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'4-
PKOUT
ffirrt planting of the Totatoe iuTrfroi-
KEHffiY E. aOE'.M, YMK- S-TISESti COYIS': CaKSJKK.
aeis'soX'.
C{)e Eeltquts
FATHEE PEOUT,
'^.^. Df ^alBrpasifliiUj in tIjB &uuIt\ nf fnrk^ IibishI
COLLECTED AND AEBANGKD BY
OLIVER YORKE, Esq.
(eet. feancis mahont.)
ILLUSTRATED BY
ALFRED CROQUIS, Esq.
(d. MACtlSE, E.A.)
NEW EDITION,
REVISED ANO LARGELY AUGMENTED.
EzoBUBE aliquis nostrls ex ossibns auctobI— .^iieuZ, iv.
LONDON:
BELL & DALDY. 6 YOEK STEEET, COVENT GARDEN,
Am) 186 FLEET STEEET.
1866.
hi
w^ . \^
o
p~' Printed by W. Clowes & Sons, Stamford Street and Charing Cross.
PEEFACE
TO THE PEESENT EDITION,
OiiTBE GrOiiDSMiTH, in his green youtli, aspired to he the
rural pastor of some village Auburn ; and in after-life gave
embodiment to his earlier fancies in a Vicar of "Wakefield.
But his Dr. Primrose had immense advantages over Dr.
Prout. The oHve branches that sprang from the vicar's
roof-tree, if they divided, certainly enhanced the interest felt
in his character ; while the lone incumbent of "Watergrasshill
was thrown on his own resources for any chance of enlisting
sympathy. The " great defender of monogamy " could buy
a wedding gown, send his boy Moses to the fair, set out
in pursuit of his lost daughter, get into debt and jail ;
exploits which the Mndly author felt he could have himself
achieved. Prout's misogamy debarred him from these
stirring social incidents : he had nothing left for ib but to
talk and write, and occasionally " intone'' a genial song.
Prom such utterances the mind and feelings of the man
have to be distilled. It requires no great palseontological
acumen to perceive that he belonged to a class of mortals,
now quite gone out of Irish existence, like the elk and
woH-dog ; and it has been a main object in this book out of
his ' relics ' to ' restore ' him for purposes of comparative
anatomy.
IV PEErACE TO THE PBESEJiTT EDITIOIT.
It will be noticed that the Father's rambles are not
limited by any barrier of caste, or coat, or c6terie ; his soul
is multilateral, his talk multifarious, yet free, it is hoped,
from garrulity, and decidedly exempt from credulity. He
seems to have had a shrewd eye for scanning Humbug, and
it is well for him (and for others) that he has vacated his
parish in due course of nature. He would have stoutly re-
sisted in Ireland the late attempted process of Italian Cul-
lenization. For though he patronized the effort of Lord
Kingston to naturalize in Munster the silkworm from that
peninsula (see his version of good Bishop Vida's Bomhices,
page 523), mere caterpillars, snails, and slimy crawlers, he
would have put his foot on.
From Florence the poet Browning has sent for this edi-
tion some liaes lately found ia the Euganeian hills, traced
on a marble slab that covered the bones of Pietro di Abano,
tield ia his old age to be an astrologer.
" Studiando le mie oifre con compasso
Eilevo ohe sard presto sottc/ terra j
Perche del mio saper si fa gran chiasso,
B gli ignoranti mi hanno moaso guerra."
Of which epitaph the poet has supplied this vernacular, ren-
dering verbatim. v
" Studying my cyphers vrith the compass,
I find I shall be soon under the daisy ;
Because of my lore folks make such a rumpus,
That every duU dog is thereat unaisy"
Browning's attempt suggests a word or two on Prout's
jwn theory of translation, as largely exemplified in this vo-
PEEFAOE TO THE PEESEKT EDITION. V
lume. The only perfect reproduction of a couplet in a dif-
ferent idiom occurred ia a.d. 1170, when the Archbishop of
York sent a salmon to the chronicler of Malmesbury, with
request for a receipt in verse, which was handed to bearer
in duplicate —
I
" Mittitur in disco mihi pisois ab archiepisco-
-Po non ponetur nisi potus. Pol ! mihi detur."
" I'm sent a i^%\)t, in a Tiasfie, Sg i\)t arcl^6t8]^=
=1§ap, is not jput i)eie. lEgatr ! ])e sent noe {leere."
Sense, rhythm, point, and even pun are here miraculously
reproduced. Prout did his best to rival him of Malmesbury,
but he held that in the clear failure of one language to elicit
from its repertory an exact equivalent, it becomes not only
proper but imperative (on the law principle of Cestui apres in
case of trusts) to fall back on an approximate word or idea
of kindred import, the interchange in vocabulary showing
at times even a balance in favour of the substitute, as hap-
pens in the ordinary course of barter on the markets of the
world. He quite abhorred the clumsy servility of adhering
to the letter while allowing the spirit to evaporate ; a mere
Verbal echo distorted by natural anfractuosities, gives back
neither the tone nor quality of the original voice ; while
the ease and curious felicity of the primitive utterance is
marred by awkwardness and effort ; spontaneity of song
being the quintessence.
Modest distrust of his own power to please deterred Prout
from obtruding much of his personal musings ; he preferred
chewing the cud of classic fancies, or otherwise approved
and substantial stuff; delighting to invest with new and
varied forms what had long gained universal recognition.
VI ■PEEFACE TO THE PEESENT EDITION.
He had strict notions as to what really constitute the Belles
lettres. Brilliancy of thought, depth of remark, pathos of
sentiment, sprightliness of wit, vigour and aptitude of style,
with some scholarship, were requisites for his notice, or
claim to be held in his esteem a literary man. It is useless
to add how much of recent growth, and how many pre-
tenders to that title, he would have eschewed.
A word as to the Etchings of D. Maclise, E.A. This great
artist in his boyhood knew Prout, and has fixed his true
features in enduring copper. The only reliable outline of
Sir "Walter Scott, as he appeared in plain clothes, and with-
out ideal halo, may be seen at page 54, where he " kisses
the Blarney Stone" on his visit to Prout in the summer of
1825. Tom Moore, equally en deshabille, can be, recognized
by all who knew him, perpetrating one of his " rogueries"
at page 150. The painter's own slim and then youthful
figure is doing homage to L.E.L. on a moonlit bank at
page 229, whUe the "garret" of B^ranger, page 299, the
" night before Larry's execution," page 267, and " Manda-
rins robing Venus in silk," page 533, are specimens of
Prench, Irish, and Chinese humanity.
But it is his great cartoon of vn-iters in Eraser, anno
1835 (^front.), that will most interest coming generations.
The banquet he has depicted was no fiction, but a frequent
fact in Eegent Street, 212. Dr. Maginn in the chair, ad-
dressing the staff contributors, has on his right, Barry
Cornwall (Procter), Eobert Southey, Percival Bankes,
Thackeray, Churchill, Serjeant Murphy, Macnish, Aina.
worth, Coleridge, Hogg, Q-alt, Dunlop, and Jerdan. Eraser
is croupier, having on his right Crofton Croker, Lockhart,
PEErACE TO THE PEESE]<rT EDITIOIT. Til
Theodore Hook, Sir David Brewster, Dr. Moir (Delta),
Tom Carlyle, Count D'Orsay (talking to AHan CuBning-
bam). Sir Egerton Brydges ; Eev. Q-. E. Gleig, chaplain of
Chelsea hospital ; Eev. P. Mahony, Eev. Edward Irving (of
the unknown tongues), a frequent writer in Eraser, and
frequenter of his sanctum, where '' oft of a stilly night " he
quaffed glenlivat with the learned Editor.
Of these twenty-seven, only eight are now living : Mr.
Procter, lunacy commissioner ; Serjeant Murphy, insolvency
ditto ; the Author of Vanity Eair ; the vigorous word-
wielder, who then was supplying Eraser with Sartor Ee-
sartus ; Ainsworth ; Grleig, the worthy and efficient chaplain-
general of Her Majesty's Eorces ; Sir David, and
EEANK MAHONT.
Paeis, Nov. 20, 1859.
PKEFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
It is much to be regretted that our Author should be no
longer in the land of the liYing, to furnish a general Pre-
amble, explanatory of the scope and tendency of his multi-
farious •writings. By us, on whom, with the contents of his
coffer, hath devolved the guardianship of his glory, such
deficiency is keenly felt ; haviug learnt from Epictetus that
every sublunary thing has two handles, (ffav itgayiLo, h\)a,i
tyii KajSag), and from experience that mankiud are prone
to take hold of the wrong one. King Ptolemy, to whom we
owe the first translation of the Bible into a then vulgar
tongue (and consequently a long array of " centenary cele-
brations"), proclaimed, ia the pithy inscription placed by
his order over the , entrance of the Alexandrian Library,
that books were a sort of physic. The analogy is just, and
pursuing it, we would remark that, like other patent medi-
dnes, they should invariably be accompanied with " directions
for use." Such wj oXeyo/tsi/a would we in the present case be
delighted ourselves to supply, but that we have profitably
Studied the fable of La Pontaine entitled "L'dne quiportait
les Reliques," (liv. v. fab. 14.)
In giving utterance to regret, we do not insinuate that
the present production of the lamented writer is un-
finished or abortive : on the contrary, our interest prompts us
to pronounce it complete, as far as it goes. Prout, as an au-
thor, will be found what he was in the flesh — " totus teres
atque rotundws." Still a suitable introduction, furnished by a
kindred genius, would in our idea be ornamental. The Pan-
theon of republican B.ome, perfect in its simplicity, yet
derived a supplementary grace from the portico superadded
by Agrippa.
Much meditating on the materials that fill " the chest,"
and daily more impressed with the merit of our author, we
thought it a pity that his wisdom should be suffered to
evaporate in magazine squibs. What impression could, ia
LIST OP ENtiRAVINGS
BY D. MACLISE, E.A.
I. THE PEASEEIAN8 (CONTEIBXTTOES IW 1835 TO ArA^J^^'^V
frasbr's maoazine) . . . Frontispiece *-^^^^
ir. riEST PLANTiNO OF THE POTATO IN IRELAND Vignette Title \^
m. AN APOLOGY TOR LENT ..... Page 9 1^
rV. PACK IMPLOEA 28 .
T. SIR WALTER SCOTT AT THE BLARNEY STONE . . 54 |/
TI. IHE'MIRACTJLOITS BRATJGHX . . . „ 95 <^
VII. A TALE OE A CHITRN ..... 129 .
Vm. PORTRAIT OE L. E. L. . . . . . 133 1^
IX. THE RO&TJBBIES OE TOM MOORE . . . . 150..
X. HENRY o'bBIBN ...... 162 \^
XI. TOTTTES PENSENT ETRE A I A FIN DD MONDE . . 198 ^
Xn. FIRST PLANTING OF THE VINE IN GAUL . . . 210 ^
Xm. MEET ME BY MOONLIGHT ALONE . , . 229 '-'
XIV. j'aI GARDE SON VEitRB 250 V
XV. THE NIGHT BEFORE LARRY WAS STRETCHED . . 1&1\/
XVI. DANS UN GRENIEB ftTj'oN ESI BIEN A VINGT AN8 . 299 "
XVII. PORTRAIT OF BEBANGEE . . . . . 313 u
XVni, THE WINE-CUP BESPOKEN ..... 329 -^
XrX. HE DIETH AND IS CHESTED .... 347 <^
XX. THE GIFT OF VENUS ...... 365 ^
XXI. THE MANDARINS ROBING VINUS IN SILZ • . 533 \/-
2 TATHEE PEOITT'S EELIQtTES.
den " recollect that in by-gone days these " deep solitudes
and awful cells " were the abode of fasting and austerity,
they will not grudge the once-hallowed premises to com-
memorate in sober stillness the Wednesdays and Fridays of
Lent. But let that rest. An infringement on the freedom
of theatricals, though in itself a grievance, will not, in all
likelihood, be the immediate cause of a convulsion in these
realms ; and it vrill probably require some more palpable
deprivation to arouse the sleeping energies of John Bull,
and to awake his dormant anger.
It was characteristic of the degeneracy of the Eomans,
that while they crouched in prostrate servility to each im-
perial monster that swayed their destinies in succession,
they never would allow their amusements to be invaded,
nor tolerate a cessation of the sports of the amphitheatre ;
so that even the despot, while he rivetted their chains,
would pause and shudder at the well-known ferocious cry
of " Panem et Circenses .'" Now, food and the drama stand
relatively to each other in very different degrees of im-
portance in England; and while provisions are plentiful,
other matters have but a minor influence on the popular
sensibilities. The time may come, when, by the bungling
measures of a "Whig administration, brought to their full
maturity of mischief by the studied neglect of the agricul-
tural and shipping interests, the general disorganisation of
the state-machinery at home, and the natural results of
their intermeddling abroad, a dearth of the primary arti-
cles of domestic consumption may bring to the English-
man's fireside the broad conviction of a misrule and mis-
management too long and too sluggishly endured. It may
then be too late to apply remedial measures with efficacy ;
and the only resource left, may be, like Caleb Balderstone
at "Wolfs Crag, to proclaim " a general fast." When that
emergency shall arise, the quaint and original, nay, some-
times luminous and philosophic, views of Father Prout on
the fast of Lent, may afford much matter for speculation to
the British public ; or, as Childe Harold says,
" Much that may give us pause, if pondered fittingly."
Before we bring forward Father Prout's lucubrations on
AN APOLOGY TOE LENT. 3
this grave subject, it may be allowable, by way of pre-
liminary observation, to remark, that, as far as Lent is
concerned, as well indeed as in all other matters, " they
manage these things differently abroad." In foreign
countries a carnival is the appropriate prelude to abstemi-
ousness ; and folks get such a surfeit of amusement during
the saturnalian days which precede its observance, that
they find a grateful repose in the sedate quietude that
ensues. The custom is a point of national taste, which 1
leave to its own merits ; but whoever has resided on the
Continent must have observed that all this bacchanalian
riot suddenly terminates on Shrove Tuesday ; the fun and
frolic expire with the " boeuf-gras ;" and the shouts of the
revellers, so boisterous and incessant during the preceding
week, on Ash Wednesday are heard no more. A singular
ceremony in all the churches — that of sprinkling over the
congregation on that Wednesday the pulverised embers of
the boughs of an evergreen (meant, I suppose, as an em-
blem and record of man's mortality) — appears to have the
instantaneous effect of turning their thoughts into a dif-
ferent channel : the busy hum subsides at once ; and learned
commentators have found, in the fourth book of Yirgil's
&eorgics, a prophetic allusion to this magic operation :
" Hi motus animorum atque hsec certamina tauta
Pulveris exigui jactu compressa qraescunt."
The non-consumption of butchers' meat, and the substi-
tution of fish diet, is also a prominent feature in the con-
tinental form of observing Lent ; and on this topic Father
Prout has been remarkably discursive, as will be seen on
perusal of the following pages. To explain how I became
the depository of the reverend man's notions, and why he
did not publish them in his lifetime (for, alas ! he is no
more — peace be to his ashes !) is a duty which I owe the
reader, and from which I am far from shrinking. I admit
that some apology is required for conveying the lucid and
clarified ideas of a great and good divine through the opaque
and profane medium that is now employed to bring them
under the public eye ; I account for it accordingly.
I am a younger son. I belong to an ancient, but poor
and dilapidated house, of which the patrimonial estate was
' B 2
4 FATHEE PEOtTT S EELIQTJES.
barely enough for my elder ; hence, aa my share resembled
what is scientifically called an evanescent quantity, I was
directed to apply to that noble refuge of unprovided genius
— the bar! To the bar, with a heavy heart and aching
head, I devoted year after year, and was about to become a
tolerable proficient in the black letter, when an epistle from
Ireland reached me in Purnival's Inn, and altered my
prospects materially. This despatch was from an old Car
tholic aimt whom I had in that country, and whose boose
I had been sent to, when a child, on the speculation that
this visit to my venerable relative, who, to her other good
qualities, added that of being a resolute spinster, might
determine her, as she was both rich and capricious, to make
me her inheritor. The letter urged my immediate presence
in the dying chamber of the Lady CressweU ; and, aa no
time was to be lost, I contrived to reach in two days the
lonely and desolate mansion on WatergrasshOl, in the vici-
nity of Cork. As I entered the apartment, by the scanty
light of the lamp that glimmered dimly, I recognised, with
some difficulty, the emaciated form of my gaunt and withered
kinswoman, over whose features, originally thin and wan,
the pallid hue of approaching death cast additional ghastH-
ness. By the bedside stood the rueful and unearthly form of
Father Prout ; and, while the sort of chiaroscuro in which hia
figure appeared, half shrouded, half revealed, served to impress
me with a proper awe for his solemn functions, the scene
itself, and the probable consequences to me of this last
interview with my aunt, affected me exceedingly. I invo-
luntarily knelt ; and while I felt my hands grasped by the
long, cold, and bony fingers of the dying, my whole frame
thrilled ; and her words, the last she spoke ia this world,
fell on my ears vsdth all the effiect of a potent witchery,
never to be forgotten ! " Prank," said the Lady Cresswell,
" my lands and perishable riches I have bequeathed to you,
though you hold not the creed of which this is a minister,
and I die a worthless but steadfast votary : only promise
me and this holy man that, in memory of one to whom
your welfare is dear, you will keep the fast of Lent while
you live ; and, as I cannot control your inward belief, be at
least in this respect a Eomafi. Catholic : I ask no more."
How could I have refused so simple an injunction P and
XS APOLO.GT rOE LENT. 5
what junior member of the bar would not hold a good rental
by so easy a tenure ? In brief, I was pledged in that solemn
hour to Father Prout, and to my kind and simple-hearted
aunt, whose grave is in Eathcooney, and whose soul is in
heaven.
During my short stay at Watergrasshill, (a wild and ro-
mantic district, of which every brake and fell, every bog
and quagmire, is well known to Croffcon Oroker — for it is
the very Arcadia of his fictions), I formed an intimacy with
this Father Andrew Prout, the pastor of the upland, and a
man celebrated in the south of Ireland. He was one of that
race of priests now unfortunately extiact, or very nearly
80, Hke the old breed of wolf-dogs, iu the island : I allude
to those of his order who were educated abroad, before the
French revolution, and had imbibed, from associating with
the polished and high-born clergy of the old GraUican church,
a loftier range of thought, and a superior delicacy of senti-
ment. Henoe, in his evidence before the House of Lords,
" the glorious Dan " has not concealed the grudge he feels
towards those clergymen, educated on the continent, who,
having witnessed the doings of the sansculottes in France,
have no fancy to a rehearsal of the same in Ireland. Of
this class was Prout, P.P. of Watergrasshill ; but his real
value was very faintly appreciated by his rude flock : he
was not understood by his contemporaries ; his thoughts
were not their thoughts, neither could he commune with
kindred souls on that wild mountain. Of his genealogy
nothing was ever known with certainty; but in this he
resembled Melchizedek : like Eugene Aram, he had excited
the most intense interest in the highest quarters, stiU did
he studiously court retirement. He was thought by some
to be deep in alchemy, like Friar Bacon ; but the gangers
never even^uspected him of distilling " potheen." He was
known to have brought from France 'a spirit of the most
chivabous gallantry ; still, like F^n^lon retired from the
court of Louis XIV., he shunned the attractions of the sex,
for the sake of his pastoral charge : but in the rigour of
his abstinence, and the frugality of his diet, he resembled
no one, and none kept Lent so strictly.
Of his gallantry one anecdote will be sufficient. The
fashionable Mrs. Pepper, with two female companions,
6 PATHEa peotit's eeliqtjes.
travellmg through the county of Cork, stopped for Divine
service at the chapel of Watergrasshill (which is on the high
road on the Dublin line), and entered its rude gate while
Prout vsras addressing his congregation. His quick eye soon
detected his fair visitants standing behind the motley crowd,
by whom they were totally unnoticed, so intent were all on
the discourse ; when, interrupting the thread of his homily,
to procure suitable accommodation for the strangers,
" Boys !" cried the old man, "why don't ye give three
chairs for the ladies ?" " Three cheers for the ladies !" re-
echoed at once the parish-clerk. It was what might be
termed a clerical, but certainly a very natural, error ; and
so acceptable a proposal was suitably responded to by the
frieze-coated multitude, whose triple shout shook the very
cobwebs on the roof of the chapel! — after which slight in-
cident, service was quietly resumed.
He was extremely fond of angling ; a recreation which,
while it ministered to his necessary relaxation from the toils
of the mission, enabled him to observe cheaply the fish diet
imperative on fast days. For this, he had established his
residence at the mountain-source of a considerable brook,
which, after winding through the parish, joins the Black-
water at Fermoy ; and on its banks would he be fotrnd,
armed with his rod, and wrapt in his strange cassock, fit to
personate the river-god or presiding genius of the stream.
His modest parlour would not iU become the hut of one
of the fishermen of Galilee. A huge net in festoons cur-
tained his casement ; a salmon-spear, sundry rods, and fish-
ing-tackle, hung round the walls and over his bookcase,
■which latter object was to him the perennial spring of
refined enjoyment. Still he would sigh for the vast libraries
of France, and her weU-appointed scientific halls, where he
had spent his youth, in converse with the first literary
characters and most learned divines ; and once he directed
my attention to what appeared to be a row of folio volumes
at the bottom of his collection, but which I found on trial
to be so many large stone-flags, with parchment backs, bear-
ing the appropriate title of Coenelii a Lapidb Opera qucR
extant omnia ; by which semblance of that old Jesuit's
commentaries he consoled himself for the absence of the
original.
AX APOLOQT FOE LENT. 7
His classic acquirements were considerable, as wiU. appear
by his essay on Lent ; and while they made him a most in-
structive companion, his unobtrusive merit left the most
favourable impression. The general character of a church-
man is singularly improved by the tributary accomplish-
ments of the scholar, and literature is like a pure grain of
Araby's incense in the golden censer of religion. His taste
for the fine arts was more genuine than might be conjectured
from the scanty specimens that adorned his apartment,
though perfectly in keeping with his favourite sport ; for
there hung over the mantlepiece a print of Eaphael's cartoon
the " Miraculous Draught ;" here, " Tobith rescued by an
Angel from the Fish ;" and there, " St. Anthony preaching
to the Pishes."
With this learned Theban I held long and serious con-
verse on the natute of the antiquated observance I had
pledged myself to keep up ; and oft have we discussed the
matter at his frugal table, aiding our conferences with a
plate of water-cresses and a red herring. I have taken
copious notes of Father Prout's leading topics ; and while I
can vouch them as his genuine arguments, I wiU not be
answerable for the style ; which may possibly be my own,
and probably, Hke the subject, exceedingly jejune.
I publish them in pure self-defence. I have been so often
called on to explain my peculiarities relative to Lent, that I
must resort to the press for a riddance of my persecutors. The
spring, which exhilarates all nature, is to me but the herald
of tribulation ; for it is accompanied in the Lent season with
a recurrence of a host of annoyances consequent on the
tenure by which I hold my aunt's property. 1 have at last
resolved to state my case openly ; and I trust that, taking
up arms against a sea of troubles, I may by exposing end
them. No blessing comes unalloyed here below : there is
ever a cankerworm in the rose ; a dactyl is sure to be mixed
up with a spondee in the poetry of life ; and, aa Homer
sings, there stand two urns, or crocks, beside the throne
of Jove, from which he doles out alternate good and bad
gifts to men, but mostly both together.
I grant, that to repine at one's share of the common allot-
ment would indicate bad taste, and afford evidence of Ul-
humour : but still a passing insight into my case will prove
8 TATHEE PEOn'S EELIQIJES.
it one of peculiar hardship. As regularly as dinner is
announced, so surely do I know that my hour is come to be
stared at as a disciple of Pythagoras, or scrutinised as a
follower of the Venetian Cornaro. I am "a lion" at "feed-
ing-time." To tempt me from my allegiance by the proffer
of a turkey's wing, to eulogise the sirloin, or dwell on the
haut goat of the haunch, are among my friends' (?) practical
sources of merriment. To reason with them at such unpro-
pitious moments, and against such fearful odds, would be a
hopeless experiment ; and I have learned from Horace and
from Father Prout, that there are certain mollia tempora,
fandi, which should always be attended to : in such cases I
chew the cud of my resentment, and eke out my repast on
salt-fish in silence. None wiU be disposed to question my
claim to the merit of fortitude. In vain have I been sum-
moned by the prettiest lisp to partake of the most tempting
delicacies. I have declined each lady-hostess's hospitable
offer, as if, to speak in classic parlance, Canidia tractavit
dapes; or, to use the vernacular phraseology of Moore, as if
" The trail of the serpent was over them all."
Hence, at the club I am looked on as a sort of rara avis ;
or, to speak more appropriately, as an odd fish. Some have
spread a report that I have a large share in the Hungerford
Market ; others, that I am a Saint Simonian. A feUow of
the Zoological Society has ascertained, forsooth, from certain
maxUlary appearances, that I am decidedly of the class of
lyQm^a/yai, with a mixture of the herbivorous. "When the
tenth is known, as it vrill be on the publication of this
paper, it will be seen that I am no phenomenon whatever.
My witty cousin, Harriet E., will no longer consider me
a fit subject for the exercise of her ingenuity, nor present
me a copy of G-ray's poems, with the page turned down at
"An Elegy on a Cat drowned in a tub of G-old Pishes." She
will perhaps, when asked to sing, select some other aria
besides that eternal barcarolle,
" O peaoator deU' onda,
Vieni pescar in qxnk
CoUa Sella tua baroa !"
and if I happen to approach the loo-table, she will not think
An apology for Lent
XN APOLO&T rOE LENT. 9
it again necessary to caution the old dowagers to take care
of their _^sA.
Bevenons d. nos poissons. When last I supped with Father
Prout, on the eve of my departure from "WatergrasshiU. (and
I can only compare my reminiscences of that classic banquet
to Xenophon's account of the symposion of Plato), " Young
man," said he, " you had a good aunt in the Lady CressweU ;
and if you thought as we do, that the orisons of kindred and
friends can benefit the dead, you should pray for her as long
as you live. But. you belqngto a different creed — different,
I mean, as to this particular point; for, as a whole, your
church of England bears a ■ close resemblance, to ours of
Eome. The daughter wiU.eTer inherit the leading features
of the mother ; and though in your eyes the: fresh and un-
withered fascinations, of ■ the I new faith may fling into the
shade the more matronly graces of the old, somewhat on the
principle of Horace, O matre pulchrd filia pulchrior ! stiU
has our ancient .worship many and potent charms. .-I could
proudly dwell ■ on the historic recoUeetions that emblazon
her escutcheon, the pomp and pageantry of her gorgeous
liturgy — -r-"
Pardon, -me, reverend friend, I interposed, lest he should
diverge, as was his habit, into some.long-wiiided argument,
forei|;n'to.the topic -on which I sought to beiinforpied,— I
do n©t tjndervaluetthe matronly graces of your veiperable
church ; but? (pointing to the remnant of whia,t:.had been a
red herring) , letiua ;talk of her fish-diet and fast days.
" 4sy, you are right there, chUd," resumed Prout ; " I per-
ceive wh^re my panegyric must end — <
- , •,Desi;ii|^mj)i«ce>» mulier formosa superue!' , ., . ;
Tou will. get af^jnoiia badgerin^^in,,town when^^ybu are
found out to have forsworn the flesh-pots ; and Lent, will be
a sad season for ybii among the, Egyptians. But you need
not be unprovided with plausible reasons for your abstiaence,
besides the sterling considerations of' the rental. Notwith-
standing that it has been said or sung by your Lord Byron,
that
' Man is a carnivorous production,
And cannot live (as woodcocks do) on suction ;'
10 TATHEB PEOUT's EELIQTIBS.
still that noble poet (I speak from the record of his life and
^ habits furnished us by Moore) habitually eschewed animal
' food, detested gross feeders, afld in his own case lived most
frugally, I might even say ascetically ; and this abstemious-
ness he practised from a refinement of choice, for he had
registered no vow to heaven, or to a maiden aunt. The
observance will no doubt prove a trial of fortitude ; but for
your part at the festive board, were you so criminal as to
transgress, would not the spectre of the Lady Cresswell,
like the ghost of Banquo, rise to rebuke you ?
"And besides, these days of fasting are of the most remote
antiquity ; they are referred to as being in vogue at the first
general council that legislated for Christendom at Nice, ia
Bithynia, A.n. 325 : and the subsequent assembly of bishops
at Laodicea ratified the institution a.d. 364. Its discipline
is fully developed in the classic pages of the accomplished
Tertullian, in the second century (Tract, de jejuniis). I say
no more. These are what Edmund Burke would call ' grave
and reverend authorities,' and, in the silence of Holy Writ,
may go as historic evidence of primitive Christianity ; but
if you press me, I can no more show cause under the proper
hand and seal of an apostle for keeping the fast on these
days, than I can for keeping the Sabbath on Sunday.
" I do not choose to notice that sort of criticism, in its
dotage, that would trace the custom to the well-known
avocation of the early disciples: though that they were
fishermen is most true, and that even after they had been
raised to the apostolic dignity, they relapsed occasionally
into the innocent pursuit of their primeval calling, still
haunted the Shores of the accustomed lake, and loved
to disturb with their nets the crystal surface of Genne-
sareth.
" Lent is an institution which should have been long since
rescued from the cobwebs of theology, and restored to the
domain of the political economist, for there is no prospect
of arguing the matter in a fair spirit among conflicting
divines ; and, of all things, polemics are the most stale and
unprofitable. Loaves and fishes have, in aU ages of the
church, had charms for us of the cloth ; yet how few would
confine their frugal bill of fare to mere loaves and fishes !
So far Lent may be considered a stumbling-block. But
AN APOLOGY I'Oa LEITT. 11
here I dismiss theology: nor shall I further trespass on
your patience by angling for arguments in the muddy stream
of church history, as it roUs its troubled waters over the
middle ages.
" Tour black-letter acquirements, I doubt not, are con-
siderable ; but have you adverted to a clause in Queen
Elizabeth's enactment for the improvement of the shipping
interests in the year 1564 ? Tou will, I believe, find it to
run thus :
" Anno 5o Elis. cap. v. sect. 11 : — ' And for encrease of
provision of fishe by the more usual eatiag thereof, bee it
further enacted, that from the feast of St. Mighell th'arch-
angell, ano. Dni. fiftene hundreth threescore foure, every
"Wednesdaye in every weeke through the whole yere shal
be hereafter observed and kepte as the Saturdays in every
weeke be or ought to be ; and that no person shal eat any
fleshe no more than on the common Saturdays.
Sect. 12. — ' And bee it further enacted by th'auctoritee
aforesaid, for the commoditie and benifit of this realme, as
well to growe the navie as in sparing and encrease of fleshe
victual, that from and after the feast of Pentecost next
coming, yt shaU not be lawful for any p'son to eat any fleshe
upon any days now usually observed as fish- days ; and that
any p'son offending herein shal forfeite three powndes for
every tyme.'
" I do not attach so much importance to the act of her
royal successor, James I., who in 1619 issued a proclama.
tion, reminding his English subjects of the obligation of
keeping Lent ; because his Majesty's object is clearly ascer-
tained to have been to encourage the traffic of his country-
men the Scotch, who had just then embarked largely in the
herring trade, and for whom the thrifty Stuart was anxious
to secure a monopoly in the British markets.
" But wheUj in 1627, 1 find the chivalrous Charles I., your
martyred king, sending forth from the banqueting-room of
"Whitehall his royal decree to the same effect, I am at a loss
to trace his motives. It is known that Archbishop Laud's
advice went to the effect of reinstating many customs of
Catholicity ; but, from a more diligent consideration of the
subject, I am more inclined to think that the king wished
rather, by this display of austere practices, to soothe and
12 TATHEB PBOTTT'S EELIQTTES.
conciliate the Puritanical portion of his subjects, whose
religious notions were supposed (I know not how justly) to
have a tendency to self-denial and the mortification of the
flesh. Certaia it is, that the Calvinists and Eoundheads
were greater favourites at Billingsgate than the high-church
party ; from which we may conclude that they consumed
more fish. A fact corroborated by the contemporary testi-
mony of Samuel Butler, who says that, when the great
struggle commenced,
•Each fisherwoman locked her fish up.
And trudged abroad to cry, No Bishop !'
" I wiU only remark, in furtherance of my own views, that
the king's beef-eaters, and the gormandising Cavaliers of
that period, could never stand in fair fight agaiust the aus-
tere and fasting Cromwellians.
"It is a vulgar error of your countrymen to connect
valour with roast beef, or courage with plum-pudding.
There exists no such association ; and I wonder this national
mistake has not been duly noticed by Jeremy Bentham ia
his ' Book of Fallacies.' As soon might it be presumed that
the pot-beUied Falstaff, faring on venison and sack, could
overcome in prowess Owen Griendower, who, I suppose, fed
on leeks ; or that the lean and emaciated Cassius was not a
better soldier than a well-known sleek and greasy rogue
who fled from the battle of Philippi, and, as he himself
unblushingly tells the world, left his buckler behind him :
' Relictd non bene parmuld.'
" I cannot contain my bile when I witness the mode in
which the lower orders in your country abuse the French,
for whom they have found nothing in their Anglo-Saxon
vocabulary so expressive of contempt as the term 'frog-
eater.' A Frenchman is not supposed to be of the same
flesh and blood as themselves; but, like the water-snake
described in the Georgics—
' Fiacibus atram,
Improbus ingluviem ranisque loquacibua implet.'
Hence it is carefully instilled into the infant mind (when
the young idea is taught how to shoot), that you won the
victories of Poitiers and Agincourt mainly by the superio-
rity of your diet. In hewing down the ranks of the foeman.
AX APOLO&T FOE LENT. 13
much of the English army's success is of course attributed
to the dexterous management of their cross-bills, but con-
siderably more to their bill of fare. If I could reason with
such simpletons, I would refer them to the records of the
commissariat department of that day, and open to their
vulgar gaze the folio vii. of Eymer's Foedera, where, in. the
twelfth year of Edward III., a.d. 1338, at page 1021, they
would find, that previous to the victory of Cressy there were
shipped at Portsmouth, for the use of these gallant troops,
fifty tons of Yarmouth herrings. Such were the supplies
(rather unusual now in the contracts at Somerset House)
which enabled Edward and his valiant son to drive the hosts
of France before them, and roll on the tide of war till the
towers of Paris yielded to the mighty torrent. After a
hasty repast on such simple diet, might the Black Prince
appropriately address his girded knights in Shakespearian
phrase,
' Thus far into the bowels of the knd
Have we marched on without impediment.'
" The enemy sorely grudged them their supplies. Eor it
appears by the chronicles of Enguerrand de Monstrellet,
the continuator of Eroissart, that in 1429, while the English
were besieging Orleans, the Duke of Bedford sent from his
head- quarters, Paris, on the Ash "Wednesday of that year,
five hundred carts laden with herrings, for the use of the
camp during Iient, when a party of French noblemen, viz.
XaintraUle, Lahire, De la Tour de Chavigny, and the Che-
valier de Lafayette (ancestor of the revolutionary veteran),
made a desperate effort to intercept the convoy. But the
English detachment, imder whose safeguard was this pre-
cious deposit, fought pro aris et focis in its defence, and the
assailants were routed with the loss of six score knights and
much plebeian slaughter. Head Eapin's account of the
affi-ay, which was thence called ' lajownie des harengs.'
" W hat schoolboy is ignorant of the fact, that at the eve
of the battle of Hastings, which gave to your Norman an-
cestors the conquest of the island, the conduct of the Anglo-
Britons was strongly contrasted with that of the invaders
from France ; for while in Harold's camp the besotted na-
tives spent the night in revelling and gluttony, the -Norman
14 FATHEE PEOTTT's EEXIQTJES.
chivalry gave their time to fasting and devotion. — (Gold-
smith, A.D. 1066.)
" It has not escaped the penetrating mind of the sagacious
Buffon, in his views of man and man's propensities (which,
after all, are the proper study of mankind), that a predilec-
tion for light food and spare diet has always been the
characteristic of the Celtic and Eastern races; while the
Teutonic, the Sclavonian, and Tartar branches of the human
family betray an aboriginal craving for heavy meat, and are
gross feeders. In many countries of Europe there has been
a slight amalgamation of blood, and the international pedi-
gree in parts of the Continent has become perplexed and
doubtful : but the most obtuse observer can see that the
phlegmatic habits of the Prassians and Dutch argue a dif-
ferent genealogical origin from that which produced the
lively disposition of the tribes of southern Europe. The
best specimens extant of the genuine Celt are the Greeks,
the Arabians, and the Irish, all of whom are temperate in
their food. Among European denominations, in proportion
as the Celtic infusion predominates, so in a corresponding
ratio is the national character for abstemiousness. Nor
would I thus dwell on an otherwise uninteresting specula-
tion, were I not about to draw a corollary, and shew how
these secret influences became apparent at what is called
the great epoch of the Eeformation. The latent tendency
to escape from fasting observances became then revealed,
and what had lain dormant for ages was at once developed.
The Tartar and Sclavonic breed of men flung off the yoke
of Eome ; while the Celtic races remained faithful to the
successor of the ' Eisherman,' and kept Lent.
" The Hollanders, the Swedes, the Saxons, the Prussians,
and in Germany those circles in which the Gothic blood
ran heaviest and most stagnant, hailed Luther as a deliverer
from salt fish. The fatted calf was killed, bumpers of
ale went round, and Popery went to the dogs. Half Europe
followed the impetus given to free opinions, and the con-
genial impulse of the gastric juice; joining in reform,
not because they loved Eome less, but because they loved
substantial fare more. Meantime neighbours differed. The
Dutch, duU and opaque as their ownZuidersee, growled de-
fiance at tlie Vatican when their food was to be controlled ;
XS APOLOGY FOE LENT. 15
the Belgians, being a stade nearer to the Celtic family,
submitted to the fast. "While Hamburg clung to its beef,
and Westphalia preserved her hams, Munich and Bavaria
adhered to the Pope and to sour-crout with desperate
fidelity. As to the Cossacks, and- all that set of northern
marauders, they never kept Lent at any time ; and it would
be arrant folly to expect that the horsemen of the river
Don, and the Esquimaux of the polar latitudes, would think
of restricting their ravenous propensities in a Christian
fashion ; the ^ very system of cookery adopted by these
terrible hordes would, I fear, have given Dr. Kitchiner a fit
of cholera. The apparatiis is graphically described by
Samuel Butler : I wHl iadulge you with part of the quo-
tation :
' For like their countrymen the Huns,
They 6tew their meat under +
# ' * * m
All day on horses' backs they straddle,
Then every man eats up his saddle !'
A strange process, no doubt : but not without some sort of
precedent in classic records ; for the Latin poet iatroduces
young lulus at a picnic, in the JEneid, exclaiming —
' Heus ! etiam mensas consumimus.'
" In England, as the inhabitants are of a mixed descent,
and as there has ever been a disrelish for any alteration in the
habits and fireside traditions of the country, the fish- days
were remembered long after every Popish observance had
become obsolete ; and it was not until 1668 that butchers'
meat finally established its ascendency in Lent, at the
arrival of the Dutchman. We have seen the exertions of
the Tudor dynasty under Elizabeth, and of the house of
Stuart under James I. and Charles I., to keep up these
fasts, which had flourished in the days of the Plantagenets,
which the Heptarchy had revered, which Alfred and Canute
had scrupulously observed, and which had come down posi-
tively recommended by the Venerable Bede. WiUiam III.
gave a death-blow to Lent. Until then it had lingered
among the threadbare curates of the country, extrema per
+ Hudibras, Canto ii. 1. 2V5.
16 TATHEE PBOUT'S EELIQrES.
illos excedens terris vestigia fecit, having been long before
exiled from the gastronomic haU of both UniversitieB. But
its extinction was complete. Its ghost might still remain,
flitting through the land, without corporeal or ostensible
form ; and it vanished totally with the fated star of the
Pretender. It was William who conferred the honour of
knighthood on the loin of beef; and such was the progress
of disaffection under Queen Anne, that the folks, to mani-
fest their disregard for the Pope, agreed that a certain ex-
tremity of the goose should be denominated his nose !
"The indomitable spirit of the Celtic Irish preserved
Lent in this country unimpaired; an event of such import-
ance to England, that I shall dwell on it by and by more
fully. The Spaniards and Portuguese, although Gothic and
Saracen blood has commiagled ia the pure current of their
Phoenician pedigree, clung to Lent with characteristic
tenacity. The GaUic race, even in the days of Caesar, were
remarkably temperate, and are so to the present day. The
French very justly abhor the gross, carcase-eating propen-
sities of John Bull. But as to the keeping of Lent, ia an
ecclesiastical poiat of view, I cannot take on myself to
vouch, since the ruffianly revolution, for their orthodoxy iu
that or any other religious matters. They are sadly deficient
therein, though still delicate and refined in their cookery,
like one of their own artistes, whose epitaph is in P^re la
Chaise —
' Ci git qui d&s l'4ge le plus tendre
Inventa la sauce Robert ;
Mais jamais il ne put apprendre
Ni son credo ni son pater.'
" It was not so of old, when the pious monarchs of France
dined publicly in Passion week on fasting fare, in order to
recommend by their example the use of fish — when the
heir-apparent to the crown delighted to be called a dolphin
— and when one of your own kings, being on a visit to
France, got so fond of their lamprey patties, that he died of
indigestion on his return.
" Antiquity has left us no document to prove that the
early Spartans kept certain days of abstinence ; but their
black broth, of which the ingredients have puzzled the
AN APOIOGT FOE LEWT. 17
learned, must have been a fitting substitute for the soupe
maigre of our Lent, since it required a hard run on the
banks of the Eurotas to make it somewhat palatable. At
aU events, their great lawgiver vf as an eminent ascetic, and
applied himself much to restrict the diet- of his hardy coun-
trymen ; and if it is certain that there existed a mystic
bond of union among the 300 Lacedemonians who stood in
the gap of Thermopylse, it assuredly was not a beef-steak
club of which Leonidas was president.
" The Athenians were too ^ cultivated a people not to
appreciate the value of periodical days of self-denial and
abstemiousness. Accordingly, on the eve of certain fes-
tivals, they fed exclusively on figs ahd the honey of Mount
Hymettus. Plutarch expressly tells us that a solemn fast
preceded the celebration of the Thermophoria ; thence
termed vrigriia. In looking over the works of the great
geographer Strabo (Hb. xiv.), I find sufficient evidence of
the respect paid io fish by the inhabitants of a distinguished
Greek city, in which that erudite author says the arrival of
the fishing-smacks in the harbour was announced joyfully
by sounding the "tocsin;" and that the musicians in the
public piazza were left abruptly by the crowd, whenever the
bell tolled for the sale of the herrings : x/ha^taiov ividimmf/^ii/ou
Ticiig ,u>sv axgoccc^cii vccvrag- ug ds o xudoiv o Kara, rriv o-vj/offnoX/av
e-^o(pri(Se xaraXi'jrovTig a'lrsXkiv im to o-vJ/ov. A custom to which
Plutarch also refers in hfs Symposium of Plato, lib. iv. cap.
4. 5-ous 'ffe^i i^Suo'ffcaXiav avaSidovTas xoti tou suadoivog o^jws
, " That practices similar to our Lent existed among the
Eomans, may be gathered from various sources. In Ovid's
Fasti (notwithstanding the title) I find nothing ; but from
the reUques of old sacerdotal memorials collected by
Stephano Morcelli, it appears that Numa fitted himself by
fasting for an interview with the mysterious inmate of
Egeria's grotto. Livy tells us that the decemvirs, on
the occurrence of certain prodigies, were instructed by a
vote of the senate to consult the Sibylline books ; and
the result was the establishment of a fast in honour of
Ceres, to be observed perpetually every five years. It is
hard to teU. whether Horace is in joke or in earnest
1 See Translation in Bohn's Strato, Vol. iii. p. 37.
C
1§ FATHEB PEOn'S BELIQUES.
when he introduces a vow relative to these days of
penance —
' Prigida si puerum quartana reliquerit illo
MaD& die quo tu indicia jejunia nudus
In T^beri stabit !' Serm. lib. ii. sat. 3. v. 290.
But we are left in the dark as to whether they observed their
fasts by restricting themselves to lentils and vegetable diet,
or whether fish was allowed. On this interesting point
we find nothiag in the laws of the twelve tables. However,'
a marked predilection for herbs, ' and such frugal fare, was
distinctive of the old Eomans, as the very names of the
principal families sufficiently indicate. The Pabii, for in-
stance, were so called from faba, a bean, on which simple
aliment that inde&tigable race of heroes subsisted for many
generations. The noble line of the LentuU derive their
patronymic from a favourite kind of lentil, to which they
were partial, and from which Lent itself is so called. The
aristocratic Pisoes were similarly circumstanced ; for their
family appellation will be found to signify a kind of vetches.
Scipio was titled from cepe, an onion ;' and we may trace
the surname and hereditary honours of the great Eoman
orator to the same horticultural source, for cicer in Latin
means a sort of pea ; and so on through the whole nomen-
clature,
" Hence the Eoman satirist, ever alive to the follies of his
age, can find nothing more ludicrous than the notion of the
Egyptians, who entertained a religious repugnance to vege-.
table fare :
' Porriim et cepe nefas violare et frangere moreu,
^O sanotas gentes !' Jtjv. Sat. 15.
And as' to fish, the fondness of the people of his day for such
food can be demonstrated from his fourth satire, where he
dwells triumphantly on the capture of a splendid tunny in
the waters of the Adriatic, arid describes the assembling of
a cabinet council in the " Downing Street '' of Eome to
determine how it should be properly cooked. It must be
admitted that, since the Whigs came to offi.ce, although they
' Here Prout 18 in error. Scipio means a " walking-etick," and com-
loeinorates the filial piety of one of the gens Cornelia, who went about
eonetantly supporting his tottering aged fether. — O. Y.
AN APOLOGY TOE LENT. 19
have had many a pretty kettle of fish to deliberate upon, they
have shown nothing half so dignified or rational in their
decisions as the imperial privy council of Domitian.
" The magnificence displayed by the masters of the world
in getting up fish-ponds is a fact which every schoolboy has
learnt, as well as that occasionally the murcence were treated to
the luxury of a slave or two, flung in alive for their nutri-
ment. The celebrity which the maritime villas of Baise ob-
tained for that fashionable watering-place, is a further argu-
ment in point ; and we know that when the reprobate Verres
was driven into exile by. the brilliant declamation of Cicero,
he consoled himself at Marseilles over a local dish oiAnguilles
d la Marseillaise.
" Simplicity and good taste in diet gradually declining in
the Eoman empire, the gigantic frame of the colossus itself
soon hastened to decay. It burst of its own plethory. The
example of the degenerate court had pervaded the provinces ;
and soon the whole body politic reeled, as after a surfeit of
debauchery. Yitellius had gorfnandised with vulgar glut-
tony ; the Emperor Maximinus was a living sepulchre, where
whole hecatombs of butchers' meat were daily entombed ;'
and no modern keeper of a table d'Adte could stand a suc-
cession of such guests as Heliogabalus. Gribbon, whose
penetrating eye nothing has escaped in the causes of the
Decline and Fall, notices this vile propensity to overfeeding ;
and shows that, to reconstruct the mighty system of
dominion established by the rugged republicans (the Tabii,
the Lentuli, and the Pisoes), nothing but a bond fide return
to simple fare and homely pottage could be efiectual. The
hint was duly acted on. The Popes, frugal and abstemious,
ascended the vacant throne of the Cassars, and ordered Lent
to be observed throughout the eastern and western world.
" The theory of fasting, and its practical application, did
wonders in that emergency. It renovated the rotten con-
stitution of Europe — it tamed the hungry hordes of despe-
rate savages that rushed down with a war-whoop on the
prostrate ruins of the empire — it taught them self-control,
and gave them a masterdom over their barbarous propensi-
ties ; — it did more, it originated civilisation and commerce.
' It 18 said that in a single day he could devour forty pounds oimeat
and drink an amphora of wine.
c2
20 lATHEE PEOUT'S EELIQTTES.
" A few straggling fishermen built huts on the flats of the
Adriatic, for the convenience of resorting thither in Lent,
to procure their annual supply of fish. The demand for that
article becalme so brisk and so extensive through the vast
dominions of the Lombards ia northern Italy, that from a
temporary establishment it became a permanent colony in
the lagunes. Working like the coral insect under the seas,
with the same unconsciousness of the mighty result of their
labours, these industrious men for a century kept on en-
larging their nest upon the waters, till their enterprize be-
came fuUy developed, and
' Venice sat in state, throned on a himdred isles.'
" The fasting necessities of France and Spain were minis-
tered to by the rising republic of Genoa, whose origin I
delight to trace from a small fishing town to a mighty em-
porium of commerce, fit cradle to rock (in the infant Co-
lumbus) the destinies of a new world. Pew of us have
turned our attention to the fact, that our favourite fish, the
John Dory, derives its name from the Genoese admiral,
Doria, whose seamanship best thrived on meagre diet. Of
Anne Chovy, who has given her name to another fish found
in the Sardinian waters, no record remains ; but she was
doubtless a heroine. Indeed, to revert to the humble her-
ring before you, its etymology shews it to be well adapted
for warlike stomachs, heer (its German root) signifying an
army. In England, is not a soldier synonymous with a
lobster ?
" In the progress of maritime industry along the shores of
southern, and subsequently of northern Europe, we find a
love for freedom to grow up with a fondness for fish. Enter-
prise and liberty flourished among the islands of the Archi-
pelago. And when Naples was to be rescued from thraldom,
it was the hardy race of watermen who plied in her beau-
teous bay, that rose at Ereedom's call to effect her deliverance,
when she basked for one short hour in its full sunshine under
the gallant Masaniello.
" As to the commercial grandeur, of which a constant
demand for fish was the creating principle, to illustrate its
importance, I need only refer to a remarkable expression of
AN APOLOGT rOB. LENT. 21
that deep politician, and ezceedinglj clever economist,
Charles V., when, on a progress through a part of his do-
minions, on which the sun at that period never went down,
he happened to pass through Amsterdam, in company with
the Queen of Hungary : on that occasion, being compli-
mented in the usual form by the burgomasters of his faith-
ful city, he asked to see the mausoleum of John Bachalen,
the famous herring-barreler ; but when told that his grave,
simple and unadorned, lay in his native island in the Zuyder-
see, ' What !' cried the illustrious visitor, ' is it thus that my
people of the Netherlands shew their gratitude to so great
a man ? Know ye not that the foundations of Amsterdam
are laid on herring-bones ?' Their majesties went on a pil-
grimage to his tomb, as is related by Sir Hugh "WUloughby
in his ' Historie of Kshes.'
" It would be of immense advantage to these countries
were we to return unanimously to the ancient practice, and
restore to the full extent of their wise policy the laws of
Elizabeth. The revival of Lent is the sole remedy for the
national complaints on the decline of the shipping interest,
the sole way to meet the outcry about corn-laws. Instead
of Mr. Attwood's project for a change of currency, Mr.
Wilmot Horton's panacea of emigration, and Miss Marti-
neau's preventive check, re-enact Lent. But mark, I do
not go so far as to say that by this means all and every-
thing desirable can be accomplished, nor do I undertake by
it to pay /)ff the national debt — though the Lords of the
Treasury might learn that, when the disciple's were at a loss
to meet the demand of tax-collectors in their day, they
caught a fish, and found in its gills sufficient to satisfy the
revenue. (-S^. Matthew, chap, xvii.)
" Of all the varied resources of this great, empire, the
most important, in a national point of view, has long been .
the portion of capital afloat in the merchantmen, and
the strength invested in the navy of Grreat Britain. True,
the British thunder has too long slept under a sailor-king,
and under so many galling national insults ; and it were
full time to say that it shall no longer sleep on in the
grave where Sir James Grraham has laid it. But my con-
cern is principally for the alarming depression of our mer-
chants' property in vessels, repeatedly proved in evidence
22 FATHEE PEOITt'S EEIIQJTES.
before your House of Commons. Poulett Thomson is right
to call attention to the cries of the shipowners, and to that
dismal howling from the harbours, described by the prophet
as the forerunner of the fall of Babylon.
" The best remedial measure would be a resumption of
fish-diet during a portion of the year. Talk not of a resump-
tion of cash payments, of opening the trade to China, or of
finding a north-west passage to national prosperity. Talk
not of ' calling spirits from the vasty deep,' when you neg-
lect to elicit food and employment for thousands from its
exuberant bosom. Visionary projectors are never without
some complex system of beneficial improvement ; but I
would say of them, in the words of an Irish gentleman who
has lately travelled in search of religion,
' They may talk of the nectar that sparkled for Helen —
Theirs is a fiction, but this is reality.'
Melodies.
Demand would create supply, flotillas would issue from
every sea-port in the spring, and ransack the treasures of
the ocean for the periodical market : and the wooden walls
of Old England, instead of crumbling into so much rotten
timber, would be converted into so many huge wooden
spoons to feed the population.
" It has been sweetly sung, as well as wisely said, by a
genuine English writer, that
' Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark, unfathom'd caves of ocean bear!'
To these undiscovered riches Lent would point the national
eye, and direct the national energies. Very absurd would
then appear the forebodings of the croakers, who with some
plausibility now predict the approach of national bankruptcy
and famine. Time enough to think of that remote contin-
gency when the sea shall be eihausted of its live bullion,
and the abyss shall cry ' Hold, enough !' Time enough to
fear a general stoppage, when the run on the Dogger Bank
ahaU have produced a failure — when the shoals of the teem-
ing north shall have refused to meet their engagements in
the sunny waters of the south, and the drafts of the net
shall have been dishonoured.
" I admire Edmund Burke ; who in his speech on Ameri-
AN APOLOGX rOE LENT. 23
can conciliation, has an argumentum piscatorium quite to my
fancy. Tolle ! lege !
" ' As to the wealth which these colonies have derived
from the sea by their fisheries, you had all that matter fully
opened at your bar. Tou surely thought these acquisitions
of value ; for they even seemed to excite your . envy. And
j'et the spirit with which that enterprising employment has
been exercised ought rather, in my opinion, to have raised
your esteem and admiration. And pray, sir, what in the
world is equal to it ? Look at the manner in which the
people of New England have carried on their fishery.
While we follow them among the tumbling mountains of
ice, penetrating into the deepest recesses of Hudson's
Bay; while we are looking for them beneath the arctic
circle, we hear that they have pierced into the opposite
region of polar cold, — that they are at the antipodes, and
engaged under the frozen serpent of the south. Falkland
Island, which seemed too remote and romantic an object for
the grasp of national ambition, is but a st^ge and resting
place in the progress of their victorious industry. Nor is
the equinoctial heat more discouraging to them, than the
accumulated winter of both the poles. We know, that
while some of them draw the line and strike the harpoon
on the coast of Africa, others run the longitude, and pursue
their gigantic game along the shores of Brazil : no sea that
is not vexed by their fisheries, no climate that is not witness
to their toils !'
" Snch glorious imaginings and beatific dreams would (I
speak advisedly) be realised in these countries by Lent's
magic spfeU ; and I have no .doubt that our patriot King,
the patron of so many very questionable reforms, will see
the propriety of restoring the laws of Elizabeth in this mat-
ter. Stanislaus, the late pious king of Lorraine, so endeared
himself to his subjects in general, and market-gardeners in
particular, by his sumptuary regulations respecting vege-
table diet in Lent, that in the hortus siccus of Nancy his
statue has been placed, with an appropriate inscription : —
' Vitales inter sucoos herbasque salubres,
Qu^ bene stat populi vita salusque sui !'
" A similar compliment would await his present Majesty
24 rATHEE PEorT'S EELIQTJES.
William IV. from the shipowners and the ' worshipfiJ.
fishmongers' Company,' if he should adopt the suggestion
thrown out here. He would figure colossaUy in Trafalgar
Square, pointing with his trident to Hungerford Market.
The three-pronged instrument in his hand would be a most
appropriate emblem (much more so than on the pinnacle of
Buckingham Palace), since it would signify equally well the
fork with which he fed his people, and the sceptre with
which he ruled the world.
' Le trident de Neptune est le sceptre du monde !'
" Then would be solved the grand problem of the Corn-law ,
question. Hitherto my Lord Fitzwilliam has taken nothing
by his motions. But were Lent proclaimed at Charing
Cross and Temple Bar, and through the market towns of
England, a speedy fall in the price of grazing stock, though
it might affict Lord Althorp, would eventually harmonise
the jarring interests of agriculture and manufacturing in-
dustry. The superabundant population of the farming dis-
tricts would crowd to the coast, and find employment in the
fisheries; while Devonshire House would repudiate for a
time the huge sirloin, and receiving as a substitute the pon-
derous turbot, Spitalfields would exhibit on her frugal board
salt ling flanked with potatoes. A salutary taste for fish
would be created in the inmost recesses of the island, an
epoch most beneficial to the country would take date from
that enactment.
' Omne quum Proteua peous e^t altoa
Viaere montes.'
STor need the landlords take alarm. People would not
plough the ground less because they might plough the deep
more ; and while smiling Ceres would still walk through
our isle with her horn of plenty, Thetis would follow in her
train with a rival cornucopia.
" Mark the effects of this observance in Ireland, where
it continues in its primitive austerity, undiminished, im-
shom of its beams. The Irish may be wrong, but the eon-
sequences to Protestant England are immense. To Lent
you owe the connexion of the two islands ; it is the golden
link that binds the two kingdoms together. Abolish fasting,
AN ATOLOaT FOE liENT. 25
and from that evil hour no beef or pork would he suffered
by the wild natives to go over to your English markets ; and
the export of provisions would be discontinued by a people,
that had ujilearned the lessons of starvation. Adieu to
shipments of live stock and consignments of bacon ! Were
there not some potent mysterious spell over this country,
think you we should allow the fat of the land to be ever-
lastingly abstracted ? Let us learn that there is no virtue
in Lent, and repeal is triumphant to-morrow. We are in
truth a most abstemious race. Hence our great superiority
over our Protestant fellow-countrymen in the jury-box. It
having been found that they could never hold out agaiast
hunger as we can, when locked up, and that the verdict was
generally carried by popish obstinacy, former administra-
tions discountenanced our admission to serve on juries at
all. By an oversight of Sergeant Lefroy, all this has escaped
the framers of the new jury bill for Ireland.
" To return to the Irish exports. The principal item is
that of pigs. The hog is as essential an inmate of the Irish
cabia as the Arab steed of the shepherd's tent on the plains
of Mesopotamia. Both are looked on as part of the house-
hold ; and the affectionate manner in ■which these dumb
friends of the family are treated, here as weU as there, is a
trait of national resemblance, denoting a common origin.
We are quite oriental in most of our peculiarities. The
learned VaUancey wiU have it, that our consanguinity is
with the Je^ws. I might elucidate the colonel's discovery,
by shewing how the pig iu Ireland plays the part of the
scape-goat of the Israelites : he is a sacred thing, gets the
run of the kitchen, is rarely molested, never killed, but alive
and buoyant leaves the cabin when taken off by the land-
lord's driver for arrears of rent, and is then shipped clean
out of the country, to be heard of no more. Indeed, the
pigs of Ireland bear this notable resemblance to their cou-
sins of Judea, that nothing can keep them from the sea, — •
a tendency which strikes aU travellers in the interior of the
island whenever they meet our droves of swine precipitating
themselves towards the outports for shipment.
" To ordinary observers this forbearance of the most iU-fed
people on the face of the globe towards their pigs would
appear inexplicable; and tf you have read the legend of
26 FATHEE PEOrT's EELIQrES.
Saint Anthony and his pig, you will understand the value of
their resistance to temptation.
" They have a great resource in the potato. This capital
esculent grows nowhere in such perfection, not even in
America, where it is indigenous. But it has often struck
me that a great national delinquency has occurred in the
sad neglect of people iu this country towards the memory of
the great and good man who conferred on us So valuable a
boon, on his return from the expedition to "Virginia. To
Sir Walter Ealeigh no monument has yet been erected, and
nothing has been done to repair the injustice of his contem-
poraries. His head has rolled from the scaffold on Tower
Hill ; and though he has fed with his discovery more fami-
lies, and given a greater impulse to population, than any
other benefactor of mankind, no testimonial exists to com-
memorate his benefaction. Nelson has a pillar iu DubHn :—
in the city of Limerick a whole column has been devoted to
Spring Eice ! ! and the mighty genius of Raleigh is forgotten.
I have seen some animals feed under the majestic oak on
the acorns that fell from its spreading branches {glande
sues lati), without once looking up to the parent tree that
showered down blessings on their ungrateful heads."
Here endeth the "Apology," and so abruptly terminate
my notes of Prout's Lenten vindicice. But, alas ! stUl more
abrupt was the death of this respectable divine, which oc-
curred last month, on Shrove Tuesday. There was a peculiar
fitness in the manner of Anacreon's exit from this life ; but
not so in the melancholy termination of Prout's abstemious
career, an account of which is conveyed to me in a long and
pathetic letter from my agent in Ireland. It was well
known that he disliked revelry on all occasions ; but if there
was a species of gormandising which he more especially
abhorred, it was that practised in the parish on pancake-
night, which he frequently endeavoured to discountenance
and put down, but unsuccessfully. Oft did he tell his rude
auditors (for he was a profound Hellenist) that such orgies
had originated with the heathen G-reeks, and had been even
among them the source of many evils, as the very name
shewed, wai/ xaxov ! So it would appear, by Prout's etymc-
logy of the pancake, that in the English language there
AN APOLOGY rOE liENT. 27
are many terms which answer the description of Horace,
and
' Orseco fonte cadunt paroe detorta.'
Contrary to his own better taste and sounder judgment,
he was, however, on last Shrove Tuesday, at a wedding-feast
of some of my tenantry, induced, from complacency to the
newly -married couple, to eat of the profane aliment ; and
never was the Attic derivation of the pancake more wofully
accomplished than in the sad result— for his condescension
cost him his life. The indigestible nature of the compost
itself might not have been so destructive in an ordinary
case ; but it was quite a stranger and ill at ease in Pather
Prout's stomach : it eventually proved fatal in its efi'ects,
and hurried him away from this vale of tears, leaving the
parish a widow, and making orphans of all his parishioners.
My agent writes that his funeral (or herring, as the Irish
call it) was thronged by dense multitudes from the whole
county, and was as well attended as if it were a monster
meeting. The whole body of his brother clergy, with the
bishop as usual in full pontificals, were mourners on the
occasion ; and a Latin elegy was composed by the most
learned of the order, Pather Magrath, one, like Pront, of
the old school, who had studied at Florence, and is still a
correspondent of many learned Societies abroad. That elegy
I have subjoined, as a record of Prout's genuine worth, and
as a specimen of a kiad of poetry called Leonine verse, little
cultivated at the present day, but greatly in vogue at tho
revival of letters under Leo X.
IN MOETEM TENBEABILIS ANDEEiB PEOOT, CAEMEN.
Quid juvat in pulcAro Sanctos dormire sepukhro !
Optimus usque bonos nonue manebit honos ?
Plebs ten\afossd Pastoris oondidit ossa,
Splendida sed miri mens petit astra viri.
Porta patens esto I coelum reseretur honesto,
Neve sit & Petro jussus abire retro.
Tota malam sortem sibi flet vioinia mortem,
Xrt pro patre solent undique rura dolent ;
Sed fures gaudent ; seeuros bacteniks audent
Disturbare greges, nee mage tua seges.
Audio singultus, rixas, miserosque tumultus,
Et pietas luget, sobrietasque/aifiV.
28 FATHEE PROTJT'S EBLIQTJES.
Namque flirore brevi liquid^ue ardentis aquiB vi
Antiquus Nicholas perdidit agricolas.
Jam patre defuncto, meliores fliunine cuncto
Lsetautur pisces obtinuiBse vices.
Exultans almo, Isetare sub aequore salmo i
Carpe, o carpe dies, nam tibi parta quies !
Gaudent angmllin, quia tandem est mortuus ille.
Presbyter Andreas, qui oapiebat eas.
Petro piscator plaouit pius artis amator,
Cui, propter mores, pandit utrosque/ore*.
Cur laohrymS./«Ji!« justi comitabitur unus ?
Plendum est non tali, sed bene morte mali :
Munera nunc Flora spargo. Sic flebile rare
Morescat gramen. Pace quiescat. Amen.
Sweet upland! where, lite hermit old, in peace sojoum'd
This priest devout ;
Mark where beneath thy rerdant sod lie deep inurn'd
The bones of Prout !
Nor deck with monumental shrine or tapering column
His place of rest,
Whose soul, above earth's homage, meek yet solemn,
Sits mid the blest.
Much was he prized, much loved ; his stern rebuke
• r • O'erawed sheep-stealers ;
^ And'rogues fear'd more the.good man's single look
, ■ * • Than forty Peelers.
'He's gone ; and discord' soon I ween will visit
•j . * The land with quarrels;
; , And the foul _deniori vex with BtUls illicit
..;. The village, morals.
No fktal chance could happen more to cross
' '^ ' The pubHo wishes ;
And all the neighbourhood deplore his loss.
Except the fislies ;
For he kept Lent most strict, and pickled herring
Preferred to gammon.
Grim Death has broke his angling-rod ; his herring
Delights the salmon.
No more can he hook up carp, eel, or trout,
For fasting pittance, — •
Arts which Saint Peter loved, whose gate to Prout
Q-ave prompt admittance.
Mourn not, but verdantly let shamrocks keep
His sainted dust ;
The bad man's death it well becomes to weep,^
Not so the just.
PACE IMPLORA,
JBage.2a.
29
No. II.
A PLEA rOE PILGBIMAGES ; SIE WALTEB SOOTt's TISIT
TO THE BLAENET STONE.
" Beware, beware
Of the black friar,
Who sitteth by Normaii stone :
For he mutters his prayer
In the midnight air.
And his mass of the days that are gone."
Bteon.
SiiroE the publication of this worthy man's " Apology for
Lent," which, with some account of his lamented death and
weU-attended funeral, appeared in our last Number, we have
written to his executors — (one of whom is Father Mat. Hor-
rogan, P. P. of the neighbouring village of Blarney ; and the
other, our elegiac poet, Father Magrath) — in the hope of
being able to negotiate for the valuable posthumous essays
and fugitive pieces which we doubted not had been left
behind in great abundance by the deceased. These two dis-
interested divines — fit associates and bosom-companions of
Prout during his lifetime, and whom, from their joint letters,
we should think eminently qualified to pick up the fallen
mantle of the departed prophet — have, in the most hand-
some manner, promised us all the literary and philosopWc
treatises bequeathed to them by the late incumbent of
Watergrasshill ; expressing, in the very complimentary note
which they have transmitted us, and which our modesty
prevents us from inserting, their thanks and that of the
whole parish, for our sympathy and condolence on this melan-
choly bereavement, and intimating at the same time their
regret at not being able to send us also, for our private
perusal, the collection of the good father's parochial ser-
mons ; the whole of which (a most valuable MS.) had been
taken off for his ovni use by the bishop, whom he had
made his residuary legatee. These " sermons" must be
30 FATHEE PBOTTt'S EELIQTJES.
doubtleas good things in their way — a theological iLiya.
da,\jlia — well adapted to swell the episcopal library ; but
as we confessedly are, and suspect our readers likewise to be,
a very improper multitude amongst whom to scatter such
pearls, we shall console ourselves for that sacrifice by plung-
ing head and ears into the abundant sources of intellectual
refreshment to which we shall soon have access, and from
which Prank Creswell, lucky dog ! has drawn such a draught
of inspiration.
" Sacros ausus recludere foutes !"
for assuredly we may defy any one that has perused Prout'a
vindication of fish-diet (and who, we ask, has not read it con
amore, conning it over with secret glee, and forthwith calling
out for a red-herring ?), not to prefer its simple unsophisti-
cated eloquence to the oration of TuUy pro Domo sud, or
Barclay's " Apology for Quakers." After all, it may have
been but a sprat to catch a whale, and the whole afiair may
turn out to be a Popish contrivance ; but if so, we have
taken the bait ourselves : we have been, like Pestus, " almost
persuaded," and Prout has wrought in us a sort of culinary
conversion. Why should we be ashamed to avow that we
have been edified by the good man's blunt and straight-
forward logic, and drawn from his theories on fish a higher
and more moral impression than from the dreamy visions of
an " English Opium-eater," or any other " Confessions " of
sensualism and gastronomy. If this " black friar " has got
smuggled in among our contributors, like King Saul among
the regular votaries of the sanctuary, it must be admitted
that, like the royal intruder, he has caught the tone and
chimed in with the general harmony of our political opinions
— no Whigling among true Tories, no goose among swans.
Argutos inter strepere anser olores.
How we long to get possession of " the Prout Papers !" that
chest of learned lumber which haunts our nightly visions !
Already, in imagination, it is within our grasp ; our greedy ,
hand hastUy its lid
" Unloots,
And all Arcadia breathes from yonder box !"
In this prolific age, when the most unlettered dolt can
find a mare's nest in the domain of philosophy, why should
A PLEA roB PIIGEIMAGES. 31
not we also cry, 'Eu^rixa/iev ! How much of novelty in his
views ! how much embryo discovery must not Prout unfold !
It were indeed a pity to consign the writings of so eminent
a scholar to oblivion : nor ought it be said, in scriptural
phrase, of him, what is, alas ! applicable to so many other
learned divines when they are dead, that " their works have
followed them." Such was the case of that laborious French
clergyman, the Abbe Trublet, of whom Voltaire profaaely
sings :
" L'Abb^ Trublet Icrit, le Lethe sur sea rives
Revolt aveo plaisir sea feuilles fugitives !"
Which epigram hath a recondite meaning, not obvious to the
reader on a first perusal ; and being interpreted into plain
English, for the use of the London University, it may run
thus:
" Lardner compileB — kind Lethe on her hanks
Eeoeivea the doctor's useful page with thanks."
Such may be the fate of Lardner and of Trublet, such the
ultimate destiny that awaits their literary labours ; but
neither men, nor gods, nor our columns (those graceful pil-
lars that support the Muses' temple), shall suffer this old
priest to remain in the unmerited obscurity from which Frank
CressweU. first essayed to draw him. To that young barrister
we have written, with a request that he would f arnish us with
further details concerning Prout, and, if possible, a few
additional specimens of his colloquial wisdom; reminding
him that modern taste has a decided tendency towards il-
lustrious private gossip, and recommending to him, as a
sublime model of the dramatico-biographic style, my Lady
Blessington's " Conversations of Lord Byron." How far he
has succeeded in following the ignis fatuus of her ladyship's
lantern, and how many bogs he has got immerged in because
of the dangerous hint, which we gave him in an evil hour,
the judicious reader wiU soon find out. Here is the com-
munication. OLIVEE TOEKE.
May 1, 1834.
32 FATHER PEOTIT'S BEHQTJBS.
FurnivaVs Tnn, April 14.
AcKNOWLEDGiwa the receipt of your gracious mandate,
0 Queen of Periodicals ! and kissing the top of your ivoiy
sceptre, may I be allowed to express untlamed my utter
devotion to your orders, in the language of ^olus, quondam
ruler of the winds :
' Tuns, O EnanfA, quid optes
■ Explorare labor, mihi jusaa capesaere fas est !"
without concealing, at the same time, my wonderment, and
that of many other sober individuals, at your patronising the
advocacy of doctrines and usages belonging exclusively to
another and far less reputable Queen (quean ?) whom I shall
have sufficiently designated when I mention that she sits upon
seven hills ! — in statmg which singular phenomenon con-
cerning her, I need not add that her fundamental maxima
must be totally different from yours. Many orthodox people
cannot understand how you could have reconciled it to your
conscience to publish, in its crude state, that Apology for
Lent, without adding note or comment in refutation of such
dangerous doctrines ; and are still more amazed that a Popish
pariph priest, from the wild Irish hills, could have got among
your contributors —
" Claimed kindred there, and have that claim aEowed."
It will, however, no doubt, give you pleasure to learn, that
you have established a lasting popularity among that learned
set of men the fishmongers, who are never scaly of their
support when deserved ; for, by a unanimous vote of the
" worshipful company " last meeting-day, the marble bust of
Father Prout, crowned with sea- weeds like a Triton, is to
be placed in a conspicuous part of their new hall at London
Bridge. But as it is the hardest thing imaginable to please
all parties, your triumph is rendered incomplete by the
grumbling of another not less respectable portion of the
community. By your proposal for the non-consumption of
butchers' meat, you have given mortal offence to the dealers
in horned cattle, and stirred up a nest of hornets in Smith-
field. In your perambulations of the metropolis, go not into
the bucolic purlieus of that dangerous district ; beware of
the enemy's camp ; tempt not the ire of men armed with
A. PlEA TOE PILGEIMAGES. 33
cold steel, else the long-dormant fires of that land celebrated
in every age as a tierra del fuego may he yet rekindled, and
made " red with uncommon wrath," for your especial roast-
ing. Lord Althorp is no warm friend of yours ; and by
your making what he calls " a most unprovoked attack on
the graziers," you have not propitiated the winner of the
prize ox.
" Fosnum habet in comu, — huno tii, Komane, caveto !"
In vain would you seek to cajole the worthy chancellor of
his Majesty's unfortunate exchequer, by the desirable pros-
pect of a net revenue from the ocean : you will make no im-
pression. His mind is not accessible to any reasoning on
that subject ; and, like the shield of Telamon, it is wrapt in
the impenetrable folds of seven tough bull-hides.
"But eliminating at once these insignificant topics, and
setting aside aU miaor things, let me address myself to the-
grand subject of my adoption. Verily, since the days of
that ornament of the priesthood and pride of Venice, Father
Paul, no divine has shed such lustre on the Church of Eome
as Father Prout. His brain was a storehouse of iaexhaustible
knowledge, and his memory a bazaar, in which the intel-
lectual riches of past ages were classified and arranged in
marvellous and brilliant assortment. When, by the libe-
rality oi his executor, you shall have been, put in possession
of his writings and posthumous papers, you wiU find I do
not exaggerate ; for though his mere conversation was
always instructive, still, the pen in his hand, more potent
than the wand of JProspero, embelHshed every subject with
an atrial charm ; and whatever department of literature it
touched on, it was sure to illuminate and adorn, from the
lightest and most ephemeral matters of the day, to the
deepest and most abstruse problems of metaphysical inquiry ;
vigorous and philosophical, at the same time that it is minute
and playful ; having no parallel unless we liken it to the
proboscis of an elephant, that can with equal ease shift an
obelisk and crack a nut.
Nor did he confine himself to prose. He was a chosen
favourite of the nine sisters, and flirted openly with them
all, his vow of celibacy preventing his forming a permanent
alliance with one alone. Hence pastoral poetry, elegy, son-
ai FATHEE PEOTTT'S EELIQUES.
nets, and still grander eflEusions in the best style of Bob
Montgomery, flowed from his muse in abundance ; but, I
must confess, his peculiar forte lay in the Pindaric. Be-
sides, he indulged copiously in &reek and Latin versifica-
tion, as weU as in French, Italian, and High Dutch; of
which accomplishments I happen to possess some fine spe-
cimens from his pen ; and before I terminate this paper, I
mean to introduce them to the benevolent notice of the
candid reader. By these you will find, that the Doric reed
of Theocritus was to him but an ordinary sylvan pipe — that
the lyre of Anacreon was as familiar to him as the German
flute — and that he played as well on the classic chords of
the bard of Mantua as on the Cremona fiddle ; at all events,
he will prove far superior as a poet to the covey of unfledged
rhymers who nestle in annuals and magazines. Sad abor-
tions ! on which even you, O Queen, sometimes take com-
passion, infusing into them a life
" Which did not you prolong,
The world had wanted many an idle song."
To return to his conversational powers : he did not waste
them on the generality of folks, for he despised the vulgar
herd of Corkonians with whom it was his lot to mingle ;
but when he was sure of a friendly circle, he broke out in
resplendent style, often humorous, at times critical, occa-
sionally profound, and always interesting. Inexhaustible in
his means of illustration, his fancy was an unwasted mine,
into which you had but to sink a shaft, and you were sure
of eHciting the finest ore, which came forth stamped with
the impress of genius, and fit to circulate amon^ the most
cultivated auditory : for though the mint of his brain now
and then would issue a strange and fantastic coinage, ster-
ling sense was sure to give it value, and ready wit to pro-
mote its currency. The rubbish and dust of the schools
with which his notions were sometimes incrusted did not
alter their intrinsic worth ; people only wondered how the
diaphanous mind of Prout could be obscured by such com-
mon stuflf: its brightness was still undiminished by the
admixture ; and like straws in amber, without deteriorating
the substance, these matters only made manifest its trans-
parency. Whenever he undertook to illustrate any subject
A PLEA rOE PILGEIMAGES. 35
worthy of him, he was always felicitous. I sh^ll give you
an instance.
There stands on the borders of his parish, near the village
of Blarney, an old castle of the M'Carthy family, rising
abruptly from a bold cliff, at the foot of which rolls a not
inconsiderable stream — the fond and frequent witness of
Prout's angling propensities. The well-wooded demesne,
comprising an extensive lake, a romantic cavern, and an
artificial wilderness of rocks, belongs to the family of Jef-
fereys, which boasts in the Dowager Countess GlengaU a
most distinguished scion ; her ladyship's mother having
been immortalised under the title of " Lady Jeffers," with
the other natural curiosities produced by this celebrated
spot, in that never-suificiently-to-be-encored song, the Groves
of Blarney. But neither the stream, nor the lake, nor the
castle, nor the village (a sad ruin ! which, but for the recent
establishment of a spinning-factory by some patriotic Cork-
onian, would be swept away altogether, or possessed by the
owls as a grant from Sultan Mahmoud) ; — none of these
picturesque objects has earned such notoriety for "the
Groves " as a certain stone, of a basaltic kind, rather unusual
in the district, plaped on the pinnacle of the main tower,
and endowed vrith the property of communicating to the
happy tongue that comes in contact with its polished surface
the gift of gentle insinuating speech, with soft talk in aU its
ramifications, whether employed in vows and promises light
as air, ima, vrsgoivra, such as lead captive the female heart ;
or elaborate mystification of a grosser grain, such as may
do for the House of Commons ; aU. summed up and charac-
terised by the mysterious term Blarney.*
Prout's theory on this subject might have remained dor-
* To Crofton Croter belongs the merit of elucidating this obscure
tradition. It appears that in 1602, when the Spaniards were exciting
our chieftains to harass the English authorities, Cormac M'Dermot
Carthy teld, among other dependencies, the castle of Blarney, and had
concluded an armistice with the lord-presidpnt, on condition of surren-
dering this fort to an English garrison. Day after day did his lordship
look for the fixlBlment of the compact ; while the Irish Pozzo di Borgo,
as loath to part with his stronghold as Russia to relinquish the Dar-
danelles, kept protocohsing with soft promises and delusive delays,
until at last Carew became the laughing-stock of Elizabeth's ministers,
and "Blarney talk" proverbial.
D 2
36 FATHEB PEOUT'S EELIQTJES.
mant for ages, and perhaps been ultimately lost to the
world at large, were it not for an event which occurred in
the summer of 1825, while I (a younker then) happened to
be on that visit to my aunt at Watergrasshill which even-
tually secured me her inheritance. The occurrence I am
about to commemorate was, in truth, one of the first mag-
nitude, and weU calculated, from its importance, to form an
epoch in the Annals of the Parish. It was the arrival of
SiE "Waltee Scott at Blarney, towards the end of the
month of July.
Tears have now rolled away, and the " Ariosto of the
North" is dead, and our ancient constitution has since
fallen under the hoofs of the Whigs ; quenched is many a
beacon-light in church and state — Prout himself is no more ;
and plentiful indications tell us we are come upon evil days :
but still may I be allowed to feel a pleasurable, though
somewhat saddened emotion, while I revert to that intellec-
tual meeting, and bid memory go back in " dream sublime"
to the glorious exhibition of Prout's mental powers. It
was, in sooth, a great day for old Ireland ; a greater still
for Blarney ; but, greatest of all, it dawned, Prout, on theel
Then it was that thy light was taken from under its sacer-
dotal bushel, and placed conspicuously before a man fit to
appreciate the effulgence of so brilliant a luminary — a light
which I, who pen these words in sorrow, alas ! shall never
gaze on more ! a light
" That ne'er shall shine again
On, Blarney's stream !"
That day it illumined the "cave," the " shady walks," and
the " sweet rock-close," and sent its gladdening beam into
the gloomiest vaults of the ancient fort ; for all the recon-
dite recesses of the castle were explored in succession by
the distinguished poet and the learned priest, and Prout
held a candle /to Scott.
We read with interest, in the historian Polybius, the
account of Hannibal's interview with Scipio on the plains
of Zama; and often have we, in our school-boy days of
unsophisticated feeling, sympathised with Ovid, when he
told us that he only got a glimpse of Virgil /but Scott
basked for a whole summer's day in the blaze of Prout's
A. PLEA FOE PILaElMAGES. 37
Wit, and witnessed the coruscations of his learning. The,
great Marius is said never to have appeared to such advan-
tage as when seated on the ruins of Carthage : with equal
dignity Prout sat on the Blarney stone, amid ruins of kin-
dred glory. Zeno taught in the " porch ;" Plato loved to
muse alone on the bold jutting promontory of Cape Sunium ;
Socrates, bent on finding Truth, " in sylvis Academi qiicerere
verum," sought her among the bowers of Academus ; Prout
courted the same coy nymph, and wooed her in the " groves
of Blarney."
I said that it was in the summer of 1825 that Sir "Walter
Scott, in the progress of his tour through Ireland, reached
Cork, and forthwith intimated his wish to proceed at once
on a visit to Blarney Castle. * Tor him the noble river, the
magnificent estuary, and unrivalled harbour of a city that
proudly bears on her civic escutcheon the well-applied
motto, " Statio bene flda carinis" had but little attraction
when placed in competition with a spot sacred to the Muses,
and wedded to immortal verse. Such was the interest which
its connexion with the popular literature and traditionary
stories of the country had excited in that master-mind —
such the predominance of its local reminiscences — such the
transcendent influence of song! Tor this did the then
" Grreat Unknown " wend his way through the purlieus of
" Grolden Spur," traversing the great manufacturing faux-
bourg of " Black Pool," and emerging by the " Eed Porge ;"
so intent on the classic object of his pursuit, as to disregard
the unpromising aspect of the vestibule by which alone it is
approachable. Many are the splendid mansions and hospi-
table halls that stud the suburbs of the " beautiful city,"
eacK boasting its grassy lawn and placid lake, each decked
vrith park and woodland, and each well furnished with that
paramount appendage, a hatterie de cuisine ; but all these
mstles were passed unheeded by, carent quia vote sacro. Gor-
geous residences, picturesque seats, magnificent villas, they
be, no doubt; but unknown to literature, in vain do they
plume themselves on their architectural beauty ; in vain do
they spread wide their well-proportioned lomy*— they cannot
soar aloft to the regions of celebrity.
On the eve of that memorable day I was sitting on_ a
Btool in the priest's parlour, poking the turf fire, while
38 TATHEE PEOUT'S EELIQUE3.
Prout, wlio had been angling all day, sat' nodding over his
" breviary" and, according to my calculation, ought to be
at the last psalm of vespers, when a loud official knock, not
usual on that bleak hill, bespoke the presence of no ordi-
nary personage. Accordingly, the " wicket, opening with a
latch," ushered in a messenger clad in the livery of the
ancient and loyal corporation of Cork, who announced him-
self as the bearer of a despatch from the mansion-house
to his reverence ; and, handing it with that deferential awe
which even his masters felt for the incumbent of "Water-
grasshUl, immediately withdrew. The letter ran thus : —
Council Chatnber, July 24, 1825.
Veet Eeteeend Dootoe Peotjt,
Cork harbours within its walls the illustrious author
of Waverley. On receiving the freedom of our ancient city,
which we presented to him (as usual towards distinguished
strangers) in a box carved out of a chip of the Blarney
stone, he expressed his determination to visit the old block
itself. As he will, therefore, be in your neighbourhood to-
morrow, and as no one is better able to do the honours than
you (our burgesses being sadly deficient in learning, as you
and I well know), your attendance on the celebrated poet is
requested by your old friend and foster-brother,
G-EOEGE Knapp,* Mayor.
* The repubKo of letters has great reason to complain of Dr. Maginn,
for his non-fulfilment of a positive pledge to publish " a great historical
work" on the mayors of Cork. Owing to this desideratum in the
annals of the empire, I am compelled to bring into notice thus abruptly
tlie most respectable civic worthy that has worn the cocked hat and
chain since the days of John Walters, who boldly proclaimed Perkin
Warbeek, in the reign of Henry VII., in the market-place of that beau-
tiftil city. Knapp's virtues and talents did not, like those of Donna
Ines, deserve to be called
" Classic all,
Ifor lay they chiefly in the mathematical,"
for hie favourite pursuit during the cauicule of 1826, was the extermi-
nation of mad dogs j and so vigorously did he urge the carnage during
the summer of his mayoralty, that some thought he wished to eclipse
the exploit of St. Patrick in destroying t)ie breed altogether, as the
taint did that of toads. A Cork poet, the laureate of the mansion-
A PLEA rOE PIIGEIMAGES. 39
Never shall I forget the beam of triumph that lit up
the old man's features on the perusal of Knapp's pithy-
summons ; and right warmly did he respond to my congra-
tulations on the prospect of thus coming in contact with bo
distinguished an author. " You are right, child!" said he ;
and as I perceived by his manner that he was about to enter
on one of those rambling trains of thought — half-homUy,
half-soliloquy — in which he was wont to indulge, I settled
myself by the fire-place, and prepared to go through my
accustomed part of an attentive listener.
" A great man, Prank ! A truly great man ! 'No token
of ancient days escapes his eagle glance, no venerable memo-
rial of former times his observant scrutiny ; and still, even
he, versed as he is in the monumentary remains of bygone
ages, may yet learn something more, and have no cause to
regret his visit to Blarney. Yes ! since out ' groves' are to
be honoured by the presence of the learned baronet,
' Sylvse sint oonsvile dignse !'
let us make them deserving of his attention. He shall fix
his antiquarian eye and rivet his wondering gaze on the
rude basaltic mass that crowns the battlements of the main
tower ; for though he may have seen the " chair at Scone,"
where the Caledonian kings were crowned ; though he may
have examined that Scotch pebble in Westminster Abbey,
which the Cockneys, in the exercise of a delightful credu-
lity, believe to be " Jacob's piUow ;" though he may have
visited the mishapen pillars on Salisbury plain, and the
Eock of Cashel, and the "Hag's Bed," and St. Kevin's
petrified matelas at Glendalough, and many a cromlech of
Druidical celebrity, — there is a stone yet unexplored, which
he shall contemplate to-morrow, and place on record among
his most profitable days that on which he shall have paid it
homage :
' Himc, Macrine, diem numera meKore lapillo !'
" I am old, Frank. In my wild youth I have seen many
house, has celebrated Knapp's prowess in a didactic composition, en-
titled Dog-Killing, a Poem ; in which the mayor is litened to Apollo in
the Glreciaji camp before Troy, in the opening of the Iliad: —
Avrap jSowj vpuiTov ip' wiciTO xai Kvvag Apyouj.
40 EATHEE EEOTJT's EEIIQTIES.
of the celebrated writers tliat adorned ^he decline of the
last century, and shed a lustre over ^France, too soon eclipsed
in blood at its sanguinary close. I have conversed with
Buffon and with Pontenelle, and held intercourse with
Nature's simplest child, Bernardin de St. Pierre, author of
' Paul and Virginia ;' Gresset and Marmontel were my
college-friends ; and to me, though a frequenter of the halls
of Sorbonne, the octogenaire of Ferney was not unknown :
nor was I unacquainted with ythe recluse of Ermenonville.
But what axe the souvenirs of a single period, however bril-
liant and interesting, to the recollections of full seven cen-
turies of historic glory, all condensed and concentrated in
Scott ? What a host of personages does his name conjure
up ! what mighty shades mingle in the throng of attendant
heroes that wait his bidding, and form his appropriate
retinue ! Cromwell, Claverhouse, and Montrose ; Saladin,
Front de Boeuf, and Ccbut de Lion ; Eob Boy, Eobin Hood,
and Marmion ; those who fell at Culloden and Flodden-
Pield, and those who won the day at Bannockburn, — all
start up at the presence of the Enchanter. I speak not of
his female forms of surpassing loveliness — his Flora M'lvor,
his Eebecea, his Amy Kobsart : these you, Frank, can best
admire. But I know not how I shall divest myself of a
secret awe when the wizard, with all his spells, shall rise
before me. The presence of my old foster-brother, George
Knapp, will doubtless tend to dissipate the illusion ; but if
so it will be by personifying the Baillie Nicol Jarvie of
Glasgow, his worthy prototype. Nor are Scott's merits
those simply of a pleasing novelist or a spirit-stirring poet ;
his ' Life of Dryden,' his valuable commentaries on Swift,
his researches in the dark domain of demonology, his bio-
graphy of Napoleon, and the sterling views of European
policy developed in 'Paul's Letters to his Kinsfolk,' all
contribute to enhance his literary pre-eminence. Eightly
has Sihus ItaUcus depicted the Carthaginian hero, sur-
rounded even in solitude by a thousand recollections of well-
earned renown —
' STec credis inermem
Quem Tnihi tot cinxere duces : si admoTeria ora,
Cannas et Trebiam ante oouloa, Komanaqtie busta,
Et Pauli stare ingentem miraberis mnbram !"
A I'LEA rOE PILGBIMAGES. 41
Tet, greatly and deservedly as he is prized by his contempo-
raries, future ages wiU value him even more ; and his laurel,
ever extending its branches, and growing in secret like the
' fame of Marcellus,' will overshadow the earth. Posterity
will canonise his every relic ; and his footsteps, even in this
remote district, wiU be one day traced and sought for by the
admirers of genius. For, notwithstanding the breadth and
brilliancy of effect with which he waved the torch of mind
while living, far purer and more serene will be the lamp
that shall glimmer in his tomb and keep vigil over his hal-
lowed ashes : to that fount of inspiration other and minor
spirits, eager to career through the same orbit of glory, wiU
recur, and
' In their golden uma draw light.'
Nor do I merely look on him as a writer who, by the blan-
dishment of his narrative and the witchery of his style, has
calmed more sorrow, and caused more happy hours to flow,
than any save a higher and a holier page, — a writer who,
like the autumnal meteor of his own North, has illumined
the dull horizon of these latter days with a fancy ever varied
and radiant with ioyfulness, — one who, for useful purposes,
has interwoven the plain warp of history with the many-
coloured web of his own romantic loom ; — but further do I
hail in him the genius who has rendered good and true
service to the cause of mankind, by driving forth from the
temple of Eeligion, with sarcasm's knotted lash, that canting
puritanic tribe who would obliterate from the book of life
every earthly enjoyment, and change all ite paths of peace
into walks of bitterness. I honour him for his efforts to
demolish the pestilent influence of a sour and sulky system
that would interpose itself between the gospel sun and the
world — that retains no heat, imbibes no light, and transmits
none ; but flings its broad, cold, and disastrous shadow over
the land that is cursed with its visitation.
" The excrescences and superfcetations of my own church
most freely do I yield up to his censure ; for while in his
Abbot Boniface, his Priar Tuck, and his intriguing Eash-
leigh, he has justly stigmatised monastic laziness, and de-
nounced ultramontane duplicity, he has not forgotten to
exhibit the bright reverse of the Eoman medal, but has done
fuE. measure of justice to the nobler inspirations of our
42 FATHEE PEOUT'S EELIQITES.
creed, bodied fortt in Mary Stuart, Hugo de Lacy, Catlie-
rine Seaton, Die Vernon, and Eose de Bdranger. Nay, even
in his fictions of cloistered life, among the drones of that
ignoble crowd, he has drawn minds of another sphere, and
spirits whose ingenaous nature and piety unfeigned were
not worthy of this world's deceitful intercourse, but fitted
them to commune in solitude with Heaven.
" Such are the impressions, and such the mood of mind in
which I shall accost the illustrious visitor ; and you, Frank,
shall accompany me on this occasion."
Accordingly, the next morning found Prout, punctual to
Knapp's summons, at his appointed post on the top of the
castle, keeping a keen look-out for the arrival of Sir Walter.
He came, at length, up the " laurel avenue," so called from
the gigantic laurels that overhang the path,
" Which bowed.
As if each brought a new classic wreath to his head ;"
and alighting at the castle-gate, supported by Knapp, he
toUed up the winding stairs as well as his lameness -would
permit, and stood at last, with aU. his fame around him, in
the presence of Prout. The form of mutual introduction
was managed by KJaapp with his usual tact an4 urbanity ;
and the first interchange of thoughts soon convinced Scott
that he had lit on no " clod of the valley " in the priest.
The confabulation which ensued may remind you of the
" TusculansB Qusestiones " of Tully, or the dialogues " De
Oratore," or of Home Tooke's " Diversions of Purley," or of
all three together. La void.
SCOTT.
I congratulate myself, reverend father, on the prospect of
having so experienced a guide in exploring the wonders of
this celebrated spot. Indeed, I am so far a member of your
communion, that I take delight in pilgrimages ; and you be-
hold in me a pilgrim to the Blarney stone.
PEOTJT.
I accept the guidance of so sincere a devotee ; nor has a
more accomplished palmer ever worn scrip, or stafi", or
BcoUop-shell, in my recollection ; nay, more— right honoured
Bhall the pastor of the neighbouring upland feel in afibrding
A PLEA rOE PILflEIMAGES. 43
shelter and hospitality, such as every pilgrim has claim to
if the penitent will deign visit my humble dwelling.
SCOTT.
My vow forbids ! I must not think of bodily refresh-
ment, or any such profane solicitudes, untU I go through
the solemn rounds of my devotional career — until I kiss
"the stone," and explore the "cave where no daylight
enters," the " fracture in the battlement," the " lake well
stored with fishes," and, finally, " the sweet rock-close."
PEOTTT.
All these shall you duly contemplate when you shall have
rested from the fatigue of climbing to this lofty eminence,
whence, seated on these battlements, you cap command a
landscape fit to repay the toil of the most laborious pere-
grination ; in truth, if the ancient observance were not
sufficiently vindicated by your example to-day, I should
have thought it my duty to take up the gauntlet for that
much-abused set of men, the pilgrims of olden time.
SCOTT.
In all cases of initiation to any solemn rites, such as I am
about to enter on, it is customary to give an introductory
lecture to the neophyte ; and as you seem disposed to
enlighten us with a preamble, you have got, reverend father,
in me a most docile auditor.
" PEOUT.
There is a work, Sir Walter, with which I presume you
are not unacquainted, which forcibly and bedutifuUy por-
trays the honest fervour of our forefathers in their untu-
tored views of Christianity : but if the " Tales of the
Crusaders " count among their dramatis persontB the mitred
prelate, the cowled hermit, the croziered abbot, and the
gallant templar, strange mixture of daring and devotion, —
far do I prefer the sketch of that peculiar creation of Catho-
Jicity and romance, the penitent under solemn vow, who
comes down from Thabor or from Lebanon to embark for
Europe : and who in rude garb and with unshodden feet
will return to his native plains of Languedoc or Lombardy,
44 FATHEE PEOrT'S EELIQTJES.
displaying with pride the emblem of Palestine, and realising
what Virgil only dreamt of —
" Primus Idiimseas referam tibi, Mantua, palmas !"
But I am wrong in saying that pilgrimages belong exclu-
sively to our most ancient form of Christianity, or that the
patent for this practice appertains to religion at all. It is
the simplest dictate of our nature, though piety has conse-
crated the practice, and marked it for her own. Patriotism,
poetry, philanthropy, all the arts, and all the finer feelings,
have their pilgrimages, their hallowed spots of intense in-
terest, their haunts of fancy and of inspiration. It is
the first impulse of every genuine afiection, the tendency
of the heart in its fervent youthhood ; and nothing but the
cold scepticism of an age which Edmund Burke so truly
designated as that of calculators and economists, could scoff
at the enthusiasm that feeds on ruins such as these, that
visits with emotion the battle-field and the ivied abbey, or
Shakespeare's grave, or Galileo's cell, or Eunnymede, or
Marathon.
PUial affection has had its pilgrim in Telemachus ; gene-
rous and devoted loyalty in Blondel, the best of trouba-
dours ; Bruce, Belzoni, and Humboldt, were pilgrims of
science ; and John Howard was the sublime pilgrim of
philanthropy.
Actuated by a sacred feeHng, the son of Ulysses visited
every isle and inhospitable shore of the boisterous ^gean,
until a father clasped him in his arms ; — propelled by an
equally absorbing attachment, the faithful minstrel of Coeur
de Lion sang before every feudal castle in Germany, until
at last a dungeon-keep gave back the responsive echo of
" O Richard ! 0 mon roy !" If Belzoni died toilworn and
dissatisfied — if Baron Humboldt is still plodding his course
through the South American peninsula, or wafted on the
bosom of the Pacific — it is because the domain of science is
infinite, and her votaries must never rest :
" For there are wanderers o'er eternity,
Whose bark goes on and on, and anohor'd ne'er shall be !"
But when Howard explored the secrets of every prison-i
house in Europe, performing that which Burke classically
described as " a circumnavigation of charity ;" nay, when,
A PLEA FOE PILGEIMAGES. 45
on a still holier errand, three eastern sages came from the
boundaries of the earth to do homage to a cradle ; think ye
not that in theirs, as in every pilgrim's progress, a light
unseen to others shone on the path before them ? derived
they not untiring vigour from the exalted nature of their
pursuit, felt they not " a pinion lifting every limb ?" Such
are the feelings which Tasso beautifully describes when he
brings his heroes within view of Sion :
" Al grand piacer che quella prima vista
Doloemente epird, uell' altrui petto,
Alta contrizion successe, mista
Di timoroso e riverente aifetto.
Osano appena d' innalzar la vista
Ver la oittJl, di Cristo albergo eletto.
Dove mori, dove sepolto £ue.
Dove poi rivesfi le membra sue !"
Canto III.
I need not tell you. Sir Walter, that the father of history,
previous to taking up the pen of Clio, explored every monu-
ment of Upper Egypt ; or that Herodotus had been pre-
ceded by Homer, and followed by Pythagoras, in this philo-
sophic pilgrimage ; that Athens and Corinth were the
favourite resorts of the Eoman literati, Sylla, Lueullus, and
Mecsenas, when no longer the seats of empire; and that
Eome itself is, in its turn, become as weU the haunt of the
antiquarian as the poet, and the painter, and the Christian
pilgrim ; for dull indeed would that man be, duller than the
stagnant weed that vegetates on Lethe's shore, who again
would put the exploded interrogatory, once fallen, not in-
aptly, from the mouth of a clown —
" Quse tanta fuit Eomam tibi causa videndi ?"
I mean not to deny that there exist vulgar minds and souls
without refinement, whose perceptions are of that stunted
nature that they can see nothing in the " pass of Thermo-
pylae" but -a gap for cattle; in the "Forum" but a cow-
yard ; and for whom St. Helena itself is but a barren rock :
but, thank Heaven ! we are not all yet come to that unen-
viable stage of utilitarian philosophy ; and there is still some
hope left for the Muses' haunts, when he of Abbotsford
blushes not to visit the castle, the stone, and the groves of
Blarney.
46 TATHEE PBOn'S EELIQUES.
Nor is lie unsupported in the indulgence of this classic
fancy ; for there'texists another pilgrim, despite of modem
cavils, who keeps up the credit of the profession — a way-
ward childe, whose restless spirit has long since spurned
the solemn dulness of conventional life, preferring to hold
intercourse with the mountain-top and the ocean-brink :
Ida and Salamis " are to him companionship ;" and every
broken shaft, prostrate capital, and marble fragment of that
sunny land, tells its tale of other days to a fitting listener ia
Harold : for him Etruria is a teeming soil, and the spirit of
song haunts Eavenna and Parthenope : for him
" There is a tomb in ArquV'
which to the stolid peasant that wends his away along the
Euganeian hills is mute , indeed as the grave, nor breathes
the name of its indweller ; but a voice breaks forth from
the mausoleum at the passage of Byron, the ashes of Pe-
trarch grow warm in their marble bed, and the last wish of
the poet La his " Legacy" is accomplished:
" Then if some bard, who roams forsaken.
Shall touch on thy cof ds in passing along,
O may one thought of its master waken
The sweetest smile for the Childe of Song .'"
SCOTT.
Proud and flattered as I must feel, O most learned
divine ! to be classified with Herodotus, Pythagoras, Bel-
zoni, Bruce, and Bjrron, I fear much that I am but a sorry
sort of pilgrim, after all. Indeed, an eminent writer of
your church has laid it down as a maxim, which I suspect
applies to my case, " Qui multiim peregrinantur rarb sancti-
ficantur." Does not Thomas 4 Kempis say so ?
PEOXJT.
The doctrine may be sound ; but the book from which
you quote is one of those splendid productions of uncertain
authorship which we must ascribe to some " great unknown"
of the dark ages.
SCOTT.
Be that as it may, I can give you a parallel sentiment
from one of your Erench poets ; for I understand you are
A PLEA rOE PILGEIMAGEP 47
partial to the literature of that merry nation. The pUgrim's
wanderings are compared by this gallic satirist to the
meandering course of a river in Germany, which, after
watering the plains of Protestant Wirtemberg and Catholic
Austria, enters, by way of finale, on the domaias of the
Grand Turk :
" J'ai Tu le Danube inconstant,
Qui, tantot Catholique et tant6t Protestant,
Sert Rome et Luther de son onde ;
Mais, comptant aprfes pour rieu
Komain et Luth&ien,
Finit sa course vagabonde
Par n'etre pas mSme Chretien.
Earement en eourant le monde
On devient homme de bien !"
By the way, have you seen Stothard's capital print, " The
Pilgrimage to Canterbury ?"
PBOTJT. <
Such orgies on pious pretences I cannot but deplore, with
Chaucer, Erasmus', Dryden, and Pope, who were all of my
creed, and pointedly condemned them. The Papal hierarchy
IQ this country have repeatedly discountenanced such unholy
doings. Witness their efforts to demolish the cavern of
Loughderg, called St. Patrick's Purgatory, that has no
better claim to antiquity than our Blarney cave, in which
" bats and badgers are for ever bred." And still, concerning
this truly Irish curiosity, there is a document of a droU
description in Eymer's " Foedera," in the 32d year of Ed-
ward III., A.D. 1358. It is no less than a certificate, duly
made out by that good-natured monarch, shewing to aU men
as how a foreign nobleman did really visit the Cave of St.
Patrick,* and passed a night in its mysterious recesses.
* This is, we believe, what Prout alludes to ; and we confess it is a
precious relic of olden simpUcity, and ought to see the Ught : —
" A.D. 1358, an. 32 Edw. III.
"Litterse teBtimonialea super mor^ in S"' Patricii Purgatorio. Eex
universis et singulis ad quos prsesentes Htterte pervenerint, salutem !
"Nobilis vir Malatesta TJngarus de Arimeftio, miles, ad prsesentiam
nostram veniens, mature nobis exposuit quod ipse nuper a terras suse
discedens laribus, Purgatorium Sancti Patricii, infra terram nostram
Hybemiae constitutum, in miiltis corporis sui laboribus peregre visittoat,
48 FA.THEE PEOUT'S EELIQTTES.
SCOTT.
I was aware of the existence of that document, as also of
the remark made by one Erasmus of Rotterdam concerning
the said cave: "Non desunt hodiii qui descendunt, sed
pritis triduano enecti jejunio ne sano capite ingrediantur." *
Erasmus, reverend friend, was an honour to your cloth ;
but as to Edward III., I am not surprised he should have
encouraged such excursions, as he belonged to a family
whose patronymic is traceable to a pilgrim's vow. My
reverend friend is surely in possession of the historic fact,
ao per integrse diei ac noctis eontinuatum spatium, ut est moris, cJausus
manserat in eodem, nobis cum instantiS, supplicando, ut in prsemissorum
veraciuB fulcimentum regales nostras litteras inde sibi concedere dJgna-
remur.
"Nos autem ipsius peregrinationis considerantes perictdosa discri-
mina, licet tanti nobilis in h4o parte nobis assertio eit accepta, quia
tamen dileoti ao fidelis nostri Almarici de S'° Amaudo, militis, justioiarii
nostri Hybernise, simul ao Prioris et Conventds loci dicti Purgatorii, et
etiam aliorum auctoritatis multse virorum litteris, aKisque Claris eviden-
tiis informamur quod diotus nobilis banc peregrmationem ril^ perfecerat
et etiam animosh.
" Dignum duximus super bis testimonium nostrum faTorabUiter ad-
hibere, ut sublato cujusvis dubitationis involucro, prEemissorum Veritas
singulis lucidius patefiat, bas litteras nostras sigillo regio consignatas
illi duximus concedendas.
" Dat' in palatio nostro West', xxiv die Octobris, 1358."
Rymer's Foedera, by Caley. London, 1825.
Tol. iii. pt. i. p. 408.
* Erasmus in Adagia, artic. de antro Trophonii. See also Camden's
account of tbis cave in bis Hybernice Descriptio, edition of 1 594, p. 671.
It is a singular fact, though little known, that from the visions said to
occur in this cavern, and bruited abroad by the fraternity of monks,
whose connexion with Italy was constant and intimate, Dante took the
first hint of his Divina Commedia, II Purgatorio. Such was the cele-
brity this cave had obtained in Spain, that the great dramatist Calderon
made it the subject of one of his best pieces ; and it was so well known
at the court of Ferrara, that Ariosto introduced it into his Orlando
Furinso, canto x. stanza 92.
" Q.uindi Euggier, poioh6 di banda in banda
Tide gl' luglesi, and6 verso 1' Irlanda
E vide Ibernia fabulosa, dove
II santo vecchiarel fece la cava
In che tanta merce par che si trove,
C!he 1' uom vi purga ogni sua colpa prava !"
A PLEA TOE PILSEIMAGES. 49
that the name of Plantagenet is derived from plante de
genest, a sprig of heath, which the first Duke of Anjou wore
in his helmet as a sign of penitential humiliation, when
ahout to depart for the holy land : though why a broom-
sprig should iadicate lowliness is not satisfactorily explaiaed.
PEOTJ!^.
The monks of that day, who are reputed to have been
very ignorant, were perhaps acquainted with the " G-eorgics"
of Virgil, and recollected the verse —
"Quidmajora sequar? SisRoea humilesgue Genista."
II. 434.
SCOTT.
I suppose there is some similar recondite allusion in that
imaccountable decoration of every holy traveller's accoutre-
ment, the scoUop-shell ? or was it merely used to quaff the
waters of the brook ?
PEOTTT.
It was first assumed by the penitents who resorted to the
shriue of St. Jago di ComposteUa, on the western coast of
Spain, to betoken that they had extended their penitential
excursion so far as that sainted shore ; just as the palm-
branch was sufficient evidence of a vfsit to Palestine. Did
not the soldiers of a Eoman general fill their helmets with
cockles on the brink of the German Ocean ? By the by,
when my laborious and learned friend the renowned Abb6
Trublet, in vindicatiag the deluge against Voltaire, instanced
the heaps of marine remains and conchy lia on the ridge of the
Pyrenees, the witty reprobate of Perney had the unblushing
effrontery to assert that those were sheUs left behind by the
pilgrims of St. Jacques on re-crossing the mountains.
SCOTT.
I must not, meantime, forget the objects of my devotion ;
and with your benison, reverend father, shall proceed to
examine the " stone."
PEOTJT.
Tou behold, Sir "Walter, in this block the most valuable
50 I'ATHEE PEOUT's EELIQUES.
remnant of Ireland's ancient glory, and the most precioiiB
lot of her Phoenician inheritance ! Possessed of this trea-
sure, she may well be designated
" First flower of the earth and first gem of the sea ;"
for neither the musical stone of Memnon, that " so sweetly
played in tune," nor the oracular stone at Delphi, nor the
lapidary talisman of the Lydian Gyges, nor the colossal
granite shaped into a sphinx in Upper Egypt, nor Stone-
henge, nor the Pelasgic walls of Italy's Palsestruia, offer
BO many attractions. The long-sought lapis philosophorum,
compared with this jewel, dwindles into insignificance ; nay,
the savoury fragment which was substituted for the infant
Jupiter, when Saturn had the mania of devouring his child-
ren ; the Luxor obelisk ; the treaty-stone of Limerick, with
all its historic endearments ; the zodiacal monument of
Denderach, with all its astronomic importance ; the Elgin
marbles with all their sculptured, the Arundelian with all
their lettered riches, — cannot for a moment stand in com-
petition with the Blarney block. What stone in the world,
save this alone, can communicate to the tongue that suavity
of speech, and that splendid effrontery, so necessary to get
through life ? Without this resource, how could Brougham
have managed to delude the English public, or Dan O'Con-
neU to gull even his own countrymen? How could St.
John Long thrive ? or Dicky Sheil prosper ? What else
could have transmuted my old friend Pat Lardner into a man
of letters— LL.D., F.E.S.L. and E., M.R.I.A., E.E.A.S.,
E.L.S., F.Z.S., E.C.P.S., &c. &c. ? What would have be-
come of Spring Eice ? and who would have heard of Charley
Phillips ? When the good fortune of the above-mentioned
individuals can be traced to any other source, save and
except the Blarney stone, I am ready to renounce my belief
in, it altogether-.
This palladium of our country was brought hither origi-
nally by the Phoenician colony that peopled Ireland, and is
the best proof of our eastern parentage. The inhabitants of
Tyre and Carthage, who for many years had the Blarney
stone in their custody, made great use of the privilege, as
the ^noy&vhs fides Punica, Tyriosque bilinffues, testify. Hence
A PlEA I'OE riLGBIMAGES. 51
the origin of this wondrous talisman is of the remotest
antiquity.
Strabo, Diodorus, and PHny, mention the arrival of the
Tyrians in Ireland about the year 883 before Christ, accord-
ing to the chronology of Sir Isaac Newton, and the twenty-
first year after the sack of Troy.
Now, to show that in all their migrations they carefully
watched over this treasure of eloquence and source of di-
plomacy, I need only enter into a few etymological details.
Carthage, where they settled for many centuries, but which
turns out to have been only a stage and resting-place in
the progress of their western wanderings, bears in its very
name the trace of its having had in its possession and cus<
tody the Blarney Stone. This city is called in the Scripture
Tarsus, or Tarshish, ip'irnn, which in Hebrew means s
valuable stone, a stone of price, rendered in your authorised ( ?)
version, where it occurs in the 28th and 39th chapters oi
Exodus, by the specific term beryl, a sort of jewel. In his
commentaries on this word, an eminent rabbi, Jacob Eodri-
gues Moreira, the Spanish Jew, says that Carthage is evi-
dently the Tarsus of the Bible, and he reads the word thus —
Uinn, accounting for the termination in ish, by which
Carthago becomes Garskish, iu a veryplausible way: "now,"
says he, " our peoplish have de very great knack of ending
dere vords in ish ; for if you go on the 'Change, you will
hear the great man NichoUsh Eotchild calling the English
coin, monuh." — ^ee Lectures delivered in the Western Syna-
gogue, by J. E. M.
But, further, does it not stand to reason that there
must be some other latent way of aceountiag for the pur-
chase of as much ground as an ox-hide would cover, besides
the generally received and most unsatisfactory explanation ?
The fact is, the Tyrians bought as much land as their Blarney
stone would require to fix itself golidly,—
" Taurino quantum potuit circumdare tergo ;''
and having got that much, by the talismanic stone they
humbugged and deluded the simple natives, and finally be-
came the masters of Africa.
SCOTT.
I confess you have thrown a new and unexpected light on
E 2
52 FATHEE PEOn'S EELIQTJBS.
a most obscure passage in ancient history; but how the
stone got at last to the county of Cork, appears to me a
difficult transition. It must give you great trouble.
PEOTTT.
My dear sir, don't mention it ! It went to Minorca with
a chosen body of Carthaginian adventurers, who stole it
away as their best safeguard on the expedition. They first
settled at Port Mahon, — a spot so called from the clan of
the O'Mahonys, a powerful and prolific race stUl flourishing
in this county ; just as the Nile had been previously so
named from the tribe of the O'NeUs, its aboriginal inhabi-
tants. All these matters, and many more curious points, will
be one day revealed to the world by my friend Henry
O'Brien, iu his work on the Eound Towers of Ireland. Sir,
we built the pyramids before we left Egypt ; and aU thos6
obelisks, sphinxes, and Memnonic stones, were but emblems
of the great relic before you.
George Knapp, who had looked up to Prout with dumb
amazement from the commencement, here pulled out his
spectacles, to examine more closely the old block, while Scott
shook his head doubtingly.
" I can convince the most obstinate sceptic. Sir "Walter,"
continued the learned doctor, " of the intimate connexion
that subsisted between us and those islands which the Eo-
mans called insula Baleares, without knowing the sigrufieatioQ
of the words which they thus applied. That they were so
called from the Blarney stone, will appear at once to any
person accustomed to trace Celtic derivations : the Ulster
king of arms, Sir William Betham, has shown it by the fol-
lowing scale."
Here Prout traced with his cane on the muddy floor of the
castle the words
" BaLeAEcs iSsulM='Eisrxi^ !"
SOOTT.
Prodigious ! My reverend friend, you have set the point
at rest for ever — rem acu tetigisti ! Have the goodness to
proceed.
A PLEA FOE PILGEIMAGES. 53
PEOrT.
Setting sail from Minorca, the expedition, after encounter-
ing a desperate storm, cleared the Pillars of Hercules, and
landing in the Cove of Cork, deposited their treasure in the
greenest spot and the shadiest groves of this beautiful vi-
cinity.
SCOTT.
How do you account for their being left by the Cartha-
ginians in quiet possession of this invaluable deposit ?
PEOUT.
They had sufficient tact (derived from their connexion
with the stone) to give out, that in the storm it had been
thrown overboard to relieve the ship, in latitude 36° 14",
longitude 24°. A search was ordered by the senate of Car-
thage, and the Mediterranean was dragged without effect \
but the mariners of that sea, according to Virgil, retained a
superstitious reverence for every submarine appearance of
a stone :
" SaXB, TOcant Itali mediis qase in fluctibus aras !"
And Aristotle distinctly says, in his treatise " De Mirandis,"
quoted by the erudite Justus Lipsius, that a law was enacted
against any further intercourse with Ireland. His words
are ; " In man, extra Herculis Columnas, insulam desertam
inventam fuisse sylvd netnorosam, in quam crebr6 Carthagini-
enses commeirint, et sedes etiam fixerint : sed veriti ne
nimis cresceret, et Carthago laberetur, edicto cavisse ne
quis poBnA capitis e6 deinceps navigaret."
The fact is, Sir "Walter, Ireland was always considered a
lucky spot, and constantly excited the jealousy of Greeks,
Eomans, and people of every country. The Athenians
thought that the ghosts of departed heroes were transferred
to our fortunate island, which they call, in the war-song of
Harmodius and Aristogiton, the land of O's and Macs :
^iXraS' 'Agf/,odi, outs vou Tihrixag,
Nnaoif d' IV MAK ag' XIN (fs (paeiv umi.
And the " Groves of Blarney " have been commemorated
by the Greek poets many centuries before the Christian era.
51 TATnEE pboitt's eemques.
BCOTT.
There is certainly somewhat of Grecian simplicity in the
old song itself ; and if Pindar had been an Irishman, I think
he would have celebrated this favourite haunt ia a style not
very different from Millikin's classic rhapsody.
PEOTTT.
MilUkin, the reputed author of that song, was but a,
simple translator from the Greek origiaal. Indeed, I have
discovered, when abroad, in the library of Cardinal Mazarin,
an old Greek manuscript, which, after diligent examination,
I am convinced must be the oldest and .";princeps editio "
of the song. I begged to be allowed to copy it, in order
that I might compare it vrith the ancient Latin or Vulgate
translation which is preserved rathe Brera at Milan ; and
from a strict and minute comparison with that, and with the
Norman-French copy which-is appended to Doomsday-book,
and the .Celtic-Irish fragaaent preserved by Crofton Croker,
(rejecting as spurious the Arabic, Armenian, and Chaldaic
stanzas on -the same subject, to be found in the collection of
the.Sojfal. Asiatic Society,) r have come to the conclusion
that "the- Greeks were tlie undoubted original contrivers of
that spl^hdid'ode ; though whether' we ascribe it to Tyrtaeus
or GaUimachus will depend on future evidence ; and per-
haps, 'Sir Walter, you would give me your opinion, as I have
copies of aU the versions I alludfe- to at my dwelling on the
hill.
- SbpTT.
I cannot boast, learned father, of .much vous in Hellenistic
matters; but should find myself quite. at home in the Gaelic
and Norman- Erench, to inspect which I shall with pleasure
accompany you : so here I kiss- the stone !
The wonders of " the castle," and " cave," and " lake,"
were speedily gone over ; and now, according to the usage
of the dramatist, modo Roma, modb ponit Athenis, we shift
the scene to the tabernacle of Father Prout on Watergrass-
hill, where, round a small table, sat Scott, Knapp, and Prout
— a triumvirate of critics never equalled. The papers
So iL^rp 1 lEiss ttiG Sione
A PLEA Jl'OE PILOEIMAGES.
55
fell into my hands when the table was cleared for
the subsequent repast ; and thus I am able to submit
to the world's decision what these three could not de-
cide, viz. which is the original version of the " Groves of
Blarney."
P.S. At the moment of going to press with the Doric,
the Vulgate, and Grallic texts in juxta-position with the sup-
posed original, (Corcagian) a fifth candidate for priority
starts up, the Italic, said to be sung by Garibaldi in bivouac
amid the woods over Lake Como, May 25, 1859.
Dr Blame' i bosohi
Bei, benclie fosohi,
In Tersi Toschi
Vorrei oantar —
Lk doTe meschi
Son fiori freschi
Ben pittoreachi
Pel passegiar.
Vi Bono gigli
Bianch' e TermigU
Ch' ogntm ne pigli
In UbertS. —
Anch' odorose
Si eoglian' rose
Da gioyin' spose
Kor di belU !
Miladi &ifra
Si gode qni ir^
Immensa cifra
Di rioehi ben,
E tutti sanno
Se Carlomanno
E Cesare hanno
Piii cor nel sen.
II fier' CromweUo
Si sa, fa quelle
Ch' a sue castello
Assalto di^,
Si dice per6
Ch' Oliriero
Al quartiero
La breccia & I
J J3oJicT)t "Hi JSlarnea.
Quei luoghi dimqne
Veggo ; chivinque
Brama spelunche
Non cerch' in van,
Dentr' una grotta
Vi'^ fiera lotta
Mai interrotta
Era gatti stran'.
Ma fuor si serba
Di musco ed erba
Sedia superba
Per qiii pescar
Nel lago anguille j
Poi faggi mOIe
L'acque tranquille
Stan per ombrar.
Con cheto passo
Si va a spasso
Q.ui, fin che lasso
Si Tuol seder ;
II triste amante
Pu6 legger Dante
Od ascoltar canti
DeUo pivier.
Poi se la gonna
Di gentn donna,
Won mica nonna,
Vien quk passar,
H corteggiano
Non pregh' in rano
Sarebbe strano
Di nou amar !
lutomo, parmi,
Scolpiti marmi
Vi son, per farmi
Stupir ancor' ;
Quei sembran' essere
Plutarch' e Cesare
Con Nebuchnezzere,
Venere ed Amor !
cosa unica.
Qui senza tunica !
Mentre oomunica
Con altro mar'
Leggiadra baroa ; —
Ma ci vuol' Petrarca
Per la gran carca
Di quel narrar.
Sar6 ben basso
Se oltre passo
Un certo sasso
D' alto valor ;
In su la faccia
Di chi lo baccia
Perenne traooia
Kiman talor :
Quel si distingue
Con usar lingue
Pien di lusinghe
Per ingannar :
Eamosa Pietra !
Mia umil' cetra
Or qui dipongo
Su quest' altar* 1
56
TATHBE PEOri'S EELIQTJES.
W^t &xobtS of 3^laxntia. Le Bois be Blaenatf.
I.
The groves of Blarney,
They look so charming,
Down by the purlings
Of sweet silent brooks,
All decked by posies
That spontaneous grow there,
Planted in order
In the rocky nooks.
'Tis there the daisy,
And the sweet carnation.
The blooming pink,
And the rose so &ir ;
Likewise the lily,
And the daffodilly —
All flowers that scent
The sweet open air.
II.
'Tis Lady Jeflers
Owns this plantation ;
Like Alexander,
Or like Helen fair.
There's no commander
In all the nation.
For regulation
Can with her compare.
Such walls siuTOund her,
That no nine-pounder
Could ever plunder
Her place of strength ;
But Oliver CromweU,
Her he did pommel.
And made a breach
In her battlement.
Clmrmcms hoeaget !
Vous me rimissez,
Que d'lmantages
Vous rStmissez !
Rochera sauvagea,
Faisihles ruisseaux,
Tendrea ramages
De gentila oiseaux :
Mans ee doux parage
Aimaile Stature
A fait 4talage
D'eternelle verdure ;
Et lesfleurs, a mesure
Qu'ellea croiasmt, a raiaon
Se la belle aaison
Font brtller lew parure.
IL
Ceat Madame de Jefferta,
Femme pleine d'ad^ease,
Qui aur cea leaux deaerta
S^gne en Jiere princeaae.
File exerce aea droita
Comme dame maitretae,
Dana cette foriereeee
Que la hautje vois.
Flue sage millefois
Qu' Sileni ou CUopatre,
Cromvel seulput I'aUAtre,
La mettant aux dboia^
Quand, allumant an miche.
Point ne tira au haaard,
Maia hien dana son rempart
Fit irreparable breche.
THE GEOTES OE BIAENET.
57
'H 'TX)j BXagnxn-
Ti/j BXopviag ai i\«t
$Epiffrai, Ka\Xi0u\\ai,
"Ojrow (Tiyj peotKTi
Ilqyai ;(/i9upi?ow(7ai'
'E/cowra yivvr\9tvTa
'OjlOIQ T£ <j>VTivdlVTa
Me<7(roi£ ev ayicoveo'irii/
Effr' aj/fle' jrerpwJtffffiv.
E«i £<rr' ay'Kairifia
VXvKv KOI epii0i)/ia,
lov r' EKfi 9a\ov te
BairtXiKov poSov re.
Kai Xetpiov re 0ve(,
Av^o^eXoc T( I3pvei,
Uavr' avBe/i' a KoK-gaiv
Ef ivStaig atjatv.
Blarneum Nemm,
I.
QuisquiB hio in Isetis
GaudeB errare viretis,
Turrigeras rupeB
Blarnea easa stupes !
Murmure dirm Cisco
Lymphanim peretrepit echo,
Quas veluti mutaB
Ire per arva putaB.
Multus in hoc luco
Bubet undique flos sine Aico,
Ac ibi formosaju
Cernis ubique rosam;
Suaviter hi flores
Misoent ut amabis odores j
Nee requiem demus,
Nam placet omne nemus !
Tavrije IE*EPE2SA
KaX)} KOI -jf^apiiaaa
'Qq "EXivri, its '■' "'"£
Tou kjijiCvoQ 6 Stag,
♦wTEine car' avaaar).
Ifpvy T* tv avaay
OvTig PpoTbtv yevoiTO
'Os avry av/ipfpoiro,
OtKOwo/ntU' yap olSe.
To(;(oc Toaoi Toiot Se
A.i)Triv aft0i(rr£^ovrat,
noXc/iiKi; we ppovTf)
Marriv viv /3aXX' we ijpwc
Kpo;i*weXXoe OXupripoQ
Ejrjpffe, St cnraaag
AicpojroXewj Trcpaaag.
II.
Poemina dux horum ,
Eegnat Jeferessa looorum,
Pace, rirago gravis,
Marteque pejor avis !
Africa npn atram
Componeret ei Cleopatram,
Nee Dido constares !
Non habet ilia pares.
Turre manens iatft
NuUA est violanda balistS, ;
Turris erat diris
Non penetranda riris ;
Cromwellus latum
Tamen iUlc fecit hiatum,
Et ludoa heros
Luoit in arce feros \
58
TATHEE PEOUT S EELIQUES.
III.
III.
There is a cave where
No dayKght enters,
But cats and badgers
Are for ever bred j
Aad mossed by nature
Makes it completer
Than a coach-and-six.
Or a downy-bed.
'Tis there the lake is
Well stored with fishes,
Ajid comely eels in
The verdant mud ;
Besides the leeches,
And groves of beeches.
Standing in order
To guard the flood.
n est aans ces vallonB
Uhe sombre caverne,
Ou jamais nous n'aUoni
Qu'armh d'une lanterne.
La mousse en cette grottt
Tapissant chaque motte
Vous offre des sofas ;
Et la se trouve unie
La douce symphonic
Des hiboux et des chats.
Tout pres on voit un lac,
Ou les poissons affluent,
Avec assez de sangsues
Pour en remplir tin sac ;
St sur ces bords cham/pitrei
On a plants des AStres.
IV.
IT.
There gravel walks are
For recreation,
And meditation
In sweet solitude.
'Tis there the lover
May hear the dove, or
The gentle plover.
In the afternoon ;
And if a lady
Would be so engaging
As for to walk in
Those shady groves,
'lis there the courtier
Might soon transport her
Into some fort, or
The " sweet rook-close.'"
Xei I'homme atraiilaire
Un sentier peut ehoisir
Pour y stiivir a loisir
Son rSve solitaire,
Quand une nymphe cruclle
L'a mis au desespoir.
Sans quHl puisse emouvoir
L'inexorable belle.
Quel douse reposje go&te,
Assis sur ce gazon !
JJu rossignol j' iooute
Le tendre diapason.
Ah ! dans cet antre noir
Puisse ma Lienors,
Celle que man coeur adore,
Venir furtive ausoirt
THE (JEOTES OE BLAENET.
59
Kai avrpov tar'' ckh Se
'Of' 4/Jep' ovTroT iiSc,
MeXeig Se Kai yaXai iv
AvTif) rpi^ovTai aieV
ErrfXttrrepov ^vov re
A/KptQ 7roi£i Ppvov ye
"Efyvirov 1) Biippoio
H Kotrijc lowXoJo"
Ix9viuiv Tt fiiaTri
AtflVtJ SK€L TTapsffrif
K'eyxeXets ^vovai
'Ev i\vi GoKovay
B^eXXai rs tiaiv aXKa
itjymv re aXffi) koX' h
^Tixt""' eKEi riTaKTai,
Aij poij Tre^uXaicroi.
III.
Hio tenebrosa cayema
Est, gattorumque tabema,
Talp^ habitata pigro,
Non sine fele nigro ;
MuBcus iners olli
Stravit loca tegmme molli
Lecticee, ut plumis
Mollior esset humus :
Inque lacu anguiUEe
Luteo nant gurgite mille ;
Q.uo nat, arnica luti,
Hostis hirudo outi :
&raude deeus pagi,
HuTii Btant margine fagi ;
Quodque tegunt ramo
Labile flumen amo !
Ai9'vaQ y' ex", '"'opeiaq
'Gveica TreptTraremff,
Tjvvoiav re 9uav
Kar eprifiiav yXvKeiav
E?e(rr» xai epaary
MeO' iairepav dKaary
Aicoveiv r) rpijpwv' >}
Se, fjiiKpe \iyvfj>tt)ve ]
Ei rig re Kai Stairoiva
Evet KaXq fiePoiVf
AXaaOai Tejieveaai
"LaitiQ ev (TKioeafftj
Tiff evyevrjg ytvoiTO
Avrriv oj avayoiTO
Elf TTVpyOV Tl IJ TTpOJ (TE,
Q XtBivov aveoc ye !
IV.
Cemis in has valles
Qu6 duount tramite calles,
Hanc mente in sedem
Per meditante pedem,
Quisquis ades, bellae
TransfixuB amore pueUae
Aut patrise carse
TempuB inane dare !
Dumque jaoes herbA,
Turtur flet voce superbi,
Arboreoque throno
Met philomela Bono :
Spelunca apparet
Qnam dux TrojanuB amaret,
In simili nido
Nam fait icta Dido.
60
FATHES PEOTTT'S EELIQUE3.
There are statues gracing
, Tliis noble place in —
All heathen gods,
And nymphs so fair ;
Bold Neptune, Caesar,
And Nebuchadnezzar,
All standing naked
In the open air !
There is a boat on
The lake to float on,
And lots of beauties
Which I can't entwine :
But were I a preacher.
Or a classic teacher,
In every feature
I'd make 'em shine t
V.
Dans oes classiques lima
Plus iCune statue brille,
Et seprisente aim yma
En parfait dishabille 1
La Neptune on discerne,
Et Jules Cesar^ en plomb,
Et Venus, et le trone
Dtt Oeniral Soloferne.
Veut-on voguer au large
Sur ce lac ? un esquif
Offre a i'amateur craintif
Les chances d'un naufrage.
Que nc'suis-je vn Hugo,
Ou quelqu' auteur en vogue.
En ce genre deglogue.
Je riaurais pas d''egaux.
VI.
There is a stone there,
That whoever kisses.
Oh ! he never misses
To grow eloquent.
'Tis he may clamber
To a lady's chamber.
Or become a member
Of parliament :
A clever spouter
He'U sure turn out, or
An out-and-outer,
"To be let alone,"
Don't hope to hinder him.
Or to bewUder him ;
Sure he's a pilgrim
From the Blarney stone !*
* End of Minikin's Translation of
the Groves of Blarney.
VI.
Tine pierre s'y rencontre,
Ettimable tresor,
Qui vaut son poids en or
Au guide qui la montre.
Qui baise ce monument,
Acquiert la parole
Qui doucement cajole; ,
II devient eloquent.
Au boudoir d'une dame
H sera bien regu,
Et mime a son insfu
Fera naitre une flamme.
Somme a bonnes fortunes,
A lui on pent sejier
Pour mystijier
La Chambre des Communes t
t Ici finist le Po^rae dit le Bois cle Bla;
naye, copig du Livre de Doomadaye, a. d,
loes
THE GEOTES 03? BLAENET.
61
Effrt Siov roTTOV re.
Tojv tBviKmv deiav Tt,
Twv Af)va3tov KaXfiiV Tt'
TloaeiSiov ijffs Kaiaap
T' i^ou NajSExw^i^nffop"
Ev aiSpif diravTag
Ear' ijetv yv^vovg aravrag.
Ev Xijivy ttrri irXoioj',
Et ns TrXefiv dtXoi av
*Kat KaXa offff' fyw ffoi
Ou Swan' eKTViruiaaf
AXX' El y' f 17)V Xoyirrrijc,
H liSaaKa\oe iroipiaTtiQ,
Tot' sKox^^Tar' av (70i
Aci$ai/i( TO dirav aoi.
V.
Plumbea signa De<ka
N emus ornant, grande trophseum !
Stas ibi, Bacohe teres !
Nee sine fruge Ceres,
Neptxmique vago
De flumine surgit imago ;
Julius hlo Csesar
Stat, Nabechud que Nezar !
Navicula iusonti
Dat cuique pericula ponti,
Si quis oymba h4e cum
Vult super ire lacum.
Carmini hmc ter sum
Conatus hlo addere versum :
Pauper at ingenio.
Plus nihil iuvenio !
Ek£i Xi0o»' r' eipriauQ,
KvTOv fiiv ii ^iXtjixeiq
, 'Evlaiiiov TO ipiXti/ia'
Ft/Tiap yap Trapaxprma
rtvijfffat av Snvog,
rvvai^i t' epaTuvog,
SE/Mvorar^t te XoXojj'
Ev PovXy Ttav \itT' aWu>v
Kat tv Taig ayopaiai
" KadoXiKaif" fioaiai
Lrinog aoi 'KoXovOtjati,
Kai xEipaj <Toi KpoTtiati
*Qg avSpt Ti^ fiiyiOTt^
Atifioyopiav T apiOTif
Q bSog ovpavovdt
Am BXapviKov \i0ov y y.*
* TeXor Tnr 'Y\»i? BXavpiKtj?. Ex Co-
dice Vatic, vetustiss, incert. eri circa
u. Sal. CM,
TT.
Portunatam autem
Premuerunt osoula cantem
(Fingere ditai conor
Debittis huio sic honor) :
Quam bene tu fingis
Qui sasi oraoula lingis,
Eloquioque sapis
Quod dedit ille lapis !
GratuB homo beUis
!Pit unotis meUe labellis,
Qratus erit populo
Osoula dans soopulo j
Pit Bubit6 orator,
Caudaque sequente senator,
Seandere vis sethram ?
Hano venerare petram If
t Explicit hie Carmen de Netnore B!ai>-
nensi. Ex Codice No. 464 in Bibllattiec&
Bi*erae apud Mediolanum.
62 EATHEE PEOTJT'S EEHQTJES.
leir A1J be le^nf beAijAjr A1 ajc reo
Corii)-vil lejc] cuiD AfPAccAjr 6' r-*o*l'-
Ca cAirlSAft 'pA cioiflcioll, ijAleopTC pleutiiA,
a bAiiAiD ceAflA s'AnsMi) i)A TsnloT ;
Her. Oliberi Cponjpll; »'F''i3 5° FA^ f,
21T fl') beAfiijA lijoit joijA (r&lcA ni).»
No. III.
TATHEE PEOrT'S CAEOUSAL.
" He spread his vegetable store,
And gaily pressed and smiled ;
And, skilled in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguiled."
Q-OLDSMITH.
Bei'Oee we resume the thread (or yarn) of Prank Cress-
well's narrative concerning the memorable occurrences
which took place at Blarney, on the remarkable occasion of
Sir "Walter Scott's visit to " the groves," we feel it impera-
tive on us to set ourselves right with an illustrious corre-
spondent, relative to a most important particular. We
have received, through that useful medium of the inter-
change of human thought, " the twopenny post," a letter
which we think of the utmost consequence, inasmuch as it
goes to impeach the veracity, not of Father Prout {patrem
quis dicere falsum a/udeat ?), but of the young and somewhat
facetious barrister who has been the volunteer chronicler of
his life and conversations.
For the better understanding of the thing, as it is likely
to bejcome a quastio vexata in other quarters, we may he
allowed to bring to recollection that, in enumerating the
* Fragment of a Celtic MS., from the Zing's Library, Copenhagen.
THE WATEBGEASSniLL CAEOUSAL. 63
many emiiient men who had kissed the Blarney stone during
Ptout's residence in the parish — an experience extending
itself over a period of nearly half a century — Doctor D.
Lardner was triumphantly mentioned by the benevolent and
simple-minded incumbent of "Watergrasshill, as a proud and
incontestable instance of the virtue and efficacy of the talis-
man, applied to the most ordinary materials with the most
miraculous result. Tnstead of feeling a lingering remnant
of gratitude towards the old parent-block for such super-
natural interposition on his behalf, and looking back to that
"kiss" with fond and filial recollection — instead of allowing
"the stone" to occupy the greenest spot in the wUderness
of his memory — "the stone" that first sharpened his intel-
lect, and on which ought to be inscribed the line of Horace,
" Fungor vice cotis, aeutum
Eeddere quse valeat ferrum, exsors ipsa secandi" —
instead of this praiseworthy expression of tributary acknow-
ledgment, the Doctor writes to us denying aU obligation in
the quarter alluded to, and contradicting most flatly the
"soft impeachment" of having kissed the stone at aU. His
note is couched in such peevish terms, and conceived in such
fretful mood, that we protest we do not recognise the tame
and usually uneicited tracings of his gentle pen ; but rather
suspect he has been induced, by some medical wag, to use a
quill plucked from the membranous iategument of that cele-
brated " man-porcupine " who has of late exhibited his hir-
Buteness at the Middlesex hospital.
"London University, May ith.
, "SlE,
" I owe it to the great cause of ' Useful Kiow-
l]sdge,' to which I have dedicated my past labours, to rebut
temperately, yet firmly, the assertion reported to have been
made by the late Eev. Mr. Front (for whom I had a high
legard), in conversing with the late Sir "Walter Scott on the
occasion alluded to in your ephemeral work ; particularly as
I find the statement re-asserted by that widely-circulated
journal the Morning Herald of yesterday's date. Were
either the reverend clergyman or the distinguished baronet
now living, I would appeal to their candour, and so shame
64 FATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQ0ES.
the iiiTentor of that tale. But as both are withdrawn by
death from the literary world, I call on yon, sir, to insert in
your next Number this positive denial on my part of having
ever kissed that stone ; the supposed properties of which, I
am ready to prove, do not bear the test of chymical analysis.
I do recollect having been solicited by the present Lord
Chancellor of England (and also of the London University),
whom I am proud to call my friend (though you have given
him the sobriquet of Bridlegoose, with your accustomed want
of deference for great names), to join him, when, many years
ago,.he privately embarked on board a "Westmoreland colHer
to perform his devotions at Blarney. That circumstance is
of old date : it was about the year that, Paris was taken by
the allies, and certainly previous to the Queen's trial. But
I did not accompany the then simple Harry Brougham, con-
tent with what nature had done for me in that particular
department.
" Tou wUl please insert this disavowal from,
" SlE,
" Tour occasional reader,
"DiONYsirs Laednee, D.D,
" P.S. — If you neglect me, I shall take care to state my
own case in the Cyclopaedia. I'll prove that the block at
Blarney is an ' AeroUthe,' and that your statement as to its
Phoenician origin is imsupported by historical evidence.
Eecollect, you have thrown the first stone."
Now, after considering these things, and much pondering
on the Doctor's letter, it seemed advisable to refer the
matter to our reporter, Frank Cresswell aforesaid, who has
given us perfect satisfaction. By him our attention was
called, first, to the singular bashfulness of the learned man,
in curtailing from his signature the usual appendages that
shed such lustre o'er his name. He lies before us in this
epistle a simple D.D., whereas he certainly is entitled to
write himself P.E.S., M.E.I.A., P.E.A.S., P.L.S., P.Z.S.,
P.C.P.S., &c. Thus, in his letter, " we saw him," to borrow
an illustration from the beautiful episode of James Thomson,
" We saw him charming ; but we saw not half —
The rest his downcast modesty concealed."
THE WATEEGEASSHILL CAKOTTSAl. 65
Next as to dates : how redolent of my Uncle Toby — ■
"about the year Dendermonde was taken by the allies."
The reminiscence was probably one of which he was uncon-
scious, and we therefore shall not call him a plagiary ; but
how slily, how diabolically does he seek to shift the onus
and gravamen of the whole business on the rickety shoulders
of his learned friend Bridlegoose ! This' will not do, O
sage Thaumaturffus ! By implicating " Bridoison," you shall
not extricate yourself — " et vituld tu dignus, et hie •" and
Prank Cresswell has let us into a secret. Know then, aU
men, that among these never-too-anxiously-to-be-looked-out-
for " Prout Papers," there is a positive record of the initia-
tion both of Henry Brougham and Patrick Lardner to the
dSreemasonry of the Blarney stone ; and, more important
still — (0, most rare document !) — there is to be found amid
the posthumous treasures of Pather Prout the original pro-
ject of a University at Blarney, to be then and there founded
by the united efforts of Lardner, Dan 0' ConneU, and Tom
Steele; and of which the Doctor's " aebolithe " was to
have been the corner-stone.*
"We therefore rely on the forthcoming Prout Papers for a
confirmation of all we have said ; and here do we cast down
the glove of defiance to the champion of Stinkomalee, even
though he come forth armed to the teeth in a panoply, not,
of course, forged on the classic anvil of the Cyclops, however
laboriously hammered in the clumsy arsenal of his own
" Cyclopsedia."
* This proieoted •university has since assumed another shape, and a
house in Steven's Green, Dublin, ouoe the residence of " SmcA WhaUey,'
or "Jerusalem WhaUey," (he having walked there and back for a wagerj,
has been bought by Dr. CuUen, to whom Mr. DiaraeU will grant a
charter to put down the " Queen's coUeges." The Blarney university
woiild have cultivated fun and the genial development of nation^
aouteness, but the Cullen affair can ha,ve naught in common with
Blarney, save being
" A cave where no daylight enters,
But cats and badgers are for ever bred!"
a foul nest of discord, rancour, hopeless gloom, and Dens' theology, or
as the Italiao version, page 55, has it,
" In questa grotta
Mai interrotta
Yi e fiera lotta, fra gatti stran ! ^
66 FATHEE PEOUT'S EEIilQUBS.
"We know there is amotlier world, where every man will
get his due according to his deserts ; but if there' be a limbus
patrum, or literary purgatory, where the effrontery and ingra-
titude of folks ostensibly belonging to the republic of letters
are to be visited with condign retribution, we think we behold
in that future middle state of purification (which, from our
friend's real name, we shall caU FatricKs Purgatory), Pat
Lardner roUing the Blarney stone, h, la Sisyphus, up the hill
of Science.
Ka/ fitiv "Sidupov eiaiidov x^arsp' aXys' sp^oi/ra
AuTig i'Xsira teSovSs xuXivSito AAA2 ANAIAH2 !
And now we return to the progress of events on Water-
grasshiU, and to matters more congenial to the taste of our
Eegina.
OLIVEE TOEKE.
Regent Street, \st June, 1835.
Fumival't Inn, May 14.
Accept, 0 Queen! my compliments congratulatory on
the unanimous and most rapturous welcome with which the
whole literary world hath met, on its first entrance into
life, that wonderful and more than Siamese bantling your
" Polyglot edition" of the " Groves of Blarney." Of course,
various are the conjectures of the gossips in Paternoster
Eow as to the real paternity of that " most delicate mon-
ster ;" and some have the unwarrantable hardihood to hint
that, like the poetry of Sternhold and Hopkins, your incom-
parable lyric must be referred to a joint-stock sort of pa-
rentage : but, entre nous, how stupid and malignant are all
such insinuations ! How little do such simpletons suspect
or know of the real source from which hath emanated that
rare combination of the Teian lyre and the Tipperary bag-
pipe— of the Ionian dialect blending harmoniously with the
Cork brogue ; an Irish potatoe seasoned with Attic salt, and
the humours of Donnybrook wed to the glories of Marathon !
Verily, since the days of the great Complutensian Polyglot
(by the compilation of which the illustrious Cardinal Xi-
menes so endeared himself to the bibliomaniacal world), since
the appearance of that stiU grander effort of the " Claren-
don" at Oxford, the "Tetrapla," originally compiled by the
THE WATBEGEASSHILIi CAEOUSAL. 67
most laborious and eccentric father of the Churcli, Origen
of Alexandria, nothing has issued from the press in a com-
pleter form than your improved quadruple version of the
" Groves of Blarney." The celebrated proverb, lucus d. non
lueendo, so often quoted with malicious meaning and for
invidious purposes, is no longer applicable to your " Groves :"
this quaint conceit has lost its sting, and, to speak in Gully's
phraseology, you have taken the shine out of it. What a
halo of glory, what a flood of lustre, will henceforth spread
itself over that romantic " plantation !" How oft shall its
echoes resound with the voice of song, Greek, Prench, or'
Latin,' according to the taste or birthplace of its European
visitors ; all charmed with its shady bowers, and enraptured
with its dulcet melody ! From the dusty purlieus of High
Holbom, where I pine in a foetid atmosphere, my spirit
soars afar to that enchanting scenery, wafted on the wings
of poesy, and transported with the ecstacy of Elysium — ■
" Videor pios
Errare per lucoa, amoenae
Quos et aquffi subeunt efc aurae !"
Mine may be an illusion, a hallucination, an "amabilis in-
sania," if you will ; but meantime, to find some solace in
my exile from the spot itself, I cannot avoid poring, with
more than antiquarian relish, over the different texts placed
by you in such tasteful juxtaposition, anon comparing and
collatiag each particular version with alternate gusto. —
" Amant altema CamcenEe."
How pure and pellucid the flow of harmony ! how reaplbn-
dent the well-grouped images, shining, as it were, in a sort
of milky way, or poetic galaxy, through your glorious co-
lumns ; to vhich I cannot do better than apply a line of
St. Gregory (the accomplished Greek father) of Nazian-
zene —
'H eofmz iTTiyii ev jSilSXioigi guil'
A great minister is said to have envied his forei^ secretary
the ineffable pleasure of reading " Don Quixote" in the
original Spanish, and it would, no doubt, be a rare sight to.
get a peep at Lord Palmerston's-Erench notes to Talleyrand.;;
68 FATHEE PKOTJt'S EELIQUES.
but how I pity the sorry wight who hasn't learnt Greek ?
What can he know of the recondite meaning of certain
passages in the " Groves ?" He is incapacitated from en-
joying the full drift of the ode, and must only take it di-
luted, or Velluti-ed, in the common English version. N6runt
fideles, as Tom Moore says.
Por my part, I would as soon see such a periwig-pated
fellow reading your last Number, and fancying himself ca-
pable of understanding the full scope of the poet, as to be-
hold a Greenwich pensioner with a wooden leg trying to
run a race with Atalanta for her golden apple, or a fellow
with a modicum quid of legal knowledge affecting to sit and
look big under a chancellor's peruke, Eke Bridlegoose on the
woolsack. In verity, gentlemen of the lower house ought
to supplicate Sir Daniel Sandford, of Glasgow, to give
them a few lectures on Greek, for the better inteUigenee of
the real Blarney style ; and I doubt not that every member
will join in the request, except, perhaps, Joe Hume, who
would naturally oppose any attempt to throw light on
Greek matters, for reasons too tedious to mention. Verb,
sap.
To have collected in his youthful rambles on the conti-
nent, and to have diligently copied in the several libraries
abroad, these imperishable versions of an immortal song
was the pride and consolation of !Father Prout's old age,
and still, by one of those singular aberrations of mind in-
cident to all great men, he could never be prevailed on to
give further publicity to the result of his labours ; thus
sitting down to the banquet of literature with the egotistic
feeling of a churl. He would never listen to the many
offers from interested publishers, who sought for the prize
with eager competition ; but kept the song in manuscript
on detached leaves, despite of the positive injunction of tho
sibyl in the .^neid —
" Non foliis tu carmina manda,
Ne correpta volent rapidis ludibria ventis !"
I know full well to what serious imputations I make myself
liable, when I candidly admit that I did not come by the
treasure lawfully myself ; having, as I boldly stated in the
last Number of Eeguta, filched the precious papers, disjeeti
THE ■VTATEEGBASSHILIi CAEOTJSAI,. 69
membra poetts, wien the table was being cleared by Prout'8
servant maid for the subsequent repast. But there are
certain " pious frauds" of which none need be ashamed in
the interests of science : and when a great medal-collector,
(of whom " Tom England" will tell you the particulars),
being, on his homeward voyage from Egypt, hotly pursued
by the Algerines, swallowed the golden series of the Ptole-
mies, who ever thought of blaming Mr. Dufour, as he had
purchased in their human envelope these recondite coins,
for having applied purgatives and emetics, and every pos-
sible stratagem, to come at the deposit of glory ?
But to describe " the repast" has now become my solemn
duty — a task imposed on me by you, O Queen ! to whom
nothing relating to Sir "Walter Scott, or to Father Prout
appears to be uninteresting. In that I agree with you, for
nothing to my mind comes recommended so powerfully as
what hath appertained to these two great ornaments of
"humanity ;" which term I must be understood to use in its
double sense, as relating to mankind in general, and in par-
ticular to the litei-m Aumaniores, of which you and I are rap-
turously fond, as Terence was before we were born, according
to the hackneyed line —
" Homo sum : humani nihil it me alienum puto !"
That banquet was in sooth no ordinary jollification, no
mere bout of sensuality, but a philosophic and rational com-
mingling of mind, with a pleasant and succulent addition of
matter — a blending of soul and substance, typified by the
union of Cupid and Psyche — a compound of strange ingre-
dients, in which a large infusion of what are called (in a
very Irish-looking phrase) " animal spirits" coalesced with
an stbundance of distilled ambrosia ; not without much eru-
dite observation, and the interlude of jovial song ; wit con-
tending for supremacy with learning, and folly asserting her
occasional predominance like the tints of the rainbow in
their tout ensemble, or like the smile and the tear in Erin's
left eye, when that fascinating creature has taken " a drop"
of her own mountain dew. But though there were lots of
fiin at Prout's table at aU times, which the lack of provi-
sions never could interfere with one w ay or another, I have
fapecial reason for recording in full the particulars of this
70 TATHEE PBOTIT's EELIQUES.
carousal, having learned with indignation that, since the ap^
pearance of the Father's "Apology for Lent," calumny has
been busy with his character, and attributed his taste for
meagre diet, to a sordid principle of economy. No ! Prout
was not a penurious wretch ! And since it has been indus-
triously circulated in the club-houses at the west-end, that
he never gave a dinner in his life, by the statement of one
stubborn fact I must silence for ever that " whisper of a
faction."
From the first moment of delight, when the perusal of
George Knapp's letter, (dated July 25, 1825) had apprised
Prout of the visit intended by Sir Walter Scott to the
Blarney stone, he had predetermined that the Great Un-
known should partake of sacerdotal hospitality. I recollect
well on that evening (for you are aware I was then on a visit
to my aunt at "WatergrasshiU, and, as luck would have it,
happened to be in the priest's parlour when the news came
by express) how often he was heard to mutter to himself,
as if resolving the mighty project of a " let out," in that
beautiful exclamation borrowed from his favourite Milton —
" What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attic taste with -wiae ?"
I then foresaw that there really would be " a dinner" and
sure enough there was no mistake, for an entertainment en-
sued, such as the refinement of a scholar and the tact of a
well-informed and observant traveller naturally and unafiieet-
edly produced, with the simple but not less acceptable ma-
terials which circumstances allowed of and a style as far
removed froili the selfishness of the anchorite as the extra-
vagance of the glutton.
Prout had seen much of mankind ; and in his deportment
through life shewed that he was weU versed in all those
varied arts of easy, but still gradual acquirement, which sin-
gularly embellish the intercourse of society : these were the
results of his excellent continental education —
TloXXciiv d' avS^WTTiiiv idov aSria, xai \iqov lyvu-
But at the head of his own festive board he particularly
shone ; for though in hia ministerial functions, he was ex-
THE ■WATEEGEASSHIH CAEOfSAIi. 71
emplary and admirable, ever meek and unaffected at the
altar of his rustic chapel, where
> " His looks adorned the venerable place,"
still, surrounded by a few choice friends, the calibre of
whose genius was in unison with his own, with a bottle of
his choice old claret before him, he was truly a paragon. I
say claret. ; for when, in his youthful career of early travel,
he had sojourned at Bourdeaux in 1776, he had formed an
acquaintanceship with the then representatives of the still
flourishing house of Maccarthy and Co. ; and if the prayers
of the old priest are of any avail, that firm will long pros-
per in the splendid capital of Gascony. This long -remem-
bered acquaintanceship was periodically refreshed by many
a quarter cask of excellent medoe, which found its way (no
matter how) up the rugged by-roads of "WatergrasshUl to
the sacerdotal cellar. /
Nor was the barren upland, of which he was the pastor
(and which will one day be as celebrated for having been
his residence as it is now for water-cresses), so totally
estranged from the wickedness of the world, and so exalted
above the common level of Irish highlands, that no whisky
was to be found there ; for though Prout never openly
countenanced, he still tolerated Davy Draddy's public-house
at the sign of the " Mallow Cavalry." But there is a spirit,
(an evil one), which pays no duty to the King, under pre-
tence of having paid it to her majesty the Queen (God bless
her!) — a spirit which would even tempt you, 0 Eegina!
to forsake the even tenour of your ways — a spirit which
Pather Prout could never effectually chain down in the Eed
Sea, where every foul demon ought to lie in durance until
the vials of wrath are finally poured out on this sinful world
— that spirit, endowed with a smoky fragrance, as if to
indicate its caliginous origin — not a drop of it would he give
Sir Walter. He would have wished, such was his anxiety
to protect the morals of his parishioners from the baneful
effects of private distillation, that what is called technically
" mountain-dew" were never heard of in the district ; and
that in this respect Watergrasshill had resembled the moun-
tain of Gilboa, in the country of the Philistines.
But of legitimate and excellent malt whisky he kept a
72 FATHEE PEOITT'S EBLIQUES.
constant supply, througL. the friendship of Joe Hayes, a
capital feUow, who presides, with great credit to himself,
and to his native city, over the spiritual concerns of the
GUin DistiUery. Through his intelligent superintendence,
he can boast of maintaining an unextinguishable furnace
and a worm that never dies ; and O ! may he in the next
life, through Prout's good prayers, escape both one and the
other. This whisky, the pious offering of Joe Hayes to his
confessor, Father Prout, was carefully removed out of
harm's way ; and even I myself was considerably puzzled
to find out where the good divine had the habit of conceal-
ing it, until I got the secret out of Margaret, his servant-
maid, who, being a 'cute girl, had suggested the hiding-place
herself. I don't know whether you recollect my description,
in your AprD. Number, of the learned Father's bookcase
and the folio volumes of stone-flag inscribed " Coenehi a
Lapide Opera qu<e ext. omn. :" weU, behind them lay hidden
the whisky in a pair of jars —
For buxom Maggy, careful soul,
Had two stone bottles found,
To hold the liquor that Prout loved, ,
And kept it safe and sound.
Orders had been given to this same Margaret to kill a
turkey, in the first impulse of the good old man's mind,
" on hospitable thoughts intent :" but, alas ! when the fowl
had been slain, in accordance with his hasty injunctions, he
bethought himself of the melancholy fact, that, the morrow
being Friday, fish diet was imperative, and that the death-
warrant of the turkey had been a most premature and ill-
considered act of precipitancy. The corpus delicti was
therefore hung up in the kitchen, to furnish forth the
Sunday's dinner next ensuing, and his thoughts of necessity
ran into a piscatory channel. He had been angling all day,
and happily with considerable success ; so that, what with
a large eel he had hooked out of the lake at Blarney, and
two or three dozen of capital trout from the stream, he
might emulate the exploit of that old Calabrian farmer, who
entertained Yirgil on the produce of his hives :
" Serilque reverteus
Nocte domum, dapibus meusas ouerabat inemptis."
THE WATEEGBASSHILL CAROTTSAIi. 73
But when Prout did the thing, he did it respectably : this
■was no ordiaary occasion — " pot luck" would not do here.
And though he bitterly deplored the untoward coincidence
of the fast-day on the arrival of Sir "Walter, and Was heard
to mutter somethiag from Horace very like an imprecation,
viz. " Ille et nefasto te posuit die, quicumque," &c. &c. ; still
it would iU become the author of an " Apology for Lent" to
despair of getting up a good fish dinner.
In this emergency he summoned Terry Callaghan, a genius
infinitely superior even to the man-of-aU-work at Bavens-
worth Castle, the never-to-be-forgotten Caleb Balderstone.
Terry Callaghan (of whom we suspect we shall have, on
many a future occasion, much to recount, ere the star of
Pather Prout shall eclipse itselfiu the firmament of Eegika),
Terry Callaghan is a character weU. known in the Arcadian
neighbourhood of WatergrasshiU, the life and soul of the
village itself, where he oflciates to this day as " pound-
keeper," " grave-digger," " notary public," and " parish
piper." In addition to these situations of trust and emolu-
ment, he occasionally stands as deputy at the turnpike on
the mail-coach road, where he was last seen with a short
pipe in his mouth, and a huge black crape round his " cau-
been," being iu mourniag for the subject of these memoirs.
He also is employed on Sundays at the chapel-door to collect
the coppers of the faithful, and, like the dragon of the
Hesperides, keeps watch over the " box " with untameable
fierceness, never having allowed a rap to be subtracted for
the O'Connell tribute, or any other humbug, to the great
pecuniary detriment of the Derrynane dynasty. In the
palace at Iveragh, where a geographical chart is displayed
on the wail, shewing at a glance the topography of the
" rint," and exhibiting aU those districts, from Dan to Beer-
sheba, where the copper-mines are most productive, the
parish of Watergrasshill is marked " all barren ;" Terry very
properly considering that, if there was any surplus in. the
poor-box, it could be better placed, without going out of the
precincts of that wild and impoverished tract, in the palm of
squalid misery, than in the all-absorbing Charybdis, the
breeches-pocket of our glorious Dan.
Such was the " Mercury new-lighted on a heaven-kissing
hiJl," to whom Prout delivered hie provisional orders for the
74 FATHEB PEODt's EELIQtTBS.
market of Cork ; and early, with a hamper on his back, at
the dawn of that important day which settled into so glori-
ous an evening of fun and conviviality, Terry set off to lay
the foundation of the whole affair at the fish-staU kept by
that celebrated iarrie de la Mile, the widow Desmond. Pur-
suant to directions, he bought a turbot, two lobsters, a sal-
mon, and a hake, with a hundred of Cork-harbour oysters ;
and considering, prudently, that a corps de reserve might be
wanted in the course of the repast, he added to the afore-
said matters, which Prout had himself specified, a hors
d'oeuvre of his own selection, viz. a keg of cod-sounds ; he
having observed that on aU state occasions, when Prout
entertained his bishop, he had always, to suit his lordship's
taste, a plat ohligi of cod-sounds, "by particular desire."
At the same time he was commissioned to deliver sundry
notes. of invitation to certain choice spirits, who try to keep
in wholesome agitation, by the buoyancy of their wit and
hilarity, the otherwise stagnant pond of Corkonian society ;
citizens of varied humour and diversified accomplishments,
but of whom the highest praise and the most comprehensive
eulogy cannot convey more to the Britisli public than the
simple intimation of their having been " the friends of Pather
Prout :" for while Job's Arabian " friends " will be remem-
bered only as objects of abhorrence, Prout's associates wUl
be cherished by the latest posterity. These were, Jack Bel-
lew, Dan Corbet, Dick Dowden, Bob Olden, and Priar
O'Meara.
Among these illustrious names, to be henceforth embalmed
in the choicest perfume of classic recollection, you wiU. find
on inquiry, O Queen ! men of all parties and religious per-
suasions, men of every way of thinking in politics and po-
lemics, but who merged all their individual feelings in the
broad expanse of one common phHanthropy ; for at Prout's
table the serene horizon of the festive board was never
clouded by the suffusion of controversy's gloomy vapours,
or the mephitic feuds of party condition. And, O most
peace-loving Eegista ! should it ever suit your fancy to go
on a trip to Ireland, be on your guard against the foul and
troublesome nuisance of Speech-makers and political oracles,
of whatever class, who infest that otherwise happy island :
betake thyself to the hospitable home of Dan Corbet, or
THE "VrATEEGEASSHILL CAEOrSAL. 75
Bome such good and rational circle of Irish society, where
never will a single drop of acrimony be found to mingle in
the disembosomings of feehug and the perennial flow of
soul —
" Sic tibi ciim fluotus prseterlabere SioauOB,
Doris amara suam non mtermisceat imdaui !"
But, in describing Front's guests, rant and precedency
belong of right to that great modern ruler of mankind, "the
Press ;" and therefore do we first apply ourselTes to the de-
lineation of the merits of Jack Bellew, its significant repre-
sentative— he being the wondrous editor of that most accom-
plished newspaper, the " Cork Chronicle."
Jack MontesquieuBenew'((fMa'rt honoris camd nomifw) was^
I say was, for, alas ! he too is no more : Front's death was too
much for him 'twas a blow from which he never recovered ;
and since then he was visibly so heart-broken at the loss
o£ his friend, that he did nothing but droop, and soon
died of what the doctor said was a decline ;) — Jack was the
very image of his own " Chronicle," and, vice versd, the
" Chronicle " was the faithful mirror (siJiwXov, or alter ego) of
Jack : both One and the other were tb6 queerest concerns
in the south of Ireland. The post of editor to a country
newspaper is one, generally speaking, attended with sundry
troubles and tribulations ; for even the simple department
of " deaths, births, and marriages," would require a host of
talent and a superhuman tact to satisfy the vanity of the
subscribers, without making them ridiculous to their next
neighbours. Wow Bellew didn't care a jot who came into
the world or who left it ; and thus he made no enemies by
a too niggardly panegyric of their kindred and deceased
relations. There was an exception, however, in favour of an
old subscriber to the " paper," whose death was usually
' How the surname of the illustrious author of the Esprit de Lois,
came to be used by the Bellews in Ireland! has puzzled the Heralds'
College. Indeed, many other Irish names offer a wide field for genea-
logical inquiry : e. g. Sir Hercules Langhrish, Casar Otway, Eneas Mac-
DonneU, Hannibal Hunkett, Ebenezer Jacob, Jonah Barringtou (this
last looks very like a whale). That the Bellews dealt largely in spirits,
appears to be capable of proof: at any rate, there was never any pro-
pensity for V esprit des lois, whatever might be the penchant for unlawful
spirit, at the family mansion Knock an isqueiu — Jngliob Mount Whisky,
Gallic^ Montesquieu.
76 FATHEE PEOn'S EBLIQUES.
commemorated by a rim of mourning at the edges of the
" Chronicle :" and it was particularly when the subscription
had not been paid (which, indeed, was generally the case)
that the emblems of sorrow were conspicuous — so much so,
that you could easily guess at the amount of the arrears
actually due, from the proportionate breadth of the black
border, which in some instances was prodigious. But Jack's
attention was principally turned to the affairs of the Conti-
nent, and he kept an eye on Eussia, an eye of vigilant obser-
vation, which considerably annoyed the czar. In vain did
Pozzo di Borgo endeavour to silence, or purchase, or intimi-
date Bellew ; he was to the last an uncompromising op-
ponent of the " miscreant of the North." The opening of the
trade to China was a favourite measure with our editor ; for
he often complained of the bad tea sold at the sign of the
"Elephant," on the Parade. He took part with Don Pedro
against the Serene Infanta Don Miguel ; but that was attri-
buted to a sort of Platonic he felt for the fascinating Donna
Maria da Gloria. As to the great question of repale, he was
too sharp not to see the fuU absurdity of that brazen im-
posture. He endeavoured, however, to suggest a "juste mil-
lieu," a "medium terminus," between the politicians of the
Chamber of Commerce and the common-sense portion of the
Cork community; and his plan was, — to hold an imperial parlia-
ment for the three kingdoms on the Isle of Man ! But he failed in
procuring the adoption of his conciliatory sentiments. Most
Irish provincial papers keep a London "private corres-
pondent " — some poor devil, who writes from a blind alley
in St. Giles's, with the most graphic minuteness, and a truly
laughable hatred of mystery, aU about matters occurring at
the cabinet meetings of Downing Street, or in the most im-
penetrable circles of diplomacy. Jack despised such fudge,
became his own " London private correspondent," and ad-
dressed to himself long communications dated from "White-
hall. The most useful intelligence was generally found in
this epistolary form of soliloquy. But in the " fashionable
world," and " News from the beaumonde," the " Chronicle"
was unrivalled. The latest and most rechereM modes, the
newest Parisian fashions, were carefully described ; not-
withstanding which. Jack himself, like Diogenes or Sir
Charles "Wetherell, went about in a most ragged habiliment.
THE "WATBEGEASSHILIi CAEOXTSAI;. 77
To speak with Shakspeare, though not well dressed himself-
he was the cause of dress in others. His finances, alas'
were always miserably low ; no fitting retribution was ever
the re^sult of his literary labours ; and of him might be
said wliat we read in a splendid fragment of Petronius
Arbiter, — •
" Sola pruinosis liorret facundia pannis,
Atque inopi lingutt disertaa invocat artes !"
Such was BeUew ; and next to him of political importance
in public estimation was the celebrated Dick Dowden, the
great iaventor of the " pyroligneous acid for curing bacon."
He was at one time the deservedly popular librarian of the
Eoyal Cork Institution ; but siace then he has risen to
eminence as the greatest soda-water manufacturer in the
south of Ireland, and has been unanimously chosen by the
sober and reflecting portion of his fellow-citizens to be the
perpetual president of the " Cork Temperance Society." He
is a Presbyterian — but I believe I have already said he was
concerned in vinegar.* He is a great admirer of Dr. Bow-
ring, and of the Eajah Rammohun Eoy ; and some think
him incliaed to favour the new Utilitarian philosophy. But
why do I spend my time in depicting a man so well known
as Dick Dowden ? Who has not heard of Dick Dowden ?
I pity the wretch to whom his name and merits are un-
known ; for he argues himself a dunce that knows not Dow-
den, and deserves the anathema pronounced by Groldsmith
against his enemies, —
" To eat mutton cold, and out blocts with a razor !"
Talking of razors, the transition to our third guest, Bob
Olden is most smooth and natural — Olden, the great inven-
tor of the wonderful shaving-lather, caUed by the Greeks Eu-
KEiBOGENEioif (Euxiipoj'ivmv) ! — Olden, the reproducer of an
Athenian cosmetic, and the grand discoverer of the patent
" Trotter- oU," for the growth of the human hair; a citizen
of infinite worth and practical usefulness ; a high church-
man eke was he, and a Tory ; but his " conservative" excel-
lence was chiefly applicable to the epidermis of the chin,
which he effectually preserved by the incomparable lather of
* " A Quaker, sly ; a Presbyterian, sour." — Popb
78 TATHEE PBOTTT'S EELIQrES.
his Euxsi^oyemiov ; an invention that would, to use the words
of a Cork poet,
" Bid even a Jew bid adieu to his beard."
But Dan Corbet, the third guest, was a real trump, the
very quintessence of fun and frolic, and of all Prout's friends
the one of whom he was most particularly proud. He is the
principal dentist of the Munster district — a province where
a tooth-ache is much rarer, unfortunately for dentists, than a
broken head or a black eye. In Corbet, the kindliest of human
beings, and sincerest of Corkonians, the buttermilk of human
friendliness was ever found in plentiful exuberance ; while
the loud laugh and the jocund song bespoke the candour of his
soul. Never was a professor of odontology less pedaaitic or
less given to quackery. His ante-chamber was always full of
patients, awaiting his presence with pleasurable anticipation
and some were known to feign a tooth^ach©, in order to
have a pleasant interview with the dentist. When he made
Ms appearance in his morning gown before the crowd of
afflicted visitors, a general titter of cheerfulness enlivened the
visages of the sufferers ; and I can only compare the effect
produced by his presence to the welcome of Scarron on the
banks of the Styx, when that man of wondrous hilarity
went down to the region of the ghosts as a dispeUer of
sorrow :
" Solvuntur risu moestissima turba silentum,
Ciim Tenit ad Stygias Searro facetus aquas."
I have only one thing to say against Corbet. At his hos-
pitable table, where, without extravagance, every good dish
is to be found, a dessert generally follows remarkable for the
quantity and iron-hardness of the walnuts, whUe not a nut-
cracker can be had for love or money from any of the ser-
vants. Now this is too bad : for, you must know, that next
morning most of the previous guests reappear in the charac-
ter of patients ; and the nuts (like the dragon-teeth sown
in a field by Cadmus) produce a harvest of lucrative visitors
to the cabinet of the professor. Ought not this system to
be abolished, O Queen ! and is it any justification or pallia-
tion of such an enormity to know that the bane and anti-
dote are both before one S When I spoke of it to Corbet,
THE WATEEGBASSHILL CABOTJSAl. 79
ne only smiled at my simplicity, and quoted the precedent
m Horace, (for he is a good classic scholar),
" Et nux omabat menBam, cmn duplice fiou."
Lib. ii. sat. 2.
But I immediately poiated out to him, that he reversed the
practice of the Eomans ; for, instead of the figs being in
double ratio to the nuts, it was the latter with him that pre-
dominated in quantity, besides being pre-eminently hard
when submitted to the double action of that delicate lever
the human jaw, which nature never (except in some in-
stances, and these more apparent, perhaps, in the conform-
ation of the nose and chin) intended for a nut-cracker.
Of Friar O'Meara there is little to be said. Prout did
not think much of friars in general ; indeed, at all times
the working parochial clergy in Ireland have looked on them
as a kind of undisciplineij. Cossacks in the service of the
church militant, of whom it cannot conveniently get rid,
but who are much better adepts in sharing the plunder than
in labouring to earn it. The good father often explained
to me how the matter stood, and how the bishop wanted to
regulate these friars, and make them work for the instruc-
tion of the poor, instead of their present lazy life ; but they
were a match for him at Eome, where none dare whisper a
word against one of the fraternity of the cowl. There are
some papers in the Prout collection on this subject, which
(when you get the chest) will explain all to you. O'Meara
(who was not the " Voice from St. Helena," though he some-
times passed for that gentleman on the Continent) was a
pleasant sort of fellow, not very deep in divinity or black-
lettered knowledge of any kind, but conversable and chatty,
having frequently accompanied yovmg 'squires, as travelling
tutor to Italy, much in the style of those learned function-
aries who lead a dancing-bear through the market-towns of
England. There was no dinner within seven miles of Cork
without O'Meara, PuU soon would his keen nostril, ever
upturned, (as Milton sayeth) into the murky air, have
snuffed the scent of culinary preparation in the breeze that
came from "WatergrasshiU : therefore it was that Prout sent
him a note of invitation, knowing he would come, whether
or no.
80 FATHEH PEOITt's EELIQrES.
Such were the guests who, with George Knapp and my-
self, formed the number of the elect to dine with Sir "Wal-
ter at the father's humble board ; and when the covers were
removed (grace having been said by Prout in a style that
would have rejoiced the sentimental Sterne) a glorious vision
of fish was unfolded to the raptured sight ; and I confess I
did not much regret the absence of the turkey, whose plump
carcass I could get an occasional glimpse of, hanging from
the roof of the kitchen. "We ate, and confabulated as fol-
lows : —
"I don't approve," said Bob 01den,"of Homer's ideas as
to a social entertainment : he does not let his heroes converse
rationally until long after they have set down to table, or,
as Pope vulgarly translates it,
" Soon as the rage of hunger is repressed."
Now I think that a very gross way of proceeding."
o'meaea.
In our convent we certainly keep up the observance, such
as Pope has it. The repast is divided into three distinct pe-
riods ; and in the conventual refectory you can easily dis-
tinguish at what stage of the feeding time the brotherhood
are engaged. The first is called, 1°, altum silentium ; then,
2°, clangor dentium ; then, 3° ruvior gentium.
COEBET.
I protest against the personal allusion contained in that
second item. Tou are always making mischief, O'Meara.
BELLEW.
I hope that when the friars talk of the news of the day,
— for such, I suppose, is the meaning of rumor gentium —
they previously have read the private London correspond-
ence of the " Cork Chronicle."
PEOTJT.
Sir "Walter, perhaps you would wish to begin with a fresh
egg, ab ovo, as Horace recommends; or perhaps you'd
THE ■WATEEaEA.SSHIIiL OABOXTSAL. 81
prefer the order described by Pliny, in Ms letter to Septi-
mius, 1°, a radish ; 2°, three snails ; and 3°, two eggs* or
oysters ad libitum, aa laid down by Macrobius.f
SCOTT.
Thank you, I can manage with this slice of salmon-trout.
I can relish the opinion of that great ornament of your
chiirch, Thomas k Kempis, to whose taste nothing was more
delicious than a salmon, always excepting the Psalms of
David/ as he properly says, JIfeAi Psalmi Bavidici sapiunt
salmones .'f
PEOTTT.
That was not a bad idea of Tom Kempis. But my fa-
vourite author, St. Chrysostom, surpasses him in wit. "When
talking of the sermon on the Lake of Tiberias, he marvels
atthe siagularpositionof the auditory relative to thepreacher:
his words are, Aimv kaf/^a, o'l /%^us5 ivi rriv yf{t, xai 6 aXnvs
IV BaXarrfi ! Serm. de Nov. et Vet. Test.
o'meaea.
That is a capital turbot, O Prout ! and, instead of talk-
ing Greek and quoting old Chrysostom (the saint with the
golden mouth), you ought to be helping Jack BeUew and
George Knapp. — What sauce is that ?
PE0T7T.
The senate of Eome decided the sauce long ago, by order
* Tide Plin. Ep. ad Septim, where he acquaints us with the proper
manner of oommenoing operations. His words are, " Lactucas singulas,
cochleaa tres, ova bina." Our cockle and the French word cuiller, a
spoon, are derived from the Latia cochleare ; of which cochlea (a snail
or periwinile) is the root. Thus we read in Martial —
" Sum coohleis habUis, sed nee magis utilis ovis ;
Numquid scis potius our cochleare vocer ?"
t In the third book of his " Saturnalia," Macrobius, describing the
feast given by the Plamen lentulus to the Koman people on his instal-
lation to office, praises the host's generosity, inasmuch as he opened the
banquet by providing as a whet " ostreas crudaa quantitm quiaque vellet."
t See the Elzevir edition of Thorn, a Kempis, in vitd, p. 246.
a
82 TATHEB PEOTTT'S EEMQTIES.
of Domitiaa, as Juyenal might tell you, or even the French
translation —
" Le Benat mit aux voii cette afiPaire importaute,
Et le torbot fiit mis a la sauce piguanle,"
ESTAPP.
Sir "Walter ! as it haa been my distinguished lot — a cir-
cumstance that confers everlasting glory on my mayoralty —
to have had the honour of presenting you yesterday with
the freedom of the corporation of Cork, allovsr me to pre-
sent you with our next best thing, a potato.
SCOTT.
I have received with pride the municipal franchise, and I
now accept with equal gratitude the more substantial gift
you have handed me, ia this capital esculent of your happy
country.
PEOTJT.
Our round towers, Sir Walter, came from the east, as
will be one day proved ; but our potatoes came from the
west ; Persia sent us the one, and Virginia the other. We
are a glorious people ! The two hemispheres mioister to our
historic recollections ; and if we look back on our annals,
we get drunk with glory ;
" For when hist'ry begins to grow dull in the east,
We may order our wings, and be off to the west."
May I have the pleasure of wine vrith you ? Gentlemen,
fill all round.
SCOTT.
I iatend vrriting a somewhat in which Sir Walter Ealeigh
shall te a distinguished and prominent character ; and I
promise you the potato shall not be forgotten. The discovery
of that root is alone sufficient to immortalize the hero who
lost his head so unjustly on Tower Hill.
KNAPP.
Christopher Columbus was equally ill-treated : and nfii-
THE WATEEGEASSHILL CAEOTTSAIi. 83
thei" he nor Ealeigh have even given their name to the ob-
jects they discovered. Great men have never obtained
justice from their contemporaries. — I'll trouble you for
gome of the fins of that turbot, Prout.
KtOTJT.
Nay, further, without going beyond the circle of this
festive board, why has not Europe and the world united to
confer some signs^l distinction on the useful inventor of
" PyroUgneous Acid ?" Why is not the discoverer of " Trotter
oil" and " Eukeirogeneion" fittingly rewarded by mankind?
Because men have narrow views, and prefer erecting columns
to Spring Rice, and to Bob "Waithman who sold shawls in
Pleet Street. — Let me recommend some lobster-sauce.
COEBET.
Minerva, who first extracted oil from the olive, was deified
in Greece ; and Olden is not yet even a member of the
dullest scientific body ; while Dr. Lardner belongs to them
all, if I can understand the phalanx of letters that foUows
his name.
KNAPP.
I have read the utilitarian Doctor's learned treatise on
the potato — a subject of which he seems to understand the
chemical manipulation. He says, very justly, that as the
root contains saccharine matter, sugar may be extracted
therefrom ; he is not sure whether it might not be distilled
into whisky ; but he is certain that it makes capital starch,
and triumphantly shews that the rind can feed pigs, and
the stalk thatch the pigsty. O most wonderful Doctor
Lardner ! Here's his health ! Anvugios ! — not a bad intro-
duction to a bumper of claret. ^Three times three.']
PEOTJT.
I too have turned my thoughts into that channel, and
among my papers there is a treatise on " the root." I have
prefixed to my dissertation this epigraph from Cicero's
speech " pro ArchiS. Poeta," where the Eoman orator talks
of the belles lettries ; but I apply the words much more
literally — I hate nietaphor in practical matters such as
a 2
84 PATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQtTES.
these : " They are the food of our youth, the sustenance of
our old age ; they are delightful at home, and by no means
in one's way abroad ; they cause neither nightmare nor in-
digestion, but are capital things on a journey, or to fiU the
waUet of a pilgrim." " Adolescentiam alunt, senectutem
oblectant ; delectant domi, non impediunt foris ; pemoctant
nobiscum, peregrinantur, rusticantur." So much for pota-
toes. But there are other excellent natural productions
in our island, which are also duly celebrated in my papers,
and possibly may be published ; but not tUl I am gathered
to the grave. I have never forgotten the interests of pos-
terity.— Pass that decanter.
SCOTT.
Talking of the productions of the soil, I cannot reconcile
the antiquity, the incontestable antiquity, of the lyric ode
called the " Groves of Blarney," of which before dinner
we have traced the remote origin, and examined so many
varied editions with a book of more modern date, 'called
" Csesar's Commentaries." The beech tree, Caesar says,
does not grow in these islands, or did not in his time : All
trees grow there, he asserts, the same as in Gaul, except the
lime-toee and the beech — " Materia ferd eadem ac in Gallic,
-praiier fagum et abietem." (Cms. de Bella Gallico, Ub. v.)
Now in the song, which is infinitely older than Caesar, we
have mention made, " besides the leeches," of certaia
"groves of beeches," — the text is positive.
KNAPP.
That observation escaped me totally ; and still the differ-
ent versions aU concur in the same assertion. The Latin or
Vulgate codex says —
" Gbande decus pagi
riuvii stant margine PAGI."
The Greek or Septuagint version is equally stubborn in
making out the case —
'igrocf/tiviav xai i/Xti
THE WATEEGBASSHII-l CABOTJSAIi. 85
And the 'French copy, taken from Doomsday Book, is con-
clusive, and a complete poser —
"Sue oes borda ohamptoes
On a plante des hetees,"
I am afraid Caesar's reputation for accuracy wiU be greatly
shaken by this discovery ; he is a passable authority in mili-
tary tactics, but not in natural history : give me Pliny ! —
This trout is excellent !
OLDEW,
I think the two great authors at issue on this beech-tree
business can be conciliated thus; let us say, thatby the Greek
^ijym, and the Latin faffi, nothing more is meant than
the clan the O'Fagans, who are very thickly planted here-
abouts. They are still a hungry race, as their name Pagan
indicates — a-ro tov fiayiiv.
PEOTTT.
It must have been one of that family who, in the reign of
Aurelius, distinguished himself by his great appetite at the
imperial court of Eome. Thus Berchous sings, on the au-
thority of Suetonius :
" Phagon fat en ce genre uu homme extraordinaire ;
II avait I'estomao (grands Dieux !) d'un dromadaire :
H faisait disparaitre, en ses rarea featins,
Vn pore, tm stmglier, im mouton, et cent pains ! / .'"
o'meaea.
That's what we at Paris used to call pain h discretion. —
Margaret, open some oysters, and get the cayenne pepper.
BELLBW.
I protest I don't like to see the OTagans run down — my
aunt was an O'Pagan ; and as to deriving the name from the
Greek am rov (paynv, I think it a most gratuitous assumption,
KNAPP.
I agree vfith my worthy friend BeUew as to the impro-
priety of harping upon names. One would think the mayor
of Cork ought to obtain some respect, and be spared the
infliction of the waggery of his fellow-townsmen. But no ;
because I clear the city of mad dogs, and keep hydrophobia
86 TATHEE PEOUT'S EBLIQUES.
far from our walls, I am called the " dog- (I had almost said
kid-) Knapper !" Now, my family is of German extraction,
and my great-grandfather served under the gallant Dutch-
man in his wars with the " Grande Monarque," before he
came over vrith WiUiam to deliver this country from slavery
and wooden shoes. It was my great-grand-father who in-
vented that part of a soldier's accoutrement, called, after
him, a " Knapp's sack."
COEBET.
I hope, Sir "Walter, you wiU not leave Cork without din-
ing at the mansion-house with our worthy mayor. Palstaff
himself could not find fault with the excellent flavour of
Knapp's sack.
SOOTT.
I fear I shall not be able to postpone my departure ; but
as we are on this subject of names, I have to observe, that
it is an old habit of the vulgar to take liberty with the
syllables of a great man's patronymic. Melancthon * was
forced to clothe his name in Greek to escape their aUuaions ;
Jules de I'EcheUe changed his into ScaUger ; Pat Lardner
has become Dionysius ; and the great author of those im-
mortal letters, which he has taken care to tell us will be read
when the commentaries of Cornelius k Lapide are forgotten,
gave no name at all to the world —
" Stat nominis umbra !"
PEOTJT.
Poor Erasmus ! how he used to be badgered about hia
cognomen —
" Quserjtur unde tibi sit nomen, Eeasmtjs ? — Eras Mus !"
for even so that a,rch wag, the Chancellor Sir Thomas More,
addressed him. But his reply is on record, and his penta-
meter beats the Chancellor's hexameter —
" Si mim Mua ego, tejudiee Summus ero!"
• The real name of Melancthon was PhiJipp Sohwartzerd(®c]^ajor|ej:b),
which means blaci earth, and is most happily rendered into Greek by
the term Melancthon, MeXaiva ■yBinv. Thus sought he to escape the
Tulgar conundrums which his name in the vemacular German could
not fail to elicit. A Lapide's name was iUin
THE WATEEGEASSHILL CAEOUSAIi. 87
SCOTT.
Ay, and you •will recollect how he splendidly retaliated
on the punster by dedicating to Sir Thomas his Manias
'Eyxu/iiov. Erasmus was a capital fellow,
" The glory of the priesthood, and the shame !"
o'meaea.
Pray, Sir Walter, are you any relation of our great irre-
fragable doctor, Duns Scotus P He was an ornament of the
rranciscan order.
SCOTT.
No, I have not that honour ; but I have read what Eras-
mus says of certain Members of your fraternity, in a dia-
logue between himself, and the Echo :
" (Eeasmus loquitur.)— Q,md est saoerdotium ?
(Echo reapoTidit.) — Otiuni !"
PEOn.
That reminds me of Larduer's idea of " otium cum digni-
tate," which he proposes to read thus — otium cum diggin'
Haties '■ — The sugar and the materials here for Mr. BeUew.
COEBBT. '
There was a witty thing, and a severe thing, said of the
Barberini famUy at Rome, when they took the stones of the
Amphitheatrum Elavium to build them their palazzo :
" Quod non fecerant Barbari, hoc feceruut Barberini." But
I thiak Jack Bellew, in his " Chronicle," made as pointed a
remark on Sir Thomas Deane, knight and builder, who bought
the old furniture and gutted the old castle of Blarney:
" The Banes" quoth Jack, "have always been pillaging old
Ireland!"
SCOTT.
"Whoever connived at or abetted the destruction of that
old mansion, or took any part in the transaction, had the
soul of a Goth ; and the " Chronicle " could not say less.
COEBET.
BeUew has vented his indignation in a song, which, if
88 FATHBE PBOTJT's EEIIQTTES.
called on by so distinguished an antiquary, he will, no doubt,
sing. And first let me propose the " Liberty of the Press "
and the "Cork Chronicle," — nine times nine, standing.
Hurra !
Slacfe JStlltfa'S Song,
AlE — " 0 weep for the hour .'"
Oh ! the muse shed a tear
When the cruel auctioneer,
With a hammer in his hand, to sweet Blarney came !
Lady Jeffery's ghost
Left the Stygian coast.
And shriek'd the Uve-long night for her grandson's shame.
The Vandal's hammer fell,
And we know fuU weE
' Who bought the castle furniture and fixtures, O !
And took off in a cart
('Twas enough to break one's heart !)
All the statues made of lead, and the pictures, O !
You're the man I mean, hight
Sir Thomas Deane, knight,
Whom the people have no reason to thank at all ;
But for you those things so old
Sure would never have been sold.
If or the fox be looking out from the banquet-hall.
Oh, ye pull'd at such a rate
At every wainscoting and grate,
Determin'd the old house to sack and garble, O!
That you didn't leave a splinter,
To keep out the could winter,
Except a limestone chimney-piece of marble, O !
And there the place was left
Where bold King Charles the Twelfth
Hung, before his portrait went upon a journey, O !
Och ! the family's itch
For going to law was sitch,
That they bound him long before to an attorney, O !
But still the magic stone
(Blessings on it !) is not flown.
To which a debt of gratitude Pat Lardner owes :
Kiss that blockj if you're a dunce,
Andyou'U emulate at once
The genius who to fimie by dint of blarney rose.
THE WATEEflEASSHILL CAEOITSAL. 89
SCOTT.
1 thank you, Mr. Bellew, for your excellent ode on that
most lamentable subject : it must have been an evil day for
Blarney.
BELLEW.
A day to be blotted out of the annals of Innisfail — a day
of calamity and downfai. The nightingale never sang so
plaintively in " the groves," the dove or the " gentle plover"
were not heard " in the afternoon," the fishes wept in the
deepest recesses of the lake, and strange sounds were said
to issue from " the cave where no dayUght enters." — Let me
have a squeeze of lemon.
SCOTT.
But what became of the " statues gracing this noble
mansion ?"
BELLEW.
Sir Thomas Deane bought "Nebuchadnezzar," and the
town-clerk, one Besnard, bought " Julius Caesar." Sir
Thomas of late years had taken to devotion, and conse-
quently coveted the leaden ef£gy of that Assyrian kin^, of
whom Daniel tells us such strange things ; but it turned out
that the graven image was a likeness of Hercules, after all !
so that, having put up the statue in his lawn at Blackrock,
the wags have since called his villa " Herculaneum." Like
that personage of whom Tommy Moore sings, in his pretty
poem about a sculptor's shop, who made a similar qui pro
quo. What's the verse, Corbet ?
COEBET.
" He came to buy Jonah, and took away Jove !"
o'meaea.
There is nothing very wonderful in that. In St. Peter's
at Eome we have an old statue of Jupiter (a capital antique
bronze it is), which, with the addition of " keys " and some
other modem improvements, makes an excellent figure of the
prince of the apostles.
90 JATHEB PEOTJT'S EELIQTJES.
PE0T7T.
Swift says that Jupiter was originally a mere corruption
of " Jew Peter." You have given an edition of the Dean,
Sir Walter ?
SOOTT.
Tes ; "but to return to your Blarney statue : I wonder the
•peasantry did not rescue, vi et armis, the ornaments of their
immortal groves from the grasp of the barbarians. I hap-
pened to be in Paris when the allies took away the sculp-
tured treasures of the Louvre, and the Venetian horses of
the Carrousel ; and I well remember the indignation of the
sons of Prance. Pray what was the connexion between
Blarney Castle and Charles XII. of Sweden ?
BELLBW.
One of the Jeffery family served with distinction under
the gallant Swede, and had received the royal portrait on his
return to his native country, after a successful campaign
against the Czar Peter. The picture was swindled out of
Blarney by an attorney, to satisfy the costs of a law-suit.
OLBEN.
The Czar Peter was a consummate politician ; but when
he chopped off the beards of the Eussians, smdi forced his
subjects by penal laws to shave their chins, he acted very
unwisely; he should have procured a supply of eukeiro-
geneion, and effected his object by smooth means.
OOEBET.
Come, Olden, let us have one of your songs about that
wonderful discovery.
OLDEN.
I'll willingly give you an ode in praise of the incomparable
lather ; but I think it fair to state that my song, Kke my
tukeirogeneion, is a modern imitation of a Greek original;
you slmll hear it in both languages.
THE WATEEGEASSHILL OAEOtTSAl.
91
Come, list to my stave,
Ye who roam o'er the land or the wave,
Or in grots Bubterraneau,
Or up the blue Mediterranean,
Near Etna's big crater.
Or across the equator,
Where, within St. Helena, there lieth an
emperor's grave ;
If, when you have got to the Caj)e of
&ood Hope,
You begin to experience a sad want of
soap,
Bless your lot
On the spot,
If you ohanqe to lay eye on
A flask of Eukeirogeneion ;
For then you may safely rely on
A smooth and most comforting shave !
In this liquid there lies no deception ;
For even old Neptune,
Whose bushy chin frightens
The green squad of OSitons —
And who turns up the deep
With the huge flowing sweep
Of his lengthy and ponderous beard,^
Should he rub but his throttle
With the foam of this bottle,
He'd find.
To his mind.
In a twinkling the mop would have all
disappear' d.
King Nebuchadnezzar,
Who was turn'd for his sins to a grazier,
(For they stopp'd his allowance of praties.
And made him eat grass on the banks of
Euphrates),
Whose statue Sir Thomas
Took from us;
Along with the image of Csesar :
(But Erank CressweU vnU tell the whole
story to Eraser :)
Though they left him a capital razor.
Still went for seven years with his hair
like a lion,
Eor want of Eukeirogeneiott.
EuJiS/foysi/EMi/,
Trig f/iri^ aiepodaOe
Q^i;C» oaoi irXavaaSi
E)' yy, T ev KVfiaTiirai
Karayatois, r iv ajrujEaai
Kvaj/e^) re Meffoyaiffi,
Tlapa Kajiivif A.iTvaiifi
laij/iepLvov TTipav ts
I^vkXov, €ir' ^Xtvav ts
08ov TrXeovres fiaKpav,
" AyaBiXTTi-SoQ" irpoQ axpav,
^navig ei Ttg yivoiTO
^airoivog, Krjp ^mpoiTO
Et y' o/Jifia TO ^Xnrei aov
To ErKEIPOTENEION,
Kowpa yap tj fiaXtffTa
TlapiaTi ffoi TpiXXwTa.
Ev KXva/iaT' ovtid rqiSt
E(Tr' airaTtj, yap 6 Sti
TIo(ThSwVj 6 yipatoQ
Mieyag ^vvoffiyaiog,
AatTov £^(iii/ TTbiy^jvUf
'Q 0o€eeI TptTiava,
Kat -oiSavei QaXaaaav^
OaaKiQ t^nrtTaaatv
XlwyaivoQ tKTaOevrag
UXoKaiiovg ^oTpvotvTag,
Upoaui'Trov ti ys Xovei,
KvTovg a^pi^ tovtovi
Ev aKapet to Qiiov
AeiatvBTat yeveiov*
JistvxaSvaitTap (ffvXijg
Ov BXapviKrig af vXr)Q
*0 Qtofiag To slSwXov
"O l3ap€apog /iri ^oXoiv,
^eyaXrjv a^aiptov Xuav
Kai S7iiOb)V ^VTUav^
2fii T avTO pt%8 Kaiffap,
"Qs yvoaiTai o *PA1SAP)
Ta ivp' apWT avai' iv
OiKiff Ejduv Tapa^tv,
"0 iriayinv Kai ^aiT-jfirtJ'
EaOriiiivog, izXavrig rjv
Orjp uttr', ovTdi yap diop
E»x' EYKElPOrENEION.
92
FATHEK PEOTTT S KELIQTTES.
PBOTJX.
I don't think it fair that Prank Cresswell should say no-
thing all the evening. Up, up, my boy ! give us a speech or
a stave of some kiad or other. Have you never been at
school ? Come, let us have " Nerval on the G-rampian
hills," or something or other.
Thus apostrophized, 0 Queen ! I put my wits together ;
and, anxious to contribute my quota to the common fund of
classic enjoyment, I selected the immortal ode of Campbell,
and gave a Latin translation ia rhyme as well as I could.
Cl)e JSattU of ftoi^jnltnKen. Pralium apud Hohenlinden.
On Linden, when the sun was low,
All bloodleBS lay th' untrodden snow,
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser rolling rapidly.
But Linden saw another sight.
When the drums beat at dead of
night,
Commanding fires of death to light
The darkness of the scenery.
By torch and trumpet fast array' d,
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neigh' d
To join the dreadful rivalry.
Then shooi the hills, by thunder
riven ;
Then rush'd the steed, to battle
driven :
And louder than the bolts of heaven
Par flashed the red artillery !
The combat thickens ! on, ye brave !
Who rush to glory or the grave.
Wave, Munich ! all thy banners
wave,
Sol ruit coelo minuitqne lumen,
Nix super terris jaoet usque
munda,
"Eti tenebrosii fluit Iser und^
PlebEe flumen !
Namque nocturnus simul arsit
ignis,
Tympanum rauoo sonuit boatu,
Dum micant flammis, agitante
flatu,
Bura malignis.
Jam dedit vocem tuba ! fax ru-
bentes
Ordinat turmis eqnites, et ultr&
Pert equos ardor, nitilante
cultro.
Ire furentes.
Turn sono colles tremuere belli.
Turn ruit campo sonipes, et
cether
Mugit, et rubra tonitru videtur
Arce reveUi !
Ingruit Btrages ! citft, ferte gres-
sum !
Quos triumphantem redimere
pulchro
THE WATERaEASSHILL CAEOSrAIi. 93
And charge with all thy ohiyalry ! Tempori laurmn juvat ! aut fie-
piiohro
Stare cupressum !
Few, few shall part where many Hie ubi campuin premuere multi,
meet! Tecta quam rari patriae vide-
The enow shall be their winding- bunt!
sheet, Eeu sepulchrali nive quot ma-
And every sod beneath their feet nebunt,
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre ! Pol ! neo inulti !
Such, 0 Queen ! was my feeble effort : and to your fos-
tering kindness I commit the luckless abortion, hoping to
be forgiven by Tom Campbell for having upset into very in-
adequate Latin his spirit-stirring poetry. I made amends,
however, to the justly enraged Muse, by eliciting the fol-
lowing dithyrambic from Dan Corbet, whom I challenged
ia my turn :
Ban Corbet's gona-
The Ivory Tooth.
Believe me, dear Prout,
Should a tooth e'er grow loose in your head.
Or fall out,
And perchance you'd wish one in its stead,
Soon you'd see what my Art could contrive for ye (
When Pd forthwith produce,
For your reverence's use,
A most beautiful tooth carved from ivoiy !
Which, when dinner-time comes.
Would so well fit your gums.
That to make one superior
'Twould puzzle a fairy, or
Any cute Leprechawn
That trips o'er the lawn,
Or the spirit that dwells
In the lonely harebells.
Or a witch from the big lake Ontario !
'Twould fit in so tight.
So briUiant and bright,
And be made of such capital stuff,
That no food
Must needs be eschew'd
On account of its being too tough j
94 TATHEE PEOTTTS EEIIQUBS.
'Twould enable a sibyl
The hardest sea-biscuit to nibble ;
Nay, with such a sharp tusk, and such poMshed enamel,
Dear Prout, you could eat up a camel !
As I know you will judge
With eye microscopic
What I say on this delicate topic.
And I wish to beware of all fudge,
I tell but the bare naked truth,
And I hope I don't state what's irrelevant,
When I say that this tooth,
Brought from Africa, when
In the depths of a palm-shaded glen
It was captured by men,
Then adorned in the fuU bloom of youth,
The jaws of a blood-royal elephant.
We are told,
That a surgeon of old —
Oh, 'tis he was well skilled in the art of nosology !
Por such was his knowledge, he
Could make you a nose bran new !
I scarce can believe it, can you ?
And still did a pubHo most keen and discerning
Acknowledge his learning ;
Tea, such skill was his.
That on any unfortunate phiz,
By some luckless chance,
In the wars of France,
Deprived of its fleshy ridge,
He'd raise up a nasal bridge.
Now my genius is not so precocious
As that of Dr. Taghacotius,
For I only profess to be versed in the art of dontology ;
To make you a nose
" C'est toute autre chose ;"
For at best, my dear Prout,
Instead of a human snout,
You'd get but a sorry apology.
But let me alone
For stopping a gap, or correcting a flaw
1 In a patient's jaw 5
Or making a tooth that, like bone of your bone.
Win outUve your own,
And shine on in the grave when your spirit is flown.
THE MIRACULOUS DRAUGHT.
THE WATEEGEASSHILIi CAEOTJSAl. 95
I know there's a blockhead
That will put you a tooth up with wires,
And then, when the dumsy thing tires.
This most impudent fellow
Will quietly tell you
To take it out of its socket.
And put it back into your waistcoat pocket !
But 'tis not so with mine,
O most learned divine !
For without any spurious auxiliary.
So firmly infixed in your dexter maxiUary,
Ta your last dying moment' 'twill ishine.
Unless 'tis knock'd out,
In some desperate rout,
By a sudden discharge of artillery.
Thus the firmer 'twiU grow as the wearer grows older.
And then, when, in death y6u shall moulder.
Like that Q-reek who had gotten.'ta ivory shoulder, , , .
The deUght and amazement of ev'ry beholder.
You'll be sung by the poets in ycm- turn, O !'
" Oente Pnoutl humeroque Pelops insignia eiurno I
COEBET.
Come, old IVout, let's hare a staye ! Aai first, here's to
yourhealth; my did .cocb ! ' ' ■ : :.■'■■■
" Perpetual Hloom
. To 41ie .Church, of E'omel" . .
[Drunk standing.']
The excellent old man acknowledged the toast with be-
coming dignity; an^-tunefuUy warbled the Latin original of
one of '' the Melodies."
dTatlire 3Prout';S ^ong. Prout cantat.
Let Erin remember the days of O ! utinam sanos mea lema reoo-
old, gitet annos
Ere her faithless sons betray'd Antea qu^ nati yincla dedere
her, pati.
When Maiaohi wore tide collar of Cilm Malachus toeqtte ut patrisa
gold, defensor honorque
Which he won from the proud Ibat : erat ver6 pignus ab hoste
invader ; fgro,
96 FATHEE PEOTTT'S EELIQTJES.
When Nial, with standard of green Tempore vexillo viridante equita-
unfarl'd, bat in illo
IJed the red-branch knights to Nialua ante truces fervidus ire
danger, " duces.
Ere the emerald gem of the west- Hi nee erant anni radiis in fronte
em world tyranni
Was set in the brow of a stran- Falgeat ut claris, insula gemma
ger. maris.
On Lough Neagh's banks as the Quando taoet ventus, Neagha dilm
fisherman strays, margine lentus
When the cool, calm eve's de- Piscator vadit, vesperse ut umbra
clining,, cadit.
He sees the round towers of other Contemplans undas, ibi turres stare
days rotundas
Beneath the waters shining. Credidit, inque hxs&s oppida cer-
So shall memory oft, in dream sub- nit aquis.
Hme, Sic memori in somnis res gesta
Catch a glimpse of the days that reponitur omnis
are over, Historicosque dies rettuUt alma
And, sighing, look through the qaies,
waves of time, Gtloria sublimis se effert e fluctibus
Por the long-&ded glories they imis,
cover. Atque apparet ibi patria cara tibi.
PEOrT.
I now call on my worthy friend Dowden, whom I am
sorry to see indulging in nothing but soda all the evening :
come, President of the " Temperance," and ornament of "the
Kirk," a song !
Mck l3o(ut(tn'£i ^ong.
AlB — "I sing the Maid of Lodi."
I sing the fount of soda, • hpiarov fitv to vSutp—
That sweetly springs for me. So Pindar sang of old,
Ajid I hope to make this ode a Though modem bards — proh pu-
Delightful melody ; dor ! —
For if " CastaJian" water Deem water dull and cold;
Befreshed the tuneful nine. But if at my suggestion
HealthtotheMuse! I've broughther They'd try the crystal spring,
A bubbling draught of mine. They'd find that, for digestion,
Pure element's the tlmig.
THE WATEUaEASSHILL CAEOTTSAIi. 97
Witli seda's eheerfiil essence Ifor is the beverage injured
They'd fill the brimming glass, When flavoured with a lime ;
And feel the mild 'fervesoence Or if, when slightly gingered,
Of hydrogen and gas ; 'Tis swallowed off in time.
Nor quaff Geneva's liquor —
Source of a thousand flls ! Par from the tents of topers
Nor swill the poisonous ichor Blest be my lot to dwell,
Cork (to her shame !) distils. Secure from interlopers
At peaceful " Sunday's well."
Gia is a lurking viper, IVee o'er my lawn to wander,
That stings the maddened soul, Amid sweet flowers and fruits j
And Eeason pays the piper, And may I stUl grow fonder
WhUe Polly drains the bowl ; Of chemical pursuits.
And rum, made of molasses,
Inchneth man to sin ; Through life with step unerring
And faj" potheen surpasses To gUde, nor wealth to hoard.
The alcohol of gia. , Content if a red herring
Adorn my frugal boajrd j
But purest air in fixture While Martha, mild and placid.
Pervades the soda draught, Assumes the household cares,
And forms the sylph-Hke mixture And pyroHgnious acid
Brewed by our gentle craft. The juicy ham prepares.
SCOTT.
That is a capital defence of the Temperance Society, and
of sodaic compounds, Mr. Dowden, and clearly refutes the
rash assertion of Horace —
" Neo durare diil neo vivere carmina possunt
QuEe scribuntur aquse potoribus."
PEOTIT.
Dick, you have a decided claim for a song on any of our
guests whose melodious pipe we have not as yet heard.
DOWDEN.
I call on O'Meara, whom I have detected watching, with
a covetous eye, something in the distant landscape. A song,
friar!
o'meaba.
I am free to confess that yonder turkey, of which I can
get a glimpse through the kitchen-door, has a most tempt-
98
I'ATHEE PBOTJT'S EBLIQITES.
ing aspect. "Would it were spitted ! — but, alas ! this is
Friday. However, there are substitutes even for a turkey,
as I shall endeavour to demonstrate in the most elegant
style of Franciscan Iiatinity ; adding a free translation for
the use of the ignorant.
dfrtar (©'Plcai-a'a giong;.
Why then, sure it was made by a learn-
ed owl.
The " rule" by which I beg, '
Forbidding to eat of the tender fowl
That hangs on yonder peg.
But, rot it ! no matter :
Por here on a platter,
Sweet Margaret brings
A food fit for kings ;
And a meat
Clean and neat —
That's an egg !
Sweet maid.
She brings nie an egg newly laid !
And to fast I need ne'er be afraid,
For 'tis Peg
That can find me an egg.
Cantilena Omearica.
I.
Nostrft non est regul^
Edenda gallina.
Altera sed edula
Splendent in culinS :
Ova mauus sedula
Affert milii biua !
Est Margarita,
Qufe facit ita,
Puellarum regina !
Three different ways there are of eat-
ing them ;
First boil'd, then fried with salt, —
But there's a particular way of treating
them,
Where many a coot's at fault :
For with parsley and flour
'Tis in Margaret's power
To make up a dish,
Neither meat, fowl, nor fish ;
But in Paris they call 't
A neat
Omelette.
Sweet girl !
In truth, as in Latin, her name is b
pearl,
When she gets
Me a platter of nice omelettes.
11.
Triplex mos est edere i
Prim6, genuina j
Dein, certo foedere
Tosta, et salina ;
Turn, nil herbse Isedere
Possuut aut farina ;
Est Margarita,
Quse facit ita,
Puellarum regina !
THE WATEEGEASSHILL OAKOtfSAL. 99
III.
{Lento e maestoso.)
Ooh ! 'tis aU in my eye, and a joke, Tempus stulta plebs abhorret
To call fasting a sorrowful yoke ; Quadragesimale ;
Sure, of Dublin-bay herrings a keg, Halec sed si in mens^ foret,
And an egg, Res iret non tarn male !
Is enough for aU sensible folk ! Ova dum hsec nympha torret
Success to the fragrant turf-smoke, In oM cum sale.
That curls round the pan on the fire ; Est Margarita,
While the sweet yellow yolk Quse facit ita,
IVom the egg-shells is broke Puellarum regina !
In that pan.
Who can,
If he have but the heart of a man,
Not feel the soft flame of desire.
When it burns to a clinker the heart of
a friar?
PEOTJT.
I coincide with all that has been said in praise of eggs ;
I have written a volumiaous essay on the subject ; and as
to frying them in a pan, it is decidedly the best method.
That ingenious man, Crofton Croker, was the first among
aU the writers on " useful knowledge " who adorn this utili-
tarian epoch to discover the striking resemblance that exists
between those two delightful objects in natural history, a
daisy and a fried egg. Eggs broken into a pan seem encir-
cled with a whitish border, having a yellow nucleus in the
centre ; and the similar appearance of the field-daisy ought
to have long since drawn the notice of "Wordsworth. Mean-
time, in the matter of frying eggs, care should be taken not
to overdo them, as an old philosopher has said — ^asXsrj) to -rav.
But let none imagine that in all I have said I intend to
hiat, in the remotest manner, any approval of that barbarous
and unnatural combination — that horrid amalgam, yclept a
pancake, than which nothing can be more detestable.
SOOXT.
Have you any objection, learned host, to our hearing a
little instrumental music ? Suppose we got a tune on the
bagpipe ? I understand your' man, Terry Callaghan, can
squeeze the bags to some purpose.
h2
100 TATHEE PUOTJT'S EELIQUJES.
PEOtlT.
Terry ! come in, and bring your pipes !
Terry, nothing loath, came, though with some difficulty,
and rather unsteadily, from the kitchen ; and having esta-
blished himself on a three-legged stool (the usual seat of
Pythonic inspiration), gave, after a short prelude, the fol-
lowing harmonious strain, with vocal accompaniment to suit
the tuneful drone of the bags : in which arrangement he
strictly adhered to the Homeric practice ; for we find that
the most approved and highly gifted miastrels of the " Odys-
sey," (especially that model among the bards of antiquity,
Demodocjis), owing to their contempt for wind-instruments,
were enabled to play and sing at the same time ; but neither
the lyre, the plectrum, the ^ogfiiy^, the chelys, the testudo,
or the barbiton, afford such facilities for the concomitance
of voice and music as that wondrous engine of harmony, the
Celtic bagpipe, called " corne muse " by the French, as if
par excellence "cornu muscB." Terry, having exalted his horn,
sang thus :
t!Eerrg CaIIag!)an'S Song;
Being a full and true Account of the Storming of Blarney Castle^ by
the united forces of Cromwell, Ireton, and Fairfax, in 1628.
AlE — " rm akin to the Callaghans."
0 Blarney Ca«tle, my darlint !
Sure you're nothing at all but a stone
Wrapt in ivy — a nest for all varmiat,
Since the ould Lord Clancarty is gone.
Och ! 'tis you that was once strong and aincient,
And ye kep all the Sassenachs down.
While fighting them battles that aint yet
Forgotten by martial renown.
O Blarney Castle, &o.
Bad luck to that robber, ould CrommiH !
That plundered our beautiful fort ;
We'll never forgive him, though some will —
Saxons ! such as George Kuapp and his sort.
But they tell us the day '11 come, when Dannel
Win purge the whole coimtry, and drive
All the Sassenachs into the channel.
Nor leave a CromwelHan alive.
O Blarney Castle, &&
THE "WATEHGBASSHIIil, OAEOUSAI;. 101
Curse the day clumsy N'oE'a ugly corpus.
Clad in copper, was seen on our plain ;
When he rowled oyer here like a porpoise,
In two or three hooters from Spain !
And hekase that he was a freemason
He mounted a battering-ram.
And into her mouth, full of treason.
Twenty pound of gunpowder he'd cram.
O Blarney Castle, &c.
So wlien the brare boys of dancarty
Looked over their battlement- v/all,
They saw wicked Ohver's party
All a feeding on powder and ball ;
And that giniral that married his daughter,
Wid a heap of grape-shot in his jaw —
That's bould Ireton, so famous for slaughter—
And he was his brother-in-law.
O Blarney Castle, &c.
They fired o£F their bullets Uke thunder,
TiuA whizzed through the air like a snake ;
And they made the ould castle (no wonder !)
With all its foundations to shake.
While the Irish had nothing to shoot off
But their bows and their arras, the sowls !
Waypons fit for the wars of old Plutarch,
And perhaps mighty good for wild fowls,
O Blarney Castle, &c.
Oeh ! 'twas Crommill then gave the dark token —
For in the black art he was deep ;
And tho' the eyes of the Irish stood open,
They foimd themselves all fast asleep !
With his jack-boots he stepped on the water,
And he walked clanu right over the lake ;
While his sodgers they all followed after,
As dry as a duck or a drake.
O Blarney Castle, &c.
Then the gates he burnt down to a cinder.
And the roof he demolished likewise ;
O ! the rafters they flamed out like tinder.
And the buildin'^«i^ up to the skies.
And he gave the estate to the Jeffers,
With the dairy, the cows, and the hay ;
And they Hved there in clover like heifers,
As their ancestors do to this day.
O Blarney Castle, &c.
Sucli was the song of Terry, in the chorus of which he
was aided by the sympathetic baryton of Jack Bellew's
102 TATHEE PEOUT'S EEIjIQTJES.
voice, never silent when Ms country's woes are the theme
of eloquence or minstrelsy. An incipient somnolency be-
gan, however, to manifest itself in Corbet and Dick Dow-
den ; and I confess I myself can recollect little else of the
occurrences of the evening. Wherefore with this epUogue we
conclude our account of the repast on Watergrasshill, ob-
serving that Sir "Walter Scott was highly pleased with the
sacerdotal banquet, and expressed himself so to Knapp ; to
whom, on their return in a post-chaise to Cork, he ex-
claimed,
" Prorsils juound& coenam produximus illam." — ^HoB.
No. IV.
DEAN swift's MADNESS. A TAIE OE A CHTIEN.
" O thou, whatever title please thine ear,
Dean, Drapier, Biokerstaff, or G-uUirer —
Whether thou choose Cervantes' serious air.
Or laugh and shake in Kab'lais' easy chair,
Or praise the court, or magnify mankind.
Or thy grieved country's copper chains unbind !"
Pope.
"We are perfectly prepared for the overwhelming burst of
felicitation which we shall elicit from a sympathiziag public,
when we announce the glad tidings of the safe arrival in
London of the "Watergrasshill " chest," fraught with trea-
sures such as no Spanish gaUeon ever wafted from Manilla
or Peru into the waters of the Gruadalquiver. Yrova the re-
mote Irish highland where Prout wasted so much Athenian
suavity on the desert air, unnoticed and unappreciated by
the rude tenants of the hamlet, his trunk of posthumous
papers has been brought into our cabinet ; and there it
stands before us, like unto the Trojan horse, replete with the
armed offspring of the great man's brain, right well packed with
DEAN SWIPT'S madness. 103
classic stuffing — ay, pregnant witli life and glory ! Haply has
Fate decreed that it should fall into proper hands and fit-
ting custody ; else to what vile uses might not this vile box
of learned lumber have been unwittingly converted — we
shudder in spirit at the probable destiny that would have
awaited it. The Caliph Omar warmed the bath of Alex-
andria with Ptolemy's library ; and the " Prout Papers "
might ere now be lighting the pipes of " the boys " in Blar-
ney Lane, while the chest itself might afford materials for a
three-legged stool — " Truneus ficuhius, inutile lignum .'"
In verity it ought to be allowable at times to indulge in
that most pleasing opiate, self-applause ; and having made
so goodly an acquisition, why should not we chuckle in-
wardly while congratulated from without, ever and anon
glancing an eye of satisfaction at the chest :
" Mihi plaudo ipse domi, Bimul ao contemplor in arcS. !"
Never did that learned ex- Jesuit, Angelo Mai, now librarian
of the Vatican, rejoice more over a "palimpsest" MS. of some
crazy old monk, in which his quick eye fondly had detected
the long-lost decade of Livy — never did friend Pettigrew
gloat over a newly uncoffined mummy — (warranted of the
era of Sesostris) — ^never did (that living mummy) Maurice^
de Talleyrand exult over a fresh bundle of PaLtnerstonian
protocols, with more internal complacency, — than did we,
jubilating over this sacerdotal anthology, this miscellany "in
boards," at la»st safely lodged in our possession.
Apropos. We should mention that we had previously the
honour of receiving from his Excellency Prince Maurice
{aforesaid) the following note, to which it grieved us to
return a flat negative.
"Le Prince de Talleyrand prie Mr. OlitieeTobke d'agr^er
ses respectueux hommages. Ayant eu I'avantage de connaitre
personeUement feu I'Abb^ de Prout lors de ses dtudes d la
Sorbonne en 1778, il serait charm^ sit6t qu'arriveront les
papiers de ce respectable eccl&iastique, d'assister k I'ouver-
ture du cofire. Cette faveur, qu'U se flatte d'obtenir de la
poUtesse reconnue de Monsieur Toese, il S9aura duement
apprecier.
" Atnbassade de Prance, Hanovre Sq.
" ce 3 Juin."
104l PATHEB PEOTIT's EBLIQTJES.
We suspected at once, and our surmise has proved correct,
that many documents would be found referring to Marie
Antoinette's betrayers, and the practices of those three
prime intriguers, Mirabeau, Cagliostro, and Prince Maurice ;
so that we did well in eschewing the honour intended us id
overhauling these papers — Non " Talley " auxilio !
"We hate a flourish of trumpets ; and though we could
justly command aU the clarions of renown to usher in these
Prout writings, lettheirown intrinsic worth hethe sole herald
of their fame. "We are not Uke the rest of men — that
is, such as Lardner and Bob Montgomery — obliged to
inflate our cheeks with incessant effort to blow our com-
modities iato notoriety. No ! we are not disciples in the
school of Puffendorf : Prout's_^sA will be found fresh and
substantial — not "blown," as happens too frequently ia the
literary market. "We have more than once acknowledged
the unsought and unpurchased plaudits of our contempora-
ries : but it is also to the imperishable verdict of posterity that
we ultimately look for a ratification of modern applause ;
with Cicero we exclaim— ' Memori^ vestr^, Quirites, nostrse
res vivent, sermonibus crescent, litterarum monumentis
veterascent et corroborabuntur!" Tes ! whUe the epheme-
ral writers of the day, mere bubbles on the surface of the
flood, will become extinct in succession, — while a few,
more lucky than their comrade dunces, may continue
for a space to swim with the aid of those vile bladders, news-
paper puffs, Father Prout will be seen floating triumphantly
down the stream of time, secure and buoyant in a genuine
" Cork "jacket.
"We owe it to the public to account for the delay experi-
enced in the transmission of the "chest" from "WatergrasshiH
to our hands. The fact is, that at a meeting of the parishioners
held on the subject (Mat Horrogan, of Blarney, in the
chair), it was resolved, " That Terry Callaghan, being a tall
and trustworthy man, able to do credit to the village in
London, and carry eleven stone weight (the precise tariff of
the trunk), should be sent at the public expense, j)ia Bristol,
with the coffer strapped to his shoulders, and plenty of the
wherewithal to procure ' refreshment ' on the western road,
mtil he should deliver the same at Mr. Fraser's, Eegent
Street, with the compliments of the parish." Terry, wisely
DEAN SWiri'S MADNESis 105
considering, like the Commissioners of the Deecan prize-
mone;^, that the occupation was too good a thing not to
make it last as long as possible, kept refreshing himself, at
the cost of the parochial committee, on the great western
road, and only arrived last week in Eegent Street. Having
duly stopped to admire Lady Aldborough's " round tower,"
set up to honour the Duke of York, and elbowed his way
through the " Squadrint," he at last made his appearance
at our office ; and when he had there discharged his load,
went off to take pot-luck with Peargus O'Connor.
Here, then, we are enabled, no longer deferring the pro-
mised boon, to lay before the public the first of the " Prout
Papers ;" breaking bulk, to use a seaman's phrase, and pro-
ducing at hazard a specimen of what is contained in the
coffer brought hither on the shoulders of tall and trust-
worthy Terry Callaghan.
" Pandere res altd Terrd et Caligine mersas.''
OLIVEE TOEKE.
■ Regent Street, \st July, 1834.
Watergrasshill, March 1B30^
Yet a few years, and a full century shall have elapsed since
the death of Dr. Jonathan Swift, Dean of St. Patrick's. Yes,
0 my friends ! if such I may presume to designate you into
whose hands, when I am gathered to the silent tomb, these
writings shall faU, and to whose kindly perusal I commend
them, bequeathing, at the same time, the posthumous bless-
iug of a feeble and toil-worn old man — yes, when a few win-
ters more shall have added to the accumulated snow of age
that weighs on the hoary head of the pastor of this upland,
and a short period shall have roUed on in the duU monotony
of these latter days, the centenary cycle will be fully com-
pleted, the secular anthem of dirge-like solemnity may be
sung, since the grave closed for ever on one whom Britain
i"u8tly reveres as the most upright, intuitive, and gifted of
ler sages ; and whom Ireland, when the frenzied hour of
strife shall have passed away, and the turbulence of parties
shall have subsided into a national calm, will hail with the
106 FATHER PEOTIT'S EELIQTTES.
rapture of returning reason, as the first, the best, the mighti-
est of her sons. The long arrears of gratitude to the only
true disinterested champion of her people wiU then be paid—
the long-deferred apotheosis of the patriot-divine will then
take place— the shamefuUy- forgotten debt of glory which the
lustre of his genius shed around his semi-barbarous country-
men will be deeply and feelingly remembered ; the old land-
mark of genuine worth wiU be discovered in the ebbing of
modem agitation, and due honour wiU be rendered by a
more enlightened age to the keen and scrutinizing philoso-
pher, the scanner of whate'er Kes hidden in the folds of the
human heart, the prophetic seer of coming things, the un-
sparing satirist of contemporary delinquency, the stern
Bhadamanthus of the political and of the literary world,
the star of a benighted land, the lance and the buckler of
Israel —
" We ne'er shall look upon hia like again."*
And stiU why must I recall (what I would fein ob-
literate) the ever-painful fact, — graven, alas ! too inde-
libly on the stubborn tablets of his biographers, chronicled
in the annals of the country, and, above all, firmly and
fatally established by the monumental record of hia own
philanthropic munificence, — the disastrous fact, that ere
this brilliant light of our island was quenched in death, to-
wards the close of the year 1745 — long before that sad
consummation, the flame had wavered wild and flickered fit-
fully in its lamp of clay, casting around shadows of ghastly
form, and soon assuming a strange and melancholy hue, that
made every well-wisher hail as a blessing the event of its
* Note in Prout's handwriting : " Doyle, of Carlow, faintly resembles
him. Bold, honest, disinterested, an able writer, a scholar, a gentle-
man J a bishop, too, in our church, with none of the shallow pedantry,
silly hauteur, arrant selfishness, and anile dotage, which may be some-
times covered, but not hidden, vmder a mitre. Swift demohshed, in his
day. Woods and his bad halfpence ; Doyle denounced Daniel and his
box of coppers. A proyisiou for the starving Irish was called for by
' the Dean,' and was sued for by ' J. K. L.' Alas ! when will the Go-
vernment awaken to the voice of our island's best and most enlightened
patriots ? Truly, it hath ' Moses and the prophets ' — doth the Legis-
lature wait until one come from the dead ?"
Doyle is since dead — but " defimctus adhuo loquitur !" — O. T.
BEAN swift's MADNESS. 107
final extinction in the cold and dismal vaults of St. Patrick's ?
In what mysterious struggle his gigantic intellect had been
cloven down, none could tell. But the evil genius of in-
sanity had clearly obtained a masterdom over faculties the
most powerful, and endowments the highest, that have fallen
to the lot of man.
We are told of occasional hours of respite from the fangs
of his tormenting daifjbm, — we learn of moments when the
" mens divinior" was suffered to go loose from its gaoler,
and to roam back, as it were on "parole," into the domi-
nions of reason, like the ghost of the murdered king, allow-
ed to revisit, for a brief space, the glimpses of our glorious
firmament, — but such gleams of mental enlightenment were
but few, and short in their duration. They were like the
fiash that is seen to illumine the wreck when all hope is
gone, and, fiercely bursting athwart the darkness, appears
but to seal the doom of the cargo and the mariners — inter-
vals of lugubrious transport, described by our native bard as
" That ecstasy which, from the depths of sadness,
G-lares like the maniac's moon, whose light is madneSs."
Alas ! full rapidly would that once clear and sagacious spirit
falter and relapse into the torpor of idiocy. ' His large, ex-
pressive eyes, rolling wUdly, would at times exhibit, as it
were, the inward working of his reason, essaying in vain to
cast off the nightmare that sat triumphant there, impeding
that current of thought, once so brisk and brilliant. Noble
and classic in the very writhings of delirium, and often
sublime, he would appear a living image of the sculptured
Laocoon, battling with a serpent that bad grasped, not the
body, but the mind, in its entangling folds. Tet m\ist we
repeat the sad truth, and again record in sorrow, that the
last two or three years of Jonathan Swift presented nothing
but the shattered remnants of what had been a powerfully
organized being, to whom it ought to have been allotted,
according to our faint notions, to carry unimpaired and un-
diminished into the hands of Him who gave such varied
gifts, and formed such a goodly intellect, the stores of
hoarded wisdom and the overflowing measure of talents well
employed : but such was not the counsel of an inscrutable
1.08 TATHEH PEOUT'S EELIQTJBS.
Providence, whose decree was to be fulfilled in the pros-
tration of a mighty understanding —
Aiog i' iTiXiim fSotjXrj.
And here let me pause — for a sadly pleasing reminiscence
steals across my mind, a recollection of youthful days. I
love to fix, in its flight, a transitory idea ; and I freely plead
the privilege of discursiveness conceded to the garrulity of
old age. When my course of early travel led me to wander
in search of science, and I sought abroad that scholastic
knowledge which was denied to us at home in those evU
days ; when, by force of legislation, I became, like others of
my clerical brethren, a " peripatetic" philosopher — ^like them
compelled to perambulate some part of Europe in quest of
proressional education, — the sunny provinces of southern
Prance were the regions of my choice ; and my first glean-
ings of literature were gathered on the banks of that mighty
stream so faithfully characterised by Burdigala's native poet
Ausonius, in his classic enumeration :
" Lentus Arar, KhodamisqiM celer, PEEHTTSque Q-AETrsoTA."
One day, a goatherd, who fed his shaggy flock along the
river, was heard by me, as, seated on the lofty bank, he gazed
on the shiuing flood, to sing a favourite carol of the country.
"Twas but a simple ballad ; yet it struck me as a neat illus-
tration of the ancient parallel between the flow of human
life and the course of the running waters ; and thus it
began:
" Salut ! O vieux fleuve, qui coulez par la plaine !
H^las ! un mfeme coure ioi bas nous entraine —
Egal est en tout notre sort :
Tou3 deux nous foumiBsouB la mtoe carri^re ;
Oar un m^me destiu nous rnhxe, O rivifere ! —
Vous h la mer ! nous k la mort !'
So sang the rustic minstrel. But it has occurred to me,
calmly and sorrowfully pondering on the fate of Swift, that
although this melancholy resemblance, so often alluded to in
Scriptural allegory, may hold good iu the general fortunes
of mankind, still has it been denied to some to complete ia
DEAN SWiri's MADNESS. 109
their personal history the sad similitude ; for not a few, and
these some of the most exalted of our species, have been
forbidden to glide into the Ocean of Eternity bringing
thereunto the fulness of their life-current with its brim-
ming banks undrained.
Who that has ever gazed on the glorious Ehine, coeval
in historic memory with the first CsBsar, and boasting much
previous traditionary renown, at the spot where it gushes
from its Alpine source, would not augur to it, with the poet,
an uninterrupted career, and an ever-growing volume of
copious exuberance ?
" Au pied du Mont Adulle, entre miUe roseaux,
Le Ehin tranquil, et fier du progres de ses eaus,
Appuy^ d'une main but son xvene penohante,
S'endort au bruit flatteur de son onde naiasante."
BoIIEATT.
Whence if it is viewed sweeping in brilliant cataracts through
many a mountain glen, and many a woodland scene, until it
glides from the realms of romance into the business of Ufe,
and forms the majestic boundary of two rival nations, con-
ferring benefits on both — reflecting from the broad expanse
of its waters anon the mellow vineyards of Johannisberg,
anon the hoary crags of Drachenfels — who then could
venture to foretell that so splendid an aUiance of usefulness
and grandeur was destined to be dissolved — that yon rich
flood would never gain that ocean into whose bosom a
thousand rivulets flow on with unimpeded gravitation, but
would disappear in the quagmires of Helvoetsluys, be lost
in the swamps of Manders, or absorbed in the sands of
Holland ? ^
Yet such is the course of the Ehine, and such was the
destiny of Swift, — of that man the outpourings of whose
abmidant mind fertilized alike the land of his fathers * and
the land of his birth : that man the very overflowings of
whose strange genius were looked on by his contemporaries
with deKght, and welcomed as the inundations of the Nile
are hailed by the men of Egypt.
* Prout supposes Swift to have been a natural son of Sir William
lemple, We believe him in error here. — O. T.
110 I'ATHEE PEOUT'S EBlIQrES.
A deep and hallowed motive impels me to select that last
and dreary period of his career for the subject of special
analysis ; to elucidate its secret history, and to examine it
in aU its bearings ; eliminating conjecture, and substituting
fact ; prepared to demolish the visionary superstructure of
hypothesis, and to place the matter on its simple basis of
truth and reality.
It is far from my purpose and far from my heart to tread
on such solemn ground save with becoming awe and with
feet duly unshodden. If, then, in the following pages, I
dare to unseal the long-closed well, think not that I seek to
desecrate the fountain : if it devolves on me to lift the veil,
fear not that I mean to profane the sanctuary : tarry until
this paper shaU have been perused to its close ; nor wUl it
fall from your grasp without leaving behind it a conviction
that its contents were braced by no unfriendly hand, and by
no unwarranted biographer : for if a bald spot were to be
found on the head of Jonathan Swift, the hand of Andrew
Prout should be the first to cover it with laurels.
There is a something sacred about insanity : the traditions
of every country agree in flinging a halo of mysterious dis-
tinction around the unhappy mortal stricken with so sad and
so lonely a visitation. The poet who most studied from
nature and least from books, the immortal Shakespeare, has
never made our souls thriU with more intense sympathy than
when his personages are brought before us bereft of the
guidance of reason. The grey hairs of King Lear are silvered
over with additional veneration when he raves ; and the
wild flower of insanity is the tenderest that decks the pure
garland of Ophelia. The story of Orestes has furnished'
Gfreek tragedy with its most powerful emotions ; and never
did the mighty Talma sway with more irresistible dominion
the assembled men of Prance, than when he personated the
fury-driven maniac of Euripides, revived on the French stage
by the muse of Voltaire. We know that among rude and
untutored nations madness is of rare occurrence, and its in-
stances few indeed. But though its frequency in more re-
fined and civUised society has taken away much of the
deferential homage paid to it in primitive times, still, in the
palmiest days of G-reek and Eoman illumination, the oracles
of Delphi found their fitting organ in the frenzy of the
BEAN swift's madness. Ill
Pythoness ; and througli such channels does the Latin lyrist
represent the Deity communicating with man :
■ quatit
Mentem saoerdotum inoola Pythius."
JBut let us look into our own breasts, and acknowledge that,
with all the fastidious pride of fancied superiority, and in
the full plenitude of our undimmed reason, we cannot face the
breathing ruin of a noble intellect undismayed. The broken
sounds, the vague intensity of that gaze, those whisperings
that seem to commune with the world of spirits, the play of
those features, still impressed with the signet of immortality,
though illegible to our eye, strike us with that awe which
the obelisk of the desert, with its insculptured riddles, in-
spires into the Arabian shepherd. An oriental opinion makes
such beings the favourites of Heaven : and the strong tinc-
ture of eastern ideas, so discernible on many points in Ire-
land, is here also perceptible ; for a born idiot among the
offspring of an Irish cabin is prized as a taraily palladium.
To contemplate what was once great and resplendent in
the eyes of man slowly mouldering in decay, has never been
an unprofitable exercise of thought ; and to muse over reason
itself fallen and prostrate, cannot fail to teach us our com-
plete deficiency. If to dwell among ruins and amid sepul-
chres—-to explore the pUlared grandeur of the tenantless
Palmyra, or the crumbling wreck of that Eoman amphi-
f theatre once manned with applauding thousands and rife
with joy, now overgrown with shrubs and haunted by the
owl— if to soliloquize in the valley where autumnal leaves
are thickly strewn, ever reminding us by their incessant
rustle, as we tread the path, " that all that's bright must
fade ;" — if these things beget that mood of soul in which
the suggestions of Heaven find readiest adoption, — how
forcibly must the wreck of mind itself, and the mournful
aberrations of that faculty by which most we assimilate to
our Maker, humble our self-sufficiency, and bend down our
spirit in adoration ! It is in truth a sad bereavement, a dis-
severing of ties long cherished, a parting scene melancholy
to witness, when the ethereal companion of this clay takes
its departure, an outcast from the earthly coil that it once
animated with iateUectual fire, and wanders astray, cheerless
112 FATHEE PEOTTt'S EELIQTTES.
and friendless, beyond the picturings of poetry to describe;—
a picture realised in Swift, who, more than Adrian, was en-
titled to exclaim :
" ATn'mula vagiila, blandula, " Wee soul, fond rambler, -whitlier, say,
Hospes comesque corporis, WMther, boon comrade, fleest away?
Quffl nmic abibis in loca? Ill canst thou bear the bitter blast —
Pallidula, rigida, nudula, Houseless, unclad, affright, aghast ;
Ifec, ut soles, dabisjocosl" Jocundnomore! and hush'd the mirth
That gladden'd oft the sons of earth!"
Nor unloath am I to confess that such contemplations have
■won upon me in the decline of years. Youth has its appro-
priate pursuits ; and to him who stands on the threshold of
life, with aU its gaieties and festive hours spread in alluring
blandishment before him, such musings may come amiss,
and such studies may offer no attraction. We are then eager
to mingle in the crowd of active existence, and to mix with
those who swarm and jostle each other on the molehill of
this world —
" Towered cities please us then.
And the busy hum of men !"
But to me, numbering fourscore years, and full tired of the
frivolities of modem wisdom, metaphysical inquiry returns
with all its charms, fresh as when first I courted, in the
halls of Sorbonne, the science of the soul. On this barren
hill where my lot is fallen, in that " sunset of life " which is
said to " bring mystical lore," I love to investigate subjects
such as these.
" And may my lamp, at midnight hour,
Be seen in some high, lonely tower,
Seeking, with Plato, to unfold
What realms or what vast regions hold
Th' immortal soul that hath forsook
Its mansion in this fleshy nook !
And may, at length, my weary age
Knd out some peaceful hermitage.
Till old experience doth attain
To something like prophetic strain !"
To fix the precise limits where sober reason's well-regu-
lated dominions end, and at what bourne the wild region of
the fanciful commences, extending in many a tract of length-
ened wilderness until it joins the remote and volcanic tern-
BEAN swift's MADITESS. 113
tory of downright insanity, — were a task wHch the most
deeply-read psychologist might attempt in vain. Hopeless
would be the endeavour to settle the exact confines ; for no-
where is there so much debateable ground, so much un-
marked frontier, so much \indetermined boundary. The
degrees of longitude and latitude have never been laid down,
nor, that I learn, ever calculated at all, for want of a really
sensible solid man to act the part of a first meridian. The
same remark is applicable to a congenial subject, viz. that
state of the human frame akin to insanity, and called intoxi-
cation ; for there are here also various degrees of intensity ;
and where on earth (except perhaps in the person of my
friend Dick Dowden,) will you find, kolto, (ppiva km xara
6uf/,ov a SOBEE man, according with the description in a hymn
of our church liturgy ?
" Qui pius, prudens, humilU, pudiens,
Sobriam duxit sine labe vitain,
Ponec humanos leris afflat aui^
Spiritus ignes."
Ea; officio Brev. Rom. de eommuni Conf, non
Pont, ad vesperas.
I remember well, when in 1815 the present Lord Chan-
cellor (then simple Harry Brougham) came to this part of
the country (attracted hither by the fame of our Blarney-
stone), having had the pleasure of his society one summer
evening in this humble dwelling, and conversing with him
long and loudly on the topic of inebriation. He had certainly
taken a drop extra, but perhaps was therefore better quali-
fied for debating the subject, viz. at what precise point Srunk-
enness sets in, and what is the exact low water-ma/rk. He first
advocated a three-hottle system, but enlarged" his view of the
question as he went on, until he reminded me of those spirits
described by Milton, who sat apart on a hiU retired, discussi
ing freewill, fioeed fate, foreknowledge absolute,
" Aad found no end, in wandering mazes lost !"
My idea of the matter was very simple, although I had some
trouble in bringing him round to the true understanding
of things ; for he is obstinate by nature, and, Uke the village
Hchoolmaster, whom he has sent " abroad,"
" Even though vanquished, he can argue still."
I
114 PATHEE PEOITT'S EELIQTTES.
I shewed him that the poet Lucretius, in his elaborate work
" De NatuTEl Eerum," had long since established a criterion,
or standard — a sort of clepsydra, to ascertain the final de-
parture of sobriety, — being the well-known phenomenon of
reduplication in the visual orb, that sort of second-sight
common among the Scotch :
" Bina luoemarum flagrantia lumina flammis,
Et dupHoes hominam vnltus et corpora bina !"
Lttckeiius, lib. iv. 452.
But, unfortunately, just as I thought I had placed my opinions
in their most luminous point of view, I found that poor
Harry was completely fuddled, so as to be unconscious of all
I could urge during the rest of the evening ; for, as Tom
Moore says in ' Lalla Eookh,'
" the delicate chain
Of thought, once tangled, could not clear again."
It has long ago been laid down as a maxim by Seneca, that
•' nullum magnum ingenium sine mixture insanise." Newton
was decidedly mad when he wrote his comment onEevelations;
BO, I think, wa's Napier of the logarithms, when he achieved a
similar exploit ; Burns was more than once labouring under
delirium, of the kind called tremens ; Tasso was acquainted
with the cells of a madhouse ; Nathaniel Lee,* the dramatist,
* This fact concerning Lee I stumbled on in that olla podrida, the
" Curiosities of Literature," of the elder D'Israeli. In his chapter on
the " Medicine of the Mind," (toI. i. second series : Murray, 1823), I
find a passage which tells for my theory ; and I therefore insert it here,
on the principle of je prends man Men partout oitje le trouve : " Plutarch
says, in one of his essays, that should the body sue the mind in a court
of judicature for damages, it would be found that the mindwould prove
to have been a most ruinous tenant to its landlord." This idea seemed
to me so ingenious, that I searched for it through all the metaphysical
writings of the Boeotian sage ; and I find that Demooritus, the laughing
philosopher, first made the assertion about the Greek law of landlord and
tenant retailed byhimofCheronsea: Oijiai naKiaTaTov ^rjfioicptTov nirtiv,
U}Q H TO tTiiifia diKaffaiTo Tig ^v^yt KaKWffEWf ovk av auTrjv a:ro0uysi»/.
Theophrastus enlarges on the same topic : Ofo^paffroj aXtiBeg ein-tv,
vo\v Ttf uiafiaTi TiKttv evoiKiov Trjv i//v%?)V. llktiova fjtsvTOi to ffwfia
T7JQ ipv^VS airaXavsi icaieat fJtri Kara Xoyov airr^ xP^t^^^og. See the
magnificent edition of Plutarch's Moral Treatises, from the Clarendon
press of Oxford, 1795, being nAOYT. TA HBIKA, torn. i. p. 375.—
Pboct.
DEAN SWIPT'S MADNESS. 115
when a tenant of Bedlam, wrote a tragedy twenty-five acts
long ; and Sophocles was accused before the tribunal of the
(ppuTpia, and only acquitted of insanity by the recitation of
his (Edip. Colon. Pascal was a miserable hypochondriac ; the
poet Oowper and the philosopher Eousaeau were subject to
lunacy ; Luis de Camoens died raving in an hospital at Lis-
bon ; and, in an hospital at Madrid, the same fate, with the
same attendant madness, closed the career of the author of
"Don Quixote," the immortal Miguel Cervantes. Shelley
was mad outright ; and Byron's blood was deeply tainted
with maniacal infusion. His uncle, the eighth lord, had been
the homicide of his kindred, and hid hi^ remorse in the
dismal cloisters of JSTewstead. He himself enumerates three
of his maternal ancestors who died by their own hands. Last
February (1830), Miss Milbanke, in the book she has put
forth to the world, states her belief and that of her advisers,
that " the Lord Byron was actually iasane." And in Dr.
MUlingen's book (the Surgeon of the Suliote brigade) we
find these words attributed to the CMlde : " I picture myself
slowly expiring on a bed of torture, or terminating my days,
like Swift, a grinning idiot." — Anecdotes ofByron'a Illness and
Death, ly Julius Milmngen, p. 120. — London.
Strange to say, few men have been more exempt from the ■
usual exciting causes of insanity than Swift. If ambition,
vanity, avarice, intemperance, and the fury of sexual
passion, be the ordinary determining agents of lunacy, then
should he have proudly defied the approaches of the evil
spirit, and withstood his attacks. As for ambitious cravings,
it is well known that he sought not the smiles of the court,
nor ever sighed for ecclesiastical dignities. Though a church-
man, he had none of the crafty, aspiring, and intriguing
mania of a "Wolsey or a Mazarin. By the boldness and can.
dour of his vwitings, he effectually put a stop to that ecclesi-
astical preferment which the low-minded, the cunning, and
the hypocrite, are sure to obtain : and of him it might be
truly said, that the doors of clerical promotion closed while
the gates of glory opened.
But even ghry (mystic word !), has it not its fascinations,
too powerful at times even for the eagle eye of genius, and
capable of dimming for ever the inteUectual orb that gazea
too fixedly on its irradiance ? How often has splendid
116 TATHBE PEOTJT'S EELIQUES.
talent been its own executioner, and the best gift of Heaven
supplied the dart that bereft its possessor of all that maketh
Existence valuable ! The very intensity of those feelingz
which refine and elevate the soul, has it not been found to
operate the work of ruin ?
" Twaa thine own geniu3 gare the final blow.
And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low.
So the struck eagle, streteh'd upon the plain,
No more through rolling clouds to soar again,
Views his own feather on the fatal dart
Which wing'd the shaft that quivers in his heart.
Keen are his pangs, but keener far to feel
He nursed tl\e pinion that impeU'd the steel ;
While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest
Drinks the last He-drop of his bleeding breast."
So Byron sings in his happiest mood ; and so had sung be-
fore him a young French poet, who died in early life, worn
out by his own fervour :
" Oui, I'homme ioi has aux talents condamn^,
Sur la terre en passant sublime infortun^,
Ne peut impun^ment aohever une vie
Que le Ciel surchargea du fardeau du genie !
Souvent U meurt bral6 de ces celestes feux . , .
Tel quelquefois I'oiseau du souverain des dieux,
L'aigle, tombe du haut des plaines immortelles,
Brile dufoudre ardent qu'il portait sous sea ailes .'"
CKEKEVOLht.
I am fully aware that in Swift's case there was a common
rumour among his countrymen ia Ireland at the time, that
over-study and too much learning had disturbed the equi-
librium of the doctor's brain, and unsettled the equipoise of
his cerebellum. The " most noble " Pestus, who was a weU-
bred Italian gentleman, fell into the same vulgar error long
ago with respect to St. Paul, and opined that much Hteratuie
had made of him a madman ! But surely such a sad con-
fusion of materialism and spiritualism as that misconception
implies, will not require refutation. The villagers iu Q-old-
smith's beautiful poem may have been excusable for adopt-
ing so unscientific a theory ; but beyond the sphere of rustic
sages the hypothesis is intolerable :
" And still they gazed, and stiU their wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew !"
BEAir SWirT'S MADNESS. 117
How can the ethereal and incorporate stores of knowledge
become a physical weight, and turn out an incumbrance
exercising undue pressure on the human brain ? — how can
mental acquirement be described as a body ponderous ?
"What foUy to liken the crevices of the cerebral gland to the
fissures in an old barn bursting with the riches of a collected
harvest ! — rwperimt horrea messes — or to the crazy bark of
old Charon, when, being only iitted for the light waftage of
ghosts, it received the bulky personage of the JEneid :
" G-emuit Bub pondere oymba !
Sutilis, ao multam accepit rimoBa paludem." — Lib. vi.
Away with such fantasies ! The more learned we grow,
the better organised is our mind, the more prejudices we
shake off ; and the stupid error which I combat is but a pre-
text and consolation for ignorance.
The delusions of love swayed not the stem mind of the
Dean of St. Patrick's, nor could the frenzy of passion ever
overshadow his clear understanding. Like a bark gliding
along a beautiful and regular canal, the soft hand of woman
could, with a single riband, draw him onward in a fair and
well-ordered channel ; but to drag him out of his course into
any devious path, it was not in nature nor the most potent
fascination to accomplish. Stella, the cherished companion
of his life, his secretly wedded bride, ever exercised a mUd
influence over his affections —
" And rose, where'er he turned hia eye,
The morning star of memory."
But his acquaintanceship with Vanessa (Mrs. Vanhomrigg)
was purely of that description supposedto have been introduced
by Plato. Por my part, having embraced celibacy, I am
perhaps little qualified for the discussion of these delicate
matters ; but I candidly confess, that never did Goldsmith
BO vrin upon my good opinion, by his superior knowledge of
those recondite touches that ennoble the favourite character
of a respectable divine, as when he attributes severe and
uncompromising tenets of monogamy to Dr. Primrose, vicar
of Wakefield; that being the next best state to the one
118 FATHEB PEOTJt's EELIQUES.
which I have adopted myself, in accordance with the Flatonio
philosophy of Virgil, and the example of Paul ;
" Quique saeerdotea casti, dum vita manebat ;
Quique pii rates, et Phcebo digna loeuti ;
Omnibus his nired cinguntur tempera vitA !"
^mid. VI.
The covetousness of this world had no place in the breast
of Swift, and never, consequently, was his mind liable to be
shaken from its basis by the inroads of that overwhelming
vice, avarice. Broad lands and manorial possessions he
never sighed for ; and, as Providence had granted him a
competency, he could well adopt the resignation of the poet,
and exclaim, " Nil amplius oro." Nothing amused him more
than the attempt of his friend Doctor Delany to excite his
jealousy by the ostentatious display of his celebrated viQa,
which, as soon as purchased, he invited the Dean to come
and admire. We have the humorous lines of descriptive
poetry which were composed by Swift on the occasion, and
were well calculated to destroy the doctor's vanity. The
estate our satirist represents as liable to suffer " an eclipse
of the sun " wherever " a crow " or other small opaque
body should pass between it and that luminary. The plan-
tations " might possibly supply a toothpick ;"
" And the stream that's called ' Meander
Might be sucked up by a gander !"
Such were the sentiments of utter derision with which lie
contemplated the territorial aggrandisement so dear to the
votaries of Mammon ; nor is it foreign from this topic to
remark, that the contrary extreme of hopeless poverty not
having ever fallen to his lot, one main cause of insanity ia
high minds was removed. Tasso went mad through sheer
distress and its concomitant shame ; the fictions of his ro-
mantic love for a princess of the Court of Ferrara are all
fudge : he had at one time neither fire nor a decent coat to
his back ; and he tells us that, having no lamp in his garret,
he resorted to his cat to lend him the glare of her eyes :
" Non avendo candele per iacrivere i suoi versi !"
Intemperance and debauchery never mterfered with the
DEAN SWIEt'S MADNESS. 119
quiet tenour of the Dean's domestic habits ; and hence the
medical and constitutional causes of derangement flowing
from these sources must be considered as null in this case.
I have attentively perused the best record extant of his
private hfe — his pwn " Journal to Stella," detailing his
sojourn in London ; and I find his diet to have been such as
I coidd have wished.
" London, Oct. 1711. — Mrs. Vanhomrigg has changed her
lodgings — I dined with her to-day. I am growing a mighty
lover of herrings ; but they are much smaller here than with
you. In the afternoon I visited an old major-general, and
ate six oysters." — Letter 32, p. 384, in Scott's edition of Swift.
" I was invited to-day to diue with Mrs. Vanhomrigg,
with some company who did not come ; but I ate nothing
but herrings." — Same letter, p. 388.
" Oct. 23, 1711. I was forced to be at the secretary's
office till four, and lost my dinner. So I went to Mrs.Van's,
and made them get me three herrings, which I am veryfondof.
And they are a light victuals" (sic. in orig.) — Letter 33, p. 400.
He further shews the lively interest he always evinced
for fish diet by the following passage, which occurs in a pub-
lication of his printed in Dublin, 1732, and entitled " An
Examination of Certain Abuses, Corruptions, and Enormi-
ties in this City of DubHn. By Dr. Jonathan Swift, D.D."
" The afiirmation solemnly made in the cry of Herrings !
is agaiust all truth, viz. ' Herrings aUve, ho !' The very pro-
verb will convince us of this ; for what is more frequent in
ordinary speech than to say of a neighbour for whom the
beU tolls, He is dead as a herring ! And pray, how is it
possible that a herring, which, as philosophers observe, can-
not live longer than one minute three seconds and a half
out of water, shoxdd bear a voyage in open boats from
Howth to Dublin, be tossed into twenty hands, and preserve
its life in sieves for several hours ?"
The sense of Igneliness consequent on the loss of friends,
and the wdthdrawal of those whose companionship made life
pleasant, is not unfrequently the cause of melancholy mono-
mania ; but it could not have affected Swift, whose residence
ia Dublin had estranged him long previously from those
who at that period died away. Gay, his bosom friend, had
died in December, 1732 ; Boliagbroke had retired to France
120 I'ATHEB PBOTTT'S EEMQrES.
in 1734 ; Pope was become a hypochondriac from bodily in-
firmities ; Dr. Axbuthnot was extinct ; and he, the admirer
and the admired of Swift, John of Blenheim, the Ulustrioua
Maxlborongh, had preceded him in a madhouse !
" Down Marlborough's cheeks the tears of dotage flow."
A lunatic asylum was the last refuge of the warrior, — if, in-
deed, he and his fellows of the conquering fraternity were
not candidates for it all along iatrinsically and profes-
sionally,
" ibrom Macedonian's madman to the Swede."
Thus, although the Dean might have truly felt like one who
treads alone some deserted banquet-hall (according to the
beautiful simile of the Melodist), still we cannot, with the
slightest semblance of probability, trace the outbreak of his
madness to any sympathies of severed friendship.
If Swift ever nourished a predominant affection — if he
was ever really under the dominion of a ruling passion, it
was that of pure and disinterested love of country; and were
he ever liable to be hurried into insane excess by any over-
powering enthusiasm, it was the patriot's madness that had
the best chance of prostrating his mighty soul. His works
are the imperishable proofs of the sincere and enlightened
attachment which he bore an island connected with him by
no hereditary recollections, but merely by the accident of
his birth 'at Cashel.
We read in the sacred Scriptures (Eccles. Ixxvii.), that
" the sense of oppression maketh a man mad ;" and whoso-
ever will peruse those splendid effusions of a patriot soul,
"the Story of an injured Lady" (Dublin, 1725), "Maxims
controlled in Ireland " (Dublin, 1724), " Miserable State of
Ireland " (Dublin, 1727), must arise from the perusal im-
pressed with the integrity and fervour of the Dean's love of
his oppressed country. The " Maxims controlled " develop,
according to that highly competent authority, Edmund
Burke, the deepest and most statesmansUke views ever taken
ofthe mischievous mismanagement that has constantly marked
England's conduct towards her sister island. In the "Miser-
able State, &c., we have evidence that the wretched peasantry
at that time was at just the same stage 'of civilizatiou and
BEAU- swift's IJABNESS. 121
Comfort as tliej are at the present day ; for we find tho
Dean thus depicting a state of things which none but an
Irish landlord could read without blushing for human nature —
" There are thousands of poor creatures who thinkthemselvea
blessed if they can obtain a hut worse than the squire's dog-
kennel, and a piece of ground for potato-plantation, on con-
dition of being as very slaves as any in America, starving in
the midst of plenty." I\irther on, he informs us of a sin-
gular item of the then traffic of the Irish : — " Our fraiidu-
lent trade in wool to Erance is the best branch of our
commerce."
And in his " Proposal for the Use of Irish Manufactures,"
which was prosecuted by the government of the day, and
described by the learned judge who sent the ease to the jury
as a plot to bring in the Pretender ! we have this wool-
traffic again alluded to : " Our beneficial export of wool to
France has been our only support for several years : we con-
vey our wool there, in spite of aU the harpies of the custom-
house." In this tract, he introduces the story of Pallas and
the nymph Arachne, whom the goddess, jealous of her spin-
ning, changed into a spider; and beautifully applies the
allegory to the commercial restrictions imposed by the sister-
country on Ireland. " Arachne was allowed still to spin ;
but Britain wiU. take our bowels, and comfert them into the
web and warp of her own exclusive and intolerant in-
dustry."
Of the " Drapier's Letters," and the signal discomfiture
of the base-currency scheme attempted by William Woods,
it were superfluous to speak. Never was there a more bare-
faced attempt to swindle the natives than the copper impo-
sition of that notorious hardwareman ; and the only thing
that in modem times can be placed in juxtaposition, is the
begging-box of O'ConneU. O for a Drapier to expose that
second and most impudent scheme for victimising a deluded
and starving peasantry !
The Scotch rebeUion of 1745 found the Dean an inmate
of his last sad dwelling — ^his ovm hospital ; but the crisis
awakened all his energies, and he found an interval to pub-
lish that address to his fellow-countrymen which some at-
tributed to the Lord-Lieutenant Chesterfield, but which
bears intrinsic evidence of his pen. It is printed by Sir
122 TATHER PEOn's EBLIQrES.
"W. Scott, in the appendix of the " Drapier's Letters."
There is a certain chemical preparation called sympathetie
ink, which leaves no trace on the paper ; but if applied to
the heat of a fire, the characters will become at once legible.
Such was the state of Swift's soul — a universal blank ; but
when brought near the sacred flame that burnt on the altar
of his country, his mind recovered for a time its clearness,
and found means to communicate its patriotism. Touch
but the interests of Ireland, and the madman was sane
again ; such was the mysterious nature of the visitation.
" O Keason ! who shall say what spells renew, •
When least we look for it, thy broken clue ;
Through what small vistas o'er the darken'd brain
The intellectual daybeam bursts again !
Enough to shew the maze in which the sense
Wandered about, but not to guide thee hence —
Enough to glimmer o'er the yawning wave,
But not to point the harbour which might save !"
When Eichard Coeur de Lion lay dormant ia a dungeon,
the voice of a song which he had known in better days came
uponhisear,andwas themeans of leading himforthto light and
freedom ; but, alas ! Swift was not led forth from his lonely
dwelling by the note of long-remembered music, the anthem
of fatherland. Gloomy insanity had taken too permanent
possession of his mind ; and right well did he know that he
should die a maniac. For this, a few years before his death,
did he build unto himself an asylum, where his own lunacy
might dwell protected from the vulgar gaze of mankind. He
felt the approach of madness, and, like Csesar, when about
to fall at the feetof Pompey's statue, he gracefully arranged
the folds of his robe, conscious of his own dignity even in
that melancholy downfal. The Pharaohs, we are told ia
Scripture, built unto themselves gorgeous sepulchres : theii
pyramids stiU encumber the earth. Sardanapalus erected a
pyre of cedar-wood and odoriferous spices when death was
inevitable, and perished in a blaze of voluptuousness. The
asylum of Swift will remain a more characteristic memorial
than the sepulchres of Egypt, and a more honourable fune-
real pyre than that heaped up by the Assyrian king. He
died mad, among feUow- creatures similarly visited, but
sheltered by his munificence ; and it now devolves on me
BEAN swift's MADNESS. 123
to reveal to the world the unknown cause of that sad
calamity.
I have stated that his affections were centered in that ac-
complished woman, the refined and gentle Stella, to whom
he had been secretly married. The reasons for such secrecy,
though perfectly familiar to me, may not be divulged ; but
enough to know that the Dean acted in this matter with his
usual sagacity. An infant son was born of that marriage
after many a lengthened year, and in this child were con-
centrated aU the energies of the father's affection, and all
the BensibHities of the mother's heart. In him did the Dean
fondly hope to live on when his allotted days should fail,
like unto the self-promised immortality of the bard — " JSTon
omnis moriar, multaque pars mei vitabit Libitinam !" How
vain are the hopes of man ! That child most unaccountably,
most mysteriously disappeared ; no trace, no clue, no shadow
6f conjecture, could point out what had become its destiny,
and who were the contrivers of this sorrowful bereavement.
The babe was gone ! and no comfort remained to a despond-
ing father in this most poignant of human afflictions.
In a copy of Verses composed on his own Death, the Dean
indulges in a humorous anticipation of the motives that
would not fail to be ascribed, as determining his mind to
make the singular disposal of his property which (after the
loss of his only child) he resolved on :
" He gave the little wealth he had
To build a house for people mad,
To shew, by one satiric touch,
No nation wanted it so much."
But this bitter pleasantry only argued the sad inroads which
grief was making in his heart. The love of ofispiing, which
the Greeks caU tfro^yj) (and which is said to be strongest
in the stork), was eminently perceptible in the diagnosis
of the Dean's constitution. Sorrow for the loss of his child
bowed down his head eventually to the grave, and unsettled
a mind the most clear and well-regulated that philosophy
and Christianity could form.
These papers will not meet the ptjblio ete untiit
I too am no MOEE • BtTT WHEN THAT DAT SHALL COMB —
124 FATHEE PEOri'S BELIQUES.
WHEN THE PASTOE OE THIS OBSOTJEE TTPIAKD SHALL, IN A
GOOD OLD AGE, BE LAID IK THE EAETH — WHEN NEITHEE
PEIDE OE BIETH NOE HITMAN APPLAUSE OAN MOTE THE
COLD EAE OE THE DEAD, THE SEOEET OE THAT CHILD'S
HISTOET, OE SwIET'S LONG-LOST CHILD, SHALL BE TOLD ;
AND THE OLD MAN WHO HAS DEPAETBD EEOM THIS WOELD
OE WOE IN PEACE, WILL BE EODND TO HATE BEEN THAT
lONG-SOTIGHT SON, WHOM "WlLLIAM WoODS, IN THE BASE-
NESS OE A TILE TINDICTITENESS, EILCHED EEOM A EATHBE'S
AEEECTI0N3.
BaiSed in his wicked contrivances by my venerable father,
and foiled in every attempt to brazen' out his notorious scheme
of bad halfpence, this vile tinker, nourishiag an implacable
resentment in his soul,
' iEtemum servana sub peotore vukius,"
resolved to wreak his vengeance on the Dean ; and sought
out craftily the most sensitive part to inflict the contem-
plated wound. In the evening of October, 1741, he kid-
napped me. Swift's innocent child, from my nurse at Grlen-
dalough, and fraudulently hurried off his capture to the
extremity of Munster ; where he left me exposed as a found-
ling on the bleak summit of "Watergrasshill. The reader
wiU easily imagine all the hardships I had to encounter ia
this my first and most awkward introduction to my future
parishioners. Often have I told the sorrowful tale to my
college companion in Trance, the kind-hearted and sensi-
tive Gresset, who thus alludes to me iu the weU-known lines
of his " Lutrin Vivant :"
" Bt puis, d'ailleurs, le petit mallieureux,
Ouvrage n^ d'un auteur anonyme,
Ne oonnaisaant parens, ni legitime,
If arait, en tout dans oe sterile lien.
Pour se chauffer que la grace de Dieu !"
Some are born, says the philosophic Q-oldsmith, with a
silver spoon ia their mouth, some with a wooden ladle ; but
wretched I was not left by Woods even that miserable im-
plement as a stock-in-trade to begin the world. Moses lay
ensconced in a snug cradle of bulrushes when he was sent
adrift ; but I was cast on the flood of life with no equipage
BEAW s-vvift's madness. 125
or outfit whatever ; and found myself, to use tte solemn
language of my Lord Byron,
" Sent afloat
With nothing but the sty for a great poat."
But stop, I mistake. I had an appendage round my neck
— a trinket, which I still cherish, and by which I eventually
found a clue to my real patronage.. It was a small locket
of my mother Stella's hair, of raven black, (a distinctive
feature in her beauty, which had especially captivated the
Dean) : around this locket was a Latin motto of my gifted
father's composition, three simple words, but beautiful in
their simplicity — " pbgtjt stelia ebetilges !" So that,
when I was taken into the " Cork Foundling Hospital," I
was at once christened " Prout," from the adverb that begins
the sentence, and which, being the shortest word of the-
three, it pleased the chaplain to make my future patro-
nymic.
Of all the singular institutions in G-reat Britain, philan-
thropic, astronomic, Hunterian, ophthalmic, obstetric, or
zoological, the " Eoyal Cork Foundling Hospital," where I
had the honour of matriculating, was then, and is now, de-
cidedly the oddest in principle and the most comical in prac-
tice. Until the happy and eventful day when I managed,
by mother-wit, to accomplish my deliverance from its walls,
(having escaped in a churn, as I will recount presently), it
was my unhappy lot to witness and to endure all the va-
rieties of human misery. The prince of Latin song, when
he wishes to convey to his readers an idea of the lower
regions and the abodes of Erebus, begins his affecting pic-
ture by placing in the foreground the souls of infants taken
by the mischievous policy of such institutions from the
mother's breast, and perishing by myriads under the inflic-
tion of a mistaken philanthropy :
" Infantumque animse flentea in lumine primo :
Quos dulois vitse eisortes, et ab ubere raptos,
Abstulit atra dies, et funere mersit acerbo."
The inimitable and philosophic Scarron's translation of this
passage in the JEneid is too much in my father's own style
not to give it insertion :
126 FATHEE PEOrT'S EELIQUES.
" Lors il entend, en oe lieu sombre,
Lea oris aiguB d'enfants sans nombre.
Pauvres bambins ! ils font grand bruit,
Et braillent de jour et de n\ut —
Peut-tee faute de nourrioe ?" &o. &e.
Eneid iravett. 6.
But if I had leisure to dwell on the melancholy subject, I
could a tale unfold that would startle the Legislature, and
perhaps arouse the Irish secretary to examine into an evil
crying aloud for redress and suppression. Had my perse-
.cutor, the hard-hearted coppersmith, Woods, had any notion
of the sufferings he entailed on Swift's luckless infant, he
would never have exposed me as an enfant trouvi ; he would
have been satisfied with plunging my father into a mad-
house, without handing over his child to the mercies of a
foundling hospital. Could he but hear my woful story, I
would engage to draw " copper" tears down the villain's
cheek.
Darkness and mystery have for the last half century hung
over this establishment ; and although certain returns
have been moved for in the House of Commons, the public
knows as little as ever about the fifteen hundred young
foundlings that there nestle until supplanted, as death col-
lects them under his wings, by a fresh supply of victims
offered to the Moloch of -vJ/EuSo-philanthropy. Horace tells
us, that certain proceedings are best not exhibited to the
general gaze —
" Neo natoa coram populo Medea trucidet."
Such would appear to be the policy of these institutions,
the only provision which the Legislature has made for L-ish
pauperism.
Some steps, however, have been taken latterly by Govern-
ment ; and from a paper laid before Parliament last month
(May 1830), it appears that, in consequence of the act of
1822, the annual admissions in Dublin have fallen from 2000
to 400. But who will restore to society the myriads whoia,, ,
the system has butchered ? who will recall the slain ? When
the flower of Eoman chivalry, under improvident guidance,
fell in the Glerman forests, " Varus, give back my legions !"
DEAN swift's MADNESS. 127
was the frantic cry wrung from the bitterness of patriotic
sorrow.
My illustrious father has written, among other bitter sar-
casms on the cruel conduct of Government towards the
Irish poor, a treatise, which was priated in 1729, and which
he entitled " A Modest Proposal for preventing Poor Chil-
dren from being a Burden to their Parents." He recom-
mends, in sober sadness, that they should be made into salt
provisions for the navy, the colonies, and for exportation ;
or eaten fresh and spitted, like roasting-pigs, by the alder-
men of Cork and Dublin, at their civic banquets. A quo-
tation from that powerful pamphlet may not be unaccept-
able here :
" Infant's flesh (quoth the Dean) will be in season through-
out the year, but more plentifully in March, or a little be-
fore ; for we are told by a grave author, an eminent Preneh
physician, that fish being a prolific diet, there are more chil-
dren born in Eoman Catholic countries about nine months
after Lent than at any other season. Therefore, reckoning
a year after Lent, the markets will be more glutted than
usual, because the number of Popish infants is at least three
to one in the kingdom ; and therefore it wiU have one othei
collateral advantage, by lessening the number of Papists
amongst us."
These lines were clearly penned in the very gall and bit-
terness of his soul ; and while the Irish peasant is still con-
sidered by the miscreant landlords of the country as less
worthy of his food than the beasts of the field, and less
entitled to a legal support in the land that bore him ; while
the selfish demagogue of the island joins in the common
hostility to the claims of that pauper who makes a stock-
purse for him out of the scrapings of want and penury ;
the proposal of Swift should be reprinted, and a copy sent
to every callous and shallow-pated disciple of modem poli-
tical economy. Poor-laws, forsooth, they cannot reconcile
to their clear-sighted views of Irish legislation ; fever hos-
pitals and gaols they admire ; grammar-schools they vaU ad-
vocate, where half-starved urchins may drink the physic of
the soul, and forget the cravings of hunger ; and they vrill
provide in the two great foundling hospitals a receptacle for
troublesome infants, who, in those " white-washed sepul-
128 I'ATHEE PEO tit's EELIQtJES.
chres," soon cease to be a burden on the communiiy. The
great agitator, meantime (Grod wot !) will bring in " a bill "
for a grand national cemetery in Dublin :* such is the pro-
vision he deigns to seek for his starving fellow-countrymen !
" The great have still some faTour in reserve —
They help to bury whom they help to starve."
The Dublin Hospital being supported out of the consoli-
dated fund, has, by the argumentum ad crumenam, at last
attracted the suspicions of government, and is placed under
a course of gradual reduction ; but the Cork nursery is up-
held by a compulsory local tax on coal, amounting to the
incredible sum of £6000 a-year, and levied on the unfor-
tunate Corkonians for the support of children brought into
their city from Wales, Connaught, and the four winds of
heaven ! Three hundred bantlings are thus annually saddled
on the beautiful city, with a never-failing succession of con-
tinuous supply :
" Miranturque novas frondes, et non sua poma !"
By the Irish act of Parliament, these young settlers are
entitled, on coming of age (which few do), to claim as a
right the freedom of that ancient and loyal corporation ; so
that, although of the great bulk of them it may be said
that we had "no band in their birth," they have the bene-
fit of their coming — " a place in the commonwealth" (ita
Shakespeare).
My sagacious father used to e:^ort his countrymen to
burn every article that came from England, except coals ;
and in 1729 he addressed to the " Dublin Weekly Journal"
a series of letters on the use of Irish coals exclusively. But
it strikes me that, as confessedly we cannot do without the
English article in the present state of trade and manufac-
tures, the most mischievous tax that any Irish seaport could
be visited with, would be a tonnage on so vital a commodity
to the productive interests of the community. Were this
vUe impost withdrawn from Cork, every class of manufac-
ture would hail the boon ; the iron foundry would supply
us at home with what is now brought across the Channel ;
the glassblower's furnace would glow with inextipguishable
fires ; the steam engine, that giant power, as yet bo feebly
* Historical fact. Vide pari, proceedings. — O. Xl
DEATT STViri'S MADITESS. 129
developed among us, woiild delight to wield on our betalf,
its energies unfettered, and toil unimpeded for the national
prosperity ; new enterprize would inspirit the capitalist ;
while the humble artificer at the forge would learn the
tidings with satisfaction, —
" Eelax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear."
Somethiag too much of this. But I have felt it incum-
bent on me to place on record my honest conviction of the
impolicy of the tax itself, and of the still greater enormity
of the evil which it goes to support. To return to my own
history.
In this " hospital," which was the first alma mater of my
juvenile days, I graduated in all the science of the young
gipsies who swarmed around me. My health, which was
naturally robust, bore up against the fearful odds of mor-
tality by which I was beset ; and although I should have
ultimately, no doubt, perished with the crowd of infant suf-
ferers that shared my evil destiny, still, like that favoured
Grecian who won the good graces of .Polyphemus in his an-
thropophagous cavern, a signal privilege , would perhaps
have been granted me : Prout wotud .have, been the last to
be devoured. .. ; ..
But a ray of light broke into my prison-hcpjse. The idea
of escape, a bold thought ! . took -ppspessipn. of ,my soul. Tet
how to accomplish so. daring an enterprise? how elude the
vigilance of the fat 'door-keeper^ and , the keen eye of the
chaplain ? Eight weU^did they know the ig._uster,roll of their
stock of urchias, and often verified the same :
" Bisque die' numferaut ambo peous; alter et hsedos."
Heaven,'hpwever, soon grsinted what the "porter 'demed. 'The
milkmfe from 'Watergrasshill, ■wfho brdught th^ supplies
every morn and eve, _prided'hiniself 'jtarticulariy'bn the size
and beauty of his chui-n, — a capacious wooden recipient
which my young eye admired with more than superficial
curiosity. HavSig accidentally got on the wagon, and ex-
plored the capacious hollow of the machine, a bright angel
whispered in my ear to secrete myself ia the cavity. I did
BO; and shortly after, the gates of the hospital were flung
wide for my egress, and I found myself ] egging onward on
130 TATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQTJES.
the high road to light and freedom ! Judge of my sen-
sations ! MUton lias sung of one who, " long in populous
city pent," makes a visit to Highgate, and, snuffing the
rural breeze, blesses the country air : my rapture was of a
nature that defies description. To be sure, it was one of
the most boisterous days of storm and tempest that ever
Texed the heavens ; but secure in the churn, I chuckled with
joy, and towards evening fell fast asleep. In my subsequent
life I have often dwelt with pleasure on that joyous escape ;
and when ia my course of studies I met with the following
beautiful elegy of Simonides, I could not help applying it to
myself, and translated it accordingly. There have been ver-
sions by Denman, the Queen's solicitor ;* by Elton, by W.
Hay, and by Doctor Jortin ; but I prefer my own, as more
literal and more conformable to genuine Greek simplicity.
^t Hament of Haiiat.
By Simonides, the elegiac Poet of Cos.
On "Ka^vtMi ev Sai&aXiCf, avi/ios »
Spe/ii irvim, xiVTi^siiSa rs Xz/ii/a
Aiifjba,Ti rigimv, oud' adiavroiei
Jlagiiaii, a/Jifi di ne^gii ^ot,Xi
9iXav %£ga, eiiriv tv Cl rixog,
0/01/ i^u 'jrovov (Su d' awrs/j, yaXaSrivijj r'
Jlropi xvufeiig iv arip'jrii daif/iari,
XaXxeoyofjbftfi di v\i%ri\a,[i/!ni
Kuavitj) Ti dvoipif)- eu fi' auaXiav
't'lrigBi Tsav xo/j-av ^ahiaii
llagiovTOS zu/iaros oujc aXsyii;,
Oud' avi/iou (pSoy/wv, wog^ugscf
Ji.eifjitivoi IV yXavihi, 'jr^oeoiirov xaXoj.
E/ fis Toi diivov Toys biivov »jv,
Kai TiiV i/mv prj/iaruv XiVTOv
'T<!rii^ei ouas* xiXo/j,a,i, ASi /3gs(5os,
EudiTO di vovroc, txihiTO a/iiTpov xaxov.
MaTaioQauXia di rig (p&viiri,
Zeu •xan^, ix eio' o ri fij) SapgaXetv
E*os, lu^ofi/ot,! nxvofi bixag fj^oi.
* Wb never employed him. — RBanJA. 'Twas Caroline of Brunswick.
BEAK SWITT's MADNESS. 181
CficJLament of ^ttlla.
By Father Prout.
While round the chum, 'mid sleet and rain.
It blew a perfect hurricane,
Wrapt in slight garment to prot«ct her,
Methought I saw my mother's spectre.
Who took her infant to her breast —
Me, the small tenant of that chest —
While thus she lulled her babe : " How cruel
Hare been the !Pates to thee, my jewel !
But, caring naught for foe or scoffer.
Thou sleepest in this milky coffer,
Cooper'd with brass hoops weather-tight,
Impervious to the dim moonlight.
The shower cannot get in to soak
Thy hair or little purple cloak ;
Heedless of gloom, in dark sojourn,
Thy face illuminates the churn !
Small is thine ear, wee babe, for hearing,
But grant my prayer, ye gods of Erin !
And may folks find that this young fellow
Does credit to his mother Stella."
No. V.
THE BOGTJEEIES 03? TOM MOOEE.
ifftom t^t 3Prout iSaperS.
" Grata carpendo thyma per laborem
Plurimum, circa nemus* uvidique
Tiburis ripas, operosa paetits '
Carmina flngo."
QUINTUS HOEATITTS I'lACCtTS.
" By taking time, and some advice from Prout,
A polish'd book of songs I hammered out ;
But still my Muse, for she the fact confesses,
Haunts that sweet hiU, renown'd for water-cresses."
Thomas L. Moobe.
When the star of Father Prout (a genuine son of the ae-
* t, e. Blameum nemus.
132 FATHEE PEOUT'S EELIQUES.
complished Stella, and in himself the most eccentric lumi-
nary that has of late adorned our planetary system) first
rose in the firmament of literature, it deservedly attracted
the gaze of the learned, and riyeted the eye of the sage. We
know not what may have been the sensation its appearance
created in foreign countries, — at the Observatoire Eoyal of
Paris, in the Val'd'Arno, or at Eeaol^ where, in Milton's
time, the sons of Galileo plied the untiring telescope to de-
scry new heavenly phenomena, " rivers or mountains in the
shadowy moon," — but we can vouch for the impression
made on the London University ; for all Stinkomalee hath
been perplexed at the apparition. The learned Chaldeans
of Gower Street opine that it forebodes nothing good to the
cause of "useful knowledge," and they watch the "tran-
sit " of Prout, devoutly wishing for his " exit." With throb-
bing anxiety, night after night has Dr. Lardner gazed on the
sinister planet, seeking, vrith the aid of Dr. Babbage's calcu-
lating machine, to ascertain the probable period of its final
eclipse, and often muttering its name, " to tell how he hates
its beams." He has seen it last April shining conspicu-
ously in the constellation of Pisces, when he duly conned
over the " Apology for Lent," and the Doctor has reported
to the University Board, that, " advancing with retrograde
movement in the zodiac," this disastrous orb was last
perceived in the milky way, entering the sign of " Amphora,"
or " the chum." But what do the public care, while the
general eye is delighted by its irradiance, that a few owls
and dunces are scared by its efiulgency ? The Georgium
Sidus, the Astrium JuUum, the Soleil d'AusterUtz, the Star
at Yauxhall, the Nose of Lord Chancellor Vaux,* and the
* The following BOng was a favourite with the celebrated Chancellor
d'Agueaseau. It is occasionally snag, in oxir own times, by a modem
performer on the woolsack, in the intervals of business j
" Sit6t qae la lumi^re
Kedore nos cdteaux,
Je commence ma carriere
Par visiter mes tonneaux.
Eavi de revoir I'aurore,
Le verre en main, je lui dia,
Vois-fu done plus, chez le Maure,
Que svr man nez, de ruhis f"
Sfei^ft-
r
Jj'VSJ'-i
^ ^ ^.
^ . cA. a ii. ^^ 4__
THE EOGTJEEIES OE TOM MOOEE. 133
grand Eoman Grirandola sliot off from the mole of Adrian,
to tlie annual delight of modern " Quirites," are all fine
things and rubicund in their generation; hut nothing to the
star of Watergrasshill.. Nor is astronomical science or pyro-
technics- the only depaa?tment of' philosophy that has been
influenced by this extraordinary meteor— -the kindred study
of GASTEonoiny has derived the hint of a- new Combination
from its inspiring ray ; and, after a rapid perusal of " Front's
Apology for Fish," the celebrated Monsieul"- Tide, whom
Croquis has so exquisitely delineated in the gallery of Re-
GiNA, has invented on the spotan, original sauce, a novel
obsonium, more especially adapted to cod and- turbot, to
which he has given the reverend father's nalme ; so that Sir
William Curtis will be found eating his " turbot a la Prbut "
as constantly as his " cotelette- k la Maintenon;" The fasci-
nating Miss Landon has had her fair name affixed to a frozen
lake in the map of Captain Boss's discoveries ; and if Prout
be not equally fortunate in winning terraqueous renown
with his pen, (" Nititur penuEi vitreo daturus nomina
ponto"), he will at least figure on the "carte" at our
neighbour Verey's.
Who can tell vrhat posthumous destinies await the late
incumbent of Watergrasshill ? In truth, his celebrity (to
use an expression of Edmund Burke) is as yet but a " speck
in the horizon— -a smaU seminal principle, rather than a
formed body ;" and when, in the disemboguing of the chest,
in the evolving of his MSS., he shall be unfolded to the view
in all his dimensions, developing his proportions in a gor-
geous shape of matchless originality and grandeur; then will
be the hour for the admirers of the beautiful and the vota-,
pies of the sublime to hail him with becoming veneration,
and welcome him vrith the sound of the cornet, flute,- harp,
sackbut, psaltery, and dulcimer, and all kinds of music. —
(Dan. viii. 15.)
" Then shall the reign of mind commence on earth,
And, starting fresh, as from a second birth,
Man, in the sunshine of the world's new spring,
Shall walk transparent, like some holy thing ! ! t
Then, too, your prophet from his angel-brow
Shall cast the veil that hides its splendour now,
And gladden'd eai-th shall, through her wide expanse,
■"-"Mn the glories of lus countenance !"
134 FATHEE PEOTTT'S EBLIQIJES.
The title of this second paper taken from the Prout Col-
lection is enough to indicate that we are only firing off the
sniall arms — the pop-guns of this stupendous arsenal, and
that we reserve the heavy metal for a grander occasion, when
the Whig ministry and the dog-days shall be over, and a
merry autumn and a "Wellington administration shall mellow
our October cups. To talk of Tom Moore is but small
talk — " in tenui labor, at tenuis non gloria ;" for Prout's
great art is to magnify what is little, and to fling a dash of
the sublime into a two-penny-post communication. To use
Tommy's own phraseology, Prout could, with great ease and
comfort to himself,
" Teach an old cow pater-noster,
And whistle MoU Koe to a pig."
But we have another reason for selecting this " Essay on
Moore " from the papers of the deceased divine. We have
seen with regret an effort made to crush and annihilate the
young author of a book on the " Round Towers of Ireland,"
with whom we are not personally acquainted, but whose
production gave earnest of an ardent mind bent on abstruse
and recondite studies ; and who, leaving the frivolous bou-
doir and the drawing-room coterie to lisp their ballads and
retail their Epicurean gossip unmolested, trod alone the
craggy steeps of venturous discovery in the regions of Ori-
ental learning ; whence, returning to the isle of the west,
the " lEan of the fire- worshipper," he trimmed his lamp, well
fed vrith the fragrant oil of these sunny lands, and penned a
work which wiU one day rank among the most extraordinary
of modem times. The "Ediaburgh Review" attempted,
long ago, to stile the unfledged muse of Byron ; these trucu-
lent northerns would gladly have bruised in the very shell
the young eagle that afterwards tore with his lordly talons
both Jeffery and his colleague Moore (of the leadless pistol),
who were glad to wax subservient slaves, after being impo-
tent bullies. The same review undertook to cry down
Wordsworth and Coleridge ; they shouted their vulgar
" crucifigatur " against Robert Southey ; and seemed to
have adopted the motto of the French club of witlings,
"Nul n'atrra de I'eBprit que nous et nos amis."
But in the present case they wiU find themselves equally
THE SOGTTEHIES OE TOM MOOEE. 135
impotent for evil : O'Brien may defy tham. He may defy
his own alma mater, the silent and unproductive Trin. Coll.
Dub. ; he may defy the Eoyal Irish Academy, a learned as-
sembly, which, alas ! has neither a body to be kicked, nor a
sold to be damned ; and may rest secure of the applause
which sterling merit challenges from every freeborn inhabi-
tant of these islands,-^
" Save wHere, from yonder iTy-mantled tower,
The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of those who, venturing near her silent bower,
Molest her ancient soUtary reign.'*
Moore— (we beg his pardon) — the reviewer, asserts that
O'Brien is a plagiary, and pilfered his discovery from " Nim-
rod." Now we venture to offer a copy of the commentaries
of ComeUus a Lapide (which we find in Prout's chest) to
Tom, if he will shew us a single passage in " Nimyod" (which
we are confident he never read) warranting his assertion.
But, apropos of plagiarisms ; let us hear the prophet of
"WatergrasshiU, who enters largely on the subject.
OLIYEE TOEKE.
Regent Street, 1st August, 1834.
WafergrassMl, Feb. 1834.
That notorious tinker, WiUiam "Woods, m]^^!^! have re-
corded among the papers in my coffer somewherf j % !ft)ite
my Ulustrious father, kidnapped me in my childhood, little
dreamt that the infant Prout would one day emerge from
the Eoyal Cork Foundliag Hospital as safe and unscathe(d
as 'the children firom Nebuchadnezzar's furnace, to hold up
his villany to the execration of mankind :
" Non sine Dis animosus infans !"
Among the Eomans, whoever stole a child was liable by
law to get a sound flogging ; and ss plaga in Latin means a
ttripe, or lash, kidnappers in Cicero's time were called plagu
aril, or cat-o' -nine-tail-villains. J. approve highly of this law
of the twelve tables ; but perhaps my judgment is biassed,
136 FATHEE PEOUT'S EELIQXTES.
and I Bkould be an unfair juror to give a verdict in a case
which, comes home to my own feelings so poignantly. The
term plagiary has since been applied metaphorically to lite-
rary shop-lifterB and book-robbers, who stuff their pages
with other men's goods, and thrive on indiscriminate pillage.
This is justly considered a high misdemeanour in the
republic of letters, and the lash of criticism is unsparingly
dealt on pickpockets of this description. Among the Latins,
Martial is the only classic author by whom the term plagi-
arius is used in the metaphorical sense, as applied to litera-
ture ; but surely it was not because the practice only began
in his time that the word had not been used even in the
Augustan age of Eome. Be that as it may, we first find
the term in Martial's Epigrams (lib. i. epigr. 53) : talking
of his verses, he says,
" Bicas esse meos, mauuque miasos :
Hoe si terque quaterque clamit^ris,
tmpones plagiario pudorem."
Cicero himself was accused by the Greeks of pilfering whole
passages, for his philosophical works, from the scrolls of
Athens, and cooking up the fragments and broken meat of
Greek orations to feed the hungry barbarians of the iRomaa
forum. My authority is that excellent critic St. Jerome,
who, in the».".!^pemium jn qu. Heb. lib. Genesis," distinctly
say^ " Ci|C^ repCTundarum accusatur d Grsecis," &c. &c. ;
ailffiil±lrelRtiP|fe,ftage he adds, that Virgil being accused
of ipil^||fc-hole similes from Homer, gloried in the theft,
*xcMiBM^, " Think ye it nothing to wrest his club from
Hercules ?" (it ibidem.) Vide S"' Hieronymi Opera, tom.
iv. fol. 90. But what shall we say when we find Jerome ac-
cusing another holy father of plagiarism ? Verily the tempt-
ation must have been very great to have shaken the probity
of St. Ambrose, when he pillaged his learned brother in the
faith, Origen of Alexandria, by wholesale. " Nuper Sanctus
Ambrosius Heiaemeron iUius compilavit " (S'"'Hieronymi
Opera, tom. iii. fol. 87, in epistold ad Pammach). It is well
known that Menander and Aristophanes were mercilessly
pillaged by Terence and Plautus ; and the Latin freebooters
THE EO&TJEEIES 01" TOM MOOBE. 137
thought nothing of stopping the Thespian waggon on the
highways of Parnassus. The Trench dramatists are simi-
larly waylaid by our scouts from the green-room, — and the
plunder is awful ! What is Talleyrand about, that he can-
not protect the property of the Trench ? Perhaps he is better
employed ?
I am an old man, and have read a great deal in my time —
being of a quiet disposition, and having always had a tast®
for books, which I consider a great blessing ; but latterly I
find that I may dispense with further perusal of printed
volumes, as, unfortunately, memory serves me but too weU ;
and all I read now strikes me as but a new version of what
I had read somewhere before. Plagiarism is so barefaced
and so .universal, that I can't stand it no longer : I have
shut up shop, and won't be taken in no more. Qucere pere-
grinum? clamo. I'm sick of hashed-up works, and loathe
the haked meats of antiquity served in a fricassee. Grive me
a solid joint, in which no knife has been ever fleshed, and I
will share your intellectual banquet most willingly, were it
but a mountain kid, or a limb of "Welsh mutton. Alas !
whither shall I turn ? Let me open the reyiews, and lo ! the
critics are but repeating old criticisms ; let me fly to the
poets, 'tis but the old lyre with catgut strings ; let me hear
the orators, — " that's my thunder !" says the ghost of Sheri-
dan or the spectre of Burke ; let me listen to the sayers of
good things, and alas for the injured shade of Joe MiUer !
Icoidd go through the whole range of modern authors (save
Scott, and a few of that kidney), and exclaim, with more
truth than the chieftain of the crusaders in Tasso —
" Di ohi di voi non so la patria e '1 seme ?
Qual spada m' S ignota ? e qual saetta,
Benche per 1' aria ancor sospesa treme,
Non saprei dip s' fe Pranca, o s' & d'Irlanda,
E qliale appunto il braecio 6 che la manda ?"
Gerusal. Liber, canto xx. st. 18.
To state the simple truth, such as I feel it in my own
conviction, I declare that the whole mass of contemporary
scribblement might be bound up in one tremendous volume,
and entitled " Elegant Extracts ;" for, if you except the form
and style, the varnish and colour, all the rest is what I have
138 FATHEE PBOTJT'S EEMQITES.
known in a different shape forty years ago ; and there ifi
more philosophy than meets the' vulgar eye in that excellent
song on the transmutation of things here below, which per-
petually offer the same iutrinsic substance, albeit under a
different name :
" Dear Tom, this brown jug, which now foams with nuld ale.
Was ouoe Toby Philpot, a merry old soul," &c. &o.
This transmigration of intellect, this metempsychosis of
literature, goes on silently reproducing and reconstructing
what had gone to pieces. But those whose memory, like
mine, is unfortunately over-tenacious of its young impres-
sions, cannot enjoy the zest of a twice-told tale, and conse-
quently are greatly to be pitied.
It has lately come out that " ChUde Harolde " (like other
naughtychildren whom we dailyread of as terminating^heir "Ufe
in London " by being sent to the "Euryalus hulk,") was given
to picking pockets. Mr. Beckford, the author of " Vathek,"
and the builder of PonthiU Abbey, has been a serious sufferer
by the Childe's depredations, and is now determined to pub-
lish his case in the shape of " Travels, in 1787, through Por-
tugal, up the Rhine, and through Italy;" and it also appears
that Saml. Rogers, in his " Italy," has learned a thing or
two from the " Bandits of Terracina," and has divalisi Mr.
Beckford aforesaid on more than one occasion in the Apen-
nines. I am not surprised at all this : murder will out ; and
a stolen dog will naturally nose out his original and primi^
tive master among a thousand on a race-course.
These matters may be sometimes exaggerated, and (honour
bright !) far be it from me to pull the stool from under every
poor devH that sits down to write a book, and sweep away, with
unsparing besom, aU the cobwebs so industriously woven
across Paternoster How. I don't wish to imitate Father
Hardouin, the celebrated Jesuit, who gained great renown
among the wits of Louis XlVth's time by his paradoxes.
A favourite maggot hatched in his prolific brain was, that the
Odes of Horace never were written by the friend of Mecaenas,
but were an imposture of some old Benedictine monk of the
twelfth century, who, to amuse his cloistered leisure, per-
sonated Placcus, and under his name strung together those
lyrical effusions. This is maintained in a large folio, printed
THE EOaiTEEIES 01' TOM MOOEE. 139
at Amsterdam in 1733, viz. " Harduini Opera Varia, ■^ludo-
Horatius." One of his arguments is drawn from the Chris-
Uan allusions which, he asserts, occur so frequently in these
Odes : ex. graiid, the " praise of celibacy ;"
" Hatauusque coelebs
Evincit ulmos j"
Lib. ii. ode 15.
for the elm-tree used to be married to the vine ; not so the
sycamore, as any one who has been ia Italy must know. The
rebuilding of the temple by Julian the Apostate is, accord-
ing to the Jesuit, thus denounced :
" Sed belHoosis fata Quiritibua
H^ lege dioo, ne nimiiun pii,
Teota velint reparare Trojae."
Lib. iii. Ode 3.
Again, the sacred mysteries of the Lord's Supper, and the
concealed nature of the bread that was broken among the pri-
mitive Christians :
■ " Vetabo, qui Cereris sacrum
Vulg4rit arcana, sub iisdem
Sit trabibus, fcagilemTe mecum
Solrat phaselum" (i.e. the barJc of Peter).
Lib. iii. ode 2,
And the patriarch Joseph, quoth Hardouin, is clearly pointed
out under the strange and un-Eoman name of Proculeius, of
whom pagan history says naught :
" Vivet extento Proculeius sero,
Notus infratrea animi paterni!"
Lib. ii, ode 2.
For the rest of Hardouin's discoveries I must refer to the
work itself, as quoted above ; and I must in fairness add,
that his other literary efforts and deep erudition reflect the
highest credit on the celebrated order to which he belonged
— the Jesuits, and, I may add, the Benedictines being as
distiact and as superior bodies of monastic men to the re-
maining tribes of cowled coenobites as the Brahmius in India
'are to the begging Farias.*
* Father Hardouin, who died at Paris 3rd Sept. 1729, was one of
the many high ornaments of the society and the century to which he
140 TATHEE PEOUT'S EELIQrES.
There is among the lyric poems of the lower Irish a very
remarkable ode, the authorship of which has been ascribed
to the very Eev. Eobert Burrowes, the mild, tolerant, and
exemplary Dean of St. Finbarr's Cathedral, Cork, whom I
am proud to call my friend : it refers to the last tragic scene
in the comic or melodramatic life of a Dublin gentleman,
whom the above-mentioned excellent divine accompanied in
his ministerial capacity to the gallows ; and nothing half so
characteristic of the genuiue Irish recklessness of death was
ever penned by any national Labruyfere as that incompar-
able elegy, begioning —
" The night before Larry was stretched,.
The boys they all paid him a visit," &c.
Now, were not this fact of the clerical authorship of a most
BubUme Pindaric composition chronicled in these papers,
some future Hardouin would arise to unsettle the belief of
posterity, and the claim of my friend Dean Burrowes would
be overlooked ; while the songster of Turpia the highway-r
man, the illustrious author of " Eookwood,"* would infal-
libly be set dowh as the writer of " Larry's" last hornpipe.
But let me remark, en passant, that in that interesting depart-
ment of literature " slang songs," Ireland enjoys a proud
and lofty pre-eminence over every European country : her
musa pedestris, or "footpad poetry," being unrivalled; and, as
it is observed by Tacitus (in his admirable work " De Mori-
bus Grermanorum") of the barbarians on the Ehine — the
native Irish find an impulse for valorous deeds, and a com-
fort for all their tribulations, in a song.
belonged. His Collection of the Councils ranks among the most ela-
borate efforts of theological toil, " Concil. Collect. Eegia," 15 vols.
foUo, Paris, 1715. The best edition extant of the naturalist Pliny is
his (m usum Delphini), and displays a wondrous range of reading. He
was one of the witty and honest crew of Jesuits who conducted that
model of periodical criticism, the "Journal de Tr^vous." Bishop
Atterbury of Kochester has written his epitaph ;
" Hie jacet Petros Harduinvs,
Hominum paradoxotatos, vir summee memorice.
Judicium expeotaus." Peotjt.
* Prout must have enjoyed the gift of prophecy, for " Eookwood"
was not pubhshed till four months after his death at Watergrasshill.
Perhaps Mr. Ainsworth submitted his embryo romance to the priest's
inspoctiou when he went to kiss the stone. — 0. Y.
(THE EOarEEIES Or TOM MOOEE. 141
Many folks lite to write anonymously, others posthu-
mously, others under an assumed name ; and for each of these
methods of conveying thought to our feUow-men there may
be assigned sundiy solid reasons. But a man should never
be ashamed to avow his writings, if called on by an injured
party, aaid I, for one, wiU never shrink from that avowal.
If, as my friend O'Brien of the Bound Towers tells me,
Tom Moore tried to run him down in the " Edinburgh Ee-
view," after holding an unsuccessful negotiation with him
for his services in compiling a joint-stock history of Ireland,
why did not the man of the pwper lullet fire a fair shot in
his own name, and court the publicity of a dirty job, which
done in the dark can lose nothing of its infamy ? Dr. John-
son teUs us that Bolingbroke wrote in his old age a work
against Christianity, which he hadn't the courage to avow
or publish in his lifetime ; but left a sum of money in his
will to a hungry Scotchman, MaUet, on condition of print-
ing in his own name this precious production. " He loaded
the pistol," says the pious and learned lexicographer, " but
made Sawney puU the trigger." Such appear to be the
tactics of Tommy in the present instance : but I trust the
attempt wiU. fail, and that this insidious missile darted
against the towers of O'Brien will prove a " telum imbelle,
sine ictu."
The two most original writers of the day, and also the
two most iU-treated by the press, are decidedly Miss Harriet
Martineau and Henry O'Brien. Of Miss Martineau I
shall say little, as she can defend herself against all her
foes, and give them an effectual check when hard-pressed in
literary encounters. Her fame can be comprised in one
brief pentameter, which I would recommend as a motto for
the title-page of aU her treatises :
" Eoemina tractavit ' propria quae maribus.' "
But over Henry O'Brien, as he is young and artless, I must
throw the shield of my fostering protection. It is now
some time since he called at WatergrasshUl ; it was in the
summer after I had a visit from Sir Walter Scott. The
young man was then well versed in the Oriental langfuages
and the Celtic : he had read the " Coran" and the " Psalter
of Cashil," the " Zendavesta" and the « Ogygia," " Lalla
142 FATHEE PEOTTT'S EEMQUES.
Erookh" and."Eock's Memoira," besides other books that
treat of Phoenician antiquities. From these authentic
sources of Irish and Hindoo mythology he had derived .
much internal comfort and spiritual consolation ; at the
same time that he had picked up a rude (and perhaps a
crude) notion that the Persians and the boys of Tipperary
were first cousins after all. This might seem a startling
theory at first sight ; but then the story of the fire-worship-
pers in Arabia so corresponded with the exploits of General
Decimus Eock in Mononia, and the camel-drirer of Mecca
was so forcibly associated in his mind with the bog-trotter
of Derrynane, both having deluded an untutored tribe of
savages, and the flight of the one being as celebrated as the
vicarious imprisonment of the other, he was sure he should
find some grand feature of this striking consanguinity,
gome landmark indicative of former relationship :
Joumeying with that intent, he eyed these Towees ;
And, Heaven-directed, came this way to find
The noble truth that gilds his humble name.
Being a tolerable Gf^reek scholar (for he is a Kerryman),
with Lucian, of course, at his fingers' ends, he probably
bethought himself of the two great phaUic towers which
that author describes as having been long ago erected in
the countries of the East, (" ante Syrise DesB templum stare
phallos duos mirae altitudinis ; sacerdotem per funes ascen-
dere, ibi orare, sacra facere, tinnitumque ciere," &c. &c.) ;
a ray of light darted through the diaphanous casement of
O'Brien's brain, — 'twas a most ewikish moment, — 'twas a
covp de soleil, a manifestation of the spirit, — 'twas a divines
pwrticula a/mra, — twas what a IVenchman would caU Vhmre
da herger ; and on the spot the whole theory of " Round
Towers" was developed in his mind. The dormant chrysalis
burst into a butterfly. And this is the bright thing of sur-
passing brilliancy that Tom Moore would extinguish with
his flimsy foolscap pages of the " Edinburgh Eeview."
Forbid it, Heaven ! Though aU' the mercenary or time-
serving scribes of the periodical press should combine to
slander and burke thee, O'B. ! though all the world betray
thee, one pen at least thy right shaU guard, and vindicate
thy renown : here, on the summit of a bleak Irish hill —
THE EOarEEIES OE TOM MOOEE. 143
I
here, to the child of genius and enthusiasm mj door is still
open ; and though the support which I can give thee is but*
a scanty portion of patronage indeed, I give it with good
will, and assuredly with good humour. O'Brien ! historian
of round towers, has sorrow thy young days faded ?
Does Moore with his cold wing wither
Each feeling that once was dear ?
Then, child of misfortune, come hither-^
I'll weep with thee tear for tear.
"When O'Brien consulted me as to his future plana and
prospects, and the development of his theory, in the first
instance confidentially to Tom Moore, I remember distinctly
that ia the course of our conversation (over a red herring),
I cautioned the young and fervent enthusiast against the
tricks and rogueries of Tommy. Ko man was better able
to give advice on this subject — Moore and I having had
many mutual transactions, the reciprocity of which was all
on one side. We know each other intus et in cute, as the
reader of this posthumous paper vdll not fail to learn be-
fore he has laid down the document ; and if the ballad-
monger comes ofi" second best, I can't help him. I warned
O'B. against confiding his secret to the man of melody, or
else he would surely repent of his simplicity, and to his
cost find himself some day the dupe of his credulous reli-
ance : while he would have the untoward prospect of seeing
his discovery swamped, and of beholding, through the me-
dium of a deep and overwhelming flood of treachery,
" His round towers of other days
Beneath the waters shining."
For, to illustrate by a practical example the man's way of
doing business, I gave, as a striking instance, his " Travels
in Search of Eeligion." Wow, since my witty father's cele-
brated book of " Grulliver's Travels," I ask, was there ever
a more clever, or in every way so well got up a performance
as this Irish gentleman's " steeple chase ?" But unfortu-
nately memory supplies me with the i'act, that this very same
identical Tommy, who in that work quotes the " Pathers "
BO accurately, and, I may add (without going into polemics),
BO felicitously and triumphantly, has written the most
IM FATHES PEOTTT's EELIQrES.
abusive, seurrilous, and profane article that ever sullied the
pages of the " Edinburgh Eeview," — the whole scope of
which is to cry down the Fathers, and to turn the highest
and most cherished ornaments of the primitive church into
ridicule. See the 24th volume of the " Edinburgh Eeview,"*
p. 65, Nov. 1814, where you will learn with amazement that
the most accomplished Christian writer of the second
century, that most eloquent churchman, Africa's glorious
son, was nothing more in Tommy's eye than the " harsh,
muddy, and unintelligible Tertullian!" Further on, you
will hear thiia Anacreontic little chap talk of " the pompous
rigidity of Ohrysostom ;" and soon after you are equally
edified by hearing him descant on the " antithetical trifling
of Gregory ISTazianzene " — of Gregory, whose elegant mind
was the result and the index of pure unsullied virtue, ever
most attractive when adorned with the graced of scholar-
ship— Gregory, the friend of St. Basil, and his schoolfellow
at Athens, where those two vigorous champions of Chris-
tianity were associated 'in their youthful studies with that
Julian who was afterwards an emperor, a sophist, and an
apostate — a disturber of oriental provinces, ,and a feUow who
perished deservedly by the javelin of some young patriot
admirer of round towers in Persia. In the article alluded
to, this incredulous Thomas goes on to say, that these same
Fathers, to whom he afterwards refers his Irish gentleman
in the catch-penny travels, are totally '■'unfit to he guides
either in faith or morals." (it. ib.) The prurient rogue dares
to talk of their "pagan imaginations .'" and, having turned up
his ascetic nose at these saintly men, because, forsooth, they
appear to him to be but " indifferent Christians," he pro-
nounces them to be also " elephants in battle," and, chuckling
over this old simile, concludes with a complacent smirk quite
self-satisfactory. O for the proboscis of the royal animal in
the Surrey Menagerie, to give this poet's carcass a sound
drubbing ! O most theological, and zoological, and super-
eminently logical Tommy ! 'tis you that are fit to travel in.
search of religion !
If there is one plain truth that oozes forth from the fecu-
lent heap of trash which the reviewer accumulates on the
* The book reviewed by Moore is entitled " Select Passages from the
Fathers," by Hugh Boyd, Esq. Dublin, 1814.
THE EOarEEIES OF TOM MOOEE. 145
merits of the Fathers, it is the conviction in every observant
inind, drawn from the simple perusal of his article, that he
never read three consecutive pages of their works in his life.
'No one that ever did— no one who had banqueted with the
gorgeous and magnificent Chrysostom, or drained the true
Athenian cup of Gregory Nazianzene, or dwelt with the
eloquent and feelingly devout Bernard in the cloistered
shades of Clairvaux, or mused with the powerful, rich, and
scrutinizing mind of Jerome in his hermitage of Palestine, —
could write an article so contemptible, so low, so little. He
states, truly vrith characteristic audacity, that he has mounted
to the most inaccessible shelves of the library in Trin. Coll.
Dublia, as if he had scaled the "heights of Abraham," to
get at the original editions ; but believe him not : for the
old folios would have become instinct with life at the ap-
proach of the dwarf— they would have awakened from their
slumber at his touch, and, tumbling their goodly volumes
on their diminutive assailant, would have overwhelmed him,
like Tarpeia, on the very threshold of his sacrilegious in-
vasion.
Towards my yoimg friend O'Brien of the towers he acts the
same part, appearing in his favourite character — that of an
anonymous reviewer, a veiled prophet of Khorasan. Having
first negotiated by letter with him to extract his brains, and
make use of him for his meditated " History of Ireland " —
(the correspondence lies before me) — he winds up the con-
fidential intercourse by an Edinburgh volley of canister shot,
" quite in a friendly way." He has the inefiable impudence
to accuse O'B. of. plagiarism, and to state that this grand and
imparalleled discovery had been previously made by the author
of " Nimrod ;"* a book which Tommy read not, neither did
he care, so he plucked the laurel from the brow of merit. But
to accuse a writer of plagiarism, he should be himself im-
* Nimrod, by the Hon. Eeginald Herbert. 1 vol. 8to. London, 1826.
Priestley. A work of uncommon erudition; but the leading idea of
which is, that these towers were fire-altars. O. B.'s theory is not to
be found in any page of it hating the remotest reference to Ireland ; and
we are astonished at the unfairness of giving (as Moore has done) a
pijetended quotation from " ttimrod " without indicating where it is
to be met with in the volume. — O. Y.
L
146 TATHEE PEOUT'S EELIQTES.
maculate ; and wMle he dwells in a glass house, he should
not throw stones at a man in a tower.
The Blarney-stone in my neighbourhood has attracted hither
many an illustrious visitor ; but none has been so assiduous
a pilgrim in my time as Tom Moore. WhUe he was engaged
in his best and most unexceptionable work on the melodious
ballads of his country, he came regularly every summer, and
did me the honour to share my humble roof repeatedly. He
knows well how often he plagued me to supply him with
original songs which I had picked up in France among the
merry troubadours and carol-loving ' inhabitants of that
once happy land, and to what extent he has transferred
these foreign inventions into the " Irish Melodies."
Like the robber Cacus, he generally dragged the plundered
cattle by the tail, so as that, moving backwards into his
cavern of stolen goods, the foot-tracks might not lead to
detection. Some songs he would turn upside down, by a
figure in rhetoric called uenpov 'ffponpov ; others he would dis-
guise in various shapes ; but he would still worry me to
supply him with the productions of the GraUic muse; "for,
d'ye see, old Prout," the rogue would say,
" The best of all ways
To lengthen our lat/s,
Is to steal a few thoughts from tho French, 'my dear.' "
Now I would have let him enjoy unmolested the renown
which these " Melodies " have obtained for him ; but his
last treachery to my round-tower friend has raised my bile,
and I shall give evidence of the unsuspected robberies :
" Abstractseque boves abjurat£ec[ue rapinse
Ccelo ostendentur."
It would be easy to point out detached fragments and
stray metaphors, which he has scattered here and there in
such gay confusion that every page has within its limits a
mass 01 felony and plagiarism sufficient to hang him. Por
instance, I need only advert to his " Bard's Legacy." Even
on his dying bed this " dying "bard " cannot help indulging
his evil pranks ; for, in bequeathing his " heart " to his
"mistress dear," and recommending her to "borrow" balmy
THE EOGITEEIES OF TOM MOOEB.
147
drops of port wine to bathe the relic, he is all the while rob-
bing old Clement Mar6t, who thus disposes of Ms remains :
" Quand je suis mort, je veux qu'ou m' entire
Dans la cave oil est le viu j
Le corps sous un tonneau de Mad^re,
JElt la bouche sous le robia."
But I won't strain at a gnat, when I can capture a camel —
a huge dromedary laden with pUfered spoil ; for, would you
believe it if you had never learned it from Prout, the very
opening and foremost song of the collection,
" Go where glory waits thee,"
is but a Hteral and servile translation of an old French
ditty, which is among my papers, and which I believe to have
been composed by that beautiful and interesting " ladye,"
!Praii9oise de Poix, Comtesse de Chateaubriand, born in
1491, and the favourite of Prancis I., who soon abandoned
her : indeed, the Hnes appear to anticipate his infidelity.
They were written before the battle of Pavia;
C]E)Rn£ion
de la Comtesse de Chateaubriand a
Francois I.
Va oil la gloire t'invite ;
Et quand d'orgueil palpite
Ce coenr, qu'il peuse h moi !
Quand I'SLoge enflamme
Toute I'ardeur de ton Hine,
Pense encore a moi !
Autres charmes peut-tee
Tu Toudras connaitre,
Autre amour en maitre
Hegnera sur toi ;
Mais quand ta levre presse
CeUe qui te oaresse,
H^chant, pense k moi !
Quand au soir tu erres
Sous I'a^tre des bergeres,
Pense aus doux instans
Com Jffioow's
Translation of this Song in the Irish
Go where glory waits thee ;
But while fame elates thee.
Oh, still remember me !
When the praise thou meetest
To thiue ear is sweetest,
Oh, then remember me !
Other arms may press thee.
Dearer friends caress thee —
AU the joys that bless thee
Dearer far may be :
But when friends are dearest,
And when joys are nearest.
Oh, then remember me !
When at eve thou rovest
By the star thou levest,
Oh, then remember me 5
118
PATHEE PEOUT's EELIQTJES.
Lorsque oette ^toile,
Qu'uu beau ciel d^Toile,
Q-iiida deui amans !
Q.uand la fleur, symbole
D'ete qui s'envole,
Penclie sa tete molle,
S'exhalant a I'air,
Pcnse k la guirlande,
De ta mie roffrande — ■
Don qui fat si eher !
Quaud la feuiUe d'automne
Sous tes pas resonne,
Pense alors h moi !
Quand de la famille
L'autique foyer brille,
Pense encore h, moi !
Et si de la cbanteuse
La Toix melodieuse
Beree ton ^me heureuse
Et ravit tes sens,
Pense k I'air que chante
Pour toi ton amante —
Tant aim^s aooens !
Think, when home returning,
Bright we've seen it burning—
Oh, then remember me !
Oft as summer closes,
When thine eye reposes
On its lingering roses,
Once so loved by thee.
Think of her who wove them—
Her who made thee love them :
Oh, then remember me !
When around thee, dying.
Autumn leaves are lying.
Oh, then remember me !
And at night, when gazing
On the gay hearth blazing.
Oh, still remember me !
Then, should music, stealing
All the soul of feeling,
To thy heart appealing,
Draw one tear from thee ;
Then let memory bring thee
Strains I used to sing thee—
Oh, then remember me !
Any one who has the slightest tincture of !Prench litera-
ture must recognise the simple and unsophisticated style of
a genuine love-song in the ahove, the language being that of
the century in which Clement Mar&t and Maitre Adam
wrote their incomparable ballads, and containing a kindly
admixture of gentleness and sentimental delicacy, which
no one but a " ladye" and a lovely heart could infuse into
the composition. Moore has not been infelicitous in ren-
dering the charms of the wondrous original into English
lines adapted to the measure and tune of the French. The
air is plaintive and exquisitely beautiful ; but I recommend
it to be tried first on the French words, as it was sung by the
charming lips of the Countess of Chateaubriand to the en-
raptured ear of the gallant Francis I.
The following pathetic strain is the only literary relic
which has been preserved of the unfortunate Marquis de
Cinqmars, who was disappointed in a love affair, and who,
" to fling forgetfulness around him," mixed in politics, con-
spired against Cardinal Eichelieu, was betrayed by an ac-
complice, and perished on the scaffold. Moore has trans-
THE EOGUEEIES OE TOM MOOEE.
149
planted it entire into his " National Melodies ;" but is very
careful not to give the nation or writer whence he translated
it.
He IKarqufe Ue CinqinarH.
Tu n'as fait, o mon coeur ! qu'im
beau songe,
Qui te fut, helas ! ravi trop t6t ;
Oe doui rSve, ah dieux ! qu'il so
prolonge,
Je eonsena a n'aspirer plus haut.
Paut-U que d'avance
Jeune esperance
Le deBtin d^truise ton avenir ?
Faut-il que la rose
La premiere ^close
Soit oelle qu'il se plaise il fletrir ?
Tu n'as fait, &c.
Que de fois tu trompas notre at-
teute,
Amitie, soeur de I'amour trom-
peur !
De I'amour la coupe encore en-
chante
A I'amionliTre encor' son cceur :
L'insecte qui file
Sa trame inutile
Voit perir cent fois le frMe tiseu;
Tel, amour ensorcele
L'homme qui renouveUe
Des Kens qui I'ont cent fois
Tu n'as fait, &c.
Cpomaji ilKoou.
O ! 'twas all but a dream at the
best —
And still when happiest, soonest
o'er:
But e'en in a dream to be blest
Is so sweet, that I ask for no
more!
The bosom that opes
With earliest hopes
The soonest finds those hopes un-
true;
Like flowers that first
In spring-time bm-st.
The soonest wither too !
Oh, 'twas aU but, &c.
By friendship we've oft been de-
ceived,
And love, even love, too soon is
past;
ButfrieudshipwiU still be believed,
And love trusted on to the last ;
Like the web in the leaves
The spider weaves,
Is the charm that hangs o'er men —
Tho' oft as he sees
It broke by the breeze.
He weaves the bright line again !
O ! 'twas all but, &c.
Every thing was equally acceptable in the way of a song
to Tommy ; and provided I brought grist to his miU, he did
not care where the produce came from — even the wild oats
and the thistles of native growth on "Watergrasshill, aU was
good provender for his Pegasus. There was an old Latin
song of my own, which I made when a boy, smitten with
the charms of an Irish milkmaid, who crossed by the hedge-
school occasionally, and who used to distract my attention
from " Corderius" and " Erasmj f oUoquia." I have often
150
I'ATHEE PEOTJT S EEI/IQTTES.
laughed at my juvenile gallantry when my eye has met the
copy of verses in overhauling my papers. Tommy saw it,
grasped it with avidity ; and I find he has given it, word
for word, in an English shape in his " Irish Melodies." Let
the intelligent reader judge if he has done common justice
to my young muse.
Sn pulcl^ram Sacttferam.
Carmen, Auctore JProut.
Xieshia, sempe)^ hine et inde
Oculorum tela movit ;
Captat omnes, sed deind^
Quis ametur nemo novit.
Palpebrarum,' Nora cara, ' ,
Lux tuarum noD est foris,
Flamma micat ibi rara, ' "
Sed einceri lux amoris.
Nora Greiha sit regina,' ,
Vultu, gressu.tam modesto!
Hsec, puellas inter bellasj" '
Jure omnium dux esto ! , .
Lesbia vestes auro graves
Pert, et gemmis, juxta normam ;
(Jratise sed, eheu ! suaves
Cinctam reliqu^re formam,
Norse tunioam prseferres,
Flante zephyro volantem ;
Ooulis et raptis erres
Oontemplando ambulantem !
Vesta Nora t^m deoor^
Semper iudui memento,
Semper purse sic naturae
Ibis tecta vestimenlo.
Co a beautiful MHiimaia.
A Melody, hy Thomas Moore.
Lesbia hath, a beaming ' eye,
But no one knows for whom
it beameth ;
Bight and left its arrows fly,
But what they aim at, no one
dreameth.
Sweeter 'tis to gaze upon
My Norah's lid, that seldom
rises ;
Pew her looks, but every one
Like unexpected Hglit surprises,
O, my Norah Creina dear !
MTy gentleibashful Norah Creina !
Beauty lies
In many eyes— '
But Love's in thine, my Norah
Creiiia !
Lesbia wears a robe of gold ;
But all so tight the nymph hath
laced it,
Not a charm of beauty's mould
Presumes to stay where nature
placed it.
O, my Norah's gown for me,
That floats as wild as mountaon
Leaving every beauty free
To sink orsweUas Heaven pleases,
Tes, my Norah Creina dear !
My simple, gracefulNorah Creina!
Nature's dress
Is loveliness — ■
The dress you wear, my Norah
Creina !
Fa^fUO.
THE EO&TJEEIES OE TOM MOOEB. '
151
Lesbia mentis prsefert lumen,
Quod ooruscat perllbenter j
Sed quia optet hoc acumen,
Quando acupunota dentur ?
Norse sinu cum recliner,
Dormio luxuriose,
Nil corrugat hoc pulvinar.
Nisi crispse ruga rosse.
Nora blanda, Inz amanda,
Expers usque tenebrarum,
Tu cor muloea per tot dulces
Botes, fons illecebrarum !
Lesbia hath a wit refined ;
Bvit when its points are gleam-
ing round us,
Wlio can tell if they're design'd
To dazzle merely, or to wound
us?
Pillow'd on my Norah's breast,
In safer slumber Love reposes —
Bed of peace, whose roughest part
Is but the crumpling of the roses.
O, my Norah Oreina dear !
My mUd, my artless Norah
Creina !
Wit, though bright.
Hath not the light
That warms your eyes, my Norah
Creina !
It win be seen by these specimens that Tom Moore can
eke out a tolerably fair translation of any given ballad ; and
indeed, to translate properly, retaining all the fire and spirit
of the original, is a merit not to be sneezed at — it is the
next best thing to having a genins of one's own ; for he
who can execute a clever forgery, and make it pass current,
is almost as well oif as the capitalist who can draw a sub-
stantial check on the bank of sterling genius : so, to give
the devil his due, I must acknowledge that in terseness,
point, pathos, and elegance, Moore's translations of these
!French and Latin trifles are very near as good as the pri-
mary compositions themselves. He has not been half so
lucky in hitting off Anacreon ; but he was a young man
then, and a " wild fellow ;" since which time it is thought
that he has got to that climacteric in life to which few poets
attain, viz. the years of discretion. A predatory iSort of
life, the career of a literary freebooter, has had great charms
for him from his cradle ; and I am afraid that he will pur-
sue it on to final impenitence. He seems to care little
about the stem reception he will one day receive from that
inflexible judge, Ehadamanthua, who will make him confess
all his rogueries — " Castigatque dolos, subi^itque fateri"—
our bard being of that epicurean and careless turn of mind
60 strikingly expressed in these lines of " Lalla Eookh" —
" O ! if there be an Elysium on earth,
It is this ! it is this 1"
152 TATHEE PEOn'S EELIQTTES.
Which verses, by the by, are alone enough to convict him of
downright plagiarism and robbery ; for they are (as Tommy
knows right well) to be seen written in large letters in the
Mogul language over the audience-chamber of the King of
Delhi :* ia fact, to examine and overhaul his " Lalla Eookh"
would be a most diverting task, which I may one day un-
dertake. He will be found to have been a chartered pirate
in the Persian Gulf, as he was a highwayman iu Europe — .
" spoliis Otientis onustum."
But the favourite field ia which Tommy has carried on
his depredations, to an almost incredible extent, is that of
the early French troubadours, whose property he has thought
fair game, avaUing himself thereof without scruple. In his soi-
disant "Irish" Melodies, and indeed ia all his effusions of
more refined gallantry, he has poured in a large iafusion of
the spirit and the letter of southern Prance. To be sure,
he has mixed up with the pure, simple, and genuine iuspi-
rationa of these primitive hearts, who loved, ia the olden time,
after nature's fashion, much of his own overstrained fancy,
strange conceits, and forced metaphors ; but the initiated
can easily distinguish when it is he speaketh in proprid per-
sond, and when it is that he uses the pathetic and soul-
stirring language of the mdnhtrels of Gaul, those legitimate
laureates of love. There has been a squib fired off by some
wag of the sixteenth century against an old astrologer, who
practised many rogueries in his generation, and which I
think not inapplicable to Moore :
" Nostra damua cilm faba damus, nam faUere nostrum est ;
Et cilm falsa damns, non nisi Nostra damus."
Apd, only it were a profanation to place two such person-
ages in juxtaposition, I would say that Moore might use the
affecting, the soul-rending appeal of the ill-fated Mary Stu-
art, addressed to that land of song and civilisation which
she was quitting for ever, when she exclaimed, as the Gallic
shore receded from her view, that " half of her heart would
still be found on the loved plains of France, and even the
other half pined to rejoin it in its primitive abodes of plea-
santness and joy." The song of the unfortunate queen is too
* See the " Asiatic Jourma" for May, 1834, p. 2,
THE EOarEEIES OE TOM MOOEE. 153
exquisitely beautiful not to be given here by me, such as
she sang it on the deck of the vessel that wafted her away
from the scenes of her youth and the blessings of friendship,
to seek the dismal regions of bleak barbarity and murderous
fanaticism. I also give it because Tommy has modelled on
it his melody, " As slow om* ship its foamy track," and
Byron his " Native land, good night !"
" Adieu, plaisant pays de France ! " Farewell fair land.
Oh, ma patrie la plus chdrie, Mine heart's countrie !
Qui as nourri ma jeune enfance — Where girlhood planned
Adieu, France ! adieu, mes beaux Its wild freaks free.
jours ! The bark that bears
La nef qui dejoint mes amours A Queen to Scots,
N'a ici de moi que la moiti^ ; In twain but tears
TJne part te reste, elle est tienne. Her who allots
Je la fie ^ ton amiti^ — Her dearer half to thee :
PoTir que de I'autre, il te Bouyienne !" Keep, keep her memorie !"
I now come to a more serious charge. To plunder the
French is all right ; but to rob his own countrymen is
what the late Lord Liverpool would call " too bad." I
admit the claims of the poet on the gratitude of the abori-
ginal Irish ; for glorious Dan might have exerted his
leathern lungs duriag a century in haranguing the native
sans culottes on this side of the Channel ; but had not
the " Melodies " made emancipation palatable to the think-
ing and generous portion of Britain's free-born sons — had
not his poetry spoken to the hearts of the great and the
good, and enlisted the fair daughters of England, the spouters
would have been but objects of scorn and contempt. The
"Melodies" won the cause silently, imperceptibly, effec-
tually ; and if there be a tribute due from that class of the
native, it is to the child of song. Poets, however, are
always destined to be poor ; and such used to be the case
with patriots too, until the rint opened the eyes of the
public, and taught them that even that sacred and exalted
passion, love of country, could resolve itself, through an
Ksh alembic, into an ardent love for the copper currency
of one's native land. The dagger of Harmodius, which
used to be concealed under a wreath of myrtle, is now-a-days
hidden within the cavity of a church-door begging-box : and
Tom Moore can only claim the second part of the cele-
154
PATHEK PEOITT'S EEMQITES.
Drated line of Virgil, as the first evidently refers to Mr.
O'Connell ;
" Mre ciere viros — Martemque acoendere caniu,"
But I am digressing from the serious charge I mean to
bring against the author of that beautiful melody, " The
Shamrock." Does not Tom Moore know that there was
such a thing in Prance as the Irish brigade ? and does he
not fear and tremble lest the ghosts of that valiant crew,
whom he has robbed of their due honours, should, " in the
stiUy night, when slumber's chains have bound him," drag
his small carcass to the Styx, and give him a well-merited
sousing ? Por why should he exhibit as his production
their favourite song ? and what inefiable audacity to pawn
off on modern drawing-rooms as Ms own that glorious carol
which made the tents of Fontenoy ring with its exhilaratiag
music, and which old General Stack, who lately died at
Calais, used to sing so gallantly ?
€1)? ^i)ainrocfe.
A "Melody" of Tom Moore's, 1813.
Through Erin's isle,
To sport awhile,
As LoTO and Valour wander'd
With Wit the sprite,
Whose quiver bright
A thousand arrows squander'd :
Where'er they pass,
A triple grass
Shoots up, with dew-drops stream-
ing.
As softly green
As emeralds seen
Through purest crystal gleaming.
O the shamrock !
The green immortal shamrock!
Chosen leaf of bard and chief —
Old Erin's native shamrock !
Et Crtfle iCWattat.
Chanaon de la Brigade, 1748.
TTn jour en Hybernie,
D'Amottk le beau g^nie
Et le dieu de la Vaieue ftrent ren-
contre
Avee le " Bel Espbit,"
Oe dr61e qui se rit
De tout ce qui lui vient ^I'encontre;
Partout leur pas reveille*
Une herbe Si triple feuille,
Que la nuit humecta de ses pleurs,
Bt que la douce aurore
Eraichement fait edorre,
De I'emeraude eUe a les oouleurs.
Vive le trefle !
Vive le vert gazon !
De la patrie, terre ch^rie !
L'emblfeme est be! et bon !
Vaieue, d'un ton superbe. Says Valour, " See !
S'^crie, " Pour moi cette herbe They spring for me.
Crdit sit&t qu'elle me voit ioi pa- Those leafy gems of morning j"
raltre;"
* Alia lectio : parlout leur main recueille.
THE EOGrEEIES OF TOM MOOEE.
155
Amottr lui dit, " Non, non,
C'est moi que le gazon
Honore en ces bijoux qu'il fait
naitre :"
Mais Bei. Espbit dirige
Sur I'herbe ^ triple tige
tin ceil observateur, a sou tour,
" Pourquoi," dit-il, " defaice
Un noeud si beau, qui serre
En ce type Espbit, Vaietjb, et
Amoub I"
Vive le trefle !
Vive le vert gazon !
Be la patrie, terre cherie !
L'embleme est bel et bon !
Prions le Ciel qu'il dure
) Ce noeud, oil la nature
Voudraitvoirune etemeUe alliance;
Que nul venin jamais
JN'empoisonne les traits
Qu'a I'entour si gaiement 1'Espeit
lance!
Que nul tyrau ne rfeve
D'user le noble glaive
De la Vaibttb centre la liberte ;
Et que I'Amotte suspende
9a plus belle guirlande
Sur I'autel de la fidelite !
Vive le trefle !
Vive le vert gazon !
Se la patrie, terre cherie !
L'emblfeme est bel et bon !
Says Love, " Ifo, no,
For me they grow.
My fragrant path adorning.''
But Wit perceives
The triple leaves,
And cries, " O, do not sever
A type that blends
Three godhke friends —
Wit, Valour, Love, for ever !"
O the shamrock !
The green immortal shamrock!
Chosen leaf of bard and chief.
Old Erin's native shamrock !
So firm and fond
May last the bond
They wove that mom together ;
And ne'er may fall
One drop of gaU
On Wit's celestial feather !
May Love, as shoot
His flowers and fiTiit,
Of thorny falsehood weed them ;
Let Valour ne'er
His standard rear
Against the cause of freedom.
Or of the shamrock,
The green immortal shamrock!
Chosen leaf of bard and chief.
Old Erin's native shamrock !
Moliere haa written a pleasant and instructive comedy
entitled the Fourberies de Scapin, whicli I recommend to
Tom's perusal ; and in the " spelling-book" which I used
to con over when at the hedge-school with my foster-
brother George Knapp, who has since risen to eminence as
mayor of Cork, but with whom I used then to share the
reading of the " Universal SpeUing-Book" (having but one
between us), there is an awful story about "Tommy and
Harry," very capable of deterring youthful minds from evil
practices, especially the large wood-cut representing a lion
tearing the stomach of the luckless wight wh,o led a career
of wickedness. Had Tommy Moore been brought up pro-
perly (as Knapp and I were), he would not have committed
156
FATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQUBS.
SO many depredations, which he ought to know would be
discovered on him at last, and cause him bitterly to repent
his " rogueries."
With all my sense of indignation, unabated and unmiti-
gated at the unfairness with which O'Brien " of the round
towers" has been treated, and which has prompted me to
make disclosxires which would have otherwise slept with me
in the grave, I must do Moore the justice to applaud his
accurate, spirited, and sometimes exquisite translations from
recondite MSS. and other totally unexplored vratings of
antiquity. I felt it my duty, in the course of these stric-
tures, to denounce the version of Anacreon as a total failure,
only to be accounted for by the extreme youth and inexpe-
rience of the subsequently matured and polished melodist ;
but there is an obscure Greek poet, called Sraxxos MogpiS^js,
whose ode on whisky, or negus, composed about the six-
teenth olympiad, according to the chronology of Archbishop
Usher, he has splendidly and most literally rendered into
English Anacreontic verse, thus :
{Stat nominis umbra.)
!Sr£l//b>/lCV OVV KUTTfWoV
Toig avQtfioitji 4'^'XV5t
Tots (pipraTots ifipcvte y' a
'HfiLV Svvaivr' tiptvptiv^
Tavrg yap ovpavovde
Ty VVKTL 8el TTSTaaQatj
Tawri/i' XiTTovTEQ atav.
El y' OVV Ep(0£ \a9oiro
Toig UTtjinaTiatt' k Ttpi^ij
'H/iiv jiayoQ SiSiiiaiv,
OvTTiti potog ytvoiTO,
*Qc yap napeffTiv oivoQj
Baipwuev Hye Kcvrei,
*S2g fiot \eyovffif vsKrap
IlaXai cirivov 'HPAI
Kat ZHNE2 r]Se «OIBOI.
'EKiari Kai ^poroiaiv
'H/t»" trouiv TO viKTap'
HoiriTCCv yap oiSf
<Bn TOli^tSfeg or Jgegus.
By Moore.
Wreathe the bowl
With flowers of soul
The brightest wit can find ue ;
We'll take a flight
Towards heaven to-night.
And leave dull earth behind us.
Should Love amid
The wreath be hid,
That joy th' enchanter brings us ;
No danger fear
WhUe wine is near —
We'U drown him if he stings us.
Then wreathe the bowl, &b. &o.
'Twas nectar fed
Of old, 'tis said.
Their Junes, Joves, Apollos j
And man may brew
His nectar too —
The rich receipt's as follows :
THE EOaUEBIES OF TOM MOOEE. 157
TovTOv \a€ovTBQ oevov, Taie wine Kte tliis,
Tow xapnaroe jrpoffwTroiff Let looks of bKss
A/t0t aKv<tiOQ (TTsipovree, Around it weU be blended ;
Tore ^pevmv fauvr,v Then bring wit's beam
nor(^ Xeovrie avyriv, To warm the stream—
Itfou, ■n-apidTi viicrap. And there's your neotar splendid.
Then wreathe the bowl, &o. &o.
TiTrr' ovv XpovoQ yc '^aiifuf Say, why did Time
Triv K\6\pvSpav nrXiqat His glass sublime
Ti)v aykarjv auKei ; Kll up with sands unsightly,
Eu fiev yap otSev oivov When wine, he knew,
TaxvTtpov diappuv, Euns brisker through,
SriXTTj/urtpoj/ T£ XajiTttiv And sparkles far more brightly ?
Aof ovv. dog rjfiiv avTtjv, O lend it us,
Koi iinSiuivTiQ ovTwQ And, smiling, thus
Triv KXtxjjvdpav crxi<ravTeg, The glass in two we'd serer,
Uoirjcroftsv ys InrXiii Make pleasure ghde
PiXv nSoviiv peeeptp In double tide,
Einr\r,(TOiitv S' eraipoi And fill both ends for ever.
Vpw "vrrj eg am. Xhen wreathe the bowl, &o. &o.
Such carefully finished translations as this from Iraiixos,
in which not an. idea or beauty of the Grreek is lost in the
English version, must necessarily do Tommy infinite credit ;
and the only drawback on the abundant praise which I
should otherwise feel inclined to bestow on the Anacreontic
versifier, is the fatal neglect, or perhaps wilful treachery,
which has led him to deny or suppress the sources of his
inspiration, and induced him to appear in the discreditable
fashion of an Irish jackdaw in the borrowed plumage of a
Grecian peacock. The splendour of poesy, like " Malachy's
eoUar of gold," is round his neck ; but he won it from a
stranger : the green glories of the emerald adorn his flow-
ing crest — or, as Phsedrus says,
" Nitor smaragdi coUo refulget tuo — "
but if you ruffle his feathers a little, you will find that his
literary toilette is composed of what the Prench coiffeurs
call des ornemens pastiches ; and that there was never a more
called-for declaration than the avowal which he himself
makes in one of his Melodies, when, talking of the wild
strains of the Irish harp, he admits, he " was hut the wind
158 FATHEE PEOTJT's SEMQrBS.
passing heedlessly over " its chords, and that the music waa bj
no means his own.
A simple hint was sometimes enough to set his muse at
work ; and he not only was, to my knowledge, an adept ia
translating accurately, but he could also string together
any number of lines in any given measure, in imitation of a
song or ode which casually came in his way. This is not
such arrant robbery as what I have previously stigmatised ;
but it is a sort of jMasi-pilfering, a kind of petty larceny,
not to be encouraged. There is, for instance, his " National
Melody," or jingle, called, in the early edition of his poems,
" Those Evening Bells," a " Petersburg air;" of which I could
unfold the natural history. It is this : — In one of his fre-
quent visits to WatergrasshOl, Tommy and I spent the even-
ing in talking of our continental travels, and more particu-
larly of Paris and its mirabilia ; of which he seemed quite
enamoured. The view from the tower of the central church,
N6tre Dame, greatly struck his fancy ; and I drew the con-
versation to the subject of the simultaneous ringing of all
the bells in all the steeples of that vast metropolis on some
feast-day, or public rejoicing. The effect, he agreed with
me, is most enchanting, and the harmony most surprising.
At that time Victor Hugo had not written his glorious ro-
mance, the Hunchback Quasimodo ; and, consequently, I
could not have read his beautiful description : " In an ordi-
nary way, the noise issuing from Paris in the day-time ia
the talking of the city ; at night, it is the breathing of the,
city ; in this case, it is the singing of the city. Lend your
ear to this opera of steeples. Diffuse over the whole the
buzzing of half a million of human beings, the eternal mur-
mur of the river, the infinite piping of the wind, the grave
and distant quartette of the four forests, placed like im-
mense organs on the four hills of the horizon ; soften down
as with a demi-tint all that is too shrill and too harsh in the
central mass of sound,— rand say if you know anything in
the world more rich, more gladdening, more dazzling, than
that tumult of bells — than that furnace of music — than
those ten thousand brazen tones, breathed all at once from
flutes of stone three hundred feet high — than that city which
is but one orchestra — than that symphony, rushing and
roaring Kke a tempest." All these ^^atters, we agreed,
THE BOGUEfilES OE TOM MOOEE.
159
■were very fine ; but there is nothing, after all, like the asso-
ciations which early infancy attaches to the well-known and
long-remembered chimes of our own parish-steeple : and no
magic can equal the effect on our ear when returning after
long absence in foreign, and perhaps happier countries. As
we perfectly coincided in the truth of this observation, I
added, that long ago, while at Eome, I had throvm my ideas
into the shape of a song, which I would sing him to the
tune of the " Grroves."
THE SHANDON BELLS*
Sabbata pango,
JTuncra plango,
S>oUiimta tlango.
With deep affection
And recollection
I often think of
Those Shaudon bells,
Whose sounds so wild would,
In the days of childhood,
Fling round my cradle
Their magic spells.
On this I ponder
Where'er I wander,
And thus grow fonder,
Sweet Cort, of thee ;
With thy bells of Shandon,
That sound so grand on
The pleasant waters
-Of the river Lee.
I've heard bells chiming
Eull many a cUme in,
Tolling sublime in
Cathedral shrine.
While at a gUbe rate
Brass tongues would yibrate —
Inscrip. on an old Bell,
But all their music
Spoke naught like thine 5
For memory dwelUng
On each proud sweUing
Of the belfry knelling
Its bold notes free,
Made the beUs of Shandon
Sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters
Of the river Lee.
I've heard bells toUing
Old "Adrian's Mole" in,
Their thunder rolling
Erom the Vatican,
And cymbals glorious
Swinging uproarious
In the gorgeous turrets
Of lSr6tre Dame ;
But thy sounds were sweeter
Than the dome of Peter
Flings o'er the Tiber,
Pealing solemnly 5—
* The spire of Shandon, built on the ruins of old Shaudon Castle
(for which see the plates in "PaoataHybemia"), is a prominent object,
fi-om whatever side the traveller approaches our beautiful eity. In a
vault at its foot sleep some generations of the writer'^ kith and kin.
IGO TATHEE PEOTJT'S EBIiIQTTES.
O ! the bells of Shandou Prom tlie tapering summit
Sound far more grand on Of tall minarets.
The pleasant waters Such empty phantom
Of the river Lee. I freely grant them ;
But there is an anthem
There's a bell in Moscow, More dear to me, —
While on tower and kiosk o ! 'Tis the beUs of Shandon,
In Saint Sophia That sound so grand on
The Turkman gets, The pleasant waters
And loud in air Of the rirer Lee.
Calls men to prayer
Shortly afterwards, Moore published his " Eremng Bells,
a 'Petersburg air." But any one can see that he only rings
a few changes on my Eoman ballad, cunningly shifting the
scene as far north as he could, to avoid detection. He de-
serves richly to be sent on a hurdle to Siberia.
I do not feel so much hurt at this nefarious "belle's
stratagem " regarding me, as at his wickedness towards the
man of the round towers ; and to this matter I turn in con- .
elusion.
" O blame not the bard !" some folks wUl no doubt ex-
claim, and perhaps think that I have been over-severe on
Tommy, in my vindication of O'B. ; I can only say, that if
the poet of all circles and the idol of his own, as soon as this
posthumous rebuke shall meet his eye, begins to repent him
of his wicked attack on my young friend, and, turning him
from his evil ways, betakes him to his proper trade of ballad-
making, then shall he experience the comfort of living at
peace with all mankind, and old Front's blessing shall fall
as a precious ointment on his head. In that contingency
if (as I understand it to be his intention) he should happen,
to publish sb fresh number of his " Melodies," may it be emi-
nently successful ; and may Power of the Strand, by some
more sterling sounds than the echoes of fame, be convinced
of the power of song —
!For it is not the magic of streamlet or hill :
0 no ! it is something that sounds in the " till !"
My humble patronage, it is true, cannot do much for him in
fashionable circlfs ; for I never mixed much in the beau
THE EOGTJEKIES OF TOM MOOEE. 161
monde (at least in Ireland) during my life-time, and can be of
no service of course when I'm dead; nor will his "Melodies,"
I fear, though weU. adapted to mortal piano-fortes, answer
the purposes of that celestial choir in which I shall then be
an obscure but cheerful vocalist. But as I have touched
on this grave topic of mortality, let Moore recollect that hia
course here below, however harmonious in the abstract,
must have a finale ; and at his last hour let him not treasure
up for himself the unpleasant retrospect of young genius
nipped in the bud by the frost of his criticism, or glad en-
thusiasm's early promise damped by inconsiderate sneers.
O'Brien's book can, and will, no doubt, aiFord much matter
for witticism and merriment to the superficial, the unthink-
ing, and the profane ; but to the eye of candour it ought to
have presented a page richly fraught with wondrous research
— redolent with all the perfumes of Hindostan ; its leaves,
if they faUed to convince, should, Uke those of the myste-
rious lotus, have inculcated silence ; and if the finger of me-
ditation did not rest on every line, and pause on every pe-
riod, the volume, at least, should not be radicated to the
vulgar by the finger of scorn. Even granting that there
were in the book some errors of fancy, of judgment, or of
style, which of us is without reproach in ova juvenile produc-
tions ? and though I myself am old, I am the more inclined
to forgive the inaccuracies of youth. Again, when all is
dark, who would object to a ray of light, merely because of
the faulty or flickering medium by which it is iiansmitted ?
And if these round towers have been hitherto a dark puzzle
and a mystery, must we scare away O'Brien because he ap-
proaches with a rude and unpolished but serviceable lantern ?
No ; forbid it, Diogenes : and though Tommy may attempt
to put his extinguisher on the towers and their historian,
there is enough of good sense in the British public to miake
common cause with O'Brien the enlightener, Moore should
recollect, that knowledge conveyed in any shape will ever
find a welcome among us ; and that, as he himself beautifully
observes in his " Loves of the Angels" —
" Sunshine broken in the rill,
Though turned aside, is sunshine still."
For my own part, I protest to Heaven, that were I, while
M
162 TATSEE PEOTJT'S EELIQUES.
wandering in a gloomy forest, to meet on my dreary path
the small, faint, glimmering light even of a glow-worm, I
should shudder at the thought of crushing with my foot that
dim speck of briUiancy ; and were it only for ibs being akin
to brighter rays, honouring it for its relationship to the
stars, I would not harm the Uttle lamplighter as I passed
along in the woodland shade.
If Tommy is rabidly bent on satire, why does he not fall
foul of Doctor Lardner, who has got the clumsy machinery
of a whoje , Cyclppaedia at woi^k, grinding that nonsense
which.lie calls " XFseful Knowledge?" Letthe pp^t mount
his EegaauSj'Or his;Ild3inante, and go . tilt a. lance against
the doctor's windmill. It was unworthy of him to turn on
0/Brien, after the intimacy of private correspondence.; and
if he was inclined for battle, he, might have found a seemlier
foe, Surely my young friend was not the quarry on which
the vulture should . delight to. pqimce,"When there are so
many literary yeptiles to tempt his beak and glut his maw!
Heaven knows, there is fair game and plentiful carrion on
the plains of Boeotia. In the poet's picture of the pursuits
of a royal bird, we find, such sports alluded to —
" Id* reluotantes dracones '' . " '
Egit amor dapis atque pugnse."
Let Mopre, then, vent his indignation and satiate his vpra-
city on theproper objects of a volatile of prey ; but' he wiU
find in his own province pf imaginative poetry a kindlier
element, a purer atmosphere, fpr his winged excjir,si;pns.
Leng, long may we behold the gorgeous bird soaring thrpugh
the regions of inspiratiisn, distinguished in .hjs Ipffier as in
his gentler flights, and combining, by a singular miracle of
ornithology, the voice of the turtle-dove, the eagle's eye and
wing, with the plumage of the " bird of Paradise."
Mem. — On the 2%th of June, 1835, died, at the Hermitage,
Hanwell, " Henry O'Brien, author of the Round Towers of
Ireland." His portrait was hung up in the gallery of
Eegina on the 1st pf August following ; and the functionary
who exhibits the " Literary Characters" dwelt thus on his
merits :
HENET o'BEIEIT. 163
In the village graveyard of Hanwell (ad viii. ab urbe lapidem) sleeps
the original of yonder sketch, and the rude forefathers of the Saxon
hamlet have consented to receive among them the clay of a Milesian
scholar. That " original" was no stranger to ns. Some time hack we
had our misgivings that the oil in his flickering lamp of life would soon
dry up J stiU, we were not prepared to hear of his Ught being thus
abruptly extinguished. " One mom we missed him." from the accus-
tomed table at the library of the British Museum, where the page of
antiquity awaited his perusal ; " another came — nor yet " was he to be
seen behind the pile of "Asiatic ResearcheB," poring over his favourite
Herodotus, or deep in the Zendavesta. "The next" brought tidings
of his death.
" Au banquet de la vie, infortim^ convive,
J'apparus un jour, et je meurs :
Je meurs, et sur la. tombe oil, jeuue enoor, j'arrive
Nul ne viendra verser des pleurs."
His book on " the Bound Towers " has thrown more light on the early
history of Ireland, and on the freemasonry of these gigantic puzzles,
than win ever shme from the cracked pitchers of the " Boyal Irish
Academy," or the farthing candle of Tommy Moore. And it was quite
natural that he should have received from them, during his lifetime,
such tokens of malignant hostility as might sufficiently " tell how they
hated his beams." The "Koyat Irish" twaddlers must surely feel
some compunction now, when they look back on their paltry trans-
actions in the matter of the " prize-essay ;" and though we do not ex-
pect much from " Tom Brown the younger," or " Tom Little," the
author of sundry Tomfudgeries and Tomfooleries, stUI it would not
surprise us if he now felt the necessity of atoning . for his individual
misconduct by doing appropriate penance in a white sheet, or a " blue
and yeUow" blanket, when next he walks abroad in that rickety go-
cart of driveUing dotage, the " Edinburgh Eeview."
While Cicero was quaestor in Sicily, he discovered in the suburbs of
Syracuse the neglected grave of Arcliimedes, from the circumstance of
a symbolical cylinder indicating the pursuits and favourite theories of
the illustrious dead. &reat was his joy at the recognition. No emblem
will mark the sequestered spot where lies the CBdipus of the Bound
Tower riddle — ^no hieroglyphic, '
" Save daisies on the mould,
Where cMldren spell, athwart the churchyard gate,
His name and life's brief date."
But ye who wish for monuments to his memory, go to his native land,
and there — circumspicite ! — GHendalough, Devenish, Clondalkin, Innis-
oattery, rear their architectural cylinders j and each, through those
mystic apertures that face the cardinal points, proclaims to the four
winds of heaven, trumpet-tongued, the name of him who solved the
M 2
164 TATHBE JEOTTT'S EELIQTJES.
problem of 3000 years, and who first disclosed the drift of these
erections !
Fame, in the Ija,trn poet's celebrated personification, is described as
perched
" Sublimi cvJmine tecti,
Xurribus aut altis."
^neid IV.
That of O'B. is pre-eminently so ciroumstaiioed. From these proud
pinnacles nothing can dislodge his renown. Moore, in the recent pitiful
compilation meant for " a history," talks of these monuments as being
bO many " astronomical indexes." He might as well have said they
were tubes for the purposes of gastronomy. 'Tis plain he knew as little
about their origin as he may be supposed to know of the " Hanging
Tower of Pisa," or the " Torre degU Asinelli," or how the nose of the
beloved resembled the tower of Damascus.
Concerning the subject of this memoir, suffice it to add that he was
bom in the kingdom of Iveragh, graduated in T.O.D. (having been
classically "brought up at the feet of" the Bev. Charles Boyton) j and
fell a victim here to the intense ardour with which he pursued the anti«
quarian researches that he loved.
" Eerria me genuit ; studia, heu ! rapufere ; tenet nunc
Anglia ! sed patriam turrigeram ceoini."
Regent Street, August 1, 1835.
No. VI.
LITEEATrEB AND THE JESUITS.
" Alii spem geutis adultos
■Bducunt foetus : alii purissima mella
Stipant, et liquido distendnut nectare cellas."
Visa. Georgia IV.
" Through flowery paths
Skilled to guide youth, in haunts where learning dwells.
They filled with hone/d lore their cloistered cells."
Peout.
The massacre this montli by a brutal populace in Madrid
of fourteen Jesuits, in the haU of their college of 8fc.
LITEBATrBE AND THE JESUITS. 165
Isidore, has drawn somewhat of notice, if not of sympathy,
to this singular order of literati, whom we never fail, for
the last three hundred years, to find mixed up with every
political disturbance. There is a certain species of bird
weU known to ornithologists, but better still to mariners,
which is sure to make its appearance in stormy weather — so
constantly indeed, as to induce among the sailors (durum
genus) a belief that it is the fowl that has raised the tem-
pest. Leaving this knotty point to be settled by Dr.
Lardner in his " Cyclopaedia," at the article of " Mother
Carey's chickens," we cannot help observing, meantime,
that since the days of the Prench League under Henri
Trois, to the late final expidsion of the hranche ainie (an
event which has marked the commencement of Eegina's
accession to the throne of literature), as well in the revo-
lutions of Portugal as in the vicissitudes of Venice, in the
revocation of the edict of Nantz, in the expulsion of James
II., in the severance of the Low Countries from Spain, in
the invasion of Africa by Don Sebastian, in the Scotch re-
bellion of '45, in the conquest of China by the Tartars, in
all the Irish rebellions, from Father Salmeron in 1561, and
Father Archer (for whom see " Pacata Hibemia"), to that
anonymous Jesuit who (according to Sir Harcourt Lees)
threw the bottle at the Lord Lieutenant in the Dublin
theatre some years ago, — there is always one of this ill-
fated society found in the thick of the confusion —
" And whether for good, or whether for ill,
It is not mine to Bay ;
But still to the house of Amundeville
He abideth night and day !
When an heir is bom, he is heard to mourn,
And when ought is to befall
That ancient Kne, in the pale moonaJUne
He walks from, hall to hall."
BTEOlf.
However, notwithstanding the various and manifold com-
motions which these Jesuits have confessedly kicked up in
the kingdoms of Europe and the commonwealth of Christen-
dom, we, Oliteb Toeee, must admit that they have not
deserved iU of the Republic of Letters; and therefore do we
166 FATHEE PEOTJT'S EEIIQTJES.
decidedly set our face against the Madrid process of knock-
ing out their brains ; for, in our view of things, the pineal
gland and the cerebellum are not kept in such a high state
of cidtivation in Spain as to render superfluous a few col-
leges and professors of the literce humaniores. George Knapp,
the Tigilant mayor of Cork, was, no doubt, greatly to be
applauded for demolishing with his civic club the mad dogs
which invested his native town ; and he would have won
immortal laurels if he had furthermore cleared that beautiful
city of the idlers, gossips, and cynics, who therein abound ;
but it was a great mistake of the Madrid folks to apply the
club to the learned skulls of the few literati they possessed.
We are inclined to think (though full of respect for Eobert
Southey's opinion) that, after all, Eoderick was not the last
of the Goths in Spain.
When the Cossacks got into Paris in 1814, their first ex-
ploit was to eat up all the tallow candles of the conquered
metropolis, and to drink the train oil out of the lamps, so
as to leave the "Botdevards" in Cimmerian darkness. By
murdering the schoolmasters, it would seem that the parti-
sans of Queen Christina would have no great objection to
a similar municipal arrangement for Madrid. But aU this
is a matter of national taste ; and as our gracious Eegina is
no party to " the quadruple alliance," she has determined to
adhere to her fixed system of non-intervention.
Meantime the public will peruse with some curiosity a
paper from Father Prout, concerning his old masters in
literature. We suspect that on this occasion sentimental
gratitude has begotten a sort of "drop serene" in his eye,
for he only winks at the rogueries of the Jesuits ; nor does
he redden for them the gridiron on which he gently roasts
Dr. Lardner and Tom Moore. But the great merit of the
essay is, that the composer evidently had opportunities of a
thorough knowledge of his subject--a matter of rare occur-
rence, and therefore quite refreshing. He appears, indeed,
to be fiilly aware of his vantage-ground : hence the tone of
confidence, and the firm, unhesitating tenour of his asser-
tions. This is what we like to see. A chancellor of England
who rarely got drunk. Sir Thomas More, has left this bit of
advice to folks in general :
LITEEATTTEE AND THE JESUITS. 167
i!l!f3ise men altDage another facuItU.
afGtme anti sag tH gimyU |)atttT
tjbat m beat {o( a man sf)oulO not go smattet
tliligentlp in )i)jilogOjpf|ie ;
for to applp nor augi)t a jietitilar
to tbe ousiness! i)e tan, ibecome a metifilar
anti in no tngse in t][)eologie,*
to cntetpctse
Acting on this principle, how gladly would we open our
columns to a treatise by our particular friend, Marie Taglioni,
on the philosophy of hops ! — how cheerfully would we wel-
come an essay on heavy wet from the pen of Dr. "Wade, or
of Jack Eeeve, or any other similarly quaMed. Chevalier
de Malte ! We should not object to a tract on gin from
Charley Pearson ; nor would we exclude Lord Althoi^p's
thick notions on "Jlummery," or Lord Brougham's XXX.
ideas on that mild alcohol which, for the sake of peace and
quietness, we shall call " tea." Who would not listen with
attention to Irving on a matter of " unknown tongues," or
to O'Brien on " Bound Towers P" Verily it belongeth to
old Benjamin IFrauklin to write scientifically on the paraton-
nire ; and his contemporary, Talleyrand, has a paramount
elaim to lecture on the weather-cock.
" Sumite materiam vestris qui scribitia sequam
ViribuB."
Turning finally to thee, O Prout! truly great was thy
love of frolic, but still more remarkable thy wisdom. Thou
wert a most rare combination of Socrates and Sancho Panza,
of Scarron and the venerable Bede ! What would we not
have given to have cracked a bottle with thee in thy hut on
Watergrasshill, partaking of thy hospitable " herring," and
imbibing thy deep flood of knowledge with the plenitude of
thy " Medoc ?" Nothing gloomy, narrow, or pharisaical,
ever entered into thy composition — " In wit, a man ; sim-
plicity, a child." The wrinkled brow of antiquity softened
into smiles for thee ; and the Muses must have marked thee
* See this excellent didactic poem printed at length in the elaborate
pre&ce to Dr. Johnson's Dictionary. It is entitled, " A merrie Jest,
how a Sarjeant woiild leam to play y" Frere ; by Maister Thomas More,
in hys youthe."
168 rATHEK pbotjt's eeliques.
in thy eradle for their own. Such is the perfume that
breathes from thy chest of posthumous elucubrations, con-
veying a sweet fragrance to the keen nostrils of criticism,
and recalling the funeral oration of the old woman in Phse-
drus over her emptied flagon —
" O suavis anima ! quale te dicam bonum
Anteh^ fuisse, tales cvlm sint reliquiae."
OLIVER TOEKE.
Regent Street, \at Sept. 1834.
WatergraasMU, Dec. 1833.
Aboitt the middle of the sixteenth century, after the
vigorous arm of an Augustinian monk had sounded on the
banks of the Ehiue that loud tocsia of reform that found
such responsive echo among the Gothic steeples of Germany,
there arose in southern Europe, as if to meet the exigency
«f the time, a body of popish men, who have been called
(assuredly by no friendly nomenclator) the Janissaries of
the Vatican. Professor Robertson, in his admirable " His-
tory of Charles V.," introduces a special episode concerning
the said "janissaries ;" and, sinking for a time the affairs of
the belligerent continent, turns his grave attention to the
operations of the children of Loyola. The essay forms an
agreeable interlude in the melodrama of contemporary war-
fare, and is exquisitely adapted to the purpose of the pro-
fessor; whose object was, I presume, to furnish his readers
with a light divertimento. Eor surely and soberly (^pace
tanti viri dixerim) he did not expect that his theories on the
origin, development, and mysterious organisation of that
celebrated society, would pass current with any save the
uninitiated and the profane ; nor did he ever contemplate
the adoption of his speculations by any but the careless and
unreflecting portion of mankind. It was a capital peg on
which to hang the flimsy mantle of a superficial philosophy j
it was a pleasant race-ground over which to canter on the
gentle back of a metaphysical hobby-horse : but what could
a Presbyterian of Edinburgh, even though a pillar of the
kirk, kno;w about the inmost and most recondite workings
MTEEATUBE AUD THE JEStTH^. 169
of Catholic freemasonry ? What could he tell of JeruBalem-,
he being a Samaritan? Truly, friend Eobertson, Father
Prout would have taken the liberty, had he been in the his-
torical workshop where thou didst indite that ilk, of acting
the unceremonious part of " Cynthius" in the eclogue :
" Aurem
Vellit et admonuit, ' Pastorem, Tityre, pingues
Pascere oportet otob, deductum dioere carmen.' "
What could have possessed the professor ? Did he ever
go through the course of " spiritual exercises ?" Did he ever
eat a peck of salt with Loyola's intellectual and highly
disciplined sons ? " Had he ever manifested his conscience ?"
Did his venturous foot ever cross the threshold of the Jesui-
tical sanctuary? Was he deeply versed in the "ratio
itudiorum." Had his ear ever drank the mystic whisperings
of the monita secreta ? No ! Then why the deuce did he
sit down to write about the Jesuits ? Had he not the
Brahmins of India at his service ? Could he not take up
the dervishes of Persia ? or the bonzes of Japan ? or the
illustrious brotherhood of Bohemian gipsies ? or the " ancient
order of Druids ?" or aU of them together ? But, va. the
name of Cornelius &. Lapide, why did he undertake to write
about the Jesuits ?
I am the more surprised at the learned historian's thus
indulging in the Homeric luxury of a transient nap, as he
generally is broad awake, and scans with scrutinising eye
the doings of his feUow-men through several centuries of
interest. To talk about matters of which he must necessa-
rily be ignorant, never occurs (except in this case) to his
comprehensive habit of thought: and it was reserved for
modem days to produce that school of writers who Indus--
triously employ their pens on topics the most exalted above
their range of mind, and the least adapted to their powers
of illustration. The more ignorance, the more audacity.
"Prince Buckler Muskaw" and "Lady Morgan" fnrijish
the heau iddal of this class of scribblers. Let them get but
a peep at the "toe of Hercules," and they will produce
forthwith an accurate mezzotinto drawing of his entire
godship. Let them get a footing in any country in the
habitable globe for twenty -four hours, and their volume of
170 TATHEB PEOrr's EELIQTTES.
" Prance," " England," « Italy," or « Belgium" is ready for
the press.
" Oh give but a glance, let a vista but gleam,
Of any given country, and mark how they'll feel !"
It is not necessary that they should know the common
idiom of the natives, or even their own language grammati-
cally ; for Lady Morgan (aforesaid) stands convicted, in her
printed rhapsodies, of beiag very little acquainted with
French, and not at all with Italian : while her English, of
which every one can judge, is poor enough. The Austrian
authorities shut the gates of Germany against her impos-
tures, not relishing the idea of such audacious humbug : in
truth, what could she have done at Vienna, not knowing
German ; though perhaps her obstetric spouse, Sir Charles,
pan play on the German flute ?
" Lasciami por' neUa terra il piede
B vider' questi inconosciuti Udi,
Vider' le gente, e il colto di lor fede,
E tutto queUo onde uom Baggio m' iuvidi,
Quando mi giover^ narrare altrui
Le novitk vedute, e dire, ' iofui !' "
Tabso, Gems. Lib. cant, 15, St. 38.
There is in the county of Kildare a veritable Jesuits'
college (of whose existence Sir Harcourt Lees is well satis-
fied, having often denounced it) : it is called " Clongowes
Wood ;" and even the sacred " Groves of Blarney" do not
so well deserve the honours of a pilgrimage as this haunt of
classic leisure and studious retirement. Now Lady Morgan,
wanted to explore the learned cave of these literary coeno-
bites, and no doubt would have written a book, entitled
" Jesuitism in all its Branches," on her return to Dublin ;
but the sons of Loyola smelt a rat, and acted on the prin-
ciple inculcated in the legend of St. Senanus (Colgan. Acta
S8. Hyb.) :
" Quid fcsminis
Commune est cum monachis p
Nee te neo ullam aliam '
Admittamus in insulam."
For which Front's blessing on 'em ! Amen.
In glaring contrast and striking opposition to this system
of forwardness and effrontery practised by the " lady" and
LITEEATtTEE AND THE JESriTS. 171
the " prince," stands the exemplary conduct of Denny Mnl-
lins. Denny is a patriot and a breeches-maker in the town
of Cork, the oracle of the " Chamber of Commerce," and
looked up to with great reverence by the radicals and sans
culottes who swarm in that beautiful city. The excellence
of his leather hunting unmentionables is admitted by the
Mac-room fox-hunters ; while his leather gaiters and his other
straps are approved of by John Cotter of the branch bank
of Ireland. But this is a mere parenthesis. Now when the
boys in the Morea were kicking against the Sublime .Porte,
to the great delight of Joe Hume and other Corinthians,
a grand political dinner occurred in the beautiful capital of
Munster ; at which, after the usual flummery about Mara-
thon and the Peloponnesus, the health of Prince Tpsilanti
and "Success to the Grreeks" was given from the chair. ,
There was a general call for Mulhns to speak on this toast ;
though why he should be selected none could tell, unless for
the reason which caused the Athenians to banish Aristides,
viz. his being " too honest." Denny rose and rebuked their
waggery by protesting, that, " though he was a plain man,
he could always give a reason for what he was about. Aa
to the modern Greeks, he would think twice before he either
trusted them or refused them credit. He knew little about
their forefathers, except what he had read in an author
called Pope's ' Homer,' who s^ja they were ' well-gaitered ;'
and he had learned to respect them. But latterly, to call a
man a ' Greek' was, in his experience of the world, as bad
as to call him * a Jesuit;' though, in both eases, few people
had ever any personal knowledge of a real Jesuit or a bond
fide Grecian." Such was the wisdom of the Aristides of
Cork.
Nevertheless, it is not my intention to enter on the de-
batable ground of " the order's" moral or political character.
Cemtti, the secretary of Mirabeau (whose funeral oration
he was chosen to pronounce bx the church of St. Bustache,
April 4, 1791), has written most eloquently on that topic ;
and in the whole range of French polemics I know nothing
so full of manly logic and genuine energy of style as his
celebrated "Apologie des Jesuites," (8vo. Soleure, 1773).
He afterwards conducted, with Eabaud St. Etienne, that
firebrand newspaper, "La Eeuille VUlageoise," in which
172 FATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQTJES.
there was red-hot enthusiasm enough to get all the chdteaux
round Paris burnt : but the work of his youth remains an
imperishable performance. My object is simply to consider-
"the Jesuits" in connexion with literature. None would
1)0 more opposed than I to the introduction of polemics into
the domain of the " belles lettres," or to let angry disputation
find its way into the peaceful vale of Temp^
" Pour changer en champ-olos I'harmonieux rallon !"
MiLLETOTE.
The precincts of Parnassus form a "city of refuge,"
where political and religious differences can have no access,
where the angry passions subside, and the wicked cease from
troubling. Wherefore to the devil, its inventor, I bequeath
the Grunpowder Plot ; and I shall not attempt to rake up the
bones of Guy Faux, or disturb the ashes of Doctor Titus : —
not that Titus, " the delight of the human race," who conr
sidered a day as lost when not signalised by some bene-
faction ; but Titus Gates, who could not sleep quiet on
his pillow at night unless he had hanged a Jesuit in the
morning.
I have often in the course of these papers introduced quo-
tations from the works of the Jesuit Gresset, the kind and
enlightened friend of my early years ; and to that pure foun-
tain of the most limpid poetry of Prance I shall again have
occasion to return : but nothing more evinces the sterling
excellence of this illustrious poet's mind than his conduct
towards the " order," of which he had been an omamenfc
imtil matters connected with the press caused his withdrawal
from that society. His " Adieux aux J^suites" are on re-
cord, and deserve the admiration which they excited at that
period. A single passage will indicate the spirit of this
celebrated composition :
" Je doiB tou8 mea regrets aux eagea que je quitte !
J'en perda aveo douleur I'entretien vertueux ;
Ht ai dana leura foyera d^ormaia je n'habite,
Mon coeur me aurvit aupr^a d'eux.
Car ne lea croia point tela que la main de I'envio
Lea peint Si des yeui pr^-enua !
Si tu ne lea connaia que aur ce qu'en publiA
Ija ten^breuse oalonmie,
Ha te sont encore inconuus I"
HTEEATUEE AND THE JEStTITS, 173
To the sages I leave here's a heartfelt fareweU!
'Xwas a blessing withm their lored cloisters to dwell,
And my dearest affections shall cling round them still !
FuU gladly I mixed their blessed circles among.
And oh ! heed not the whisper of Envy's foul tongue ;
If you list but to her, you must know them but iU.
But to come at once to the pith and substance of the
present inquiry, viz. the influence of the Jesuits on the
belles lettres. It is one of the striking facts "we meet with
in tracing the history of this " order," and which D'Israeli
may do well to iasert in the next edition of his " Curiosities
of Literature," that the founder of the most learned, and
by far the most distinguished literary corporation that ever
arose in the world, was an old soldier who took up his " Latin
Grammar" when past the age of thirty ; at which time of
life Don Ignacio de Loyola had his leg shattered by an
18-pounder, while defending the citadel of Pampeluna against
the French. The knowledge of this interesting truth may
encourage the great captain of the age, whom I do not yet
despair of beholding in- a new capacity, covering his laurelled
brow with a doctor's cap, and filling the chancellor's chair to
the great joy of the public and the special delight of Oxford.
I have seen more improbable events than this take place ia
my experience of the world. Be that as it may, this lieu-
tenant in the Ca9adore8 of his imperial majesty Charles V.,
called into existence by the vigour of his mind a race of
highly educated followers. He was the parent-stock (or, if
you wUl, the primitive block) from which so many illustrious
chips were hewn during the XVIIth century. If he had
not intellect for his own portion, he most undeniably created
it around him : he gathered to his standard men of genius
and ardent spirits ; he knew how to turn their talents to the
best advantage (no ordinary knowledge), and, like Archi-
medes at Syracuse, by the juxtaposition of reflectors, and
the skilful combination of mirrors, so as to converge into a
focus and concentrate the borrowed rays of the sun, he con-
trived to damage the enemy's fleet and fire the galleys of '
Marcellus. Other founders of monastic orders enlisted the
prejudices, the outward senses, and not unfrequently the
fanaticism of mankind : their appeal was to that love for the
marvellous inherent to the human breast, and that latent
].74
FATHEE PEOn'S EELIQTTES.
pride which lurked long ago under the torn blanket of Dio-
genes, and which would have tempted Alexander to set up
a rival tub. But Loyola's quarry was the cultivated mind;
and he scorned to work his purpose by any meaner instru-
mentality. When in the romantic hermitage of our Lady
of Montserrat he suspended for ever over the altar his hel-
met and his sword, and in the spirit of most exalted chivalry
resolved to devote himself to holier pursuits — one eagle
glance at the state of Europe, just fresh from the revival of
letters under Leo X., taught him how and with what wea-
pons to encounter the rebel Augustinian monk, and check
the progress of disaffection. A short poem by an old school-
fellow of mine, who entered the order in 1754, and died a
missionary in Cochin China, may illustrate these views. The
Latin shows excellent scholarship ; and my attempt at trans-
lation can give but a feeble idea of the original.*
33ei:6igilmm ILogoIae
In Maria Sacello, 1522.
Chra bellicosuB Cantaber e tholo
Suspendit ensem, " Non ego lu-
gubri
Defunota beUo," dixit, " arma
Degener aut timidus perire
Miles resigno. Me nova buo-
eina,
Me non profani tessera prselii
Deposcit ; et sacras secutus
Auspicio meliore partes,
ITon indecorus transfuga, glorise
Signis reliotis, nil cupientium
Suceedo castris, jam futurus
Splendidior sine elade victor.
Domare mentes, stringere fer-
, vidis
Sacro catenis nfaENiTrM throno,
Et cunota terrarum subacta
Corda Deo dare gestit ardor :
JBon Ignacto Itopnla't! "Figil
In the Chapelof our Lady of Montserrat,
When at thy shrine, most holy maid !
The Spaniard hung his votive blade,
And bared his helmed brow —
Not that he feared war's visage grim.
Or that the battle-field for him
Had aught to daunt, I trow j
" Glory !" he cried, " with thee I've
done !
Fame ! thy bright theatres I shun,
To tread fresh pathways now :
To track thy footsteps, Saviour Q-od !
With throbbing heart, with feet un-
shod:
Hear and record my vow.
Yes, Thott shalt reign ! Chained to
thy throne,
The mind of man thy sway shall own,
And to its conqueror bow.
Genius his lyre to Thee shall lift,
And intelleot its choicest gift
Proudly on Thee bestow."
* Like most other " originals," this is Prout's own. — 0. Y.
XITEEATrUE AND THE JESUITS. 175
Fraudismagistrosartibiusemulis Straight on the marble floor he knelt,
Deprseliando stemerej sedmagis And in his breast exulting felt
Loyola jjutheri triumpKos A vivid furnace glow ;
Orbeuovo reparabit ultor!" ITorth to his task the giant sped.
Earth shook abroad beneath his tread,
■lellns gigantis sentit iter; simul And idols were laid low.
Idola nutant, &na ruunt, micat
Christi triumphantis trophse-
iim,
Oruxque novos numerat cli- India repaired half Europe's loss ;
entes. O'er a new hemisphere the Cross
Shone in the azure sky ;
Tidfoe gentes Xaverii jubar And, from the isles of far Japan
. Igni oorusco nvibUa dividens : To the broad Andes, won o'er man
Coepitque mirans Christiano* A bloodless victory !
Per medios fluitare G^anges.
Professor Eobertson gravely opines that Ignatius was a
mere fanatic, who never contemplated the subsequent glories
of his order ; and that, were he to have revisited the earth
a century after his decease, when his institute was making
such a noise in the world, he would have started back,
" Scared at the sound himself had made."
Never did the historian a'&opt a re ore egregious blunder.
Had he had leisure or patience to con over the original code,
caUed Instituttm Soo. Jest, he would have found in
every paragraph of that profound and crafty volume the
germs of wondrous future development ; he would have dis-
covered the long- hidden but most precious " soul of the
licentiate Garcias" under the inspection that adorns the;
title-page. Yes, the mind of Loyola lies embalmed in the
leaves of that mystic tome ; and the ark of cedar-wood,
borne by the children of Israel along the sands of the
desert, was not more essential to their happy progress unto
the land of promise than that grand depository of the
founder's wisdom was to the march of intellect among the
Jesuits.
Before his death, this old veteran of Charles V., this il-
literate lieutenant, this crippled Spaniard from the " im-
minent and deadly breach" of Pampeluna (for he too was
lame, like Tyrtaeus, Talleyrand, Lord Byron, Sir W. Scott,
Tamerlane, 'and Appius Claudius), had the satisfaction of
176 TATHEE PBOTJT'S EEIIQTnBS.
counting twelve "provinces" of his order established ia
Europe, Asia, Brazils, and Ethiopia. The members of the
society amounted at that epoch (31st July, 1556), sixteen
years after its foundation, to seven thousand educated men.
iJp-wards of one hundred colleges had been opened. Xavier
had blown the trumpet of the Gospel over India ; BobadiUa
had made a noise in Germany ; Gaspar Nunes had gone to
Egypt ; Alphonso Salmeron to Ireland. Meantime the
schools of the new professors were attracting, in every part
of Europe, crowds of eager pupils : industry and zeal were
reaping their best reward in the visible progress of religion
as well as literature :
"Pervet opus, redolentque thymo fragrantia mella!"
At the suppression of the order, it numbered within a frac-
tion of twenty thousand well-trained, weU-disciplined, and
well-taught members.
There is an instinct in great minds that teUs them of their
Bublime destinies, and gives them secret but certain warning
of their ultimate grandeur : Uke Brutus, they have seen a
spirit of prophetic import, whether for good or evU, who wiU
meet them at PhUippi : like Plato, they keep correspondence
with a familiar dai/itav : like Napoleon, they read their me-
ridian glories of successful warfare in the morning sun ; —
sure as fate, Loyola saw the future laurels of his order, and
placed full reliance on the anticipated energy of his followers
yet unborn : the same reliance which that giant fowl of
Arabia, the ostrich, must entertain, when, depositing its
monstrous egg on the sands, it departs for ever, leaving to
the god of day the care of hatching into life its vigorous
young.
Industry, untiring ardour, immortal energy were the cha-
racteristics of these learned enthusiasts. Some cleared away
the accumulated rubbish of the friars, their ignorant prede-
cessors ; and these were the pioneers of literature. Some
gave editions of the Fathers or the Classics, hitherto pent
up in the womb of MS. ; these were the accoucheurs of know-
ledge. Others, for the use of schools, carefully expurgated
the received authors of antiquity, and suppressed every pru-
rient passage, performing, in usum Belphini, a very merito-
rious task. I need not sav to what, class of operators in
LITEEATmi! ANB THE JESTJITS. 177
surgery these worthy fathers belonged. Some wrote " com-
mentaries " on Scripture, which Junius undervalues ; but,
with all his acquirements, I would sooner take the guidance
of Cornelius h. Lapide in matters of theology. Piaally, some
wrote original works ; and the shelves of every European
library groan under the folios of the Jesuits.
There is not, perhaps, a more instructive and interesting
subject of inquiry in thp history of the human mind than
the origin, progress, and workings of what are called monas-
tic institutions. It is a matter on which I have bestowed not
a little thought, and I may one day plunge iato the depths
thereof in a special dissertation. But I cannot help advert-
ing here to some causes that raised the order of the Jesuits
so far above all the numerous and fantastical fraternities to
which the middle ages had previously given birth. Loyola
saw the vile abuses which had crept into these institutions,
and had the sagacity to eschew the blunders of his prede-
cessors. Idleness was the most glaring evil under which
monks and friars laboured in those days ; and hence inces-
sant activity was the watchword of his sons. The rules of
other "orders" begot a grovelling and vulgar debasement of
mind, and were calculated to mar and cripple the energies of
genius, if it ever happened exceptionally to lurk under " the
weeds of Francis or of Dominick :" but all the regulations
of the Jesuits had a tendency to develop the aspirings of
intellect, and to expand the scope and widen the career of
talent. The system of mendicancy adopted by each holy
brotherhood as the ground- work of its operations, did not
strike Loyola as much calculated to give dignity or manli-
ness to the human character ; hence he left his elder brethren
in quiet possession of that interesting department. When
cities, provinces, or kings founded a Jesuits' coUege, they
were sure of getting value in return : hence most of their
collegiate halls were truly magnificent, and they ought to
have been so. When of old a prince wished to engage Zeno
as tutor to his son, and sought to lower the terms of the
philosopher by stating, that with such a sum he could pur-
chase a slave, " Do so, by all means, and you will have a pair
of them," was the pithy reply of the indignant stoic.
I do not undervalue the real services of some " orders" of
earlier institution. I have visited with feelings of deep
178 rATHEE PEOTJT's EELIQrES.
respect the gorgeous cradle of the Benedictine iastitute at
Monte Oassiao ; and no traveller has explored Italy's proud
monuments of Boman grandeur with more awe than I did
that splendid creation of laborious and persevering men. I
have seen with less pleasure the work of Bruno, la Grande
Chartreuse, near Gf^renoble ; he excluded learning from the
solitude to which he drew his followers : but I have hailed
with enthusiasm the sons of Bernard on the Alps ministering
to the waits of the pilgrim ; and I knew, that while tAey
prowled with their mountain-dogs in quest of wayworn tra-
vellers, their brethren were occupied far off in the mines of
Mexico and Peru, soothing the toils of the encavemed slave.
But while I acknowledged these benefactions, I could not
forget the crowds of lazy drones whom the system has fos-
tered in Europe : the humorous lines of Berchoux, in his
clever poem " La Gastronomie," involuntarily crossed my
mind:
" Oui, j'avais un bon oncle en votre ordre, eleve
D'vm merite eelatant, gastronome aoheve ;
Souvent il m'iteisit son brillant r^fectoire,
C'^tait 1^ du couvent la veritable gloire !
Garni des biens exquis qu'enfsuite I'liniTerB,
ViuB d'vm bouquet ofleste, et mets d'un goAt divers !
" Clottres majestueux ! fortun& monast^res !
Eetraite du repoa des vertiis solitaires,
Je V0U8 ai vu tomber, le eoeur gros des soupirs 5
Mais je voua ai gard^ d'etemels souvenirs ! —
Je s^ais qu'on a prouve que vous aviez grand tort,
Mais que ne prouve-t-on pas quand on est le plus fort ?"
This last verse is not a bad hit in its way.
But to return to the Jesuits. Their method of study, or
ratio studiorum, compiled by a select quorum, of the order,
under the guidance of the profound and original Father
Maldonatus,* totally broke up the old machinery of the
schools, and demolished for ever the monkish fooleries of
contemporary pedagogues. Before the arrival of the Jesuits
in the field of collegiate exercises, the only slrill applauded
or recognised in that department consisted in a minute and
servile adherence to the deep-worn tracks left by the passage
* See Bayle's Diet., art. Maldonat.
HTEEATtTBE ANP THE JESTTITS. 179
of Aristotle's cumbrous waggon over the plains of leaamng.
The well-known fable of Gray, concerning
" A Qrecian youth of talents rare,"
whom he describes as exceUing in the hippodrome of Athens
by the fidelity with which he could drive his chariot-wheels
within an inch of the exact circle left on the race-course by
those who had preceded, was the type and model of scho-
lastic excellence. The Jesuits, in every university to
which they could get access, broke new ground. Various
and fierce were the struggles against those invaders of the
territory and privileges of Boeotia; dubiess opposed his
old bulwark, the vis inertice, in vain. Indefatigable in their
pursuit, the nftw professors made incessant inroads into the
domains of ignorance and sloth ; a^-fuUy ludicrous were the
dying convulsions of the old universitarian system, that
had squatted like an incubus for so many centuries on
Paris, Prague, Alcala, VaUadolid, Padua, Cracow, and Coim-
bra. But it was in the halls of their own private colleges
that they unfolded aU theic excellence, and toiled unimpeded
for the revival of classic studies. " Consule scholas Jesuita-
rum," exclaims the Lord Chancellor Bacon, who was neither
a quack nor a swiper, but " spoke the words of sobriety and
truth." (Vide Opus de Dignit. Scient. Ub. vii.) And Car-
dinal Richelieu has left on record, in that celebrated docu-
ment* the " Testament Politique," part i. chap. 2, sect. 10, his
admiration of the rivalry in the race of science which the
order created in Prance.
Porth from their new college of Lafl^che came their pupil
Descartes, to disturb the existing theories of astronomy and
metaphysics, and start new and unexampled inquiries. Science
until then had wandered a captive in the labyrinth of the
schools ; but the Cartesian Daedalus fashioned wings for
himself and for her, and boldly soared among the clouds.
Tutored in their college of Payehza (near Eimini), the im-
mortal Torricelli reflected honour on his intelligent instruc-
tors by the invention of the barometer, a.d. 1620. Of the
education of Tasso they may well be proud. Justus Lipsius,
trained in their earliest academies, did good service to the
* Prout knew very well that this " testament " was a forgery by one
G. de Courtilon, the author of " Colbert's testament" also.— 0. Y.
s 2
180 TATHEE PEOn'S EELIQI7ES.
cause of criticism, and cleared off the cobwebs of the com-
mentators and grammarians. Soon after, Cassini rose from
the benches of their tuition to preside over the newly estab-
lished Observatoire in the metropolis of France ; while the
illustrious Toumefort issued from their haUs to carry a,
searching scrutiny into the department of botanical science,,
then in its infancy. The Jesuit Kircher* meantime as-
tonished his contemporaries by his untiring energy and saga-
cious mind, equally conspicuous iu its most sublime as in ita
trifling efforts, whether he predicted with precision the erup-
tion of a volcano, or invented that ingenious plaything the
" Magic Lantern." Father Boscovichi" shone subsequently
with equal lustre : and it was a novel scene, in 1759, to find
a London Eoyal Society preparing to send out a Jesuit to
observe the transit of Yenus in California. His panegyric,
from the pen of the great Lalande, fills the Journal des
Savans, February 1792. To Fathers EiccioH and De Billy
science is also deeply indebted.
Forth from their coUege of Dijon, in Burgundy, came
Bossuet to rear his mitred front at the court of a despot, and
to fling the bolts of his tremendous oratory among a crowd
of elegant voluptuaries. Meantime the tragic muse of Cor-
neille was cradled in their college of Eouen ; and, under the
classic guidance of the fathers who taught at the College de
Clermont, in Paxis, Molifere grew up to be the most exquisite ,
* Mvindus Subterraneua, Jmst. 1664, 2 vols. fol. China Illustrat,
ibid. 1667, folio. De TJsu Obelisoor. Soma, 1666, folio. Museum Kir-
cher, Hid. 1709, folio.
t Bom at Bagusa, on the Adj'iatic ; taught by the Jesuits, in their
college in that town ; entered the order at the age of sixteen ; was sent
to Borne, and forthwith was made professor of mathematics iu the Ai-
chigymn. Bom. ; was employed by the papal goverument iu the measure-
ment of the arc of meridian, which he traced from Bome to Eimini,
assisted by an English Jesuit, Mayer ; ' in 1750, employed by the repub-
lic of Lucca in a matter relating to their marshes ; subsequently by the
Emperor of Austria ; and was elected, in 1760, a fellow of the London
Eoyal Society, to whom he dedicated his poem on the " Bclipses," a
clever manual of astronomy. His grand work on the properties' of
matter {Lex Continuitatia) was printed at Bome, 4to., 1754. We hAve
also from his pen, Dioptrica, Vind. 1767 ; Mathesis TJniTersa, Venetiii,
1757 ; Lens et Teleacop., Rom. 1755 ; Theoria Plulos. Natur., Viemie,
1758. The French government invited him to Paris, where he died in
1792, in the sentiments of unfeigned piety which he ever displayed.
LITEBATDKE AND THE JESUITS. 181
of comic writers. The lyric poetry of Jean Baptiste Eousseau
was nurtured by them in their college of Louis le Grrand.
And in that college the wondrous talent of young " Fran9oiB
Arouet" was also cultivated by these holy men, who little
dreamt to what purpose the subsequent " Voltaire" would
convert his abilities —
" Non hoB qusesitum mvrnus iii usus.''
JEneid. IV.
D'OUvet, Pontenelle, CrebiUon, Le Franc de Pompignan —
there is scarcely a name known to literature during the seven-
teenth century which does not bear testimony to their prow-
ess in the province of education — no profession for which they
did not adapt their scholars. For the bar, they tutored the
illustrious Lamoignon (the Mtecenas of Eacuie and Boileau).
It was they who taught the vigorous ideas of D'Argenson
how to shoot ; they who breathed into the young Montes-
quieu his " Esprit ;" they who reared those ornaments of
French jurisprudence, Nicolai, Mol^, Seguier, and Amelot.
Their disciples could wield the sword. "Was the great
Conde deficient in warlike spirit for having studied among
them ? was Mar^chal Villars a discreditable pupil ? Need I
give the list of their other belligerent scholars ? — De Grram-
mont, De Boufflers, De Bohan, De Brissac, De Etr^es, De
Soubise, De Crequi, De Luxembourg, — ia France alone.
Great names these, no doubt ; but literature is the title of
this paper, and to that I would principally advert as the
favourite and peculiar department of their excellence. True,
the Society devoted itself most to church history and eccle-
siastical learning, such being the proper pursuit of a sacer-
dotal body ; and success in this, as ia every study, waited on
their industry. The archaiologist is familiar with the works
of Father Petavius, whom Grrotius calls his friend ; with the
labours of Fathers Sirmond, BoUand, Hardouin, Labbe,
Parennin, and Tournemine. The admirer of polemics (if
there be any such at this time of day) is acquainted vrith
BeUarmin, Menochius, Suarez, Tolet, Becan, Sheifmaker, and
(last, though not least) 0 ! Cornelius Ji Lapide, with thee ?
But in classic lore, as well as in legendary, the Jesuits ex-
celled. Who can pretend to the character of a literary man
that has not read Tiraboschi and his " Storia deUa Lettera-
182 FATHEE PBOTTt's EElIQrES.
tura d' Italia," Bouhours on the " Manni^re de bien penser,"
Brumoy on the " Theatre des Grecs," Vavassour " de Ludicr&
Dictione," Eapin's poem on the " Ajct of Gardening" (the
model of those by Dr. Darwin and Abb6 DeMe), Vaniere's
" PrsBdium Eusticum," TurseUin " de Particulis Latini Ser-
monis," and Casimir Sarbievi's Latin Odes, the nearest
approach to Horace in modem times ? What shall I say of
Porfe (Voltaire's master), of Sanadon, of DesbiUons, Sidro-
nius, Jouvency, and the " journalistes de TreToux ?"
They have won in France, Italy, and Spain, the palm of
pulpit eloquence. Logic, reason, wisdom, and piety, dwelt
in the soul of Bourdaloue, and flowed copiously from his
lips. Lingendes, Cheminais, De la Eue, were at the head
of their profession among the French ; while the pathetic
and unrivalled Segneri took the lead among the eloquent
orators of Italy. In Spain, a Jesuit has done more to pu-
rify the pulpit of that fantastic country than- Cervantes to
clear the brains of its chivalry ; for the comic romance of
" Fray Gerundio " (Friar Gerund), by the Jesuit Isla, ex-
hibiting the ludicrous ranting of the cowled fraternity of
that day, has had the effect, if not of giving eloquence to
clods of the valley, at least of putting down absurdity and
presumption.
They wooed and won the muse of history, sacred and
profane. Strada* in Flanders, Maffeif at Genoa, Marianaf
in Seville. In France, Maimbourg,§ Daniel,|| Boujeant,T|
Charlevoix,** Berruyer,tt D'Orleans,JJ Ducerceau,§§ a^id
Du Halde,|||| shed light on the paths of historical inquiry
which they severally trod. I purposely omit the ex-Jesiait
Eaynal.
They shone in art as well as in science. Father Pozzi was
* De Bello Belgioo. t Eerum Indioar. Hist.
J Histor. di Bspana. De Eegia Institutione, Toledo, 1599.
§ HiBtoire de I'Arianisme, des Iconoolastes, des Oroisades, du Cal-
vinism, de la Ligue.
II Hist, de France. De la Milice !Fran9aise.
% Hist, du Traits de Westphalia. Ame des BMes, ^eio.
** Hist, du Paraguay, du Japon, de St. Domiugue.
+t Du Peuple de Dieu. JJ EevolutioBB d'Angleterre.
§§ Conjuration de Rienzi, &o. &c.
nil Description Geogr. Histor. Folitio. et Physique de la Oliine,
Land. 1742, 2 vols, folio.
riTEEATTJEE AKD THE JESUITS. 183
one of Eome's best painters. A Jesuit was employed in the
drainage of the Pontine marshes ; another to devise plans for
sustaining the dome of St. Peter's, when it threatened to .
crush its massive supports. In naval tactics (a subject es-
tranged from sacerdotal researches) the earliest work on the
strategy proper to ships of the line was written by P^re le
Hoste, known to middies as " the Jesuits' book," its French
title being " Traits des Evolutions Navales." The first hint
of aerial navigation came from Padre Lana, in his work de Arte
ProrfroJKO, Milan. Newton acknowledges his debt to father
Grrimaldi, de Lumine Coloribus et Iride, Bononiae, 1665, for his
notions on the inflexion of light. The best edition of New-
ton's Principia was brought out at Geneva, 1739-60, by the
Jesuits Lesueur and Jaquier, in 3 vols. In their missions
through Greece, Asia Minor, and the islands of the Archi-
pelago, they were the best antiquaries, botanists, and mine-
ralogists. They became watchmakers, as well as manda-
rins, in China : they were astronomers on the " plateau "
of Thibet: they taught husbandry and mechanics in
Canada: while in their own celebrated and peculiar con-
quest (since fallen into the hands of Doctor Pran^ia) on
the plains of Pabaguax, they taught the theory and prac-
tice of civil architecture, civil economy, farming, tailoring,
and all the trades of civUised life. They played on the
fiddle and on the flute, to draw the South American Indians
from the forests into their villages : and the story of Thebes
rising to the sound of Amphion's lyre ceased to be a fable.
We find them in Europe and at the antipodes, in Siam
and at St. Omer's, in 1540 and in 1830 — everywhere the
same. Lainez preached before the Council of Trent in
1560: Eev. Peter Kenney was admired by the North
American Congress not many years ago. Tiraboschi was li-
brarian of the Brera in 1760 : Angelo Mai (ex-Jesuit) is
librarian of the Vatican in 1833. By the by, they were
also capital apothecaries. Who has not heard of Jesuits'
bark, Jesuits' drops, Jesuits' powders, Jesuits' cephalie
snuff?
" Qvue regio in terris nostri non plena laboris ?" — Mneid. I.
And, alas ! must I add, who has not heard of the cuffs and
184 EATHEE PEOTJT'S EEIiIQTJES.
Duffetings, the kicks and halters, which they have met with
in return :
" Quse caret ora oruore nostro ?" — Hot. lib. ii. ode 1.
For, of course, no set of men on the face of God's earth
have been more abused. 'Tis the fate of every mortal who
raises himseK by mother-wit above the common level of
fools and dunces, to be hated by the whole tribe most cor-
dially ■
" TJrit enim fulgore suo," &c. — Hor. lib. ii. ep. 1.
The Mars were the first to raise a hue and cry against
the Jesfiits, with one Melchior Cano, a Dominican, for their
trumpeter. Ignatius had been taken up by " the Inquisi-
tion" three several times. Then came the pedants of the
university at Paris, whom these new professors threw into
the shade. The " order" was next at loggerhep,ds with that
suspicious gang of intriguers, the council and doge of Ve-
nice ; the Jesuits were expelled the republic.* Twice they
were expelled from Prance, but thrust out of the door they
came back through the window. They encountered, like
Paul, " stripes, perils, and prisons," in Poland, in Germany,
in Portugal, and Hungary. They were hanged by dozens io!
England. Their march for two centuries through Europe
was only to be compared to the retreat of the ten thousand
Greeks under Xenophon.
A remarkable energy, a constant discipline, a steady
perseverance, and a dignified self-respect, were their charac-
teristics from the beginning. They did not notice the
pasquinades of crazy Pascal,t whose " Provincial Letters,"
made up of the raspings of antiquated theology and the
scrapings of forgotten causistry, none who knew them ever
thought much of. The sermons of Bourdaloue were
the only answer such calumnies required ; and the order
confined itself to giving a new ecfition of the "Lettres
6difiante8 et curieuses, Sorites par nos Missionaires du Le-
* In Bayle's Dictionary, among the notes appended to the article on
Abelard, will be found the real cause of their expulsion j they may be
proud of it.
t Prout's relish for genuine fan ia here at fault. — O. T.
lilTEEATTTEE AND THE JESriTS. 185
vant, de la Cbine, du Canada, et du Malabar." When a
flimsy accusation was preferred against bim of Africa,
" Hiine qui
Duxit ab ereraS. meritum Carthagine nomen,"
he acted ia a similar manner, and silenced his miserable
adversaries.
If ever there was an occasion on which the comparative
merits of the Jesuits and Jansenists could be brought to
the test, it was at the outbreak of the pestilential visitation
that smote the city of Marseilles; and which history, poetry,
and piety, will never allow to be forgotten :
" Why drew Marseilles' good bishop purer breath.
When natore sickened, and each gale was death ?"
Pope's Essay on Man, ep. 4.
Por whUe the Pharisees of that school fled from their cle-
rical functions, and sneaked off under some paltry pretext,
the Jesuits came from the neighbouriug town of Aix to
attend the sick and the dying ; and, under the orders of
that gallant and disinterested bishop, worked, while life was
spared them, iu the cause of humanity. Seven of them
perished in the exercise of this noblest duty, amid the
blessings of their fellow-men. -The bishop himself, De Bel-
zunce, had not only studied under the Jesuits, but had been
a member of the order during the early part of his ecclesias-
tical career at Ais, in 1691.
Long ago, that noblest emanation of Christian chivalry —
an order in which valorous deeds were familiar as the
" matin song" or the " vesper hymn' — the Templars, feU
the victims of calumny, and were immolated amid the shouts
of a vulgar triumph ; but history, keen and scrutinising,-
has revealed the true character of the conspiracy by which
the vices of a few were made to swamp and overwhelm, in
the public eye, the great mass of virtue and heroism which
constituted that refined and gentlemanly association ; and a
tardy justice has been rendered to Jacques Molay and his
illustrious brethren. The day may yet come, when isolated
instances and unauthenticated misdeeds wiU. cease to create
an unfounded antipathy to a society which will be found,
186 T-ATHEE PBOTTT's EELIQTJES.
taking it all in all, to have deserved well of mankind. This,
at least, is Father Prout's honest opinion ; and why should
he hide it under a bushel ?
The most convincing proof of their sterling virtue is to be
found in the docility and forbearance they evinced in
promptly submitting to the decree of their suppression, is-
sued ex cathedrd by one Ganganelli, a Franciscan friar, who
had got enthroned. Heaven knows how ! on the pontiflc
chair. In every part of Europe they had powerful fiiends,
and could have " shewn fight " and " died game," if their
respect for the successor of " the fisherman " had not been
all along a distinctive characteristic, even to the death. In
Paraguay they could have decidedly spumed the mandate
of the Escurial, backed by an army of 60,000 Indians, de-
voted to their spiritual and temporal benefactors, taught the
tactics of Europe, and possessing in 1750 a well-appointed
train of artillery. That portion of South America has since
relapsed into barbarism ; and the results of their withdrawal
from the interior of that vast peninsula have fully justified
the opinion of Muratori, in his celebrated work on Para-
guay, " II ChristianeBimo felice." It was a dismal day for
Uterature in Spain, Portugal, and Italy, when their colleges
were shut up ; and in France they alone could have stayed
the avalanche of irreligion ; for, by presenting Christianity
to its enemies clad in the panoply of Science, they would
have awed the scoifer, and confounded the philosophe. But
the Vatican had spoken. They bowed; and quietly dis-
persing through the cities of the continent, were welcomed
and admired by every friend of science and of piety. The
body did not cease to do good even after its dissolution in
1763, and, like the bones of the prophet, worked miracles of
usefulness even in the grave.*
Contrast their exemplary submissiveness with the frenzy
and violence of their old enemies the Jansenists (of which
sour and pharisaical sect Pascal was the mouth-piece), when
the celebrated buU JJnigmitus was issued against them. Never
did those unfortunate wights, whom the tyrant Phalaris used
• " And it came to pass, as they were burying a man, behold they
spied a band of robbers ; and they oast the man into the sepulchre of
Elisha : and when the man touched the bones of Elisha he came to life,
and stood upon his feet." — 2 Kings, chap, xiii,, ver. 21.
HTEEATITEE AND THE JESUITS. 187
to enclose in his brazen cow, roar so lustily as the clique of
Port Royal on the occasion alluded to. It was, in fact, a
most melancholy exhibition of the wildest fanaticism, com-
bined, as usual, with the most pertinacious obstinacy. The
followers of Pascal were also the votaries of a certain vaga-
bond yclept le Diacre Paris, whose life was a tissue of ras-
cality, and whose remains were said by the Jansenists to
operate wondrous cures in the churchyard of St. Medard,
in one of the fauxbotirgs of the capital. The devotees of
Port Eoyal flocked to the tomb of the deacon, and became
forthwith hysterical and inspired. The wags of Louis the
Fifteenth's time called them " ie.s Convulsionnaires." Things
rose to such a height of dangerous absurdity at last, that the
cemetery was shut up by the police ; and a wit had an op-
portunity of writing on the gates of the aforesaid church-
yard this pointed epigram :
" De par le roy, defense h. Dieu,
De faire miracles en oe lieu."
And I here conclude this very inadequate tribute of long-
remembered gratitude towards the men who took such pains
to drill my infant mind, and who formed with plastic power
whatever good or valuable quality it may possess. " Si quid est
in me ingenii, judices (et sentio quam sit exiguum), si quae
exercitatio ab optimarum artium discipb'nis profecta, earum
rerum fructum, sibi, suo jure, debent repetere." — (Ciceeo
pro Ar chid poet t) And as for the friend of my youth, the
accomplished Grresset, whose sincerity and kindness will be
ever embalmed in my memory, I cannot shew my sense of
his varied excellencies in a more substantial way than by
making an eifort — a feeble one, but the best I can command
— to bring him before the English pubKc in his most agree-
able production, the best specimen of graceful and harmless
humour in the literature of Prance. I shall upset Vert-Vert
into English verse, for the use of the intelligent inhabitants
of these islands ; though I much fear, that to transplant so
delicate an exotic into this Mgid cUmate may prove an un-
successful experiment.
188 I'ATHEB FBOUT'b B£IiIQU£S.
'Ftrt^'Fert, tj&i 39arrnt.
A FOSU BY IHB JEBiril GBDSSEI.
1^9S original Innocence.
AiAS ! what evils I discern in
Too great an aptitude for learning !
And fain would all the ills unravel
That aye ensue from foreign travel ;
Far happier is the man who tarries
Quiet within his household " Lares :"
Read, and you'll find how virtue vanishes,
How foreign vice all goodness banishes,
And how abroad young heads will grow dizzy.
Proved in the imderwritten Odyssey. .0
In old Nevers, so famous for its
Dark narrow streets and Gothic turrets,
Close on the brink of Loire's young flood,
Flourished a convent sisterhood
Of Ursulines. Now in this order
A parrot lived as parlour-boarder ;
Brought in his childhood from the Antilles,
And sheltered under convent mantles :
Green were his feathers, green his pinions.
And greener still were his opinions ; 20
For vice had not yet sought to pervert
This bird, who had been christened Vert-Vert;
Nor could the wicked world defile him,
Safe from its snares in this asylum.
Fresh, in his teens, frank, gay, and gracious.
And, to crown all, somewhat loquacious ;
If we examine close, not one, or he.
Had a vocation for a nunnery.*
The convent's kindness need I mention f
Need I detail each fond attention, SO
Or count the tit-bits which in Lent he
Swallowed remorseless and in plenty ?
Plump was his carcass ; no, not higher
Fed was their confessor the friar j
And some even say that our young Hector
Was far more loved than the " Director." t
Dear to each novice and each nun —
He was the life and soul of fun j
• " Par son caquet digne d'etre en couvent"
t " Souvent I'oiseau I'emporta but le P6re."
TEET-TEET, THE PAEEOT. 189
, Though, to he sure, some hags censorious
Would sometimes find him too uproarious. 40
What did the parrot care for those old
Dames, while he had for him the household ?
He had not yet made his " profession,"
Nor come to years called " of discretion ;"
Therefore, unblamed, he ogled, flirted,
And romped like any imoonyerted ;
Nay sometimes, too, by the Lord Harry !
He'd puU their caps and " scapulary."
But what in all his tricks seemed oddest,
Was that at times he'd turn so modest, 60
That to aU bystanders the wight
Appeared a finished hypocrite.
In accent he did not resemble
£ean, though he had the tones of Eemble ;
But fain to do the sisters' biddings.
He left the stage to Mrs. Siddons.
Poet, historian, judge, financier,
Four problems at a time he'd answer
He had a £iculty like Ceesar's.
Lord Althorp, baffling all his teazers, 60
Could not surpass Vert-Yert in puzzling ;
" Goodrich" to him was but a gosling.*
Haeed when at table near some vestal,
His fare, be sure, was of the best aJl,-^-
I"or every sister would endeavour
To keep for him some sweet hors d'ceuvre.
Kindly at heart, in spite of vows and
Cloisters, a nun is worth a thousand !
And aye, if Heaven would only lend her,
I'd have a nun for a nurse tender ! t 70
Then, when the shades of night would come on,
And to their cells the sisters summon,
Happy the favoured one whose grotto
This sultan of a bird would trot to :
Mostly the young ones' cells he toyed in,
(The aged sisterhood avoiding),
Sure among all to find kind offices, —
StiU he was partial to the novices.
And in their cells our anchorite
Mostly cast anchor for the night ; 80
* At this remote period it is forgotten that " Prosperity Bobinaon "
was also known as " Goose Goodrich," when subsequently chancellor of
the exchequer. — O. T. '
t " Les petits soins, les attentions fines,
Sont u^B, dit on, chez les Ursulines."
190 TATHEE PEOri'S EELIQTJES.
Perched on the box that held the relicB, he
Slept without notion of indelicacy.
Bare was his luck ; nor did he spoil it
By flying from the morning toilet :
Not that I can admit the fitness
Of (at the toilet) a male witness ;
But that I scruple in this history
To shroud a single fact in mystery.
Quick at aU arts, our bird was rich at
That best acoomplishment, called chit-chat ; 80
For, though brought up within the cloister,
His beak was not closed like an oyster.
But, trippingly, without a stutter.
The longest sentences would utter ;
Pious withal, and moralising
His conTersation was surprising ;
None of your equivoques, no slander —
To such vile tastes he scorned to pander ;
But his tongue ran most smooth and nice on
" Deo sit laus" and " Kyrie eleison ;" 100
The maxims he gave with best emphasis
Were Suarez's or Thomas k Kempis's ;
In Christmas carols he was famous,
" Orate, fratres," and " Oeemus ;"
If in good humour, he was wont
To give a stave from " Think well orCt ;" *
Or, by particular desire, he
Would chant the hymn of " Dies irss."
Then in the choir he would amaze all
By copying the tone so nasal 110
In which the sainted sisters chanted, —
(At least that pious nun my aimt did.)
^n tatall XlenotDtie.
The pubho soon began to ferret
The hidden nest of so much merit,
And, spite of all the nuns' endeavours.
The fame of Tert-Vert filled aU Nevers ;
Nay, from Moulines folks came to stare at
The wondrous talent of this parrot ;
And to fresh visitors ad libitum
Sister Sophie had to exhibit him. 120
Drest in her tidiest robes, the virgin,
Forth fi'om the convent cells emerging,
• " Pensez-y-bien," or " ThinTc well orit" as translated by the titular
bishop, Kiohard Challoner, is the most generally adopted devotional
tract among the Catholics of these islands. — Fbout,
TEET-TEBT, THE PAEHOT. 191
Brings the bright bird, and for his plumage
First challenges unstinted homage ;
Then to his eloquence adverts, —
" What preacher's can surpass Yert- Vert's?
Truly in oratory few men
Equal this learned catechumen ;
R-aught with the convent's choicest lessons,
And stuffed with piety's quintessence j 130
A bird most quick of apprehension,
With gifts and graces hard to mention :
Say in what pulpit can you meet
A Chrysostom half so discreet,
Who'd follow in his ghostly mission
So close the ' fathers and tradition ?' "
Silent meantime, the feathered hermit
Waits for the sister's gracious permit,
When, at a signal from his mentor,
Quiet on a course of speech he'U enter j J 40
Not that he cares for human glory.
Bent but to save his auditory ;
Hence he pours forth with so much unction
That all his hearers feel compunction.
Thus for a time did Vert-Vert dwell
Safe in his holy citadelle ;
Scholared like any well-bred abbe.
And loved by many a cloistered Hebe ;
You'd swear that he had crossed the same bridge
As any youth brought up in Cambridge.* I'JO
Other monks starve themselves ; but his skin
Was sleek like that of a Pranoisean,
And far more clean ; for this grave Solon
Bathed every day in euu de Cologne,
Thus he indulged each guiltless gambol.
Blest had he ne'er been doomed to ramble !
For in his life there came a crisis
Such as for all' great men arises, —
Such as what Nap to Russia led,
Such as the " eiioht" of Mahomed ; IGO
O town of Nantz ! yes, to thy bosom
We let him go, alas ! to lose him !
Edicts, O town famed for revoking,
StiU was Vert- Vert's loss more provoking !
Dark be the day when our bright Don went
!From this to a far-distant convent !
IVo worda^ comprised that awful era —
Words big with fate and woe — " Ii iba !"
* Qusere — Pons Asiuorum ?
192 TATHEE PBOXTT'S EELIQITlia.
Yes, " he shall go j" but, sisters ! mourn y o
The dismal firuits of that sad journey, — 170
His on which Nantz's nuns ne'er reckoned.
When for the beauteous bird they beotoned,
Fame, O Vert-Vert ! in evil humour,
One day to Nantz had brought the rumour
Of thy aocompUshmentB, — " acumen,"
" Nouc/' and " esprit" quite superhuman :
All these reports but serred to enhance
Thy merits with the nuns of Nantz.
How did a matter so unsuited
For oonyent ears get hither bruited ! 180
Some may inquire. But " nuns are knowing,"
And first to hear what gossip's going*
Forthwith they taxed their wits to eUcit
From the famed bird a friendly visit.
GHrls' wishes run in a brisk current,
But a nun's fancy is a torrent ;t
To get this bird they'd pawn the missal :
Quick they indite a long epistle.
Careful with softest things to fiU it.
And then with musk perfume the billet ; 190
Thus, to obtain their darling purpose.
They send a writ of habeas corpus.
OS goes the post. When will the answer
Free them from doubt's corroding cancer ?
Nothing can equal their anxiety.
Except, of course, their well-known piety.
Things at Nevers meantime went harder
Than well would suit such pious ardour ;
It was no easy job to coax
This parrot from the Nevers folks. 200
Wliat, take their toy from conyent belles ?
Make Bussia yield the Dardanelles !
FUch his good rifle from a " Suhote,''
Or drag her "Eomeo" from a "Juliet!"
Make an attempt to take Gibraltar,
Or try the old com laws to alter !
This seemed to them, and eke to us,
" Most wasteful and ridiculous."
Long did the " chapter" sit in state,
And on this point deliberate ; 210
The junior members of the senate
Set their fair faces quite again' it ;
* " Les r^T&endes m&res
A tout saToir ne sont pas les demi%res."
+ " D&ir de fiUe est un feu qui devore,
Sesir de uoime est cent fois pis encore.'*
VEET-TEET, THE PAEEOT. 193
Itefuse to yield a point so tender,
And urge the motto— No surrender.
The elder nuns feel no great scruple
In parting with the charming pupil ;
And as each grave affair of state runs
Most on the verdict of the matrons,
Bmall odds, I ween, and poor the cimncs
Of keeping the dear bird from Nantz. 220
Nor in my surmise am I far out, —
For by their vote off goes the parrot.
l^gs tbil 'FoEaBt.
En ce terns la, a smaU canal-boat,
Called by most chroniclers the ".Talbot,"
(Taibot, a name well known in France !)
Travelled between Nevers and Nantz.
Vert-Vert took shipping iu this craft,
'Tis not said whether fore or aft ;
But iu a book as old as Massinger's
We find a statement of the passengers ; 230
These were — two Gascons and a piper,
A sexton (a notorious swiper),
A brace of children, and a nurse j
But what was infinitely worse,
A dashing Cyprian ;, while by her
Sat a most joUy-looking friar.*
For a poor bird brought up in purity
'Twas a sad augur for futurity
To meet, just free from his indentures.
And in the first of his adventures, 240
Such company as formed Ms hansel, —
Two rogues ! a friar ! ! and a damsel ! ! !
Birds the above were of a feather ;
But to Vert- Vert 't was altogether
Such a strange aggregate of scandals
As to be met but among Vandals ;
Eude was their talk, bereft of polish,
And calculated to demolish
All the fine notions and good-breeding
Taught by the nuns iu their sweet Eden. 250
No Billingsgate surpassed the nurse's,
And all the rest indulged in curses ;
* " tine nourrice, un moine, deui Gascons ;
Pour un enfant qui sort du monast^re
C'^tait ^choir en dignes compagnons."
194 TATHEE PEOTJT's BELIQUES.
Ear hath not heard such vulgar gab in
The nautio cell of any cabin.
Silent and sad, the pensive bird,
Shocked at their guilt, said not a word.*
Now he " of orders grey," accosting
The parrot green, who seemed quite lost in
The contemplation of man's wickedness.
And the bright river's gliding Uquidnesa, 260
" Tip us a stave (quoth Tuck), my darling,
Ayn't you a parrot or a starling ?
If you don't talk, by the holy poker,
I'll give that neck of yours a choker !"
Soared by this threat from his propriety,
Our pilgrim thinking with sobriety,
That if he did not speak they'd make him.
Answered the friar. Pax sit tecum !
Here our reporter marks down after
PoU's maiden-speech — " loud roars of laughter ;" 870
And sure enough the bird so affable
Could hardly use a phrase more laughable.
Talking of such, there are some rum ones
That oft amuse the House of Commons :
And since we lost '' Sir Joseph Yorke,"
We've got great " Feargus" fijesh from Cork, —
A fellow honest, droU, and funny.
Who would not sell for love or money
His native land : nor, like vile Daniel,
Pawn on Lord Althorp like a spaniel ; 280
Flatter the mob, while the old fox
Keeps an eye to the begging-box.
Now 'tis a shame that such brave fellows,
When they blow " agitation's" bellows.
Should oiiy meet with heartless scoffers,
While cunning Daniel fills his coffers.
But Kerrymen will e'er be apter
At the conclusion of the chapter,
While others bear the battle's brunt.
To reap the spoil and fob the blunt. 290
This is an episode concerning
The parrot's want of worldly learning,
In squandering his tropes and figures
On a vile crew of heartless niggers.
* This canal-boat, it would seem, was not a very refined or fashion-
able conveyance : it rather remindeth of Horace's voyage to Bnm-
dusituu, and of that line so applicable to the parrot's company —
" Bepletum nautis, cauponibus, atque malignis."
O.Y.
TEET-TEET, THE PAEEOT. 195
The " house" heard once with more decorum
Phil. Howard on " the Bomau forum."*
Poll's brief address met lots of caTiUers
Badgered by all his fellow-traTellers,
He tried to mend a speech so ominous
By striking up with " Dixit Dominus !" 300
But louder shouts of laughter follow, —
This last roar beats the former hollow,
And shews that it was bad economy
To give a stave from Deuteronomy.
Posed, not abashed, the bird refiised to
Indulge a scene he was not used to ;
And, pondering on his strange reception,
" There must," he thought, " be some deception
In the nuns' riews of things rhetorical,
And sister Hose is not an oracle. 310
True wit, perhaps, Hes not in ' mattins,'
Nor is their school a school of Athens."
Thus in this vUlanous receptacle
The simple bird at once grew sceptical.
Doubts lead to hell. The arch-deceiver
Soon made of Poll an unbeliever ;
And mixing thus in bad society,
He took French leave of aU. his piety.
His austere maxims soon he mollified,
And all his old opinions qualified ; 320
For he had learned to substitute
For pious lore things more astute ;
Nor was his conduct unimpeachable,
For youth, alas ! is but too teachable ;
And in the progress of his madness
Soon he had reached the depths of badness.
Such were his eurses, such his evil
Practices, that no ancient devil,+
Plunged to the chin when burning hot
Into a holy water-pot, 330
Could so blaspheme, or fire a ToUey
Of oaths so dreair and melancholy.
• See " Mirror of Parliament" for this ingenious person's maiden
speech on Joe Hume's motion to alter and enlarge the old House of
Commons, "Sir, the Somans (a laugh) — I say the Romans (loud
laughter) never altered their Forum " (roars of ditto). But Heaven soon
granted what Joe Hume desired, and the old rookery was bm-nt shortly
^ter.
t " Bient6t il seut jurer et mougreer
Mieuz qu'un vieus diable au fond d'un b^nitie£ "
o 2
196 FATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQUES.
Must the bright blossoms, ripe and ruddy,
And the fair fruits of early study.
Thus in their summer season crossed.
Meet a sad blight — a killing frost ?
Must that vile demon, Moloch, oust
Heaven from a young heart's holocaust ?*
And the glad hope of life's young promise
Thus in the dawn of youth ebb from us ? 340
Such is, alas ! the sad and last trophy
Of the young rake's supreme catastrophe ;
For of what use are learning's laurels
When a young man is without morals ?
Bereft of virtue, and grown heinous,
What signifies a brilliant genius ?
' Tis but a case for wail and mourning, —
' Tis but a brand fit for the burning !
Meantime the river wafts the barge.
Fraught with its miscellaneous charge, 350
Smoothly upon its broad expanse.
Tip to the very quay of Nantz ;
Fondly within the convent bowers
The sisters calculate the hours.
Chiding the breezes for their tardiness,
And, in the height of their fool-hardiness.
Picturing the bird as fancy painted —
Lovely, reserved, polite, and sainted —
Fit "Ursuline." And this, I trow, meant
Enriched with every endowment ! 960
Sadly, alas ! these nuns anointed
Will find their fancy disappointed ;
When, to meet all those hopes they drew on.
They'll find a regular Don Juan !
€f)t atDtuII Wistobetie.
Scarce in the port was this small craft
On its arrival telegraphed,
When, from the boat home to transfer him.
Came the nuns' portress, " sister Jerome."
Well did the parrot recognise
The walk demure and downcast eyes ; 370
Nor aught such saintly guidance reUshed
A bird by worldly arts embellished ;
Such was his taste for profane gaiety,
He'd rather much go with the laity.
• " Faut-il qu'ainsi I'exemple seduoteur
Du ciel au diable emporte un jeune coeur ?"
TEET-VEET, THE PAEEuT. 197
Fast to the bark he clung ; but plucked thence,
He shewed dire symptams of reluctance,
And, scandaliBing each beholder.
Bit the nun's cheek, and eke her shoulder ! •
Thus a black eagle once, 'tis said,
Bore off the struggling Gbnymede.+ 380
Thus was Vert Vert, heart-sick and weary,
Brought to the heavenly monastery.
The bell and tidings both were tolled,
And the nuns crowded, young and old,
To feast their eyes with joy uncommon on
This wondrous talkatire phenomenon.
Bound the bright stranger, so amazing
And so renowned, the sisters gazing.
Praised the green glow which a warm latitude
Gave to his neck, and liked his attitude. 390
Some by his gorgeous tail are smitten,
Some by his beak so beauteous bitten !
And none e'er dreamt of dole or harm in
A bird so bnUiant and so charming.
Shade of Spurzheim ! and thou, Lavater,
Or GtiU, of " bumps" the great creator !
Can ye explain how our young hero,
With all the vices of a Nero,
Seemed such a model of good-breeding,
Thus quite astray the convent leading ? 4<X)
Where on his head appeared, I a«k from ye,
The " nob" indicative of blasphemy ?
Methiuks 't would puzzle yoiir ability
To find his organ of scurrility.
Meantime the abbess, to " draw out"
A bird so modest and devout,
With soothing air and' tongue caressing
The " pilgrim of the Loire" addressing,
Broached thfe most ^difying topics.
To " start" this native of the tropics ; 410
When, to their scandal and amaze, he
Broke forth — " Morbleu! those nuns are crazy!"
(Shewing how well he learnt his task on
The packet-boat from that vile Q-ascon !)
" Pie ! brother poll !" with zeal outbiirsting,
Exclaimed the abbess, dame Augustin ;
* " Les uns disent au cou,
D'autres au bras ; on ne sait pas bien ou."
t " Quaiem ministrum fulminis alitem.
Cui rex deorum regnum in aves vagos
Commisit, expertus fidelem
Jupiter in Gtanymede flavo." IIOB.
198 TATHEE PEOri's EELIQTTBS.
But all the lady's sage rebukes
Brief answer got from poll—" Gadzooks !"
Way, 'tis supposed, he muttered, too,
A word folks write with W. 420
Scared at the sound, — " Sure as a gun,
The bird's a demon !" cried the mm.
" O the vile wretch ! the naughty dog !
He's surely Lucifer incog.
What ! is the reprobate before us
That bird so pious and decorous —
So celebrated ?" — Here the pilgrim,
Hearing sufficient to bewilder him,
Wound up the sermon of the beldame
By a conclusion heard but seldom — 430
"Ventre Saint Gris!" "Parbleu!" and "Sacre!"
Three oaths ! and every one a whac/cer !
Still did the- nuns, whose conscience tender
Was much shocked at the young offender,
Hoping he'd change his tone, and alter.
Hang breathless round the sad defaulter :
When, wrathful at their importunity,
And grown audacious from impunity,
He fired a broadside (holy. Mai-y !)
Drawn from Hell's own Vocabulary ! 440
Forth like a Oongreve rocket burst,
And stormed and swore, flared u^ and cursed!
Stunned at these sounds of import stygian.
The pious daughters of religion
Fled from a scene so dread, so horrid.
But with a cross first signed their forehead.
The younger sisters; ttuld arid meek.
Thought that the culprit spoke in (jreek j
But the old matrons aiid " the bench"
Knew every word was genuine French ; 450
And ran in all directions, pell-msH,
From a flood fit to overwhelm hell.
'T was by a fall that Mother Ruth*
Then lost her last remaining tooth.
"Fine conduct this, and pretty guidance !"
Cried one of the most mortified ones ;
" Pray, is such language and such ritual
Among the Nevers nuns habitual ?
'T was in our sisters most improper
To teach such curses — such a whopper 1 460
* " Toutes pensent ^tre Jl la fin du monde,
Et sur sou nez la m^re Cunegonde
Se laifsant cheoir, perd sa derniere dent 1"
■'Touxes penseat e rre a lafin. d-amonde"
J'apeJ&S.
VEET-TEET, THE PAEEOT. 199
He shan't by me, for one, be hindered
From being sent back to his kindred !"
This prompt decree of Poll's proscription
Was signed by general subscription.
Straight in a cage the nuns insert >
The guilty person of Vert- Vert ;
Some young ones wanted to detain him j
But the grim portress took " the paynim"
Back to the boat, close in his litter ;
, 'Tis not said this time that he hit her. 470
Back to the convent of his youth,
Sojourn of innocence and truth.
Sails the green monster, scorned and hated.
His heart with vice contaminated.
Must I tell how, on his return,
He BcandaHsed his old sojourn ?
And how the guardians of his infancy
Wept o'er their quondam child's delinquency ?
What could be done ? the elders often
Met to consult how best to soften 480
This obdurate and hardened sinner,
Knish'd in vice ere a beginner !*
One mother counselled " to denounce
And let the Inquisition pounce
On the rile heretic ;" another
Thought " it was best the bird to smother !"
Or " send the convict for his felonies
Back to his native land — the colonies.''
But milder views prevailed. His sentence
Was, that, until he shewed repentance, 490
" A solemn fast and frugal diet,
Silence exact, and pensive quiet.
Should be his lot ;" and, for a blister.
He got, as gaoler, a lay-sister.
Ugly as sin, bad-tempered, jealous,
And in her scruples over-zealous.
A jug of water and a carrot
Was all the prog she'd give the parrot s
But every eve when vesper-bell
Called sister Rosalie from her cell, 500
She to Vert- Vert would gain admittance,
And bring of " comfits" a sweet pittance.
• Implicat in terminis. There must have been a beginning, else how
conceive a, finish (see Kant), unless the proposition of Ocellus Luoanus
be adopted, viz. avapxov ku ariKivrawv to irav. Gresset simply
has it —
" n fiit un so^lerat
Proffes d'abord, et sans noviciat."
200 TATHBE PEOTJT'S EELIQUES.
Comfits ! alas ! can sweet confections
Alter sour slavery's imperfections ?
What are " preserves" to you or me,
When locked up in the Marshalsea ?
The sternest virtue in the hulks,
Thoughcrammed with richest sweetmeats, sulks.
Taught by his gaoler and adversity,
Poll saw the folly of perversity, 510
And by degrees his heart relented :
Duly, in fine, " the lad" repented.
His Lent passed on, and sister Bridget
Coaxed the old abbess to abridge it.
The prodigal, reclaimed and free,
Became again a prodigy,
And gave more joy, by works and words,
Than ninety-nine canary-birds,
tTntil his death. Which last disaster
(Nothing on earth endures !) came faster 520
Than they imagined. The transition
From a starved to a stuffed condition,
Prom penitence to joUification,
Brought on a fit of constipation.
Some think he wo'ild be living still,
If given a "Vegetable Pill ;"
But from a short hfe, and a merry,
Poll sailed one day per Charon's ferry.
By tears from nuns' sweet eyelids wept,
Happy in death this parrot slept ; 530
Por him Elysium oped its portals.
And there he talks among immortals.
But I have read, that since that happy day
(So writes Cornelius h, Lapide,*
* This author appears to have been a favourite with Prout, who
takes every opportunity of recording his predEeetion (vide pages 6 and
181). Had the Order, however, produced only such writers as Com^^
lius, we fear there would have been Httle mention of the Jesuits in
connexion with literature. Gresset's opinion on the matter is contained
in an epistle to his c-nfrere P. Boujeant, author of the ingenious
treatise Sur fAme des Bites (see p. 295) : —
Moins riv&end qu'aimable pfere, Affichekit la s^veritl ;
Vous dont I'esprit, le caractere, Et ne sortant de leur teaiere
Et les airs, ne sont point montes Que sous la lugubre banni&re
Sur le ton sottement austere De la grave formality,
De cent tristes patemit^s, H^ritiers de la triste encluma
Qui, manquajit du talent de plaire, De quelque pedant ignor^
Et de toute Wg^ret^ Beforgent quelque lourd voliune^ ' ■
Pour dissimuler la misfere Aux antres Latins enterre,
D'lm esprit sans amiSnit^,
THE SOWaS OF I'EAirCE. 201
Proving, with commentary droll,
The transmigration of the soul).
That still Vert- Vert this earth doth haunt,
Of conyent bowers a visitant ;
And that, gay novices among.
He dwells, transformed into a tongue ! 540
No. VII.
THE SONftS OE FEANCE.
Olf "WINE, WAE, "WOMEN, "WOODEN SHOES, PHILOSOPHT,
EEO&S, AND EEBE TEADE.
Chaptbe I. — Wine and Wae.
■ " PaVete linguis ! Carmina non priils
Audita, Musarum sacerdos,
Virginibus puerisque canto."
Hob. Carmen Saculare.
" With many a foreign author grappling,
Thus have I, Prout, the Muses' chaplain.
Traced on Eeghna'S virgin pages
Songs for ' the boys ' of after-ages.''
That illiistrious utilitarian, Dr. Bowring, tte knight-errant
of free trade, who is allowed to circulate just now without
a keeper through the cities of Prance, will be in high glee
at this October manifestation of Prout's wisdom. The
Doctor hath found a kindred soul in the Priest. To pro-
mote the interchange of national commodities, to cause a
blending and a chemical fusion of their mutual produce, and
establish an equilibrium between our negative, and their
positive electricity ; such appears to be the sublime aspira-
tion of both these learned pundits. But the beneiicial re-
sults attendant on the efforts of each are widely dissimilar.
Both Arcadians, they are not equally successful in the rivalry
of song. We have to record nothing of Dr. Bowring in the
way of auqxdrement to this country ; we have gained nothing
202 FATHEB phoitt's eeliques.
by his labours : our cottons, our iron, our woollens, and our
coals, are still without a passport to France ; while in cer-
tain home-trades, brought by his calculations into direct
competition with the emancipated FrenchJ we have en-
countered a loss on our side to the tune of a few millions.
Not so with the exertions of Prout : he has enriched Eng-
land at the expense of her rival, and engrafted on our litera-
ture the choicest productions of G-allic culture. Silently
and unostentatiously, on the bleak top of Watergrasshill, he
has succeeded in naturalising these foreign Tegetables, asso-
ciating himself ia the gratitude of posterity with the planter
of the potato. The inhabitants of these islands may now,
thanks to Prout ! sing or whistle the " Songs of IVance,"
duty free, in their vernacular language ; a vastly important
acquisition ! The beautiful tunes of the " Ck ira " and
" Charmante Gabrielle " will become familiarised to our duU
ears ; instead of the vulgar " Peas upon a trencher," we shall
enjoy that barrel-organ luxury of France, " Partant pour la
Syrie ;" and for " The Minstrel Boy to the wars is gone,"
we shall have the original, " Malbroock s'en va-t-en guerre."
"What can be imagined more calculated to establish an har-
monious understanding between the two nations, than this
attempt of a benevolent clergyman to join them in a hearty
chorus of common melody ? a grand " duo," composed of
bass and tenor, the roaring of the bull and the croaking of
the frog ?
To return to Bowring. Commissions of inquiry are the
order of the day ; but some travelling " notes of interroga-
tion " are so misshapen and grotesque, that the response or
result is but a roar of laughter. This doctor, we perceive,
is now the hero of every dinner of every " Chambre de Com-
merce ;" his toasts and his speeches in Norman French are,
we are told, the ne plus ultra of comic performance, towards
the close of each banquet. He is now in Burgundy, an in-
dustrious labourer in the vineyard of his commission ; and
enjoys such particular advantages, that Brougham from his
Woolsack is said to cast a jealous eye on his missionary's de-
partment ; " invidii rumpantur ut ilia Codri." The whole
affair exhibits that sad mixture of imbecility and ostenta-
tion too perceptible in aU the doings of TJtihtarianism. Of
THE SOKGS OP TEAIfCB. 203
whose commissioners Phsedrus has long ago given the pro-
totype :
" Est ardelionum qusedam Homee natio
" Trepidfe ooncursans, occupata in otio,
Gratis anhelaus, multtiin agendo, nihil agens."
The publication of this Paper on French Songs ia ia-
tended, at this particular season, to counteract the preva-
lent epidemic, which hurries away our population in crowds
to Paris. By furnishing them here at home with GralHc
fricassee, vee hope to induce some, at least, to remain in the
country, and forswear emigration. If our "preventive
check " succeed, we shall have deserved weU of our own
watering-places, which naturally look up to us for protec-
tion and patronage. But the girls will never listen to
good advice —
" Each pretty minx in her conscience thinks that nothing can improve
her,
Unless she sees the Tmleries, and trips along the Louvre."
Never in the memory of EEGiifA has Eegent Street
Buffered such complete depopulation. It hath emptied it-
self into the " Boulevards." Our city friends wiU keep an
eye on the Monument, or it may elope from Pudding Lane
to the " Place Vendome :" but as to the Thames flowing
into the Seine, we cannot yet anticipate so alarming a phe-
nomenon, although Juvenal records a similar event as having
occurred in his time — -
"Totus in Tyberim defluiit Orontes."
Tet there is still balm in GrUead, there is still com in
Egypt. The " chest " in which old Prout hath left a legacy of
hoarded wisdom to the children of men is open to us, for
comibrt and instruction. It is rich in consolation, and fraught
with goodly maxims adapted to every state and stage of sub-
lunary vicissitude. The treatise of Boethius, " de Consola^
tione PhUosophiae," worked wonders in its day, and assuaged
the tribulations of the folks of the dark ages. The sibylline
books were consulted in aU cases of emergency. Prout's
strong box rather resembleth the oracular portfoHo of the
Sibyl, inasmuch as it chiefly containeth matters written ia
verse ; and even in prose it appeareth poetical. Versified
204 FATHDB I'llOrx'S EELIQTJES.
apophthegms are always better attended to than mere pro-
saic crumbs of comfort ; and we trust that the " Songs of
Praace," which we are about to publish for the patriotic
purpose above mentioned, may have the desired eflfect.
" Canuina vel ccelo possimt deducere lunam ;
Carmine Di superi placantur, carmine manes :
Ducite ab urbe domum, mea carmina^ ducite Daphnim !"
When Saul went mad, the songs of the poet David were
the only effectual sedatives ; and ia one of that admirable
series of homilies on Job, St. Chrysostom, to fix the atten-
tion of his auditory, breaks out in fine style : *Egs ouv, aya-
irrtTi, rrtg Aa^idxrjg xiSa^as a.vax,gov(fu/x,iv ro -^aX/jiixov /j^iKog, xa,i
rtjv avS^Ciiwvriv yoovng rakai'Sugiav ii'TTu/Jbiv, xa; r. k. {Serm. Ill:
in Job.) These French Canticles are, in Prout's manuscript,
given with accompaniment of introductory and explanatory
observations, in which they swim like water-fowl on the
bosom of a placid and pellucid lake ; and to each song there
is underwritten an English translation, like the liquid re-
flection of the floating bird in the water beneath, so as to
recall the beautiful image of the swan, which, according to
the father of " lake poetry,"
" Floats double — swan and shadow."
Yale et fruere !
OLIYEE TOEKE.
Regent Street, lit Oct. 1834.
WatergrassMll, Oct. 1833,
I HAVE lived among the Erench : ia the freshest dawn of
early youth, in the meridian hour of manhood's maturity,
my lot was cast and my lines fell on the pleasant places oi
that once-happy land. Full gladly have I strayed among
her gay hamlets and her hospitable chateaux, anon breaking
the brown loaf of the peasant, and anon seated at the board
of her noblemen and her pontiffs. I have mixed industri-
ously with every rank and every denomination of her people,
tracing as I went along the peculiar indications of the Celt
and the' Prank, the Normand and the Breton, the langwe
d'oui and the langue d'oc; not at the same time overlooking
THE SONGS OE TEANCE. 205
the endemic featxiies of unrivalled Grascony. The manufac-
turing industry of Lyons, the Gothic reminiscences of Tours,
the historic associations of Orleans, the mercantile enter-
prise and opulence of Bordeaux, Marseilles, the emporium
of the Levant, each claimed my wonder in its turn. It was
a goodly scene ! and, compared to the ignoble and debased
generation that now usurps the soil, my recollections of
ante-revolutionary France are like dreams of an antediluviaja
world. And in those days arose the voice of song. The
characteristic cheerfulness of the country found a vent for
its superabundant joy in jocund carols, and music was at
once the oifspriug and the parent of gaiety. Sterne, in his
" Sentimental Journey," had seen the peasantry whom he so
graphically describes in that passage concerning a marriage-
feast — a generous flagon, grace after meat, and a dance on
the green turf under the canopy of approving Heaven. Nor
did the Irish heart of Goldsmith (who, like myself, rambled
on the banks of the Loire and the Garonne with true pedes-
trian philosophy) fail to enter into the spirit of joyous
exuberance which animated the inhabitants of each village
through which we passed, poor and penniless, but a poet ;
and he himself tells us that, vrith his flute iu his pocket, he
might not fear to quarter himself on any district in the
south of France, — such was the charm of music to the ear
of the natives in those happy days. It surely was not of
Prance that the poetic tourist spoke when he opened his
" Traveller " by those sweet verses that tell of a loneliness
little experienced on the banks of the Loire, however felt
elsewhere —
" Eemote, unfriended, solitary, Blow ;
Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po," &c.
For Goldy, the village maiden lit up her brightest smiles ;
for him the tidy housewife, " on hospitable cares intent,"
brought forth the wheaten loaf and the well-seasoned sau-
sage : to welcome the foreign troubadour, the master of the
cottage and of the vineyard produced his best can of wiue,
never loath for an excuse to drain a cheerful cup with an
honest fellow ; for,
" Si ben^ commemini, causae sunt quinque bibendi :
Hospitis adventus, prsesens sitis atque fatura,
Vel Tini bonitas — vel quseUbet altera causa."
206 PATHEE PEOUT's EELIQTJES.
All this buoyancy of spirits, all this plentiful gladness,
found expression and utterance iu the national music and
songs of that period ; which are animated and liYely to ex-
cess, and bear testimony to the brisk current of feeUng and
the exhilarating influence from which they sprung. Ikich
season of the happy year, each incident of primitive and
rural life, each occurrence in village history, was chronicled
in uncouth rhythm, and chanted with choral glee. The bap-
tismal holyday, the marriage epoch, the soldier's return, the
".patron saint," the harvest and the vintage, " le jour dea
rois," and "le jour de Noel," each was ushered in with the
merry chime of parish bells and the extemporaneous out-
break of the rustic muse. And when meUow autumn gave
place to hoary winter, the genial source of musical inspirac
tion was not frozen up in the hearts of the young, nor was
there any lack of traditionary ballads derived from the me-
mory of the old.
" lei le ehanvTe pr^par^
Toume autour du faeeau Gtothique,
Et BUT un banc tnal assure
La bergere la plus antique
Chante la mort du ' Balafr^'
D'uue Toix plaintive et tragique."
" While the merry fireblocks kindle.
While the gudewife twirls her spindle.
Hark the song which, nigh the embers,
Singeth yonder withered crone ;
Wen I ween that hag remembers
Many a war-taJe past and gone."
This characteristic of the inhabitants of Gaul, this con-
stitutional attachment to music and melody, has been early
noticed by the writers of the middle ages, and remarked on
by her historians and philosophers. The eloquent Salvian
of Marseilles (a.d. 440), in his book on Providence ("de
Gubematione Dei"), says that his fellow-countrymen had a
habit of drovming care and banishing melancholy with songs :
" Cantilenis infortunia sua solantur." In the old jurispru-
dence of the Gallic code we are told, by lawyer de March-
angy, in his work, " la Gaule Po^tique," that aU the goods
and chattels of a debtor could be seized by the creditor,
with the positive exception of any musical instrum^t, lyre,
THE SON&S or FEANOE. 207
bagpipe, or flute, which happened to be in the house of mis-
fortune ; the lawgivers wisely and humanely providing a
source of consolation for the poor devil when all was gone.
"We have still some enactments of Charlemagne interwoven
in the labyrinthine intricacies of the capitularian law, having
reference to the minstrels of that period ; and the song of
Eoland, who fell at Eoncesvaux with the flower of GraUic
chivalry, is still sung by the grenadiers of IVance :
" Soldats I'ran9ois, ohantons Koland,
L'honneur de la chevalerie," &o., &o.
Or, as Sir "Walter Scott wiU have it,
" O ! for a blast of that wild horn.
On Fontarabia's echoes borne," &o.
During the crusades, the minstrelsy of IVance attained a
high degree of refinement, delicacy, and vigour. Never were
love-adventures, broken hearts, and broken heads, so plenti-
ful. The novelty of the scene, the excitement of departure,
the lover's farewell, the rapture of return, the pUgi^im's tale,
the jumble of war and devotion, laurels and palm-trees — all
these matters inflamed the imagination of the troubadour,
and ennobled the eflFiisions of genius. Oriental landscape
added a new charm to the creations of poetry, and the bard
of chivalrous Europe, transported into the scenes of volup-
tuous Asia, acquired a new stock of imagery ; an additional
chord would vibrate on his lyre. Thiebault, comte de Cham-
pagne, who swayed the destinies of the kingdom under Queen
Blanche, while St. Louis was in Palestine, distinguished
himself not only by his patronage of the tuneful tribe, but
by his own original compositions ; many of which I have
overhauled among the MSS. of the King's Library, when I
was in Paris. Eichard Coeur de Lion, whose language,
habits, and character, belonged to Normandy, was almost as
clever at a ballad as at the battle-axe : his faithful trouba-
dour, Blondel, acknowledges his master's competency in
things poetical. But it was reserved for the immortal Een^
d'Anjou, called by the people of Provence le bon roy Reni,
to confer splendour and idat on the gentle craft, during a
reign of singular usefulness and popularity. He was, in
truth, a rare personage, and well 'deserved to leave his
208
FATHER PEOFT S EELIQUES.
memory embalmed in the recollection of his fellow-countrj-
men. After having fought in his youth under Joan of Arc,
in rescuing the territory of Prance from the grasp of her
invaders, and subsequently in the wars of Scander Beg and
Ferdinand of Arragon, he spent the latter part of his event-
ful life iu diffusing happiness among his subjects, and making
his court the centre of refined and classic enjoyment. Ais
in Provence vras then the seat of civilisation, and the haunt
of the Muses. While to Ren^ is ascribed the introduction
and culture of the mulberry, and the consequent develop-
ment of the silk-trade along the Phone, to his fostering care
the poetry of Prance is indebted for many of her best and
simplest productions, the rondeau, the madrigal, the triolet,
the lay, the virelai, and other measures equally melodious.
His own ditties (chiefly church hymns) are preserved in the
BibUothfeque du Eoi, in his own handwriting, adorned by
his royal pencil with sundry curious enluminations and alle-
gorical emblems.
A rival settlement for the " sacred sisters" was established
at the neighbouring court of Avignon, w;here the temporary
residence of the popes attracted the learning of Italy and of
the ecclesiastical world. The combined talents of church-
men and of poets shone vfith concentrated effulgence in that
most picturesque and romantic of cities, fit cradle for the
muse of Petrarca, and the appropriate resort of every con-
temporary excellence. The pontific presence ■ shed a lustre
over this crowd of meritorious men, and excited a spirit of
emulation in all the walks of science, unknown in any other
European capital : and to Avignon in those days might be
applied the observation of a Latin poet concerning that small
town of Italy which the residence of a single important per-
sonage sufficed to illustrate :
" VeioB habitante Comillo,
lUio Roma fuit." ImCAS.
The immortal sonnets of Laura's lover, written in the polished
and elegant idiom of Lombardy, had a perceptible effect in
softening what was harsh, and refining what was uncouth,
in the love songs of the Troubadors, whose language (npt
altogether obsolete in Provence at the present time) beare'S
THE SONGS or FEANOE. 209
close affinity to the Italian. But this " light of song," how-
ever gratifyitig to the lover of early literature, was but a sort
of crepuscular brightening, to herald in that fuU dawn
of true taste and knowledge which broke forth at the appear-
ance of Francis I. and Leo X. Then it was that Europe's
modern minstrels, forming their lyric effusions on the im-
perishable models of classical antiquity, produced, for the
bower and the banquet, for the court and the camp, strains
of unparalleled sweetness and power. I have already en-
riched my papers with a specimen of the love-ditties which
the amour of Francis and the unfortunate Oomtesse de
Chateaubriand gave birth to. The royal lover has himself
recorded his chivalrous attachment to that lady in a song
which is preserved among the MSS. of the Duke of Bucking-
ham, in the Bibliothfeque du B/oi. It begins thus :
" Ores que je la tiens sous ma loy,
Plus je regne amant que roy,
Adieu, visages de cour," &c. &e.
Of the songs of Henri Quatre, addressed to G-abrielle
d'Etr&s, and of the ballads of Mary Stuart, it were almost
superfluous to say a word ; b,ut in a professed essay on_ so
interesting a subject, it would be an unpardonable omission
not to mention two such illustrious contributors to the
minstrelsy of France.
From crowned heads the transition to Maitre Adam (the
poetic carpenter) is rather abrupt ; but he deserves iaost
honourable rank among the tuneful brotherhood. Without
quitting his humble profession of a joiner, he published a
volume of songs (Eheims, 1650) under the modest title of
" Dry Chips and Oak Shavings from the Workshop of Adam
BiUaud." Many of his staves are right weU put out of
hand. But he had been preceded by Clement Mar&t, a most
cultivated poet, who had given the tone to French versifica-
tion. Malherbe was also a capital lyric writer in the gran-
diose style, and at times pathetic. Then there was Ilonsard
and Panard. Jean de Meun, who, with Gruillaume de Lorris,
concocted the " Eoman de la Eose :" Villon, Charles d'Or-
Hans, Gringoire, Alain Chartier, Bertaut, and sundry others
of the old school, deservedly challenge the antiquary and
critic's commendation. The subsequent glories of Voiture,
210 TATHEB PEOn'S EELIQUES.
Scuderi, Dorat, Boufflers, Morian, Eaean, and Chalieu, would
claim their due share of notice, if the modem lyrics of
Lamartine, Victor Hugo, Andr^ Chenier, Chateaubriand, and
DelaTigne, like the rod of the prophet, had not swallowed
up the inferior speUa of the magicians who preceded them.
But I cannot for a moment longer repress my enthusiastic
admiration of one who has arisen in our days, to strike in
Prance, with a master-hand, the lyre of the troubadour, and
to fling into the shade aU the triumphs of bygone minstrelsy.
Need I designate B^ranger, who has created tor himself a
style of transcendent vigour and originality, and who has
sung oi war, love, and wine, in strains far 'excelling those of
Blondel, Tyrtseus, Pindar, or the Teian bard. He is now
the genuine representative of G-allic poesy in her convivial,
her amatory, her warlike, and her philosophic mood : and the
plenitude of the inspiration that dwelt successively in the
souls of all the songsters of ancient Prance seems to have
transmigrated into B&anger, and found a fit recipient in his
capacious and liberal mind :
" As some bright river, that, firom fall to fall
In many a maze descending, bright in all,
Finds some fair region, where, each labyrinth past,
In one full lake of light it rests at last." — Lalla Rookh.
Let me open the small volume of his chansons, and take at
venture the first that offers. Good ! it is about the grape.
Wine is the grand topic with all poets (after the ladies) ;
hear then his account of the introduction of the grape into
Burgundy and Champagne, effected through the instrumen-
tality of Brennus. ,
33«nnu)S, Ci^c ^ong of 33i-tnnu3,
Ou la Vigne phmtie dans les Or the Introduction of the Grape
Gaules. into France.
Tune— "The Night before Larry."
Brennus disait aux bons Gaulois, WhenBremius came back here from
" Cel^brez un triomphe inaigne ! Eome,
Les champs de Home ont pay^ mes These words he is said to have
exploits, spoken :
Et j'enrapporteun cepde vigne; "We have conquered, my boys!
Priv^s de son jus tout-puissant, and brought home
A sprig of the vine for a token !
Fl/fHSr P'Lflfl'fll
iiF rail's rins: w eavt.,,, \
THE SONGS OF TEAIfOB.
211
Un jour, par ce raisin Tenneil
Dea peuples vous serez I'enTie j
Dans son nectar plein des feus du
Boleil
Tons les arts pniseront la vie.
Quittaut nos bords faToris&,
Mille vaisseaux iront sur I'onde
Oharg& de vins et de fleurs pa-
voises.
Porter la joie autour dn pionde.
Nous arons vaincu pour en Cheer, my hearties! and welcome
boire; to Gaul
Sur nos ooteaux que le pampre na- This plant, which we won from
issant the foeman ;
Serve ht couronner la riotoire. 'Tis enough to repay us for all
Our trouble in beating the Ro-
man ;
Bless the gods ! and bad
luck to Sa.6 geese !
O ! take care to treat well the fair
. guest,
Prom the blasts of the north to
protect her J
Of your hiUooks, the sunniest and
best _ ,
Make them hers, for the sake of
' her nectar.
She shall nurse your young Gauls
with her juice;
Give life' to ' the arts' in liba-
tions ;
While your ships round the globe
■ shall pi"oduce
Her goblet of joyfor all nations —
!E'en the foeman shall
taste of our cup.
The exile who flies to our hearth
She. shall soothe, all iis sorrows
redressing ';
For^^the Vine is the parent of mirth.
And to sit in its shade is a bless-
■ ing."
So the soil Brennus dug with his
' lance,
'Mic( the crowd of Gavil's war-
riors and sages ;
And our, forefathers grim, of gay
SVance
Got a glimpse through the vista
■ . , of ages^
■ " And it gladdened the
hearts of the Gauls !
Such is the classical and genial range of thought' ia which
Bdranger lores to indulge, amid the unpretending effusions
of a professed drinking song ; embodying his noble and pa-
triotic aspirations ia the simple form of an historical anec-
dote, or a light and fanciful allegory. He '
Bacchus ! embeUis nos destins !
TJn people hospitaller te prie,
Faie- qu'un -proscrit, assis ^ nos
Oublie un moment sa patrie."
Brprinus alors bennit les CSeux,
Greuse la terre avee sa lance,
Plante la vigne! et les Gaulois
joyeiix
Dans i'aveuir ont vu "La
France!"
abounds
2
in
212
FATHEE PEOUt's EELIQTJES.
pliilantliropic sentiments and generous outbursts of pas-
sionate eloquence, which come on the feelings unexpectedly,
and never fail to produce a corresponding excitement ia the
heart of the listener. I shall shortly return to his glorious
canticles ; but meantime, as we are on the chapter of wine,
by way of contrast to the style of B&anger,- 1 may be al-
lowed to introduce a drinking ode of a totally different cha-
racter, and which, from its odd and original conceptions,
and harmless jocularity, I think deserving of notice. It is,
besides, of more ancient date ; and gives an idea of what
songs preceded those of Beranger.
Ew lEIogcs »c I'lSau.
H pleut ! il pleut enfln !
Et la vigne altfrfo
Va se voir reataurfo
Par un bienfait divin.
De I'eau chantons la gloire,
On la meprise en vain,
C'est I'eau qui nous fait boire
Du vin ! du vin ! du vin !
C'est par I'eau, j'en conviens.
Que Dieu fit le deluge ;
Mais ce Bouveraiu Juge
Mit le mal prfes du bien !
Du dfluge I'histoire
Fait nattre le raisin ;
C'est I'eau qui nous fait boire
Du vin ! du vin ! du vin !
Ah ! combien je jouis
Quand la rivifere apporte
Des vins de toute sorte
Et de touB les pays !
Ma cave est men armoire —
A I'instant tout est plein ;
C'est I'eau qui nous fait boire
Du Tin ! du vin ! du vin !
Par un terns sec et beau
Le meunicr du village,
Se morfond sans ouvrage,
II ne bolt que de I'eau ;
Mine JBebtov to OTatcr.
Ant — " Life let ua cherish."
Eain best doth nourish
Earth's pride, the budding vine !
Grapes best will flourish
On vfhich the dewdrops shine.
Then why should water meet with scorn.
Or why its claim to praise resign ?
When from that bounteous source is bom
The vine ! the vine ! the vine !
Kain best disposes
Earth for each blossom and each bud j
True, we are told by Moses,
Once it brought on " a flood :"
But while that flood did all immerse,
AH save old Noah's holy line,
Pray read the chapter and the verse—
The vine is there ! the vine !
Wine by water-carriage
Round the globe is best conveyed j
Then why disparage
A path for old Bacchus made ?
When in our docks the cargo lands
Which foreign merchants here consign,
The wine's red empire wide expands —
Th6 vine ! the vine ! the vine !
Bain makes the miUer
Work his glad wheel the Kvelong day ;
Bain brikgs the siller.
And drives dull care awav :
THE SONGS OP FEAlfCE. 213
n rentre dans sa gloire For without rain he lacks the stream,
Quand I'eau reutre au And fain o'er watery cups must pine j
moulin ; But when it rains, he coiu'ts, I deem,
C'est I'eau qui lui fait boire The vine ! the vine ! the yine !*
Du vin ! du vin ! du Tin !
Faut-il un trait nouyeau ? Though all good judges
Mes amis, je le guette ; Water's worth now understand,
Voyez k la guinguette Mark yon ohiel who drudges
Entrer ce porteur d'eau ! With buckets in each hand ;
H y perd b. memoire He toils with water through the town,
Des travaux du matin ; TIntil he spies a certain " sign,"
Cest I'eau qui lui fait boire Where entering, all his labour done,
Du vin ! du Tin ! du Tin ! He drains thy juice, O vine !
Mais h, Tous chanter I'eau But pure water singing
Je sens que je m'alt&re ; Dries full soon the poet's tongue ;
Donnez moi Tite une verre So crown all by bringing
Du doux jus du tonneau — A draught drawn from the bung
Ce vin vient de la Loire, Of yonder cask, that ,wine contains
Oubiendesbords duEhin; Of Loire's good vintage or the Bhine
Cest I'eau qui nous fait boire Queen of whose teeming margin reigns
Du vin ! du vin ! du vin ! The vine ! the vine ! the Tine !
A " water-poet" is a poor creature in general, and though
limpid and lucid enough, the foregoing runs at a very low
level. Something more lofty in lyrics and more in the Pin-
daric vein, ought to follow ; for though the old Theban him-
self opens by striking a key-note about the excellence of
that element, he soon soars upward far above low-water
mark, and is lost in the clouds —
" Multa Diroeum levat aura cycnum ;"
yet, in his highest flight, has he ever been wafted on more
daring and vigorous pinions than Beranger ? This will be
at once seen. Search the racing calendar of the Olympic
turf for as majiy olympiads as you please, and in the horse-
poetry you will find nothing better than the " Cossack'a
Address to his Charger."
* This idea, containing an apparent paradox, has been frequently
worked up in the quaint writing of the middle ages. There is an old
Jesuits' riddle, which I learnt among other wise saws at their colleges,
from which it will appear that this Miller is a regular Joe.
Q, " Suave bibo vinum quoties mihi suppetit unda ;
Undaque si desit, quid bibo ?"
ill. " Tristis aquam !"
214 FATHEE PEOXIT'S EEIiIQTTES.
Ee C^ant Uu Cosaque.
Viene, mon coureier, noble ami du Cosaque^
Vole au signal des trompettes du nord ;
Prompt au pillage, intrepide h I'attaque,
Pr^te sous moi des ailes a la mort.
li'or n'em-ichit ni ton frein ni ta seUe,
Mais attends tout du prix de mes exploito s
Hennis d'orgueU, 6 mon eoursier fidele,
Et foule aux pieds les peuples et les rois.
Xia, paix qui. fuit m'abandonne tes guides,
La Tieille Europe a perdu ses remparts ;
Viens de tr^sors combler mes mains ayides,
Viens reposer dans 1' asile des arts,
Eetourne boire h, la Seine rebelle,
Oil, tout sanglant, tu t'es lave deux fois ;
Hennis d'orgueil, 6 mon eoursier fidMe,
Et foule aux pieds les peuples et les rois.
Comme en un fort, princes, nobles, et prfetrei,
Tons assi%& par leurs sujets souiTrans,
Nous ont crie : Venez, soyez nos maitres —
Nous serons serfs pour demeurer tyrans !
J'ai pris ma lance, et tous Tont devant eUe
Humilier, et le sceptre et la croix :
Hennis d'orgueil, 6 mon eoursier fidele,
Et foule aux pieds les peuples et les rois.
J'ai d'un g^ant tu le fant6me immense
Sur nos bivouacs fixer un ceU ardent ;
H s'&ria : Mon ihgne recommence ;
Et de sa hache il montrait 1' Occident j
Du roi des Huns o'Aait 1' ombre immortelle s
Kls d'Attila, j'obeis k sa voix
Hennis d'orgueil, 6 mon eoursier &dh]e,
Et foule aux pieds les peuples et les rois.
Tout cet iclat dont I'Europe est si fifere.
Tout ce savoir qui ne la defend pas,
S'engloutira dans les flots de poussiere
Qu'autour de moi vont soulever tes pas
Efface, efiace, en la course nouveUe,
Temples, palais, moeurs, souvenirs, et loie
Hennis d'orgueil, 6 mon eoursier fidele,
Et fotile aux pieds les peuples et les roia.
THE SONGS or FEANCE. 215
Wi)e Bianq of ti)t CoiSSacfe.
Come, arouse thee up, my gallant horse, and bear thy rider on !
The comrade thou, and the friend, I trow, of the dvfeller on the
Don.
Pillage and Death have spread their wings ! 'tis the hour to hie
thee forth, «
And with thy hoofs an echo wake to the trumpets of the North !
Nor gems nor gold do men behold upon thy saddle-tree ;
But earth affords the wealth of lords for thy master and for thee.
Then fiercely neigh, my charger grey ! — thy chest is proud and
ample ;
Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and the pride of her
heroes trample !
Europe is weak — she hath grown old — her bulwarks are laid low ;
She is loath to hear the blast of war— she ehrinketh from a foe !
Come, in our turn, let us sojourn in her goodly haimts of joy —
In the pillar'd porch to wave the torch, and her palaces destroy !
Proud as when first thou slak'det thy thirst in the flow of conquer'd
Seine,
Aye shalt thou lave, within that wave, thy blood-red flanks again.
Then fiercely neigh, my gallant grey ! — thy chest is strong and
ample!
Thy hoofs shall pranee o'er the fields of Prance, and the pride of her
heroes trample !
Kings are beleaguer'd on their thrones by their own vassal crew ;
And in their den quake noblemen, and priests are bearded too ;
And loud they yelp for the Cossacks' help to keep their bondsmen
down.
And they think it meet, while they kiss our feet, to wear a tyrant's
crowu !
The sceptre now to my lance shall bow, and the crosier and the cross
Shall bend alike, when I lift my pike, and aloft THAT boeptbb
toss!
Then proudly neigh, my gallant grey! — thy chest is broad and
ample ;
Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of Pranee, and the pride of her
heroes trample !
In a night of storm I have seen a form ! — and the figure was a giant,
And his eye was bent on the Cossack's tent, and his look was all de-
fiant ; >
Kingly his crest — and towards the West with his battle-aie he
pointed ;
And the "form" I saw was Attixa! of this earth the scotu-ge
anointed.
216 FATHEE PEOTTt's EELIQtTES.
From the CosBaok's camp let the horseman's tramp the coming crash
announce ;
Let the vulture whet his beat sharp set, on the carrion field to pomioe ;
And proudly neigh, my charger grey !—0 ! thy cheat is broad and
ample;
Thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of Prance, and the pride of her
heroes trample !
What boots old Europe's boasted fame, on which she builds reUauce,
When the North shall launch its avalanche on her works of art and
science ?
Hath she not wept her cities swept by our hordes of trampling
staUions ?
And tower and arch crush'd in the march of our barbarous battalions ?
Can we not wield our fathers' shield ? the same war-hatchet handle ?
Do our blades want length, or the reapers' strength, for the harvest
of the Vandal ?
Then proudly neigh, my gallant grey, for thy chest is strong and
ample ;
And thy hoofs shall prance o'er the fields of France, and the pride of
her heroes trample !
In the foregoing glorious song of tte Cossack to his
Horse, Beranger appears to me to have signally evinced that
peculiar talent discoverable in most of his lyrical imperson-
ations, which enables him so completely to identify himself
with the character he undertakes to portray, that the poet
is lost sight of in the all-absorbing splendour of the theme.
Here we have the mind hurried away with, irresistible grasp,
and flung down among the wild scenery of the river Don,
amid the tents of the Scythians and an encampment of the
North. If we are. sufficiently dull to resist the impulse that
would transport our rapt soul to the region of the poet's
inspiration, still, even on the quiet tympanum of our effe-
minate ear, there cometh the sound of a barbarian cavalry,
heard most fearfully distinct, thundering along the rapid
and sonorous march of the stanza ; the terrific spectre of
the King of the Huns frowns on our startled fancy : and
we look on this sudden outpouring of B^ranger's tremendous
poetry vnth the sensation of Virgil's shepherd, awed at the
torrent that sweeps down from the Apennines, —
" Stupet inscius alto
Accipiens sonitum saxi de vertice pastor."
There is more where that came from. And if, instead of
THE SOfi-aS OF rBAWCE. 217
oriental imagery and " barbaric pearl and gold," camels,
palm-trees, bulbuls, houris, frankincense, silver veils, and
other gewgaws witb vfhich Tom Moore has glutted the
market of literature in his " LaUa Eookh," we could pre-
vail on our poetasters to use sterner stuff, to dig the iron
inines of the North, and send their Pegasus to a week's
training among the Cossacks, rely on it we should have more
vigour and energy in the bone and muscle of the winged
animal. Drawing-room poets should partake of the rough
diet and masculine beverage of this hardy tribe, whose
cookery has been described in " Hudibras," and of whom
the swan of Mantua gently singeth with becoming admir-
ation :
" Et lac concretum cum sanguine potat equino."
Lord Byron is never more spirited and vigorous than
when he recounts the catastrophe of Mazeppa ; and in the
whole of the sublime rhapsody of " Childe Harold," there
is not a line (where all breathes the loftiest enthusiasm) to
be compared to his northern slave,
" Butchered to make a Eomau holyday !"
He is truly great, when, in the fulness of prophetic inspi-
ration, he calls on the Goths to " arise and glut their ire !"
However, let none woo the muse of the North, without
solid capabilities : if Moore were to present himself to the ■
nymph's notice, I fear he would catch a Tartar.
The " Songs of Prance," properly so called, exhibit a fund
of inexhaustible good-humour, at the same time that they
are fraught with the most exalted philosophy. Addison
has written a "commentary" on the ballad of "Chevy
Chase ;" and the public is indebted to him for having re-
vealed the recondite value of that excellent old chant : but
there is a French lyrical composition coeval with t^e En-
glish baUad aforesaid, and containing at least an equal
quantity of contemporary wisdom. The opening verses may
give a specimen of its wonderful range of thought. Thej
run thus :
" Le bon roy Dagobert
Avait mis sa culotte ^ I'envers :
Le bon Saint Eloy
218 FATHEE PEOTTT's EELIQUES.
Lui dit, '0 mon roy !
Votre majeste
S'est mal oulott^ !'
' Eh bien,' dit ce bon roy,
' Je vads la remettre k Tendroit.' "*
I do not, as in other cases, follow up this IVench quota-
tion by a literal version of its meaning ia English, for several
reasons ; of which the principal is, that I intend to revert
to the song itself in my second chapter, when I shall come
to treat of " frogs" and " wooden shoes." But it may be
well to instruct the superficial reader, that in this apparently
simple stanza there is a deep blow aimed at the imbecility
of the then reigning monarch ; and that under the cuhtte
there Ueth much hidden mystery, explained by one Sartor
Eesartus, Professor Teufelsdrockh, a German philosopher.
Confining myself, therefore, for the present, to wine and
war, I proceed to give a notable war-song, of which the tune
* Dagobert II., Icing of Australisia, was conveyed away in his infeney
to Ireland, according to the historians of the country, by orders of a
designing maire du palais, who wished to get rid of him. (See Mezeray,
Hist, de Fran. ; the Jesuit Daniel, Hist. Franc. ; and Abbe Mao Geoghe-
han, Hist, d'lrlande.) He was educated at the school of Liamore, bo
celebrated by the venerable Bede as a college of European reputation.
His peculiar manner of wearing his trowsers would seem to hiave been
learned in Cork. St. Eloi was a brassfounder and a tinker. He is the
patron of the Dublin corporation guild of smiths, who call him (igno-
rantly) St. Loy. This saint was a good Latin poet. The king, one day
going into his chariot, a clumsy contrivance, described by BoUeau —
" Quatre bceufs attells, d'un pas tranquil et lent,
Promenaient dans Paris le monarque indolent" —
was, as usual, attended by his favourite, Eloi, and jokingly asked him
to make a couplet extempore before the drive. Eloi stipulated for the
wages of song ; and having got a promise of the two oxen, launched out
into the foEowing —
" Ascendit Dagobert, veniat bos unus et alter
In nostrum stabulum, carpere ibi pabulum !"
King Dagobert was not a bad hand at Latin verses himself, for he is
supposed to have written that exquisite elegy sung at the dirge for th«
dead —
"Dies irse, dies ilia
Solvet seeclum in favilM,
Teste David cum sibylli," &o.
THE SONGS 01' TEANCE.
219
is well known throughout Europe, but the words and the
poetry are on the point of being effaced from the superficial
memory of this flimsy generation. By my recording them
in these papers, posterity wUl not be deprived of their racy
humour and exquisite nawetS : nor shall a future age be re-
duced to confess with the interlocutor in the " Eclogues," "nu-
meros metnini, si verba tenerem." Who has not hummed in his
lifetime the immortal air of MALBEOtrcK ? Still, if the best
antiquary were called on to supply the origiaal poetic com-
position, such as it burst on the world in the decline of the
classic era of Queen Anne and Louis XIY., I fear he would
be unable to gratify the curiosity of an eager public in so
interesting an inquiry. For many reasons, therefore, it is
highly meet and proper that I should consign it to the im-
perishable tablets of these written memorials : and here, then,
followeth the song of the lamentable death of the illustrious
John Churchill, which did not take place, by some mistake,
but wa^ nevertheless celebrated as follows :
IMalliroucfe.
Malbrouok s'en va-t-en guerre,
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi rou taine,
Malbronck s'en va-t-en guerre,
On n's^ait qusmd ilreviendra. [ter.
H reviendra k P3,queB,
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine,
H reviendra k. Pdques,
Ou ilia Trinity. [_ter.
Xia, Triuite se pa^se,
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine,
la'Trihit^ se paase,
Malbrouck ne revient pas. [ter.
Madame ^ sa tour monte,
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine,
Madame ^ sa tour monte, , .
Leplus hautqu'onpeutmonter. {ter.
Bile voit venir un page,
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine,
Elle voit venir un page
De noir tout habill& Ifer.
Plalbrourfe.
Malbrouot, the prince of com-
manders,
la gone to the war in Flanders j
His fame is like Alexander's ;
But when wUl he come home ? [ier.
Perhaps at Trinity Feast, or
Perhaps he may come at Easter.
Egad ! he had better make haste, or
We fear he may never come. [ter.
For " Trinity Feast" is over,
And has brought no news from
Dover ;
And Easter is past, nioreover ;
And Malbrouck still delays, [ter.
Milady in her watch-tower
Spends many a pensive hour,
Not well knowing why or how her
Dear lord from Bnglandstays. [ter.
While sitting quite forlorn in
That tower, she spies returning
A page clad in deep mourning,
With fainting steps and slow. [<er.
220
FATHEE PEOTJT's EELIQUES.
Mon pagg, 6 mon beau page,
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine,
Mon page, 6 mon beau page,
Quelle nouvelle apportez ? [ter.
La nouvelle que j'apporte,
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine.
La nouvelle que j'apporte
Voa beaux yeux vout pleurer. [ter.
Monsieur Malbrouok est mort,
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine,
Monsieur Malbrouok est mort.
Est mort et enterr^.* [_ter.
Je I'ai Tu porter en terre,
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine,
Je I'ai vu porter en terre
Par quatrez' offioiers. [ter.
L'un portait son grand sabre,
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine,
L'un portait son grand sabre,
L'autre son bouoller. [ter.
" O page, prithee, come faster
What news do you bring of your
master ?
I fear there is some disaster.
Your looks are so full of woe." [ter.
" The news I bring, fair lady,"
With sorrowful accent said he,
" Is one you are not ready
So soon, alas ! to hear. [ter.
But since to speak I'm hurried,"
Added this page, quite flurried,
" Malbrouok is dead andburied !"—
(And here he shed a tear.) [ter,
"He'sdead! he's dead as aherring! ;
For I beheld his ' berring,'
And four officers transferring
His corpse away from thefield.per.
One officer carried his sabre, ,
And he carried it not without la-
bour.
Much envying his next neighbour,
Who only bore a shield. [ter.
The thii-d was hehnet-bearer^i
That helmet which on its wearer
KHed all who saw with terror.
And covered a hero's brains, [ter.
Now, having got so far, I
rind that (by the Lord Harry !)
The fourth is left nothing to carry j ^
So there the thing remains." [ter.
Le troisi&me son casque.
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine,
Le troisieme son casque,
Fanache renvers^. [ter.
L'autre, jene sgais pas bien.
Mi ron ton, ton ton, mi ron taine,
L'autre, je ne S9ais pas bien,
Mais je crois qu'il ne portait rien.
[ter.
Such, 0 pUegmatic iiihal)itants of these countries ! is the
celebrated funeral song of Malbrouck. It is what we would
in Ireland caU a keen over the dead, with this difference,
that the lamented deceased is, among us^ generally dead
outright, with a hole in his skull; whereas the subject of
the pathetic elegy of " Monsieur" was, at the time of its
composition, both aUve and kicking all before him. It may
not be uninteresting to learn, that both the tune and the
words were composed as a " lullaby" to set the infant Dau-
* Kfirai UarpoKXas' venvnQ Sr) filn^t/iaxovTai
THE SONGS or EBANCE. 221
phin to sleep ; and that, haTing succeeded in the object of
soporific efficacy, the poetess (for some make Madame de
Sevigne the authoress of " Malbrouck," she being a sort of
L. E. L. in her day) deemed historical accuracy a minor
consideration. It is a fact, that this tune is the only one
relished by the South Sea islanders, who find it " most
musical, most melancholy." Chateaubriand, in his Itineraire
de Jerusalem, says the air was brought from Palestine by
Crusaders.
As we have just given a war-song, or a lullaby, I shall
introduce a different subject, to avoid monotony. I shall
therefore give the poet Stranger's famous ode to Dr. Lard-
ner, concerniug his Cyclopaedia. The occasion which gave
rise to this lyrical effusion was the recent trip of Dionysius
Lardner to Paris, an.d his proposal (conveyed through Dr.
f Bowring) to Beranger, of a handsome remuneration, if the
\ poet would sing or say a good word about his " Cabinet Cyclo-
psedia," which Dr. Bowring translated as " son Encyclop^die
des Cabinets" (d'aisanee ?) Lardner gave the poet a dinner
on the strength of the expected commendatory poem, when
■the foUowing song was composed after the third bottle :
iL'<£pee tie 3@amofle£i. %%i ©tniur of l^tonyiSiuji.
De Damocles I'^pfe est bien connue, O ! who hath not heard of the sword
En songe a table il m'a sembl^ la which old Denuia
voir : Hung over the head of a Stoie ?
Sous cette ^pee et mena9ante et And how the stern sage bore that
nue, terrible menace
Denis I'ancien me for^ait ^ m'as- With a fortitude not quite he-
seoir. roic ?
Je m'^criais que mou destiu s'a- There's a Dennis the "tyrant of
cheve — Cecily" * hight.
La coupe en main, au doux bruit (Most sincerely I pity his lady,
ces concerts, ah !)
O vieux Denis, je me ris de ton Now this Dennis is dooihed for his
glaive, sins to indite
Je bois, je chante, et je siffle tes A " Cabinet Cyclopaedia." /
vers !
" Que du m^pris la haine au mdins He pressed me to dine, and ha
me sauve !" placed on my head
Dit ce pedant, qui rompt xm fil An appropriate garland of poppies j
leger;
* Dr. L. had then a bill before the lords for divorce from his first
wife, Cecilia Flood, niece of the celebrated Ii'ish orator.
222 TATHEE PEOri'S EEIIQUES.
Le fer pesant tombe sur ma tfete And, lo ! from the ceilmg there
chauve, hung by a thread
J'entenda ces mots, "Denis S9ait A bale of tmealeable copies.
se Tenger !" " Puff my writings," he cried, " or
Me Toil^ mort et poursuirant mon your skuU shall be crushed !"
rfive — " That I cannot," I answered, with
La coupe en main, je r^pfete am honesty flushed,
enfers, "Be your name Dionysius op
O vieux Denis, je me ris de ton Thady, ah !
glaive, Old Dennis, my boy, though I were
Je bois, je chante, et je sifflie tes to enjoy
vers! But one- glass and one song, still
one laugh, loud and long,
I should have at your Cyolopsedia."
So adieu, Dr. Lardner, for tlie present, ass in prasenti ;
and turn we to other topics of song.
The eye of the connoisseur has no doubt detected sundry
latent indications of the poet's consummate drollery ; but
it is in ennobling insignificant subjects by reference to his-
torical anecdote and classic allegory, that the delicate tact
and singular ability of Beranger are to be admired. It wUl
be in the recollection of those who have read the accom-
plished fabulist of Eome, Phsedrus, that he commends Si-
monides of Cos for his stratagem, when hired to sing the
praise of some obscure candidate for the honours of the
Olympic race-course. The bard, finding no material for
verse in the Hfe of his vulgar hero, launched into an enco-
mium on Castor and Pollux, twin-brothers of the olden turf.
Bdranger thus exemplifies his most homely subject by the
admixture of Greek and Eoman associations. The original
is rather too long to be transcribed here ; and as my trans-
lation is not, in this case, a literal version, the less it is con-
fronted with its prototype the better. The last stanza I do
not pretend to understand rightly, so I put it at the bottom
of the page in a note,* supposing that my readers may not
be so blind as I confess I am concerning this intricate and
enigmatical passage of the ode.
* " Diogene ! sous ton manteau,
Libre et content, je ris, je bois, sans gSne ;
Libre et content, je roule mon tonneau !
Lauteme en main, dans I'Athenes modeme
Cheroher un homme est un desseia fort beau !
Mais quand le soir voit biiller ma lanteme,
O'est aui amours qu'elle sert de flambeau."
THE SOIfaS OP PEANCE. 223
According! to Beranger, Songster.
My dwelling is ample,
And I've set an example
For all lovers of wine to foUow
If my home you should ask,
I have drain' d out a cask.
And I dwell in the fragrant hollow!
A disciple am I of Diogenes —
O ! his tub a most classical lodging is !
'Tis a beautiful alcove for thinking ;
'Tis, besides, a cool grotto for drinking:
Moreover, the parish throughout
You can readily roll it about.
O ! the berth
For a lover of mirth
To revel in jokes, and to lodge in ease,
Is the classical tub of Diogenes !
In politics I'm no adept.
And into my tub when I've crept.
They may canvass in vain for my vote.
For besides, after all the great cry and hubbub,
Bbfobm gave no " ten pound franchise" to my tub ;
So your " bill" I don't value a groat!
And as for that idol of filth and vulgarity,
Adorned now-a-days, and yclept Popularity,
To my home
Should it come.
And my hogshead's bright aperture darken,
Think not to such summons I'd hearken.
No ! I'd say to that goule grim and gaunt,
VUe phantom, avaunt !
Get thee out of my sight !
For thy clumsy opacity shuts out the light
Of the gay glorious sun
From my classical tun.
Where a hater of cant and a lover of fan
Fain would revel in mirth, and would lodge in ea.5e—
The classical tub of Diogenes !
In the park of St. Cloud there stares at you
A pillar or statue
Of my liege, the phUoaopher cynical;
There he stands on a pinnacle^
224 FATHEE PEOn's EEIIQUES.
And his lantern is placed on the ground.
While, with both eyes fixed ■wholly on
The favourite haunt of Napoleon,
" A MAW !" he exclaims, " by the powers, 1 hare found !"
But for me, when at eve I go sauntsring
On the boulevards of Athens, " Love" carries my lantern ;
And, egad ! though I walk most demurely,
For a man I'm not looking full surely;
Nay, I'm sometimes brought drvmk home,
Like honest Jack Beeve, or like honest Tom Duncombe.
O ! the nest
For a lover of jest
To revel in fun, and to lodge in ease,
Is the classical tub of Diogenes ;
So mucli for tlie poet's capability of embellishing what
IS vulgar, by the magic wand of antique recollections : pro-
prii communia dicer e, is a secret as rare as ever. When
Hercules took a distaflf in hand, he made but a poor spinner,
and broke all the threads, to the amusement of his mistress;
Beranger would have gracefully gone through even that
minor accomplishment, at the same time that the war-club
and the battle-axe lost nothing of their power when wielded
by his hand. Such is the versatility of genius !
Can any thing compare with the following ode of this
very songster of " the tub," who herein shews strikingly
with what facility he can diversify his style, vary his tone,
run " through each mood of the lyre, a master in aU !"
Ee 33tg;ton PfS^agtr. %\t Carvter^Bofie of atf)cnS.
Chanson, 1822. A Dream, 1822.
L'AibriUait, etma jexmemaitresse Helen sat by my side, and I held
Chantait les dieux dans la Grfece To her lip the gay cup in my
oublies ; bower.
Nous comparions notre France ^ When a bird at our feet we beheld,
la Grece, As we talked of old Greece in .
Quand un pigeon vint s'abattre that hour j
& nos pieds. And his wing bore a burden of
Naeris decouvre un billet sous son love,
aile ; To some fair one the secret soul
H le portait vers des foyers telling —
cWris — O drink of my cup, carrier-dove!
Bois dans ma coupe, O messager And sleep on the bosom of
fidele ! Helen.
Et dors en pais sur le sein de
Nseris.
THE SONQS OP PEANCE.
225
H est tombe, las d'vm trop-long
voyage ;
Bendons-lui vite et force et li-
berty.
D'un traffiquant remplit-il le mes-
sage?
Va-t-il d'amour parler k la
beauts ?
Peut-^tre il porte au nid qui le
rappfelle
Les derniera voeux d'm&rtun&
proscrits —
Bois dans ma coupe, O' messager
fidele !
Et dors en paix sur le sein de
BTsBris.
Mais du billet quelques mots me
font croire
Qu'il est en France 3. des Grecs
apporte ;
II vient d'Athenes ; U doit parler
de gloire ;
Lisons-le done par droit de pa-
rente—
" Athhie est libre !" Amis, quelle
nouTelle !
Que de lauriers tout-^coup re-
fleuris —
Bois dans ma coupe, O messager
fidfele!
Et dors en pais sur le sein de
Hasris.
Athene est libre ! Ah ! buTOns>& la
Grfeoe !
Nseris, Toiei de nouveaiir.demi-
dieux!
L'Europe en vain, tremblante de
viellesse,
Desheritait cea alnes glorieux.
Us sent vain queurs! Athfenes, tou-
jours belle,
N'est plus vouee au culte des
debris ! —
Bois dans ma coupe, O messager
fidMe !
Et dors en paix sur le sein de
Keeris.
Thou art tired — rest awhile, and
anon
Thou shalt soar, with new energy
thrilling.
To the land of that far-off fair one.
If such be the task thou'rt ful-
filling ;
But perhaps thou dost waft the
last word
Of despair, wrung from yalour
and duty —
Then drink of my cup, carrier-
bird!
And sleep on the bosom of
Beauty.
Ha ! these lines are from Greece !
Well I knew
The loved idiom ! Be mine the
perusal.
Son of France, I'machild of Greece
too;
And a kinsman will brook no
refusal. ,
" Greece is free!" all the gods have
concurred
To fill up our joy's brimming
measure —
O drink of my cup, carrier bird !
And sleep on the bosom of Plea-
sure.
Greece is free ! Let us drink to that
land.
To our elders in fame ! Did ye
merit
Thus to struggle alone, glorious
band!
From whose sires we our free-
dom inherit f
The old glories, which kings
would destroy,
Greece regains, never, never to
lose 'em !
O drink of my cup, bird of joy !
And sleep on my Helen's soft
bosom.
Q
226
JATHEE PEOXJT S EELIQUES.
Atliine est litre ! O, muse des Pin-
dares,
Beprends ton sceptre, et talyre,
et ta Toix !
Athfeue est libre, en depit des bar-
bares !
Athfene est libre, en depit de nos
rois !
Que I'uniTers toujours,instrmt par
elle,
RetrouTe encore Ath%nes dans
Paris —
Bois dans ma coupe, O messager
fldele !
Et dors en paix sur le sein de Nseris.
Beau Toyageur du pays des Hel-
lenes,
Bepose-toi ; puis Tole ^ tea
amours !
Vole, et bient&t, reporte dans
Athenea,
Eeviens brarer et tyrans et vau-
tours.
A tant des rois dont le trdne chan-
cele,
D'un peuple libre apporte en-
core lea oris —
Bois dans ma coupe, O mesaager
fidMe !
Etdorsenpaixsurle seindeJN^eeris.
After this specimen of Stranger's poetic powers in the
sentimental line, I shall take leave of him for the remainder
of this chapter ; promising, however, to dravsr largely on his
inexhaustible exchequer when next I levy my contributions
on the Prench. But I cannot get out of this refined and
delicate mood of quotations without indulging in the luxury
of one more ballad, an exquisite one, from the pen of my
favourite MiHevoye. Poor young fellow ! he died when full
of promise, in early life ; and these are the last lines his pale
hand traced on paper, a few days before he expired in the pretty
village of Neuilly, near Paris, whither he had been ordered
^y the physician, in hopes of prolonging, by country air, a
life so dear to the Muses. Listen to the notes of the swan !
• It would be an insult to tbe classic scholar to remind him that
Beranger has taken the hint of this song from Anacreon'a Epaff/ii!)
jrtXtia, woOtv, irodtv Tttraaaai, ode 15, (Juxta cod. Fatic.) — Pbout.
Muse of Athens ! thy lyre quick
reaume !
None thy anthem of freedom
shall hinder :
ffive Anaoreon joy in his tomb,
Audgladden the ashes of Pindar.
Helen ! fold that bright bird to thy
breast,
Nor permit him henceforth to
desert you —
O drink of my cup, winged guest !
And sleep on the bosom of
Virtue.
But no, he muat hie to his home.
To the neat where his bride is
awaiting ;
Soon again to oiu^ climate he'll
come.
The young glories of Athens re-
lating,
The baaeneaa of kiflgs to reprove,
To blush our vile rulers com-
pelling ! —
Then drink of my goblet, 0 dove!
And sleep on the breast of my
Helen.*
THE SONGS or rEANCE.
227
^rit^ pour IHoi. JRomance.
NeuUly, Octohre, 1820.
Dana la solitaire botirgade,
Berant a ees mauz tristeiuent,
Languissait un pauvre malade,
D'un mal qui le va oonsumant :
II disait, " G-ens de la chaumi^re,
Voici I'heure de la priere,
Et le tintement du befroi ;
Vous qui priez, priez pour moi !
33iajj for IKt. aJSnllatt.
By Millevoye, on his Death-ied at
the Village ofNeuilly.
Silent, remote, this hamlet seems —
How hush'd the breeze ! the eve
how cahn !
light through my dying chamber
beams.
But hope comes not, nor heal-
ing balm.
Eind yillagers ! Q-od bless your
shed!
Hark ! 'tis for prayer — the even-
ing bell —
Oh, stay ! and near my dying bed,
Maiden, for me your rosary tell !
When leaves shall strew the water-
fall,
In the sad close of autumn drear.
Say, " The sick youth is freed from
all
The pangs and wo he suffered
here."
Somay ye speak of liim that's gone;
But when your belfry toUs my
knell.
Pray for the soul of that lost one —
Maiden, for me your rosary tell !
Oh ! pity her, in sable robe,.
Who to my grassy grave will.come:
If or seekahiddenwoundto probe—-
She was my love ! — point out my
tomb ;
Tell her my life should have been,
hers — ■
'Twas but a day L— God's wiU !— ■
'tis well ::
But weep with her, kind villagers !
Maiden^for me your rosary teE !
Simple, unaffected, this is true poetry, and goes to the
heart. One ballad like the foregoing is worth a cart-load of
soi-disant elegies, monodies, soliloquies, and " bards' lega-
cies." Apropos of melodies, I just now recollect one in
Tom's own style, which it would be a pity to keep from him..
To save him the trouble of appropriating it I have done the
«2.
Mais quand vous verrez la cascade
S'ombrager de sombres rameaux,
Yous direz, ' Le jeune malade
Est deUvre de tous ses maux.'
Alors revenez sur cette rrve.
Chanter la complainte naive,
Et quand tintera le befroi,
Tous qui priez, priez pour moi !
Ma compagne, ma seule amie,,
Digne objetd'unconstantamour!
Je lui avals eonsaore ma vie,
Helas ! je ne vis qu'un jour !
Plaiguez-la, gens de la chaumiere,
I/orsque, k I'heure de la priere,
Elle viendra sous le befroi ;
Vous qui priez, priez poiu:moi!"
228 TATHEE PEOTTT'S EEMQrES.
job ; and it may challenge competition with his best concetti
and most far-fetched similes. It is from an old troubadour
called Pierre Eonsard, from whom he has picked up many a
good thing ere now.
La poudre qui dans ce cristal Dear Tom, d'ye see the rill
Le cours des heures nous retrace, Of sand within this phial ?
Lorsque dans' un petit canal It runs like in a mill,
SouTent eUe passe et repasse. And tells time like a dial.
Fut Eonsard, qui, un jour, morbleu! That sand was once Ronsard,
Par les beaux yeuxde saClytandre TiU Bessy D*** look'd at him.*
Soudain fut transforme en feu. Her eye burnt up the bard —
Et il n'en reste que la oendre. He's pulverised ! an atom !
Cendre ! qui ne t'arretes jamais, Now at this tale so horrid,
Tu t^moigneras une chose, Pray learn to keep your smUe hid,
C'est qu'ayant vu detels attraits, For Bessy's zone is "torrid,"
Le cOBur onqu^s ne repose. And fire is in her eyeMd.t
Who, after this sample of !French gallantry, will refuse
to that merry nation the sceptre of supremacy in the de-
partment of love-songs ? Indeed, the language of polite
courtship is so redolent among us of French origin, that the
thing speaks for itself. The servant-maid in the court of
•Pilate found out Peter to be from Galilee by his accent ;
and so is the dialect of genuine Gaul ever recognized by
the fair. Pelits soins — air distingu6 — faite an tour — naivete
- — billet doux — affaire de cosui — boudoir, &c. &c., and a thou-
sand other expressions, have crept, in spite of us, into our
* A gipsy had cautioned M. de la Mothe Vayer against going too
near a dyke ; but in defiance of the prophecy he married a demoisellfl
De la Fosse :
" In foved qui te moriturum dixit haruspei
Non mentitus erat ; conjugis iUa fuit !" O. Y.
t Eonsard has no claim to this ingenious concetto : it is to be found
among the poems of Jerome Amalthi, who flourished in the 14th century.
" Perspicuo in vitro pulvis qui dividit horas,
Et vagus angustum ssepe recurrit iter,
Olim erat Alcippus, qui, GallsB ut vidit ooellos,
Arsit, et eat cseco factus ab igne cinis.
Irrequiete cinis ! miserum testabere amantem
More tuo nuUA posse quiete frui."
"Mv-.ot TMti by- Mnoa^ili'-TtiJ: a.lone
THE SONas OE JEANCE. 229
every-day usage.* It was so with the Eomans in reference
to Greek, the favourite conversational vehicle of gallantry
among the loungers along the Via Sacra : at least we have
(to say nothing of Juvenal) the authority of that excellent
critic, Quintilian, who informs us that his contemporaries,
in their sonnets to the Roman ladies, stuffed their verses
with Greek terms. I think his words are: " Tanto est
sermo G-reecus Latino jucundior, ut nostri poetse, quoties
carmen dulce esse voluerunt, iUorum id nominibus exor-
nent." (Quint, xii. cap. 10; sec. 33.) And again, in another
passage, he says (lib. x. cap. 1), " Ita ut mihi sermo Eo-
manus non recipere videatiir illam solis concessam Atticis
Venerem." This is the Arrixov /SXE-ros, Aristophanes (Nubes,
1176). Addison, in his "Spectator,"" complains of the
great number of military terms imported, during the, Marl-
borough campaigns, from the fighting dictionary of Prance :
the influx of this slang he considered as a great disgrace to
his fellow-countrymen, a humiliating badge of foreign con-
quest not to be tolerated. Nevertheless, chevaux de frise —
hors de combat — aide de camp — iipit — etat major— brigade —
and a host of other locutions, have taken such root in our
soil, that it were vain to , murmur at - the circumstance of
their foreign growth.
By way of reprisals, since we have inflicted on them our
budget of steamboat and railway nomenclature, I think it but
fair to.make some compen|Sation to the French for aU the sen-
timental matters derived from their vocabulary ; and I there-
fore, conclude this first essay on their Songs by giving" them
a specimen of our own love-ditties, translated as yell as
my old hand can render the yotmg feelings. of passionate
endearment into appropriate Ftench expi^essibn : '
augustu£i OTiaBt. ^bfie Uj JBroMt.
Meet me by moonlight alone, Viens au bosquet, ce soir, sana
And then I will tell you a tale tfeoin.
Must be told by the Hght of the Dans le vallon, au clair de la
moon, lune j
In the grove at the end of the Ce que Ton t'y dira n'a besoin
vale. Ni de jour ni d'oreiUe impor-
tune.
* In King James I.'s reign a Latin play, enacted at Westminster
Sfthool, has in the prologue, "Iji* habeas /rencham qu& possis Tincere
ivAencham."
230
TATHEB TEOrT'S EELIQTJES.
O remember ! be sure to be there j
For though dearly the, moon-
light I prize,
care not for all in the air,
If I -want the sweet light of
thine eyes.
Then meet me by moonlight
alone. '
Mais surtout reuds-toi U, sans
faiUir,
Car la lune a bien moins de In-
' miere
Que I'amour n'en 89ait faire jaillir
De ta languissante paupiere.
Sois au bosquet au clair de la
lune.
Pour les coeui's saus amour le jour
luit,
Le soleil aux froids pensers pre*
side ;
Mais la pale clarte de la nuit
Favorise I'amant et le guide.
Les fleurs que son disque argentin
Colore, en toi verrontileur reine.
Quoi ! tu baisses ce regard divin,
Jeune beaute, vraiment souve-
raine ?
£ends-toi Ik done au clair de
la lune.
Daylight was made for the gay,
For the thoughtless, the heart-
less, the free ;
But there's something about the
moon's ray
That is dearer to you, love, and
me.
Oh! be sui'e to be there ! for I said
I would shew to the night-
flowers their queen.
Nay, turn not aside that sweet
head —
'lis the fairest that ever was
seen.
Then meet me by moonlight
alone.
If au Englist love-song can be so easily rendered into the
plastic language of France by one to whom that flexible and
harmonious idiom was not native (though hospitable), what
must be its capabilities in the hands of those masters of
the Grallic lyre, Victor Hugo, Lamartiue, Chateaubriand,
Delavigne, and Beranger ? To their efi"usions I shall gladly
dedicate a few more papers ; nor can I imagine any literary
pursuit better calculated to beguile, iu a pleasant and pro-
fitable fashion, the winter- evenings that are approaching.
THE SONGS or I'EANCE. 231
No. VIII.
THE SON&S OE FEANCE,
OS WINE, WAE, WOMEN, -WOODEN SHOES, PHILOSOPHY,
EEOGS, AND EEEE TEADE.
Chaptee II. — Women and "Wooden Shoes.
" If ell' estate all' ombra, nel inverno al ftioeo,
Pinger' per gloria, e poetar' per giuooo."
Saliiaior Rosa.
Cool shade is summer's haunt, fireside November's;
The red red rose then yields to glowing embers :
Etchings by Dan Maclise then place before us !
Drawings of Cork ! to aid Prout's G-allic chorus.
O. Y.
In this gloomy montli our brethren of the " broad sheet,"
resigned to the anticipated casualties of the season, keep
by them, in stereotype, announcements which never fail to
be put in requisition ; viz. " Death by Drowning," " Ex-
traordinary Fog," " Melancholy Suicide," " Pelo de se,"
with doleful headings borrowed from Young's " Night
Thoughts," Ovid's " Tristia," Hervey on Tombs, and Zim-
merman on Solitude. There is much punctuality in this
recurrence of the national dismals. Long ago, Gruy Paux
considerately selected the fifth of November for despatch-
ing the stupid and unreformed senators of Great Britain :
so cold and comfortless a month being the most acceptable,
he thought, that could be chosen for warming their ho-
nourable house with a few seasonable faggots and barrels
of gunpowder. Philanthropic citizen ! Neither he nor Sir
"William Congreve, of rocket celebrity — nor Priar Bacon,
the original concocter of "villanous saltpetre " — nor Parson
Malthus, the patentee of the "preventive check" — nor
Dean Swift, the author of " A Modest Proposal for turning
into Salt Provisions the Offspring of the Irish Poor" — nor
Brougham, the originator of the new reform in the poor
232 TATHEB PEOTJT'S EELIQTIES.
laws — ^nor Mr. O'Connell, the Belisarius of tbe poor-box,
and the stanch opponent of any provision for his half-starved
tributaries — will ever meet their reward in this world, nor
even be appreciated or understood by their blind and un-
grateful fellow-countrymen. Happily, however, for some
of the above-mentioned worthies, there is a warm corner
reserved, if not in "Westminster Abbey, most certainly in
" another place ;" where alone (Grod forgive us !), we in-
cline to think, their merits can be suitably acknowledged.
Sorrowful, indeed, would be the condition of mankind,
if, in addition to other sources of .sublunary desolation over
which we have no control, Eather Prout were, like the sun,
to obnubilate his disk, and withdraw the light of his coun-
tenance from a disconsolate world :
" Caput obscur^ nitidum ferragine texit,
Impiaque setemam timuerunt siecula noctem."
Then, indeed, would unmitigated darkness thicken the al-
ready " palpable" obscure ; dulness place another pad-" Lock
on the human understanding," and knowledge be at one
grand entrance fairly shut out. But such " disastrous
twilight " shall not befall our planet, as long as there is
MS. in " the chest " or shot in the locker. Generations
yet unborn shall walk in the blaze of Front's wisdom, and the
learned of our own day shall still continue to light the pipe
of knowledge at the focus of this luminary. So essential
do we deem the continuance of his essays to the happiness
of our contemporaries, that were we (guorf Deus avertat !)
to put a stop to our accustomed issues of " Prout paper,"
forgeries would instantly get into circulation ; a false paper
currency would be attempted ; there would arise -^nxiha-
Prouts : but they would deceive no one, much less the elect.
Parina of Cologne is obliged to caution the public, in the
envelope of his long bottles, against spurious distillations
of his wonderful water : " Eowland," of Hatton Garden,
finds more than one " Oliver" vending a counterfeit " Ma-
cassar." We give notice, that no "Prout paper" is the
real thing unless vrith label signed " Olitee Tokke."
There is a Bridgewater Treatise in circulation, said to be
from the pei\ of one Doctor Prout ; 'tis a sheer hoax. An
artist has also taken up the name ; but he must be an iin«
THE SONGS OF SEANCE. 233
poster, not known on "Watergrasshill. Owing to the law
of celibacy, "the Father" can have left behind him no
children, or posterity whatever : therefore, none but himself
can hope to be his parallel. We are perfectly aware that
he may have " nephews," and other collateral descendants ;
for we admit the truth of that celebrated placard, or lam-i
poon, stuck on Pasquin's statue in the reign of Pope Bor-
ghese (Paul IV.) :
" Ciim factor rerum privaret semine elemm,
In Satanse TOtum suooessit turba nepotum ! " — i. e,
" Of bantlings when our clergymen were freed from having beviea,
There next arose, a crowd of woes, a multitude of nevies !"■
But should any audacious thief attempt to palm himself
as a son of this venerable pastor, let him look sharp ; for
Terry Oallaghan, who is now in the London police (through
the patronage of Feargus O'Connor), will quickly collar the
ruffian in the most inaccessible garret of Grub Street : to
profane so respectable a signature, the fellow must be what
Terry calls " a bad mimber intirely ;" what we English call
a "jail-bird ;" what the French denominate a " vrai gibier
de grhve ;" termed in Latin, " corvus patibularms ;" and by
the Greeks, xaxou xo^axog -Aaxov uov.
We have to acknowledge the receipt of a communication,
referring to our " Songs of France," from the pen of the faceti-
ous knight. Sir Charles Wetherell. Great men's peculiarities
attract no small share of public attention : thus, ex. gr. Na-
poleon's method of plunging his fore-finger and thumb into
his waistcoat pocket, in Ueu of a snuff-box, was the subject
of much European commentary ; and one , of the twelve
Caesars was nicknamed Caligula from a peculiar sort of Wel-
Hngton boot which he happened to fancy. {Suet, in vitd.)
Some poet has not scrupled to notice a feature in our learned
correspondent's habiliment, stating him to be
" Much famed for length of sound sagacious speeches,
More stiU for brevity of braceless b s,"
— a matter not quite irrelevant to the topic on which Sir
Charles has favoured us with a Hne.
' " Aix-la-Chapelle, Octoier'7.
" Deae Toeke,
" I've just been here paying my devotions to
the tomb of Chaxlemag-ne, and on my return to my hotel I
234 TATHEE PEOUT'S EELIQTTES.
find your last number on my table. What the deuce do
you mean by giving a new and unheard-of version of the
excellent song on " Le bon Eoy Dagobert," who, you say,
" avait mis sa culotte 5 Venvers ;" whereas all good editions
read"rfe frauerj ;" which is quite a different sense, lectic
longh emendatior ; for he wore the garment, not inside out,
but wrong side foremost. Again, it was not of Australesia that
he was king, but of " Grallia braccata." Pray avoid similar
blunders. " Yours in haste,
" C. W."
"Wishing him a pleasant tour through the Grermanic con-
federation, and hoping it may be long ere he reach that goal
of all human pilgrimage, the diet of Worms, we bow to the
baiTonet's opinion, and stand corrected.
OLIVEE, TOEKE.
Nov. 1st, 1834.
WatergrassMU, Nov. 1833.
" IiiLE ego qui quondam," is a formula, first used to con-
nect the epic cantos of the JEneid with a far more irre-
proachable poem, its agricultural predecessor. Virgil (like
Lord Althorp when he thinks posterity will forgive his
political bluuders in consideration of his breed of cattle)
sought to bolster up the imperfections of his heroic cha-
racters by a reference to the unexceptionable Meliboeus,
and to that excellent old Calabrian farmer whose bees
hummed so tunefully under the " lofty towers of (Ebalia."
Now, in referring to a previous paper on the " Songs of
France," my object is not similar. Unknown to my con-
temporaries, it is when I am moulderiag in the quiet tomb
where my rustic parishioners shall have laid me, that these
papers will start into lite, and bask in the blaze of publi-
city. Some paternal publisher — perchance some maternal
magazine — will perhaps take charge of the deposit, and
hatch my eggs with successful incubation. But let there be
care taken to keep each batch separate, and each brood dis-
tinct. The French hen's family should not be mixed up with
THE SONGS or rSANCB. 235
the chickens of the Muscovy duck ; and each series should
be categorically arranged, " Series jimcturaque pellet"
(Ilor.) Pop instance : the present essay ought to come
after one bearing the date of " October," and containing
songs about " wine ;" such topic being appropriate to that
mellow month, which, from time immemorial (no doubt be-
cause it rhymes with " sober"), has been set apart for jolli-
fication. The Germans call it " weinmonath."
These effusions are the offspring of my leisure ; nor do I
see any cause why such, hours should be refused to the pur-
suits of literature. The sonnets of Prancis Petrarca were
not deemed a bigh misdemeanour at the papal court of
Avignon, though written by an archdeacon. Nor was Vida
a worse bishop in his diocese of Albi, for having sung the
silk-worm (" Bombyces," Bile, 1537), and the game of chess
(" Schiaccia Ludus," Eomae, 1527). Yet I doubt not that
there may be found, when I am dead, in some paltry pro-
vincial circle, creatures without brains, who will stigmatize
my writings, as unbefitting the cbaracter of an aged priest.
Their short-sightedness I deplore, their rancorous malevo-
lence I contemplate not in anger, but in sorrow. I divest
myself of all community of feeling with such people. I
cast them off ! When a snake in the island of Malta en-
twined itself round the arm of Paul, with intent to sting
the teacher of the Grentiles, he gently shook the viper from
his wrist ; and was not to blame if the reptile fell into the
fire.
To return to the interesting subject of literary researches.
Pull gladly do I resume the pleasant theme, and launch my
simple skiff on the wide expanse of song —
" Once more upon the waters ; yea, once more !"
The minstrelsy of Prance is happily inexhaustible. The
admirers of what is delicate in thought, or polished in ex-
pression, will need no apology for drawing their attention
to these exquisite trifles : and the student of general litera-
ture will acknowledge the counecting-Unk wliich unites,
though unseen, the most apparently remote and seemingly
dissimilar departments of human knowledge. " Omnes
enim artes, quae ad humanitatem pertinent, habent quoddam
commune vinculum," says Cicero. But ia the present case
236 /ATHBE PBOTJT'S EEIIQTJES.
the link is one of positive consanguinity. To wiat class of
readers, since the conquest of this fair island and its unfor-
tunate sister by the chivalrous Normans, can the songs of
that gallant race of noble marauders and glorious pirates be
■without thrilling interest ? Not to relish such specimens of
spirit-stirring poesy, the besotted native must be only fit to
herd among swine, with the collar round his neck, like the
Saion serf of Cedric ; or else be a superficial idiot, like
" "Wamba, the son of Wit-less the jester." Selecting one
class of the educated public, by way of exemplification,
where all are concerned, — the Bar, — the language of Erance
and her troubadours cometh in the character of a profes-
sional requirement. By submitting to their perusal thepe
ballads, I shall, mayhap, reconcile them to the many tedious
hours they are doomed to spend in conning over what must
otherwise appear the semi-barbarous terms of jurisprudence
bequeathed by AVilliam le Eoux with the very structure of
his HaU, and coeval with its oak roof and its cobwebs. In
reference to the Grallic origin of our law and its idiom, it
was Juvenal who wrote {Sat. XV. v. 110) —
" Gallia causidioos docuit facunda Britannos :"
furnishing an incontestable proof that poetry akin to pro-
phecy, with " eye in a fine frenzy rolling," can discover the
most improbable future event in the womb of time.
A knowledge of the ancient vocabulary of Prance is ad-
mitted to be of high itoportance in the perusal of our early
vmters on history, as well as on legislation : in poetry and
prose, as weU as in Chancery and Doctors' Commons. An
old song has been found of consequence in elucidating a
disputed construction ; and, in point of fact, the only title-
deed the Grenoese can put forward to claim the invention of
the mariners' compass is the lay of a French troubadour.*
Few are aware to what extent the volatile literature of our
merry neighbours has pervaded the mass of British author-
ship, and by what secret iufluences of imitation and of re-
miniscence the spirit of Norman song has flitted through the
conquered island of Britain. From G-eoffrey Chaucer to Tom
* A ballad, " La Bible," from the pen of Guyot de Provins, dated
A.D. 1190, and commencing, " Ue nostre p&re I'apostoile." It is a pas-
quinade against the court of Home.
THE SONGS OP rBANCB,
237
Moore (a vast interval !), there is not one, save the immortal
Shakespeare perhaps, whose writings do ^not betray the
secret working of this foreign essence, mixed up with the
crude material of Saxon growth, and causing a sort of gentle
fermentation. Take Oliver Goldsmith, whom every critic
calls an eminently English vn'iter of undoubted originality ;
now place in juxtaposition with an old French song his
" Elegy on a Mad Dog," and the " Panegyric of Mrs. Mary
Blaze," and judge for yourself :
(©oHJSmtt]&.
i9c la iKorino^e.
Good people all, of every sort, Messires, tous plaist-il d'ouir,
Give ear unto my song, L'air du fameux La Palisse?
And if you find it wondrous short, H pourra vous rejouir,
It cannot hold you long. Poiurru qu'il vous divertisse.
In Islington there Uved a man,
Of whom the world might say,
That stUl a godly race he ran
Whene'er he went to pray.
A kind and gentle heart he had.
To comfort friends and foes ;
The naked every day he clad,
When he put on his clothes.
n etait afiable et doux,
De I'humeur de feu son pferei
II n' etait gu^re en courroux.
Si ce n'est dans sa colere.
Bien instruit d^s le berceau,
Onques, tant etait honnete,
n ne mettait son chapeau,
Qu'U ne se couvrit la tfete.
The final catastrophe, and the point which forms the sting
of the whole "Elegy," is but a literal version of a long-
established G-allic epigram, viz. :
Quand un serpent mordit Aurele, But soon a wonder came to Hght,
Que orois-tu qu'il en arriva P That shewed the rogues they lied ;
Qu' Aurele mourut P — bagafeUe ! The man recovered from the bite,
Ce fat le serpent qui creva. The dog it was that died.
Then as to Mrs. Blaze ; I regret to say that her virtues and
accomplishments are all second-hand ; the gaudy finery in
which her poet has dressed her out is but the cast-off
frippery Erench. Ex. gr. :
The public all, of one accord,
Lament for Mrs. Blaze ;
Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praise.
St la JKoniiogt.
H brillait comme un soleil,
Sa chevelure etait blonde ;
II n'eut pas eu de pareil,
S'il eut ^te seul au monde.
238 FATHEE PEOUt's EELIQUEa
At church, in silts and satins new, Monte sur un oheval noir,
With hoop of monstrous size, Les dames le minaudfereut •
She nerer slumb3red in her pew Et e'est Ik qu'il ce fit voir,
But when she shut her eyes. A ceux qui le regardfereut.
Her love was sought, I do aver, Dans un superbe toumoi.
By twenty beaux and more ; Prest k foumir sa carrifere,
The king himself has f(i>llowed her Quand it fut devant le roi,
When she has walked before. Certes il ne fut pas derrifere.
Let us lament in sorrow sore ; II fut, par un triste sort,
For Kent street well may say, Blesse d'une main erueUe ;
That, had she hved a twelvemonth On croit, puisqu'il en est mort,
more, Que la playe ^taite morteUe.
She had not died to-day.*
It is not without a certain degree of concern for the cha-
racter of Groldsmith, that I have brought to light this in-
stance of petty larceny. "Why did he not acquaint us with
the source of his inspiration ? Why smuggle these Prench
wares, when he might have imported them lawfully by pay-
ing the customary duty of acknowledgment ? The B,oman
fabulist, Phffidrus, honestly teUa the world how he came by
his wonderful stock-in-trade :
" ^sopus auctor quam materiam reperit,
Hanc ego polivi versibus senariis."
Such is the sign-board he hangs out in the prologue to his
book, and no one can complain of unfair dealing. But to
return to the connexion between our literature and that of
France.
Pope avowedly modelled his style and expression on the
■writings of Boileau ; and there is perceptible in his didactic
essays a most admirable imitation of the lucid, methodical,
and elaborate construction of his Gallic origin. -Dryden
appears to have reafl with predilection the works of Cor-
neille and Malherbe : like them, he is forcible, brilliant, but
unequal, turgid, and careless. Addison, it is apparent,
was intimately conversant with the tasteful and critical
writings of the Jesuit Bouhours ; and Sterne is but a rifa-
cimento of the Vicar of Meudon, the reckless Eabelais.
* This joke is as old as the days of St. Jerome, who applies it to
his old foe, B.uiBau3. "G-runnius Corocotta, poroeUus, visit annos
vcccoxcix. : qaibdi. si semis vixisset,. m. annos impl^sset."
THE SONGS OE TEANCE. 239
"Who will question the influence exercised by Molifere over our
comic writers — Sheridan, Farquhar, and Congreve ? Indeed,
our theatre seems to have a prescriptive right to import
its comedies from Prance, wholesale and duty free. At the
brilliant and dazzling torch of La Pontaine, Gray humbly lit
his slender taper ; and Fielding would be the first to admit
his manifold obligations to Le Sage, having drank deep at
the fountain of " GU Bias." Hume the historian is notori-
ous for his G-allicisms ; and perhaps it was owing to his
long residence abroad that the pompous period of Gribbon
was attuned to the melody of Massillon. If I do not men-
tion Milton among our writers who have profited by the
perusal of GralUcan models, it is because the Italian
school was that in which he formed his taste and harmon-
ised his rhythmic period.
But, to trace the vestiges of French phraseology to the
very remotest paths of our literary domain, let us examine
the chronicles of the Plantagenets, and explore the writings
of the incomparable Proissart. His works form a sort of
connecting link between the two countries during the wars
of Cressy and Agincourt : he was alternately a page at the
court of Blois, a minstrel at the court of "Winceslas in Bra-
bant, a follower of the French King Charles, and a suivant
of Qiieen Philippa of England. Though a clergyman, he
was decidedly to be classified under the genus troubadour,
partaking more of that character than of any ecclesiastical
peculiarities. For, lest I should' do injustice to his life and
opinions, I shall let him draw his own portrait :
" Au boire je prends grand plaisir,
Aussi fais-je en beau draps vestir :
Oir de menestrel parolles,
Veoir danses et carolles ;
Violettes en leur saison,
Et roses blanches et vermeiUes ;
Voye Tolontiers, ear o'est raison,
Jeux, et danses, et longues veilles,
Et chambres pleines de candeilles .'"
Now this jolly dog Proissart was the boon comrade of our
excellent Geoffrey Chaucer ; and no doubt the two worthy
clercs cracked many a bottle together, if not in Cheapside,
at least on this side of the Channel. How far Geoffrey was
24i0 FATHEE PEOn'S EEIIQTJES.
indebted to the Prenchman for his anecdotes and stories,
for his droll style of narrative, and the pungent salt with
which he has seasoned that primitive mess of porridge, the
" Canterbury Tales," it would be curious to investigate.
But it is singular to find the most distinguished of France,
England, and Italy's contemporary authors met shortly
after, as if by mutual appointment, in Provence, the land of
song. It was on the occasion of a Duke of Clarence's visit
to Milan to marry the daughter of Galeas II. ; a ceremony
graced by the presence of the Count of Savoy and the King
of Cyprus, besides a host of literary celebrities. Thither
came Chancer, Froissart, and Petrarca, by one of those
chance dispositions of fortune which seem the result of a
most provident foresight, and as if the triple genius of'
French, English, and Italian literature had presided over
their reunion. It was a literary congress, of which the con-
sequences are felt to the present day, in the common agree-
ment of international feeling in the grand federal republic
of letters. Of that eventful coUoquy between these most
worthy representatives of the three leading literatures of
Europe, nothing has transpired but the simple fact of its
occurrence. Still, one thifig is certain, viz., that there were
then very few features of difierence in even the languages,
of the three nations which have branched off, since that pe-
riod, in such wide divergency of idiom :
" When shall we three meet again !"
Chaucer has acknowledged that it was from Petrarch he
learned, on that occasion, the story of Q-riselda; which
story Petrarch had picked up in Provence, as I shall shew
by and by, on producing the original French ballad. But
here is the receipt of Chaucer, duly signed, and most cir-
cumstantial :
" I wol you tel a tale, tlie which that I
Lamed at Padowe, of a worthy olero,
Ab proved by his wordea and his werfc.
He is now dead, and nailed in his chest,
I pray to G-od to geve his sowle rest.
Prauncis Petrark, the laureat poete,
Hight was this clerk, whose rhetoricke so swete
Enlumined all Itaflle of poetrie."
I'roloyue to Griselidh, in " Cant. Tales."
THE SONGS OF FEANCB. 241
"We learn, from William of Malmesbury (lib. iii.), and
from various contemporary sources, that the immediate suc-
cessors of the Conqueror brought over from Normandy
numbers of learned men, to fill the ecclesiastical and other
beneficial employments of the country, to the exclusion of
the native English, who were considered dunces and unfit
for office. Ajij one who had the least pretension to be
considered a s^avant elerc, spoke French. In the reign of
Henry III. we have Eobert Grrossetite, the well- known
bishop of Lincoln (who was born in Suffolk), writing a
work in French called " Le Chasteau d' Amour ;" and ano-
ther, " Le Manuel des P^ch^es." Of this practice Chaucer
complains, somewhat quaintly, in his " Testament of Love"
(ed. 1542) : " Certes there ben some that speke thyr poysy
mater in Ffrench, of whyche speche the Pfrenchmen have
as gude a fantasye as we have in hearing of Ffrench mennes
Englyshe." Tanner, in his " Biblioth. Brit.," hath left us
many curious testimonies of the feeling which then pre-
vailed on this subject among the jealous natives of England.
See also the Harleian MS. 3869.
But the language of the troubadours stiU remained com-
mon to both countries, when, for all the purposes of do-
mestic and public Kfe, a new idiom had sprung up in eaeh
separate kingdom. Extraordinary men! These songsters
were the favourites of every court, and the patronised of
every power. True, their Ufe was generally dissolute, and
their conduct unscrupulous ; but the mantle of poetic in-
spiration seems to have covered a multitude of sins. I
cannot better characterise the men, and the times in which
they lived, than by introducing a ballad of B^ranger — the
"Dauphin:"
Ha i^ai^SHTice Su |Baup]^m.
Du bon vieux terns eomScez que je vous parle.
Jadis Eiohard, troubadour renomme,
Avait pour Eoy Jean, Louis, Philippe, ou Charle,
Ne s^ais lequel, mais il en fut aime.
D'rtn gros dauphin on fStait la naissanoe ;
Eiehard k Blois etait depuis un jour :
n ap^rit ]k le bonheur de la France.
Pour votre rol ehantez, gai troubadour !
Chantez, ehantez, jeune et gai troubadour !
B
242 FATHEB PEOTTT'S BBiKjrES.
La harpe en main Bichard vient sur la place i
Chacun lui dit, " Chantez notre garQon!"
Devotement k la Vierge il rend grace,
Puis au dauphin consacre une chanson.
On I'applaudit ; I'auteur ^tait en veine :
Mainte beaute le trouve fait au tour,
Disant tout has, " II doit plaire a la reine /"
Pour Totre roi chantez, gai troubadour !
Chantee, chantez, jeune et gai troubadour
Le chant fini, Richard court a I'eglise ;
Qu'y Ta-t-il faire ? II cherche un oonfesseur.
II en trouTe un, gros moine h. barbe grise,
Des moeurs du terns inflexible censeur.
"Ah, sauvez moi des flammes ^temeUes !
Mou p&re helas ! c'est un vilain sejour.''
" fi§u'ntit?=^l)Oua fait ?" " J'ai trop aime les belles !"
Pour TOtre roi chantez, gai troubadour !
Chantez, chantez, jeune et gai troubadour!
"le grand malheur, mon pfere, c'est qu'ou m'aime !"
" <pavU5, mon Bis ; txplique^^boua tnSn."
"J'ai fait, helas ! narguant le diadfeme,
Un gros peche ! car j'ai fait — un dauphin ! !"
D'abord le moine a la mine ^bahie ;
Mais U reprend, " irDuB=£teB fiieit en tour ? —
^outi)OB£(=nous B'une ritlje abfaasE."
Pour TOtre roi chantez, gai troubadour !
Chantez, chantez, j^une et gai troubadour!
Lfi moine ajoute ; " Eut-on fait a la reine
Un prince ou deux, on peut etre sauT^.
Parlez de nous a notre souveraine : ■
Allez, mon fils ! tous direz cinq Ave."
Bichard absous, gagnant la capitale,
Au nouTeau-ne voit prodiguer I'amour 5
Vive ^jamais notre race royale !
Pour TOtre roi chantez, gai troubadour !
Chantez, chantez, jeune et gai troubadour!
Ci^e i0aupl)in'a JStrtpaw.
Let me sing you a song of the good old timee.
About Richard the troubadour.
Who was loved by the king and the queen for his rhymes }
Sut by which of our kings I'm not sure.
THE SONGS OF FEANCE. 243
Now a dauphin was bom while the court was at Blois,
And all Prance felt a gladness pure ;
Kichard's heart leapt for joy when he heard 'twas a hoy.
Sing for your ting, young and gay troubadour 1
Sing well you may, troubadour young and gay !
So he went with his harp, on his proud shoulder hung,
To the court, the resort of the gay ;
To the Virgin a hymn of thanksgiving he sung.
For the dauphin a new " rondelay."
And our nobles tlocked round at the heart-stirring sound,
And their dames, dignified and demure.
Praised his bold, gallant mien, and said " He'll please the qtteen!"
Sing for your king, young and gay troubadour !
Oh, sing well you may, troubadour young and gay !
But the song is now hushed, and the crowd is dispersed :
To the abbey, lo ! Eichard repairs.
And he seeks an old monk, in the legend well yersed.
With a long flowing beard and ^ey hairs.
And " Oh, save me !" he cries, " holy father, from hell ;
'Tis a place which the soul qau't endure '."
" ffif gDUt shrift ttll tijie Bxift ;" " J'ai trap aimeles belles!"
Sing for your king, young and gay troubadour J
Sing well you may, troubadour, young and gay !
" But the worst is untold !" " 1|aste, me Bonne, ant) it aT)r(6cn ;
ffleli 50«r guilt— its results— ^otti pott sinneK, anB i)Oto often."
" Oh, my guUt it is great ! — can my sin be forgiven —
Its result, holy monk ! is— alas, 'tis a DAtrPHnf !"
And the fri^r grew pale at so startling a tale,
But he whispered, " jpor tiS, Sonne, procure
(Sfje totU Btant It, I tncen) afibcg lanH from ti)e queen."
Sing for your king, young and gay troubadour !
Sing well you may, troubadour young and gay I
Then the monk said a prayer, and the sin, light as air,
Flew away from the penitent's soul ;
And to Paris went Richard to sing for the fair,
" Virelai," sonnet gay, and " oarolle :"
And he mingled with joy in the festival there.
Oh ! while beauty and song can aEure,
May our old royal race never want for an heir!
Sing for your king, young and gay troubadour !
Sing well you may, troubadour young and gay !
It does not enter into my plan to expatiate on the
moral conclusion or political im/iuSiov which this ballad
suggests, and which with sarcastic ingenuity is so adroitly
insinuated. It is, in fact, a lyrical epigram on the admirers
244 TATHEE FEOTJT'S EELIQTJEB.
of hereditary legislation. To the venerable owls who roost
in Heralds' College, this is startling matter : in sooth, it
sheds a quiet ray on the awful sublimities of genealogical
investigation. It may serve as a commentary on the well-
known passage of Boileau (pilfered unceremoniously by
Pope), in which the current of princely blood is said to flow
" de Lucr^ce en Lucrfece ;" but we do not expect an edition
of the song to be published "in usum Delphini." Five
Henri Cinq ! concerning whose birth the song was written.
On all matters in which the characters of the ladies may
be involved, I recommend constant caution and the most
ecrupulous forbearance to both poets and historians. The
model of this delicate attention may be found among the
troubadours. I more particularly allude to the Norman
school of French poesie ; for I regret to state, that in Pro-
vence there was not always the same veneration and myste-
rious homage paid to the gentler sex, whose very frailties
should be shrouded by the poet, and concealed from the
vulgar gaze of the profane. In Normandy and the adjacent
provinces, the spirit of chivalry was truly such as described
by our hot-headed Irish orator, when, speaking of Marie
Antoinette, he fancies ten thousand swords ready to leap
from their scabbards at the very suspicion of an insult.
The instinctive worship of beauty seems to have accompap
nied that gallant race of noble adventurers from their Scan-
dinavian settlements beyond the Elbe and the Ehine ; for
we find the sentiment attributed to their ancestors by Taci-
tus, in his admirable work "De Moribus G-ermanorum,"
where he writes, as well as I can recollect, as follows : " Inesse
quinetiam fceminis sanctum aUquid et providum putant."
The ballad of " Griselidis," to which I have made allusion in
talking of the " Canterbury Tales," and which I then pro-
mised to give in its original old Norman simplicity, finely
illustrates aU. that is noble and chivalrous in their respect
for female loveliness and purity. My version runs in the
old ballad idiom, aa nearly as that quaint style can be
revlTed.
THE SONGS OP rEAKCE.
245
Romance.
Eseoutez icy jouyencelles,
Ecoutez aussy damoiseauz,
Vault mieux estre bone que belle,
Vault mieux estre loyal que
beau!
Beaute passe, passe jeunesse,
Btote reste et gagne les coeurs;
Aveo doulceur et gentiUesse
Espiues se cbangeut en fleurs.
Belle, mais pauvre et souffreteuse,
Vivoit jadis Griseledis ;
Alloit aux champs, estoit glaneuse,
Piloit beau lin, gardoit brebis j
N'estoit fyUe de hault, parage,
H'aToit comt^ ny joyaux d'or,
Mais ayoit plus, car estait sage —
Mieulx vault sagesse que tresor!
TJng jour qu'aux champs estoit
seulette,
Vinst k passer Sire Gaultier,
Las ! sans chien estoit la paurrette,
Sans page estoit le chevalier j
Mais en ce siecle, oh I'innocence
N'avoit k craindreaucun danger,
Vertu veilloit, dormoit prudence,
Beaulx tems n'auriez pas du
changer !
Taiit que sommeille la bergfere,
Beau sireeust le tems d' admirer,
Mais dJs qu'entr'ouvrist la pau-
pi&re,
Fust force de s'en amourer ;
" Belle," dit-il, " serez ma mie.
Si voulez venir k ma cour ?"
"ITenny, seigneur, vous remercie,
Honneur vault bien playsir
d'amour ?"
&xiitlaa.
A Romaunt.
List to my baUad, for 'twaa made ei-
presse.
Damsels, for you ;
Better to be (beyond all lovelinesse)
LoyaU and true !
Padeth fair face, bright beauty blooms
awhile,
Soon to departe ;
Goodness abydeth aye ; and gentle
smyle
Gtiineth y" heaite.
There lived a maiden, beautifuU but
poore,
GHeaning y" fields ;
Foorpittaunceshepherd'scrookupon
y' moor.
Or distaff yields !
Tet tho' no castel hers had ever been,
Jewells nor golde,
Kindnesse she hadde and virtue;
thyngs, I ween.
Better fowr folde !
One day a cavalier. Sir Walter hight,
Travelled that way j
Nor dogge j' shepherdesse, nor page
j' knight
Hadde on that day.
But in those times of innocence and
truth,
Virtue alone
Kept vigil in our land ; bright days,
in sooth.
Where are ye gone ?
Long on y" maiden, as she slept, ha
Could gaze for months !
But when awapng, two soft eyelids
raised.
Loved her at once !
" Fair one, a knight's true love canst;
thou despise,
With golden store ?"
" Sir Knight, true love I VEilae, but
I prize
Honour far more !"
246
PATHEE PEOTTT'S EELIQrES.
" Vertu, dit-i], paase noblesse !
Serez ma femme d6s ce jour —
Serez dame, serez comtesse,
Si me jurez, au nom d'amour,
De m'obeir quand deyrai, meme
Bien durement, vous ordon-
ner ?"
" Sire, obeir h, ce qu'on aime
Est bieu plus doux que com-
mander ?"
Ne jura pour estre comtesse,
Mais avoit vu le cheTalier ;
A I'amour seul fist la promesse :
Puis monta sur son destrier.
N'avoit besoiu de bienseances
Le terns heureux des bonnes
mceurs ;
Fausses 6toient les apparances,
Nobles et yrays estoient les
cceurs!
" I too prize honour above, high de-
scent
And all beside ;
Maiden, be mine ! yea, if thou wilt
consent,
■ Be thou my bride !
Swear but to do y' bidding of thy
liege
Faithful and fond."
" TeU not of oaths, Sir Euight 5 is
not love's pledge
A better bond ?"
Not for his castel and his broad do-
Spoke so ye maid,
But that she loved y' handsome
tnight — Love fain
Would be obeyed.
On y' same charger with the knight
she rodde.
So passed along ;
Nor blame feared she, for then all
hearts were good ;
None dreamed of wrong.
And they rodde on untiU rose on y'
sight
His castel towers ;
And there that maiden lived with
that good knight
In marriage bowers,
Diffusing blessings among all who
dwelt
Within that vale :
Q-oodnesB abydeth aye — her smile is
felt,"
Tho' beauty fail!
Lives there one witb soul so dead as not to admire the
genuine high-miadedness of these primitive times, expressed
in this pleasing record of what was no romance, but matter
of frequent occurrence in the days of chivalry ? The ballad
has got into many languages, and is interwoven vfith the
traditional recollections of many a noble house ; but the
original is undoubtedly the above. Moore has twisted it
into a melody, " Tou remember Ellen, our hamlet's pride ;"
and he seeks to connect the story with " an interestiiig tale
Taut chevauch^rent par la plaiue
Qu'arrivferent k la cite ;
(Jriseledis fust souveraine
De ce riche et puissant comt4 ;
Chascun I'aima ; sous son empire
Chasoun ressentit ses bienfaits :
Beauts pr^vient, doulceur attire
Bout^ gtigue et fixe k jamais !
THE SONGS OF FEAJTCE. 247
told df a certain noble family in England."* Unfortunately
for such attempts, the lays of the Norman troubadours, like
the Grovernment ropes in the dock-yard at Portsmouth, have
in their texture a certain twist by which they are recognised
when they get into the possession of thieves.
These Normans were a glorious race ! No, neither the
sons of Greece in their palmiest days of warlike adventure
(oj^Xos Ayaioiv), nor the children of the Tiber, that miscel-
lany of bandits and outlaws {tyrha Remi), ever displayed
such daring energy as the tribe of enterprisiag Northerns
who, in the seventh, eighth, and subsequent centuries, af-
frighted and dazzled the world with the splendour of their
achievements. Prom the peninsula of Jutland, their narrow
home on the Baltic, they went forth to select the choicest
and the fairest provinces of the south for their portion : the
banks of the Seine,t the kingdom of Naples, the island of
Sicily, the Morea, Palestine, Constantinople, England, Ire-
land,— they conquered iu succession. The proudest names
in each land through which they passed glory in tracing up
a Norman origin ; and while their descendants form the
truest and most honourable aristocracy in Europe, their
troubadours still reign paramount, and unsurpassed in every
mode and form of the tuneful mystery. Their architectural
remains are not more picturesque and beautiful than the
fragments of their ballads and their war-songs ; and Be-
ranger himself (by-the-by, a Norman patronymic, and an
evidence of the poet's excellent lineage) has but inherited
the lyre of that celebrated minstrel who is described in a
contemporary poem on the conquest of this island :
Taillefer ki mult bien cantout, Dan Tallyfer, who sang right well,
Sur img cheval ki tost allout, Borne on a goodly haridelle,
* Meaning, of course, the marriage of Henry, Earl of Exeter, to
Sarah Hoggins, of the village of Hodnet, in Shropshire, Oct. 3, 1791.
Queer materials for an Irish melody.
t Such was the terror with which they inspired the natives of Fiance
before Duke EoUo'b conversion to Christianity, that there is in the
office of the Parisian Breviary a hymn, composed about that period,
and containing a prayer against the Normans —
" Auferte gentem perfidam
Credentium de finibus," &c. &c. ;
which remains to this day a memorial of consternation.
248
FATHEE PEOVT 8 EELIQTJES.
Devant le host allout cantant
De £arleiiiain e de BoUaut,
Pranced in the ran and led the tiraiTi,
With songs of Koland and Charle-
maine.
But I venture to say, that never was Charlemagne sung by
his ablest troubadour in loftier strains than those in which
B&anger has chanted the great modern inheritor of his
iron crown, anointed like him by a Pope, and like him the
sole arbitrator of European kingdoms and destinies.
%t6 Sioubentre Du ^cuple.
Beranger.
On parlera de sa gloire
Sous le ohaume bien long-
temps ;
L'humble toit, dans cinqnante
ans,
Neconnattra plus d' autre histoire.
L&. viendront les villageois
Dire alors k quelque vieille ;
Par des r^cits d'autrefois,
Mere, abr^gez notre veille :
Bien, dit-on, qu'il nous ait nui,
Le peuple encor le revere,
Oui, le revfere.
Parlez-nous delui,grand'mfere!
Parlez-nous de lui !
33npular 3RtroItetttoit3 of
)Suonaparte.
They'll talk of him for years to come,
In cottage chronicle and tale ;
When for aught else renown is dumb,
His legend shall prevail !
Then in the hamlet's honoured chair
Shall sit some aged dame,
Teaching to lowly clown and villager
That narrative of fame.
'Tis true, they'll say, his gorgeous
throne
Prance bled to raise ;
But he was all our own !
Mother ! say something in his prads^—
O speak of him always !
" Mes enfans, dans ce village,
Suivi de rois, U passa,
VoUa bien long- temps de qa, :
Je venais d'entrer en manage.
A pied grimpant le cdteau.
Oil pour voir je m'^tais mise ;
II avait petit chapeau,
Avec redingote grise.
Pr^s de lui je me troublai,
II me dit, ' Bonjour, ma chere !
Bonjour, ma chdre!'"
H V0U8 a parl4 grand'm^re !
II vouB a parl^ !
" I saw him pass : his was a host :
Cotmtless beyond your young ima-
ginings—
My children, he could boast
A train of conquered kings !
And when he came this road,
'Twas on my bridal day.
He wore, for near to him I stood.
Cocked hat and surcoat grey.
I blushed ; he said, ' Be of good cheer !
Courage, my dear !'
That was his very word."^
Mother ! 0 then this really occurredi
And yo I his voice could hear I
THE SONGS or rBATTCE.
2d,9
"L'an d'apr^s, moi pauyre
femme,
A Paria Aant un jour,
Je le Tis aveo sa oour ;
II ae rendait a Notre-Dame.
Toua les coeure etaient contena ;
On admirait son cortege,
Chaouu disait, 'Quel beau
tema !
le Ciel toujoura le protege.'
Son sourire etait bien doux,
D'un fils Dieu le rendait p6re,
Le rendait pfere !" —
Quel beau jour pour vous,
grand'mere 1
Quel beau jour pour tous 1
" Mais quand la pauvre Cham-
pagne
Put en proie aux etrangera,
Lui, bravant toua les dangera,
Semblait aeul tenir la campagne,
Un aoir, tout conune aujourd-
•hui,
J'entends frapper a la porte ;
J'ouvre, bon Dieu! o'etait
itri!
Suivi d'nne faible eaeorte.
II s'aaseoit oii me voila,
S'ecriant : ' Oh, quelle guerre !
Oh, quelle guerre !' " —
II s'est asais la, grand'mere !
II s'eat aasis la !
" * J'ai faim,' dit-il ; et bien vite
Je aers piquette et pain bia.
Puia il aeche ees habits ;
Heme a dormir le feu I'invite.
Au r^veU, yoyant mea pleura,
H me dit : " Bonne eap&ance !
Je cours de toua aes malheura
Sous Paris venger la France 1
"A year roUed on, when next at
Paria I,
Lone woman that I am,
Saw him pasa by,
CHrt with his peers, to kneel at IKTotre
Dame.
I knew by merry chime and signal gun,
God granted him a son,
And O ! I wept for joy !
iFor why not weep when warrior-men
did.
Who gazed upon that sight so splen-
did.
And blest th' imperial boy ?
Never did noonday sun shme out so
bright !
O what a sight !" —
Mother ! for you that must haye been
A glorious scene !
"But when all Europe's gathered
strength
Burst' o'er the IFrench frontier at
length,
'Twill scarcely be believed
What wonders, single-handed, he
achieved.
Such general ne'er lived !
One evening on my threshold stood
A guest — 'twas he ! Of warriors
few
He had a toil-worn retinue.
He flimg himself into this chair of
wood.
Muttering, meantime, with fearAil
air,
'Quelle guerre! oh, quelle guerre f"—
Mother! and did our emperor sit there^
Upon that very chair ?
" He aaid, ' Give me some food.' —
Brown loaf I gave, and homely wine.
And made the kindling fireblocks
shine.
To dry his cloak with wet bedewed.
Soon by the bonny blaze he slept,
Then waking chid me (for I wept)/;
' Courage !' he cried, ' I'll strike for all
Under the aaored wall
Of France'a noble capital !'
250
FATHEB PEOri'S EELIQTTES.
H part ; et comme vm tresor
J'ai depuis gard^ son rerre,
Garde son verre." —
Vous I'avez enoor, grand'
mfere !
Vous I'avez encor !
" Le voiei. Mais si sa perte
Le heros fut entratue.
Inii, qu'VTS Pape a couronne,
Est mort dans un He deserte.
Long-temps aucun ne I'a cru ;
On disait : . H Ta paraitre.
Par mer il est acoouru ;
L'toanger'va voir son maltre.
Quandld'erreur on nous tira,
Ma douleur fut bien amere.
Fut bien amere.'', —
Dieu Tous bfeira, grand'mere ;
Dieu TOUS b^nira !
Those were his words : IVe treasured
up
With pride that same wme-cup ;
And for its weight in gold
It never shall be sold !" —
Mother ! on that proud reUo let us
gaze.
O keep that cup always I
" But, through some fatal witchery,
He, whom A Pope had crowned and
blest,
Perished, my sons ! by foulest treach-
ery:
Cast on an isle far in the lonely
• West. ,
Long time sad rumours were afloat —
The fSital tidings we would spurn,
StiU hoping from that isle i;emote
Once more our hero wolild return.
But when the dirt- announcement
drew
Tears from the virtuous and the
brave — ' .
When the sad Trffisperprovedtoo true,
■ - A flood of grief I to his memory
gave.- . .
Peace to the glorious dead !" —
Mother ! may God his ftQlest blessing
shed
Upon your aged head !
Such songs embalm tlie glories of a cbaquei^or in. tj^fe liearts
of the people, and will do, more to endjear. the .memory of
Napoleon to posterity than all the eiForts of the- historian.
The government of the imbecile Charles X. had the foUy to
pick a personal quarrel with tljis powerful master of the lyre,
and to provoke the -wrath of genius, which no one yet aroused
and got off unscathed by its lightning. B^ranger was prose-
cuted before the eour d'assizes for a song ! And nothing,
perhaps, contributed more to the catastrophe that soon over-
took the persecutor of the Muses than the disgrace and ridi-
cule which covered the royal faction, in consequence of this
attack on the freedom of that freest of aU trades, the craft
of the troubadour. The prophecy contained in the ode was
realised to the letter : even the aUusion to that old GaUie
"J'ai gard-e son. ver
THE SONGS OE rEANOE.
251
emWem the cock, wHch Louis Philippe made the ornament ol
the restored tricolor, confirms the fact of inspiration.
lit hit\x^ iBrapeau.
Ci)« Clirtt^Colouwll jFlag.
Beranger.
{A proseculed Song.)
De mes vievii oompaguons de
gloire
Je viens de me voir entour^ ;
Nos Bouvenirs m'out eniTre,
Le via m'a rendu la m^moire.
Fier de mes exploits et des
leurs,
J'ai mon drapeau dans ma chau-
miere — .
Quand secourai-je la poussiere
Qui ternit ses nobles couleurs 1
H est cache sous ThumWe paiUe
Oil je dors, pauvre et mutile,
Lui qui, sur de vaincre, a vole
Vingt ans de bataiUe en bataille ;
Chargfe de lauriers et de fleurs,
II brilla sur I'Europe entifere —
Quand secourai-je la poussiere
Qui ternit ses nobles couleurs !
Ce drapeau payait a la France
Tout le sang qu'il nous a co4t^ ;
Sur la sein de la liberte
Nos fils jouaient aveo sa lance ;
Qu'il prouye encor aui oppres-
seurs
Combien la gloire est roturiere —
Quand secourai-je Id poussiere
Qui ternit ses nobles couleurs I
Comrades, around this humble board.
Here's to our banner's by-gone
splendour.
There may be treason in that word —
AH Europe may the proof afford —
All France be the offender ;
But drink the toast
That gladdens most,
Fires the young heart and cheers the
old—
" May France once more
Her tri-color
Blest with new life behold !"
List to my secret. That old flag
Under my bed of straw is hidden.
Sacred to glory ! War-worn rag !
Thee no informer thence shall drag,
Nor dastard spy say 'tis forbidden.
France, I can Touch,
WiU, from its couch,
The dormant symbol yet unfold,
And wave once more
Her tri-color
Through Europe, uncontrolled !
For every drop of blood we spent,
Did not that flag give value plenty ?
Were not our children as they went,
Jopund, to join the Warrior's tent.
Soldiers at ten, heroes at twenty ?
Feaitcb ! who were then
Tour noblemen ?
Not they of parchment-must and
mould !
But they who bore
Your tri-color .
Through Europe, uncontrolled !
252
FATHEB PEOTTT'S EELIQITBS.
Son atgle est rest^ dans lapoudre,
Fatigufe de lointains exploits ;
Eendons-lui le cog des G-aulois,
n S9ut aussi lancer la foudre.
La France, oubliant ses dou-
leurs,
Le reb^uira libre et fi^re —
Quand secourai-je la poussiere
Qui temit aes nobles couleurs !
Las d'errer arec la victoire,
Des LOIS a deviendra I'appiu ;
Chaque soldat fut, grace a lui,
CiTOTEN aux bords de la Loire.
Seul il pent voEer noa mal-
heurs,
Deployons-le sur la frontiere —
Quand secourai-je la pousii^re
Qui temit ses nobles couleurs !
Mais il est la pr4s de mes amaes !
Vn instant osons I'eutrevoir ;
Viens, men drapeau! yiens,
mon espoir I
Cest a toi d'essuyer mes larmes !
D'un guerrier qui yerse des
pleurs
Le Ciel entendra la pri4re —
Qui, Je secouerai la poussiire
Qui temit ses nobles couleurs !
Leipsic hath seen onr eagle fall,
Drunk with renown, worn out with
glory;
But, with the emblem of old Gtaul
Crowning our standard, we'U recall
The brightest days olValmy's stoiy!
With terror pale
Shall despots quail.
When in their ear the tale is told,
0/ France once more
Her tri-color
Preparing to unfold!
Trust not the lawless ruffian chiel,
Worse than the yilest monarch he !
Down with the dungeon and Bastille t
But let our country never kneel
To that grim idol. Anarchy !
Strength shall appear
On our frontier —
Prance shall be Liberty's strong-
hold !
Then earth once more
The tri-color
With blessings shall behold !
O my old flag ! that liest hid.
There where my sword and musket
lie —
Banner, come forth ! for tears unhid
Are fiUing fast a warrior's lid,
Which thou alone canst dry.
A soldier's grief
Shall find relief;
Aveteran's heart shallbe consoled —
France shall once more
Her tri-color
Triumphantly unfold I
After this glorious dithyramb, worthy of the days when
the chivalry of Prance took solemnly the oriflame from the
Abbey of St. Denis, to bear it foremost in the fight, for the
defence of their native land, or the conquest of the land of
Palestine ; it may be gratifying to produce a specimen of
the earlier military songs of that gallant country. I select
for that purpose a very striking lyric effusion from the pen
of old Mar6t, which is particularly deserving of attention,
from its marked coincidence in thought and expression with
'j."HE (iojsrwB oj!' jbaitcb. 253
the celebrated Marseillaise Hymn, composed at the distance
of three centuries ; but it would be hard to say which pro.
duced on the wooden-shoed men of France the greater im-
pression in its day.
f[u JBuc K'aicncon,
Commandant I'Avant Garde de I'Arm^e Framfaise, 1521.
Di vers HainEiult, sur les fins de champagne,
Est arrive le bon Duo d'Alen^on,
Aveque honneur qui toujours raccompagne
Comme le sien propre et vrai ecusson :
Lk peut on veoir sur la grand3 plaine unie
Do bona soudars son enseigue munie,
Pres d' employer leurs bras fulminatoire,
A repousser dedans leurs territoire
L'ours Hauvier, gent, rustique, et brutalle,
Voulant marcher sans raison peremptoire
Sur les climats de France occidentale.
Prenez hault coeur, donques, Prance et Bretagne !
Car si en ce camp tenez fiere fa^on,
Pondre verrez deyant vous TAJllemagne,
Comme au soleil blanche niege et gla^ou ;
PiflFres ! tambours ! sonnez en harmonie ;
Ayeuturiers ! que la pique on manie
Pour les chequer et mettre en accessoire.
Car deja sont au royal possessoire :
Mais comme je cro;s destinee fatalle
Veult ruiner leur outrageuse gloire
Sur les climats de Prance occidentale.
'. Donques pietons marchans sur la campagne,
Foudroyez tout sans rien prendre a ranijon ;
Preux oheTaliera, puisqu'honueur on y gague,
Vos ennemies poussez hors de Tarpon,
Paites rougir du sang de Q-ermanie
Les clairs ruTsseaux dont la terre est gamie ;
Si seront mis tos hauts noms en histoire :
Prappez done tous de main gladiatoire,
Qu'aprfes leur mort et deffaicte totaJle
Vous rapportiez la palme de victoire
Sur les climats de Prance occidentale.
Prince ! rempU de haut los meritoire,
Faisons les tous, si Toua me voulez croire,
Aller humer leur cervoise et godalle ; — (yoorf aM f)
Car de nos vins ont grand desir de boire
Sur les climats de France occidentale.
254 TATHEE PKOITT'S EELIQUES.
^BUrtStf to fijt 'Fanguatlf of ti)e jFwnfS
Under the Duke d'Alenfon, 1521.
CLEMENT MABOT.
Soldiers ! at length their gathered strength our might is doomed to
feel-
Spain and Brabant comiUtant — ^Bavaria and Castile.
Idiots, they think chat !France wUl shrink from a foe that rushes on,
And terror damp the gallant camp of the bold Duke d'Alenfon I
But wail and wo betide the foe that waits for our assault !
Back to his lair our pikes shall scare the wild boar of Hainault.
La Meuse shall flood her banks with blood, ere the sons of Prance resign
Their glorious fields — the land that yields the oHve and the vine !
Then draw the blade ! be our ranks arrayed to the sound of the martial
fife;
In the foeman's ear let the trumpeter blow a blast of deadly strife j
And let each knight collect his might, as if there hung this day
The fate of France on his single lance in the hour of the coming fray :
As melts the snow in summer's glow, so may our helmets' glare
Consume their host ; so folly's boa^t vanish in empty air.
Pools ! to beheve the sword could give to the children of the Bhine
Our Gallic fields — the land that yields the olive and the vine !
Can Germans face our Norman race in the conflict's awful shock —
Brave the war-cry of " BuiTAirtfY !" the shout of " Languedoo !"
Dare they confront the battle's brunt — the fell encounter try
When dread Bayard leads on his guard of stout gendarmerie ?
Strength be the test — then breast to breast, ay, grapple man with man ;
Strength in the ranks, strength on both flanks, and valour in the van.
Let war efface each softer grace ; on stem Bellona's shrine
We vow to shield the plains that yield the olive and the vine !
Methinks I see bright Victory, in robe of glory drest,
Joyful appear on the Prench frontier to the chieftain she loves best j
While grim Defeat, in contrast meet, scowls o'er the foeman's tent,
She on our duke smiles down with look of blythe encouragement.
E'en now, I ween, our foes have seen their hopes of conquest fail ;
Glad to regain their homes again, and quaff their Saxon ale.
So may it be while chivalry and loyal hearts combine
To lift a brand for the bonnie land of the oUve and the vine !
And now let us give truce to war, and, turning to calmer
Bubjecta, smoke for awhile the calumet of peace with a poet
of gentler disposition. Poor Millevoye ! it is with a me-
lancholy pleasure that agaia I turn to his pure and pathetlo
page ; but he was a favourite of the Muae, and, need I add.
THE SONGS 01" rEAJ<rOE.
255
of mine ? "WTio can peruse this simple melody without feel-
ing deeply interested in the fate of its author ?
Ea Ci^utt tiei :ftu\tttS.
Par Milkvoye,
De la depoiiiUe de noa boia
li'automne avait jonche la terre,
XiQ bocage etait sans mystfere,
-Le rossignol etait sans voix.
Triste et mourant a son aurore,
Un jeune malade, h, pas lents,
Paroourait une fois encore
le bois cber k ses premiers ans.
"Bois que j'aime, adieu! je suc-
combe —
Ton deuil m'avertit de mon
sort;
Et dans chaque feuiUe qui tembe
Je vois un presage de mort.
Fatal oracle d'Epidaure,
Turn' as dit, ' Les feuilles des bois
A tea yeux jauniront encore,
Mais c'estpour la derniere fois!"
L'eternel cypres se balance ;
Deja sur ma t^te en sUence
II incline ses rameaux :
Ma jeunesse sera fletrie
Avant I'herbe de la prairie,
Avant le pampre des edteaux !
Et je meurs ! de leur froide haleine
M'out touche les sombres au-
tans,
Et j'ai TU comme une ombre vaine
S'^vanouir mon beau printems.
Tombe ! tombe, feuiUe ephemere !
Couvre, helas ! ce triste chemiu !
Cache au desespoir de ma mfere
La place oil je serai demain !
CtiJ dfall of ti)c V.tabtS.
Autumn had stript the grove, and
strew'd
The Tale with leafy carpet o'er —
Shorn of its mystery the wood,
AndPhilomel bade sing no more —
Tet one still hither comes to feed
His gaze on childhood's merry
path ; '
Eor him, sict youth ! poor invalid !
Lonely attraction stiE it hath,
"I come to bid you farewell brief,
Here, O my infancy's wild haunt!
Eor death gives ia each faUing leaf
Sad summons to your visitant.
'Twas a stern oracle that told
My dark decree, ' I'he woodland
bloom
Once more ^tis given thee to behold.
Then comes tK inexorable tomb .'"
Th' eternal cypress, balancing
Its tall form hte some funertd thing
In silence o'er my head.
Tells me my youth shall wither fast,
Ere the grass fades — yea, ere the last
Stalk from the vine is shed.
I die ! Yes, vrith his icy breath,
Eixed Pate has frozen up my
blood ;
Aud by the ohiUy blast of Death
Nipt is my life's spring in the bud.
Pall ! faU, O transitory leaf!
And cover well this path of sorrow ;
Hide from my mother's searching
grief
The spot where I'll be laid to-
256 EATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQUES.
Mais si mon amante voilee But should my loved one's feiiy
Vient dans la solitaire allee, tread
Pleurer a I'heure ou le jour fiiit ; Seek the sad dwelling of the dead,
EveiUe, par un leger bruit, Silent, alone, at eve ;
Hon ombre un instant consolee !" O then with rustling murmur meet
The echo of her coming feet.
And sign of welcome give !"
II dit. S'eloigne et sans retour ; Such was the sick youth's last sad
La demiere f'euille qui tombe thought ;
A signal^ sou dernier jour; Then slowly &om the grove he
Sous le ch^ue on creusa sa moved j
tombe. Next moon that way a corpse was
Mais son amante ne vint pas j — brought,
Et la ptltre de la valine And buried in the bower he loved.
Troubla seul du bruit de ses pas But at his grave no form appeared,
Le silence du mausolee. No fairy mourner : through the
wood
The shepherd's tread alone was heard,
Li the sepulchral solitude.
Attuned to the sad harmony of that closing stanza, and
set to the same key-note of impassioned sorrow, are the
following lines of Chateaubriand, which 1 believe have never
appeared in print, at least in this country. They were com-
posed on the occasion of a young and beautiful girl's pre-
mature death, the day her remains were, with the usual
ceremony of placing a wreath of white roses on the bier,
consigned to the earth.
€I)at(aubrtaitt(.
Sur la Filh de mon Ami, enterree liier devant moi an Cimetiire de Pastj/,
16 Juin, 1832.
H descend oe eercueil ! et les roses sans taches
Qu'un p&re y deposa, tribut de sa douleur :
Terre ! tu les portas ! et maiuteuant tu caches
Jeune fille et jeunj fleur !
Ah ! ne les rends jamais a ce monde prophane,
A oe monde de deuil, d'angoisse, et de malheui'!
Le vent brise et fletrit, le soleil brAle et fane
Jeune fiUe et jeune fleur!
Tu dors, pauvre EUsa, si legSre d'ann&s !
Tu ne Grains plus du jour le poids et la chaleiir |
Biles ont acheve leurs iraiches matinees,
Jeune fille et jeune fleur !
THE SONGS OF I'EANCE. 257
Ere that oofim goes down, let it bear on its lid
The garland of roses
Which the hand of a father, her mournerB amid,
In silence deposes —
'Tis the young maiden's funeral hour !
From thy bosom, O earth ! sprung that yoimg budding rose
And 'tis meet that together thy lap should enclose
The young maid and the flower!
Nerer, never give back the two symbols so pure
Which to thee we confide ;
From the bireath of this world and its plague-spot secure,
Let them sleep side by side —
They shall know not its pestilent power !
Soon the breath of contagion, the deadly mildew.
Or the fierce scorching sun, might parch up as they grew
The young maid and the flower !
Poor Ehza ! for thee life's enjoyments have fled,
But its pangs too are flown !
Then go sleep in the grave ! in that cold bridal bed
Death may call thee his own —
Take this handful of clay for thy dower !
Of a texture wert thou far top gentle to last ;
'Twas a morning thy life ! now the matins are past
Por the maid and the flower !
No. IX.
THE SONGS or FEANCE.
Oir -WXKE, -WAE, WOMBIT, -WOODEir SHOES, PHIIOSOPHX,
IKGGS AND FEBE TEADE.
•fftom t^e 33fout J^aptis.
OhAPTEE III. — PHIiOSOPHr.
"Quando GaUus cantat, Petrus flet." — Sixtus V. Pont. Max.
•*Si de noB coqs la vois altiere "If old St. Peter on his rock
Troubla I'heritier de St. Pierre, Weptwhen he heard the Gallic cock,
GtAce aux annates anjourd'hui. Has not the good French hen (God
Nos poules vont pondre pour lui." bless her !)
Beeangbb. laid many aa egg for his succes-
sor?"
Beeoee we plunge with Prout into the depths of Prench
Philosophy, we must pluck a crow with the " Sun." Not
258 FATHEE PHOUT'S EELIQrES.
often does it occur to us to notice a newspaper criticism ;
nor, indeed, in this case, should we condescend to was
angry at the discharge of the penny-a-liner's popgun, were
it not that an imputation has been cast on the good father's
memory, which cannot be overlooked, and must be wiped
away. The caitiff who writes in the " Sun" has, at the ia-
stigation of Satan, thrown out a hint that these songs, and
specifically his brUliant translation of " Malbrouck," were
written "under vinous inspiration!" A false and atrocious
libel. Great mental powers and superior cleverness are too
often supposed to derive assistance from the bottle. Thus
the virtue of the elder Cato {prisd Catonis) is most unjus-
tifiably ascribed to potations by unreflecting Horace ; and
a profane Trench sophist has attributed Noah's escape from
the flood to similar partiality :
" Noe le patriarche, " To have drown'd an old cliap,
Si celihii par I'arche, Such a friend to 'the tap,'
Aim a fort le jus du tonneau ; The flood would have felt compuno-
Puisqu'il planta la vigne, tion :
Conrenez qu'^tait digne Noah owed his escape
De ne point se noyer dans I'eau!" To his love for the grape ;
And his 'ark' was an empty pun-
cheon."
The illustrious Queen Anne, who, like our own EEaiifA,
encouraged literature and patronised wit, was thus calum-
niated after death, when her statue was put up where it
now stands, with its back to Paul's church and its face
turned towards that celebrated corner of the churchyard
which in those days was a brandy-shop. Nay, was not our
late dignified Lord Chancellor equaUy lampooned, without
the slightest colour of a pretext, excepting, perhaps, " be-
cause his nose is red." Good reason has he to curse his evil
genius, and to exclaim with Ovid —
" Ingenio peril Naso poeta meo !"
"We were prepared, by our previous knowledge of history,
for this outbreak of calumny in Prout's case ; we knew, by
a reference to the biography of Christopher Columbus, of
Galileo, and of Dr. Faustus (the great inventor of the art
of printing), that his iutellectual superiority would raise up
a host of adversaries prepared to malign hiin, nay, if neees-
THE SONGS OF FBANCE. 259
Bary, to accuse him of witchcraft. The writer in the " San"
has not jret gone quite so far, contenting himself for the
present with the assertion, that the father penned " these
Songs of Prance " to the sound of a gurgling flagon —
"Aui doux gloux gloux que fait la bouteille."
The idea is not new. When Demosthenes shaved his head,
and spent the winter in a cellar transcribing the works of
Thucydides, 'twas said of him, on his emerging into the
light of the ^nita,, that " his speeches smelt of oil." It
was stated of that locomotive knight, Sir Eichard Black-
more, whose epic poem on King Arthur is now (like Boh
Montgomery's " Omnipresence ") present nowhere, that he
" Wrote to the rumbling of his coach-wheels."
In allusion to Byron's lameness, it was hinted by some
ZoUus that he penned not a few of his verses slans pede in
uno. Even a man's genealogy is not safe from innuendo
and inference ; for Sam Rogers having discovered, from
Stranger's song, " Le TaUleur et la I'^e," that his father
was a tailor, pronounced his parentage and early impressions
to be the cause why he was such a capital hand at a hem-
a-stich. If a similar analogy can hold good in Tom Moore's
case (whose juvenile associations were of a grocer sort), it
will no doubt become obvious why Ms compositions are so
"highly spiced," his taste so "liquorish," and his muse so
prodigal of " sugar-candy."
But is it come to this ? must we needs, at this time of
vday, vindicate the holy man's character ? and are we driven
to take up the cudgels for his sobriety ? — ^he, whose frugal life
was proverbial, and whose zeal, backed by personal example,
was all-powerful to win his parishioners from the seduction
of barleycorn, and reduce them to a habit of temperance,
ad bonam frugem reducere ! He, of whom it might be pre-
dicated, that while a good conscience was the juge convivium
of his mind, his corporeal banquet was a perpetual red-
herring ! Water-cresses, so abundant on that bleak hill,
were his only luxury; for he belonged to that class of
Pythagorean philosophers of whom Virgil speaks, in his
description of the plague :
" If on illis epulae nocufire repostso ;
IVondibus et victu pascuntur simplicis herbsD." — Georg. III.
260 TATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQUES.
Cicero fcells us, in his Tusculan Questions (what he might
have read in Xenophon), that water-cresses were a favourite
diet iu Persia. His words are : " Persse nihil ad panem
adhibebant praster nasturtium." (Tusc. QusBst. v. 140).
I only make this remark, en passant, as, in comparing Ire-
land with what Tom calls
" that delightful prOTince of the sun,
The land his orient beam first shines upon,"
it would seem that "round towers" and water-cresses are
distinctive characteristics of both countries ; a matter Some-
what singular, since the taste for water-grass is by no means
goneraUy diflFused among European nations. Pliny, indeed
(Hb. xix. cap. 8), goes so far as to state, that this herb
creates an unpleasant titUlation in the nose : " Nasturtium
nomen accepit i narium tormeuto." But Spenser says of
the native Irish, that " wherever they found a plot of sham-
rocks or water-cresses, there they flocked as to a feast." —
State of Ireland, a.d. 1580.
When we assert that Prout was thus a model of abste-
miousness, we by no means intend to convey the notion
that he was inhospitable. Is not his Carousal on record
in the pages of Eboina ? and will it not be remembered
when the feast of O'Eourke is forgotten ? If a friend
chanced to drop into his hut on a frosty night, he felt no
more scruple in cracking with his guest a few bottles of
Medoc, than George Knapp, the redoubtable Mayor of
Cork, in demolishing, with his municipal club, a mad-dog's
pericranium. Nor were his brother-clergy in that diocese
less remarkable for well-ordered conviviality. Horace, in
his trip to Brundusium, says, that parish-priests are only
bound (on account of their poverty) to supply a stranger
with a fire-side of bog-wood, and potatoes and salt —
" Suppeditant parochi quod debent ligna salemgue ;"
whereas he foolishly itnagines that nothing can surpass a
bishop's hospitality —
" Pontiflcum potiore coenis."
"Were the poet now-a-days (a.d. 1830) to make a trip to
Cork, he would find matters managed vice vend.
THE SONfiS OF FEAIfCE. 261
From a& we have said on this subject, and still more from
what we could add, if inclined to be wrathful, Prout's calum-
niators may learn a lesson of forbearance and decorum. His
paths are the paths of pleasantness and peace. But we are
determined to protect him from assault. Far be it from us
to throw an apple of discord ; but Prout is the apple of our
eye. Let the man in " the Sun" read how Daniel O'Eourke
fell from " the moon ;" let him recoUect the Dutch ambassa*
dor's remark when the grand monarque shewed him his own
royal face painted in the disc of an emblematic " Sol :" " Je
vois avec plaisir voire majesty dans le plus ffrandDus astees."
OLIVEE TOEKE.
Sec. 1st, 1834.
WatergrasshiU, Dec. 1833.
The historian of Charles the Eifth, in that chapter wherein
he discourseth of the children of Loyola, takes the oppor-
tunity of manifesting his astonishment that so learned a body
of men should never have produced, among crowds of poets,
critics, divines, metaphysicians, orators, and astronomers,
" one single philosopher .'" The remark is not original. The
ingenious maggot was first generated in the brain of D'Alem-
beit, himself an undeniable "philosopher." Every one, I
imagine, knows what guess-sort of wiseacre France gave
birth to in the person of that algebraic personage. I say
France in general, a wholesale term, as none ever knew who
his parents were in detail, he, like myself, having graduated
in a foundling hospital. In the noble seminary des Enfans
TrouvSs, (that metropolitan magazine for anonymous contri-
butions,) the future geometer was only known by the name
of " Jean le Eond," which he exchanged in after-life for
the more sonorous title of D'Alembert : not rendering him-
self thereby a whit more capable of finding the quadrature
of the circle. To be sure, in the fancy for a high-sounding
name he only imitated his illustrious fellow -labourer in the
vineyard, Fran9ois Arouet, whom mortals have learnt to call
" Voltaire " by his ovm particular desire. Now Eobertson,
of the Kirk of Scotland, ought to have known, when he
adopted, second-hand, this absurdity, that by philosopher
the French infidel meant any thing but a well-regulated,
262 FATHEE PEOITt'S EELIQTJES.
sound, and sagacious mind, reposing in calm grandeur on
the rock of Eevelation, and looking on with scornful pity
while modern sophists go through all the drunken capers of
emancipated scepticism. Does the historian, grave and
thoughtful as he is, mean to countenance such vagaries of
human reason ? does he deem the wild mazes of the philo-
sophic dance, in which Hobbes, Spinoza, Bolingbroke, David
Hume, and Monboddo, join with Diderot, Helvetius, and
the D'Holbac revellers, worthy of applause and imitation ?
" Saltautes eatyros imitabitur Alphesiboeus ?"
If such be the blissful vision of his philosophy, then, indeed,
may we exclaim, with the poet of Eton CoUege, " 'Tis folly
to be wise !" But if to possess an unrivalled knowledge of
human nature — ^if to ken vnth intuitive glance all the
secrets of men's hearts — if to control the passions — if to
gain ascendancy by sheer intellect over mankind — if to
civilise the savage — if to furnish zealous and intelligent
missionaries to the Indian and American hemisphere, as
well as professors to the Universities of Europe, and " con-
fessors" to the court of kings, — ^be characteristics of ge-
nuine philosophy and mental greatness, allow me to put in a
claim for the Society that is no more ; the downfal of which
was the signal for every evU bird of bad omen to flit abroad
and pollute the world —
" Obsooenique canes, importunceque volueres."
And still, though it may sound strange to modern democrats,
the first treatise on the grand dogma of the sovereignty of
the people was written and published in Spain by a Jesuit,
Jt was Father Mariana who first, in his book " De Institu-
tione Eegis," taught the doctrine, that kings are but trustees
for the benefit of the nation, freely developing what was
timidly hinted at by Thomas Aquinas. Bayle, whom the
professor will admit to the full honours of a philosophic chair
of pestilence,* acknowledges, in sundry passages, the supe-
rior sagacity of those pious men, under whom, by the way,
he himself studied at Toulouse ; and if, by accumulating
• " Cathedra pestilentia" is the Vulgate translation of what the au-
thorised Churoh-version calls the " seat of the scornful," Fsalm i. 1.
— O. Y.
THE SONGS or FEANCE. 263
doubts and darkness on the truths of Clinstianity, he has
merited to be called the cloud-compelling Jupiter among
philosophers, viipskriyigiTa, Zixjg, surely some particle of philo-
sophic praise, equivocal as it is, might be reserved for those
able masters who stimulated his early inquiries, — excited
and. fed his young appetite for erudition. But they sent
forth from their schools, in Descartes, in Torricelli, and in
Bossuet, much sounder specimens of reasoning and wisdom.
I hesitate not to aver, as a general proposition, that the
French chq,racter is essentially unphilosophical. Of the
Greeks it has been said, what I would rather apply to our
merry neighbours, that they were " a nation of children,"
possessing all the frolicsome wildness, aU the playful attrac-
tiveness of that pleasant epoch in Hfe ; but deficient in the
graver faculties of dispassionate reflection : ''EXKring am
imihig, yiguv be 'EXXjii/ ovbiii. — (Plato, " Timseus:") In the
reign of Louis XIV., Pfere Bouhours gravely discusses, in his
" CouTs de Belles Lettres," the question, " whether a native
of Germany can possess wit ?" The phlegmatic dwellers on
the Danube might retort by proposing as a problem to the
TTniversity of Gr6ttinge;n, "An datur phUosophus inter
GaUos ?" Certain it is, and I know them well, that the
calibre of their mind is better adapted to receive and dis-
charge " small shot" than " heavy metal." That they are
more calculated to shine in the imaginative, the ornamental,
the refined and deHcate departments of literature, than in the
sober, sedate, and profound pursuits of philosophy ; and it
is not without reason that history tells of their ancestors,
when on the point of taking the capitol, that they were
foiled and discomfited by the solemn steadiness of a goose.
Cicero had a great contempt for the guidance of Greek
philosophers in matters appertaining to religion, thinking,
with reason, that there was in the Roman gravity a more
fitting disposition of mind for such important inquiries:
" Ciim de religione agitur, Titum Coruncanium aut Publium
Scsevolam, pontifices maximos, non Zenonem, aut Cleanthum,
aut Chrysippum sequor." (Be Natura Dear.) The terms
of insulting depreciation, Grteculus and Grtecia mendax, are
familiar to the readers of the Latin classics ; and from
Aristophanes we can learn, ih&t frogs, a talkative, saltatory,
and unsubstantial noun of multitude, was then applied to
264 I'ATHEE PEOUt's EEIIQUES.
Greeks, as now-a-days to Prenchmen. But of this more
anon, when I come to treat of " frogs and free-trade." I
am now on the chapter of philosophy.
Vague generalities, and sweeping assertions relative to
national character, are too much the fashion with writers of
the Puckler Mustaw and Lady Morgan school : wherefore
I select at once an individual illustration of my theory con-
cerning the Prench ; and I hope I shall not be accused of
dealing unfairly towards them when I put forward as a
sample the Comte de Buffon. Of all the eloquent prose
writers of France, none has surpassed in graceful an.d har-
monious diction the great naturalist of Burgundy. His
work combines two qualities rarely found in conjunction on
the same happy page, viz., accurate technical information
and polished elegance of style ; indeed his maxim was " Le
style c'est I'komme :" but when he goes beyond his depth —
when, tired of exquisite delineations and graphic depictur-
ings, he forsakes the " swan," the " Arabian horse," the
" beaver," and the " ostrich," for " Sanconiathon, Berosus,
and the cosmogony of the world," what a melancholy exhi-
bition does he make of ingenious dotage ! Having prede-
termined not to leave Moses a leg to stand on, he sweeps
away at one stroke of his pen the foundations of Grenesis,
and reconstructs their terraqueous planet on a new patent
principle. I have been ab some pains to acquire a compre-
hensive notion of his system, and, aided by an old Jesuit, I
have succeeding in condensing the voluminous dissertation,
into a few lines, for the use of those who are dissatisfied
with the Mosaic statement, including Dr. Buckland :
1. in the beginning was the sun, from which a splinter
was shot off by chance, and that fragment was our globe.
2. Snti the globe had for its nucleus melted glass, with
an envelope of hot water.
3. SnB it began to twirl round, and became somewhat
flattened at the poles.
4. j^otu, when the water grew cool, insects began to ap-
pear, and shell-fish.
5. ^nlJ from the accumulation of shells, particularly
oysters (torn, i., 4to. edit. p. 14), the earth was gradually
THE SOKGS OF rEANCE. 265
formed, witli ridges of mountains, on the principle of the
Monte Testacio at the gate of Rome.
6. 33ut the melted glass, kept warm for a long time, and
the arctic climate was as hot in those days as the tropics
now are : witness a frozen rhinoceros found in Siberia, &e.
&c. &c.
To aU. which discoveries no one wiU be so illiberal as to
refuse the appropriate acclamation of " Very fine oysters !"*
As I have thus furnished here a compendious substitute
for the obsolete book of Genesis, I think it right also to
supply a few notions on astronomy ; wherefore 1 subjoin a
IVench song on one of the most interesting phenomena of
the solar system, in which effusion of some anonymous poet
there is about as much wisdom as in Buffon's cosmogony.
%a Ci&torif nti i£clip;S{si. <©n ^olat iEclipScS.
(a new theoet.)
{Jupiter loquitur.) For the use qfthe London University.
Je jure le Styx qui toumoie AllheaTeii,IswearbyStyxthatroIls
Dans le pays de Tartara, Its dark flood round the land of
Qu'i"Colm-niaiIlard" on jouera souls!
Or sus ! tirez au sort, qu'on Toie Shall play this day at " Blind
Lequel d'entre vous le sera. man's buff."
Come, make arrangements on the
spot ;
Prepare the 'kerchief, draw the lot —
So JoTe commands ! Enough !
le bon SoleU I'avait bien dit — LotfeUonSoi: thestarswerestruek
Xe sort lui echut en partage : At such an instance of ill luck.
Chaoun rit ; et suiyant I'usage, Then Luna forward came,
Aussit6t la Lune s'offrit And bound with gentle, modest
Pour lui Toiler son beau visage. hand,
O'er his bright brow the muslia
band :
Hence mortals learned the game.
It would be scandalous indeed, if the palm of absurdity,
the bronze medal of impudence in philosophic discovery,
were to be awarded to Buffon, when Voltaire stands a can-
didate in the same field of speculation. This great man,
discoursing on a similar subject, in his profound " Questions
* Prout felt that dislike of geological induction common to old-
fiwhioned churchmen — O.T.
266 FATHEB PEOUT'S EELIQTJES.
Encyclop^diques," laboura to remove the vulgar presumption
in favour of a general deluge, derived from certain marine
remains and conchylia found on the Alps and Pyrenees.
He does not hesitate to trace these shells to the frequency
of pilgrims returning with scoUops on their hats from St.
Jago di Compostello across the mountains. Here are his
words, q. e. (art. Coquil.) : " Si nous faisons reflexion &, la
foule innombrable de pfl^rins qui partent k pied de St.
Jaques en G-alice, et de toutes les provinces, pour aller h.
Eome par le Mont C^nis, charges de coquilles d leurs bon-
nets," &c. &c. — a deep and original explanation of a very
puzzling geological problem.
But let the patriarch of Perney hide his diminished head
before a late YrensAi. philosophic writer, citoyen Dupuis, author
of that sublime work, "De I'Origine des Cultes." This
performance is a manual of deism, and deservedly has been
commemorated by a poet from Gascony ; who concludes his
complimentary stanzas to the author by telling him that he
has at last drawn up Truth from the bottom of the well to
which the ancients had consigned her :
Vous avez bien merite Truth in a well was said to dwell,
De la patrie, Sire Dupuis : From whence no art could pluck it ;
Vous avez tir^ la verite But now 'tis known, raised by the loan
Du puita ! Of thy philosophic bucket.
Citizen Dupuis has imagined a simple method of explain-
ing the rise and origin of Christianity, which he clearly
shews to have been nothing at its commencement but an " as-
tronomical allegory :" Christ standing for the Sun, the
twelve apostles representing the twelve signs of the Zodiac,
Peter standing for " Aquarius," and Didymus for one of
"the twins," &c. ; just with as much ease as a future histo-
rian of these countries may convert our grand "Whig cabinet
into an allegorical fable, putting Lord Althorp for the sign
of Taurus, Palmerston for the Goat, Ellice for Ursa Major,
and finding in Stanley an undeniable emblem of Scorpio*
Volney, in his " Euines," seems to emulate the bold theo-
ries of Dupuis ; and the conclusion at which all arrive, by
the devious and labyrinthine paths they severally tread, —
whether, with Lamettrie, they adopt plain materialism ; or,
* " Bear Ellice" and " Scorpion Stanley" were hous^old words in
1830, as well as Lord Althorpe's bucolic and Palmerstou's erotic famei
"Tb.e HlghLt before LarrT vj-as stxetclied."
^^y. 26r.
THE SONGS OF TEAITOE.
267
■with Condillac, hint at the possibility of matter being capa-
ble of thought 1 or, with Diderot, find no diiference between
man and a dog but the clothes ("Vie de S^n^que") — is,
emancipation from all moral tie, and contempt for all exist-
ing institutions. Their disciples fill the galleys in France,
and cause our own Botany Bay to present all the agree-
able varieties of a philosophical hortus siccus. But Ireland
has produced a grander specimen of philosophy, exemplified
in the calm composure, dignified tranquillity, and instructive
self-possession, with which death may be encountered after
a life of usefulness. For the benefit of the French, I have
taken some pains to initiate them, through the medium of a
translation, into the workings of an Irish mind unfettered
by conscientious scruples on the tl^reshold of eternity.
C^e 3@,eatJ) of giocratrS.
By the Rev. So6t, Burrowes, Dean of
St. FihSar's Cat/iedral, Cork.
The night before Larry was stretched.
The boys they all. paid him a visit ;
A bit in their sacks, too, they fetched —
They sweated their duds till they.
liz it ; .
For Larry was always th^ lad,
Wheil a friend was condemned to
tie squeezer,
But he'd pawn all the togs that he had,
Just to help the poor boy to a
sneezer,
And moisten his gob 'fore he died.
"Pen my conscience, dear Larry,"
says I,
" I'm sorry to see you in trouble,
And yoiir lue's cheerful noggin run
dry,
And yourself going o£f like its bub-
ble 1"
" Hould your tongue in that matter,"
says he ;
"Per the neckcloth I don't care a
button.
And by this time to-morrow you'll see
Xour Larry will be dead as mutton ;
AH for what ? 'kase his courage
was goodi"
Ha jHort tit ^ocrate.
Par VAhhe deProut, CureduMont-
aux-Cressons, pres de Cork.
A la veille d'etre pendu,
Notr'Lajirent re^ut ,dans son
gtte, _ , ; ■ .
Honn^ur qui lui ^tait bien dA,
De nombreux amis la visite ;
Car chaquascaTait que Laurent
A son tour irendrait la pareille,
Chapeau montre, . et veste en-
Pour que I'ami put boire bou-
teille,
M faire, h. gosier sec, le saut.
" Helas, notre gar9on !" lui dis-je»
" Coinbien je regrette ton sort !
Te voilVfleur, que sur sa tlge
Moissonne la cruelle moH !"—
«Au diable," dit-il, "le roi
G-eorge !
^a me fait la valeur d'un bou-
ton ;
Devant le bouoher qui m'egorg^
Je serai comme un doui mou«
ton,
Et saurai montrer du courage I"
2G8
TATHEE PEOTTT S EELIQTJES.
The boys they came crowding in fast ;
They drew their stools close round
about him,
gii glims round his coffin they
He couldn't be well waked without
'em.
I axed if he was fit to die,
Without having duly repented ?
Says Larry, " That's all ia my eye,
And aU by the clargy invented.
To make a fat bit for themselves."
Des amis Mjh, la oohorte
Bemplissait son etroit r^duit ;
" Six ohandelles, ho ! qu'on ap-
porte,
Donnons du lustre k cette nuit !
Alors je oherchai k connaitre
S'iL s'etait dumeut repenti?
" Bah ! c'est les fourberies des
pr^tres j
Les gredins, ils en out menti,
Et leurs contes d'enfer sont
faux !"
Then the cards being called for, they
played.
Tin Larry found one of them
cheated ;
Quick he made a hard rap at hishead —
The lad being easily heated.
" So ye chates me bekase I'm iu grief !
0 ! is that, by the Holy, the rason ?
Soon I'U give you to know, you d — d
thief!
That you're cracking your jokes out
of eason.
And scuttle your nob with my
fist."
L'on demande les cartes. Au jeu
Laurent voit un larron qui
triche ;
D'honneur tout rempli, U prend
feu,
Et d un bon coup de poign
I'affiche.
" Ha, coquin ! de mon dernier
jcur
Tu croyais profiter, peut-^tre j
Tu OSes me jouer ce tour !
Prends 9a pour ta peine, vil
traitre !
Et apprends h, te bien con-
duire."
Then in came the priest with his book.
He spoke him so smooth and so
civE;
Larry tipped him a Elmainham look.
And pitched his big wig to the divil.
Then raising a httle his head.
To get a sweep drop of the bottle,
And pitiful sighing he said,
" O ! the hemp wiU. be soon round
my throttle,
And choke my poor windpipe to
death!"
Quand nous e<imes cess^ nos
^bats,
Laurent, en ce triste repaire
Pour le disposer au tr^pas,
Voitentrer Monsieur leVicaire.
Apr^s im sinistre regard,
Le front de sa maia il se frotte,
Disant tout haut, "Venez plus
tard !"
Et tout has, " Tilain' colotte !"
Puis sou verre il vida deux
fois.
So mournful these last words he spoke, Lors il park de I'^chafaud,
We all vented our tears in a shower ; Et de sa derniere cravate ;
For my part, I thought my heart Grands dieux ! que 9a ]
broke beau
To see him cut down like a flower ! De la voir mourir en Socrate !
THE SONGS OE TEANCE; 269
On his travels we watched him next Le trajet en ehantant il fit —
day, La chanson point ne fut un
O, the hangman I thought I could pseaume ;
kill him ! Mais palit un peu quand il vit
Not one word did our poor Larry say, La statue du Roy GkiiUaume —
Nor changed till he came to "King Les pendards n'aiment pas
William:" ceroi!
Och, my dear! then his colour
turned white !
When he came to the nubbling chit, Quand fut au bout de son voyage,
He was tucked up so neat and so Le gibet fut pr^t en un clin :
pretty; Mourant il touma le visage
The rambler jugged off from his feet, Vers la bonne ville de Dublin.
And he died with his face to the city. H dausa la carmagnole.
He kicked too, but that was all pride, Et mourut comme fit Mal-
For soon you might see 'twas all brouck ;
over ; Puis nous enterr&mes le dr61e
And as soon as the noose was untied, Au cimetifere de Donnybrook.
Then at darkey we waked him in Quesonamey soitenrepos!
clover.
And sent him to take a ground-
sweat.
There has been an attempt by Victor Hugo to embody
into a book the principles of Stoic philosophy, which Larry
herein, propounds to his associates ; and the French poet
has spun out into the shape of a long yarn, called " Le
dernier Jour d'un Condamnd," what my friend Dean Bur-
rowes had so ably condensed in his immortal ballad. But
I suspect that Addison's tragedy of " Cato" furnished the
original hint, in the sublime soUloquy' about suicide —
" It must be so ! Plato, thou reasonest well j"
unless we trace the matter as far back as Hamlet's conver-
sation with the grave-digger.
The care and attention with which " the boys" paid the
last funeral honours to the illustrious dead, anxious to tes-
tify their adhesion to the doctrines of the defunct philo-
sopher by a glorious " wake," remind me of the pomp and
ceremony with which the sans culottes of Paris conveyed
the carcass of Voltaire and the ashes of Jean Jacques to the
iPanth^on in 1794. The bones of the cut-throat Marat were
subsequently added to the relics therein gathered ; and an
270 FATHEE PEOOT'S EELIQUES.
inscription bitterly ironical blazed on the front of the
temple's gorgeous portico —
" Aux grands hommes la patrie reoonnaissante !"
The " Confessions" of Eousseau had stamped him a vaga-
bond ; the " Pucelle" of Voltaire, by combining an outrage .
on morals with a sneer at the most exalted instance ,of ro-
mantic patriotism on record in his own or any other country,
had eminently entitled the writer to be " waked" by the
snost ferocious ru£B.ans that ever rose from the .kennel to
trample on all the decencies of life, and riot in all the beati-
tude of democracy. But when I denounce their doings of
1793, there was a man in those days who deserved to Uve in
better times ; tho' carried away by the frenzy of the season
(for "madness ruled the hour"), he voted for the death of
Louis XVI. That man was the painter David, then a
member of the Convention ; subsequently the imperial ar-
tist, whose glorious picturings of " The Passage of the Alps
by Bonaparte," of "The Spartans at Thermopylae," and
" The Emperor in his Coronation Eobes," shed such radiance
on his native land. The Bourbons had the bad taste not
only to enforce the act of proscription in his case while he
lived, but to prohibit his dead body from being interred in
the French territory. His tomb is in Brussels ; but his
paintings form the ornament of Louvre and Luxemburg ;
whUe fortunate enough to be sung by Beranger.
Ec Condot tte iia&tU,
Peintre de I'Empereur, ex-Membre de la Convention.
AlE— " De Roland."
"NonI iion[I vous ne passerez pas 1" "Nonl nont vousnepasserezpasl"
Grie un soldat sur la frontl&re, Kedit plus bas la sentinelle. —
A ceux qui de David, h^las I " Le peintre de L^onidas
Rapportaient chez nous la pouBsi&re. Dans la liberty n'a vu qn'elle ;
" Soldat/' disent-ils dans leuT deutl, On lui dut le noble appareil
" Proscrit-on aussi sa m^moire ? Des jours de joie et d'esp^rancei
Qnoi, vous repoussez son cercueil I 0& les beaux arts k leur reretl
Et vous h^ritez de sa gloire !" F6taient le r^veil de la France."
*NonI non! vousnepasserezpasl" "NonI non! vous ne passerez pas ]"
Dlt le BOldat avec furie. — Di le soldat ; " c'est ma coosigne.**
" Soldat, ses yeux jusqu'au tr^pas " Du plus grand de tons les soldats
So sont tourn^s vers la patrie ; 11 fut le peintre le plus digue
II en soutenait la splendeur A Faspect de Taigle si fier,
Du fond d'uii exil qui I'honore : Plein d'Hom6re, et I'&me exalt^e,
C'est par lui que notre grandeuv David crut peindre Jupiter—
Sur la toile respire encore," H^las I U peignlt Fromdthdei"
THE SONGS OF rEANCE. 271
" Non I non I vons ne passerez pas 1" " Non I non ! toiib nc passerez pas I"
Dit le soldat, devenu triste. — Dit la sentinelle attendrie. —
" Le h^ros apr^s cent combats " Eh bien, retournons sur nos pas I
Succorabe, et Ton proBCrit Vartiste ! Adieu, teiTe qu'il k ch6rie 1
Chez r^tranger la mort I'atteint — Les arts ont perdu le flambean
Qu'il dut trouver sa coupe amdre I Qui fit pSlir T^clat de Home I
Anx cendres d'un g^nie ^teint, Aliens mendier un tombeau
France 1 tends les bras d'uue mire." Four les restes de ce grand homme 1"
CfiJ (BbStquUi of JBa&iK tfie Painter,
Ex-Member of the National Convention,
The pass is barred ! " I'aE back !" cries the guard ; " cross not the
Erenoh frontier !"
As with solemn tread, of the exiled dead the funeral drew near.
"Sot the sentinelle hath noticed well what no plume, no pall can hide,
That yon hearse contains the sad remains of a banished regicide !
" But pity take, for his glory's sake," said his children to the guard ;
" Let his noble art plead on his part — ^let a grave be his reward !
Ib^ance knew his name in her hour of fame, nor the aid of his pencil
scorned ;
let his passport be the memory of the triumphs he adorned !"
" That corpBO can't pass ! 'tis my duty, alas !" said the frontier sen-
tinelle.—
" But pity take, for his country's sake, and his clay do not repel
Prom its kindred earth, from the land of his birth!" cried the mourners,
in their turn.
" Oh 1 give to France the inheritance of her painter's fimeral urn :
His pencil traced, on the Alpine waste of the pathless Mont Bernard,
Napoleon's course on the snow-white horse ! — let a grave be his reward !
Por he loyed this land — ay, his dying hand to paint her fame he'd lend
her :
Let his passport be the memory of his native country's splendour !"
"Te cannot pass," said the guard, "alas! (for tears bedimmed his
Though Prance may count to pass that mount a glorious eiiterprise." —
"Then pity take, for fair Freedom's sake," cried the mourners once
again :
" Her favourite was Leonidas, with his band of Spartan men ;
Did not his art to them impart life's breath, that France might see
What a patriot few in the gap could do at old Thermopylse ?
Oft by that sight for the coming fight was the youthftil bosom fired :
Let his passport be the memory of the valour he inspired !"
" Te cannot pass." — " Soldier, alas ! a dismal boon we crave —
Say, is there not some lonely spot where his friends may dig a grave ?
Oh ! pity take, for that hero's sake whom he gloried to portray
With crown and palm at Notre Dame on his coronation-day."
272 PATHEE peottt's eeliqfes.
Amid tliat band the withered hand of an aged pontiff rose,
And blessing shed on the conqueror's head, forgiving his own woes : —
He drew that scene — nor dreamt, I ween, that yet a little while,
And the hero's doom would be a tomb far off in a lonely isle !
" I am charged, alas ! not to let you pass," said the sorrowing seutinelle ;
" Hie destiny must also be a foreign grave !" — " 'Tis well ! —
Hard is our fate to supphcate for his bones a place of rest,
And to bear away his banished clay from the land that he loved best.
But let us hence ! — Sad recompense for the lustre that he cast,
Blending the rays of modem days with the glories of the past I
Our sons will read with shame this deed (unless my mind doth err) j
And a future age make pilgrimage to the painter's sepulchre!"
How poor and pitiful to visit on his coffin the error of his
political career ! There is a sympathy in our nature that
rises in arms against any act of persecution that vents itself
upon the dead ; and genius in exile has ever excited interest
and compassion. This feeling has been admirably worked
upon by the author of the " Meditations Po^tiques," a poet
every way inferior to B^ranger, but who, in the following
effusion, has surpassed himself, and 'given utterance to some
of the noblest lines in the French language.
}La @Iotre.
A un Pokte Portugais exile, par Alphonse de la Marline.
Q-enfoeux, favoris des filles de m^moire !
Deux sentiers differents devant vous vont s'ouvrir—
L'un conduit au bonheur, 1' autre mene a la gloire :
Mortels ! il faut choisir.
Ton sort, O Manoel ! suivit la loi commune !
la muse t'enivra de pr^coces faveurs ;
Tes jours furent tissus de gloire et d'iufortune,
Et tu verses des pleurs !
Eougis, plut6t rougis, d'envier au vulgaire,
Le sterile repos dont son coeur est jaloux ;
Les dieux ont fait poiu: lui tons les biens de la terre,
Mais la lyre est a nous.
Les siecles sont k toi, le monde est ta patrie ;
Quand nous ne sommes plus, notre ombre a des autele,
Oil le juste avenir prepare k ton genie
Des honneurs immortels.
THE SONGS OF TEAIfCE. 273
Oui, la gloire t'attend ! mais arrfete et oontemple
A quel prix on pen^tre en ces parvis Baer& j
Voifl, l'Infortune,aBsise a la porte du temple,
!En garde les degr^s,
Ici o'est ee vieillard que I'ingrate lonie
A yu de mers en mers promener ses malheurs ;
Aveugle, il mendiait, au prix de son genie,
Vn pain mouiUe de pleura.
JA le Tasse, brdle d'une flamme fatale,
Bxpiant dans les fere sa gloire et son amour,
Quand il va reoueillir la palme triomphale.
Descend au noir s^jour.
Par-tout des mallieureux, des proscrits, des yictimes,
Imttant contre le sort, ou contre les bourreaux s
On dirait que le Ciel aux cceurs plus magnanimes
Mesure plus de maux.
Impose done silence aux plaintes de ta lyre —
Des cceurs n^s sans vertu I'infortune est I'^cueil j
Mais toi, roi detr6n€, que ton malheur t'inspire
TJn gSnerfeux orgueil.
Que t'importe, apres tout, que cet ordre barbare
T'enchaine loin des bords qui fin-ent ton berceau ?
Que t'importe en quel lieu le destin te prepare
TJn glorieux tombeau ?
Ni I'exU ni le fer de ces tyrans du Tage
N'enchadneront ta gloire aux bords ou tu mourras :
Lisbonne la reclame, et voili I'beritage
Que tu lui laisseras.
Ceux qui I'ont meconnu pleureront le grand honune :
Athene a des proscrits ouvre son Pantheon j
Coriolan expire, et les enfans de Bome
Beyeu^quent son nom.
Aux rivages des morts avant que de desceudre,
Ovide leve au eiel ses suppliantes mains :
Aux Sarmates barbares U a legue sa cendre,
S:t ea gloire aux Bomaius.
274 TATHEE PEOn'S EELIQTJES.
Con^iolatton.
Addressed by Lamartme to his friend and iroiher-poei, Manoi'l, ianishtd
from Portugal.
If your bosom beats high, if your pulse quieter grows,
When in visions ye fancy the wreath of the Muse,
There's the path to renown — there's the path to repose—
Te must choose ! ye must choose !
Manoel, thus the destiny rules thy career,
And thy life's web is woven with glory and woe ;
Thou wert nursed on the lap of the Muse, and thy tear
Shall unceasingly flow.
O, my friend ! do not envy the vulgar their joys,
Nor the pleasures to which their low nature is prone {
For a nobler ambition our leisure employs —
Oh, the lyre is our own !
And the future is ours ! for in ages to come.
The admirers of genius an altar will raise
To the poet ; and Fame, till her trumpet is dumb,
Will re-echo our praise.
Poet ! Glory awaits thee ; her temple is thine ;
But there's one who keeps vigil, if entrance you claim
'Tis MiSFOBTUiTE ! she sits in the porch of the shrine,
The pale portress of Fame !
Saw not Greece an old man, like a pilgrim arrayed.
With his tale of old Troy, and a staff in his hand,
Beg his bread at the door of each hut, as he strayed
Through his own classic land p
And because he had loved, though unwisely, yet weUj
Mark what was the boon by bright beauty bestowed —
Blush, Italy, blush ! for yon maniac's cell
It was Tasso's abode.
Hand in hand Woe and Genius must walk here below,
And the chalice of bitterness, mixed for mankind.
Must be quaffed by us all ; but its waters o'erflow
For the noble of mind.
Then the heave of thy heart's indignation keep down (
Be the voice of lament never wrung from thy pride j
Leave to others the weakness of grief; take renown
With endurance allied.
THE SONGS OP FEAWCE. 275
"Let them banish far off and proscribe (for they can)
Saddened Portugal's son from his dear native plains ;
But no tyrant can place the free soul under ban,
Or the spirit in chains.
No ! the frenzy of faction, though hateful, though strong,
!Prom the banks of the Tagus can't banish thy fame :
Still the halls of old Lisbon shall ring with thy song
And resound with thy name.
"When Dante's attainder his townsmen repealed—
When the sons stamped the deed of their sires with abhorrence,
They summoned reluctant Ravenna to yield
Back his fame to his Florence.
And with both hands uplifted Love's bard ere he breathed
His last sigh, far away from his kindred and home :
To the Scythians his ashes hath left, but bequeathed
AU his glory to Rome.
K"ever does poetry assume a loftier tone than -when it be-
comes the vehicle of calm philosophy or generous condo-
lence with human sufferings ; but when honest patriotism
swells the note and exalts the melody, the effect on a feeling
heart is truly delightful. List to Stranger.
Ee 'Ftolon hvi^e.
yiens^ mon chien I riens, ma pauvre bAte I Combien, sous I'ombre ou dans la grange.
Mange, malgr^ mon desespoir. Le Dimanche va sembler longl
II me reste un gateau de fete-— Dieu b^nira-t-il la vendange
Demaia nous aurons du pain noirl Qu'on ouvrira sans violon ?
Les ^traDgers, vainqueura par ruse, II d&lassait des longs ouvrages;
M'ont dit hier, dan§ ce vallon I Dii pauvre ^tourdissait les maux j
*' Fais-nous danser 1" moi je refuse ; Des graods, des imp6ts, des orages,
L'un d'eux brise mon violon, Lui seiU consolait nos hameaux.
C'^tait Torchestre du village ! Les haines il les faisait taire,
Plus de f£tes^ plus d'heureux jonrs, Les pleu^s amers 11 les sechait :
Qui fera danser sous I'omhrage ? Jamais scejtre n'a fait sur terre
Qui r^yeiUera les amours ? Autant de bien que mon archet.
Si corde vlvement press^e, Mais I'ennemi, qu'il faut qu'on chasse,
D^s I'aurore d'un jour bien donx, M'a rendu le courage ais6;
Anaon9ait k la fiancee Qu'en mes mains un mousquet remplace
Le cortege du jeune dpoux. Le violon qu'il a bris^ I
Aux cures qui Tosaient entendre Tant d'amis dont je me separe
Noa danses causaient moins d'effroi ; Diront un jour, si je peris.
La gaiety qu'il &9avait r^pandre " II n'a point voulu qu'un barbare
Eut d^rld^ le front d'un roi. Dansftt gaimenfc sur nos debiis 1"
S'il preluda dans notre gloire Viens, mon cbieni vienSj ma pauvre bStel
Aux chants qu'eUe nous Inspirait, Mange, mf^lgr^ mon desespoir.
Sur lui jamais pouvais-je croire, U me reste un gateau de ffite—
Que r^tranger se vengerait? Demaiu nous aurons du pain noirl
I 2
276 FATHEE PEOUt'S EEHQrBS.
CJc dTrmci^ dftKUItr'd ilatnentatton.
My poor dog ! here ! of yesterday's festival-cate
Eat the poor remains in sorrow ;
For when next a repast you and I shall ma^e.
It must be on brown bread, which, for charity's sake.
Your master must beg or borrow.
Of these strangers the presence and pride in France
la to me a perfect riddle ;
They have conquered, no doubt, by some fatal chance—
For they haughtily said, " You must play us a dance !"
I refused — and they broke my fiddle !
Of our Tillage the orchestra, crushed at one stroke,
By that savage insult perished !
'Twas then that our pride felt the strangers' yoke,
When the insolent hand of a foreigner broke
What our hearts so dearly cherished.
For whenever our youth heard it merrily sound,
A flood of gladness shedding,
At the dance on the green they were sure to be found j
While its music assembled the neighbours around
To the village maiden's wedding.
By the priest of the parish its note was pronounced
To be innocent " after service ;"
And gaily the wooden-shoe'd peasantry bounced
On the bright Sabbath-day, as they danced undenounced
By pope, or bonze, or dervis.
How dismally slow will the Sabbath now run.
Without fiddle, or flute, or tabor —
How sad is the harvest when music there's none —
&0W sad is the vintage sana fiddle begun ! —
Dismal and tuneless labour !
In that fiddle a solace for grief we had got ;
'Twas of peace the best preceptor ;
For its sound made all quarrels subside on the spot^
And its bow went much farther to soothe our hard lot
Than the crosier or the sceptre.
But a truce to my grief ! — for an insult so base
A new pulse in my heart hath awoken !
That affront I'll revenge on their insolent race ;
Gtird a sword on my thigh — let a musket replace
The fiddle their hJaud has broken.
THE SON&S OF rEAHCE.
277
My friends, if I fell, my old corpse in the crowd
Of slaughtered martyrs viewing,
Shall say, while they wrap my cold limbs in a shroud,
'Twas not his faxilt if some a barbarian allowed
To dance in our country's ruin !"
It -would be a pity, while we are in the patriotic strain of
sentiment, to allow the feelings to cool ; so, to use a techni-
5al phrase, we shall keep the steam up, by flinging into the
ilready kindled furnace of generous emotions a truly nati-
jnal baHad, by Casimir Delavigne, concerning a well-known
mecdote of the late revolution, July 1830.
Ci)e 2iog of ti)t C^m Bapi.
A Ballad, September 1831.
With gentle tread, with uncover' d
head.
Pass by the Louvre-gate,
Where buried lie the "men of
JtTLT !"
And flowers are flung by the
passers-by,
And the dog howls desolate.
Et Ci&tcn au Hoiibrt.
Casimir Delavigne.
Passant! que ton front se decouvre !
La plus d'un brave est endormi !
Des fleurs pour le martyr du Louvre,
TJn peu de pain pour son ami !
D'etait le jour de la bataiUe,
n s'elanca sous la mitraiUe,
Son chien suivit ;
Qe plomb tous deux vint les attein-
dre —
Elst-ce le martyr qu'il faut plaindre?
Le chien survit.
Mome, vers le brave il se penche,
L'appeUe, et de sa t^te blanche
Le caressant ;
3ur le corps de son frere d'armes
Laisse couler ses grosses larmes
Avec son sang.
g-ardien du terte funeraire,
Cful plaisir ne peut le distraire
De son ennui ;
Et fiiyant la main qui I'attire,
A.veo tristesse il semble dire,
" Oe n'est pas lui !"
Q,uand sur ces touffes d'immortelles
Brillent d'bumides ^tinceUes,
That dog had fought,
In the fierce onslaught
Had rushed with his master on :
And both fought well;
But the master feE —
And behold the surviving one !
By his lifeless clay.
Shaggy and grey.
His fellow-warrior stood :
Nor moved beyond,
But mingled, fond.
Big tears with his master's blood
Vigil he teeps
By those green heaps.
That tell where heroes be j
No passer-by
Can attract his eye,
Tor he knows " it is not he !"
At the dawn, when dew
Wets the garlands new
278
TATHEE PEOirx's EELIQITES.
Au pjint du jour,
Son ceil se ranime, il se dresse
Pour que son maitre le caresse
A son retour.
Aux Tents des nuits, quand la cou-
ronne
Sur la croix du tombeau frisonne,
Perdant I'espoir,
II veut que son maitre I'entende —
II gronde, il pleure, et lui demande
Ij'adieu du soir.
Si la neige avee violence
De ses flocons couvre en silence
Le lit de mort,
H pouBse un cri lugubre et tendre,
On s'y couche pour le d^fendre
Des vents du nord.
Avant de fermer la paupiere,
II fait pour soulever la pierre
TTu vain effort ;
Puis il B6 dit, comme la veille
" H m'appelera s'il s'^veille" —
Puis il s'endort.
La uuit il r4ve barricades —
Son maitre est sous la fusillade,
Couvert de sang ; —
n I'entend qui siffle dans I'ombre,
Se l^ve, et saute aprfes son ombre
En gemissant.
C'est ]k qu'il attend d'heure en
heure,
Qu'il aime, qu'il souffre, qu'il pleure,
Et qu'il mourra.
Quel fut son nom ? C'est im mys-
t6re ;
Jamais la voix qui lui fat chSre
Ne le dira 1
Passant! que ton front se dloouvre !
L^ plus d'un brave est endormi ;
Des fleurs pour le martyr du
Louvre,
Un peu de pain pour son ami !
That are hung in this place of
mourning,
He will start to meet
The coming feet
Of HIM whom he dreamt returning.
On the grave's wood-cross
When the ohaplets toss.
By the blasts of midnight shaken,
How he howleth ! hark !
!From that dweUing dark
The slain, he would fain, awaken.
When the snow comes fast
On the chilly blast.
Blanching the bleak churchyard.
With limbs outspread
On the dismal bed
Of his liege, he still keeps guard.
Oft in the night,
With main and might,
He strives to raise the stone :
Short respite takes —
" If master wakeS,
He'U call me" — then sleeps on.
Of bayonet-bladps,
Of barricades,
And guns, he dreameth most ;
Starts from his dream,
And then would seem
To eye a bleeding ghost.
He'U linger there
In sad despair,
And die on his master's grave.
His name ? 'Tis known
To the dead alone —
He's the dog of the nameless
brave !
&ive a tear to the dead,
And give some bread
To the dog of the Louvre gate !
Where buried he the men of July,
And flowers are flung by the
passers-by.
And the dog howls desolate.
THE SON&S OF FBANOE. 279
When Diderot wrote that celebrated sentence, that he
Baw no difference between himself and a dog but the clothes,
he, no doubt, imagined he had conferred a compliment on
the dumb animal. I rather suspect, knowing the nature of
a thorough-bred TVenqh philosopher, that the balance of
dignity inclines the other way. Certain 1 am, that any
thing like honest, manly, or affectionate feeling never had
ylace in the breast of this contributor to the "Encyclop^die,"
and writer of irreligious and indecent romances.
There are sermons in stones, philosophy in a fiddle, and a
deep undercurrent of ethical musing runs often beneath
apparently shallow effusions. Yet I fear Beranger's are far
from being sacred songs after the manner of Watts' hymns
or Pompignan's Poesies Sacrdes at which Voltaire sneered.
" Sacrdes eUes sent ear personne n'y touche." Of this class
France can show the odes of Jean Baptisle Eousseau, the
chorus hymns in Esther by Eacine, and the old version of
the Psalms with which Clement Marot comforted his brother
Huguenots.
The Noels, or carols for Christmas tide, are also found in
the French provinces, charming in thought and sentiment ;
in Brittany especially there are some current under the
name of Abelard (who was a born Breton), thfe philosophic
tone of which bespeaks a scholastic origin. As I write in
December, and that solemn festivity is at hand, I do not
hesitate to lay before my reader one of them. Druidieal
tradition had its stronghold in Bretagne, which accounts for
Abelard's choice of subject in the following noel.
W^t JHistletoe, a tpft of t||t fltaben^Sorn.
I. And a rod from his robe he drew —
A prophet sat by the Temple gate, '^^*= ^ withered bough torn
And he spake each passer by — _ i.i.°''? *^? i . , .,
In thrUhng tone-with word of ^T.}^ I ,,7 ^^^^ 'V^'Tj
j5, j. But the branch long torn show d
And fire in'his rolHng eye. ^^ , ^ «\''^,<i "«^ ^1°™
" Pause thee, believing Jew ! Thathad blossomed there anew.
Nor move oL step leyond, T^^lu^Ti .i. »,■ *i, .
Until thy heart hath ponder'd And the bud was the birth ol
ne mystery of this wand." wOD.
280
PATHKE PEOTJT'S EEHQTJBS.
n.
A priest of Egypt sat meanwhile
TJnder a lofty palm.
And gazing on hiB native Nile,
As in a mirror calm,
He saw a lowly Lotus plant —
Pale orphan of the flood.
And well did th' aged hierophant
Mark the mysterious bud :
For he fitly thought, as he saw it
float
O'er the waste of waters wUd,
That the symbol told of the cradle
boat
Of the wondrous Hebrew child.
Nor was that bark-Kke Lotus dumb
Of a mightier infant yet to come,
Whose graven skiff in hieroglyph
Marks obelisk and catacomb.
in.
A Greek sat on Colonna's eape.
In his lofty thoughts alone,
And a volume lay on Plato's lap,
For he was that lonely one.
And oft as the sage gazed o'er the
page
His forehead radiant grew ;
For iuWisdom's womb of the Word
to come,
The vision blest his view.
He broached that theme in the
Academe,
In the teachfiil olive grove ;
And a chosen few that secret knew
In the Porch's dim alcove.
IV.
A SybU sat in Cumse's cave —
'Twas the hour of in&nt Eome —
And vigil kept, and warning gave
Of the holy one to come.
'Twas she who had culled the hal-
lowed branch,
And sat at the silent hehn
When iEneas, sire of Bome, would
launch
His bark o'er Hades' realm.
And now she poured her vestal soul
Through many a bright Hlmninell
soroU ;
By priest and sage of an after-age
Conned in the lofty capitol.
V.
A Druid stood iu the dark oak wood
Of a distant northern land j
And he seemed to hold a sickle of
gold
In, the grasp of his withered
hand;
And slowly moved around the girth
Of an aged oak, to see
If a blessed plant of wondrous birth
Had clung to the old oak tree.
And anon he knelt, and &om his
belt
Unloosened his golden blade,
Then rose and culled the Mistle-
toe
Under the woodland shade.
VI,
O, blessed bough! meet emblem
thou
Of all dark Egypt knew.
Of all foretold to the wise of old,
To Eoman, Greek, and Jew. ,
And long God grant, time-honoliecl
plant.
May we behold thee hung
In cottage small, as in baron's hall.
Banner and shield among.
Thus fitly rule the mirth of Yule
Aloft in thy place of pride ;
StUL usher forth in each land of the
north
The solemn Christmas tide.
Sucli was the. imaginative tteory of tlie great scholastic
with reference to symbolism and the mistletoe. The dust
THE SONGtS 01' FEANCB. 281
of the schools is sometimes diamond dust, and fancy is often
mixed up with metaphysics. That Abelard's orthodoxy should
be damaged by his fantastic faculties was a natural result ;
as it also may prove in the case of a modem light of the
GaUican church, likewise a native of Brittany,- Abb^ Lam-
menais. I see in his eloquent "Essai sur V indifference enReli-
gion," the germ of much future aberration, and predict for
him a career like that of the Abbe Eaynal, whose " History
of European Commerce in the two Indies," full of impas-
sioned and brilliant passages, is as replete with anti- social
and anti-christian sentiment as any contemporary declama-
tion of D'Holbach or Diderot.
What though the pen of some among these sophists could
occasionally trace eloquent words in the advocacy of their
disastrous theories ? — what care I for the
■" verdant spots that bloom
Aiound the crater's burning lips,
Sweetening the very edge of doom," —
if the result be an eruption of all the evil passions of man-
kind to desolate the fair face of society.
It is vdth unaffected sorrow I find the noble faculties of
B&anger devoted now and then to similar viUanies ; but ia
the following he has clothed serene philosophy in appro-
priate diction.
%t6 <&toi\t6 qm fileiit. Si^&ooting gitars.
" Berger ! tu dis que notre ^toile " Shepherd ! they say that a star pre-
Begle noB jours, et briHe aux sides
cieux ?" Over Kfe ?"— '"Tis a truth,my son !
"Oui, mon enfant! mais de son Its secrets from men the firmament
voile hides,
Lanuitladerobeinosyeux." — But tells to some favoured one." —
"Berger! sur cet azur tranquiUe " Shepherd! they say that a link un-
De lire on te eroit le secret ; broken
Quelle est cette ^toile qui file, Connects our fate with some favou-
Qui file, file, et disparait ?" rite star ;
What may yon shooting light be-
token,
Xhat falls, falls, and is quenched
afer?"
282 FATHEE PEOn'S EELTQTOS.
" Mon enfant, im mortel expire ! " The death of a mortal, my bod, ■who
Son ftoile tombe a I'instant ; held
Entre amis que la joie inspire In his banqueting-hall high revel ;
Celui-ci buvait en chantant. And his music was sweet, and his wioe
Heurerac, il s'eudort mimobile excelled,
Aupres du vin qu'il c^l^brait." Life's path seemed long and level :
" Encore nne etoile qui file, No sign was given, no word was
Qui file, file, et disparalt f " spoken,
His pleasure death comes to mar."
" But what does yon milder light be-
token.
That falls, falls, and is quenched
afar ?"
" Mon enfant ! qu'elle est pure " 'Tis the knell of beauty ! — it marls
et belle ! the close
CTestoelled'unobjetoharmant; Of a pure and gentle maiden ;
Eille heureuse ! amante fidele ! And her cheek was warm with its
On I'aeoorde au plus tendre bridal rose,
amant ; And her brow with its bride-wreath
Des fleurs ceignent son front laden : —
nubile, The thousand hopes young love had
Etdel'Hymenl'autelestpr^t." woken
" Encore une etoile qui file, Lie crushed, and her dream is past."
Qui file, file, et disparidt ?" " But what can yon rapid light be-
token.
That falls, falls, and is quenched so
fast ?"
" Mons fils ! c'est I'etoile rapide " 'Tis the emblem, my sou, of quick
D'un tres-grand seigneur nou- decay I
veau-n^ ; 'Tis a rich lord's child newly horn :
Le berceau qu'il a laiss^ vide The cradle that holds his inanimate
D'or et de pourpre ^tait om^ : clay,
Des poisons qu'un flatteur dis- Gold, purple, and silk adorn ;
tille, The panders prepared through life to
C'etait k qui le uourrirait." haunt him
" Encore \me etoile qui file. Must seek some one else in his
Qui file, file, et disparalt ?" room."
" Look, now ! what means yon dismal
phantom
That falls, falls, and is lost in
gloom ?"
"Mon enfant, quel Eclair si- "There, son! I see the guilty thought
nistre ! Of a haughty statesman fiul,
C'ftait I'astre d'un fevori, Who the poor man's comfortt sternly
Qui se croyait un grand ministre, sought
Quand de nos maux il avait ri. To plunder or curtail.
THE SONGS OF rEAJJCB.
283
Ceux qui servaient ce dieu fragile
Out dejS, cach^ son portrait."
" Encore une etoQe qui file,
Qui file, file, et dieparalt."
His former sycophants have cursed
Their idol's base endeavour,"
" But vratoh the light that now has
burst,
Falls, falls, and is quenohed for
" Mon fils, quels pleurs sont les
ndtres !
D'un riohe nous perdons I'ap-
pui :
L' indigence glane chez les autres,
Mais eUe moissonnait chez Im !
Ce Boir nieme, sdr d'un asyle,
A son toit le pauvre acoourait."
" Encore une etoile qui file,
Qui file, file, et diaparait ?"
" C'est ceUe d'un puissant mo-
narque !
Va, mon fils ! garde ta can-
deur J
Et que ton Etoile ne marque
Par I'eclat ni par la grandeur.
Si tu brillais sans ^tre utile,
A ton dernier jour on dirait,
' Ce n'est qu'une Etoile qui file.
Qui file, file, et disparait !'"
" What a loss, O my son, was there !
Where shall himgernowseek relief?
The poor, who are gleaners elsewhere,
Could reap in his field fall sheaf!
On the evening he died, his door
Was thronged with a weeping
crowd." —
"Loot, shepherd! there's onestarmore
That falls, and is quenched in a
cloud."
" 'Tis a monarch's star ! Do thou pre-
serve
Thy innocence, my child !
If or from thy course appointed swerve,
But there shine calm and mild.
Of thy star, if the sterile ray
For no useful purpose shone,
At thy death, ' See that star,' they'd
say J
' It falls ! falls ! is past and gone !'"
The philosopliic humour of the next ballad is not in so
magnificent a vein ; but good sense and excellent wisdom it
most assuredly containeth, being a commendatory poem on
a much-abused and unjustly depreciated branch of the
feathered family.
aeg (Bid (1810).
Bes chansonniers damoiseau^
J'abandonne les voies ;
Quittant bosquets et riseaux,
Je ohante au lieu des oiseaux —
IJes oies !
Bossignol, en vain la bas
Ton gosier se diploic ;
Mslgri tes briUants appas,
En brocha tu ne vaux pas
TJue oie 1
a Jpanegortc on &ttei (1810).
I hate to sing your hactney'd birds —
So, doves and swans, a truce !
Tour nests have been too often stirred;
My hero shall be — ^in a word —
A goose !
The nightingale, or else " bulbul,"
By Tommy Moore let loose.
Is grown intolerably duU —
/ from the the feathered nation cull
A goose 1
284
FATHEE PEOUT 8 EELIQTJES.
Strasbourg tire vanity
Be ses p&t£s de foie ;
Cette superbe citfi
Ne doit sa prosp^rit^
Qu'aux oies !
On peut faire un bon repas
D'ortolans, de lamproies —
Mais Paris n'en produit pas ;
n s'y trouve h chaque pas
Des oies I
les Qreos, d'uu commun aveu,
S'emmyaient devant Xroie j
Pour les amuser un peu,
tOysse inventa le jeu
De I'oie.
Sur un aigle, au vol brutal,
Jupiter nous foudroie :
II nous ferait morns de mal
S'il choiaissait pour cheval
TJne oie.
Can roasted Philomel a liver
Fit for a pie produce ?
Fat pies that on the Bhine's sweet
river
Fair Strasburg babes. Pray who's the
giver?
A goose !
An ortolan is good to eat,
A partridge is of use ;
But they are Boarce — whereas you meet
At Paris, ay, in every street,
A goose !
When tired of war the Greeks became,
They pitched Troy to the deuce,
Ulysses, then, was not to blame
For teaching them the noble " game
Of goose !"
May Jupiter and Buonaparte,
Of thunder less profuse.
Suffer their eagles to depart.
Encourage peace, and take to heart
A goose !
Wisdom openeth her moutli in parables; so Bferanger
stigmatized the internal administration of France (1810) in
his song Le Boi d' Yveiot. The oriental fashion of convey-
ing a sober truth by allegorical narrative is occasionally (and
gracefully) adopted by the poets of France, one of whom has
left us this pretty line, containing in itself the precept and
the exemplification :
" L'aJlegorie habite un palais diaphaue !"
Here is one concerning loye and his arch-enemy Time, by
Count de Segur.
%e %tmi ct rumour.
A voyager passant sa vie,
Certain vieiUard, nommfe le Tems,
Pres d'un flenve arrive, et s'eerie,
" Prenez piti^ de mes vieux aus !
Eh, quoi ! sour ees bords I'ou m'oublie—
Moi, qui compte tons les instans P
Jeimes bergeres I je vous prie
Veuez, venez, passer le Terns !"
THE SONGS 01' rEANOB. 285
De Tautre c6tl, but la plage,
Plus d'une fiUe regardait,
Et vouMt aider son passage
Sur une barque qu' Amoiir guidait ;
Mais I'une d'elles, bien plus sage,
Leur rep^tait ces mots prudens—
" Ah, souTent on a fait naufrage
Bn eherchant ^ passer le Tema !"
Amour gaiment pousse au rivage —
II aborde tout pres du Terns ;
II lui propose le voyage,
L'embarque, et s'abandonne aux venta.
Agitant ses rames l^g^res,
H dit et redit en ses chants —
" Tous voyez, jeunes berg^res.
Que r Amour fait passer le Terns !"
Mais 1' Amour bient6t se lasse
Ce flit la toujours son defaut ;
Le Terns prend la rame k sa place,
Et dit, "Eh quoi ! quitter sit6t?
Pauvre enfant, quelle est ta foiblesse '.
Tu dors, et je chante a men tour
Ce vieui refrain de la sagesse,
Le Terns fait passer 1' Amour I"
Ctme antr ILobe.
Old Time is a pilgrim — with onward coursa
He journeys for months, for years ;
But the trav'ller to-day must halt perforce —
Behold, a broad river appears !
" Pass me over," Time cried ; " O ! tarry not,
For I count each hour with my gla«s ;
Te, whose skiff is moored to yon pleasant spot — i
Toung maidens,, old Time come pass !"
Many maids saw with pity, upon the bant,
The old man with his glass in grief j
Their kindness, he said, he would ever thank,
If they'd row liim across in their skiff.
While some wanted Lote to unmoor the bark.
One wiser in thought sublime :
" Ofb shipwrecks occur," was the maid's remark,
" When seeking to pass old Time !"
From the strand the small skiff Love pushed afloat-
He crossed to the pilgrim's side,
And taking old TnnE in his well-trimmed boat,
Dipt his oars in the flowing tide.
2S6 TATHEE PEOrx'S EELIQUES.
Sweetly he sung as he worked at the oar,
And this was his merry song—
" You see, young maidens who crowd the shore,
How with LoTE Time passes along ?"
But soon the poor boy of his task grew tired.
As he often had been before ;
And faint from his toil, for mercy desired
Father Time to take up the oar.
In his turn grown tuneftd, the pilgrim old
With the paddles resumed the lay ;
But he changed it and sung, " Young maids, behold
How with Time Love passes away !"
1 close this paper by an ode on the subject of "time," by
B, certain. Mr. Thomas. Its author, a contemporary of the
philosophic gang alluded to throughout, was frequently the
object of their sarcasm, because he kept aloof from their
coteries. He is author of a panegyric on Marcus Aiirelius,
once the talk of all Paris, now forgotten. These are the
concluding stanzas of an
®Ue au €tmi. (Btit to Cime.
Sijederais un jour pour deyiles If my mind's independence one day
richesses I'm to sell,
Vendre ma Hbert^ desoendre a If with Vice in her pestilent haunts
des bassesses — I'm to dwell —
Si mon coeur par mes sens devait Then in mercy, I pray thee, 0
etre amoUi — Time !
O Terns, je te dirais, h&te ma der- Ere that day of disgrace and dishc-
niSre heure, nour comes on,
H&te-toi que je meure : Let my life be out short! — better,
J'aime mieux n'6tre pas que de better be gone
yivre aviU. Than Uve here on the wages of
crime!
Mais si de la yertu les g6ni- But if yet I'm to kindle a flame in the
reuses flammes soul
Doivent de mes ecrits passer en Of the noble and free — if my voice can
quelques S.mes — console.
Si je dois d'un ami consoler les In the day of despondency, some — -
malheurs — If I'm destined to plead in the poor
S'il est des maUieureui dont I'ob- man's defence —
scure indigence If my writings can force from the mir
Languisse sans defense, tional sense
Et dont ma faible main doit es- AnenactmeMof joy for hia home i*
suyer les pleurs : —
* Prout alludes to O'OonneU's conduct on the Poor Law for Ireland.
THE SOKGS OF FEANOE. 287
d Tems ! suspends ton vol ! re- Tune ! retard thy departure ! and
Bpeete ma jennesse 1 linger awtole —
Que m& m^re long-tems, t^moin Let my " songs" still awake of my
de ma tendresse, mother the smile —
Be^oive mes tributs de respect et OfmyBisterthejoy,a8 she sings.
d'amour ! But, O Gioby and Vibtue ! your
Et vous, GiiorEK ! Vebttt ! d^- care I engage ;
esses immortelles, When I'm old — ^when my head shall
Que Tos brillantes aUes be silyered with age,
Sur mes cheveux blanohis se re- Come and shelter my brow with
posent uu jour !
No. X.
THE SONGS OF FEANOE.
ON WINE, WAE, WOMEN, WOODEN SHOES, FHILOSOPHT,
FEOGS, AND FEEE TEADE.
dTrom tl)e 3Bxovit Papers!.
Chaptee IV. — Peogs and Feee Teadb.
" Cantano gli !Francesi — pagaranno !"
Cabdisaii MAZABnr.
" They sing ? tax 'em !" PeotjI.
" EansB yagantes liberis paludibus,
Clamore magno regem peti^runt i Jove, .
Qui dissilutos mores vi compeseeret." ''
PsiEDBi, Fab. 2.
England for fogs ! the sister-isle for bogs !
Erance is the land for liberty and frogs !
Angels may weep o'er man's fantastic tricks ;
But Louis-Philippe laughs at Charley Dix.
Erance for Eing " Loggy " now has got " a stork ;"
See Phsedrus — also ^sop.
(Signed) O. Yobkb.
The more we develop these MSS., and the deeper we
plunge into the cavity of Prout's wondrous coffer, the fonder
288 FATHEE PEOTIT'S EELIQTJXS.
we become of the old presbyter, and the more impressed
nrith the variety and versatility of his powers. His was a
tuneful soul ! In his earthly envelop there dwelt a hidden
host of melodious numbers ; he was a walking store-house of
harmony. The followers of Huss, when they had lost in
battle their commander Zisca, had the wit to strip him of
his hide ; out of which (when duly tanned) they made unto
themselves a drum, to stimulate by its magic soxm.d their
reminiscences of so much martial glory : our plan would
have been to convert the epidermis of the defunct father
into that engine of harmony which, among Celtic nations,
is known by the name of the " bagpipe ;" and thus secure
to the lovers of song and melody an invaluable relic, an in-
strument of music which no Cremona fiddle could rival in
execution. But we should not produce it on vulgar occa-
sions : the ministerial accession of the Duke (1835), should
alone be solemnised by a blast jfrom this musico-cutaneous
phenomenon ; aware of the many accidents which might
otherwise occur, such as, in the narrative of an Irish wed-
ding, has been recorded by the poet, —
" Then the piper, a dacent gossoon,
Began to play ' Eileen Aroon ;'
Until an arch wag
Cut a hole in his bag.
Which alas ! put an end to the tune
Too soon !
The music blew up to the moon '."
Lord Byron, who had the good taste to make a claret-
cup out of a human skidl, would no doubt highly applaud
our idea of preserving a skinful of Prout's immortal essence
in the form of such an iEoUan bagpipe.
In our last chapter we have given his opinions on the
merit of the leading !Prench philosophers — a gang of theo-
rists now happily swept off the face of the earth, or most
miserably supplanted in IVance by St. Simonians and Boo-
trinaires, and in this country by the duller and more plodding
generation of " Utilitarians." To Denis Diderot has suc-
ceeded Dionysius Lardner, both toiUng intermiuable at their
cyclopaedias, and, like wounded snakes, though trampled on
by all who tread the paths of science, still rampant onwards
in the dust and slime of elaborate authorship. Truly, sinc^
the days of the great St. Denis, who walked deliberately,
THE SOTTGS OP ITEAJfOE. 289
with imperturbable composure, bearing his head in his as-
tonished grasp, from Montmartre to the fifth milestone on
the northern road out of Paris ; nay, since the stUl earlier
epoch of the Siciliaii schoolmaster, who opened a " univer-
sity" at Corinth, omitting Dionysius of Halicamassus, and
Dennis the critic who figures in the " Dimciad," never has
the name been borne with greater Mat than by its great '
modern proprietor. His theories, and those of Dr. Bowring,
are glanced at in the follovraig paper, which concludes the
Proutean series of the " Songs of Prance."
Par be it from us to imagine that either of these learned
doctors will turn from their crude speculations and listen to
the voice of the charmer, charm he ever so wisely ; we know
the self-opinionated tribe too well to fancy such a consum-
mation as the result of old Prout's strictures : but, since
the late downfal of Whiggery, we can aflford to laugh at
what must now only appeaj" in the harmless shape of a
solemn quiz. We would no more quarrel with them for
hugging their cherished doctrines, than we would find fault
with the Hussites above mentioned ; who, when the J esuit
Peter Canisius came to Prague to argue them into concilia-
tion, inscribed on their banner the foHovraig epigrammatic
line :
" Tu proeul esto ' Cauie,' pro nobis excubat ' ajiseb !"'
The term " Huss" being, from the peculiarity of its guttural
sound, among^'Teuftonic nations iudicative of what we call a
goose.
OLIVEE TOEKE.
Jan. 1st, 1835.
Watergrasshill, Jan. 1, 1832.
It is with nations as with individuals : the greater is man's
intercourse with his fellow-man in the interchange of social
companionship, tlie more enlightened he becomes ; and, ia
the keen encounter of wit, loses whatever awkwardness or
indolence of mind may have been his original portion. If
the aggregate wisdom of any country could be for a mo-
V
2yO PATHEB PBOITt's EELIQrES.
ment supposed hermetically sealed from the interfusion of
foreign notions, rely on it there would be found a most
lamentable poverty of intellect in the land, a sad torpor ia
the public feelings, and a woful stagnation in the delicate
"fluid" called thought. Peru, Mexico, and China — the two
first at the period of Montezuma and the Incas, the last in
our own day — have the degree of mental culture which may
be expected from a collective body of men, either studiously
or accidentally sequestered from the rest of the species ; I
suspect, the original stock of information derived from the
first settlers constituted the entire intellectual wealth in
these two secluded sections of the globe. On inquiry, it
will perhaps be found, that Egypt (which has on all sides
been admitted to have been our great-grandmother in art,
science, and literature) was evidently but tSe dowager widow
of antediluvian Knowledge ; and that the numerous progeny
which has since peopled the universe, all the ofispring of
intermarriage and frequent alliance, bears undoubted marts
and features of a common origin. The literature of Grreece
and Eome reflects back the image of Hebrew and Eastern
composition ; the Scandinavian poets are not without traces
of affinity to their Arabic brethren ; the inspiration of Irish
melody is akin to that of Persian song ; and the very diver-
sity of detail only strengthens the likeness on the whole :
" Pacies non omnibus una.
Nee diversa tamen, quails deeet esse soronim."
Ovid.
This is shown by the Jesuit Andrfes, in his " Storia di ogni
Letteratura," Parma, 1782".
St. Chrysostom, talking of the link which connects the
Mosaic writings with the books of the New Testament, and
the common agreement that is found between the thoughts
of the prophet of Mount Carmel and those of the sublime
solitary of the island of Patmos, introduces a beautiful me-
taphor ; as, indeed, he generally does, when he wishes to
leave any striking idea impressed on his auditory. " Chris-
tianity," quoth he, " struck its roots in the books of the ,01d
Testament ; it blossomed in the Gospels of i\& New :"
Ej|/^ai^»j fj^iv IV Toig ^i^Xioii rm wjop^jrwi/, iSKaerriet dt tv ro/j
svayyiXXioi; rm aitodToKm, — Homil. de Nov, et Vet. Test.
THE SONGS OF FEATrOE. 291
To apply the holy bishop's illustration, I would say, that
taste and refinement among modern writers are traceable to
a growing acquaintance with the ancient classics ; an inti-
macy which, though not possesspd by each individual member
of the great family of authors, still influences the whole,
and pervades the general mass of our literature. A certain
antique bon ton is unconsciously contracted even by our
female contributors to the common fund of literary enjoy-
ment ; and I could mention one (L. E. L.) whom I presume
innocent of G-reek, but as purely Attic in style as if, instead
of Cockney diet, she had fed in infancy on the honey of
Mount Hymettus.
The eloquent French lavryer, De Marchangy, in his
" Gaule Poetique," attributes — I know not how justly — the
first rise of poetic excellence, in Provence, (where taste and
scholarship made their first appearance with the trouba-
dours,) to the circumstance of MarseilLes having been a
Grreclan colony ; and he ascribes the readiness with which
the Provencal genius caught the flame, and kindled it on the
fragrant hills of that beautiful coast of the Mediterranean,
to a certain predisposition in the blood and constitutional
habit of the people, derived from so illustrious a pedigree.
'"Twas a glorious day!" exclaims the poetic attorney-ge-
neral,'going back in spirit to the epoch of that immigration
of the Phocians iato Gallia Narbonensis — " 'twas a noble
spectacle to see those sons of civilisation and commerce' land
on our barbarous but picturesque and hospitable shore ! to
see the gallant children of Attiea shake from their buskins
on our territory the dust of the hippodrome, and entwine the
myrtle of Gnidus with the mistletoe of Gaul ! When their
fleet anchored in our gladdened gulf of Provence, when
their voices uttered sounds of cultivated import, when the
music of the Lesbian lute and Teian lyre came on the
charmed senses of our rude aneestors, a shout of welcome
was heard from our hills ; and our Druids hailed with the
hand of fellowship the priests of Jove and of ApoUo. Mar-
seilles arose to the sound of harmonious intercourse, and to
the eternal triumph of international commingling ! Tou
would have thought that a floating island of Greece, that
one of the Cyclades, or Delos the wanderer of the Archi-
pelago, had strayed away and taken root upon our coast,
u 2
292 TATHEE PEOrT S EBLIQTTES.
crowned with its temples, filled with, its inhabitants, its
sacred groves, its arts, it laws, its perfume of refinement in
love, and its spirit of freedom !"
"Free trade" in all the emanations of intellect has ever
had a purely beneficial effect, blessing him who gave and him
who received : it never can injure a nation or an individual
to impart knowledge, or exchange ideas. This is admitted.
IVom the sun, who lights up the planets and the " silver
moon," to the Greenwich pensioner, whose pipe is lit at the
focus of a neighbour's calumet, _^re, And flame, &ni brightness,
are of their nature communicable, vrithout loss or diminution
in the slightest way to the communicant. So it is with miad,
But how stands the case with matter ? are the same princi-
ples applicable, under existing circumstances, to the produc-
tions of manual toil and the distribution of employment
through the different trades and crafts ? Is it for the interest
of the material and grosser world, who eat, drink, are clothed^
and surrounded with household necessities — who are con-
demned to look for support through the troublesome medium
of daily labour — is it fit or judicious, in the complicated state
of the social frame now established in Europe, to lay level
all the barriers which climate, boU, situation, and industry,
have raised for the protection of the productive classes ia
each country ; and, by the light of the new aurora borealis,
which has arisen on our school of political economy, to con-
found all the elements of actual life, and try back on all the
wisdom of antiquity ? As sagacious and consistent would be
a proposal to abolish the quarantine laws, that " free trade"
might be enjoyed by the plague ; to break down the dykes
of Holland, that the ocean should be "free;" to abolish all
the copyright and " patent-laws," that " piracy" may be free
to the dull and the uninventive ; the " game-laws," that aU
may shoot ; " tolls," that all may go where they list unim-
peded ; " rent," that all may live scot-free ; and, finally, the
laws of property, the laws of marriage, and the laws of God,
which are onore or less impediments in the way of " free
trade."
Fully aware that the advantages of rendering each nation
dependent on foreign supply for objects of prime necessity,
by establishing a nicely balanced equipoise in the commercial
relations of every spot in the globe, have been luminously
THE SONGS OF TEANCE.
293
vindicated, in many a goodly tome, pamphlet, and lengthy
oration ; I yet think the best practical treatise on the sub-
ject, and the most forcible recommendation of its benefits to
aU concerned, have come from the philosophic pen of Beran-
ger, who has embodied the maxims of " free trade," as well
as many other current doctrines, in. the
Bdranger.
Scarciers, tateleurs, ou filoux !
Beste immonde
D'un anoien moude )
Sorciers, bateleurs, ou ffloux !
Gais Boh^miens ! d'ou venez-
VOUB?
D'oil nous venons ? L'on n'eu
sgait rien.
L'hirondelle,
D'oil Tous Yientjelle ?
D'oii nous Tenons ? L'on n'en
S9ait rien.
Oil nous irons le B9ait on bien.
^olttual lEconomn of tif)e
Sons of witchcraft! tribe of thieves!
Whom the villager believes
To deal vrith Satan,
Tell us your customs and your rules :
Whence came ye to this land of fools,
On whom ye fatten ?
" Whence do we come ? Whence comes
the swallow ?
Where does our home lie ? Try to fol-
low
The wild bird's flight.
Speeding from winter's rude approach :
Such home is ours. Who dare en-
croach
Upon our right ?
Sans pays, sans prince, et sans Prince we have none, nor gipsy throne,
lois, Nor magistrate nor priest we own,
Notre vie Nor tax nor claim ;
Doit faire envie. Blithesome, we wander reckless, free,
Sans pays, sans prince, sans lois. And happy two days out of three j
L'homme est heureux un jour Who'U say the same ?
BUT trois.
Tous ind^pendans nous naissons, Away with church-enactments dismal I
Sans eghse
Qui nous baptise :
Tous independans nous naissons,
Au bruit dufifre et des chansons.
Nos premiers pas sont d^ages
Dans ce monde
Oil I'erreur abonde ;
Nos premiers pas sont degages
Du vieux maiUot des prejuges.
We have no hturgy baptismal
When we are born ;
Save the dance under greenwood tree.
And the glad sound of revelry
With pipe and horn.
At our first entrance on this globe,
Where Falsehood walks in varied robe,
Caprice, and whims,
— Sophist or bigot, heed ye this !—
The swathing-bands of prejudice
Bound not our limbs.
294
TATHBE P]10tra'''S KELIQUES.
An peuple en but a nos laroins,
Tout grimoire
En peut faire accroire ;
An peuple en but 5. nos larcins,
H faut des sorciers et des sainta.
Well do we ten the vulgar mind,
Ever to Truth and Candour blind,
But led by Cunning ;
What rogue can tolerate a brother P
Gipsies contend with priestg, each
other
In tricks outrunning.
Fauvres oiseaux que Bieu binit,
De la ville
Qu'on nous exile ;
Pauvres oiseaux que Dieu benit,
Au fond des bois pend notre nid.
Ton osil ne peut se detacher,
Philosophe
De mince ^toffe —
Ton ceil ne peut se dftacher
Du vieux ooq de ton vieux
clocher.
Your ' towered cities' please us not j
But give us some secluded spot,
Ear from the millions :
Ear from the busy haimts of men,
Erise for the night, in shady glen.
Our dark pavilionB.
Soon we are off j for we can see
Nor pleasure nor philosophy
In fix^d dwelling.
Ours is a life — the life of clowns,
Or drones who vegetate in towns.
Ear, far excelling !
Voir, c'est avoir ! allons courir !
Vie errante
Est chose enivrante ;
Voir, c'est avoir ! allons courir !
Car tout voir c'est toutconquerir.
Paddock and park, fence and enclo-
sure,
We scale with ease and vrith compo-
sure :
'Tis quite delightful!
Such is our empire's mystic charm,
We are the owners of each farm,
More than the rightful.
Mais k I'homme on orie en tout Great is the foUy of the wise,
Ueu, If on relations he relies,
Qu'il s'agite. Or trusts in men ;
Ou croupisse au gite ; ' Welcome !' they say, to babes bora
Mais a rhomme on crie en tout newly,
Ueu, But when your life is eked out duly,
Tu nais, " bonjour !" tu meurs, ' Good evening !' ftien.
"adieu!"
Quand nous mourons, vieui ou Kone among us seeks to Ulude
bambin. By empty boast of brotherhood,
Homme ou femme, Or false affection ;
A Dieu soit notre ^me ; Give, when we die, our souls to God,
Quand nous sommes morts, vieus Our body to the grassy sod,
ou bambin, Or ' for dissection.'
On vend le corps au carabin.
THE SONGS or FEANCB. 295
Mais CToyez en notre gaiet^. Tour noblemen may tali of vassals.
Noble ou pretre, Proud of their trappings and their
Valet ou maitre ; tasBels j
Mais croyez en notre gaiete. But never heed them ;
Le bonheur c'est la liberie. Our's is the life of perfect bliss —
^Freedom is man's best joy, and this
Is PEEPEOT EBEEDOM !"
This gipsy code, in wisdom far outshining the " Pandects,"
the " Digest," or the " Code Napoleon," is submitted to the
disciples of Jeremy Bentham, as a guide whenever an experi-
ment in anima vili is fairly to be made on the " vile body" of
existing laws, by the doctors of destruction.
To arrive at this millennium is not an easy matter, and
the chances are becoming every day more unfavourable. The
relish of mankind for experimental innovation is dull in these
latter days ; and great are the trials, lamentable the dis-
appointments that await the apostles of popular enlighten-
ment. " Co-operative theories" in England have gone to the
grave unwept, iinsung ; while in America Bob Owen's music
of " New Harmony," instead of developing its notes
" In many a bout
Of linked sweetness long drawn out,"
has snapped off most abruptly.
In Prance, after years of change, and the throes of con-
stant convulsion, the early dream of young philosophy is stUl
unrealised, and the shade of Anacharsis Clootz wanders
through the " Elysian fields" dejected and dissatisfied. The
son of Egalitfe fiUs her throne, and the monarchy has lost
nothing of its controlling power, whatever it may have ac-
quired of homeliness and vulgarity. The vague and confused
ravings of 1790, after three years' saturnalia, aptly termi-
nated in the demoniac rule of, and became incarnate in, Eo-
bespierre. The subsequent years condensed themselves into
the substantive shape of military despotism, with the re-
deeming feature of glory in arms, and " all the walks of war."
That too passed away, a lull came o'er the spirit of the demo-
cratic dream, while old Louis XVIII. nodded in that elbow-
chair which answered all the purposes of a throne ; the im-
becile Charles furnished too tempting an opportunity, and
it was seized with the avidity of truant schoolbovs who get
296 PATHEE peotjt's eemques. ,
up a " barring out ;" but the triumph of the barricades met
dim eclipse and disastrous twilight, the citizen king's opaque
form arose between the soleil de Juillet and the disappointed
republicans casting an ominous shade over the land of frogs.
Still loud and incessant is the croaking of the dissatisfied
tenants of the swamp, little knowing ( pauvres gtenouiUes .')
that, did not some such dense body interpose between the
scorching luminary of July and their liquid dwelling, they
would be parched, burnt up, and annihilated in the glow of
republican fervour. Even so Aristophanes pictures Charon
and his unruly mob, who refuse to cease their querulous
outcry, though threatened with the splashing oar of the
ferryman :
AXKa ii,ri\i xsxga^o//,i(!6a, y'
'O'TToaov ri (pa^uy^ av rifjiuv
Barga;^. Act i. Scene 5.
" In our own quagmire, 'tia provoking
That folks should think to stop our croaking !
Sons of the swamp, with lungs of leather,
Now is our time to screech together !"
But I lose time in these extra-parochial discussions ; and
therefore, leaving them to chorus it according to their own
view of the case, I return to the arbiter of song — B6ranger.
!None of the heroes who accomplished this last revolution
felt their discomfiture more than our poet, whose ideas are
cast in the mould of Spartan republicanism. He resigns
himself with philosophic patience to the melancholy result ;
and,, indeed, if I may judge from a splendid embodying of
his notions concerning Providence and the government of
this sublunary world, m an ode, which (though tinged some-
what with Deism) contains impassioned poetic feeling, I
should think that he still finds comfort in the retrospect of
his own individual sincerity and disinterestedness. There
is less of the Sybarite, however,' in his philosophy than may
be found in another " bard" who in
" pleasure's soft dreata
Has tried to forget what he never could heal."
THE SONeS OF TBANCE. 297
Ee Situ tiei ionnti &gn3*
H est un Dieu ; devant lui je m'incliue,
Pauvre et content, sans lui demander rien.
De I'lmivers obserfant la machine,
J'y vois du mal, et n'aime que le bien ;
Mais le plaisir k ma phUoBophie
EevMe assez de oieux iatelHgens.
le verre en main, gaiement je me confie
Au Dieu des bonnes gens t
Dans mon rednit oil Ton voit I'indigence
Sans m.'evpiller assise k mou chevet,
Grace aux amours berce par I'esp&ance,
D'un Ht plus doux je reve le duvet ;
Aux dieux des cours qu'un autre sacrifie —
Moi, qui ne crois qu'i des dieux indulgens,
Le verre en main, gaiement je me confie
Au Dieu des bonnes gens !
TJn conqu&ant, dans sa fortune altiere,
Se fit un jeu des sceptres et des roia ;
Et de ses piede Ton peut voir la poussifere
Empreint^ eucor aur le bandeau des rois ;
Vous rampiez tons, O rois ! qu'on deifie —
Moi, pour braver des maitres exigeaua,
Le verre en main, gaiement je me confie
Au Dieu des bonnes gens !
Dans nos palaie, oil pree de la victoire
BriUaient les arts, doux fruits des beaux climats,
J'ai vu du nord lea peuplades aans gloire
De leurs manteaux secouer lea frunats :
Sur noa debria Albion noua defie ;
Mais la fortune et lea flots sont changeans —
Le verre en main, gaiement je me confie
Au Dieu des bonnes gens 1
Quelle menace un prStre fait entendre ?
Nous touchons tons a nos demiers instans j
L'etemit^ va se faire comprendre,
Tout va finir I'univers et le tems :
Vous, ch^rubins, I la face bouffie,
EeveiUez, done les morts peu dUigens —
Le verre en main, gaiement je me confie
Au Dieu des bonnes gens I
29S FATHEE PBOUT's EELIQUES.
Mais, quelle en'eur ! non, Dieu n'est pas colore }
8'il orea tout, 4 tout il sert d'appui.
Vins qu'il nous donne, amiti^ tut^laire,
Et Tous, amours, qui orees aprSs lui,
PrStez un charme h ma phUoBophie,
Pour dissiper des rgres affligeans ! —
Le yerre en main, gaiemeut je me confie
Au Dieu des bonnes gen* I
Wtft Sou of iSernngtr.
There's a Q-od whom the poet in silence adores,
But molests not his throne with importunate prayer ;
For he knows that the evil he sees and abhors,
There is blessing to balance, and balm to repair.
But the plan of the Deity beams in the bowl,
And the eyeUd of beauty reveals his design :
Oh ! the goblet in hand, I abandon my soul
To the Giver of genius, love, friendship, and wine !
At the door oi my dwelling the children of want
Ever find the full welcome its roof can afford !
While the dreams of the rich pain and poverty haunt,
Peace awaits on my pillow, and joy at my board.
Let the god of the court other votaries seek —
No ! the idol of sycophants never was mine ;
But I worship the God of the lowly and meek,
In the Giver of genius, love, friendship, and wine !
I have seen die a captive, of courtiers bereft.
Him, the sound of whose fame through our hemisphere rings ;
I have marked both his rise and his faE : he has left
The imprint of his heel on the forehead of kings.
Oh, ye monarchs of Europe ! ye crawled round his throne —
Ye, who now claim our homage, then knelt at his shrine j
But I never adored him, but tiumed me alone
To the Giver of genius, love, friendship, and wine I
The Eussians have dwelt in the home of the Frank ;
In our haUs from their mantles they've shaken the frost ;
Of their war-boots our Louvre has echoed the clank,
As they passed, in barbarian astonishment lost.
O'er the ruins of Prance, take, O England ! take pride !
Yet a simiLar downfal, proud land ! may be thine ;
But the poet of freedom stiU, siill will confide.
In the Giver of genius, love, friendship, and wine !
This planet is doomed, by the priesthood's decree,
To deserved dissolution one day, O ! my frieudjs ;
Lo ! thfi hurricane gathers j the bolt is set free !
And the thunder on wings of destruction descends.
'Dans Tin'gtenier qu'on est 'bieu a vitigt axis"
J'a^e299^
THE SONGS or rKANCE. 299
Of thy trumpet, archangel, delay not the blast ;
Wake the dead in the graves where their ashes recline :
While the poet, unmoved, puts his trust to the last
In the &iver of genius, love, friendship, and wine !
But away with the night-mare of gloomy forethought !
Let the goul Superstition creep back to its den ;
Oh ! this fair goodly globe, filled with plenty, was wrought
By a bountiful hand, for the children of men.
Let me take the full scope of my years as they roll,
Let me bask in the sun's pleasant rays whilp they shine j
Then, with goblet in hMid, I'll abandon my so;ul
To the Giver of genius, love, friendship,, and wine !
Whatever may be the failings and errors of our poet, due
to the disastrous days on which his youth has fallen, there
is discernible ill his writings the predominant character of
his mind-^frankness, single-heartedness, and candour. It
is impossible not "to entertain a friendly feelrag towards
such a man; and I am not sxirprised to learn that he is
cherished by the French people. .with> a fervency akin to
idolatry. He is no tuft-hunter, nor Whigling sycophant,
nor trafficker in his merchandise of song. Neither has he
sought to cbiivert his patriotism itito an engine for picking
the pockets of the jbor. He has set up no pretensions to
nobility ; although, he could no doubt trump up a story of
Norman ancestry', tad convert some old farm-house on the
sea-coast into an ".abbey." It is not.with the affect9,tion
of a svraidUng dem,agpguei but with the heartfelt cordiality
of one of themselves, that hfe gloriesi iu belonging to the
people. What poet blit B^ranger ever thought of comme-
morating ^^? (j'flr'^ef where he spent his earlier days ?
Ee (©itnttt Ue 33«rangfr. Cl)e ©arret of ^ trail gtr.
Je reviens yoir I'asyle o5i ipa jeunesse Oh! it was here that Love hie
De la misSire a Bubi les U90ns': ■ gifts bestowed
J'avais vingt aus, une folle maitresse. On youth's wild age !
De francs amis, et I'amour des chan- Gladly once more I seek my
sons ; youth's abode,
Bravant le monde, et les sots, et Ifis In pilgrimage :
" sages. Here my young mistress with her
Sans avenir, riche de mon printems, poet dared
Leste et joyeux, je montais six ftages — Eeckless to dwell :
I)ans un grenier qu'on est bien i. vingt She was sixteen, I twenty, and
ane ! we shared
This attic cell.
300 PATHEE PEOTTT'S EEI/IQrES.
C'est iin grenier, point ne veux qu'on Yes, 'twas a garret ! be it known
rignore : to all,
L^ flit mon lit, bien ebetif et bien Here was love's shrine :
dur ; There read, in charcoal traced
U, fat ma table ; et je retrouve encore along the wall,
Trois pieds d'lm vera charbonn& Th' unftniahed line —
sur le mur. Here was the board where kin-
Apparaisaez, plaiaira de mon bel Age, dred hearts would blend.
Que d'un coup d'ceil a fiistig6 la The Jew can tell
tema ! How oft I pawned my watch, to
Vingt fois pour vous j'ai mis ma mon- feast a friend
tre en gage — In attio cell !
Dans un g/enier qu'on est bien h, vingt
ana!
Lisette ici doit surtout apparaitre, O ! my Lisette's fair form could
Vive, jolie, avec un frais chapeau ; I recall
D6jk aa main a I'^troite fenStre With fairy wand !
Suspend aon schale en guise de ri- There she woidd blind the win-
deau : dow vrith her shawl —
Sa robe auasi va parer ma couchette — Baahfiil, yet fond !
Eespecte, Amour ! sea plia longa et What though from whom she got
flottans : her dress I've since
J'ai su depuia qui payait sa toilette — Learnt but too well,
Dana un grenier qu'on est bien & Still in those days I envied not
vingt ans ! a prince
In attic cell !
A table un jour, jour de grande rich- Eere the glad tidings on our
eaae, banquet burst,
De mea amis les voix briUaient en Mid the bright bowls :
choeur, Yes, it was here Maiengo's tri-
Quand jusqu'ici monte un cri d'al^- umph first
gresse. Kindled our souls !
Qu'k Marengo Bonaparte est vain- Bronze cannon roared j Prance
queur ! vrith redoubled might
Le canon gronde — un autre chant Pelt her heart swell !
commence — Proudly we drank our consul's
Nous cel^brons tant de faits ^clatans ; health that night
Les rois jamais n'envahiront la In attio ceE !
Prance —
Dans un grenier qu'on est bien k
vingt ans !
Quittona ce toit, oil ma raison s'e- Dreams of my joyful youth! I'd
nivre — freely give,
Oh, qu'ils sont loin ces joura ai re- Ere my Ufe's cloae,
grettes ! All the dml days I'm destined
J'^changerai ce qu'il me reste a vivre yet to live,
Centre un des jours qu'ici Dieum'a For one of those !
compt^s,
THE SONGS OF I'EANCE. 301
Pour rfever gloire, amour, plaisir, folie, Where sliall I now find raptures
Pour depenser sa vie en peu d'in- that were felt,
stans, Joys that befell,
D'un long espoir pour la Toir em- Audhopes thatdawnedattwenty,
beUie — when I dwelt
Dans un grenier qu'on est bien k In attic cell ?
ringt ans !
Nothing can offer a more ludicrous image to the dispas-
sionate observer of passing transactions, than the assump-
tion of radical politics by some men whose essential nature
is thoroughly imbued with contempt for the mob, while
they are straining every nerve to secure its sweet voices. I
could name many who assume such sentiments respecting
the distinctions of hereditary rank in this country, yet
would feel very acutely the deprivation of the rank and
name they bear, or an inquiry into the devious and questi-
onable title by which they retain them. The efforts they
make to conceal their private feelings before the multitude
recall a hint addressed»to some " republicans who paraded
the streets of Paris ia 1793 :
" Mais enfoncez dans vos culottes
Le bout de Hnge qui pend !
On dira que les patriotes
Out deploy^ le ' drapeau blanc.'"
Autobiography is the rage. John Q-alt, the Ettrick Hogg,
the English Opium-eater, Sir Egerton Brydges, Jack Ketch,
GT3,nt-Thorburn, and sundry other personages, have lately
adorned this department of our literature. In his song, the
" Tailor and the Eairy," B^ranger has acquitted himself of
a task indispensable in modern authors. He was born tho
same year as T. Moore, 1780.
He Catllcur tt la ;ffte.
Dans ce Paris, plein d'or et de mis&re.
En Pan du Christ mil sept cent quatre-vingt,
Chez uu taiUeur, mon pauvre et vieux grand-pfere,
Moi nouTeau-n4 sachez ce qui m'advint.
Bien ne predit la gloire d'un Orphee
A mon berceau, qui u'etait pas de fleurs ;
Mais mon grand-pere, accourant k mes pleurs,
Me trouve un jour dans les bras d'une fee. ,
Et oette fee, arec de gais refrains,
Calmait le cri de mes premiers chagnnB
302 PATHEB PEOTTT'S EELIQUES.
" Le bon viellard lai dit ; L'3,me inquifete !
A oet enfant quel destin est promis ?"
Elle r^pond : " Vois le sous ma baguette,
Gar^on d'auberge, imprimeur, et commis ;
TJn coup de foudre* ajoute h, mes presages —
Ton file atteint, ra pferir consume ;
Dieu le regarde, et I'oiseau rauime
Vole en chantant brarer d'autres orages.''
Et puis la fee, avec de gais refrains,
Calmait le cri de mes premiers chagrins.
" Tons les plaisirs, sylphes de la jeunesse,
Eveilleront sa lyre au sein des nuits ;
Au toit du pauvre il r^pand I'al^gresse,
A Topulence U saure des ennuis.
Mais quel spectacle attriste son langage ?
Tout s'engloutit et gloire et Uberte !
Comme un peeheur qui rentre ^pourante,
H yient au port reconter leur naufrage."
Et puis la fee, aveo de gais refrains,
Calmait le cri de mes premiers chagrins."
Wi)t ^utobfograpl^j of P. §. De JScranger.
Paris ! gorgeous abode of the gay ! Paris ! haunt of despair !
There befell in thy bosom one day an occurrence most weighty.
At the house of a tailor, my grandfather, under whose care
I was nursed, in the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and eighty.
By no token, 'tis true, did my cradle announce a young Horace —
And the omens were such as might well lead astray the unwary 5
But with utter amazement one morning my grandfather, Maurice,
Saw his graudchUd reclining asleep in the arms of a fairy !
And this fairy so handsome
Assumed an appearance so striking.
And for me seemed to take such a liking,
That he knew not what gift he should offer the dame for my ransom.
Had he previously studied thy Legends, O rare Crofty Croker !
He'd have leamt how to act from thy pages — ('tis there that the
charm is !)
But my guardian's first impulse was rather to look for the poker,
To rescue his beautiful boy from her hands vi et armis.
* Beranger tells us in a note, that in early life he had well nigh pe-
rished by the electric fluid in a thunder-storm. The same is relate^ of
Luther, when at the university. The flash which, in Luther's case,
changed tlie student into a monk, in Beranger's converted the tailor's
goose into a swan. — Pbobt.
THE SONGS OP FEANCB. 303
Yet he paused in his plan, and adopted a milder suggestion,
For her attitude, cairn and unterrified, made him respect her
So he thought it was best to be civil, and fairly to question,
Concerning my prospects in life, the benevolent spectre.
And the fairy, prophetical,
Bead my destinjr's book in a minute,
With all the particulars in it :
And its outline she drew with exactitude most geometrical.
" His career shall he mingled with pleasure, though chectered with pain
And some bright sunny hours shall succeed to a rigorous winter i
See him first a garfon at a hostelry — then, with disdain
See him spurn that vile craft, and apprentice himself to a printer.
As a poor university-clert view him nest at his desk ; —
Mark that ilash ! — he wiU have a most narrow escape from the hght-
ning :
But behold after sundry adventures, some bold, some grotesque.
The horizon clears up, and his prospects appear to be brightening."
And the fairy, caressing
The infant, foretold that, ere long.
He would warble um?ivalled in song ;
All IVance in the homage which Paris had paid acquiescing.
" Yes, the muse has adopted the boy ! On his brow see the laurel !
In his hand 'tis Anaoreon's cup ! — ^with the &reek he has drank it.
Mark the high-minded tone of his songs, and their exquisite moral.
Giving joy to the opttage, and heightening the blaze of the banquet.
Now the fiiture grows dark — see the spectacle France has become !
IVIid the wreck of his country, the poet, undaunted and proud.
To the public complaints shall give utterance : slaves may be dumb,
But he'U ring in the hearing of despots defiance aloud !"
And the fairy addressing
jVIy grandfather, somewhat astonished.
So mildly my guardian admonished.
That he wept while he vanished away with a smUe and a blessing.
Such, is the man whose works will form the most enduring
monument of the literature of Trance during the first
quarter of the nineteenth century. It is the pride of my
old age to have recorded in these " papers" my admiration
of this extraordinary writer ; and when, at a future period,
commentators and critics shall feed on his ever- verdant pages,
and disport themselves in the leaves of his immortal poetry,
it will be perhaps mentioned by some votary of recondite
lore, that an obscure clergyman, on a barren Irish hill,
made the first efi'ort to transplant hither some slips of that ,
luxuriant tree ; though he fears that, -like the " mulberry,"
304 TATHBE PBOVt's EELIQTJES.
it cannot be naturalized in these islands, and must still con-
tinue to form the exclusive boast and pride of a happier
climate.
Next to the songster-laureate of Prance, posterity wiU
haU in Victor Hugo the undoubted excellence of original
thought, arid the gift of glowing expression. Before these
two lofty minds the minor poets, Lamartine and Chateau-
briand, will sink into comparative insignificance. Thus
Burns and Byron will be remembered and read when Bob
Montgomery and Haynes Bayly will be swept away with
the coteries who applauded them. " Opinionum commenta
delet dies," quoth the undying Tully ; " naturae judicja con-
firmat." But, after all, what is fame ? It is a question
that often recurs to me, dwelling frequently, in sober pen-
siveness, on the hollow futility of human pursuits, and pon-
dering on the narrow extent of that circle which, ia its
widest possible diffusion, renown can hope to fill here below.
Never has a Pagan writer penned a period more replete with
Christian philosophy than the splendid passage which me-
mory brings me here in the natural succession of serious
reflections that crowd on my miud : — " Igitur altfe spectare
si voles, et aetemam domum contueri, neque te sermonibus
vulgi dederis, neque in prsemiis humanis spem posueris rerum
tuarum. Quid de te alii loquantur, ipsi videant ; loquentur
tamen. Sermo autem omnis ille et angustiis cingitur iis
regionum quas vides ; nee unquam de ullo perennis fuit ; et
obruitur hominum interitu ; et oblivione posteritatis extin-
guitur !" — Cic. Som. Scip.
To return to Victor Hugo. It would be unpardonaile in
me to have written a series of papers on the " Songs of
!France," and not to have given some specimens of his re-
fined and delicate compositions. Hugo does not address
himself so much to the popular capacity as his energetic
contemporary : he is a scholar, and seeks " fitting audience,
though few." The lyrical pieces, however, which I sub>
join, will be felt by all in their thrilling appeal to our sen'-
sibilities.
Though I do not regret the space I have devoted to the
beauties of B^ranger, it is still with a feeling of embarrass-
ment that I bring forward thus late, and towards the close
of my lucubrations on this interesting subject, so deserving
THE SONGS OF rEAITCE. 305
a claimant on the notice of the public. Be that as it may,
here goes ! and, gentle reader, thou hast before thee two
gems of the purest water. The first is an Oriental emerald.
Ee Toile. ®rientale.
Victor Hugo,
" Avez-vous fait votre pri&re ce Boir, Desd^mona ?" — Shakespeare.
LA B(BUR. LA S(EUR.
Qu'avez-voTis, qu'avez-vous^ mes frferes? Qui? — peut-^.tre— mais eon andace
YouB baissez des fronts soucieux; N'a pas tu mes traita devoiles. —
Comme des lampes fun^raires Mais youb tous parlez k voix basse t
Vos regards brillent dans vos yeux. A voix basse vous vous parlez 1
VoB ceinturea sont d&chirdea I Vous fautril du sang ? sur votre fime,
D6jk trois folB hors de I'^tui, Mes frferes, il n'a p& me voir.
Sous vos doigts ^ demi tirfees, Grftce I Tuerez-vous une femme,
Les lames des poignards out lui. Foible et nue^ en votre ponvoir ?
LE FHERE AINE, LE TROISIEMB FEEEE.
N'avez-vous pas lev& votre voile aujourd'- Le soleil fitait rouge k son coucher ce soirl
bui?
LA SCSUB. LA BCEUR.
Je revenais du bain, mes frdres ; Grfice ! qu'ai-je fait ? GrSce ! gr&ce !
Seigneurs, du bain je revenaig, Dieu 1 quatre poignards dans mon flanc I
Cached aux regards temeraires Ah ! par vos genoux que j'embrasse —
Des Giaours et des Albanais. Oh, mon voile I oh, mon voile blanc I
En passant pr^s de la mosque^, Ne fuyez pas mes mains qui saignent,
Dans mon palanquin reconvert, Mes fr^res, soutenez mes pas I
L'air de midi m'a BufiToqu^e, Gar sur mes regards qui B'^teignent
Mon voile un instant s'est ouvert. S'^tend un voile de trSpas.
LB SECOND FKEBE. LE QTTATBIBaiE FRERE.
tTchomme alors passait? un bomme en G'enestunque du moinB tu ne leveras
caftan vert? pas I
Ci^c 'Ftil. ^n (©riental ©iaiogue.
Victor Hugo.
"Have you pray'd to-night, Desdemona?"— Shakespeare.
THE SISTEE.
What has happened, my hrothers ? Your spirit to day
Some secret sorrow damps ;
. There's a cloud on your brow. What has happened? oh, say !
For your eyeballs glare out with a sinister ray,
Like the light of funeral lamps.
The blades of your poniards are half-unsheathed
In your zone — and ye frown on me !
There's a woe untold, there's a pang imbreathed,
In your bosom, my brothers three !
306 TATHBE PEOTTt's EELIQTJES.
EEDE9T BBOTHEB.
O-ulnara, make answer ! Hast thou, since the dawn.
To the eye of a stranger thy veil -witbdraTm ?
TEE BISTEB.
As I came, O my brothers ! — at noon — from the bath-
As I came — it waa noon — my lords —
And your sister had then, as she constantly hath,
Drawn her veil close around her, aware that the path
Is beset by these foreign hordes.
But the weight of the noonday's sultry hour
'Near the mosque was so oppressive,
That — forgetting a moment the eye of the Giaour—
I yielded to heat excessive.
SECOITD BEOTHEE.
Ghilnara, make answer ! Whom, then, hast thou seen.
In a turban of white, and a caftan of green ?
THE SISTEE.
Nay, he might have been there ; but I muffled me so,
He could scarce have seen my figure.
But why to your sister thus dark do you grow ?
Wliat words to yourselves do you mutter thus low,
Of " blood," and " an intriguer ?"
Oh ! ye cannot of murder bring down the red guilt
On your souls, my brothers, surely !
Though I fear — from your hand that I see on the hilt.
And the hints you give obscurely.
THIED BEOTHEK.
Ghilnara ! tiiis evening when sank the red sun,
Hast thou marked how like blood in descending it shone f
THE SISTEE.
Mercy ! Allah ! three daggers ! have pity I oh, spare !
See ! I cHng to your knees repenting !
Kind brothers, forgive me ! for mercy, forbear !
Be appeased at the voice of a sister's despair,
For your mother's sake relenting.
O Q-od ! must I die ? They are deaf to my cries !
Their sister's life-blood shedding :
They have stabbed me again — and I faint — o'er my eyea
A Veil oi Death is spreading ! —
EtDEST BBOTHEE.
Qulnara, farewell ! take that veil ; 'tis the gift
Of thy brothers — a veil thou wilt never lift !
THE SON&S OF FEA.NCE.
307
Hugo, in tliis Eastern scene, as well as in his glorious ro-
mance of " Notre Dame de Paris," seems to take delight in
harrowing up our feeliags by the invariably sad catastrophe
of all his love adventures. The chord of sympathy for
broken affections and shattered hearts seems to be a favour-
ite one with this mighty master of the Grallie lyre. Has. gr.
Ea dfiancte tlu Cimbaltcr. Wc^t JSrttle of \^t Cgmbalttr.
Viator Hugo.
Monseigneur, le Duo de Bretagne,
A pour les combats meutriers,
Convoque de Nante ^ Mortagne,
Dans la plaiue, et sur la campagne,
X'arriere-bau de ses guerriers.
Ce 8ont des barons, dont les armes
Ornentdes forts ceints d'unfoss^.
Dee preux vieillis dans les alarmes,
Des &uyers, des hommes d' armes —
L'un d'eutre eux est mon fiaince.
II est parti pom? I'Aquitaine
Comme timbalier, et pourtant
On le prend pour un capitaine,
Rien qu'^ voir sa mine hautaine,
Et son pourpoint d'or eclatant.
Depuis ce jour I'effroi m'agite ;
J'aidit,joignaut son sort au mien,
" Ma patronne, Sainte Brigitte,
Pour que jamais il ne le quitte,
Sui-veillez son ange gai:dieu !"
J'ai dit Jk notre abb^, " Messire,
Priezbienpourtousnos soldats!"
Et comme on S9ait qu'il le- desire,
J'ai brfile trois cierges de cire
Sur la chSsse de Saint Gildas.
A Notre Dame de Lorette
J'ai promis, dams mon noir cha-
grin,
D'attacher sur ma gorgerette,
TermSe ^ la vue indisorette,,
Les coquilles du pelerin.
A Ballad.
My Uege, the Duke of Brittany,
Has summon' d bis vaasals all.
The list is a lengthy litany !
Nor 'mong them shall ye meet any
But lords of land and hall.
Baroms, who dwell in donjon-keep,
And maQ-cIad count and peer,
Whose fief is fenced with fosse
deep ;
But none excel in soldiership
My own loved cymbaleer.
Clashing his cymbals forth he went.
With a bold and gallant bearing ;
Sure for a captain he was meant.
To judge from his accoutrement,
AJaA. the cloth of gold he's weair-
ing.
But in my soul since then I feel
A fear, in secret creeping ;
And to Saint Bridget oft I kneel.
That she may recommend' bis weal
To his guardian angel's keeping.
I've begged oiar abbot, Bemardine,
His prayers not to relax ;
And, to procure him aid divine,
I've burnt upon Saint Qilda's shi-ine
Three pounds of virgin wax.
Our Lady of Loretto knows
The pilgrimage I vow'd :
" To wear the scollop I propose,
If health and safety from the foes
My lover is aUavi'd2'
308
rATHEE peotjt's eeliques.
II n'a pu, par d'amoureux gages,
Absent, consoler mes foyers ;
Pour porter les tendres messages
La Tassale n'a point de pages,
Le vassal n'a point d'gcuyers.
II doit aujourd'hui de la guerre
Revenir avec monseigneiu' —
Ce n'est plus un amant Tulgaire ;
Je leve un front baissg nagu^re,
Et mou orgueil est du bonheur.
Le due triomphaut, nous rapporte
Son drapeau dans les camps
froissfi ;
Venez tous, sous la vieille porte,
Voir passer la brillante escorte,
Et le prince et mon fiance !
Venez Toir, pour ce jour de fete.
Son cheTal caparayonS ;
Qui sous son poids hennit, s'arr^te,
Et marohe en secouant la t^te,
De plumes rouges couronn^.
Mes soeurs, Si vous parer trop lentes,
Venez voir, pr^s, de mon vain-
queur,
r!es tim bales 6tincelantes
Qui, sous sa main toujours trem-
blfintes,
Sonnent, et font boudir le coeur.
Venez surtout le Toir lui-meme.
Sous le manteau que jai brod^ !
Qu'il sera beau! C'est lui que
j'aime ;
II porte comme un diademe
Son casque de crins inondes !
L'Egyptienne sacrilege,
M'attirant derri6re un piUer,
M'a dit bien (Dieu me protege !)
No letter (fond affection's gage !)
Prom him could I require,
The pain of absence to assuage—
A Tassal-maid can have no page^
A liegeman has no squire.
This day will witness, with the
duke's,
My cymbaleer's return :
GHadness and pride beam in my
looks.
Delay my heart impatient brooks,
All meaner thoughts I spurn.
Back from the battle-field elate.
His banner brings each peer j
Come, let us see, at the ancient
gate,
The martial triumph pass in state,
And the duke and my cymbaleer.
We'll see fiiom the rampart-walls of
Nantz
What an air his horse assumes ;
His proud neck swells, his glad
hoofs prance.
And on his head unceasing dance,
In a gorgeous tuft, red plumes !
Be quick, my sisters ! dress in
haste!
Come, see him bear the bell,
With laurels deck' d, with true-lote
graced ;
While in his bold hand, fitly placed,
The bounding cymbals swell !
Mark well the mantle that he'll
wear.
Embroider' d by his Jbride.
Admire his burnish'd helmet's
glare,
O'ershadow'd by the dark horse-
hair
That waves in jet folds wide !
The gipsy (spiteful wench!) foretold
With voice like a viper hissing,
(Though I had croas'd her ps3m
with gold),
THE SON&S OP TBANCE.
309
Qu'k. la fanfare du oort&ge
II manquerait un timbalier,
Mais j'ai tant pri^ que j'espfere.
Quoique, me montrant de la main
Un sepulcre, son noir repaire,
La TieiUe, aux regards de vipfire,
M'ait dit je I'attends ]k demain.
Volous r pltis de noires pens&s !
Ce sont les tambours que j'en-
tends!
Yoici les dames entassees,
Les tentes de pourpre dressees,
Les fleurs et les drapeaux flottans!
Sur deux rangs le cortege ondoie :
D'abord, les piquiers aux pas
lourds ;
Puis, sous r^tendard qu'on deploie,
Les barons, en robes de soie,
Avec leurs toques de velours.
Voiei les chasubles des pr§tres ;
Lesherauts sur un blanccoursier;
Tous, en souTenir des ancetres,
Portent I'eeuBson de leurs maltres
Peint sur leur corselet d'acier.
Admirez I'armure Persanne
Des Templiers, craints del'enfer;
Et, sous la longue pertuisane,
Les archers veins de Lausanne,
VStus de buffle, armfe de fer.
Le due n'est pas loin : ses bannieres
Flottent parmi les chevaliers j
Quelques enseignes prisonniSres,
Honteuses, passent les demi^res.
Mes soBurs! voicilestimbaUers!"
Elle dit, et sa vue errante
Plonge, helas! dans les rangs
Xhat from the rauks a spirit bold
Would be to-day found missing.
But I have pray'd so hard, I trust
Her words may prove untrue j
Though in her cave the hag accurst
Mutter'd " Prepare thee for the,
worst!"
With a face of ghastly hue.
My joy her spells shall not prevent.
Hark I I can hear the drums !
And ladies fair from silken tent
Peep forth, and every eye is bent
On the cavalcade that comes !
Puis, dans la foule indifferente
Elle tomba, froide et mourante !-
Les timbaliers etaicnt passes.
Pikemen, dividing on both flanks.
Open the pageantry ;
Loud, as they tread, their armour
clanks,
And silk-robed barons lead the
ranks.
The pink of gallantry !
Li scarfs of gold, the priests admire ;
The herald on white steeds ;
Armorial pride decks their attire.
Worn in remembrance of a sire
Pamed for heroic deeds.
Fear'd by the Paynim's dark divan.
The Templars next advance ;
Then the brave bowmen of Lau-
sanne,
Foremost to stand in battle's van.
Against the foes of France.
Kext comes the duke with radiant
brow,
Girt with his cavaliers ;
Bound his triumphant banner bow
Those of the foe. Look, sisters,
now !
Now come the cymbaleers I"
She spoke — with searching eye sur-
vey'd
Their ranks — then pale, aghast,
Sunk in the crowd ! Death came
in aid —
'Twas mercy to that gentle maid ;
The cymbaleers had pass'd!"
310
FATHEE PROri's EELIQTJES.
By way of contrast to the Gothic reminiscences of the
olden time, and the sentimental delicacy of the foregoing^
ballad, I subjoin a modern description of Grallic chivalry, —
a poetical sketch of contemporary heroism. Nothing can be
more striking than the change which seems to have come
over the spirit of the military dreams of the French since
the days of Lancelot and Bayard, if we are to adopt this
as an authentic record of their present sentiments in mat-
ters of gallantry. I cannot tell who the author or authoress
of the following dithyramb may be ; but I have taken it
down as I have heard it sung by a fair girl who would some-
times condescend to indulge an old cilibataire with a snatch
of merry music.
%a Cantere iiMtlttatre
En France,
Ah, le bel etat !
Que Viiaii de soldat !
Battre, aimer, chanter, et boire —
Voila toute notre histoire !
Et, ma foi,
Moi je crois
Que cet etat-ll vaut bieu
Celui de tant de gens qui ne font
rien!
Yainquers, entrons-nous dans une
fille?
Les autorit^s et les habitans
Nous viennent, d'uue fa90U fort
civile,
Ouvrir les portes k ^eux battans :
O'est tout au plus s'Hs sont con-
tens ;
Mais o'est tout de meme —
H faut qu'on nous aime —
Ban, tan, plan !
Ou bien qu'on en fasae semblant.
Puis quandvient le clairde lune,
Chacun choisit sa chacune.
En quAlite de conquSrant.
Ban, tan, plan !
Ah, le bel £tat, etc.
In France.
Oh, the pleasant life a soldier leads 1
Let the lawyer count his fees,
Let old women teU their beads,
Let each booby squire breed cattle,
if he please,
Ear better 'tis, I' think,
To make love, fight, and drink.
Odds boddekin !
Such life makes a man to a god
akin.
Do we enter any town ?
The portcuUis is let down.
And the joy-bells are rung by mu-
nicipal authority ;
The gates are opeu'd wide,
And the city-keys presented us
beside.
Merely to recognize our vast supe-
riority.
The married citizens, 'tis ten to
one,
Woiild wish US fairly gone ;
But we stay while it suit^ our good
pleasure.
Then each eve, at the rising of the
moon.
The fiddler strikes up a merry tune,
We meet a buiom partnerf uJlBOon,
And we foot it to a military measure.
[Chorus ofdruim.
THE SONBS or FBANCE.
311
Mais c'est quand nous quittons la
viUe
Qu'il faut voir I'effet des adieux ;
Et toutes les femmes h, la file
Se lamenter iquimieux.mieiix —
C'est uue riviere que leurs yeux.
" Eeviens t'en bien vite !"
Oui da, ma petite !
Le plus souvent,
lie plus souvent,
Je ne suis pas pour le sentiment.
Ban, tan, plan !
Vive le regiment I
Et pvds lorsqu'en maraude,
Chacun r6de alentour ;
On va, le sabre a la main, en
fraude,
Paire la chasse k la basse-cour.
Faut bien que chaque victime ait
son tour —
Foulles innocentes !
Interessantes !
Sans retour ! sans retour !
Helas ! toUeL votre dernier jour !
Ban, tan, plan!
Cot ! cot ! cot ! la sentinelle
Vous appele !
EUes passent la tete et caquetant,
Et s'en vent a la broche du regi-
ment.
Puis, a notre retour en France,
Chaque village, en goguette, en
danse,
Nous re^oit, coeur et tambour bat-
tans —
Tic, tac, ran, tan, plan !
En I'honneur du regiment.
Ah, le bel etat !
Que r^tat de soldat !
When our garrison at last gets " the
rout,"
Wlio can adequately tell
The regret of the fair all the city
throughout,
And the tone with ■which they bid
us "farewell?"
Their tears would make a flood — a
perfect river :
And, to soothe her despair.
Bach disconsolate maid entreats of
us to give her,
Ere we go, a single lock of our hair.
Alas ! it is not often
That my heart can soften
Besponsive to the feelings of the fair !
[Chorus of drums.
On a march, when our gallant divi
sions
In the country make a halt,
Think not that we limit our provi-
sions
To Paddy's fare, "potatoes and
salt."
Could such beggarly cheer
Ever answer a French grenadier ?
Ifo ! we send a dragoon guard
To each neighbouring farm-
yard.
To collect the choicest pioMngs —
Turkeys, sucking-pigs, and chick-
ens.
For why should mere rustic rapscal-
lions
Fatten on such tit-bits,
Better suited to the spits
Of our hungry and valorous bat-
talions ?
But, oh ! at our return
To our dear native France,
Each village in its turn.
With music, and vdne, and merry
dance.
Forth on our joyful passage comes j
And the pulse of each heart beats
tidie to the drums.
[Chorus of drums.
Oh, the merry life a soldier leads !
312 I'ATHEE PEOTIT'S BELIQTTES.
The military songs of this merry nation are not all, how-
ever, of the light teitTire of the foregoing, in proof of which
I subjoin an elegy on Colonel de Beaumanoir, Idlled in the
defence of Pondicherry, when that last stronghold of French
power in India was beleagured by our forces under Coote.
Beaumanoir belonged to an old family in Brittany, and had
levied a regiment of his tenants and dependants to join the
unfortunate Lally Tolendal when he sailed for India, in
1749 : one of his retainers must have been the vn"iter of the
foUowiag lines descriptive of his hasty burial in the north
bastion of the fortress where he fell. Nor is it necessary to
add any translation of mine, the Rev. Mr. Wolfe having re-
produced them on the occasion of Sir John Moore's falling
at Corunna under similar circumstances.
Eed JFunerailled De 33eaumanotr.
Commonly known as " The Burial of Sir John Moore."
Ni le son du tambour ni la marche fanebre
Ni le feu des soldats ne marqua son trepas,
Mais du brave il la hate k travel's les tenebres
Mornes nous portS,mes le cadavre au rampart.
De minuit c'etait I'heure et solitaire et sombre
La lune offrait i peine un dubile rayon
La lanteme luisait peniblement dans 1' ombre
Quand de la bayonette on creusa le gazon.
D'inutile cercueil ni de drap funeraire,
Nous ne daignSmes point entourer le heros,
n gisait dans les plis du manteau militaire,
Comme un guerrier qui dort son heure de repos.
La priere qu'on fit fut de courte dur&e,
Nul ne parla de deuQ bien que le oceur fut plein,
Mais on fixait du mort la figure ador^e,
Mais avec amertume on songeait au demain,
Au demain quand ioi oil sa fosse s' apprete
Oil son humide lit on dresse aveo sanglots,
L' ennemi orgueilleux pourra fouler sa tSte,
Et nous ses veterans serons loin sur les flots.
lis temiront sa gloire ! on pourra les entendre
Nommer I'illustre mort d'un ton amer ou fol,
H les laissera dire, eh! qu' importe a sa eendre,
Que la main d'lm Breton a confiee au sol.
THE SONGS OP PEANCE. 313
L'oeuvre diirait encore quand retentit la oloelie,
Au sommet du Befroi et le canon lointain,
Tire par intervaEe en annon^ant I'approehe,
Signalait la fierte de I'ennemi hautain,
Et dans sa fosse alors le mimes lentement
Fres du champ oil sa gloire a et^ consommie,
Ne mismes a I'endroit nl pierre ni monument,
Le laiasant seul a seul arec sa renommee.
But my page is filling fast, and my.'appoiated measure is
nearly replenished. Adieu, then, to the " Songs of France !"
Eeminiscences of my younger .life L traditions . of poetic
Gaul ! language of impassioned feeling ! cultivated elegance
of ideas and imagery ! bold, gay, fantastic picturings of so-
cial existence ! — farewell ! Tou have been to me the source
of much enjoyment, much mental luxury, much intellectual
revelry, — farewell ! Tet' still, like Ovid quitting Eome for
Scythiai —
" Seepfe vale dio;ns, multitm sura deinde loeutusj ,
Bt quasi discedens oscula sumtna dedi :
Indulgens animo, pesmihi tardiis 'erat"^
loath to depart, I have once more opened the volume of the
enchanter, and must indulge myself iu' a last lingering look
at one — ^perhaps the loftiest of B^ranger's lays. It is ad-
dressed by him to a fair incognita ; but ia my vel-sion I have
taken the liberty of giving a more intelligible a,nd, I fear
not to add, more appropriate direction to the splendid
allegory.
A Corinne de L******.
Je veui pour vous prendre un toil moins frivole,
Corinne ! il fut des anges r^voltes :
Dieu sur leur front fait tomber sa parole,
Et dans l'abime.ils soht precipites,
Doux, mais fragile, un seul dans leur Aiine,
Contre ses maux garde un puissant secours,
H reste arme de sa lyre divine —
Ange aux yeux bleux, protegez-moi toujbiirs !
L'enfer miigit d'un effroyable rire,
Quand, d^goflte de I'orgueil des m^oHans,
L'ange, qui pleure en accordant sa lyre,
I'ait ^clater sea remords et ses chants.
314 TATHBE PEOTIT'B EELIQUES.
Dieu d'un regard rarrache au goui&e immonde,
Mais ici bas veut qu'il charme nos jours j
La Poesie enivrera le monde —
Ange aux yeux bleus, protegez-moi toujoura I
Vers nouB il vole, en secouant sea ailes,
Comme I'oiseau que I'orage a mouille ;
Soudain la terre entend des Toii nouvelles,
Maint peuple errant s'arr^te ^merreill^.
Tout culte alors n'etait que I'harmonie —
Aux cieui jamais Dieu ne dit, " Soyez sourds !"
L'antel s'fepure aux parfums du genie ! —
Ange aui yeux bleus, prot%ez-moi toujours !
En vain I'enfer, des clamenrs de I'envie,
Pourauit cet ange, ^chappe de oes rangs ;
De rhomme inculte il adouoit la Tie,
Et sous le dais montre au doigt les tyrans.
Tandis qu'^ tout sa Toix pr^tant des oharmes,
Court jusqu'au p61e eveiUer les amours ;
Dieu compte au ciel ce qu'E sfeohe de larmes ! —
Ange aux yeux bleus, protegez-moi toujours !
Qui peut me dire oil luit son aureole ?
De son exU Dieu I'a-t-il rappele ?
Mais Tous ehantez, mais Totre voix console —
Corinne, en tous I'ange s'est d^ToUe !
Votre printema Teut dea fleurs eterneUes,
Votre beautd de celestes atours ;
Pour un long toI tous deployez tos ailes ! —
Ange aux yeux bleus, protegez-moi toujours !
Ci)e ^ngel of J^onrp.
To L. E. L.
Lady ! for thee a holier key shall harmonise the chord —
In HeaTcn's defence Omnipotence drew an aTenging sword ;
But when the bolt had crush' d reTolt, one angel, fair though frail,
Betain'd his lute, fond attribute ! to charm that gloomy Tale.
The lyre he kept his wild hand swept ; the music he'd awaken
Would sweetly thrill from the lonely hill where he sat apart forsaken I
There he'd lament his banishment, his thoughts to grief abandon,
And weep his full. 'Twaa pitiful to see him weep, fair Landon !
He wept his fault ! Hell's gloomy vault grew vocal with his song j
But aJl throughout derision's shout burst from the guilty throng ;
God pitying view'd hia fortitude in that unhaUow'd den j
Eree'd him from heU, but bade him dwell amid the sons of men.
THE SONGS OP PEAITOE. 313
Lady ! for us, an exile thus, immortal Poesy
Came upon earth, and lutes gave birth to sweetest minstrelsy ;
And poets wrought their speUwords, taught by that angelic mind,
And music lent soft blandishment to fascinate mankind.
Religion rose ! man sought repose in the shadow of her wiags ;
Music for her walked harbinger, and Grenius touch' d the strings :
Tears from the tree of Araby cast on her altar bum'd,
But earth and ware most fragrance gave where Poetry sojoum'd.
Vainly, with hate inveterate, hell labour'd in its rage.
To persecute that angel's lute, and cross his pilgrimage ;
TTnmov'd and calm, his songs pour'd balm on sorrow aU the while ;
Vice he immask'd, but virtue bask'd ia the radiance of his smUe.
O where, among the fair and young, or in what kingly court,
In what gay path where Pleasure hath her favourite resort.
Where hast tiiou gone, angehc one ? Back to thy native skies ?
Or dost thou dwell in cloister'd cell, in pensive hermit's guise ?
Methinks I ken a denizen of this our island — nay,
Leave me to guess, fair poetess ! queen of the matchless lay !
The thriUing line, lady ! is thine ; the spirit pure and free ;
And England views that angel muse, Landon ! reveal'd in thee !
No. XI.
THE SONGS or ITALY.
Chaptee I.
" Latiiis opinione disseminatum est hoc malum : manavit non soHim
per G-alliam, sed ctiam transcendit Alpes, et obscure serpens multaa
jam provincias occupavit." Ciceeo in Calilinam, Or. IV.
Starting from !France, across Mount Cenis,
Prout visits Mantua and Venice j
Through many a timeful province stroUs,
" Smit with the love " of barcarolles.
Petrarca's ghost he conjures up,
And with old Dante quaffs a cup ;
Next, from her jar Etruscan, he
Uncorks the muse of Tuscany. O. Y.
Eeom the contents of " the chest" hitherto put forth by uh
to the gaze of a discriminating public, the sagacious glance
316 FATHEB PEOTTT's EEIIQUEB.
of the critic, unless bis eye happen to be somehow " by
drop serene or dim suffusion veiled," must have scanned
pretty accurately the peculiar cast and character of old
Prout's genius. Though somewhat " Protean" and multi-
form, delighting to make his posthumous appearance in a
diversity of fanciful shapes, he is stiU discoverable by cer-
tain immutable features ; and the identity of miad and pur-
pose reveals itself throughout this vast variety of manifest-
ation. An attentive perusal of his "Papers" (of which
we have now drawn forth eleven, hoping next month to crack
the last bottle of the sparkling dozen) will enable the reader
to detect the secret workings of his spirit, and discover the
"bee's wing" in the transparent decanter of his soul.
Prout's candour and frankness, his bold, fearless avowal of
each inward conviction, his contempt for quacks and pe-
dants, his warm admiration of disinterested patriotism and
intellectual originality, cannot but be recognised throughout
his writings : he is equally enthusiastic in his predilections,
and stanch in his antipathies. Of his classical namesake,
Proteus, it has been observed by Virgil, that there was no
catching him in any definite or tangible form ; as he con-
stantly shifted his position, and, vrith the utmost violation
of consistency, became at turns " a pig," " a tiger," or " a
serpent," to suit the whim of the moment or the scheme of
the hour :
" Fiet enim subitd sus horridus, atrave tigria,
SfjuamosuBve draco." Georyic. IV.
But in all the impersonations of the deceased P. P. of
Watergrasshill the man is never lost sight of ; it is still he,
whether he be viewed shewing his tusks to Tommy Moore,
or springing like a tiger on Dr. Lardner's vdg, or lurking
like a bottle-imp in Brougham's brandy -flask, or coiled up
like a rattle-snake in the begging-box of O'ConneU.
But still he delights to tread the peaceful paths of lite-
rature ; and it is then, indeed, that he appears in his proper
element. Of all the departments of that interesting pror
vince, he has selected the field of popular poetry for his
favourite haunt. " Smitten," like old Milton, " with the
love of sacred song," he lingers with " fond, reluctant, amo-
rous delay," amid the tuneful "groves." Ballad-singing
THE SON&S or ITALY. 317
was his predominant passion. In his youth he had visited
almost every part of the continent ; and though not unob-
servant of other matters, nor unmindful of collateral inquu'ies,
he made the songs of each country the ohject of a most di-
ligent investigation. Among the tenets of his peripatetic
philosophy, he had adopted a singular theory, viz. that the
true character of a people must be collected from their
" songs." Impressed with this notion, to use the words of
the immortal Edmund Burke, " he has visited all Europe ;
not to survey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateli-
ness of temples ; not to make accurate measurement of the
remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the
curiosities of modern art; not to collect medals, or to collate
MSS. : but to pick up the popular tunes, and make a col-
lection of song-books ; to cuU from the minstrelsy of the
cottage, and select from the bacchanalian joviality of the
vintage ; to compare and collate the Tipperary bagpipe with
the Cremona fi'ddle; to remember the forgotten and attend
to the neglected ballads of foreign nations ; and to blend in
one harmonious system the traditionary songs of all men in
all countries. It was a voyage of discovery, a circumnavi-
gation of melody."
Lander and Mungo Park have traced the course of the
Niger : Bruce and Belzoni the sources of the Nile ; Sterne
journeyed in pursuit of the sentimerdal, Syntax in search of
the picturesque ; Eustace made a " classical" tour through
Italy, Bowring an "utilitarian" excursion through France:
but we greatly miscalculate if the public do not prefer, for
all the practical purposes of life. Front's "tuneful" pil-
grimage. Any accession to the general stock of harmony,
anything to break the monotonous sameness of modern
literature, must be hailed with a shout of welcome ; and in
the Watergrasshill chest we possess an engine of melodious
power, far preferable to the hackneyed barrel-organs that
lull and stultify the present generation. The native Irish
have at all times been remarkable for a keen perception of
musical enjoyment, and it therefore is not astonishing that
the charms of sweet sound should have so fascinated the
youthful mind of our hero, as to lead him captive from land
to land — a willing slave, chained to the triumphal chariot
318 FATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQIJES.
of Polyliymiiia. His case has been graphically put by a
modern -writer (not Hogg) —
" When I was a boy in my father's mud edifice,
Tender and bare as a pig in a sty,
Out of the door as I looked, with a steady phiz.
Who but Thade Murphy the piper went by !
'Arrah, Thady ! the drone of your pipe so comes over me.
Naked I'll wander wherever you goes ;
And if my poor parents should want to discorer me.
Sure it wont be by describing my clothes !' '
" Journeying with this intent," our excellent divine (as
may be seen in the last four numbers of Begin a) hath not
been idle in IVance ; having wreathed a garland of song,
cuUed where those posies grew wild on the boulevards of
Paris, the fields of Normandy, and the fragrant hills of Pro-
vence— ^land of troubadours. We have now to follow him
through other scenes : to view him seated in a gondola, and
gliding under the " Bridge of Sighs ;" or wandering on the
banks of the Po; or treading, with pensive step, the MUtonic
glen of VaUombrosa. Each guardian spirit of that hallowed
soil, each tutelary genius loci, the dryades of the grove and
the naiades of the flood, exult at the approach of so worthy
a visitant, sent with a special mission on an errand of the
loftiest consequences, and gifted with a soul equal to the
mighty task ; a modern by birth, but an old Eoman ia
sentiment —
" Bedonavit Quiritem
Dis patriis Italoque coelo I" — Hoe. lib. ii. ode 7.
It has been the misfortune of that beautiful peninsula,
ever since the decline and fall of the Roman empire, to have
been invaded by a succession of barbarians from the North.
Longobards and Ostrogoths, Alaric and Grenseric, SamEogers
and Prederick Barbarossa, Attila king of the Huns, and
Leigh Hunt king of the Cockneys, have already spread havoc
and consternation through that delightful country ; but the
vilest and most unjustifiable invasion of Italy has been per-
petrated by Lady Morgan. We know not to what extent
impunity may be claimed by " the sex," for running riot
and playing the devil with places and thiigs consecrated by
THE SONGS OF ITALY. 319
the recoUections of all that is noble in our nature, and ex-
alted in the history of mankind ; but we suppose that her
Irish ladyship is privileged to carry on her literary orgies in
the face of the public, like her fair countrywoman, Lady
Barrymore, of smashing notoriety. Heaven knows, she has
often enough been " pulled up " before the tribunals of criti-
cism for her misdemeanours ; still, we find her repeating her
old offences with incorrigible pertinacity, — and Belgium is
now the scene of her pranks. She moreover continues to
besprinkle her pages with Italian, of which she knows about
as much as of the language of the Celestial Empire ; for, let
her take our word for it, that, however acquainted she may
possibly be with the " Cruiskeen lavm," she has but a very
slight intimacy with the " Vocabulario deUa Crusca."
OLIVEE TOEKE.
Feb. 1, 1835.
Watergrasshill, Fet. 1830.
DTJEIN& these long wintry nights, while the blast howls
dismally outside this mountain-shed, and all the boisterous
elements of destruction hold a " radical" meeting on yonder
bog, — seated before a snug turf-fire, and having duly conned
over the day's appointed portion of the Eoman breviary, I
love to give free scope to my youthful recoUections, and
wander back in spirit to those sunny lands where I spent
my early years. Memory is the comforter of old age, as
Hope is the guardian-angel of youth. To me my past Hfe
seems a placid, a delightful dream ; and I trust that when I
shall, at no distant moment, hear the voice which wiU. bid
me " awake" to the consciousness of enduring realities, and
the enjoyment of immortal existence, memory stiU may remain
to enhance, if possible, the fruition of beatitude.
But a truce to these solemn fancies, which, no doubt, have
been suggested to my mind by those homilies of Chrysostom
and soliloquies of Aug^stin which I have just now been pe-
rusiag, in this day's office of our ancient liturgy. And to
resume the train of ideas with which I commenced, a few
minutes ago, this paper of " night-thoughts," — gladly do I
recur to the remembrance of that fresh and active periodof my
320 FATHEB PEOrx'S EElIQrES.
long career, wien, buoyant vfith juvenile energy, and flushed
with life's joyous anticipations, I passed from the south of
France into the luxuriant lap of Italy. Pull sixty years now
have elapsed since I first crossed the Alpine frontier of that
enchanting province of Europe ; but the image of aU I saw,
and the impression of aU. I felt, remains indelible in my
soul. My recollections of gay Prance are Hvely and vivid,
yet not so deeply imprinted, nor so glowingly distinct, as
the picturings which an Italian sojourn has left on the
" tablets of memory." I cherish both; but each has its own
peculiar attributes, features, and physiognomy. The spirituelle
Madame de Sevign^ and the impassioned Beatrice Oenci are
two very opposite impersonations of female character, but
they pretty accurately represent the notion I would wish to
convey of my Italy and my Prance. There is not more differ-
ence between the " Allegro" and " II Penseroso" of Milton.
Prance rises before me in the shape of a merry-andrew jing-
Ung his bells, and exhibiting wondrous feats of agility; Italy
assumes the awful shape of the spectre that stood before
Brutus in the camp, and promised to meet him at Philippi.
In those days a Pranciscan friar, caUed GranganeUi
(Clement XIV.), sat in the pontific chair ; and, sorrowful
to tell, being of a cringing, time-serving, and worldly-minded
disposition, did considerable damage to the church over
which, in evil hour, he was appointed to preside. The
only good act of his I am disposed to recognise is the ad-
dition to the Vatican gallery, called after him the " Museum
Clementinum :" but that was but a poor compensation for the
loss which literature and science sustained (through his in-
effable folly) in the unwarrantable destruction of that un-
rivalled " order" of literati, the Jesuits.* The sacrifice was
avawedly meant to propitiate the demon of Irreligion, then
first exhibiting his presence in Prance ; but, like all such
concessions to an evil spirit, it only provoked further exi-
gencies and more imperative demands, until TAiLETEAifD,
by proposing in the National Assembly the abolition of
church property, effectually demolished the old GaUican
* A book was in circulation called " GanganeUi's Letters j" but it is
an imposition on public credulity, to be classed in the .annals of forgery
alongside of Maopherson's "Ossiau," Chatterton'a "Rowley," and the
" Deoretals" of Isidorus Mercator. — Pbout.
THE SONGS or ITALX. 321
glories of Christianity, and extinguislied tne lamp that had
burnt for ages before the altar of our common Q-od. It was,
no doubt, an act of forgetfulness in the preceding pope,
Prosper Lambertini (Benedict XIV.), to open a corres-
pondence with Voltaire, to whom, in return for the dedi-
cation of his tragedy of " Mahomet," he sent his " apostoli-
cal blessing ;" but it was reserved" for the friar-pope to
inflict an irrecoverable wound on the cause of enlightened
religion, by his bull of the 21st of July, 1773.
I dweU. on this topic con amove, because of my personal
feelings of attachment to the instructors of my youth ; and
also because the subject was often the cause of a friendly
quarrel between myself and Barry the painter, whom I met
at Eome, and knew intimately. He was a " wild fellow," and,
by some chance, had for me a sort of confiding fondness ;
owing, no doubt, to our being both natives of Cork, or, at
least, citizens thereof : for / was born in Dublin, as duly set
forth in that part of my autobiography called " Dean Swift's
Madness ; a Tale of a Chum." Now Barry was so taken with
GanganelH's addition to the Vatican collection, that he has
placed him among the shades of the blessed in his picture of
Elysium, at the hall of the Adelphi, London; giving a snug
berth in "hell" to Pope Adrian IV., who bestowed Ireland
on Henry II. I question not the propriety of this latter
arrangement ; but I strongly object to the apotheosis of
G-anganeUi.
This digression, however unconnected with the " Songs of
Italy," may serve as a chronological landmark, indicative of
the period to which I refer in my observations on the poetry
of that interesting country. Alfieri had not yet rekindled
the fire of tragic thought ; Manzoni had not flung into the
pages of romantic narrative a pathos and an eloquence un-
known to, an^ undreamt of, by Boccaccio ; Silvio PelHco had
not appalled the world with realities far surpassing romance ;
Piademonte had not restrung the lyre of Pilicaia. But
Heaven knows there was enough of genius and exalted in-
spiration in the very oldest ornaments Of Italian compo-
sition, in the ever- glorious founders of the Toseana favella,
to render unnecessary to its triumph the subsequent- corps
de rherve, whose achievements in the field of literature I do
not seek to undervalue.
322 FATHEE PKOTTT's EELIQUES,
Poets have been the earliest writers ia every language
and the first elements of recognized speech have invariably
been collected, arranged, and systematised by the Muse.
The metrical narrative of the Arabian Job, the record of
the world's creation as sung by Hesiod, the historical poetry
of Ennius, the glorious vision of Dante, the songs of Mar6t
and Malherbe, the tales of Chaucer, have each respectively
been the earliest acknowledged forms and models on which
the Hebrew, the Greek, the Latin, the Italian, the French,
and the English idioms were constructed. I have placed '
these six languages (the noblest and most perfect vehicles
of human intercourse that have ever existed) in the rotation
of their successive rise and establishment. Taking them
chronologically, the Hebraic patent of precedency is im-
doubted. The travels of Hesiod, Homer, and Herodotus,
through Egypt and Asia INIinor, sufficiently explain the
subsequent traces of that oriental idiom among the Greeks ;
the transmission of ideas and language from Greece to Italy
is recorded in set terms by the prince of Latin song, who
adopts the Greek hexameter as well as the topics of He-
siod:
' " Ascrseumque cano Eomana per oppida carmen."
Georgie. II.
The Italians, when Latin ceased to be the European me-
dium of international communication, were the first to form
out of the ruins of that glorious parlance an idiom, fixed as
early as 1330, and perfect in all its modern elegance ; — so
perfect, indeed, as to warrant the application to it of the
exclamation of Horace :
" 0 matre pulchrS, filia pulchrior !"
Lib. i. ode 16.
France followed next in the development of its happy
vocabulary, under Erancis I. ; and England, imder the
reign of Queen Anne, finally adopted its modern system
of phraseology. The literature of Germany is of too mo-
dern a growth for my notice. It is scarcely seventy years
old : I am older myself.
It is a remarkable fact, but not the less true, that Dante
(who had studied at the university of Paris, where he main-
THE SON&S OP ITAIT. 323
tained witli applause a thesis, " De omni Ee scibili"), on
his return, to Italy, meditating his grand work of the " Di-
vilia Commedia," was a long time undecided to what dialect
he shoidd commit the offspring of his prolific mind. His
own bias lay towards the Latin, and he even had commenced
in that tongue the description of hell, the opening verse of
which has been preserved :
" Pallida regna caiiam, fluido oontenniBa mundo !"
But the Irish monis of Bobbio, having seen a specimen of
the poem in the popular version, strongly advised the ypung
poet to continue it in the vernacular tongue ; and that deci-
sion influenced the fate of Italian literature.
Petrarca is known to have considerably underrated the
powers of Dante, whose style and manner he could never
relish : indeed, no two writers could possibly have adopted
a more opposite system of composition, and out of the
same materials constructed poetry of so distinct a charac-
ter. Rude, massive, and somewhat uncouth, the terza rima
of the "infernal laureate" resembled the Doric temples
of Psestum ; delicate, refined, and elegant, the sonnets of
Petrarca assimilate in finish to the Ionic structure at
Nismes dedicated to Diana. But the canzoni of Laura's
lover are the most exquisite of his productions, and far sur-
pass in harmony and poetic merit the sonetti. Such is the
opinion of Muratori, and such also is the verdict of the
ingenious author of the " Secchia Eapita." These canzoni
are, in fact, the model and the perfection of that species of
song of which the burden is love ; and though some modern
poets have gone farther in the expression of mere animal
passion (such as Moore and Byron), never has woman been
addressed in such accomplished strains of eloquence and
sentiment as Donna Laura by the hermit of Vaucluse.
There may be some partiality felt by me towards Pe-
trarca. He belonged to "my order;" and though the
unioii of the priest and the poet (combined in the term
VATEs) is an old association, the instances in the Eoman
Catholic priesthood have been too rare not to prize the soli-
tary example of sacerdotal minstrelsy in the archdeacon of
Parma. Jerome Vida, the bishop of a small town in Italy,
was distinguished as a Latin poet —
T 2
324 FATHEE PEOTTT'S EEIiIQTIES.
" Immortal Vida, on whose hsnour'd brow
The critic's bays ajid poet's ivy grow ;"
(Pope, .Essay on Critieiam.) '
and several Jesuits have felt the inspiration of the Muse :
but the excellence of Petrarca as a poet has caused his
theological acquirements, which were of the highest order,
to be quite forgotten. I was greatly amused Some days ago,
in turning over the volume of BeUarmin, " De Scriptoribus
Ecclesiasticis," to find at page 227 (4ito. EomaB, 1613) the
following notice of the sonnetteer :
" Franciscus Petrarca, archidiaconus Parmensis, lusit
elegantissimis versibus amores sues erga Lauram, ut haberet
materiam exercendse musse ; sed tempus eonsumptum in iUis
cantiunculis deflevit, et multa opera gravia atque utilia
scripsit. Pi6 obiit 1374."
The learned cardiaal, no doubt, valued much more these
grave and useful worJes, which are doomed to lurk amid
cobwebs in the monastic libraries of the continent, than the
exquisite outpourings of soul and harmony which have filled
all Europe with rapture.
Long before I had crossed the Alps I had been an admirer
of Petrarca. My residence at Avignon; my familiar ac-
quaintance with the church of St. Cl9,ir, where, ia his twenty-
fifth year (TViday, April 6, 1837), he for the first time saw
the Madonna Laura, then aged seventeen ; niy frequent ex-
cursions to the source of that limpid torrent, called by
Pliny, ValHsclausa, and by the French, Vaucluse, had drawn
my attention to his writings and his character. An enthu-
siastic love of both was the natural result ; and I some-
times, in the perusal of his sentiments, would catch the
contagion of his exquisite Platonism. Tes ! Laura, after
the lapse of five centuries, had made a second conquest !
" Je redemandais Laure & r&ho du vaUon,
Et I'eoho n'ayait point oubM ce doux nom." — SeuiXE.
It has been said, that no poet's mistress ever attained
such celebrity as the Platonic object of Petrarca's afiec-
tions : she has, in fact, taken her place as a fourth maid of
honour in the train of " graces" that wait on Venus ; and
the romantic source of the Sorga has become the Castalian
spring of aU who would write on love.
THE SONGS OF ITALY.
325
ana dTontana Bi 'Falti&tusa.
Canaone di Francesco Petrarca.
Chiare, fresohe, e doloi aoque,
Ore le belle membra
Pose colei, che sola a me par
domia ;
GentU ramo, ove piaoque
(Oon sospir mi rimembra)
A lei di fere al bel fianco colomias
Brba e fior, che la gonna
leggiadra ricoverse
Con 1' angelioo seno ;
Aer sacro aereno,
Ov' amor co' begU ooohi il cor m'
Date udienza inaieme
AUe dolenti mie parole estreme.
S' eglt h pnr mio deatino,
E '1 cielo iu ci6 s' adopra,
Ch' amor quest' ocohi lagrimand
chiuda;
Qualche grazia il meachino
Corpo fra Toi ricopra ;
E tomi r alma alproprio albergo
La morte fia men cruda,
Se questa speme porto
A quel dubbioso passo :
Cbe lo epirito la^ao
Nou poria mai in piil riposato
porto,
TSh 'n pifi tranquilla fosaa
Fuggir la came traragliata e 1'
Tempo verra anoor forse,
Che air usato aoggiomo
Tomi la fera beUa e mansueta ;
E la, 't' ella mi scorse
J^tt-tarf a'£i auUreSsf
To the Summer Haunt of Laura.
Sweet fountain of Vauoluse !
The virgin freshness of whose crystal
bed
The ladye, idol of my soul ! hath led
Within thy wave her fairy bath to
choose !
And thou, O favourite tree !
Whose branches she loved best
To shade her hour of rest —
Her own dear native land's green
mulberry !
Boaes, whose earKest bud
To her sweet bosom lent
Fragrance and ornament !
Zephyrs, who fan the murmuring
flood!
Cool grove, sequestered grot !
Here in this lovely spot
I pour my laat sad lay, where first
her love I wooed.
If soon my earthly woes
Must slumber in the tomb.
And if my Hfe's sad doom
Must so in sorrow, close !
Where yonder willow grows,
Close by the margin lay
My cold and lifeleaa clay, "
That unrequited love may find repose!
Seek thou thy native realm,
My soul ! and when the fear
Of distolutiou near,
And doubts shall overwhelm,
A ray of comfort round
My dying couch shall hover,
/ K some kind hand will cover
My miserable bones in yonder hal-
lowed ground !
But still alive for her
Oft may my ash»8 greet
The sound of coming feet !
And Laura's tread gladden my se-
pulchre !
326
FATHEE PEOTT'S EELIQrBS.
Nel benedetto giomo,
Volga la yista desiosa e lieta
Cercamdomi ; ed, o pifeta !
GKa terra in fra le pietre
Videndo, amor 1' inspiri
In guisa, che sospiri
Si dolcemente, che merce m' im-
petre,
E faocia forz» al cielo,
Asciugsndosi gli occhi col bel
velo.
Da' be' rami scendea,
(Dolce nella memoria,)
Una pioggia di fior sovra '1 sue
grembo ;
Ed eUa bI sedea
TJmile in tanta gloria,
CoTerta gisl dell' amoroso nem-
bo:
Qual fior cadea sul lembo,
Qual suUe treoce bionde ;
> Ch' oro forbito, e perle
Eran quel di a vederle ;
Qual si posara in terra, e qual
BuU' onde;
Qual con un vago errore
Giraudo, parea dir, " Qui regna
Amore."
Quaute volte diss' io»
Allor pien di spavento,
"Costei per fermo nacque in
Paradiso ;"
CobI caroo d' obblio,
H divin portamento,
E '1 volto, e le parole, e '1 doloe
riso
M' areano, e si diviso
Dall' immagine vera,
Ch' io dicea Bospirando,
" Qui come venn' io, o quando ?"
Credendo esser in ciel, nou 1^
doy' era :
Beienting, on my grave,
My mistreBs may, perchance,
With one kind pitying glance
Honour the dust of her devoted slave.
Then may she intercede,
With prayer and sigh, for one
Who, hence for ever gone,
Of mercy stands in need ;
And while for me her rosary she
tells.
May her uplifted eyes
Win pardon from the sMes,
While angels through her veil behold
the tear tlut swells !
Visions of love ! ye dwell
In memory still enshrined. —
Here, as she once reclined,
A shower of blossoms on her bosom
fell!
And while th' enamoured tree
Erom all its branches thus
Eained odoriferous.
She sat, unconscious, all humihty.
Mixed with her golden hair, those
blossoms sweet
liiie pearls on amber seemed j —
Some their aUegianoe deemed
Due to her floating robe and lovely
feet :
Others, disporting, took
Their course adown the brook ;
Others aloft, wafted in airy sport,
Seemed to proclaim, "To-day Love
holds his merry court !"
I've gazed upon thee, jewel beyond
price !
Tin from my inmost soul
This secret whisper stole —
"Of Earth no child art thou, daughter
of Paradise !"
Such sway thy beauty held
O'er the enraptured sense.
And such the influence
Of winning smile and form unparal-
leled !
And I would marvel then
" How came I here, and when,
THE SONaS OF ITALY. 327
Da indi in qua mi piaoe Wafted by magie wand,
Quest' erba ei, eh' altrove non ho Earth's narrow joys beyond?"
pace. O, I shall ever count
My happiest days spent here by this
romantic fount !
In this graceful effiision of tender feelings, to which a
responsive chord must vibrate in every breast, and compared
with which the most admired of modern love-ditties will
seem paltry and vulgar, the tenderness, the exalted passion,
the fervid glow of a noble heart, and the mysterious work-
ings of a most gifted miad, exhibit themselves in every
stanza. "What can be more beautifully descriptive than the
opening lines, equalling in melodious cadence the sweetest
of Horace,
" O fons Bandusiffi, splendidior vitro ;"
but infinitely superior in delicacy of sentiment and pathetic
power ! The calm melancholy of the succeeding strophe
has been often admired, and has, of course, found great
favour among the Tom Moores of every country.
Tom has given us his last dying-speech in that rigmarole
melody,
"When in death I shall oahu recline ;"
but the legacy of this bard is a sad specimen of mock-turtle
pathos, and, with the affectation of tenderest emotion, is,
in style and thought, repugnant to all notions of real refine-
ment and simplicity. In the last will of Petrarca — a .most
interesting document — there is a legacy which any one may
be pardoned for coveting ; it is the poet's lute, which he
bequeaths to a friend, with a most affecting and solemn re-
commendation: " Magistro Thomse de Ferrara lego ^eM<a»»
meum bonum, ut eum sonet non pro vanitate sseculi fugacis,
sed ad laudem Dei seterni." — (Testament, Petrar.)
As the Hibernian melodist has had his name thus smuggled
into my essay on the " Songs of Italy,',' it may not be irre-
levant (as assuredly it wiU. be edifying) to point out some
of his " rogueries" perpetrated in this quarter. Not con-*
tent with picking the pockets of the Prench, he has ex-
tended his depredations to the very extremity of Calabria.
Petrarca's case is one of peculiar hardship. Laura's lover,
328 FATHEB PEOTJT's EELIQUES.
in the enthusiasm of eloquent passion, takes a wide range
in one of his songs, and ransacks the world, east and west,
for images drawn from the several phenomena which nature
exhibits in each country through which his muse wanders
uncontrolled. Among Other curious comparisons and happy
£ights of infancy, he introduces the fountain of the Sun,
Dear the temple of Jupiter Ammon ; and, describing the
■occasional warmth and successive icy chiH which he expe-
riences in the presence or absence of his beloved, compares
his heart to that mysterious water, which, cold at mid-day,
grew warm towards eve. Would the reader wish to see
with what effrontery Moore appropriates, without the
slightest acknowledgment, the happy idea of Petrarch?
Here are the parallel passages :
^^ctrjrra. Com &iooxt. .
" Sorge nel mezzo giomo. "Ply not yet! the fount that pky'd,
Una fontana, e tien nome del In days of old, through Ammon's
Sole, shade,
Che per natura Buole Though icy cold by day it ran,
Bollir la notte, e'n sul giomo esser Yet stUl, like souls of mirth, hegam
&edda. To bum when night was nean
* * * * Aud thus should woman's heart and
Cosl avien a me stesso looks
Che mio sol s' allontana At noon be cold as wintiy brooks,
Ardo allor," &e. But kindle when the night's retum-
Canzoni di Petr. 31, et. 4, ing
Brings the genial hour for burning."
The learned priest had been at the trouble of perusing
Quintus Curtius, lib. iv. cap. 7, where he had found : " Eat
etiam Ammonis nemus ; in medio habet fontem ; aquam
soils vocant; sub lucis ortum tepida manat, medio die frigida
eadem fluit, incHnato in vesperam calescit, medi^ nocte fer-
vida exaestuat." He had also, no doubt, read the hues in
SiHus ItaJicus, " De Bello Punico," referring to this same
source :
" QusB nascente die, quse deficiente tepescit,
Quseque riget medium oilm sol ascendit Olympmn."
But his property, in the application of the simile, has been
invaded by Tom, who had read nothing of the sort —
" Sic Tos non vobis meUificatis apes !"
Aiter all, I am wasting my time on such minor matters. ,
THE WINE-CUP BESPOKEN,
THE SONaS OP ITALY. 329
In the celebrated address above quoted of tlie hermit of
Vaueluse to that ammortal fountain, I have given what I
consider a fair specimen of Italian amatory poesy : but
though the poets of that genial climate are " all for love,"
still they are also " a little for the bottle." Hence it is
that I consider it my- duty, as an essayist, to bring forward
a sample of their bacchanalian songs.
Sonttto ©ittramljico.
Claudia Tolomei.j
Nou mi far, O Vjilean ! di questo argento
Scolpiti in vaga scbiera uomini ed. armi :
Fammene una-gran. tazza, .ore baguarmi
Fossa i denti, la lingua, i kbbri, e '1 meuto,
Non mi ritrai" inlei pioggia n& vento,,
Nfe sole o stelle per Taghgzza darmi •
Non puo '1 Carro o Boote allegro farmi—
Cb' altrove e la mia gioia e '1 inio conteiito. f
Pa delle viti ed alle viti intomo .,
Peudir' dell' uve, el' lire BtiHinvinoJ '
Ch' io beyo, e poi dagli occbi ebro' distiUo j
E 'n mezzo un vaso, ore in bel core adomo,
Coro pii oh' altro'lietd e piil divino,
Pestino 1' uve Amor, Bacco, e BatiUo!
W^t Wtnt^Cup I)e;EJpo6en.
, AiB — " One bumper at parting."
Great Vulcan ! your dart smoky palace.
With these ingots of silver, I seek j
And I beg you will make me a chalice.
Like the cup you once forged for the Greek.
Let no deeds of Bellqna " the bloody"
Emblazon this goblet of mine ;
But a garland of grapes, ripe and ruddy,
In sculpture around it entwine.
The festoon (which you'll graoefully model)
Is, remember, hut part at the whole ;
Lest, perchance, it might enter your noddle
To diminish the size of tbie bowl.
830 TATHEE PEOn'S EELIQUES.
For though dearly what 's deem'd ornamental,
And of art the bright symbols, I prize ;
Still I cling with a fondness parental
Bound a cup of the true good old size.
Let me have neither sun, moon, nor planet,
Nor " the Bear," nor " the Twins," nor " the Goat :"
Tet its use to each eye that may scan it,
Let a glance at its emblems denote. ..
Then away with Minerva and Venus !
Not a rush for them both do I care ;
But let joUy old Father Silenus,
Astride on his jackass, be there !
Let a dance of gay satyrs, in cadence
Disporting, be seen mid the fruit j
And let Pan to a group of young maidens
Teach a new vintage-lay on his flute ;
Cupid, too, hand in hand with Bathyllus,
May purple his feet in the foam :
Long may last the red joys they distil us !
, Tho' Love spread his winglets to roam !
The Bongsters of Italy have aot conflned themselves so
exclusively to the charms of the ladies and the fascinations
of the flask, as not to have felt the noble pulse of patriotic
emotion, and sung the anthem of independence. There is
a glorious ode of Petrarch to his native land : and here is a
well-known poetic outburst from a truly spirited champion
of his country's rights, the enthusiastic but graceful and
dignified Filicaia.
mia. 33atrta.
ItaUa ! Italia ! o tu cui feo la sorte
Dono infeUce di bellezza, ond' hai
Funesta dote d' infiniti guai
Che in fronte scritti per gran doglia porte j
Deb ! fossi tu men bella, o almen piu forte
Onde assai pift ti paventasse, o assai
T' amasse men chi del tuo bello a' rai
Far che si strugga, e pur ti s£da a morte .
THE SONGS OF ITALY. 331
Che giu dall' Alpi non vedrei torrenti
Scender d' armati, nfe di aaiigue tinta
Berer 1' onda del Po gaUioi armenti ;
Ne te Tedrei del non tuo feiro cinta
Pugnar col braccio di straniere genti
Per servir sempre, o yinoitrice o yinta !
Co proiStrate Italp.
Filicaia.
Hast thou not been tne nations' queen, fair Italy ! though now
Chance gives to them the diadem that once adorned thy brow ?
Too beautiful for tyrant's rule, too proud for handmaid's duty —
Would thou hadst less of loveHnesB, or strength as well.as beauty !
The fatal light of beauty bright with fell attraction shone.
Fatal to thee, for tyrants "be the lovers thou hast won !
That forehead fair is doom'd to wear its shame's degrading proof,
And slavery's print in damning tint stamp'd by a despot's hoof!
Were strength and power, maiden! thy dower, soon should that
robber-band.
That prowls unhid thy vines amid, fly scourg'd from off that land ;
Nor wouldst thou fear yon foreigner, nor be condenmed to see
Drink in the flow of classic Po barbarian cavahy.
Climate of art ! thy sons depart to gild a Vandal's throne ;
To battle led, their blood is shed in contests not their own ;—
Mix'd with yon horde, go draw thy sword, nor ask what cause 'tis fop :
■ Thy lot is cast — slave to the last ! conquer'd or conqueror !
Truly is Italy the " climate of art," as I hare designated
her iQ my version ; for even the peasantry, admitted as they
constantly are, by the wise munificence of the reigning
princes, to all public collections of sculpture and painting,
evince an instinctive admiration of the capi d' opera of the
most celebrated masters, easily distinguishing them from
the multitude of inferior productions with which they are
generally surrounded. This innate perception appears the
birthright of every son of Italy ; and I have often listened
with surprise to the observations of the artificers of Eome,
and the dwellers of the neighbouring hiUs, as they stroUed
through the Vatican gallery. There is one statue in rather
an unfrequented, but vast magnificent church, of the Eter--
nal City, round which I never failed to meet a group of
332 FATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQTIES.
enthusiastic admirers : it is the celebrated Moses ; in which
Frenchmen have only found matter for vulgar jest, but
which the Italians view with becoming veneration. One of
the best odes in the language has been composed in honour
of this glorious effort of Buonarotti's chisel.
Sonetto di Giambattista Zappi.
Chi e cestui, ohe in el gran pietra seolto
Siede, gigamte, e le piil iUustri e conte
Opre deU' arte ayanza, e ha vive e pronte
Le lahbra si che le parole ascolto ?
Questi e Mose ; ben me '1 dicera il folto
Onor del mento, e '1 doppio raggio in fronte :
Questi h Mose, quando scendea dal monte,
E gran parte del Nume avea nel volto.
Tal era allor, che le sonante e vaste
Aoque ei sospese a se d' intomo ; e tale
Quando il mar chiuae, e ne fe tomba altrui.
E voi, sue turbe, im rio vitello alzaste ?
Alzata aveste immago a questa eguale ;
Ch' era men £allo 1' adorar costui.
®Ue to tiie Statue of MoStS
At the foot cf the Mautokum of Pope Julius II. in the Church of St.
Peter ad Vinculo, Rome — the Masterpiece of Michael Angela.
Statue ! whose giant limbs
Old Buonarotti plann'd,
And Gtenius carved with meditative hand, —
Thy dazzling radiance dims
The best and brightest boasts of Sculpture's favourite land.
What dignity adorns
That beard's prodigious sweep !
That forehead, awful with mysterious horns
And cogitation deep,
Of some uncommon miad the rapt beholder warns.
In that proud semblance, well
My soul can recognise
The prophet fresh from converse with the skies ;
IS'or b it hard to teU
The liberator's name, — the Guide of Israel.
THE SONGS 01' ITALY. 333
Well might the deep respond
Obedient to that Toice,
When on the Red Sea shore he waved his wand,
And bade the tribes rqoiee,
Saved from the yawning gulf and the Egyptian's bond !
Fools ! in the wilderness
Ye raised a calf of gold !
Had ye then worshipped what I now behold,
Tour crime had been far less —
For ye had bent the knee to one of godlike mould !
There is a striMng boldness in the conclading stanza, war-
ranted however hy the awful majesty of the colossal figure
itself.
SmoUett has given us a delightful " Ode to Leven "Water,"
in which, vnth enraptured complacency, he dwells on the
varied beauties of the Scottish stream, its flowery banks, and
its scaly denizens. By way of contrast, it may not be un-
pleasant to peruse an abusive and angry lyric addressed to
the Tiber by an Italian poet, who appears to have been
disappointed in the uncouth appearance of that turbid river ;
having pictured it to his young imagination as an enchant-
ing silvery flood. The wrath of the bard is amusing ; but
he is sometimes eloquent in his ire.
ai €tbeve. ^inti aKBreSSeB to tijc Ctber.
Alessandro Ouidi, By Aleasandro GuiUi.
10 oredea ehe in queste sponde Tiber ! my early dream,
Sempre 1' onde My boyhood's vision of thy classic
,Gisser limpide ed amene ; stream,
E che qui soave e lento Had taught my mind to think
Stesse il vento, That over sands of gold
E che d' or fosser 1' arene. Thy limpid waters roUed,
And ever-verdant laurels grew upon
thy brink.
Ma vag6 lungi dal vero But far in otheC guise
, n pensiero The rude reality hath met miQC eyes.
In formar si bello il flume ; Here, seated on thy bank.
Or che in riva a lui mi seggio All desolate and drear
lo ben veggio Thy margin doth appear,
11 suo volto e il BUG costume. With creeping weeds, and shrubs, and
vegetation rank.
334
FATHEE PEOUT S EBLIQTJES.
Non con onde liete e chiai'e
Oorre al mare ; '
Fassa torbido ed osouro :
I BQoi lidi auBtro percuote
B gli scuote
IVeddo turbine d' Arturo.
Quanto e folle quella nave
Che non pave
I suoi Tortici sdegnosi,
B non sa ohe dentro 1' aoque
A lui piacque
Si fondar' perigli ascoei.
Suol trovarsi in suo cammino
Quivi il pino
Trk profonde ampie caveme ;
D'improTviBo ei giimge al lito
Di Cooito
A Bolcar quell' onde inferue.
Quando in Sirio il Sol riluce,
E conduce
L' ore ferride inquiete,
Chi conforto al Tebro chiede
Ben' s' avrede
Bi cercarlo in grembo a Lete.
Ognun sa come spumoao,
Orgoglioso,
Sin con mar prende contesa,
Vubl talor passar reloce
I/' alta foce,
Quando Teti & d' ira accessa.
Quindi awien ch' ei fa ritomo
Pien di scomo,
B b' avTenta alle rapine :
Si divora il bosco, e il solco,
B a bifoloo
Nuota in cima alle mine.
Bondly I fancied thine
The wave pellucid, and the Naiad's
Bhnne,
In crystal grot below ;
But thy tempestuous course
Buns turbulent and hoarse,
And, swelling with wild wrath, thy
wintry waters flow.
Upon thy bosom dark
Feril awaits the light conflding bark.
In eddying vortex swamp'd ;
Foul, treacherous, and deep.
Thy winding waters sweep,
Bnveloping their prey in dismal ruin
prompt.
Fast in thy bed is sunk
The mountain pine-tree's broken
trunk.
Aimed at the galley's keel ;
And well thy wave can wajft
Upon that broken shaft
The barge, whose sunken wreck thy
bosom wiU conceal.
The dog-star's sultry power.
The summer heat, the noontide's
fervid hour,
That fires the mantling blood.
Yon cautious swain can't urge
To tempt thy dangerous surge,
Or cool his Kmbs withm thy dark in-
sidious flood.
I've marked thee in thy pride.
When struggle fierce thy disem-
boguing tide
With Ocean's monarch held ;
But, quickly overcome
By Neptune's masterdom.
Back thou hast fled as oft, ingloriously
repelled.
Often, athwart the fields
A giant's strength thy flood redund-
ant wields.
Bursting above its brims —
Strength that no dyke can cheek:
Dire is the harvest-wreck I
Buoyant, with lofty horns, th' affright-
ed bullock swims !
THE SOITBS or ITAIT.
335
But still thy proudest boast,
Tiber ! and what brings honour to
thee most,
Is, that thy waters roll
Fast by th' eternal, home
Of GHory's daughter, EoMB ;
And that thy biUowB bath« &e sacred
Capitol.
Famed is thy stream for her,
Cleha, thy current's yirgin conqueror.
And him who stemmed the march
Of Tuscany's proud host.
When, firm at honour's post,
He waved his blood-stained blade
above the broken arch !
Of Eomulus the sons,
To torrid Africans, to frozen Huns,
Have taught thy name, O flood !
And to that utmost verge.
Where radiantly emerge
ApoUo's car of flame and golden-footed
stud.
For so much glory lent,
Ever destructive of some monu-
ment,
Thou mak'est foul return ;
Insulting with thy wave
Each Komau hero's ^ave,
And Scipio's dust that fills yon con-
secrated urn !
Turn we now to Dante. I have always been of opinion,
that the terza rima in which he wrote was so peculiar a
feature of the language, and a form of verse so exclusively
adapted to the Italian idiom, as to render any attempt to
translate him in the same rhymed measure a dangerous ex-
periment. Even Byron, in his " Prophecy of Dante," has
failed to render it acceptable to our English ear. The
" sonnet" is also, in my humble judgment, an unnational
poetic structure, and as little suited to our northern lan-
guages as the Italian villa-style of Palladio to our climate.
B'ew English sonnets have ever gained celebrity among the
masses. There is a lengthened but not unmusical sort
of line, in which I think the old Florentine's numbers
might sweep along with something like native dignity.
Quei frequenti illustri allori,
Quegli onori
Per cui tanto egli si noma
Fregi son d' antichi eroi,
B non suoi,
E son doni alfln di Boma.
Lui fan ohiaro il gran tragitto
DeU' invitto
Cor di Olelia al suol Bomano,
E il guerrier che sopra il ponte
L' alta fronte
Tenne incontro al re Tosoano.
Fu di Bomolo la gente
Che il tridente
Di Nettuno in man gU porse ;
Ebbe aUor del mar 1' impero,
Ed altero
Tiionfaudo intomo corse.
Ma il crudel, che il tutto oblia,
E desia
Di spezzar mai sempre il freno,
Spesso a Boma insulti rende,
Ed offende
L'ombre auguste all' urne in
aeno.
336 TATHEE PEOTJT'S EELIQTJES.
l,a 33orta Bel Jnferno.
Dante, Cant. III.
" Pee MB SI TA ITELIiA CITli. DOIyENTB,
Feb me si va iraLi' etebno doioee,
Pee me si ta tea ia peedtjta gente.
^P ^ rtp "SP
DnrANZI A ME NON ETJB COSE CEEATE,
Se NON ETEENE ED 10 ETEENO DTTEO,
Lasoiate ooni speeanza vox ch' inibatb."
Queste parole, cli colore oscuro,
Yid' io soritte al sommo d' una porta
Perch' io, "MacstroM il sensolor m' 6 ditro."
Ed egli a me come persona aoeorta,
" Qui si convien lasciar ogni sospetto,
Ogni TUta convien che qui sia morta.
Noi sem venuti al luogo ot* i' t' o detto,
C!he tu vedrai le genti dolorose,
Ch' hanno perduto '1 ben' dell' intelletto."
E poiehfe la sua mauo alia mia pose,
Con lieto volto, ond io mi oonfortai,
Mi miae dentro alle secrete cose ;
Quivi sospiri, pianti, ed alti guai
Bisonavan per 1' aere senza steUe,
Perch' io nel cominciar ne lagrimai.
Diverse lingue, orribili favelle,
Parole di dolore, accent! d' ira,
Vooi alte e fioche, e suon di man eon elle^
I Faoevano un tumulto U qual s' aggira
Sempre 'n quell' aria senza tempo tinta.
Come r arena quamdo '1 turbo spira.
Ed io, cV avea d' orror la testa ointa,
Dissi, " Maestro, che fe quel' ch' i odo ?
E che gent' e che par nel duol si viuta ?"
Ed egU a me : " Questo misero modo
Tengon 1' anime triste di coloro,
Che visser senza infamia e senza lodo,
Mischiate sono a quel cattivo core
Degh angeU che non furon ribelli,
N6 fur fldeli a Dio ma per s6 foro.
THE SONGS OF IXALT. 337
Caeciavli i oiel' per nou esser men belli,
Ne lo profondo inferno gli rioeve,
Oh' alouna gloria i rei avrebber d' elli."
Ed io : " Maestro, che 6 tanto greve
A lor che lamentar gli fa si fortef "
Eispose : " Dieerolti molto breve.
Quest! non hanno speranza di morte,
E la lor cieea vita e tanto bassa
Che 'nvidiosi son d' ogni'altra sorte.
Eama di lor il mondo esser nou lassa ;
Misericordia e giustizia gli sdegna,
Non bagion am' di ioe, ma atJAEDA b passa !'
Cl)e J^ort!) of Itll.
(X»«n<e.)
"Set6 pe ijc pat!) trateD i^t ii)e toraii) of ffioU fot slnfull mortals?
®( ilte reptobau tj^is is i\)e gate, liiese are 11)e glootne pottals !
jfor sinne anB crime (xom iJje 6irtl) of tpme Bujac tsaa tfiis diulp^
Infernal
(&nei3t! let all l^ope on tl^ts tI)rtsi)olIi sto]]! ^cre reigns llespait
lEurnal."
I read with tears these characters — tears shed on man's behalf ;
Each word seemed fraught with painful thought, the lost soul's epitaph.
Turning dismayed, " O mystic shade !" I cried, " my kindly Mentor,
Of comfort, say, can no sweet ray these dart dominions enter ?"
" My son !" replied the ghostly guide, " this is the dark abode
Of the guilty, dead — alone they tread hell's melancholy road.
Brace up thy nerves ! this hour deserves that Mind should have control,
And bid avaunt fears that would haunt the clay-imprisoned soul.
Mine be the task, when thou shalt ask, each mystery to solve ;
Anon for us dark Erebus back si all its gates revolve — ,
HeU shall disclose its deepest woes, each punishment, each pang,
Saint hath revealed, or eye beheld, or flame-tongued prophet sang."
Gates were unrolled of iron mould — a dismal dungeon yawned !
We passed — we stood — 'twas hell we view'd l-J-etemity had dawned !
Space on our sight burst infinite — echoes were heard remote j
Shrieks loud and drear startled our ear, and stripes incessant smote.
Onward we went. The firmament was starless o'er our head.
Spectres swept by inquiringly — clapping then- hands they fledl
Z
338 FATHEE PEOTTt'S EELIQTTES.
Borne on the blast strange whispers .passed ; and ever and anon
Athwart the plain, Uke hurricane, G-od's vengeance would come on.!
Then sounds, breathed low, of gentler woe soft on our hearing stole j
Captives so meek fain would I seek to comfort and console :
" O let us pause and learn the cause of so much grief, and why
Saddens the air of their despair the unavaUing sigh ! "
" My son ! Heaven grants them utterance in plaintive notes of woe ;
In tears their grief may find relief, but hence they never go.
Pools ! they believed that if they lived blameless and vice eschewed,
God would dispense with excellence, and give beatitude.
They died ! but naught of virtue brought to vrin their Maker's praise ;
No deeds of worth the page set forth that chronicled their days.
Pixed is their doom — eternal gloom ! to mourn for wliat is past,
And weep aloud amid that crowd with whom their lot ia cast.
One fate they share with spirits fair, who, when rebellion shook
God's holy roof, remained aloof, nor part whatever took ; •
Drew not the sword against their Lord, nor yet upheld his throne :
Could God for this make perfect bliss theirs when the fight was won ?
The world knows not their dreary lot, nor can assuage their pangs,
Or cure the curse of fell remorse, or hlunt the tiger's fangs.
Mercy disdains to loose their chains — the hour of grace has been !
Son ! let that class unheeded pass — unwept, though not unseen."
The very singular and striking moral inculcated by Dante
in this episode, where he consigns to hopeless misery those
" good easy souls" who lead a worthless career of selfishness,
though exempt from crime, is deserving of serious attention.
Prom Dante's "Hell," the transition to the "Wig of
[Father Eoger Boscovich" may appear ahrupt ; but I never
terminate a paper ia gloomy or doleful humour. Wherefore
I wind up by a specimen of playful poetry, taken from a
very scarce .work printed at Venice ia 1804, and entitled
" Le Opere Poetiche deU' Abate Griulio Cesare Cordara,"
ex- Jesuit and ex-historiographer to the Society, connected
by long friendship with his confrere, the scientific and accom-
plished Boscovich, concerning whom there is a short notice
elsewhere,* to which I refer the reader, should he seek to know
more about the proprietor of the wig. Nor, perhaps, will a
Latin translation of this_/eM d^ esprit be unacceptable.
* See Paper on Literature and the Jesuits.
THE SOKGS OF ITALY. 339
aila 39ei:rucca tlcl ^atitt Sussern So^cobicJ).
O crine, o orin che un dl fosti Btromento
Di folli amori, p sol femminea oura,
Or sei del mio Bugger Btrano ornamento ;
Couoaci tu 1' eccelsa tua ventivra,
E ti saresti mai immagiuato
Di fare al mondo una Bi gran figura ?
Qual che si fosse il capo in oui sei uato,
Posse pur di leggiadro e nobil volto,
Certo non fosti mai tauto onorato.
Di raga donna in fronte eri pivl colto ;
Ma i dl passari neghittosi e TiU
A MXi lucido cristaUo ognor rivolto.
Sol pensier vani, e astuzie femminiU
CopriTi allor, e insidiosa rate
Co' tuoi formaTi iunanellati fiU.
Q.uando costretto le folUe consuete
A sentir d' un' amante che delira,
Quando smanie a veder d' ire iaquiete.
Porae talor ti si aTventb con ira
A scapigliarti un' invida rivale,
Come femmina suol quando s' adira ;
Infin, nido di griUi origjnale,
Testimonio di frodi o di menzogne,
T' aveva fatto il tuo destin fatale.
Ne i fior vermigli e 1' odorate sogne,
N6 la Candida polve, ond' eri asperso,
Facean compenso a tante tue vergogne.
Ma come fatto sei da te diverso,
Dacohe reciso dalla tU cerrice,
Di non tuo capo in crin, fo sti converse
Fri tutte le perruoche or sei feHce,
Che sebben' torta, incolta, e mai contesta,
(Come pur troppo immaginar ne lice),
Puoi per6 gloriarti, e fame festa
Che altra non fu giammai dal ciel eletto
A ricoprir si veneranda testa !
z2
340 TATHEE PEOri'S EELIQT7E8.
®ae to ti)e OTt's of dFati)tr ^oitobic^,
THE OEIEBKATED ASTBONOMEE.
With awe I look on that pemke.
Where Learning is a lodger,
And think, whene'er I see that hair
Which now you wear, some ladye fair
Had worn it once, dear Roger !
On empty skull most beautiful
Appeared, no doubt, those locks.
Once the bright grace of pretty face ;
Now far more proud to be allowed
To deck thy " knowledge-box."
Condemned to pass before the glass
Whole hours each blessed morning,
'Twas desperate long, with curling-tong
And tortoise-sheU, to have a belle
Thee frizzing and adorning.
Bright ringlets set as in a net.
To catch us men like fishes !
Tour every lock concealed a stock
Of female wares — love's pensive cares,
Yain dreams, and futile wishes !
That chevelure has caused, I'm sure,
Full many a lover's quarrel ;
Then it was decked with flowers select
And myrtle-sprig : but now a wia,
'Tis circled with a laurel !
Where fresh and new at first they grew.
Of whims, and tricks, and fancies,
Those locks at best were but a nest : —
Their being spread on learned head
Vastly their worth enhances.
Prom flowers exempt, uncouth, unkempt-
Matted, entangled, thick !
Mourn not the loss of curl or gloss —
'Tis infra dig. Thou abt the wia
Ob Eogeb Boscotich !
iSt fi'cta Coma i^agert fiaicobicitiu
Elegia,
Ctesaries ! yanum vesani nuper amoris
Forsitan illicium, ciu:aque fceminea,
THE SONGS or ITALY. 341
Gh-ande mei nuper gestamen facta Eogeri,
Noyisti an sortis fata seounda tuse ?
Sper^tine istud laudis contingere culmen,
Mortalesque inter tam fore conspicua P
Culta magi3 fueras intonsse in fronte pnellsB,
Sed toti sueruut turpiter ire dies ;
Tune coram speculo contorta, retorta gemebas,
Dum per mille modos futile pergit opus.
Nunc meliore loco (magnum patris omamentum),
Esto sacerdotis, nou muliebris, houos !
O quotles ferro immiti vibrata dolebas,
Vt £eres va&as cassis ad insidias !
Audiati quoties fatui deKria amantis,
Vidisti et csbcus quidquid iueptit amor !
Forsan et experta es fiirias riralis amiese,
Dum gravis in cirros insilit ira tuoB.
Quippe tuum fuerat lugubre ab origine fatiuu,
Esses ut tegmeu firaudibus atque dolis,
TJtque fores nidus gerris mal& plenus ineptii.
Tale ministerium fata dedSre tibi ;
Neo compensabant dirse mala sortis odores,
TJnguenta, et pulvis vel nire caudidior.
Nunc data t^m docto mixnimen forte eerebro,
Sis impexa lic^t, ais licet horridula,
Sume triumphatrix animos hinc jure superbos,
Quod tantum 'foveas ambitiosa oaput !
There is extant among the poems of Cordara a further la-
mentation on the sale of this wig, after Boscovich's death,
to a Jew teoker —
" Venduta, o caso perfido e reo !
Per quindici bajocohi, ad un Hebreo !"
from whom it was purchased by a farmer, and ultimately
fixed on a pole, in a cabbage-garden, to fidght the birds,
" per spaventar gliuccelli." — But I feel drowsy to-night, and
cannot pursue the subject. MoUy ! bring my night-cap !
342 TATHEB lEOrT'S EEIIQ.UES.
No. XII.
THE SONGS 01' ITALT.
CHAPTJIE II.
" Sed neque Medonim, sylvse ditissima, terra,
Neo pulcher Ganges, atque aiiro turbidus Hermus,
Laudibus Ttalise oertent ; noh Bactra, neque Indi,
Totaque thuriferis Panchaia pinguis areuis."
VebG. Georg. II.
Wc'tb met with glees "from the Chinese!" translations "from the
Persian ;"
Sanscrit we're had, from Hydrabad, Sir WiUiam Jones's version.
We've also seen (in a magazine) nice jawbreakers "from Schiller;"
And "tales" by folks,- who gives us "jokes," omitting "from Joe
Miller."
Of plain broad Scotch a neat hotch-potch Hogg sends us from the
Highlands ;
There are songs too "from the Hindi," and " from the Sandwich
Islands."
'Tis deemed most wise to patronise Munchausen, Q-oethe, Ossian ;
To make a stand for "fatherland" or some other laud of G-oshen.
Since we must laud things from abroad, and smile on foreign capers,
The land for me is Italy, with her SONGS "from the Prout Papers."
O. Y.
Theee has arisen in England a remarkable predilection for
the literature of the continent. The great annual fair at
Leipsic is drawing more and more the attention of our book-
sellers ; to the detriment of " the Eow." Nor are our his-
torians and poets, our artists in the novel-making line (male
and female), our humble cobblers at the dramatic buskin,
and our industrious hodmen from the sister island who con- .
tribute to build cyclopaedias, the only laboxiring poor thrown
out of employment ; but even our brothers in poverty and
genius, the old English ballad-singers, blind-fiddlers, and
pipers, have been compelled to give place to the barrel-
organ, a mere piece of machinery, which has superseded
THE SONGS OF ITALY. 343
industry and talent. The old national claimants on public
generosity, sailors with wooden legs and broken-down
"match-venders," have given way to Polish " Counts" and
Bavarian " broom-girls." Bulwer thought himself a lucky
dog, a few weeks ago, to have got a day's work on a political
pamphlet, — that being part of the craft which no foreigner
has yet monopolised. The job was soon done ; though 'twas
but a sorry hit, after all. He is now engaged on a pathetic
romaunt of real life, the " Last Days of Grab Street."
Matters must have gone hard with Tom Moore, since we
learn with deep feelings of compassion that he is driven to
compile a " History of Ireland." Theodore Hook, deter-
mined to make hay while the sun shines, has taken the
" BuL." by the horns : we are to have three vols. 8vo. of
" rost bif."* Theodore ! hast thou never ruminated the
axiom —
" Un diner rechauffe ne valut jamais rien ?"
iTom Campbell, hopeless of giving to public taste any
other save a foreign direction, has gone to Algiers, deter-
mined on exploring the recondite literature of the Bedouins.
He has made surprising progress in the dialects of Fez,
Tunis, and Mauritania ; and, like Ovid among the Scy-
thians—
" Jam didici Getic^ Sarmatic^que loqui."
He may venture too far into the interior, and some barbarian
priace may detain him as a laureate. We may hear of his
being " bound in Morocco."
This taste for foreign belles lettres is subject to variation
and vicissitude. The gorgeous imaginings of Oriental fancy,
of which the " Arabian Nights," and the elegant Eclogues
of Collins, were the dawn, have had their day : the sun of
the East has gone down, in the western tale of the " Mre-
worshippers." A surfeit is the most infallible cure ; we re-
collect the voracity with which " Lalla Eookh" was at first
devoured, and the subsequent disrelish for that most lusei-
*The projected republication of these facetice has not taken place,
though announced at the time in two volumes post 8vo. Albany
Fonblanque subsequently reprinted his articles from the " Examiner."
844 FATHEE PBOrT'S BELIQTJEB.
ous volume. There is an end to the popularity once enjoyed
by camels, houris, bulbuls, silver bells, silver veils, cinnamon
groves, variegated lamps, and such other stock items as made
up the Oriental show-box. This leads to a melancholy train
of thought : we detect ourselves " wandering in dreams "
to that period of our school-days when Tom was in high
feather, —
" And oft when alone, at the close of the year,
We think, — Is the nightingale singing there yet ?
Are the roses still sweet by the calm Bendemeer ?"
He has tried his hand at Upper Canada and Lower Egypt —
and spent some " Evenings in &reece ;" but " disastrous twi-
light" and the " chain of silence" (whatever that ornament
may be) now hangs over him.
"Horse Sinicse" found favour in the "barbarian eye;"
Viscount Kingsborough has been smitten with the brunette
muses of Mexico. Lord Byron once set up " Hebrew Melo-
dies," and had a season of it ; but Murray was soon compelled
to hang the noble poet's Jew's-harp on the willows of modern
Babylon. We recollect when there was a rage for German
and High Dutch poetry. The classics of Grreece andEome,
with their legitimate descendants, those of France, Italy,
and England, were flung aside for the writers of Scandinavia
and the poets of the Danube. Tired of nectar and ambrosia,
my public sat down to a platter of fauertraut with Kant,
Goethe, and Klopstock. The chimeras of transcendental
and transrhenane philosophers found admirers ! — 'twas the
reign of the nightmare —
" OmnigenAmque DeAm monstra, et latrator Anubis,
Contra Neptunum et Venerem, contraque Minerram.''
jEneid VIII.
But latterly Teutonic authors are at a discount ; and, in
spite of the German confederacy of quacks and dunces,
common sense has resumed its empire. Not that we object
to foreign literature, provided we get productions of genius
and taste. The Eomans in their palmiest days of conquest
gave a place in the Pantheon to the gods of each province
they had added to their empire ; but they took care to
select the most graceful and godlike of these foreign deities,
eschewing what was too ugly to figure in company with
THE SONGS OF ITAIT. 345
Apollo. Turn we now to Prout and his gleanings in the
fertile field of his selection, " Hesperia in magna."
OLIVER TOEKE.
March 1st, 1835.
WatergraaahiU, Feb. 1830.
I EESTJME to-night the topic of Italian minstrelsy. In
conniag over a paper penned by me a few evenings ago, I
do not feel satisfied with the tenour of my musings. The
start from the fountain of Yaucluse was fair ; but after
gliding along the classic Po and the majestic Tiber, it was
an unseemly termination of the essay to engulf itself in the
cavity of a bob-wig. An unlucky " cul de sac," into which
I must hwe strolled under sinister guidance. Did Molly
put an extra glass into my vesper bowl ?
• When the frost is abroad and the moon is up, and naught
disturbs the serenity of this mountain wilderness, and the
bright cheerful burning of the fragrant turf-fire betokens
the salubrity of the circumambient atmosphere, I experi-
ence a buoyancy of spirit unknown to the grovelling sen-
sualist or the votary of fashion. To them it rarely occurs
to know that highest state of enjoyment, expressed with
curious felicity in the hemistich of Juvenal, "ilfe«« sana in
eorpore sano." Could they relish with blind old Milton the
nocturnal visitings of poesy ; or feel the deep enthusiasm
of those ancient hermits who kept the desert awake with
canticles of praise ; or, with the oldest of poets,, the Ara-
bian Job, commune with heaven, and raise their thoughts to
the Being "who giveth songs in the night" (Job xxxv. 10),
they would acknowledge that mental luxuries are cheaply
purchased by the relinquishment of grosser delights. A
Greek (Eustathius) gives to Night the epithet of supjov;), or
"parent of happy thoughts:" and the " Noctes Atticse" of
Aulus Grellius are a noble prototype of numerous lucubra-
tions rejoicing in a similar title, — from the " MUle et nne
Nuits" to the " Notti Eomane al Sepolcro degli Seipioni,"
from Young's plaintive " Night Thoughts" to the " Ambro-,
346 TATHEB PEOUT'S EELIQTJBS.
sian" pemoctationa called ambrosiance, — all Gearing testi-
mony to the genial influence of the stilly hour. The bird of
Minerva symbolized wisdom, from the circumstance of its
contempt for the vulgarities of day ; and Horace sighs with
becoming emotion when he calls to his recollection the
glorious banquetings of thought and genius of which the
sable goddess was the ministrant — O noctes ccemegue DeHim !
Tertullian tells us, iu the second chapter of the immortal
" Apology," that the early Christians spent the night in
pious " melodies," that morning often dawned upon their
"songs" — antelucanis horis canebanf. He refers to the tes-
timony of PUny (the Proconsul's letter to Trajan) for the
truth of his statement. Tet, with all these matters staring
him in the face, Tom Moore, led away by his usual levity,
and addressing some foolish girl, thinks nothing of the pro-
posal " to steal a few hours from the night, my dear !" — a
sacriLege, which, in his eye, no doubt, amounted only to a
sort of petty larceny. But Tom Campbell, with that phi-
losophic turn of mind for which he is so remarkable, con-
nects the idea of inspiration with the period of " sunset :"
the evening of life, never failing to bring " mystical lore."
Impressed with these convictions, the father of Italian song,
in the romantic dwelling which he had built unto himself
on the sloping breast of the Euganeian hUls, spent the de-
cline of his days in the contemplation of loftiest theories,
varying his nocturnal devotions with the sweet sound of the
lute, and rapt in the alternate Elysium of piety and poetry.
In these ennobling raptures he exhaled the sweet perfume
of his mind's immortal essence, which gradually disengaged
itself from its vase of clay. " Oblivion stole upon his vestal
lamp :" and one morning he was found dead in his library,
reclining in an arm-chair, his head- resting on a book, 20th
July, 1374.
whether the enviable fate of Petrarca vdll be mine, I
know not. But, like him, I find in literature and the
congenial admixture of holier meditations a solace and a
comfort in old age. In his writings, in his loves, in his sor-
rows, in the sublime aspirations of his soul, I can freely
sympathise. Laura is to me the same being of exalted ex-
cellence and cherished purity ; and, in echoing from this
remote Irish hill the strains of his immortal lyre, I hope to
t''--l
UiM: IMI,, ;\,iN !I;
."5 f:'llE,ST'E,0,
THE SONGS 01' ITALY. 347
Bhare the tlessing which he has bequeathed to all who
Bhould advance and extend the fame of his beloved :
"Benedette Bian' le Toce taute ch' io
Chiamarido il nome di mia donna ho sparte,
E benedette sian' tutte le charte
Ove io fama ne acquisto."
My "papen" may promote his wishes in this respect. Dis-
engaged, from all , the ties that bind others to existence,'
solitary, childless, what .occupation more suitable to my,
remnant of life could I adopt than the exercise of memory
and mind of w^ich they are , the fruit ? When I shall seek
my lonely, pillow to7night, after " outwatching the bear," I
shall cheerfully consign; another document to "the chest,"
and bid it go join, in tha^ miscellaneous aggregate, ■ the
mental progeny of my , old age. This " cAei<" maybe the
coffin of my thoughts, or the cradle of my renown. In, it
my meditations may be matured by some kind editor into
ultimate manhood, to walk the world, and. teU; of .their pa-
rentage; .or ;else it m,ay prove a silent sarcophagus, where
they may moulder in decay., In .either case J aiji resigned..
I envy not the more fortunate candidates for pjiblic favour :
I hold enmity to none. For my read.er8,.if I have any, all
I expect on their, part is,' that they may, exhibit towards a
feeble garrulous old ■ man the same disposition he feels for
them. 'Odifl diavoiav.iyp fiiaxiKu ij(oiv v^oi-^vatjii u/j,ag Togaurrit
SiariXedrdi, /j,oi m'gog toutdvi tov aywi/ct, (Ajj/ioi!'^.,cr?|; ffrspav.)
This exordium of that, grand masterpiece, in which the
Athenian vindicates his title to a crown of gold presented
by his fellow-citizens, leads , me,, by. a natural transition, to
a memorable event in. IPetr.arca's life, -^ that ebullition
of enthusiasm, when the senators of Rome, at the sugges-
tion of Robert, King of Naples, and with the applause and
concurrence of all the;free states of Italy, led the poet in
triumph to the Capitol, and placed on his venerable head a
wreath of laxirel. The coronation of the laureate who first
bore the title, is too important to be lightly glanced at.
The ingenious Mad. de Stael (who has done more by her
"De I'Allemagne" to give vogue to Germanic literature
than the whole schiittery of Dutch authorship and tha
348 PATHEB PEOri'S EELIQXIES.
lanbeSfolge of Teutonic writers), in her romance of " Corin-
na," has seized with avidity on the incident.
Concerning thjs solemn incoronation, we have from the
pen of an eye-witness, Guido d' Arezzo, details, told in style
most quaint, and with sundry characteristic comments. Tk
those days of primeval simplicity, in the absence of eveiy
other topic of excitement (for the crusades had well nigh
worn themselves out of popular favour), the Selat attendant
on this occurrence possessed a sort of European interest.
The name of the " Laureate" (now worn by the Tenerahle
dweller of the lakes, the patriarch Southey) was then first
proclaimed, amid the shouts of applauding thousands, on
the seven hills of the Eternal City, and echoed back with
enthusiasm from the remotest corners of Christendom. In
a subsequent age, when the same honour, with the same im-
posing ceremonial, was to be conferred on Tasso, I doubt
whether the event would have enlisted to the same extent
the sympathies of Europe, or the feelings even of the Ita-
lian public. It were bootless, however, to dwell on the pro-
babilities of the case ; for Death interposed his veto, and
stretched out his bony hand between the laurel wreath and
the poor maniac's brow, who, on the very eve of the day
fixed for his ovation, expired on the Janiculum hill, in the
romantic hermitage of St. Onufrio. Oft have I sat under
that same cloister- wall, where he loved to bask in the mild
ray of the setting sun, and there, with Eome's awful volume
spread out before me, pondered on the frivolity of fame.
The ever-enduring vine, with its mellow freight dependent
from the antique pillars, clustered above my head ; while at
my feet lay the flagstone that once covered his remains ; and
" OssA ToBQTTATi Tassi," deep carved on the marble floor,
abundantly fed the meditative mind. Petrarca's grave I
had previously visited in the mountain hamlet of Arqu?i,
during my rambles through Lombardy ; and whUe I silently
recalled the inscription thereon, I breathed for both the
prayer that it contains —
" BEIGIDA rBANCISCI TEOIT HIO I.APIS OSSA PETEAEOa; !
BUSCIPE, VIBGO PAEENS, ANIMAM ! SATE* VXBaiNE, PAEOB!
PEBSAQITE J^AM TEEEIS, 0(EH EEQUIESCAT IN AEOE."
• The Eev. Lawrence Sterne, in his very reputable work called
THE SOiraS OF ITALY. 349
But a truce to this moralising train of thought, and turn
we to the gay scene described by Guido d' Arezzo. Be it
then understood, that on the morning of Easter Sunday,
April 15, 1341, a period of the ecclesiastical year at which
crowds of pilgrims visited the shrine of the apostles, and
Eome was thronged with the representatives of every Chris-
tian land, after the performance of a solemn high mass in
the old Basilica of St. Peter's (for religion in tho^e daya
miied itself up with every public act, and sanctified every
undertaking), the decree of Eobert, King of Naples, was
duly read, setting forth how, after a diligent examination
and trial in all the departments of poetry and all the ac-
complishments of elegant literature, in addition to a know-
ledge most extensive of theology and history, Francis Pe-
trarca had evinced unparalleled proficiency in all the recog-
nised acquirements of scholarship, and given undoubted
proofs of ability and genius ; wherefore, in his favour, it
seemed fit and becoming that the proudest mark of distinc-
tion known among the ancient B.omans should be conferred
on him, and that all the honours of the classic triumph
should be revived on the occasion. It will be seen, how-
ever, from the narrative of Guido, that some slight variations
of costume and circumstailce were introduced in the course
of the exhibition, and that the getting up of the afiair was
not altogether in literal accordance with the rubrics which
regulated such processions in the days of Paulus ^milius,
when captive kings and the milk-white bulls of Clytumnua
adorned the pageantry —
"Komanos ad templa Deiim dusSfe trimnphos."
Georg. II.
" They put on his right foot (Guido loquitur) a sandal of
red leather, cut in a queer shape, and fastened round the
ankle with purple ligatures. This is the way tragic poets
are shod. His left foot they thefl. inserted into a kind of
" Tristram Shandy," has the effrontery to translate tte curse of Emel-
phuB, Sx autoritate Deiet Virginia Dei geneiricts Maria, "By the autho-
rity of God and of the Virgin, mother and patroness of our Saviour '!"
thus distorting the original, to insinuate prejudice against a class of
fello-w-Christians. Objection may he felt to the predominance of the
feeling in question, — but fair play, Torick ! — PBorT.
350 PATHEE PEOTTT'S EEHQTIES.
buskin of violet colour, made fast to the leg with blue
thongs. This is the emblem worn by writers in the comic
line, and those who compose agreeable and pleasant matters.
Violet is the proper colour of love.
" Over his tunic, which was of grey silk, they placed a
mantle of velvet, lined with green satin, to show that a
poet's ideas should always be fresh and new. Bound his
neck they hung a chain of diamonds, to signify that his
thoughts should be brilliant and clear. There are many
mysteries in poetry.
" They then placed on his head a mitre of gold cloth,
tapering upwards in a conical shape, that the wreaths and
garlands might be more easily worn thereon. It had two
tails, or skirts, falling behiud on the shoulders like the mitre
of a bishop. There hung by his side a lyre (which is the
poet's instrument), suspended from a gold chain of inter-
woven figures of snakes, to give him to understand that his
mind itiust figuratively change its skin, and constantly re-
new its envelope, like the serpent. When they had ttus
equipped him, they gave him a your.g maiden to hold up his
train, her hair falling loose in ringlets, and her feet naked.
She was dressed in the fur of a bear, and held a lighted
torch. This is the emblem of folly, and is a constant at-
tendant on poets !"
When "the business of day" was over, the modem
fashion of winding up such displays was perfectly well un-
derstood even at that remote period, and a dinner was given
to the lion of the hour in the still-sumptuous hall of the
Palazzo Colonna. His " feeding-time" being duly got
through, poetry and music closed the eventful evening ; and
Petrarca delighted his noble host and the assembled rank
and fashion of E,ome by dancing a Moorish pas seul with
surprising grace and agility.
Covered with honours, and flushed with the applause of
his fellow-countrymen, the father of Italian songwasnot
insensible to the fascinations of literary renown, nor deaf to
the whisperings of glory ; but love, the most exalted and
refined, was still the guiding star of his path and the arbiter i
of his destiny. He has left us the avowal himself, in that
beautiful record of his inmost feelings which he has entitled
" Secretum !Francisci Petrarchse," where, in a fancied dia-
THE SONGS OF ITALT. 351
logue with the kindred soul of St. Augustin, he pours forth
the fuhieaa of his heart with all the sincerity of nature aud
of genius. No two clerical characters seem to have been
endowed by nature with more exquisite sensibilities than
the African bishop and the priest of Provence. In the midst
of his triumph his thoughts wandered away to the far-
distant object of his affection ; and his miad was at Vaur
cluse while the giddy throng of his admirers showered
garlands and burnt incense around his person. He fondly
■pictured to himself the secret pride which the ladye of his
•love would perhaps feel ia hearing of his fame ; and the
laurel was doubly dear to him, because it recalled her cher-
ished name. The utter hopelessness of his passion seemed
to shed an undefinable haUowedness over the sensations of
his heart ; and it must have been in one of those moments
of tender melancholy that he penned the following graceful,
but mysterious narrative of a supposed or real apparition.
Soiutto.
TTna Candida cerra sopra 1' erba
Verde m' apparve con duo coma d' ore
!Pra due riviere all' ombra d' un alloro,
Levaudo '1 sole alia stagiou acerba.
Era sua vista si dolce superba,
Ch' i' lasciai per seguirla ogni lavoro ;
' , Come 1' avaro che 'n ceroar tesoro,
Con diletto 1' affanno disacerba.
" Nesstin mi tocchi," al bel coUo d' intorno
Scritto aveva di diamanti, e di topazj ;
" LiBBEA SASMl AL MIO CeSAEB PAEVB."
Ed era '1 sol gi^ volto al mezzo giorno
■ GU oeobi miei stanchi di mirar, non sasi
4 Quand' io caddi neU' acqua, ed ella sparve.
Eljt Titian of ^ttrarta.
A form I sawwith secret awe — nor ken I what it warns ;
Pure as the snow, a gentle doe it seemed with sUrer horns.
Erect she stood, close by a wood between two running streams ;
And brightly shone the morning sun upon that land of dreams 1
The pictured hind fancy designed glowing with love and hope j
Graceful she stept, but distant tept, hke the timid antelope ;
Playful, yet coy — with secret joy her image filled my soul;
, And o'er the sense soft influence of sweet obHviou stole.
352 FATHEE PBOTJt'S EEMQrES.
Gold I beheld and emerald on the collar that she wore ;
Words too — but theirs were characters of legendary lore :
" <ffa=ar's Btcrtc lialJ) maot me fret ; anB lljro' Ijia solemn cliarge,
ffintoutl)t'D bg men o'er i)ill anf gl't E inanBei: Iiere at large."
The sun had now with radiant brow climbed his meridian throne,
Yet still mine eye untiringly gazed on that lovely one.
A Toice was heard — quick disappeared my dream. The spell was
broken.
Then came distress — to the consciousness of life I had awoken !
Still, the soul of Petrarca was at times accessible to
sterner impressions. The call of patriotism never failed to
find a responsive echo in the breast of Italy's most distin-
guished son ; and v^fhen, at the death of Benedict XII.,
which occurred at this juncture, there arose a favourable
chance of serving his country, by restoring the papal re-
sidence to the widowed city of Home, he eagerly offered
himself as one of the deputies to proceed to Avignon for
the accomplishment of this wished-for consummation.
Whether a secret anxiety to revisit the scene of his early
affections, and to enjoy once more the presence of his mis-
tress, may have mixed itself up with the aspirations of
patriotism, it would not be easy to decide ; but he entered
into the project with all the warmth of a devoted lover of
Italy. His glorious dithyramb to that delightful, but con-
quered and divided land, so often quoted, translated, and
admired, is sufficient evidence of his sentiments : but he
has taken care to put the matter beyond doubt in his vi-
gorous pamphlet, " De Libertate capessend^ Exhorbatio ad
Nicolaum Laurentium." This " Nicholas" was no other than
the famous tribune Cola Eienzi, who, mainly excited by the
prose as well as the poetry of Petrarca, raised the standard
of independence against the petty tyrants of the Eternal
City in 1345, and for a brier s'jace rescued it from thraldom.
Poetry is the nurse of freedom. Prom Tyrtaeus to B^
ranger, the Muse has befriended through everyage the cause
of liberty. The pulse of patriotism never beats with bolder
throb than when the sound of martial song swells in the full
chorus of manly voices ; and it was in a great measure the
rude energy of the " Marseillaise" that won for the ragged
and shoeless grenadiers of the Convention the victories of
Yalmy and Jemmappe. In our own country, Dibdin's
THE SONGS OF ITALY.
353
naval odes, full of inspiriting thouglit and sublime imagery,
have not a little contributed to our maintaining in penlous
times the disputed empire of the ocean against Napoleon.
Never was a pension granted with more propriety than the
tribute to genius voted in this case at the recommendation
of G-eorge III. ; and I suppose a similar revrard has attended
the authors of the " Mariners of England," and "The Battle
of Copenhagen." As we have come insensibly to the topic
of maritime minstrelsy, I imagine that a specimen of the
stuff sung by the Venetian sailors, at the time when that
Queen of the Adriatic reigned over the waters, may not be
uninteresting. The subject is the naval victory which, at
the close of the sixteenth century, broke the colossal power
of the Sublime Porte ; for which occurrence, by the by,
Europe was mainly indebted to the exertions of Pope Pius V.
and the prowess of one Miguel Cervantes, who had a limb
shattered in the mdlSe.
JSarjcUctta tia cantar ptr le 'Ftttorta "Hi Hepanto.
Cantiam tutti allegramente,
Orsu, putti ! atteutamente
Cantiam tutti la rovuia
Ch' alia gente Saracina
Dato liaX)io si fortemente.
Cantiam tutti aUegramente,
Che con straocio al fier dragone
Squarcid il fponte si orudele,
Che mai piil drizzer^ vele,
Che nel mar sia si possente.
Cantiam tutti allegramente,
Cantiam, putti ! pur ognora,
Ch' il ladron di Caracossa
Fatt' ha 1' Aqua-salsa rossa
Del suo sangue di serpente.
Cantiam, putti ! aUegramente,
Di tre sei d' otto e di venti
Gtaleotte e altri legni
Fii il fracasso — o Turehi ! degni
Del gran fuoco etemamente !
Cantiam pur allegramente,
Come poi piii delle venti
Ne fur prese cento ed ottanta,
E dei morti poi sessanta
Mila e piil di queUa gente.
Cantiam tiitti aUegramente ;
Ma ben duohni a dir ch' i nostri
Pur da Bette mila ed otto
Ivi morti (ae '1 ver noto),
Combattendo audaoemente.
Cantiam tutti aUegramente,
Dope questi, altri guerrieri
Yendicar coll' arme in mano
QueUi e il nom Christiano,
Per virtft d' Iddio clemente.
Cantiam tutti aUegramente ;
Per cotal vittoria e tauta,
Doveremmo ogni an far festa,
Per che al mondo altra che questa
!Non fd mai d' alcuno in mente.
A A
354 rATHEB peout's eeliqtjes.
i^opular JSallaU on tl^e 33attl( of ilepanto.
Let us sing how the boast of the Saracen host
In the gulf of Lepanto was spattered.
When each knight of St. John's from his cannon of bronzd
With grape-shot their argosies battered.
Oh ! we taught the Turks then that of Europe the men
Could defy every infidel menace —
And that still o'er the main float the galleys of Spain,
And the red-Uon standard of Venice !
Quick we made the foe skulk, as we blazed at each hulk,
While they left us a splinter to fire at ;
And the rest of them fled o'er the waters, blood red
With the gore of the Ottoman pirate ;
And oiir navy gave chase to the infidel race,
Nor allowed them a moment to rally ;
And we forced them at length to acknowledge our strength
In the trench, in the field, in the galley ! ,
Then our men gave a shout, and the ocean throughout
Heard of Christendom's triumph with rapture.
CJaleottes eighty-nine of the enemy's line
To our swift-sailing ships fell a capture :
And I firmly maintain that the number of slain.
To at least sixty thousand amounted ; —
To be sure 'twas sad work — if the Ufe of a Turk
For a moment were worth being counted.
We may well feel elate ; though I'm sorry to state.
That albeit by the myriad we've slain 'em,
Still, the sons of the Cross have to weep for the loss
Of sir thousand who fell by the Paynim.
Full atonement was due for each man that they sleWj
And a hecatomb paid for each hero :
But oouM all that we'd kill give a son to Castile,
Or to Malta a brave cavalh&o ?
St. Mark for the slain intercedes not in vain —
There's a mass at each altar in Venice j
And the saints we implore for the banner they bore
Are Our Lady, St. George, and St. Denis.
For the brave while we grieve, in our hearts they shall live-
In our mouths shall their praise be incessant ;
And again and again we wiU boast of the men
Who have humbled the pride of the Crescent.
The Venetians have been ever remarkable for poetic
fcaste ; and the verv humblest classes of society amongst
THE SONGS OE ITALY.
855
them exhibit a fondness for the great masters of their native
language, and a familiarity with the glorious effusions of the
national genius, quite unknown in the corresponding rank
of tradesmen and artisans ia England. Goldoni, who wrote
in their own dialect, knew the sort of critics he had to deal
with : and it is a fact that the most formidable judges of
dramatic excellence at the theatres of Venice were the gon-
doliers. Addison, or rather Isaac Bickerstaff, tells us a
droll story about a certain trunkmaker, who stationed him-
self in the gallery of Drury Lane, and with a whack of his
oaken cudgel ratified the success or confirmed the downfal
of each new tragic performance. I think the author of the
" Spectator" must have had the original hint of that anec-
dote during his stay at Venice, where such a verdict from
such a quarter was a matter of habitual occurrence. There
is great delicacy of feeling and polish of expression in the
following ingenious popular barcarolle of Venetian origin: —
JSarcavolle.
"Prithee, young fisherman, como
over —
Hither thy light hark hring ;
Eow to this bank, and try recover
My treasure — 'tis a ring !"
The fisher-boy of Como'a lake
His bonny boat soon brought her.
And promised for her beauty's sake
To search beneath the water.
" m give thee," said the ladye fair,
" One hundred sequins bright.
If to my viUa thou wilt bear,
Fisher, that ring to-night."
"A hundred sequins I'U refuse
When I shall come at eve :
But there is something, if you
choose.
Lady, that you can give !"
The ring was found beneath the
floods
Nor need my lay record
What was that lady's gratitude,
What was that youth's reward.
A \2
Oh pescator dell' onda,
Kdelin,
Vieni pescar in qui
CoUa beUa sua barca.
CoUa bella se ne va,
Fidelin, hn, Ih.
Che cosa vuol ch' io peschi ?
Fidelin,
L'anel ohe m' e casca,
Colla bella sua barca.
Colla bella se ne va, &c.
Ti dar6 cento scudi,
Fidelin,
Sta borsa ricama,
Colla bella sua barca.
CoUa bella se ne va, &c.
Won vogHo cento scudi,
Fidelin,
Ne borsa ricama,
Colla beUa sua barca.
CoUa bella se ne va, &c.
Io vo un basin d' amore,
Fidelin,
Che quel mi paghera,
CoUa bella sua bocca.
CoUa bella se ne va, &c.
356
TATHEE PEOUT'S EELIQUES.
A Milanese poet, rejoicing in tbe intellectual patronymic
of Nicodemo, has distinguished himself in a different species
of composition, viz. the heroic. There is, however, I am
free to confess, a rather ungenerous sort of exultation over
a fallen foe perceptible in the lyrical poem which I am
about to introduce for the first time to a British public.
Dryden has very properly excited our commiseration for
" Darius, great and good, deserted in his utmost need
by those his former bounty fed ;" but far different are the
sentiments of Signor Nicodemo, who does not hesitate to
denounce the vanquished in no very measured terms of op-
probrious invective. I suspect he has been equally profuse
of lavish encomium during its prosperous days on that
power which he seeks to cover with derision in its fall : and
I need not add that I totally dissent from the political
opinions of the author. However, let the gentle reader
form his own estimate of the poet's performance.
Ha iFuga,
di Napoleone Bonaparte senza
spada, e senza bastone, e
senza capello, eferito in tes-
ta; T acquisto fatto dei Prus-
siani de oro, argento, bril-
lanii, e di suo manta impe-
riale l e finalmente il felice
ritomo netla citta di Parigi
di sua maestci, Luigi XVI 1 1.
Di Nicodemo Lermil.
AttiA di "Malbrook."'
Grii* TiQto Napoleone
Con fuga desperata,
Era la Frussiana annata
Di trapassar tentd ;
Ma sgombro di tesori,
Deluso nei disegni —
Privo d'impero e regni,
Qual nacque, ritom6.
Afflitto e delirante,
Confuso e sbigottito,
Col capo suo ferito,
H misero fuggi.
a Cruf JSallall,
containing the Flight of Napoleon Buona-
parte, with the loss of his sword, his hat,
and imperial baton, besides a wound in the
head; the good luck of the Prussians in
getting hold of his valuables, in diamonds
and other property : and, lastly, the happy
entry of his Majesty, Louis Dixhuit, into
Paris,
From the Italian of Nicodemus Lermil.
Tune — " Ou Linden when."
When Bonaparte, OTercome,
Med from the sound of Prussian drum,
Aghast, discomfited, and dumb,
Wrapt in hia roquelaure, —
To wealth and power he bade adieu —
Affairs were looking Prussia blue :
In emblematic tatters flew
The glorious tricolor.
What once had seemed flxt as a rook,
Had now received a fatal shock ;
And he himself had got a knock
Prom a Cossack on the head !
THE SONGS OP ITALY.
S57
Senza poter portarsi,
Spada, baeton, capeUo,
Involto in vin mantello
Da tutt' i Buoi spari.
Argento, oro, brillanti,
n manto suo imperiale,
Con gioia universale
Da' Prussi s' aoquistS.
Ma non potfe acqviistarsi
(Ben che non y' h paura)
L' autor d' ogni sventura,
Che tutti rovinb.
Pugitto Buonaparte,
Subito eutrd in Parigi
H buon sovran Luigi,
Che tutti rallegrb.
Fft la citt^ di notte
Da ognuno illuminata ;
Piil vista amena e grata
Giammai non si mirS.
Eimbombo di canoni,
Aeclamaziou di "Ewiva! '
Per tutto se sentiva
SYequente repHcar.
La Candida bandiera,
Coi giglj che teneva,
Per tutto si vedeva
Piil speseo ventilar.
Spettacolo si vago,
Eioordo si giocondo,
Parigi, Italia, U mondo,
Fe tutti consolar.
Perche ftiggl ramingo,
E con suo desonore,
li' indegno usurpatore —
E non pu6 pi regnar.
Murat e Wapoleone
Tenete i cuori a freuo
Non vi awiUte almeno
Che e cosa da schiattar.
Gone was his hat, lost was his hope ;
The hand, that once had smote the Pope,
Had even dropped its telescope
In the hurry as he fled.
Old Bluoher''s corps a capture made
Of his mantle, sabre, and cockade ;
Which in "Kag Fair" would, " from the
trade,"
No doubt a trifle fetch.
But though the Prussians ('tis confest)
Of aU his wardrobe got the best,
(Besides the military chest).
Himself they could not catch.
He's gone somewhere beyond the seas.
To expiate his rogueries :
King Louis iu the TuUeries
Has recommenced to reign.
Gladness pervades the allied camps.
And nought the public triumph damps ;
But every house is lit with lamps.
E'en in each broken pane.
Paris is one vast scene of joy ;
And all her citizens employ
Their throats in shouting Vive le roi ■'
Amid the roar of cannon.
Oh ! when they saw the " blanc drapeau"
Once more displayed, they shouted so
You could have heard them from the Po,
Or from the banks of Shannon.
Gadzooks ! it was, upon my fay,
An European holyday ;
And the land laughed, and all were gay,
Except the aam culottes.
You'd see the people playing cards.
And gay grisettes and dragoon guards
Dancing along the boulevards —
Of brandy there were lots !
Now, Bonaparte and Murat,
My worthy heroes ! after that,
I'd like to know what you'll be at —
I think you must feel nervous
358 TATHEE PEOTJT'S EEIiIQrES.
Ma se desperazione Perhaps you are not so besotted
Mai Ti togliesse il lume As to be cutting the "carotid" —
II pill vicino flume But there's the horsepond ! — there, odd
Potete ritrovar. rot it !
From such an end preserve us !
If this poet Nicodemo be in reality what I surmise he is,
a literary renegade, and a wretch whose venal lyre gjves
I'orth alternate eulogy and abuse, just aa the political ther-
mometer indicates rise or fall, I should deem him a much
fitter candidate for the " horsepond" than either Bony or
•Toachim. But, alas ! how many sad instances have we not
linown of similar tergiversation in the conduct of gens de
lettres ! I just mentioned Dryden, commonly denominated
" glorious John," and what a sad example is there of poli-
tical dishonesty ! After flattering in turns Cromwell and
Charles II., King James and King William, he died of a
broken heart, deserted by all parties. In his panegyric on
canting old NoE., it would seem that the poet was at a loss
how to grapple with his mighty subject, could not discover
a beginning to his praise : the perfect rotundity of the
theme precluding the possibility of finding commencement
or end :
" Within a fame so truly circular .'"
But turning from such conceits, and from courtly writers,
to a simpler style of thought, may I think this trifling, but
genuine rustic lay worthy of perusal ? —
(Sanjomtta. ©illage ^ong;.
Son povera ragazza, Husbands, they tell me, gold hath won
E cerco di marito ; More than aught else beside :
Se trovo buon partito. Gold I have none ; can I find one
Mi TogUo maritar.. To take me for his bride ?
Ma ohi sa ? Tet who knows
Chi lo sa ? How the wind blows—
lo cerco di marito, Or who can say
Se lo posso ritrovar ? I'll not find one to-day ?
lo faccio la sartora, I can embroider, I can sew —
Questo 6 il mio mestieroj A husband I could aid ;
Ti dioo si davvcro, I have no dowry to bestow —
E so ben travagiiar. Must I remain a maid ?
Ma chi sa ? Yet who knows
Ohi lo sa ? How the wind blows —
lo cerco di marito, Or who can say
Se lo posso ritrovar ? I'll not find one to-day ?
THE SONGS 01' ITALY. 359
Gi^ d' anni venticinque A simple maid I've been too long —
Mi troTO cosi sola, A husband I would find ;
Ti giuro e do parola But then to ast — no ! — that were wrong;
Mi sento al fin manoar. So I must be resigned.
Ma chi sa ? Yet who knows
Chi lo sa ? How the wind blows—
lo oerco di maiito, Or who can say
Se lo poBso ritroTar ? I'll not find one to-day ?
Simplicifcy is the inseparable companion of the graces ;
and the extreme perfection of art is to conceal itself imder
the guise of unstudied negligence. This excellence is only
attaiuable by a few ; and among the writers of antiquity is
most remarkable in the pages of Xenophon. Never will
the " true ease in writiag," which, according to that most
elaborate, but stiU. most fluent writer. Pope, " comes from
pxb, not chance," be acquired otherwise than by a diligent
study of the old classics, "and in particular of what Horace
calls the exemplaria Grceea. Flaccus himself, in his sermo
pedestris, as well as his inimitably lyrics, has given us beaa-
tifal specimens of what seems the spontaneous flow of un-
studied fancy, but it is in reality the result of deep thought
and of constant linuB labor. Menziui, the author of the
foUowLug sonnet on a very simple subject, must have drunk
deeply at the source of Greciau elegance. '
il Capro.
Menzini.
Quel eapro maledetto ha preso in uso
Gir trS, le vite, e sempre in lor s'impaccia :
Deh ! per farlo soordar di simU traccia,
Dagli d' un sasso tra le coma e '1 muao.
Se Bacco fl guata, ei scenderS, ben giuso
Da (juel suo carro, a cui le tigri allaooia ;
Pill ferooe lo sdegno oltre si oacoia
Quand' h con quel suo Tin' misto e confiiso.
Fa di scacoiarlo, Elpia ; fa che non stenda
MaUgno il dente ; e piil non roda in yetta
L' uve nascenti, ed il lor nume ofienda.
Di lui so ben ch' un di 1' altar 1' aspetta ;
Ma Bacco e da temer che ancor non prenda
Del capro insieme e del pastor vendetta.
360 TATHEB PEOUT'S EEIIQUES.
C]^t jfntruUti-.
There's a goat in the vineyard ! an unbidden guest-
He comes here to deyour and to trample ;
If he keep not aloof, I must make, I protest.
Of the trespassing rogue an example.
Let this stone, which I fling at his ignorant head.
Deep imprest in his skull leave its moral, —
That a four-footed beast 'mid the vines should not tread,
Nor attempt with great Bacchus to quarrel.
Should the god on his oar, to which tigers are yoked.
Chance to pass^and espy such a scandal,
Quick he'd mark his displeasure— most justly provoked
At the sight of this four-footed Vandal.
To encounter his vfrath, or be foxmd on his path,
In the spring when his godship is sober,
SiUy goat ! would be rash ; — and you fear not the lash
Of the god in the month of October !
In each himch, thus profaned by an insolent tooth.
There has perish' d a goblet of nectar j
Fitting vengeance will follow those gambols uncoutli,
For the grape has a jealous protector.
On the altar of Bacchus a victim must bleed,
To avert a more serious disaster ;
Lest the ire of the deity visit the deed
Of the goat on his negligent master.
It is no part of my code of criticism to tolerate, under
the plea of simplicity, that maudlin, emasculate style super-
induced among the Italians by their language's fatal fertDity
in canorous rhymes. The very sweetness and nielody of their
idiom is thus not unfrequently the bane of original thought
and of forcible expressioh :
Deh ! fosse tu men beUa, o almen piii forte !
" Nugm canora " might form a sort of running marginal com-
ment on almost every page of Metastasio ; and few indeed
are the passages in the works of some of his more celebrated
fellow-countrymen which can bear to be submitted to the
test of translation. This experimental process will ever be
destructive of whatever relies on mere euphonous phrase-
ology for its effect ; and many a favourite Italian efiusion
has succumbed to the ordeal. I would instance the " Bacco
in Toscana " of Eedi, which the graceful pen of Leigh Himt
THE SONGS OP ITALY. 361
Bouglit in vain to popularise in English. So true it is that
nothing can compensate for a lack of ideas — not even Delia
Cruscan parlance issuing from a " bocca Romana." Lord
Byron (" Childe Harpld," iv. 38), in vindication of Tasso
from the sarcasm of a French critic, denounces, perhaps
justly, G-aUia's
" creaking lyre,
That whetstone of the teeth, monotony in wire :''
for it is admitted that the metallic strings he thus attributes
to the !Prench instrument cannot vie in. liquid harmony vsdth
the softer catgut of its rival. But were his lordship suffici-
ently conversant with the poets of TVance, he would perhaps
find that fhei/ rarely substitute for rational meaning mere
empty sound. It cannot, on the other hand, be denied, that
when a language is thoroughly pervaded with what the Greeks
call o/io/oreXsuroi/, running, in fact, spontaneously into rhyme,
it offers manifold temptations to the inditing of what are
called " nonsense verses." Like the beasts of old entering
Noah's Ark two and two, the couplets of the Italian versifier
pair themselves of their ovm accord without the least trouble.
But, unfortunately, one of the great recommendations of
rhyme, as of metrical numbers, to the intellect is, the con-
sciousness involved of a difficulty overcome : and hence pre-
cisely was the admiration excited by the inventive faculty of
the poet early characterised in the words " trouvere," " trouba-
dour," from " trouver," to "find." If there be no research
requisite — if the exploit be one of obvious facility — the mind
takes no interest in the iaglorious pxirsuit, which, under
such circumstances, appears flat and unmeaning. A genuine
poet, as well as his reader, enjoys the mental chase in. pro-
portion to the wild and untameable nature of the game. In
a word, Italian " bouts rimh " are far too easUy bagged : the
sportsman's occupation on Parnassus becomes an effeminate
pastime ; 'tis, in fact, mere pigeon-shooting : whereas " optat
aprum" has been always predicated of the classic hunter;
and Jemmy Thomson very properly observes, that
' Poor is the triumph o'er the timid hare !"
An ingenious Frenchman (the Chevalier de la JFaye), in
his "Apology" for the supposed difficulties of rhyme in our
362 FATHEE PEOUt's EELIQTTES.
Cisalpine dialects, maintains the theory I here propound, ia
some very felicitous lines, where, pointing the attention of
his countrymen to the numerous jets d'eau that ornament
the gardens of the Tuileries, Versailles, and St. Cloud, he
steps up a striking parallel, not less witty than true. The
strophe runs thus : —
De la contrainte rigoureuse From tlie rhyme's restriotive rigour
Oil I'esprit semble resemS, Thought derives its impulse oft,
II aoquiert une force heurense G-enius draws new strength andvigour,
Q,ui Televe au plus haut d^gre; Fancy springs and shoots aloft.
Telle dans des canaux pressee So, in leaden conduits pent,
Avec plus de force elanoee, Mounts the liquid element,
L'onde s'^lfeve dans les airs, — By pressure forced to cUmb :
Et la r^gle qui semble austere And he who feared the rule's restraint
N'est qu'un art plus certain de Finds but a friendly ministrant
plaire, In Season's helpmate, Ehtme.
Inseparable des beaux vers.
I must add, that long previously the same doctrine' had
been included by the grammarian Vossius, in his tract " De
Viribus Cantiis et Eythmi," where he remarks, "Mc rations
non ornatui tanthn, sed et verborum consulitur copite." Hence
it would follow, that far from being a bar to the birth of
genuine poetry among the Northerns, the difficulties of a
ruder idiom only give an impulse to the exertion of the
faculty itself, and a relish to the enjoyment of its produc-
tions. It becomes sufficiently obvious, from what we have
laid down, that restrictions and shackles are the very essence
of rhythmic writing ; by devoting himself to which, the. poet
assumes, of his own free will, the situation of " Prometheus
vinctus ;" and, in a spirit akin to that of St. Paul, openly
professes his predilection for " these bonds." Prose may
rejoice in its Latin designation of soluta oratio ; but a vo-
luntary thraldom is the natural condition of poetry, as may
be inferred from the converse term, oratio striata. The Ita-
lian poet is distinguishable among his feUow-captives by the
light aerial nature of his fetters ; and versi sciolti may be
applied to more than one species of his country's versifica-
tion. This will strike any one who takes up the libretto of
an opera. Nevertheless, let us envy not the smooth and
Sybarite stanza, nor covet the facile and flowing vocabulary,
nor complain of the wild and irregular terminations with
which we have to struggle. There is more dignity in the
THE SONGS 01' ITALY. 3G3
march of a manly barbarian than in the gait of an enervated
fop ; and with all the cumbrous irons of a rude language,
were it but for his very mode of bearing the chains, a Briton
win be stUl admired as he treads the paths of poetry :
Intaotns aut Britannus ut descenderet
Sacr^ cateuatua vi&.
Epod. vii.
I shall not be accused of travelling out of the record in
touching incidentally on this matter, which, indeed, woidd
properly require a special dissertation. But to return to
my theme. Prom among those numerous compositions of
which the "moon," a "nightingale," a "grove," and a
" lady's balcony," form the old established ingredients in all
languages, I shall select the following Italian specimen,
which, if it present little novelty of invention, has, en re-
vanche, decidedly the charm of sweetest melody of ex-
pression.
Yitlorelli.
Giiarda che bianca luna ! Blla che il sente appena
Qxiarda che notte azzurra j Gri^ vien di fronda in fronda,
Uu' auranon susurra, E par che gli responda
Non tremola \ma stel. Ifon piangere, eon qui.
li' usignuoletto solo Che dolci afietti, o Irene,
Va dalla siepe all' omo Che gemiti eon questi !
B BOBpirando intomo Ah ! mai tu non sapesti
Chiania la sua fidel. Kispondermi cosi.
^ ^ereitatle.
Pale to-night is the disc of the moon, and of azure unmixt
Is the bonny blue sky it lies on ;
And silent the streamlet, and hushed is the zephyr, and fixfc
Is each star in the cabn horizon j
And the hamlet is lulled to repose, and aU nature is BtiU-r-
How soft, how mild her slumbers !
And naught but the nightingale's note is awake, and the thrill
Of his sweetly plaintive numbers.
His song wakes an echo ! it comes from the neighbouring grove^
Love's sweet responsive anthem !
Lady ! list to the vocahst ! dost thou not envy his love !
And the joys his mate will grant him ?
364 TATHEE PBOTTT'S EELIQUES.
Oh, smile on thy lover to-night ! ,let a transient hope
Ease the heart with sorrow laden :
From yon balcony wave the fond signal a moment — and ope
Thy casement, fairest maiden !
The author of the above is a certain Yittorelli, celebrated
among the more recent poets of Italy for the smooth ame-
nity of his Anacreontics ; of which, however, I regret to
say that many are of a very washy consistency, generally
constituting, when submitted to critical analysis, that sort
of chemical residuum which the French would call " de I'eau
claire." An additional sample of his style wiU convey a
sufficient notion of his own and his brethren's capabilities
in the sentimental line : but ere we give the Italian original
with our " translation," it were advisable to attune our ear
to the harmony of true " nonsense verse," of which Dean
Swift has left mankind so famous a model in the memorable
ode—
Fluttering, spread thy purple pinions,
Q-entle Cupid ! o'er my heart ;
While a slave in thy domiuious,
Nature must give way to art.
Mild Arcadians ! ever blooming,
Nightly nodding o'er your flocks,
See my weary days consuming.
All beneath your flowery rooks.
CHoomy Pluto, king of terrors !
Arm'd in adamantine chains,
Lead me to the crystal mirrors
Watering soft Elysian plains.
Mournful cypress, verdant willow,
Gilding my AureUa's brows ;
Morpheus, hovering o'er my pillow.
Hear me say my dying vows !
Melancholy, smooth meander .'
Sweetly purling in a round ;
On thy margin lovers wander,
AH with flowery ehaplets crowned—
i. e. " all round my hat." Now for Yittorelli.
'IIiE Gift o£ Vmus
THE SONGS OF ITALY.
363
{I iBmio Jji JiFeneie. C^e (gift of ®tnu5.
Cinta le bionde ohiome With roses wreathed around his ringlets,
Delia matema rosa Steeped in drops of matin dew,
Sull' alba mgiadosa, Grhding soft on silken winglets,
Venne il fanoiuUo Amor. Oupid to my study flew ;
On my table a decanter
Stood — perhaps there might be two —
When I had with the enchanter
(Happy bard !) this interview.
Sure it was the loveliest vision
Ever poet gazed upon —
Rapt in ecstasy Elysian,
Or iuspired by cruiskeen lawn.
"Poet," said the urchin, " few are
So far favoured among men —
Venus sends by me to you her
Compliments and a new pen.
" Taie this quiU — 'tis soft and slender,
Fit for writing billets dovjc.
Fond avowals, breathings tender.
Which Iren^ may peruse.
'Tis no vulgar acquisition —
'Twas from no goose pinion drawn ;
But, by Leda's kind permission,
Borrowed from her favourite swan.
" Si^Uy not the virgin candour
Of its down so white and rare ;
Let It fie'er be dipp'd in slander,
. 'Gtainst the witty or the fair.
•. : ' Lend it not to that Patlauder
• ; J Denny Lafdner ; nor to Watts
(Si^t ' Ahuiio Alexander') ;
Let some dull, congenial gander
Furnish charlatans and sots."
What a difference between the feeble and effeminate tone
of these modern effusioris, and the bold, manly, and fre-
quently sublime conceptions of the bards ■who wrote in the
golden age of Leo X., under the influence of that magic
century which gave birth to such a crowd of eminent per-
sonages in all the walks of literature ! The name of Michel
Angelo is familiar to most reader's in the character of an
artist ; but few, perhaps, wiU be prepared to make his
acquaintance in the capacity of a poet. Nevertheless, it
gives me satisfaction to have it in my power to introduce
the illustrious Buonarotti in that unexpected character.
E colla dolce bocca
Mi disse in aria lieta .—
" Che fai gcntU poeta
D' Irene lodatorf"
Questa nevosa peuna
Di cigno immacohito,
Sul desco fortunate
lo lascio in dono a te.
Serba la ognor, geloao
E scriverai d' amoi-e ; '
If on cede il buo candors^:.
Che a quel della.Riafe.
366 TATHEE PBOTTT'S EEIilQTJES.
ai €tocifiiio.
Qivmto h gik il corso della vita mia.
Per tempestoao mar con fragil barca, '
Al oomun porto, ove a render se varoa
Conto e ragion d' ogni opra triste e pia.
Ma r alta afiettuosa fantasia,
Che r arte mi fece idolo e monarca,
ConOBOo or ben quanta sia d' error carca,
'E quel che mal buo grado ognun desia ;
Gli amorosi pensier gik Tani e lieti
Che fien or s' a due morte m' awieino ?
D' uno so certo, e 1' altra mi minaccia.
Ne pinger nh Bcolpir fla piil che queti
L' anima volta a quel amor divino
Che aperse in oroce a prender noi le braccia.
iiHicI)cl angtlo'S dTartJurtl to gnulpture.
I feel that I am growing old —
My lamp of clay ! thy flame, behold !
'Gins to burn low : and, I've unrolled
My life's eventftil volume !
The sea has borne my fragile bark
Close to the shore — now, rising dark.
O'er the subsiding wave I mark
This brief world's final column.
'Tis time, my soul, for pensive mood,
For holy calm and BoHtude ;
Then cease henceforward to delude
Thyself with fleeting vanity.
The pride of art, the sculptured thought, '
Vain idols that my hand hath wrought—
To place my trust in such were nought
But sheer insanity.
What can the pencil's power achieve ?
What can the chisel's triumph give?
A name perhaps on earth may five.
And travel to posterity.
But can proud Rome's Pantheon tell,
. If for the soul of Bafifaelle*
His glorious obsequies could quell
The Judomeni-Seat's severity ?
His body was laid out in state in the church of St. Maria Botonds
TUE SONGS OF ITALY. 367
Yet why should Christ's belieTer fear,
While gazing on yon image dear ? —
Image adored, maugr^ the sneer
Of miscreant blasphemer.
Are not those arms for me outspread ?
■ What mean those thorns upon thy head ? —
And shall I, wreathed with laurels, tread
Par from thy paths, Bedeemer ?
Such was tlie deeply religious tone of this eminent man's
mind, and such the genuine lueeffna of Michel Angelo. An
unfeigned devotedness to the doctrines of Christianity, and
a proud consciousness of the dignity which the avowal of
those feelings is calculated to confer in the view of every
right-minded person, are traits of character which we never
fail to meet in all the truly great men of that period. Dante,
Leonardo da Vinci, Tasso, Eaffaelle, Sannazar, Bembo, Bru-
nelleschi, and a host of imperishable names, bear witness
to the correctness of the remark. Nor is JPetrarca defi-
cient in this outward manifestation of inward piety. The
death of Laura forms a marked epoch in his biography ;
and the tendency of his thoughts, from that date to the
hour of his death, appears to have been decidedly religious :
And the soft quiet hamlet where he dwelt
Was one of that complexion which seemed made
Por one who his mortality had felt, 
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