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diff --git a/29605-h/29605-h.htm b/29605-h/29605-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af8a832 --- /dev/null +++ b/29605-h/29605-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9912 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine (Vol. LVII, No. CCCLI), by Various Authors. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 12%; + margin-right: 12%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .spacer {padding-left: 2.5em; padding-right: 2.5em;} + + a:link {color:#0000ff; text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:#6633cc; text-decoration:none} + + ins.correction { + text-decoration:none; /* replace default underline.. */ + border-bottom: thin solid gray; /* ..with delicate gray line */ + } + + div.right {text-align: right;} + + div.poem {margin-left:15%; margin-right:15%;} + + div.poem2 {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine -- Volume +57, No. 351, January 1845, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine -- Volume 57, No. 351, January 1845 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: August 4, 2009 [EBook #29605] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, JAN. 1845 *** + + + + +Produced by Brendan OConnor, Jonathan Ingram, Stephanie +Eason and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net. (This file was produced from images +generously made available by The Internet Library of Early +Journals.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<h1>BLACKWOOD'S</h1> +<h1>EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.</h1> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><span class="smcap">No</span>. CCCLI. <span class="spacer"> </span>JANUARY, + 1845.<span class="spacer"> </span> <span class="smcap">Vol</span>. LVII.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> +<p> </p> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="10" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> <td><span class="smcap">Homer, Dante, and Michael Angelo</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr> <td><span class="smcap">Settled at Last, Or, Red River Recollections</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Borodino. An Ode</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">A Ramble in Montenegro</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Æsthetics of Dress. a Case of Hats</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Three Guardsmen</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Marston; Or the Memoirs of a Statesman. Part XV</span>.,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Janus: From the Fasti of Ovid</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">To a Blind Girl</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Forced Sale</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Vanities in Verse. by B. Simmons</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Coleridge and Opium-eating</span>,</td> +<td align="right"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td></tr></table> + +<p> </p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>EDINBURGH:</h3> +<h3>WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS, 45, GEORGE STREET;</h3> +<h3>AND 22, PALL-MALL, LONDON.</h3> +<h4><i>To whom all Communications (post paid) must be addressed</i>.</h4> +<p> </p> +<h4>SOLD BY ALL THE BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINGDOM.</h4> +<h4>PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND HUGHES, EDINBURGH.</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="volume page" /></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2>BLACKWOOD'S</h2> +<h2>EDINBURGH MAGAZINE.</h2> +<h2><span class="smcap">No</span>. CCCLI. JANUARY, 1845. <span class="smcap">Vol</span>. LVII.</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>HOMER, DANTE, AND MICHAEL ANGELO.</h3> + + +<p>There is something inexpressibly striking, it may almost be said +awful, in the fame of <span class="smcap">Homer</span>. Three thousand years have elapsed since +the bard of Chios began to pour forth his strains; and their +reputation, so far from declining, is on the increase. Successive +nations are employed in celebrating his works; generation after +generation of men are fascinated by his imagination. Discrepancies of +race, of character, of institutions, of religion, of age, of the +world, are forgotten in the common worship of his genius. In this +universal tribute of gratitude, modern Europe vies with remote +antiquity, the light Frenchman with the volatile Greek, the +impassioned Italian with the enthusiastic German, the sturdy +Englishman with the unconquerable Roman, the aspiring Russian with the +proud American. Seven cities, in ancient times, competed for the +honour of having given him birth, but seventy nations have since been +moulded by his productions. He gave a mythology to the ancients; he +has given the fine arts to the modern world. Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, +Juno, are still household words in every tongue; Vulcan is yet the god +of fire, Neptune of the ocean, Venus of love. When Michael Angelo and +Canova strove to embody their conceptions of heroism or beauty, they +portrayed the heroes of the <i>Iliad</i>. Flaxman's genius was elevated to +the highest point in embodying its events. Epic poets, in subsequent +times, have done little more than imitate his machinery, copy his +characters, adopt his similes, and, in a few instances, improve upon +his descriptions. Painting and statuary, for two thousand years, have +been employed in striving to portray, by the pencil or the chisel, his +yet breathing conceptions. Language and thought itself have been +moulded by the influence of his poetry. Images of wrath are still +taken from Achilles, of pride from Agamemnon, of astuteness from +Ulysses, of patriotism from Hector, of tenderness from Andromache, of +age from Nestor. The galleys of Rome were, the line-of-battle ships of +France and England still are, called after his heroes. The Agamemnon +long bore the flag of Nelson; the Ajax perished by the flames within +sight of the tomb of the Telamonian hero, on the shores of the +Hellespont; the Achilles was blown up at the battle of Trafalgar. +Alexander the Great ran round the tomb of Achilles before undertaking +the conquest of Asia. It was the boast of Napoleon that his mother +reclined on tapestry representing the heroes of the <i>Iliad</i>, when he +was brought into the world. The greatest poets of ancient and modern +times have spent their lives in the study of his genius or the +imitation of his works. Withdraw from subsequent poetry the images, +mythology, and characters of the <i>Iliad</i>, and what would remain? +Petrarch spent his best years in restoring his verses. Tasso portrayed +the siege<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> of Jerusalem, and the shock of Europe and Asia, almost +exactly as Homer had done the contest of the same forces, on the same +shores, two thousand five hundred years before. Milton's old age, when +blind and poor, was solaced by hearing the verses recited of the poet, +to whose conceptions his own mighty spirit had been so much indebted; +and Pope deemed himself fortunate in devoting his life to the +translation of the <i>Iliad</i>.</p> + +<p>No writer in modern times has equalled the wide-spread fame of the +Grecian bard; but it may be doubted whether, in the realms of thought, +and in sway over the reflecting world, the influence of <span class="smcap">Dante</span> has not +been almost as considerable. Little more than five hundred years, +indeed, have elapsed—not a sixth of the thirty centuries which have +tested the strength of the Grecian patriarch—since the immortal +Florentine poured forth his divine conceptions; but yet there is +scarcely a writer of eminence since that time, in works even bordering +on imagination, in which traces of his genius are not to be found. The +<i>Inferno</i> has penetrated the world. If images of horror are sought +after, it is to his works that all subsequent ages have turned; if +those of love and divine felicity are desired, all turn to the +<i>Paradise</i> and the <i>Spirit of Beatrice</i>. When the historians of the +French Revolution wished to convey an idea of the utmost agonies they +were called on to portray, they contented themselves with saying it +equalled all that the imagination of Dante had conceived of the +terrible. Sir Joshua Reynolds has exerted his highest genius in +depicting the frightful scene described by him, when Ugolino perished +of hunger in the tower of Pisa. Alfieri, Metastasio, Corneille, Lope +de Vega, and all the great masters of the tragic muse, have sought in +his works the germs of their finest conceptions. The first of these +tragedians marked two-thirds of the <i>Inferno</i> and <i>Paradiso</i> as worthy +of being committed to memory. Modern novelists have found in his +prolific mind the storehouse from which they have drawn their noblest +imagery, the chord by which to strike the profoundest feelings of the +human heart. Eighty editions of his poems have been published in +Europe within the last half century; and the public admiration, so far +from being satiated, is augmenting. Every scholar knows how largely +Milton was indebted to his poems for many of his most powerful images. +Byron inherited, though often at second hand, his mantle, in many of +his most moving conceptions. Schiller has embodied them in a noble +historic mirror; and the dreams of Goethe reveal the secret influence +of the terrible imagination which portrayed the deep remorse and +hopeless agonies of Malebolge.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Michael Angelo</span> has exercised an influence on modern art little, if at +all, inferior to that produced on the realms of thought by Homer and +Dante. The father of Italian painting, the author of the frescoes on +the Sistine Chapel, he was, at the same time, the restorer of ancient +sculpture, and the intrepid architect who placed the Pantheon in the +air. Raphael confessed, that he owed to the contemplation of his works +his most elevated conceptions of their divine art. Sculpture, under +his original hand, started from the slumber of a thousand years, in +all the freshness of youthful vigour; architecture, in subsequent +times, has sought in vain to equal, and can never hope to surpass, his +immortal monument in the matchless dome of St Peters. He found +painting in its infancy—he left it arrived at absolute perfection. He +first demonstrated of what that noble art is capable. In the Last +Judgment he revealed its wonderful powers, exhibiting, as it were, at +one view, the whole circles of Dante's <i>Inferno</i>—portraying with +terrible fidelity the agonies of the wicked, when the last trumpet +shall tear the veil from their faces, and exhibit in undisguised truth +that most fearful of spectacles—<i>a naked human heart</i>. Casting aside, +perhaps with undue contempt, the adventitious aids derived from +finishing, colouring, and execution, he threw the whole force of his +genius into the design, the expression of the features, the drawing of +the figures. There never was such a delineator of bone and muscle as +Michael Angelo. His frescoes stand out in bold relief from the walls +of the Vatican, like the sculptures of Phidias from the pediment of +the Parthenon.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> He was the founder of the school of painting both at +Rome and Florence—that great school which, disdaining the +representation of still life, and all the subordinate appliances of +the art, devoted itself to the representation of the grand and the +beautiful; to the expression of passion in all its vehemence—of +emotion in all its intensity. His incomparable delineation of bones +and muscles was but a means to an end; it was the human heart, the +throes of human passion, that his master-hand laid bare. Raphael +congratulated himself, and thanked God that he had given him life in +the same age with that painter; and Sir Joshua Reynolds, in his last +address to the Academy, "reflected, not without vanity, that his +Discourses bore testimony to his admiration of that truly divine man, +and desired that the last words he pronounced in that academy, and +from that chair, might be the name of Michael Angelo."[<a name="f1.1" id="f1.1" href="#f1">1</a>]</p> + +<p>The fame of these illustrious men has long been placed beyond the +reach of cavil. Criticism cannot reach, envy cannot detract from, +emulation cannot equal them. Great present celebrity, indeed, is no +guarantee for future and enduring fame; in many cases, it is the +reverse, but there is a wide difference between the judgment of the +present and that of future ages. The favour of the great, the passions +of the multitude, the efforts of reviewers, the interest of +booksellers, a clique of authors, a coterie of ladies, accidental +events, degrading propensities, often enter largely into the +composition of present reputation. But opinion is freed from all these +disturbing influences by the lapse of time. The grave is the greatest +of all purifiers. Literary jealousy, interested partiality, vulgar +applause, exclusive favour, alike disappear before the hand of death. +We never can be sufficiently distrustful of present opinion, so +largely is it directed by passion or interest. But we may rely with +confidence on the judgment of successive generations on departed +eminence; for it is detached from the chief cause of present +aberration. So various are the prejudices, so contradictory the +partialities and predilections of men, in different countries and ages +of the world, that they never can concur through a course of centuries +in one opinion, if it is not founded in truth and justice. The <i>vox +populi</i> is often little more than the <i>vox diaboli</i>; but the voice of +ages is the voice of God.</p> + +<p>It is of more moment to consider in what the greatness of these +illustrious men really consists—to what it has probably been +owing—and in what particulars they bear an analogy to each other.</p> + +<p>They are all three distinguished by one peculiarity, which doubtless +entered largely into their transcendent merit—they wrote in the +infancy of civilization. Homer, as all the world knows, is the oldest +profane author in existence. Dante flourished about the year 1300: he +lived at a time when the English barons lived in rooms strewed with +rushes, and few of them could sign their names. The long life of +Michael Angelo, extending from 1474 to 1564, over ninety years, if not +passed in the infancy of civilization, was at least passed in the +childhood of the arts: before his time, painting was in its cradle. +Cimabue had merely unfolded the first dawn of beauty at Florence; and +the stiff figures of Pietro Perugino, which may be traced in the first +works of his pupil Raphael, still attest the backward state of the +arts at Rome. This peculiarity, applicable alike to all these three +great men, is very remarkable, and beyond all question had a powerful +influence, both in forming their peculiar character, and elevating +them to the astonishing greatness which they speedily attained.</p> + +<p>It gave them—what Johnson has justly termed the first requisite to +human greatness—self-confidence. They were the first—at least the +first known to themselves and their contemporaries—who adventured on +their several arts; and thus they proceeded <i>fearlessly</i> in their +great career. They had neither critics to fear, nor lords to flatter, +nor former excellence to imitate. They portrayed with the pencil, or +in verse, what they severally felt, undisturbed by fear, unswayed by +example, unsolicitous about fame,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> unconscious of excellence. They did +so for the first time. Thence the freshness and originality, the +vigour and truth, the simplicity and raciness by which they are +distinguished. Shakspeare owed much of his greatness to the same +cause; and thence his similarity, in many respects, to these great +masters of his own or the sister arts. When Pope asked Bentley what he +thought of his translation of the <i>Iliad</i>, the scholar replied, "You +have written a pretty book, Mr Pope; but you must not call it Homer." +Bentley was right. With all its pomp of language and melody of +versification, its richness of imagery and magnificence of diction, +Pope's Homer is widely different from the original. He could not avoid +it. The "awful simplicity of the Grecian bard, his artless grandeur +and unaffected majesty," will be sought for in vain in the +translation; but if they had appeared there, it would have been +unreadable in that age. Michael Angelo, in his bold conceptions, +energetic will, and rapid execution, bears a close resemblance to the +father of poetry. In both, the same faults, as we esteem them, are +conspicuous, arising from a too close imitation of nature, and a +carelessness in rejecting images or objects which are of an ordinary +or homely description. Dante was incomparably more learned than +either: he followed Virgil in his descent to the infernal regions; and +exhibits an intimate acquaintance with ancient history, as well as +that of the modern Italian states, in the account of the characters he +meets in that scene of torment. But in his own line he was entirely +original. Homer and Virgil had, in episodes of their poems, introduced +a picture of the infernal regions; but nothing on the plan of Dante's +<i>Inferno</i> had before been thought of in the world. With much of the +machinery of the ancients, it bears the stamp of the spiritual faith +of modern times. It lays bare the heart in a way unknown even to Homer +and Euripides. It reveals the inmost man in a way which bespeaks the +centuries of self-reflection in the cloister which had preceded it. It +is the basis of all the spiritual poetry of modern, as the <i>Iliad</i> is +of all the external imagery of ancient, times.</p> + +<p>In this respect there is a most grievous impediment to genius in +later, or, as we term them, more civilized times, from which, in +earlier ages, it is wholly exempt. Criticism, public opinion, the +dread of ridicule—then too often crush the strongest minds. The +weight of former examples, the influence of early habits, the halo of +long-established reputation, force original genius from the untrodden +path of invention into the beaten one of imitation. Early talent feels +itself overawed by the colossus which all the world adores; it falls +down and worships, instead of conceiving. The dread of ridicule +extinguishes originality in its birth. Immense is the incubus thus +laid upon the efforts of genius. It is the chief cause of the +degradation of taste, the artificial style, the want of original +conception, by which the literature of old nations is invariably +distinguished. The early poet or painter who portrays what he feels or +has seen, with no anxiety but to do so powerfully and truly, is +relieved of a load which crushes his subsequent compeers to the earth. +Mediocrity is ever envious of genius—ordinary capacity of original +thought. Such envy in early times is innocuous or does not exist, at +least to the extent which is felt as so baneful in subsequent periods. +But in a refined and enlightened age, its influence becomes +incalculable. Whoever strikes out a new region of thought or +composition, whoever opens a fresh vein of imagery or excellence, is +persecuted by the critics. He disturbs settled ideas, endangers +established reputations, brings forward rivals to dominant fame. That +is sufficient to render him the enemy of all the existing rulers in +the world of taste. Even Jeffrey seriously lamented, in one of his +first reviews of Scott's poems, that he should have identified himself +with the unpicturesque and expiring images of feudality, which no +effort could render poetical. Racine's tragedies were received with +such a storm of criticism as wellnigh cost the sensitive author his +life; and Rousseau was so rudely handled by contemporary writers on +his first appearance, that it confirmed him in his morbid hatred of +civilization. The vigour of these great men, indeed, overcame the +obstacles created by contemporary envy; but how seldom, especially in +a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> refined age, can genius effect such a prodigy? how often is it +crushed in the outset of its career, or turned aside into the humble +and unobtrusive path of imitation, to shun the danger with which that +of originality is beset!</p> + +<p>Milton's <i>Paradise Lost</i> contains many more lines of poetic beauty +than Homer's <i>Iliad</i>; and there is nothing in the latter poem of equal +length, which will bear any comparison with the exquisite picture of +the primeval innocence of our First Parents in his fourth book. +Nevertheless, the <i>Iliad</i> is a more interesting poem than the +<i>Paradise Lost</i>; and has produced and will produce a much more +extensive impression on mankind. The reason is, that it is much fuller +of event, is more varied, is more filled with images familiar to all +mankind, and is less lost in metaphysical or philosophical +abstractions. Homer, though the father of poets, was essentially +dramatic; he was an incomparable painter; and it is his dramatic +scenes, the moving panorama of his pictures, which fascinates the +world. He often speaks to the heart, and is admirable in the +delineation of character; but he is so, not by conveying the inward +feeling, but by painting with matchless fidelity its external +symptoms, or putting into the mouths of his characters the precise +words they would have used in similar circumstances in real life. Even +his immortal parting of Hector and Andromache is no exception to this +remark; he paints the scene at the Scæan gate exactly as it would have +occurred in nature, and moves us as if we had seen the Trojan hero +taking off his helmet to assuage the terrors of his infant son, and +heard the lamentations of his mother at parting with her husband. But +he does not lay bare the heart, with the terrible force of Dante, by a +line or a word. There is nothing in Homer which conveys so piercing an +idea of misery as the line in the <i>Inferno</i>, where the Florentine bard +assigns the reason of the lamentations of the spirits in Malebolge—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Questi non hanno speranza di morte."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>"These have not the <i>hope of death</i>." There speaks the spiritual poet; +he does not paint to the eye, he does not even convey character by the +words he makes then utter; he pierces by a single expression, at once +to the heart.</p> + +<p>Milton strove to raise earth to heaven: Homer brought down heaven to +earth. The latter attempt was a much easier one than the former; it +was more consonant to human frailty; and, therefore, it has met with +more success. The gods and goddesses in the <i>Iliad</i> are men and women, +endowed with human passions, affections, and desires, and +distinguished only from sublunary beings by superior power and the +gift of immortality. We are interested in them as we are in the genii +or magicians of an eastern romance. There is a sort of aërial epic +poem going on between earth and heaven. They take sides in the +terrestrial combat, and engage in the actual strife with the heroes +engaged in it. Mars and Venus were wounded by Diomede when combating +in the Trojan ranks; their blood, or rather the</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Ichor which blest immortals shed,"</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>flowed profusely; they fled howling to the palaces of heaven. +Enlightened by a spiritual faith, fraught with sublime ideas of the +divine nature and government, Milton was incomparably more just in his +descriptions of the Supreme Being, and more elevated in his picture of +the angels and arch-angels who carried on the strife in heaven; but he +frequently falls into metaphysical abstractions or theological +controversies, which detract from the interest of his poem.</p> + +<p>Despite Milton's own opinion, the concurring voice of all subsequent +ages and countries has assigned to the <i>Paradise Regained</i> a much +lower place than to the <i>Paradise Lost</i>. The reason is, that it is +less dramatic—it has less incident and action. Great part of the poem +is but an abstract theological debate between our Saviour and Satan. +The speeches he makes them utter are admirable, the reasoning is +close, the arguments cogent, the sentiments elevated in the speakers, +but dialectic too. In many of the speeches of the angel Raphael, and +in the council of heaven, in the <i>Paradise Lost</i> there is too much of +that species of discussion for a poem which is to interest the +generality of men. Dryden says, that Satan is Milton's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> real hero; and +every reader of the <i>Paradise Lost</i> must have felt, that in the Prince +of Darkness, and Adam and Eve, the interest of the poem consists. The +reason is, that the vices of the first, and the weakness of the two +last, bring them nearer than any other characters in the poem to the +standard of mortality; and we are so constituted, that we cannot take +any great interest but in persons who share in our failings.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the greatest cause of the sustained interest of the <i>Iliad</i> is +the continued and vehement <i>action</i> which is maintained. The attention +is seldom allowed to flag. Either in the council of the gods, the +assembly of the Grecian or Trojan chiefs, or the contest of the +leaders on the field of battle, an incessant interest is maintained. +Great events are always on the wing: the issue of the contest is +perpetually hanging, often almost even, in the balance. It is the art +with which this is done, and a state of anxious suspense, like the +crisis of a great battle kept up, that the great art of the poet +consists. It is done by making the whole dramatic—bringing the +characters forward constantly to speak for themselves, making the +events succeed each other with almost breathless rapidity, and +balancing success alternately from one side to the other, without +letting it ever incline decisively to either. Tasso has adopted the +same plan in his <i>Jerusalem Delivered</i>, and the contests of the +Christian knights and Saracen leaders with the lance and the sword, +closely resemble those of the Grecian and Trojan chiefs on the plain +of Troy. Ariosto has carried it still further. The exploits of his +Paladins—their adventures on earth, in air, and water; their loves, +their sufferings, their victories, their dangers—keep the reader in a +continual state of suspense. It is this sustained and varied interest +which makes so many readers prefer the <i>Orlando Furioso</i> to the +<i>Jerusalem Delivered</i>. But Ariosto has pushed it too far. In the +search of variety, he has lost sight of unity. His heroes are not +congregated round the banners of two rival potentates; there is no one +object or interest in his poem. No narrow plain, like that watered by +the Scamander, is the theatre of their exploits. Jupiter, from the +summit of Gargarus, could not have beheld the contending armies. The +most ardent imagination, indeed, is satiated with his adventures, but +the closest attention can hardly follow their thread. Story after +story is told, the exploits of knight after knight are recounted, till +the mind is fatigued, the memory perplexed, and all general interest +in the poem lost.</p> + +<p>Milton has admirably preserved the unity of his poem; the grand and +all-important object of the fall of man could hardly admit of +subordinate or rival interests. But the great defect in the <i>Paradise +Lost</i>, arising from that very unity, is want of variety. It is strung +throughout on too lofty a key; it does not come down sufficiently to +the wants and cravings of mortality. The mind is awe-struck by the +description of Satan careering through the immensity of space, of the +battle of the angels, of the fall of Lucifer, of the suffering, and +yet unsubdued spirit of his fellow rebels, of the adamantine gates, +and pitchy darkness, and burning lake of hell. But after the first +feeling of surprise and admiration is over, it is felt by all, that +these lofty contemplations are not interesting to mortals like +ourselves. They are too much above real life—too much out of the +sphere of ordinary event and interest.</p> + +<p>The fourth book is the real scene of interest in the <i>Paradise Lost</i>; +it is its ravishing scenes of primeval innocence and bliss which have +given it immortality. We are never tired of recurring to the bower of +Eve, to her devotion to Adam, to the exquisite scenes of Paradise, its +woods, its waters, its flowers, its enchantments. We are so, because +we feel that it paints the Elysium to which all aspire, which all have +for a brief period felt, but which none in this world can durably +enjoy.</p> + +<p>No one can doubt that Homer was endowed with the true poetic spirit, +and yet there is very little of what we now call poetry in his +writings. There is neither sentiment nor declamation—painting nor +reflection. He is neither descriptive nor didactic. With great powers +for portraying nature, as the exquisite choice of his epithets, and +the occasional force of his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> similes prove, he never makes any +laboured attempt to delineate her features. He had the eye of a great +painter; but his pictorial talents are employed, almost unconsciously, +in the fervour of narrating events, or the animation of giving +utterance to thoughts. He painted by an epithet or a line. Even the +celebrated description of the fires in the plain of Troy, likened to +the moon in a serene night, is contained in seven lines. His +rosy-fingered morn—cloud-compelling Jupiter—Neptune, stiller of the +waves—Aurora rising from her crocus bed—Night drawing her veil over +the heavens—the black keel careering through the lashing waves—the +shout of the far-sounding sea—and the like, from which subsequent +poets and dramatists have borrowed so largely, are all brief +allusions, or epithets, which evidently did not form the main object +of his strains. He was a close observer of nature—its lights, its +shades, its storms and calms, its animals, their migrations, their +cries and habits; but he never suspends his narrative to describe +them. We shall look in vain in the <i>Iliad</i>, and even the <i>Odyssey</i>, +for the lengthened pictures of scenery which are so frequent in Virgil +and Tasso, and appear in such rich profusion in Milton. He describes +storms only as objects of terror, not to paint them to the eye. Such +things are to be found in the book of Job and in the Psalms, but with +the same brevity and magical force of emphatic expression. There never +was a greater painter of nature than Homer; there never was a man who +aimed less at being so.</p> + +<p>The portraying of character and event was the great and evident object +of the Grecian bard; and there his powers may almost be pronounced +unrivalled. He never tells you, unless it is sometimes to be inferred +on an epithet, what the man's character that he introduces is. He +trusts to the character to delineate itself. He lets us get acquainted +with his heroes, as we do with persons around us, by hearing them +speak, and seeing them act. In preserving character, in this dramatic +way of representing it, he is unrivalled. He does not tell you that +Nestor had the garrulity of age, and loved to recur to the events of +his youth; but he never makes him open his mouth without descanting on +the adventures of his early years, and the degenerate race of mortals +who have succeeded the paladins of former days. He does not tell us +that Achilles was wrathful and impetuous; but every time he speaks, +the anger of the son of Peleus comes boiling over his lips. He does +not describe Agamemnon as overbearing and haughty; but the pride of +the king of men is continually appearing in his words and actions, and +it is the evident moral of the <i>Iliad</i> to represent its pernicious +effects on the affairs of the Helenic confederacy. Ulysses never +utters a word in which the cautious and prudent counsellor, sagacious +in design but prompt in execution, wary in the council but decided in +the field, far-seeing but yet persevering, is not apparent. Diomede +never falters; alike in the field and the council he is indomitable. +When Hector was careering in his chariot round their fortifications, +and the king of men counselled retreat, he declared he would remain, +were it only with Sthenelus and his friends. So completely marked, so +well defined are his characters, though they were all rapacious chiefs +at first sight, little differing from each other, that it has been +observed with truth, that one well acquainted with the <i>Iliad</i> could +tell, upon hearing one of the speeches read out without a name, who +was the chief who uttered it.</p> + +<p>The two authors, since his time, who have most nearly approached him +in this respect, are Shakespeare and Scott. Both seem to have received +the pencil which paints the human heart from nature herself. Both had +a keen and searching eye for character in all grades and walks of +life; and what is a general accompaniment of such a disposition, a +strong sense of the ridiculous. Both seized the salient points in +mental disposition, and perceived at a glance, as it were, the ruling +propensity. Both impressed this character so strongly on their minds, +that they threw themselves, as it were, into the very souls of the +persons whom they delineated, and made them speak and act like nature +herself. It is this extraordinary faculty of identifying themselves +with their characters, and bringing out of their mouth the very words +which, in real life, would have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> come, which constitutes the chief and +permanent attraction of these wonderful masters of the human heart. +Cervantes had it in an equal degree; and thence it is that Homer, +Shakspeare, Cervantes, and Scott, have made so great, and, to all +appearance, durable impression on mankind. The human heart is, at +bottom, every where the same. There is infinite diversity in the dress +he wears, but the naked human figure of one country scarcely differs +from another. The writers who have succeeded in reaching this deep +substratum, this far-hidden but common source of human action, are +understood and admired over all the world. It is the same on the banks +of the Simoïs as on those of the Avon—on the Sierra Morena as the +Scottish hills. They are understood alike in Europe as Asia—in +antiquity as modern times; one unanimous burst of admiration salutes +them from the North Cape to Cape Horn—from the age of Pisistratus to +that of Napoleon.</p> + +<p>Strange as it may appear to superficial observers, Cervantes bears a +close analogy, in many particulars, to Homer. Circumstances, and an +inherent turn for humour, made him throw his genius into an exquisite +ridicule of the manners of chivalry; but the author of <i>Don Quixote</i> +had in him the spirit of a great epic poet. His lesser pieces prove +it; unequivocal traces of it are to be found in the adventures of the +Knight of La Mancha himself. The elevation of mind which, amidst all +his aberrations, appears in that erratic character; the incomparable +traits of nature with which the work abounds; the faculty of +describing events in the most striking way; of painting scenes in a +few words; of delineating characters with graphic fidelity, and +keeping them up with perfect consistency, which are so conspicuous in +<i>Don Quixote</i>, are so many of the most essential qualities of an epic +poet. Nor was the ardour of imagination, the romantic disposition, the +brilliancy of fancy, the lofty aspirations, the tender heart, which +form the more elevated and not less essential part of such a +character, wanting in the Spanish novelist.</p> + +<p>Sir Walter Scott more nearly resembles Homer than any poet who has +sung since the siege of Troy. Not that he has produced any poem which +will for a moment bear a comparison with the <i>Iliad</i>—fine as the +<i>Lady of the Lake</i> and <i>Marmion</i> are, it would be the height of +national partiality to make any such comparison. But, nevertheless, +Sir Walter's mind is of the same dimensions as that of Homer. We see +in him the same combination of natural sagacity with acquired +information; of pictorial eye with dramatic effect; of observation of +character with reflection and feeling; of graphic power with poetic +fervour; of ardour of imagination with rectitude of principle; of +warlike enthusiasm with pacific tenderness, which have rendered the +Grecian bard immortal. It is in his novels, however, more than his +poetry, that this resemblance appears; the author of <i>Waverley</i> more +nearly approaches the blind bard than the author of the <i>Lay</i>. His +romances in verse contain some passages which are sublime, many which +are beautiful, some pathetic. They are all interesting, and written in +the same easy, careless style, interspersed with the most homely and +grotesque expressions, which is so well known to all the readers of +the <i>Iliad</i>. The battle in <i>Marmion</i> is beyond all question, as +Jeffrey long ago remarked, the most <i>Homeric</i> strife which has been +sung since the days of Homer. But these passages are few and far +between; his poems are filled with numerous and long interludes, +written with little art, and apparently no other object but to fill up +the pages or eke out the story. It is in prose that the robust +strength, the powerful arm, the profound knowledge of the heart, +appear; and it is there, accordingly, that he approaches at times so +closely to Homer. If we could conceive a poem, in which the storming +of Front-de-Bœuf's castle in <i>Ivanhoe</i>—the death of Fergus in +<i>Waverley</i>—the storm on the coast, and death scene in the fisher's +hut, in the <i>Antiquary</i>—the devoted love in the <i>Bride of +Lammermoor</i>—the fervour of the Covenanters in <i>Old Mortality</i>, and +the combats of Richard and Saladin in the <i>Talisman</i>, were united +together, and intermingled with the incomparable characters, +descriptions, and incidents with which these novels abound, they would +form an epic poem.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>Doubts have sometimes been expressed, as to whether the <i>Iliad</i> and +<i>Odyssey</i> are all the production of one man. Never, perhaps, was doubt +not merely so ill founded, but so decisively disproved by internal +evidence. If ever in human composition the traces of one mind are +conspicuous, they are in Homer. His beauties equally with his defects, +his variety and uniformity, attest this. Never was an author who had +so fertile an imagination for varying of incidents; never was one who +expressed them in language in which the same words so constantly +recur. This is the invariable characteristic of a great and powerful, +but at the same time self-confident and careless mind. It is to be +seen in the most remarkable manner in Bacon and Machiavel, and not a +little of it may be traced both in the prose and poetical works of +Scott. The reason is, that the strength of the mind is thrown into the +thought as the main object; the language, as a subordinate matter, is +little considered. Expressions capable of energetically expressing the +prevailing ideas of the imagination are early formed; but, when this +is done, the powerful, careless mind, readily adopts them on all +future occasions where they are at all applicable. There is scarcely a +great and original thinker in whose writings the same expressions do +not very frequently recur, often in exactly the same words. How much +this is the case with Homer—with how much discrimination and genius +his epithets and expressions were first chosen, and how frequently he +repeats them, almost in every page, need be told to none who are +acquainted with his writings. That is the most decisive mark at once +of genius and identity. Original thinkers fall into repetition of +expression, because they are always speaking from one model—their own +thoughts. Subordinate writers avoid this fault, because they are +speaking from the thoughts of others, and share their variety. It +requires as great an effort for the first to introduce difference of +expression, as for the last to reach diversity of thought.</p> + +<p>The reader of Dante must not look for the heart-stirring and animated +narrative—the constant interest—the breathless suspense, which +hurries us along the rapid current of the <i>Iliad</i>. There are no +councils of the gods; no messengers winging their way through the +clouds; no combats of chiefs; no cities to storm; no fields to win. It +is the infernal regions which the poet, under the guidance of his +great leader, Virgil, visits; it is the scene of righteous retribution +through which he is led; it is the apportionment of punishment and +reward to crime or virtue, in this upper world, that he is doomed to +witness. We enter the city of lamentation—we look down the depths of +the bottomless pit—we stand at the edge of the burning lake. His +survey is not a mere transient visit like that of Ulysses in Homer, or +of Æneas in Virgil. He is taken slowly and deliberately through every +successive circle of Malebolge; descending down which, like the +visitor of the tiers of vaults, one beneath another, in a feudal +castle, he finds every species of malefactors, from the chiefs and +kings whose heroic lives were stained only by a few deeds of cruelty, +to the depraved malefactors whose base course was unrelieved by one +ray of virtue. In the very conception of such a poem, is to be found +decisive evidence of the mighty change which the human mind had +undergone since the expiring lays of poetry were last heard in the +ancient world; of the vast revolution of thought and inward conviction +which, during a thousand years, in the solitude of the monastery, and +under the sway of a spiritual faith, had taken place in the human +heart. A gay and poetic mythology no longer amazed the world by its +fictions, or charmed it by its imagery. Religion no longer basked in +the sunshine of imagination. The awful words of judgment to come had +been spoken; and, like Felix, mankind had trembled. Ridiculous legends +had ceased to be associated with the shades below—their place had +been taken by images of horror. Conscience had resumed its place in +the direction of thought. Superstition had lent its awful power to the +sanctions of religion. Terror of future punishment had subdued the +fiercest passions—internal agony tamed the proudest spirits. It was +the picture of a future world—of a world of retribution—conceived +under such impressions, that Dante proposed to give; it is that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> which +he has given with such terrible fidelity.</p> + +<p>Melancholy was the prevailing characteristic of the great Italian's +mind. It was so profound that it penetrated all his thoughts; so +intense that it pervaded all his conceptions. Occasionally bright and +beautiful ideas flitted across his imagination; visions of bliss, +experienced for a moment, and then lost for ever, as if to render more +profound the darkness by which they are surrounded. They are given +with exquisite beauty; but they shine amidst the gloom like sunbeams +struggling through the clouds. He inherited from the dark ages the +austerity of the cloister; but he inherited with it the deep feelings +and sublime conceptions which its seclusion had generated. His mind +was a world within itself. He drew all his conceptions from that +inexhaustible source; but he drew them forth so clear and lucid, that +they emerged, embodied as it were, in living images. His characters +are emblematic of the various passions and views for which different +degrees of punishment were reserved in the world to come; but his +conception of them was so distinct, his description so vivid, that +they stand forth to our gaze in all the agony of their sufferings, +like real flesh and blood. We see them—we feel them—we hear their +cries—our very flesh creeps at the perception of their sufferings. We +stand on the edge of the lake of boiling pitch—we feel the weight of +the leaden mantles—we see the snow-like flakes of burning sand—we +hear the cries of those who had lost the last earthly consolations, +the hope of death:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Quivi sospiri, pianti ed alti guai</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Risonavan per l' aer senza stelle,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Perch' io al cominciar ne lacrimai.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Diverse lingue, orribili favelle,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Parole di dolore, accenti d' ira,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Voci alte e fioche, e suon di man con elle</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Facevano un tumulto, il qual s' aggira</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sempre 'n quell' aria senza tempo tinta,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come la rena quando 'l turbo spira.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">*<span class="spacer"> </span>*<span class="spacer"> </span>*</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ed io: maestro, che è tanto greve</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A lor che lamentar li fa si forte?</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rispose: dicerolti molto breve.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Questi non hanno speranza di morte."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><i>Inferno</i>, c. iii.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Here sighs, with lamentations and loud moans,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Resounded through the air pierced by no star,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That e'en I wept at entering. Various tongues,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Horrible languages, outcries of woe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With hands together smote that swell'd the sounds,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Made up a tumult, that for ever whirls</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Round through that air with solid darkness stain'd,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like to the sand that in the whirlwind flies.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">*<span class="spacer"> </span>*<span class="spacer"> </span>*</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I then: Master! What doth aggrieve them thus,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That they lament so loud? He straight replied:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That will I tell thee briefly. These of death</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No hope may entertain."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><span class="smcap">Cary's</span> <i>Dante, Inferno</i>, c. iii.</span><br /> +</p> +<p> </p> +<p>Here is Dante portrayed to the life in the very outset. What a +collection of awful images in a few lines! Loud lamentations, hideous +cries, mingled with the sound of clasped hands, beneath a starless +sky; and the terrible answer, as the cause of this suffering, "These +have not the hope of death."</p> + +<p>The very first lines of the <i>Inferno</i>, when the gates of Hell were +approached, and the inscription over them appeared, paints the dismal +character of the poem, and yet mingled with the sense of divine love +and justice with which the author was penetrated.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Per me si va nella città dolente;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Per me si va nell' eterno dolore;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Per me si va tra la perduta gente:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Giustizia mosse 'l mio alto Fattore;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fecemi la divina Potestate,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">La somma Sapienza e 'l primo Amore.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Dinanzi a me non fur cose create,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Se non eterne; ed io eterno duro:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Lasciate ogni speranza voi che 'ntrate."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><i>Inferno</i>, c. iii.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Through me you pass into the city of woe:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through me you pass into eternal pain:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through me among the people lost for aye.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Justice the founder of my fabric moved:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To rear me was the task of power divine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before me things create were none, save things</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Eternal, and eternal I endure.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All hope abandon, ye who enter here."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><span class="smcap">Cary's</span> <i>Dante, Inferno</i>, c. iii.</span><br /> +</p> +<p> </p> +<p>Dante had much more profound feelings than Homer, and therefore he has +painted deep mysteries of the human heart with greater force and +fidelity. The more advanced age of the world, the influence of +spiritual faith, the awful anticipation of judgment to come, the +inmost feelings which, during long centuries of seclusion, had been +drawn forth in the cloister, the protracted sufferings of the dark +ages, had laid bare the human heart. Its sufferings, its terrors, its +hopes, its joys, had become as household words. The Italian poet +shared, as all do, in the ideas and images of his age, and to these he +added many which were entirely his own. He painted the inward man, and +painted him from his own feelings, not the observation of others. That +is the grand distinction between him and Homer; and that it is which +has given him, in the delineation of mind, his great superiority. The +Grecian bard was an incomparable observer; he had an inexhaustible +imagination for fiction, as well as a graphic eye for the delineation +of real life; but he had not a deep or feeling heart. He did not know +it, like Dante and Shakspeare, from his own suffering. He painted the +external symptoms of passion and emotion with the hand of a master; +but he did not reach the inward spring of feeling. He lets us into his +characters by their speeches, their gestures, their actions, and keeps +up their consistency with admirable fidelity; but he does not, by a +word, an expression, or an epithet, admit us into the inmost folds of +the heart. None can do so but such as themselves feel warmly and +profoundly, and paint passion, emotion, or suffering from their own +experience, not the observation of others. Dante has acquired his +colossal fame from the matchless force with which he has portrayed the +wildest passions, the deepest feelings, the most intense sufferings of +the heart. He is the refuge of all those who labour and are heavy +laden—of all who feel profoundly or have suffered deeply. His verses +are in the mouth of all who are torn by passion, gnawed by remorse, or +tormented by apprehension; and how many are they in this scene of woe!</p> + +<p>A distinguished modern critic[<a name="f2.1" id="f2.1" href="#f2">2</a>] has said, that he who would now +become a great poet must first become a little child. There is no +doubt he is right. The seen and unseen fetters of civilization; the +multitude of old ideas afloat in the world; the innumerable worn-out +channels into which new ones are ever apt to flow; the general clamour +with which critics, nursed amidst such fetters, receive any attempts +at breaking them; the preva<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>lence, in a wealthy and highly civilized +age, of worldly or selfish ideas; the common approximation of +characters by perpetual intercourse, as of coins, by continual rubbing +in passing from man to man, have taken away all freshness and +originality from ideas. The learned, the polished, the highly +educated, can hardly escape the fetters which former greatness throws +over the soul. Milton could not avoid them: half the images in his +poems are taken from Homer, Virgil, and Dante; and who dare hope for +emancipation when Milton was enthralled? The mechanical arts increase +in perfection as society advances. Science ever takes its renewed +flights from the platform which former efforts have erected. Industry, +guided by experience, in successive ages, brings to the highest point +all the contrivances and inventions which minister to the comfort or +elegances of life. But it is otherwise with genius. It sinks in the +progress of society, as much as science and the arts rise. The country +of Homer and Æschylus sank for a thousand years into the torpor of the +Byzantine empire. Originality perishes amidst acquisition. Freshness +of conception is its life: like the flame, it burns fierce and clear +in the first gales of a pure atmosphere; but languishes and dies in +that polluted by many breaths.</p> + +<p>It was the resurrection of the human mind, after the seclusion and +solitary reflection of the middle ages, which gave this vein of +original ideas to Dante, as their first wakening had given to Homer. +Thought was not extinct; the human mind was not dormant during the +dark ages; far from it—it never, in some respects, was more active. +It was the first collision of their deep and lonely meditations with +the works of the great ancient poets, which occasioned the prodigy. +Universally it will be found to be the same. After the first flights +of genius have been taken, it is by the collision of subsequent +thought with it that the divine spark is again elicited. The meeting +of two great minds is necessary to beget fresh ideas, as that of two +clouds is to bring forth lightning, or the collision of flint and +steel to produce fire. Johnson said he could not get new ideas till he +had read. He was right; though it is not one in a thousand who strikes +out original thoughts from studying the works of others. The great +sage did not read to imbibe the opinions of others, but to engender +new ones for himself; he did not study to imitate, but to create. It +was the same with Dante; it is the same with every really great man. +His was the first powerful and original mind which, fraught with the +profound and gloomy ideas nourished in seclusion during the middle +ages, came into contact with the brilliant imagery, touching pathos, +and harmonious language of the ancients. Hence his astonishing +greatness. He almost worshipped Virgil, he speaks of him as a species +of god; he mentions Homer as the first of poets. But he did not copy +either the one or the other; he scarcely imitated them. He strove to +rival their brevity and beauty of expression; but he did so in giving +vent to new ideas, in painting new images, in awakening new emotions. +The <i>Inferno</i> is as original as the <i>Iliad</i>; incomparably more so than +the <i>Æneid</i>. The offspring of originality with originality is a new +and noble creation; of originality with mediocrity, a spurious and +degraded imitation.</p> + +<p>Dante paints the spirits of all the generations of men, each in their +circle undergoing their allotted punishment; expiating by suffering +the sins of an upper world. Virgil gave a glimpse, as it were, into +that scene of retribution; Minos and Rhadamanthus passing judgment on +the successive spirits brought before them; the flames of Tartarus, +the rock of Sisyphus, the wheel of Ixion, the vulture gnawing +Prometheus. But with Homer and Virgil, the descent into the infernal +regions was a brief episode; with Dante it was the whole poem. Immense +was the effort of imagination requisite to give variety to such a +subject, to prevent the mind from experiencing weariness amidst the +eternal recurrence of crime and punishment. But the genius of Dante +was equal to the task. His fancy was prodigious; his invention +boundless; his imagination inexhaustible. Fenced in, as he was,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +within narrow and gloomy limits by the nature of his subject, his +creative spirit equals that of Homer himself. He has given birth to as +many new ideas in the <i>Inferno</i> and the <i>Paradiso</i>, as the Grecian +bard in the <i>Iliad</i> and <i>Odyssey</i>.</p> + +<p>Though he had reflected so much and so deeply on the human heart, and +was so perfect a master of all the anatomy of mental suffering, +Dante's mind was essentially descriptive. He was a great painter as +well as a profound thinker; he clothed deep feeling in the garb of the +senses; he conceived a vast brood of new ideas, he arrayed them in a +surprising manner in flesh and blood. He is ever clear and definite, +at least in the <i>Inferno</i>. He exhibits in every canto of that +wonderful poem a fresh image, but it is a clear one, of horror or +anguish, which leaves nothing to the imagination to add or conceive. +His ideal characters are real persons; they are present to our senses; +we feel their flesh, see the quivering of their limbs, hear their +lamentations, and feel a thrill of joy at their felicity. In the +<i>Paradiso</i> he is more vague and general, and thence its acknowledged +inferiority to the <i>Inferno</i>. But the images of horror are much more +powerful than those of happiness; and it is they which have entranced +the world. "It is easier," says Madame de Staël, "to convey ideas of +suffering than those of happiness; for the former are too well known +to every heart, the latter only to a few."</p> + +<p>The melancholy tone which pervades Dante's writings was doubtless, in +a great measure, owing to the misfortunes of his life; and to them we +are also indebted for many of the most caustic and powerful of his +verses—perhaps for the design of the <i>Inferno</i> itself. He took +vengeance on the generation which had persecuted and exiled him, by +exhibiting its leaders suffering in the torments of hell. In his long +seclusion, chiefly in the monastery of Santa Croce di Fonte Avellana, +a wild and solitary retreat in the territory of Gubbio, and in a tower +belonging to the Conte Falcucci, in the same district, his immortal +work was written. The mortifications he underwent during this long and +dismal exile are thus described by himself:—"Wandering over almost +every part in which our language extends, I have gone about like a +mendicant; showing against my will the wound with which fortune has +smitten me, and which is often falsely imputed to the demerit of him +by whom it is endured. I have been, indeed, a vessel without sail or +steerage, carried about to divers ports, and roads, and shores, by the +dry wind that springs out of sad poverty."</p> + +<p>In the third circle of hell, Dante sees those who are punished by the +plague of burning sand falling perpetually on them. Their torments are +thus described—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Supin giaceva in terra alcuna gente;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Alcuna si sedea tutta raccolta;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ed altra andava continuamente.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Quella che giva intorno era più molta;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E quella men che giaceva al tormento;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma più al duolo avea la lingua sciolta.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sovra tutto 'l sabbion d'un cader lento</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Piovean di fuoco dilatate falde,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come di neve in alpe senza vento.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Quali Alessandro in quelle parti calde</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">D' India vide sovra lo suo stuolo</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fiamme cadere infino a terra salde."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><i>Inferno</i>, c. xiv.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Of naked spirits many a flock I saw,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All weeping piteously, to different laws</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Subjected: for on earth some lay supine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Some crouching close were seated, others paced</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Incessantly around; the latter tribe</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">More numerous, those fewer who beneath</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The torment lay, but louder in their grief.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O'er all the sand fell slowly wafting down</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Dilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On Alpine summit, when the wind is hush'd.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As, in the torrid Indian clime, the son</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Ammon saw, upon his warrior band</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Descending, solid flames, that to the ground</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Came down."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><span class="smcap">Cary's</span> <i>Dante</i>, c. xiv.</span><br /> +</p> +<p> </p> +<p>The first appearance of Malebolge is described in these striking +lines—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Luogo è in Inferno, detto Malebolge,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tutto di pietra e di color ferrigno,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Come la cerchia che d'intorno il volge.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nel dritto mezzo del campo maligno</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vaneggia un pozzo assai largo e profondo,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Di cui suo luogo conterà l' ordigno.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Quel cinghio che rimane adunque è tondo</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tra 'l pozzo e 'l piè dell' alta ripa dura,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E ha distinto in dieci valli al fondo."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><i>Inferno</i>, c. xviii.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"There is a place within the depths of hell</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Call'd Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain'd</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With hue ferruginous, e'en as the steep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That round it circling winds. Right in the midst</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of that abominable region yawns</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A spacious gulf profound, whereof the frame</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Due time shall tell. The circle, that remains,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Throughout its round, between the gulf and base</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of the high craggy banks, successive forms</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ten bastions, in its hollow bottom raised."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><span class="smcap">Cary's</span> <i>Dante</i>, c. xviii.</span><br /> +</p> +<p> </p> +<p>This is the outward appearance of Malebolge, the worst place of +punishment in hell. It had many frightful abysses; what follows is the +picture of the first:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Ristemmo per veder l'altra fessura</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Di Malebolge e gli altri pianti vani:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E vidila mirabilmente oscura.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Quale nell' arzana de' Veneziani</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bolle l' inverno la tenace pece,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A rimpalmar li legni lor non sani—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">*<span class="spacer"> </span>*<span class="spacer"> </span>*</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Tal non per fuoco ma per divina arte,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Bollia laggiuso una pegola spessa,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Che 'nviscava la ripa d'ogni parte.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I' vedea lei, ma non vedeva in essa</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma che le bolle che 'l bollor levava,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">E gonfiar tutta e riseder compressa.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">*<span class="spacer"> </span>*<span class="spacer"> </span>*</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E vidi dietro a noi un diavol nero</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Correndo su per lo scoglio venire.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Ahi quant' egli era nell' aspetto fiero!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">E quanto mi parea nell' atto acerbo,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Con l' ali aperte e sovre i piè leggiero!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">L' omero suo ch' era acuto e superbo</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Carcava un peccator con ambo l'anche,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ed ei tenea de' piè ghermito il nerbo.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">*<span class="spacer"> </span>*<span class="spacer"> </span>*</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Laggiù il buttò e per lo scoglio duro</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Si volse, e mai non fu mastino sciolto</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Con tanta fretta a seguitar lo furo.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Quei s' attuffò e tornò su convolto;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ma i demon che del ponte avean coverchio</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gridar: qui non ha luogo il Santo Volto.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Qui si nuota altramenti che nel Serchio:</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Però se tu non vuoi de' nostri graffi,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Non far sovra la pegola soverchio.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Poi l' addentar con più di cento raffi,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Disser: coverto convien che qui balli,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Si che se puoi nascosamente accaffi."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><i>Inferno</i>, c. xxi.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"———To the summit reaching, stood</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To view another gap, within the round</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of Malebolge, other bootless pangs.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Marvellous darkness shadow'd o'er the place.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In the Venetians' arsenal as boils</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through wintry months tenacious pitch, to smear</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their unsound vessels in the wintry clime.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">*<span class="spacer"> </span>*<span class="spacer"> </span>*</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So, not by force of fire but art divine,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Boil'd here a glutinous thick mass, that round</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Limed all the shore beneath. I that beheld,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But therein not distinguish'd, save the bubbles</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Raised by the boiling, and one mighty swell</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Heave, and by turns subsiding fall.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">*<span class="spacer"> </span>*<span class="spacer"> </span>*</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Behind me I beheld a devil black,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That running up, advanced along the rock.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah! what fierce cruelty his look bespake.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In act how bitter did he seem, with wings</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Buoyant outstretch'd, and feet of nimblest tread.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His shoulder, proudly eminent and sharp,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was with a sinner charged; by either haunch</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He held him, the foot's sinew griping fast.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">*<span class="spacer"> </span>*<span class="spacer"> </span>*</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Him dashing down, o'er the rough rock he turn'd;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor ever after thief a mastiff loosed</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sped with like eager haste. That other sank,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And forthwith writhing to the surface rose.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But those dark demons, shrouded by the bridge,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Cried—Here the hallow'd visage saves not: here</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is other swimming than in Serchio's wave,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Wherefore, if thou desire we rend thee not,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Take heed thou mount not o'er the pitch. This said,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">They grappled him with more than hundred hooks,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And shouted—Cover'd thou must sport thee here;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So, if thou canst, in secret mayst thou filch."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 14em;"><span class="smcap">Cary's</span> <i>Dante</i>, c. xxi.</span><br /> +</p> + +<p> </p> +<p>Fraught as his imagination was with gloomy ideas, with images of +horror, it is the fidelity of his descriptions, the minute reality of +his pictures, which gives them their terrible power. He knew well what +it is that penetrates the soul. His images of horror in the infernal +regions were all founded on those familiar to every one in the upper +world; it was from the caldron of boiling pitch in the arsenal of +Venice that he took his idea of one of the pits of Malebolge. But what +a picture does he there exhibit! The writhing sinner plunged headlong +into the boiling waves, rising to the surface, and a hundred demons, +mocking his sufferings, and with outstretched hooks tearing his flesh +till he dived again beneath the liquid fire! It is the reality of the +scene, the images familiar yet magnified in horror, which constitutes +its power: we stand by; our flesh creeps as it would at witnessing an +<i>auto-da-fè</i> of Castile, or on beholding a victim perishing under the +knout in Russia.</p> + +<p>Michael Angelo was, in one sense, the painter of the Old Testament, as +his bold and aspiring genius arrived rather at delineating the events +of warfare, passion, or suffering, chronicled in the records of the +Jews, than the scenes of love, affection, and benevolence, depicted in +the gospels.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> But his mind was not formed merely on the events +recorded in antiquity: it is no world doubtful of the immortality of +the soul which he depicts. He is rather the personification in +painting of the soul of Dante. His imagination was evidently fraught +with the conceptions of the <i>Inferno</i>. The expression of mind beams +forth in all his works. Vehement passion, stern resolve, undaunted +valour, sainted devotion, infant innocence, alternately occupied his +pencil. It is hard to say in which he was greatest. In all his works +we see marks of the genius of antiquity meeting the might of modern +times: the imagery of mythology blended with the aspirations of +Christianity. We see it in the dome of St Peter's, we see it in the +statue of Moses. Grecian sculpture was the realization in form of the +conceptions of Homer; Italian painting the representation on canvass +of the revelations of the gospel, which Dante clothed in the garb of +poetry. Future ages should ever strive to equal, but can never hope to +excel them.</p> + +<p>Never did artist work with more persevering vigour than Michael +Angelo. He himself said that he laboured harder for fame, than ever +poor artist did for bread. Born of a noble family, the heir to +considerable possessions, he took to the arts from his earliest years +from enthusiastic passion and conscious power. During a long life of +ninety years, he prosecuted them with the ardent zeal of youth. He was +consumed by the thirst for fame, the desire of great achievements, the +invariable mark of heroic minds; and which, as it is altogether beyond +the reach of the great bulk of mankind, so is the feeling of all +others which to them is most incomprehensible. Nor was that noble +enthusiasm without its reward. It was his extraordinary good fortune +to be called to form, at the same time, the Last Judgment on the wall +of the Sistine Chapel, the glorious dome of St Peter's, and the group +of Notre Dame de Pitié, which now adorns the chapel of the Crucifix, +under the roof of that august edifice. The "Holy Family" in the +Palazzo Pitti at Florence, and the "Three Fates" in the same +collection, give an idea of his powers in oil-painting: thus he +carried to the highest perfection, at the same time, the rival arts of +architecture, sculpture, fresco and oil painting.[<a name="f3.1" id="f3.1" href="#f3">3</a>] He may truly be +called the founder of Italian painting, as Homer was of the ancient +epic, and Dante of the great style in modern poetry. None but a +colossal mind could have done such things. Raphael took lessons from +him in painting, and professed through life the most unbounded respect +for his great preceptor. None have attempted to approach him in +architecture; the cupola of St Peter's stands alone in the world.</p> + +<p>But notwithstanding all this, Michael Angelo had some defects. He +created the great style in painting, a style which has made modern +Italy as immortal as the arms of the legions did the ancient. But the +very grandeur of his conceptions, the vigour of his drawing, his +incomparable command of bone and muscle, his lofty expression and +impassioned mind, made him neglect, and perhaps despise, the lesser +details of his art. Ardent in the pursuit of expression, he often +overlooked execution. When he painted the Last Judgment or the Fall of +the Titans in fresco, on the ceiling and walls of the Sistine Chapel, +he was incomparable; but that gigantic style was unsuitable for lesser +pictures or rooms of ordinary proportions. By the study of his +masterpieces, subsequent painters have often been led astray; they +have aimed at force of expression to the neglect of delicacy in +execution. This defect is, in an especial manner, conspicuous in Sir +Joshua Reynolds, who worshipped Michael Angelo with the most devoted +fervour; and through him it has descended to Lawrence, and nearly the +whole modern school of England. When we see Sir Joshua's noble glass +window in Magdalen College, Ox<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>ford, we behold the work of a worthy +pupil of Michael Angelo; we see the great style of painting in its +proper place, and applied to its appropriate object. But when we +compare his portraits, or imaginary pieces in oil, with those of +Titian, Velasquez, or Vandyke, the inferiority is manifest. It is not +in the design but the finishing; not in the conception but the +execution. The colours are frequently raw and harsh; the details or +distant parts of the piece ill-finished or neglected. The bold neglect +of Michael Angelo is very apparent. Raphael, with less original genius +than his immortal master, had more taste and much greater delicacy of +pencil; his conceptions, less extensive and varied, are more perfect; +his finishing is always exquisite. Unity of emotion was his great +object in design; equal delicacy of finishing in execution. Thence he +has attained by universal consent the highest place in painting.</p> + +<p>"Nothing," says Sir Joshua Reynolds, "is denied to well-directed +labour; nothing is to be attained without it." "Excellence in any +department," says Johnson, "can now be attained only by the labour of +a lifetime; it is not to be purchased at a lesser price." These words +should ever be present to the minds of all who aspire to rival the +great of former days; who feel in their bosoms a spark of the spirit +which led Homer, Dante, and Michael Angelo to immortality. In a +luxurious age, comfort or station is deemed the chief good of life; in +a commercial community, money becomes the universal object of +ambition. Thence our acknowledged deficiency in the fine arts; thence +our growing weakness in the higher branches of literature. Talent +looks for its reward too soon. Genius seeks an immediate recompense; +long protracted exertions are never attempted; great things are not +done, because great efforts are not made.</p> + +<p>None will work now without the prospect of an immediate return. Very +possibly it is so; but then let us not hope or wish for immortality. +"Present time and future," says Sir Joshua Reynolds, "are rivals; he +who solicits the one must expect to be discountenanced by the other." +It is not that we want genius; what we want is the great and heroic +spirit which will devote itself; by strenuous efforts, to great +things, without seeking any reward but their accomplishment.</p> + +<p>Nor let it be said that great subjects for the painter's pencil, the +poet's muse, are not to be found—that they are exhausted by former +efforts, and nothing remains to us but imitation. Nature is +inexhaustible; the events of men are unceasing, their variety is +endless. Philosophers were mourning the monotony of time, historians +were deploring the sameness of events, in the years preceding the +French Revolution—on the eve of the Reign of Terror, the flames of +Moscow, the retreat from Russia. What was the strife around Troy to +the battle of Leipsic?—the contests of Florence and Pisa to the +revolutionary war? What ancient naval victory to that of Trafalgar? +Rely upon it, subjects for genius are not wanting; genius itself, +steadily and perseveringly directed, is the thing required. But genius +and energy alone are not sufficient; <span class="smcap">COURAGE</span> and disinterestedness are +needed more than all. Courage to withstand the assaults of envy, to +despise the ridicule of mediocrity—disinterestedness to trample under +foot the seductions of ease, and disregard the attractions of +opulence. An heroic mind is more wanted in the library or the studio, +than in the field. It is wealth and cowardice which extinguish the +light of genius, and dig the grave of literature as of nations.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> +<h3>SETTLED AT LAST; OR, RED RIVER RECOLLECTIONS.</h3> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Chap.</span> I.</h4> + +<h5><span class="smcap">Homeward Bound</span>.</h5> + +<p>I had left New Orleans with the full intention of proceeding without +stop or delay to my home upon the Red River; but notwithstanding this +determination, my wife and myself were unable to resist Richards' +pressing invitation to pause for a day or two at his house. Upon our +yielding to his solicitations, he proceeded to recruit other guests +among our travelling companions, and soon got together a pleasant +party. My father-in-law, Monsieur Menou, went on to my plantation, but +Julie remained with us, as did also her aunt, Madame Duras, an +agreeable old lady with a slight expression of perfidy in her light +blue, French-looking eyes, possessed withal of infinite delicacy and +<i>finesse</i>—a fervent admirer of the old court school of Louis the +Fifteenth, in the <i>chronique scandaleuse</i> of which she was as well +versed as if she had been herself a contemporary of that +pleasure-loving monarch. Besides these ladies, there was a young +Frenchman named Vergennes, the third son of some Gascon viscount, and +a distant cousin of the Menous, who had come to America till the +scandal occasioned by certain republican scribblings of his in one of +the newspapers of the day should have blown over, and till he could +revisit his country without risk of obtaining a lodging gratis in the +Conciergerie. He had brought with him a head crammed with schemes for +the political regeneration of the whole world, and a trunkful of +French fashions, neither of which, as I reckoned, were likely to take +much with us. He made me laugh inwardly twenty times a-day by his +Utopian theories and fancies. Truth to tell, in matters of politics or +of sound common sense, these Frenchmen are for the most part mere +children, and reach their dying day without ever becoming men. Take +them by their weak points, their unlimited vanity or their love of +what they call glory, and you may ride them like a horse to water. +Vergennes, however, when one could get him off his hobby, was a +pleasant gentlemanly fellow enough.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to spare Richards more than three days, and at six +o'clock on the morning of the fourth, we went on board the steamer +Alexandria. I had prevailed on my friend and his wife, and the whole +party, to come and pass a week or two at my house, which was now quite +ready for the reception of guests. The three days we had remained with +Richards had been one continued fête, and considering the good living, +and the heat of the weather—the thermometer ranging from 95° to +100°—there were few things more agreeable or better to be done, than +to take a steam up the Red River. The fresh breezes on the water might +save some of us a touch of fever. On board we went therefore, all in +high glee and good-humour with each other.</p> + +<p>We had passed the Atchafalaya, and had crossed over to the +Francisville side, in order to avoid the powerful current occasioned +by the influx of the Red River into the Mississippi. A strong wind had +sprung up, and in the middle of the stream the waves were of a +considerable height. The Mississippi was full to overflowing, and the +mouth of the Red River, as far as the eye could reach, presented the +appearance of an extensive lake, with thousands of tree trunks +floating upon it. I had left the cabin, and was standing on deck with +Richards and Vergennes, looking out upon the broad sheet of water that +lay before us. We were just turning into the Red River when I observed +a rowboat pulling across from the direction of Woodville, and which +had already arrived within a hundred yards of us without attracting +the attention of any one on board the steamer. It was cutting in and +out amongst the enormous floating trees, with a boldness that, in that +part of the river<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>—near the middle of which we were—might almost be +called insanity.</p> + +<p>"That man must be mad, or in love!" cried the captain.</p> + +<p>"It is Ralph Doughby!" exclaimed Richards. "Captain, it is Mister +Doughby. Pray, stop the ship and let him come on board."</p> + +<p>Doughby it was. The mad fellow was standing bolt upright, and hardly +taking the trouble to bend to one side or the other in conformity with +the movements of the boat, which was dancing about on the waves and +between the tree-trunks, while the six negro rowers were washed over +and over by the spray.</p> + +<p>"Here's your famous Red River!" shouted the harebrained Doughby. "A +fine country for wild-ducks and geese, and alligators too. Hurra, +boys!"</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, Mr Doughby!" screamed and implored the ladies, as the +Kentuckian dashed his boat slap up to the side of the steamer, without +waiting till the speed of the vessel was slackened, and hastily caught +a rope which was thrown to him. Just at that moment a wave as high as +a man rose between the steamer and the boat and separated them, and +Doughby still maintaining his hold on the rope, he was dragged out of +his skiff and tossed like a feather against the steamer's side, where +he hung half in and half out of the water.</p> + +<p>"Haul in, boys—haul me in, lads—or your d——d paddles will do it!"</p> + +<p>"Pull him in!" shouted we all, "pull him in for God's sake!"</p> + +<p>"Ay, pull in!" cried Doughby, and giving a spring upwards he caught +hold of the railing of the deck, threw himself over it with a bound, +and stood in all safety amongst the astonished and grinny-visaged +Cyclops who were hastening to his assistance. We hurried down from the +quarterdeck, breathless with astonishment at this desperate and +unnecessary piece of daring.</p> + +<p>"Pshaw" cried Doughby; "steward, a glass of hot; and, captain, see +that my portmanteau comes on board, and that my negers get away with +whole skins; and a good morning to you, gentlemen—in five minutes we +shall meet again."</p> + +<p>And so saying, he emptied the glass which the black steward held out +to him, made a slight bow to the ladies on the quarterdeck, sprang +into the gentlemen's cabin, and thence into the first state-room that +stood open.</p> + +<p>"An <i>entrée en scène</i> quite <i>à la</i> Doughby," said Richards laughing.</p> + +<p>"Quite so," replied I.</p> + +<p>Ralph Doughby, Esquire of New Feliciana, La., was an old acquaintance +of Richards and myself, and an excellent specimen of a warm-hearted, +impetuous, breakneck Kentuckian, with a share of earthquake in his +composition that might be deemed large, even in Kentucky. He had come +to Louisiana some eight years previously, a voyage of a thousand miles +or more down the Cumberland River, the Ohio, and Mississippi, in a +flat boat with half a dozen negroes, some casks of flour, hams, and +Indian corn, and a few horses, and had settled at Woodville on a +couple of thousand acres of good land, bought at five dollars an acre, +to be paid in five years. His industry and energy had caused him to +thrive, and he was now as well established planter as any on the +Mississippi; his six negroes had amounted to forty, his wilderness had +become a respectable plantation, his cotton was sought after, and he +had not only paid for his acres but had already a large sum in the +Planters' Bank. His frank open character had made him friends on all +hands, and there was not a more popular man in Louisiana than Major +Ralph Doughby.</p> + +<p>During the stay I made at Richards' house previously to my marriage, +Doughby had passed a day there in company with one Mr Lambton and his +daughter, Yankees—the latter a beautiful girl, but cold and formal +like most of her countrywomen. An aunt of hers, who possessed large +plantations on the Mississippi, had made up a match between Miss +Lambton and Doughby, and they were then proceeding to New York, where +the marriage was in due time to be solemnized. Richards and myself had +observed, however, that the wild headlong manners and character of the +Kentuckian, joined though they were to great goodness of heart and +many sterling qualities, did not appear very pleasing to the stiff, +etiquette-loving fine lady, and it was without any great surprise<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +that we heard, some time afterwards, of the marriage being broken off, +in consequence, it was said, of some wild freak of Doughby's. We were +asking one another for the particulars of this rupture, which neither +of us had heard, when the Kentuckian made his reappearance in the +cabin. He had changed his dress, and, taking him altogether, was by no +means an ill-looking fellow. His light blue gingham frock and +snow-white trousers fitted him well; an elegant straw hat, very fine +linen, and a diamond shirt-pin that must have cost the best part of a +thousand dollars, contributed to give a sort of genteel planter-like +air. His first care upon emerging from his state-room was to empty a +glass of toddy. He then approached Richards and myself.</p> + +<p>"And Miss Lambton?" said Richards enquiringly.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you heard?" said Doughby; "you must have heard! It's all +up—she won't hear speak of me—persists in her resolution—won't see +me; or give me a chance of making my peace. I'm the most unlucky +fellow on the face of the earth," continued he, changing his tone on a +sudden to a melancholy sort of whine—"I wish I lay three hundred feet +deep in the bed of the Mississippi. I tell you, boys, it's clean up +with me, I feel that. I'm a lost man, done for entirely—shall never +recover it!"</p> + +<p>We burst out into a violent fit of laughter, as who would not have +done at the sight of a young giant of seven-and-twenty, with cheeks as +red as poppies, shoulders that seemed made like those of Atlas to +support a world; pair of dark blue-grey eyes with a laughing devil +dancing in them, and a little moist just now from the effects of the +toddy, and the man dying of love! He measured five feet thirteen +inches in his stockings, with legs that might have belonged to an +elephant, and fists calculated to frighten a buffalo.</p> + +<p>"Be d——d to your laughing!" cried Doughby—"Steward, another +glass—d'ye hear, you cursed neger, where are you hidden? Don't you +hear when a gentleman speaks to you? D'ye want me to tattoo your black +brainpan? You laugh," he continued to Richards and myself, relapsing +into his whimpering tones; "but if you only knew—none of the women +will have me—this is the seventh who has packed me off."</p> + +<p>"The seventh!" cried I laughing, "what, only the seventh, Doughby? +Pshaw! that's nothing; during my bachelor's life I had at least two +dozen refusals, and I am only a year older than yourself."</p> + +<p>"You be hanged with your two dozen! Steward, the toddy is only fit for +old women—too much water in it; you don't know how to make toddy. +Tell your captain to come here. I'll have you sent to the devil. No, I +tell you my heart is so full, it feels as if it would burst. She won't +hear of me. I will tell you all about it, boys—but who is that?" +interrupted he, pointing to Vergennes, who was standing near us, and +looking on in great wonderment. "Ah, Monshur Tonson! happy to see you, +Monshur Tonson! Parleh vouh English? Prenez un seat, et un glass de +Madeira. Nous parlerons hansamble le Franseh. Neger, a bottle of +Madeira; and let it be good, or you'll get the bottle across your +crooked shins. A bottle of Irish for me, d'ye hear, real Irish whisky, +or if you haven't any, Scotch will do. No, boys, I tell you I am a +gone man. Dismissed, sent away, packed off with a flea in my ear, as +they say."</p> + +<p>And so saying, he threw himself on a sofa with a violence that made it +crack again; the steward brought the Madeira and the whisky, and we +drew round the table to condole with the love-stricken Kentuckian. A +few minutes passed in the composition of the toddy, which was +evidently destined to play the chief part in the way of a consoler; +and when Doughby had got a large beer-glass of the comfortable mixture +before him, he began his narrative.</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> +<h4><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> II</h4> + +<h5><span class="smcap">The Race</span>.</h5> + +<p>"I will tell you how it all happened, and how it was that Miss +Lambton—in short you shall hear it all—it's the first time I have +spoken about it, but now it shall out; you shall judge and decide +between us, by Jove you shall! You recollect it was in the beginning +of June that we left your house, Richards, to go up the +Mississippi—it was a Friday, a day that I hate. All seamen and +hunters do hate it; it's an unlucky day. All the bad luck I ever had, +came to me on Fridays. I had a feeling that something would go wrong +when we went on board the Helen M'Gregor. I thought Miss Lambton +looked shy upon me, and the old gentleman stiffer than ever. I +followed the Miss, however, wherever she went, so close, that once or +twice I trod the fringe off her petticoats."</p> + +<p>"That was bad manners, Doughby."</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! What did it matter? I told her not to bother her head about +it, that when we got to New York, or even to Cincinnati or Louisville, +I would buy her a whole shopful of dresses. She made no answer to +that; but when I had the misfortune to tear her third flounce, she +said, that if I went on in that way she would not have a whole gown +left when she got to Louisville. 'With a whole one or none at all, +Miss,' said I, 'you'll always be a charming creature.' That now was as +pretty a compliment as ever was paid in Kentucky, but she did not seen +to hear it.</p> + +<p>"On the third day we were just passing St Helena, when old Lambton +came up to me. 'Mister Doughby,' said he, quite confidential like, +'pardon me, my dear good Mister Doughby, but don't you think that you +sometimes take rather too much ardent spirits, and thereby injure your +health as well as give a bad example to your fellow-citizens, which, +on the part of a respectable man like yourself, is very much to be +regretted?'</p> + +<p>"'Bad example!' says I—'to be regretted, Mister Lambton!—I take too +much ardent spirits! I certainly am not of that opinion, Mister +Lambton, and if you are I can only say you are very much mistaken. You +shall see yourself,' said I, 'how much ballast an old Kentuckian can +take in without sinking under it: devil a diving duck ever swallowed +more water than a Kentucky man can rum.'</p> + +<p>"I thought to let the old squaretoes see that he had a man before him, +not one of his spindleshanked tallow-chopped Yankees, who go sneaking +about the meeting-house from morning till night, or moping in their +rooms, and calculating and speculating how they can best take in +honest warm-blooded South and Westlanders. 'You shall see,' said +I—but he shook his head and walked away, and I looked after him, and +shook my head too. Pah! I found out afterwards that he was president +of a temperance society, the devil take them all! Temperance +societies! What is rum for, if it isn't to be drank?"</p> + +<p>Doughby was rapidly warming with his subject.</p> + +<p>"He is a queer old fellow, that Mister Lambton, as stiff and as cold +as an icicle on a water-butt. Of a morning he was scarcely out of bed +when he knocked at the door of the ladies' cabin in his brocade +dressing-gown, and Miss Lambton must come out and hear him read the +whole morning service of the Episcopal Church, and make the responses, +and so on, for a full hour. Then the whole day he walked about as +grave and solemn as the chief-justice of the district court. Before +dinner he said a grace which lasted a full quarter of an hour. The +soup was often cold, and half the dinner eaten up from under our +noses, while this was going on. Sometimes most of the other passengers +had done their dinner, and were gone to the bar to take a glass, and +he still praying. I was often ready to jump out of my skin with +impatience."</p> + +<p>"The praying was all well enough, if it had not lasted so long," said +I, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Pah! I hate people who are al<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>ways wanting to be a shining light to +their fellow-citizens. There's a deal of pride, a deal of arrogance +and presumption in it. If a man wishes to pray, let him do so, and I +do it myself; but people don't want to be reminded of those things. I +tell you I have always found pride behind that sort of piety. The +Yankees think we are heathens, and that they are the elect who are to +enlighten us. Pshaw! I hate such humbug."</p> + +<p>"Not so badly reasoned," observed Richards.</p> + +<p>"However," continued Doughby, "I soon saw that, with one thing or +another, I was getting out of the old gentleman's good books. He +became more and more stiff and silent. That wouldn't have annoyed me +much; but one morning the captain came to me and said, in a sort of +apologising manner, that the ladies had desired him to beg me not to +pay so many visits to their cabin, particularly of a morning, when +some of them had not quite finished their toilet, but that I should +always ask leave first and have myself announced, as it is set down in +the regulations."</p> + +<p>"'What!' says I, 'have myself announced when I go to see my own wife, +that is to be? What do the other ladies matter to me, whether they've +got on silk gowns or cotton ones? I only go to see Miss Lambton.'</p> + +<p>"'Miss Lambton was present,' said the captain, 'when the ladies gave +me the commission; and she and Mr Lambton most particularly requested +me to have the regulations enforced.'</p> + +<p>"'Miss Lambton!' said I; 'that's a lie now, captain. She never could +have done that.'</p> + +<p>"'Mister Doughby,' said he, 'it is no lie; and if another than +yourself had said such a thing, I would have struck him down like a +mad dog. And I must beg of you to retract your words, and ascertain to +your own satisfaction that what I have said is a fact.'</p> + +<p>"So I ran off and asked Miss Lambton and Mr Lambton, and they answered +me as dry as fagots, and said the captain had spoken the truth. I was +a'most raving mad when I heard this, as savage as a panther; and, to +console myself, I drank perhaps a trifle more than I should have done. +But what else can one do on a voyage up the Mississippi? Much as I +like him, old father Mississip, one gets awful sick of him after a +time, steaming along for days and weeks together, nothing to be heard +but clap-clap-clap, trap-trap-trap, or to be seen but the dull muddy +waters and the never-ending forest. Day and night, wood and water, +water and wood. It is wearisome work at the best.</p> + +<p>"It was exactly two o'clock in the afternoon on the seventh day of our +voyage when we got beyond Wolf's Island, which, as you know, lies +above New Madrid and below the mouth of the Ohio. The poor Helen +M'Gregor burst her boiler since then, as you'll have heard, at that +very place, and sent half a hundred passengers into the other world. +Past Wolf's Island, we came up with the Ploughboy, the Huntress, the +Louisville, and a couple more steamers, all going our way. It made +quite a little fleet. I was sitting in the cabin with Miss Lambton and +the old gentleman, who were cool and silent enough, when somebody +called out, 'Here comes the George Washington.' A glorious steamer it +is that George, more like a floating palace than a boat, as it goes +skimming along as lightly and smoothly as a swan. It's a real pleasure +to see it. I kept my place by Miss Lambton; but, to tell you the +truth, I was sitting upon hot coals. What can be the reason that we +men feel so deucedly cowed and quailed by the petticoats? Hang me if I +know. Suddenly there was a cry upon deck, 'The Washington is passing +us.' I could stand it no longer, but bolted up-stairs, and sure enough +there it came in all its pride and power, trarara, trarara, rushing +and dashing and spitting fire like Emperor Nap. at the head of his +guards and dragoons and artillery. It was already in the midst of the +other five steamers, passing them all. The whole of our passengers +were on deck looking on, and I can tell you that our hearts beat quick +as we saw the George walking up to us. The dinner-bell rang. Not a +foot moved to go below. 'Captain,' cried I, 'we must not let the +George pass us;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> you can't think of allowing such a thing?' says I; +'must show them that we are Mississippi men.'</p> + +<p>"'Mister Doughby,' says he, 'it's the George Washington,' says +he—'hundred and twenty horse power,' says he.</p> + +<p>"'Devil a hundred,' said I. 'You only say so because you are afraid to +race him. And if he had two hundred horse power, what then? Shorten +your stirrups and give your horse the spur,' say I.</p> + +<p>"I saw that the captain's blood was getting up; his eyes were fixed on +the old George as if he would have eaten it, and he became red and +blue and green, all manner of colours, like a dolphin; his teeth +chattered, and he bit his lips till the blood ran over his chin. On +came the Washington quicker than ever, the paddles clattering, the +steam hissing, the crew hurraing like mad.</p> + +<p>"'Captain,' cried I, 'the Washington's passing you; it's all up with +the honour of the Helen M'Gregor.'</p> + +<p>"The captain stood there as if his face had been rubbed over with +chalk, and the drops of sweat ran down his forehead. The five steamers +that we had passed were now hurraing with delight to see that we +should be humbled in our turn. 'Captain,' said I, 'will you let +yourself be beaten out of the field without firing a shot? The Helen +M'Gregor is a new ship—Crack on, man!'</p> + +<p>"He could stand it no longer, but ran forward and screamed out to the +stokers. 'More wood!' cried he, 'High pressure, high pressure!'</p> + +<p>"'Blaze away, boys!' cried I, 'Blaze away, and hurra for the Helen +M'Gregor!'</p> + +<p>"And the fellows pitched whole cartloads of wood upon the fire, and +stirred and poked away till they were wet through with perspiration, +and our chimney began to whistle and sing, that it was a pleasure to +hear it. We were just entering the Ohio, the Washington close upon our +heels, when old Lambton and Emily came running upon deck in an +almighty fright.</p> + +<p>"'Mr Doughby, for heaven's sake! Mr Doughby—captain, for God's sake! +Will you destroy yourself, and the steamer, and your fellow-citizens? +Will you race with the George Washington?'</p> + +<p>"'For God's sake, Mr Doughby!' cried the Miss.</p> + +<p>"'Mr Doughby!' squealed the old Yankee, who had quite forgotten his +stiffness, 'I demand and insist that you use your influence to prevent +the captain from racing.'</p> + +<p>"'Pshaw!' said I, 'it's nothing of the sort—ain't going to race—only +want to see which ship goes quickest.'</p> + +<p>"'That must not be. I protest against it—the safety of our +fellow-citizens—our own. If the boiler bursts'——</p> + +<p>"'Nonsense!' said I—'safety of our fellow-citizens! Our +fellow-citizens <i>are</i> in safety. We don't mean to race, Mister +Lambton,' says I; 'we are only trying for a minute which ship can go +the fastest.'</p> + +<p>"'Mr Doughby!' cried Emily, half beside herself—throwing her arms +round me, and trying to drag me towards the engine—'Mr Doughby, if +you have the smallest affection—regard I would say—for me, exert +your influence, stop this horrid racing!'</p> + +<p>"And then she left me and ran to the captain, who was standing beside +the engineer.</p> + +<p>"The Washington was close behind us—we, as I said before, were +running slap into the mouth of the Ohio. There's no finer piece of +water in the whole world for a race. The current of the Mississippi +drives back that of the Ohio as far as Trinity, so that upon entering +the river, the stream is in your favour. The two rivers are together +four or five miles wide, and form a sort of circus, enclosed by the +shores of Illinois, of Old Kentuck, and her daughter Missouri.[<a name="f4.1" id="f4.1" href="#f4">4</a>] We +were nearest to the Illinois side, which gave us a small advantage +over our opponent, who was more on the Kentucky side, end kept coming +on faster and faster, with the other five boats, who had also clapped +more steam on, a short distance behind him. Our Helen M'Gregor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +still kept the lead; who the devil could have helped racing? No one, +of a certainty, except such a mackerel-blooded Yankee as old Lambton. +All was heat and steam, rattle and clatter; the engines thumping, the +water splashing, the fire blazing and roaring out of the chimneys, +which sent out clouds of smoke and showers of sparks. The enemy was +close upon us, Father George's honest face almost in a line with our +stern.</p> + +<p>"'Helen M'Gregor, hold your own!' cried I. 'Don't spare the wood, +boys, lay it on thick, pile it up moun<i>tain</i>eous; ten dollars for you +when you've beaten him!'</p> + +<p>"'Hurra!' cried the hundred passengers; 'hurra! The Washington loses, +we are gaining ground.'</p> + +<p>"Only the captain could not say a word; he stood there with his blue +lips pressed hard together, looking more like a statue than a man. We +were going our twenty knots, and keep it up we must if we did not want +to fall back amongst the mob of the Huntress, the Ploughboy, and the +rest of them. Every joint and hinge in the boat seemed to be cracking, +the engine roared and groaned, the steam howled and hissed.</p> + +<p>"'The Helen M'Gregor is a gallant lass!' cried I. 'A brave +Scotchwoman! She has fire in her veins.'</p> + +<p>"And so she really had. She stretched out like a racehorse that feels +the spur in his flank for the first time; not steaming or swimming, +but flying like a bird, rushing like a wild-cat or an elk that's been +shot at; the waters of the Ohio flashing from her side in a white +creamy foam. The Kentucky shores on our right, with their forests and +cotton-trees, were flying away from us; on our left, the banks of +Illinois seemed to dance past us, the big trees looking like witches +scampering off on their broomsticks. Behind us, the high land of +Missouri was rapidly disappearing, Colonel Boon's plantation getting +smaller every second, till at last it appeared no bigger than a +dovecot. Every thing around us seemed in motion, swimming, flying, +racing. Hurras by thousands; seven steamers groaning, creaking, +hissing, and rattling; a noise and a heat that made our heads dizzy, +blinded our eyes, and took away our hearing. It was a gallopade, a +race between giants.</p> + +<p>"We were close to the wood below Trinity—the race as good as won, for +Trinity was of course the winning post. Suddenly the captain cried +out, 'He is passing us!' and, as he said the word, he looked as wild +as a tortured redskin, and bit his lips more savage than ever, and +caught hold of the quarterdeck railing as if he would have torn it +down.</p> + +<p>"'Captain,' said I, 'it's impossible—he is not passing us.'</p> + +<p>"'Look yourself, Mr Doughby,' said he.</p> + +<p>"The man was right. The old George is an almighty fast ship, that is +certain. I saw that in two minutes we should be beaten. We had not +even so long to wait.</p> + +<p>"'By my soul he is passing us!' cried I.</p> + +<p>"'He is passing us,' repeated the captain in a low voice. He was +deadly white. I couldn't say a word; and as for him, he was obliged to +support himself against the railing, or he would have fallen down. +There was no help for it, however; the Washington's figure-head was +already in a line with our stern—in ten seconds, a third of the +vessel's length was parallel with us—another ten seconds, two-thirds, +and in less than a minute he dashed proudly before us with a deafening +hurra from crew and passengers, which was echoed from the other five +steamers, till we heard nothing on all sides but hurras and hurras. I +would have given a thousand dollars down to have reached Trinity two +minutes sooner. Just then a number of voices cried out, 'The boiler's +bursting! The boiler's bursting!' And there was a cracking <ins class="correction" title="Original reads 'noice'">noise</ins>, and +then a loud rush. Here comes the hot bath, thought I, and wished +myself a pleasant journey out of the world. But it was nothing; the +cry came from a couple of negers, echoed by Miss Lambton and Mister +Lambton, and the rest of the old women folk from the ladies' cabin. +They had gone in a body to the engineer, and had so begged, and +prayed, and bothered him, that he had given in, and opened the valve, +and we only half a mile from Trinity. I am certain that if the +cowardly rascal had not done<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> that, we should have made a drawn race +of it, for the Washington got in not two minutes before us. I fell +upon the engineer, and if it had not been for the captain, and one or +two old acquaintances, I should have leathered him upon the spot—ay, +if it were to have cost me a thousand dollars; he deserved it well, +the dishonourable scamp! We were now in Trinity, we had done five +miles in less than twelve minutes; but Miss Lambton was so angry, and +the old gentleman so bitter cold and stiff—a pair of fire-tongs is +nothing compared to him—Couldn't be helped, however. Honor before +every thing."</p> + +<p>"But you really were too foolhardy," observed Richards.</p> + +<p>"Foolhardy!" repeated Doughby, "foolhardy, when the honour of a ship +was at stake!"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! The honour of a steam-boat!"</p> + +<p>"Pshaw, do you say, Richards? Well, if I didn't know you to be a +thoroughbred Virginian, hang me if I should not almost take you for +one of those wishywashy Creoles. Pshaw, say you, the honour of a +steam-boat! A steamer, let me tell you, is also a ship, and a big one +too, and an American one, a thorough American one. It's our ship; we +invented it, they'd have been long enough in the old country before +finding such a thing out—Pshaw, do you say? And if Percy had said +pshaw upon Lake Erie, or Lawrence on Champlain, or Rogers, or Porter, +you might say pshaw to every thing—to the honour of a steamer, a +ship, a country. But I tell you that the man who says pshaw when his +ship is beaten in a race, will also say it when it is taken in a +fight. In short, that sort of pride is emulation, and that emulation +is the real thing."</p> + +<p>"But the life of so many men?"</p> + +<p>"I tell you, that of the hundred and twenty passengers that we had on +board the Helen, there were not three besides that leathern old +Yankee, Mister Lambton, and the women, who would have cared one straw +if the boiler had burst, provided we had got to Trinity two minutes +the sooner."</p> + +<p>We could not help laughing at this Kentucky bull, but at the same time +we were compelled to admit the truth of what Doughby meant to say. In +spite of Uncle Sam's usual phlegm and <i>nonchalance</i>, there are +occasions when he seems to change his nature; and in the anxiety to +see his ship first at the goal, to forget what he does not otherwise +easily lose sight of, namely, wife and child, land and goods; as to +his own life, it does not weigh a feather in the balance. He becomes a +perfect madman, setting every thing upon a single cast. And the yearly +loss of five hundred to a thousand lives, sacrificed in these +desperate races, does not appear to cure him in any degree of his +mania.</p> + +<p>"Well," continued Doughby, resuming his narrative, "it was as much as +I could do to get a word from Miss Emily during the rest of the +voyage. The time went terribly slow, and my patience was clean +expended when we got to Louisville. We stopped at the Lafayette Hotel, +and I was in my room before dinner, when the waiter brought me a +letter from Mister Lambton. The old gentleman had the honour to inform +me, in accordance with his daughter's wishes, that there did not exist +sufficient harmony between my character and that of Miss Emily to +render a union between us desirable. And, under these circumstances, +he took leave to request of me that I would consider the projected +marriage as entirely broken off; and, with his and his daughter's best +wishes for my happiness, he had the honour to be my very humble +servant. There was a deal more of it, but that was the pith. When I +had read it, I burst out of my room like mad, either to throttle old +Lambton or to throw myself at his daughter's feet, I didn't rightly +know which. But the Yankee had been too cunning for me. He had left +the hotel with his daughter, and gone off by the Cincinnati steamer. I +went on board the next that was going, and got to Cincinnati three +hours after him, but missed him again. He had taken a chaise and +started for his estate at Dayton, near Yellow Springs. And all I have +done since is no use. She won't hear of me, and I'm the most unhappy +fellow alive."</p> + +<p>And so saying, he threw his feet upon the table, crossed his arms, +and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> remained in this position for a couple of minutes, staring +earnestly at the ceiling. Suddenly he brought his legs down again, +started up, and gazed through the cabin window.</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" cried he, "here are your Red River bottoms. Will have a look +at them—will go on deck? You may take away, steward. Come, Monshur +Tonson, come with me, come, my dear little Frenchman! Nous parlons +hansamble le Fransch."</p> + +<p>And thereupon he struck up the favourite western ditty, "Let's go to +Old Kentuck," seized young De Vergennes by the arm, and dragged him +through the folding-doors and out upon deck.</p> + +<p>"He's not the man to break his heart about a woman," said I to +Richards.</p> + +<p>"Hardly," replied my friend.</p> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<h4><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> III</h4> + +<h5><span class="smcap">The Stag Hunt</span>.</h5> + +<p>We had sat for some time talking over Doughby's mishaps, when we were +interrupted by a noise upon deck. Hurras and hellos were resounding +off on every side and corner of the steamer. We hurried out to see +what was the matter, and found the cause of the tumult to be a fallow +deer, that had taken the water some two hundred yards from our +steamer, and was swimming steadily across from the right to the left +bank of the river. The yawl had already been lowered, and was pushing +off from the side with five men in it, amongst whom Doughby of course +took the lead.</p> + +<p>"There he is again," cited Richards. "Of a certainty the man is +possessed by a devil."</p> + +<p>"Hurra, boys! Give way!" shouted Doughby, flourishing a rifle full six +feet in length. The four oars clipped into the water, and the boat +flew to the encounter of the deer, who was tranquilly pursuing his +liquid path.</p> + +<p>We were about entering one of those picturesque <i>spreads</i>, or bays of +the Red River, which perhaps no other stream can boast of in such +abundance, and on so magnificent a scale. The lofty trees and huge +masses of foliage of the dense forest that covered the left bank, bent +forward over the water, the dark green of the cypresses, and the +silver white of the gigantic cotton-trees, casting a bronze-tinted +shadow upon the dusky red stream, which at that point is full fifteen +hundred feet broad; the right bank offering a succession of the most +luxuriant palmetto grounds, with here and there a bean or tulip tree, +amongst the branches of which innumerable parroquets were chattering +and bickering. A pleasant breeze swept across from the palmetto +fields, scarcely sufficient, however, to ruffle the water, which +flowed tranquilly along, undisturbed save by the paddle of our +steamer, that caused the huge black logs and tree-trunks floating upon +the surface, to knock against each other, and heave up their +extremities like so many porpoises. The steamer had just entered the +bay when a boat shot out from under the wood on the left bank, and +greatly increased the romantic character of the scene.</p> + +<p>It was a long Indian canoe made out of the hollowed trunk of a cotton +tree; a many-tined antler was stuck in the prow, and dried legs and +haunches of venison lay in the fore part of the boat; towards the +stern sat a young girl, partially enveloped in a striped blanket, but +naked from the waist upwards, impelling the boat in the direction of +the deer by long graceful sweeps of her oar; in front of her was a +squaw of maturer age, performing a like labour. In the centre of the +canoe were two children, queer guinea-pig-looking little devils, and +near these lay a man in all the lazy apathy of a redskin on his return +from on the hunting ground; but towards the stern stood a splendid +Antinous-like young savage, leaning in an attitude of graceful +negligence on his rifle, and evidently waiting an opportunity to get a +blow or a shot at the stag. As soon as these children of the forest +caught sight of the steamer and of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> Doughby's boat, they ceased +rowing, only recommencing when encouraged by some loud hurras, and +even then visibly taking care to keep as far as possible from the +fire-ship. It was a picturesque and interesting sight to observe the +two boats describing a sort of circle on the broad ruddy stream, while +the steamer rounding to, formed in a manner the base of the operation, +and cut off the stag's retreat. Presently a shot fired without effect +from Doughby's boat, drove the beast over towards the canoe. The long +slender bark darted across the animal's track with the swiftness of an +arrow, and as it did so, the Indian who was standing up dealt the stag +a blow that caused it to reel and spin round in the water, and change +its course for the second time. When I again glanced at the canoe, the +young Indian had disappeared.</p> + +<p>"Here he comes" shouted Doughby, pointing to the deer, which was now +swimming towards his boat. "Give way, boys! the Indians must learn of +a Kentucky man how to strike a stag. Give way, I say!"</p> + +<p>The noble beast had recovered from the severe blow it had received, +and had now approached the steamer towards which it cast such a +supplicating tearful look, that the hearts of the ladies were touched +with compassion.</p> + +<p>"Mr Doughby," cried half a score feminine voices, "spare the poor +beast! Pray, pray let it go!"</p> + +<p>"Spare a stag, ladies! Where did you ever hear of such a thing? Hurra, +boys!" shouted he, as the boat came up with the deer, and clubbing his +rifle, he delivered a blow with the but-end that split the stock in +two, and threw the stunned animal upon the gunwale of the boat. Quick +as thought, Doughty clutched the antlers with one hand, while with the +other he reached for the knife which one of his companions held out to +him. At that moment the deer threw itself on one side with a +convulsive movement, the boat rocked, Doughby lost his balance, the +stag, which was now recovering its strength, drew itself violently +back, and in an instant the Kentuckian was floundering in the water, +struggling with the deer, to whose horns he held on with the gripe of +a tiger.</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Mister Doughby in the Red River!"</p> + +<p>The whole ship was now in an uproar, the ladies screaming, the men +shouting directions and advice to those in the boat. We began to be +somewhat anxious as to the result; for although these water hunts are +by no means uncommon occurrences, they are often dangerous and +sometimes fatal to the hunter. The deer had been severely stunned and +hurt, but not killed, by the blow it had received, and it now strove +fiercely against its powerful opponent, throwing him from side to side +by violent tossess of its head. Doughby still held on like grim death, +but his eyes began to roll and stare wildly, his strength was +evidently diminishing, and he had each moment more difficulty in +partially controlling the stag's movements, and preventing the furious +beast from running its antlers into his body. It was in vain that the +four men in the boat endeavoured to render assistance. Man and beast +were rolling and twisting about in the river like two water snakes. +The scene that had at first been interesting had now become painful to +behold.</p> + +<p>"Fire, Parker! Fire, Rolby!" shouted several voices from the steamer +to the men in the boat.</p> + +<p>"Knock the cussed redskin on the head!" was the unintelligible +rejoinder of one of the latter.</p> + +<p>The stag had now got Doughby close to a tree-trunk, against which it +was making violent efforts to crush him. His life was in imminent +peril, and a universal cry of horror and alarm burst from the +spectators. Just then the head of the deer fell on its breast, the +eyes glazing and the legs flinging out convulsively in the agony of +death; at the same time, however, Doughby began to sink, and a bright +streak of blood that rose to the surface of the water, and spread in a +circle round the combatants, gave reason to fear that the mad +Kentuckian had received some deadly hurt. At last the men in the boat +succeeded in getting hold of Doughby and the stag, the former being +seized by the hair of the head, while his hands still clung to the +deer's antlers with the desperate grasp of a drowning man. A shout of +triumph echoed from one end of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> steam-boat to the other, and we +all felt a sensation of relief proportionate to the painful state of +suspense in which we had been kept.</p> + +<p>Doughby sat for a short space doubled up in the bottom of the boat, +gazing straight before him with a fixed unconscious sort of look. The +grating of the boat against the side of the steamer seemed to rouse +him from his apathy, and he slowly ascended the ladder.</p> + +<p>"For heaven's sake, Doughby," cried Richards, as the Kentuckian set +his foot upon deck, "what demon is it that possesses you, and drives +you to risk your neck at every turn?"</p> + +<p>"The devil take you," retorted Doughby, "and your Red River water to +boot! Brr, brr! d——d bad water your Red River water, say I! No, no, +talk to me of Mississippi water.[<a name="f5.1" id="f5.1" href="#f5">5</a>] If I am to be drowned, it sha'n't +be in the stinking Red River. I've a taste in my mouth as if I had +swallowed saltpetre and sulphur, with a dash of prussic acid. But tell +me," cried he to the passengers and sailors by whom he was surrounded, +"who gave him his settler? The deer, I mean. Who finished him?"</p> + +<p>"Who?" repeated every body, "why, who but yourself, Mister Doughby?"</p> + +<p>"I!" replied Doughby, shaking his head, "I had something else to do +besides knifing the stag. No, no, I had plenty to think of to keep +away from the tree-trunk. Besides, I let the knife fall at the very +moment the beast dragged me out of the boat. But see there, boys!" +added he, pointing to the deer, which was at this moment hoisted upon +deck.</p> + +<p>The animal had a deep knife wound in the belly, and the tendons of the +hind legs were cut right across.</p> + +<p>"That's the Indian's handiwork," said Doughby.</p> + +<p>"What Indian?" cried we all.</p> + +<p>"The Indian whom Rolby was going to knock on the head."</p> + +<p>"I thought he wanted to chouse us out of the deer," said Rolby; "I saw +his bacon-face appear for a minute from behind the tree-trunk, and at +first I took it for a log, but I soon saw it was a redskin. It +wouldn't have been a great harm if I had sent a bit of lead through +him. What business has an Injun to meddle, when gentlemen"——</p> + +<p>"No great harm!" interrupted Doughby impatiently. "The Indian, I can +tell you——d'ye hear? Ralph Doughby tells you——has more real blood +in his little finger than ten such leather-chopped fellows as yourself +in their whole bodies, making all allowance for your white hide and +your citizenship, neither of which, by the way, are much better than +they should be. Ten times more, I tell you, and, if you don't believe +it, I'll let you know it. A fine fellow he is, that redskin. He saw +that I was at a pinch, and he came to help me when none of my own +friends were able. And now, see yonder, there he stands in his canoe +again, just as if he had done nothing but the most natural thing in +the world. Chouse us out of the deer, say ye; and who had a right to +hinder him if he had? The beast was bred in his woods as well as ours; +a fair field and no favour is our motto in old Kentuck. I tell you the +Indian is a brave redskin, and the stag is his; but I'll buy it of +him. Hallo, captain! a dozen bottles of rum into the boat! Howard, +Richards, let me have half a dozen dollars, silver dollars, d'ye hear? +I'll pay the Indian a visit on board his canoe, and thank him as he +ought to be thanked."</p> + +<p>No sooner said than done. The captain, however unwilling to lose any +more time, could not resist the impetuosity of the good-natured +scatterbrain, who sprang, dripping wet as he was, into the boat, a +bottle in each hand, and a friendly hurra upon his lips. The Indians +at first seemed alarmed and doubtful as to his intentions; but the +signs and words of peace and encouragement that were given, and +shouted to them from all sides, and above all, the sight of the +bottles, soon removed their fears. In another minute or two we saw +Dough<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>by in their canoe, shaking hands with them, and putting one of +the bottles to his mouth. A little more, and I believe they would all, +men, women, and children, have begun the war-dance in the canoe, so +delighted were they with the magnificent present of the rum and +dollars. As it was, they shook and mauled Doughby till he was fain to +jump back into his boat, and escape as well as he could from their +wild caresses and demonstrative gratitude.</p> + +<p>But we have been nearly twelve hours on the water, and the Alexandria +is a noted fast steamer. Our course has lain for some time between +banks covered with gigantic forests of live oak, cotton, bean, and +cypress trees, with here and there a palmetto field, and on the north +shore an occasional plantation, for the most part a mere log-hut, with +a strip of tobacco, cotton, or Indian corn. We have seen numerous +deer, who, on the appearance of our steamer, gallop back into the +woods—swans, cranes, geese, and ducks, wild pigeons, turkeys, and +alligators, are there by thousands. We now enter a broad part of the +river, and are gliding along in front of a wide clearing, some half +mile long, and surrounded by colossal evergreen oaks; a snug-looking +house of greenish-white colour stands in the middle of the plantation, +with orange gardens—that are to be—laid out and enclosed in front of +it; one enormous live oak, that looks as if it had stood there since +the flood, spreading its knotty limbs over the eastern side of the +habitation. The windows on the balconies are open, the Venetian blinds +drawn up, the sinking sun throws its mellow rays over the whole +peaceful and pleasant scene. And see there! We are expected: a small +variegated ball flies up to the top of the lightning conductor, and +the banner of our Union flutters out, displaying its thirteen stripes +and twenty-four stars, and the white American eagle, the thunder of +Jupiter and the symbols of peace in his talons. At the same moment, +Plato and Tully, two of my negroes, come rushing like demented +creatures out of the house, one with a stick in his hand, the other +bearing a pan of hot coals. They are closely pursued by Bangor, who +seems disposed to dispute Tully's title to the embers. In the struggle +the coals fly in every direction; of a surety, the dingy rascals will +burn my house before my eyes. Now comes Philip, a fourth negro, and +tries to snatch the stick from Plato's hand; but the latter is on his +guard, and fetches his adversary a wipe over the pate, that snaps the +stick—a tolerably thick one, by the way—in two. Both retreat a short +distance, and lowering their heads like a couple of angry steers, run +full tilt against each other, with force that would fracture any +skulls except African ones. Once, twice, three times—at the third +encounter, Plato the sage bites the dust before the hero of Macedon. +Confound the fellows! My companions are laughing fit to split +themselves, but I see nothing to laugh at. I shall have them in +hospital for the next ten days. Tully, however, has picked up the pan +and the embers, and is rushing towards a flag-staff near the shore, +from which the Louisianian flag is waving. I see now what they are all +at. They have brought down the Wasp and the Scorpion from on Menou's +plantation, two four-pounders so named, which were taken last year on +board a Porto Rico pirate, and which my father-in-law bought. +Boum—boum—and at the sound the whole black population of the +plantation comes flocking to the shore, capering and jumping like so +many opera-dancers, only not quite so gracefully, and shouting +out—"Massa come; hurra, massa come! Massa maum bring; hurra, massa!" +and manifesting a joy that is probably rendered more lively by the +hopes of an extra ration of rum and salt-fish. And now Monsieur Menou +and his son hurry down to receive us; the steamer stops, the plank is +thrown across, and amidst shaking of hands, and farewells, and good +wishes, our party hurries on shore. Thank heaven! we are home, and +settled at last.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> +<h3>BORODINO.—AN ODE.</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Borodino"> +<tr><td> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><span class="smcap">Strophe</span>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Weep for the <i>living</i>! mourn no more</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thy children slain on Moskwa's shore,</span><br /> +Cut off from evil! want, and anguish,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And care, for ever brooding and in vain;</span><br /> +No more to be beguiled! no more to languish<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Under the yoke of labour and of pain!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Their doom of future joy or woe</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For good or evil done below,</span><br /> +The Judge of all the earth will order rightly!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Flee winding error through the flowery way,</span><br /> +To daily follow truth! to ponder nightly<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">On time, and death, and judgment, nearer day by day!</span><br /> +Bewail thy bane, deluded France,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Vain-glory, overweening pride,</span><br /> +And harrying earth with eagle glance,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ambition, frantic homicide!</span><br /> +Lament, of all that armed throng<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How few may reach their native land!</span><br /> +By war and tempest to be borne along,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To strew, like leaves, the Scythian strand?</span><br /> +Before Jehovah who can stand?<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">His path in evil hour the dragon cross'd!</span><br /> +He casteth forth his ice! at his command<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The deep is frozen!—all is lost!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: -1em;">For who, great God, is able to abide thy frost?<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><span class="smcap">Epode</span>.</span><br /> +<br /> +Elate of heart, and wild of eye,<br /> +Crested horror hurtles by;<br /> +Myriads, hurrying north and east,<br /> +Gather round the funeral feast!<br /> +From lands remote, beyond the Rhine,<br /> +Running o'er with oil and wine,<br /> +Wide-waving over hill and plain,<br /> +Herbage green, and yellow grain;<br /> +From Touraine's smooth irriguous strand,<br /> +Garden of a fruitful land,<br /> +To thy dominion, haughty Rhone,<br /> +Leaping from thy craggy throne;<br /> +From Alp and Apennine to where<br /> +Gleam the Pyrenees in air;<br /> +From pastoral vales and piny woods,<br /> +Rocks and lakes and mountain-floods,<br /> +The warriors come, in armed might<br /> +Careering, careless of the right!<br /> +Their leader he who sternly bade<br /> +Freedom fall; and glory fade,<br /> +The scourge of nations ripe for ruin,<br /> +Planning oft their own undoing!<br /> +But who in yonder swarming host<br /> +Locust-like from coast to coast,<br /> +Reluctant move, an alien few,<br /> +Sullen, fierce, of sombre hue,<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +Who, forced unhallow'd arms to bear,<br /> +Mutter to the moaning air,<br /> +Whose curses on the welkin cast<br /> +Edge the keen and icy blast!<br /> +Iberia, sorrow bade thee nurse<br /> +Those who now the tyrant curse,<br /> +Whose wrongs for vengeance cry aloud!<br /> +Lo, the coming of a cloud!<br /> +To burst in wrath, and sweep away<br /> +Light as chaff the firm array!<br /> +To rack with pain, or lull to rest<br /> +Both oppressor and oppress'd.<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><span class="smcap">Antistrophe</span>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is it the wind from tower to tower</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Low-murmuring at midnight hour?</span><br /> +Athwart the darkness light is stealing,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Portentous, red with unrelenting ire,</span><br /> +Inhuman deeds, and secrets dark revealing!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ye guilty, who may quench the kindled fire!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Fall, city of the Czars, to rise</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ennobled by self-sacrifice,</span><br /> +Than tower and temple higher and more holy!<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The wilful king appointed o'er mankind</span><br /> +To plague the lofty heart, and prove the lowly,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Is fled!—Avenger, mount the chariot of the wind!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Be thine, to guide the rapid scythe,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To blind with snow the frozen sun,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Against th' invader doomed to writhe,</span><br /> +To rouse the Tartar, Russ, and Hun!<br /> +Bid terror to the battle ride!<br /> +Indignant honour, burning shame,<br /> +Revenge, and hate, and patriotic pride!<br /> +But not the quick unerring aim<br /> +Of volley'd thunder winged with flame,<br /> +Nor famine keener than the bird of prey,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Nor death—avail the hard of heart to tame!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Blow wind, and pierce the dire array,</span><br /> +Flung, drifted by thy breath, athwart the frozen way!<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><span class="smcap">Epode</span>.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Before the blast as flakes of snow</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Drive blindly, reeling to and fro,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or down the river black and deep</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Melt—so the mighty sink to sleep!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Like Asshur, never more to boast!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Or Pharaoh, sunk with all his host!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So perish who would trample down</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The rights of freedom, for renown!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So fall, who born and nurtured free</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Adore the proud on bended knee!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Roll, Beresina, 'neath the bridge</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Of death! rise Belgium's fatal ridge!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Rise, lonely rock in a wide ocean,</span><br /> +To curb each haughty mad emotion!<br /> +To prove, while force and genius fail,<br /> +That truth is great, and will prevail!<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The hour is coming—seize the hour!</span><br /> +Divide the spoil, the prey devour!<br /> +Howl o'er the dead and dying, cry<br /> +All ye that raven earth and sky!<br /> +With beak and talon rend the prey,<br /> +Track carnage on her gory way,<br /> +To chide o'er many a gleamy bone<br /> +The moon, or with the wind to moan!<br /> +Benumb'd with cold, by torture wrung,<br /> +To winter leave the famine-clung,<br /> +O thou for whom they toil and bleed,<br /> +Deserted in their utmost need!<br /> +Hear, hear them faithful unto death<br /> +Invoke thee with the fleeting breath,<br /> +And feel (for human still thou art)<br /> +Ruth touch that adamantine heart!</span><br /> +Survive the storm and battle-shock,<br /> +To linger on th' Atlantic rock!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">From ghastly dream, from death-like trance</span><br /> +Awake to woe, devoted France!<br /> +To care and trouble, toil and pain,<br /> +Till glory be acknowledged vain,<br /> +And martial pomp a mere parade,<br /> +And war, the bravo's bloody trade!<br /> +A beacon o'er the tide of time<br /> +Be thou, to point the wreck of crime!<br /> +The spoiler spoil'd, from empire hurl'd,<br /> +The dread and pity of the world!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">O then, by tribulation tried,</span><br /> +Abjuring envy, hate, and pride,<br /> +Warn'd of the dying hour foretold<br /> +Of earth and heaven together roll'd,<br /> +Revering each prophetic sign<br /> +Of judgment and of love divine,<br /> +Bow down, and hide thee in the dust,<br /> +And own the retribution just;<br /> +So may contrition, prayer, and praise,<br /> +Preserve thee in the latter days!<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><span class="smcap">E. Peel</span>.</span></td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p> +<h3>A RAMBLE IN MONTENEGRO.</h3> + +<p>Few nations of Europe have been less known than the Montenegrians, and +the name even of their country is seldom found on maps.[<a name="f6.1" id="f6.1" href="#f6">6</a>] Surrounded +by great empires, they have always preserved the independence of their +rugged mountains, and have even succeeded in wresting several rich +plains from the sway of Turkey. With this power hostilities seldom +cease; but such is the system with which her resources are managed, +that while the Montenegrians are at peace with one pasha, they are +enabled to concentrate their force against another—and all the while +the Sublime Porte does not condescend to interfere. Not many years +ago, they possessed the reputation of being a horde of robbers; and, +in all probability, the pilgrim who ventured among them would have +returned, if at all, as shirtless as themselves. But the breath of the +spirit of the age, though faintly wafted to their mountains, has +softened something of their character, without destroying in the least +their independence or nationality. Bold, hardy, and free, ready and +eager for the foray and the fray, a stranger is now as safe among them +as in any part of her Majesty's kingdom.</p> + +<p>Whoever wishes to make the acquaintance of this primitive people, will +do well to embark on board the Austrian Lloyd's Company's steamer from +Trieste to Cattaro. They will be well accommodated, at reasonable +charges, and have an opportunity of seeing the principal towns of +Dalmatia, a country little frequented by travellers. Such was the case +with ourselves, (an English lady and gentleman,) who quitted Trieste +on the 5th of November 1843. The voyage commenced pleasantly, and we +had the good-luck to have the ladies' cabin to ourselves. The captain +was a very gentlemanlike person, the steward attentive, and the +passengers full of politeness. Zara, the capital of Dalmatia, where we +stopped a day and a night, is a walled town of moderate extent, said +to contain 8000 inhabitants. It possesses some antiquities. Over the +gates of this, and all other of the Dalmatian seaports, the Lions of +Saint Mark yet remain. It is best known for the excellence of its +<i>rosoglio</i>. The next town we arrived at was Sebenico, now much +decayed, and Spalatro, the most interesting of all, where the badness +of the weather, during the short time we stayed, prevented our landing +to see the extensive Roman remains. After anchoring off Curzola for a +night, we came to Ragusa, where we stopped two days. At Zara and +Sebenico we had <ins class="correction" title="Original reads 'opportunites'">opportunities</ins> of seeing the Morlaccian race. These are +the rural inhabitants of Dalmatia, speaking a Sclavonic dialect, while +in the towns they pride themselves on their Venetian origin and +language. Amongst these peasants were the noblest specimens of the +human kind I have ever seen. Of stature almost gigantic, and of the +amplest development of chest, their symmetry of limb and elasticity of +step would have called forth notice in a Scottish Highlander. Nor +could a somewhat manifest omission to cares of the toilet disguise +complexion and features almost faultless, and in which an expression +of frankness and good-nature left one nothing to fear from their armed +numbers. I speak not of a few among a crowd, but of nearly all I saw. +It was from amongst these that the French, during their occupation, +chose their finest grenadiers; but at present, in consequence of the +scantiness of the population, the humanity of the Austrian government +has suspended all conscription. Still it is possible, that, in the +hour of danger, Austria might profit more from the devoted <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>loyalty of +this armed and stalwart peasantry, than if her ranks were filled with +its forced recruits. Their dress consists of a coarse brown jacket, +and a waistcoat of red cloth, both ornamented on the edges, and made +to sit close on the shoulders, without any collar, and which +advantageously display their well put on head and neck. They wear a +small red skull-cap, round at top; but, when married, they usually +surround this with a white turban. Their pantaloons are of blue, and +fit close from the knee to the ankle, and below they wear the +<i>opunka</i>—a species of sandal, made of sheepskin, and bound with +thongs, which, as may be seen from their elastic step and upright +carriage, are well fitted to their country; round their waist is a red +sash, and in front a leather belt, in which is placed a yataghan and a +smaller knife, and exhibiting usually the handsome pommels of silver +or brass-mounted pistols. Over all is a long brown cloak, open in +front, and fastening over the chest, forming a dress which, with their +free and martial bearing, gives them the appearance of ready-made +soldiers. The women are, comparatively, inferior to the men; but their +countenances are cheerful, and a white napkin gracefully put on the +head, had a very classical appearance. For the rest, they wore a +coarse shirt—over that a coarser, without arms, neither coming much +below the knee—a party-coloured apron and stockings, with opunkas, +like the men. Near Zara is a small colony of Albanians, who still +retain their national manners and dress, though settled time out of +mind.</p> + +<p>Ragusa—of old a republic, with its doge and senate—is a city whose +glory has departed. This little state—consisting of the town, the +promontory of Sabioncello, the island of Melida, with a few smaller +ones—numbering about forty thousand inhabitants, had never been +subject by Venice, and was governed on the most aristocratic +principles. At the time of the late war, the inhabitants of the city +owned about four hundred large vessels—and observing the profiting by +neutrality, they traded every where, and acquired great wealth. But +they were not destined to escape the storm which overthrew so many +mightier states. In 1809 they became compulsory allies of the French. +Their nominal independence lasted about two years longer. During the +time the French occupied it, the city was attacked by the combined +forces of the Russians and Montenegrians; the former by sea, while the +latter conducted the operations on land. Luckily they failed to take +it; but they burned and destroyed, without exception, every one of the +numerous villas by which it was surrounded. Since the loss of her +independence, the trade of Ragusa has ceased, and her wealth has +departed; while many of her once haughty nobility have no other +subsistence than a scanty pension, which the bounty of the government +affords them. The town is interesting, and some of its buildings +ancient and peculiar, though hardly to be called handsome—the scale +being small. Of the country houses desolated by the Montenegrians, not +one in twenty has been repaired; and they remain roofless and +blackened, a lasting memorial of the ferocity of that people. The +neighbourhood is beautiful, and appears more so after the stony +desolation which the rest of Dalmatia exhibits. Though the houses +still remain in ruins, the gardens continue to be cultivated. Olives, +vines, figs, and carruba trees grow in them, and the tops of the hills +are covered with stone pines and delightful evergreens, of heaths, +junipers, cypress, and other plants, which at home we coax to grow in +our greenhouses.</p> + +<p>Quitting Ragusa, after having been once driven back by the badness of +the weather, we at length entered the Bocca of Cattaro, after a +passage of about nine hours. Both in its general and immediate +position, few spots can be imagined so cut off from the rest of the +world as Cattaro. Standing close on the sea, with stupendous mountains +overhanging it on each side, it is deprived even of the light of the +sun for the greater part of the day; and, towards the end of +November—this is no boon. By land the Dalmatian coast-road (the only +one, I believe, in the country) passes through it, but it would prove +indifferent, I should think, to any but the pedestrian; and there is +also the mountain-path, of three hours' ascent,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> which leads into +Montenegro, and issues up from the gates of the town in a zigzag form, +till it appears lost in the clouds. Any one wishing to quit Cattaro, +has indeed, like the country waiter in England, but "three desperate +alternatives." He must wait for the next steamer, a whole month if in +winter, and return the way he came. Or he may attempt to pass through +Albania to Greece or the islands, which would in all likelihood prove +the last attempt he would ever make. Or he may hire one of the country +<i>trabacolos</i> to take him where he likes. They are neither fast in +their sailing nor luxurious in their accommodation—the price being +any thing but cheap. In one thing the traveller has no difficulty, +which is to discover the first hotel, as their number is strictly +limited. Consequently in about half an hour, during which the steamer +had taken her departure, we found ourselves the inmates of the +principal <i>salon</i> in the Locanda della Corona. It is ever a comfort, +when expectation is not at its highest, to find things better; and +happy the mind that seeks it!</p> + +<p>The house was not very dirty, the landlady was full of kindness, and +not destitute of good looks. After her first paroxysms of welcome and +surprise had passed, then succeeded admiration, then a general +presentation to all friends and relations of the family that could be +summoned on a short notice, with many fervent blessings and prayers +for our welfare, and at length, which pleased us as much as any thing, +a very eatable dinner. During that day, and part of the ensuing week, +I improved my acquaintance with Cattaro—an acquaintance which, before +final separation, became very intimate indeed. It contains several +small squares or places, with some churches and other public +buildings. There is a respectable <i>café</i>, which is frequented by the +officers of the garrison, and on the whole it is rather a neat little +town. The population may be about three thousand. It is fortified, +having two gates to the land and one to the sea. Perched above, at a +great height, is the castle, said to be of considerable strength. In +the late war Cattaro was taken from the French by Sir William Hoste, +Bart., and afterwards garrisoned by the <i>Vladika</i> of Montenegro, since +which time an Englishman has hardly been seen by the people within +their gates. Consequently their ideas of robbing the stranger are +faint and barbarous; here, as throughout Dalmatia, should you give a +man money, and the sum be not even more than twice the value of the +obligation, the poor ignoramus is delighted, and thanks and blesses +you most fervently. The climate of Cattaro is not considered healthy. +The inhabitants die of consumption in the winter, and fever in the +summer, and they generally have a sickly appearance. There are smart +silversmith shops, and many ornaments are wrought with much neatness. +There are several also devoted to the sale of arms, as the +Montenegrians here buy and repair the principal weapons they use. +Pistols, guns, and yataghans are mounted in silver and +mother-of-pearl, coral and other stones, with skill and taste. The +population are as remote in appearance from that of any town in +western Europe, as in the most primitive part of the East. The +town's-people wear a black jacket of cloth or velvet, with silver +basket buttons, a small cap, and wide drawers of the same cloth, with +black stockings or high boots, and a red sash. The costumes of some of +the villages along the shores of the Bocca are very pretty. The women +from Dulcinea wear a body petticoat and jacket of scarlet, with silver +buttons and buckles, and a white covering tastefully enfolding the +head and shoulders. The peasantry to the south wear the Montenegrian +dress; the poorer ones, in extreme scantiness. These profess, like +that people, the tenets of the Greek church, and in appearance and +dialect do not differ from them. A bolder look, however, and an air of +independence, usually mark the Montenegrian. Between Cattaro and +Montenegro there is no quarantine or restriction of intercourse. +Without the latter the former would cease to exist—without the former +life would be burdensome in Montenegro. Three times a-week a bazar is +held outside each of the land gates, to which the Montenegrians +descend, themselves loaded with arms and independence, and their women +and mules with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> richest products of their country. Of these, +mutton hams of peculiar excellence, potatoes that cannot be imitated +in these parts, salt fish from the lake of Scutari, (to be caught, I +fear, no more,) a root which looks yellow, and dyes to match, with +hides, poultry, and pigs, form the principal. One of the chief +articles which they seek is salt, with which some of the above +luxuries are compounded. This being a government monopoly, is sold at +the office in the town, and an animated scene takes place on its +opening, each striving to be served first, and, as a matter of course, +all speaking at once.</p> + +<p>Having in a few days almost exhausted the varieties of Cattaro, and +the weather assuming a more favourable aspect, it became time to +execute our intended journey up the mountain. Times were stirring in +Montenegro. The nation was at war with two pashas, and the Vladika had +taken the field in person. Rumours were numerous; we could not have +come at a better time, and our trip promised to be one of interest. +His highness's postmaster, a gigantic warrior,[<a name="f7.1" id="f7.1" href="#f7">7</a>] waited on us to +furnish mules and guides. Cesarea Petrarca, gentleman, of Cattaro, +hairdresser, auctioneer, and appraiser, ex-courier, formerly <i>chef de +cuisine</i> to the Vladika—an "<i>homme capable</i>," as he not unaptly +styled himself, attended us to cook and interpret; and we started for +Cettigna on the 17th of November, about nine o'clock. I may here say a +few words concerning the state of politics then existing in +Montenegro. For the last half century or more, under the auspices of +the late revered bishop, so highly sainted in soul,[<a name="f8.1" id="f8.1" href="#f8">8</a>] and so +beautifully preserved in body, the Montenegrians, backed secretly by +an influential power in the north, have been pursuing a system of +territorial encroachment as well as internal improvement. Anciently +their domain consisted of but a range of gloomy and barren rocks, +which would alike oppose the footsteps and extinguish the hopes of the +invader; since which various fertile <i>pianuras</i> have been gained on +the side of Herzigovina and Bosnia. In 1781 Kara Mahmoot, hereditary +bey of Scutari, marched with a great army into Montenegro. Advancing +towards Cettigna, he was attacked in a narrow defile by the Vladika. +This was a great day for Montenegro. The Albanians were utterly +routed, and Black Mahmoot, being taken prisoner, surrendered his glory +and his head to his priestly conqueror, and it remains there among the +trophies of the Episcopal dwelling. The present Vladika is not +unworthy of his martial uncle. He is truly the flower of the house of +Petrowitch. On his first arrival from St Petersburg to assume the +government, his appearance was that of a Frank[<a name="f9.1" id="f9.1" href="#f9">9</a>] gentleman, and his +habits those of a priest; but he discovered before long that the dress +of his native mountains better became his manly form, while the +troubles in which his state was so constantly engaged, soon made him +exchange the crosier for the sword, and become as ardent a warrior as +his predecessor. Ever since the beginning of the summer, war had been +waged with Osman Pasha of Mostar, concerning a disputed territory. On +one occasion the opposed forces were in sight for a week. The +Montenegrians consisted of seven thousand foot—the Turks (I write +according to my information) of forty thousand horse. (!) Every day +they fought, sometimes for two, sometimes four hours and upwards, as +fancy dictated. About fifty persons had been more or less injured in +this pastime, but their ardour was rather increasing than diminishing, +when the pasha of Scutari, without notice or warning, seized on the +islands of Vranina and Lessandro, at the head of the lake of Scutari. +The Montenegrians had there a post of about twenty men, but they were +overpowered, several killed, and the rest sent captive to Scutari. +Not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> satisfied with this, he fortified Lessandro in such a manner that +no Montenegrian could fish in the lake with any kind of pleasure or +comfort. This was a vital blow. Visions of the market of Cattaro rose +before the eyes of the nation. Peace with Osman Pasha was concluded at +any sacrifice, and the Vladika instantly hastened to concentrate his +energies toward the recovery of the lost islands.</p> + +<p>Our party consisted of ourselves and two mules, one being for the +luggage—Cesarea Petrarca, in the full pride of office, and armed for +our protection with a very small sword and a very small gun—a woman +who had charge of the mules—and Spiro Martinowitch, an old and +respectable Montenegrian, with Milo his son, to act as guides. We +began the ascent about ten o'clock. Close outside the walls was +pointed out a village, the residence of a race of valiant butchers, +who have ever been at feud with the Montenegrians, by whom their +numbers have been much reduced. A tale was related of three having +defended themselves against four hundred of the enemy. After following +the steep but otherwise good road for about two hours, we arrived at a +stone with different species of eagles on two sides,[<a name="f10.1" id="f10.1" href="#f10">10</a>] which marks +the boundary of the respective territories. The road instantly +degenerates into an indifferent mule-track. It took another hour to +gain the principal ascent, then, pursuing our way along the high land, +we reached a small hamlet, where we stopped a few minutes to comfort +ourselves with what could be procured. The path from hence to Cettigna +passes over a country which, at any season, must appear barren and +inhospitable. The peaks of the highest mountains in Montenegro rise +immediately above it. The ground was now covered with about an inch of +snow, and the air extremely cold. A few stunted bushes of beech +underwood, which serves for fuel, seemed to be the only vegetation. +Every thing else, grey rocks, sharp and rugged, to the smallest +fragment. We passed on our way the village of Negusi, the paternal +seat of the family of Petrowitch. Here the present Vladika was born, +in a mansion which was pointed out to us. It is a long-shaped hut, +built of loose stones, without windows or upper story. A somewhat +better dwelling is the property of the bishop's uncle, who governs the +village and adjacent district. Passing on by the hamlets of Bayitzi +and Donikrai, we arrived at the Episcopal residence about half-past +five in the evening, and immediately took up our quarters in the first +hotel. I will not say that the decorations of the chief apartment were +in the highest style of magnificence; but the bed was clean, and to +find any thing clean in these parts may be considered a victory +gained. Our hostess was from Cattaro, the seat of every refinement to +the ideas of a Montenegrian; and our host was a kind civil man, +speaking both French and Italian, and had been formerly engaged in the +great war. For the present he found it convenient to remain in +Montenegro, having been lately concerned in an "unfortunate affair" +near Budua, where certain tenements were harried and burned. Cattaro, +therefore, and its delights, were denied him for the present; but it +was hoped that the temporary bad odour would soon pass away. The +village was nearly deserted; few remained that night in Cettigna but +ancient men. The Vladika was on and away. He had departed that +morning, his brother remaining to take charge of the place. To-morrow +the assault of the fortress was to commence, or, some said, it had +already begun. We felt we had arrived at a good moment, and were +prepared to hasten in the morning to the scene of action, thirsting +with excitement. It was thought not unlikely that a battle might take +place. The evening was cold and wet, and we therefore took up our +position over the kitchen fire. In these regions this is placed in the +middle of the room, and the smoke gets out how it can, or not at all. +A peculiar sensation in the eyes will present itself to the mind as +the result of such an arrangement. The kitchen, however, besides being +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>the warmest, was by far the gayest place. Here we watched our dinner +cooked, and ate it afterwards; heard of wars and rumours of wars; +listened to heroic ballads, chanted by a warrior, and accompanied by a +species of one-stringed fiddle; and made the acquaintance of two very +fashionable young men. One was the bishop's nephew, a handsome lad +about seventeen, who was, on account of his youth, very shy and +modest, and acted as <i>cavaliero servente</i> to the kitchen-maid. The +other was a remarkably good-looking and well-dressed young man, whom I +had observed on entering the place, and set down to be somebody. He +was, alas! but a tailor from Bosnia, who had come on a speculation to +Cettigna. A barren profession his, where fashions remain the same +summer and winter, and a suit lasts till it drops off. He was an +accomplished musician, as well, on the one-stringed instrument; +boasted of a white pocket-handkerchief, and his Italian, added to our +Servian, made up about twelve words in common; so that the evening +passed very sociably, and we retired to rest full of hope for the +morrow. But when that morrow came, one melancholy prospect of rain and +mist presented itself. The white clouds hung on the mountain-tops +immediately above. Not a breath of wind was stirring, and the rain +descended in torrents. There seemed not a chance of its clearing, nor +did it during the whole day. It was not, therefore, considered prudent +to proceed, where no bed was to be found, and where the chance of even +shelter was any thing but certain. Add to which, my companion in arms +was taken with a violent cold; so we felt obliged to restrain our +military ardour for one day, and proceeded to seek such recreation as +the metropolis afforded. Cettigna, the seat of the government of +Montenegro, and residence of the Vladika, is yet a city of no great +magnitude. It is situated prettily enough on a little plain, around +which the rocky summits of the mountains rise in the form of an +amphitheatre; not to any great height, however—the elevation of the +plain itself being very great. The most ancient building, indeed the +only one which seems not to have been erected within these few years, +is the monastery. This was till very lately the residence of the +Vladika and his predecessors, and it was here the King of Saxony +lodged when he visited Montenegro in 1836.[<a name="f11.1" id="f11.1" href="#f11">11</a>] It is situated on the +side of the rocks which bound the plain, and consists of several +buildings of different periods joined together. The oldest has two +rows of arched passages, or cloisters, in front, one above the other. +Behind the convent, a wall runs up the hill, and encloses a small +circuit of rocky ground. The whole is in a very uncertain state of +repair. On the summit of a small rock immediately above, is a round +tower, built apparently for ornament at no very ancient date, but +never finished or roofed. It does not owe its decorations to the hand +of the architect. They are of a rarer kind. From the ends of poles +fastened into the top of the wall, two or three dozen heads, in all +stages of decay, overlook the residence of a Christian bishop. These +are Turks or Albanians who have fallen in different encounters, or +possibly in cold blood, as the Montenegrians never spare the life of a +prisoner. It was with somewhat doubtful feelings that I contemplated +these trophies. Around, the earth was strewed with skulls and other +relics of humanity. It was said that no head had been put up for +nearly two years. Certain it is, that the Lord Vladika did <i>not</i> cause +to be placed there the heads of eighteen Turkish commissioners, who, +in the August previous, entered Montenegro to discuss a boundary +question. But why should I tell tales? I was hospitably received, and +treated, me and mine, with civility and kindness, not only by the +Vladika, but by every individual I met, and returned with my head +undisturbed by the trip. Some of the countenances still bore traces of +good looks, though withered by the sun and storm of years. It was a +severe test for beauty; but the head <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>of one young man certainly stood +the trial. Fine features, of a cast frequently seen towards the north +of Albania, and a set of the best teeth, (this is very general,) +showed that he might have once been more prosperous in love than he +proved to be in war. I thought of a relic, and took up a skull, the +best I could find, but it was full of red earth, and seemed damp and +unpleasant; so I put it down again. I next discovered a beautiful +tooth; this would have surpassed the former in elegance and +convenience, but I fancied it not either, and came away, trusting to +my mind for a remembrance of the spot. From hence I made a sketch of +the present residence of the bishop, the second among the remarkable +edifices of Cettigna and its environs. It was built within these five +years, under the auspices of no less than my trusty attendant +Petrarca. The style is not, strictly speaking, imposing. Perhaps this +arose from suggestions of economy, or possibly from the mind of the +architect being at that moment unprepared with any other. Simplicity +in design and execution characterize it throughout. It consists of a +long single building of one low story, containing two rows of about +twenty windows on each side. There is a door in the middle, and at +each end a small wing placed crosswise, and a very little higher than +the rest, containing a window above and a door below. Both before and +behind, a large court is enclosed by a low wall of loose stones, with +little turrets at the corners, and two doorways in the principal. In +the front court are some old brass and iron cannon, lying +dismounted—trophies of Turkish war. Behind is an attempted kitchen +garden. The remainder of Cettigna is small, hardly worth +mentioning—six or seven houses with an upper floor, and about twice +as many ordinary huts. This forms the metropolis of Montenegro. But +small as it is, I doubt if there be a bigger village in the country, +the population, though sufficiently numerous, dwelling in small +scattered hamlets. The better houses act as hostelries when called on, +which may be the case when Parliament is sitting; but apart from the +bishop's officials and retainers, the place does not probably contain +a hundred souls. It being now noon, and the rain unabated, we +determined to see all the sights of the city. His highness's residence +was first visited. It contains the Chamber of Deputies, a printing +establishment, and various apartments for the accommodation of friends +and relatives. Entering one of these we found the Vladika's brother, +whom I have previously alluded to, and had the honour of a +presentation. He is a very ordinary-looking personage; and, as the +powers of language were wanting to express our feelings, we soon took +leave. The bishop's rooms for public and private reception, consist of +a billiard-room no bigger than is necessary for the due performance of +the game, at which he is a great adept, a small anteroom and bedroom. +His valet and chamberlain, a well-dressed Montenegrian, did the +honours. In the billiard-room the walls are hung with arms, though +some of these were now absent on service. I observed some fine Turkish +swords, some of an ancient date, presents to different Vladikas; some +Albanian daggers, straight, with a triangular blade, resembling the +ancient Venetian <i>misericordes</i>; and a handsomely mounted and antique +Servian sword, the blade with the wolf-mark, so well known in the +Highlands and other parts of Europe. There were some handsome +fire-arms; and, among others, a splendid pipe lately presented by +Osman Pasha of Mostar. In the anteroom I remarked with pleasure a +small three-legged stand, with a basin and towel; and I have heard +that other contrivances for the purification of the Episcopal person +are not wanting, though no such met my eye. In the bedroom, where the +odour of tobacco still remained unmitigated, was a cabinet, which, +when opened, displayed objects well worthy the attention of the next +pasha who may visit Cettigna. Russian orders and snuff-boxes +uncountable, set in the choicest brilliants; presents from the +Emperors of Austria of no mean value; a remembrance or two of the King +of Saxony, &c. &c. All these were opened by the <i>cameriere</i> to our +free inspection; but not for this, nor the trouble we afterwards gave +him when exhibiting the sacer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>dotal robes, keeping him above half the +day, would he accept the smallest remuneration. This completed the +public rooms, (his highness is reported on occasions to give grand +entertainments, but the whereabouts was not manifest,) and we +proceeded to the ancient convent. This, formerly the Episcopal +dwelling, is still the residence of the chief officials attached to +the Vladika. The first among these is the vicar—(his other avocations +having only permitted the Vladika to officiate on two occasions)—"no +baron or squire or knight of the shire," &c. Truly on this occasion +the holy father had not been unmindful of himself; and, considering +the early hour and dreary state of the weather; was as jovial as the +heart could desire. A peculiar leer and frequent ebullitions of +laughter, from mysterious causes, showed the frame of mind he was in. +After coffee, and a glass of aniseed brandy, we viewed his priestly +robes, which were of cloth of gold and very handsome. We then +proceeded to make the acquaintance of the other officials, going the +round of the convent. We were most cordially received; indeed, we +appeared to be a godsend to these poor people. There was a Dalmatian +schoolmaster, a very intelligent young man, who superintended the +branch of national education; his highness's secretary, an Italian; +and a woman from Cattaro, the wife of another now absent at the camp, +and the only example of female aristocracy in Montenegro. At the +apartment of each of the inmates, coffee, invariably excellent, and +glasses of brandy, were handed round. These the holy personage in our +company always emptied to the uttermost, and then would romp and +wrestle with the schoolmaster, and perform all kinds of frolics. He +was a Hungarian by birth. When our German or his Italian respectively +failed, then Latin assisted our communications; and, what with the wet +weather and the coffee, we all became very sociable and chatty. After +an hour or two so spent, we took our way to the chapel. It is very +small; not capable, I should say, of accommodating above twenty or +thirty persons. There, embalmed, are the remains of the late Vladika. +The vicar removed the lid of the coffin, and he there appeared attired +in full canonicals. His face, however, was hidden, and the covering +was not removed. The limbs appeared to be much shrunk. The holy man +took the hand of the deceased, and, kissing it with the most solemn +devotion, burst into a wild laugh, and closed the lid. A small trifle +<i>pro salute animæ</i> was expected in a box adjoining it. We next went to +the robe-room, passing along a series of mouldy and rat-eaten floors +to a small room, such as might be found in a dilapidated stable-loft; +there, from old dingy boxes, were drawn forth such garments as created +astonishment—the richest damask and cloth of gold of all +colours—their weight enormous—so massive that they would almost +stand alone. I have never seen any thing so splendid; and the effect +of such upon the fine form of the Vladika must be worth beholding. In +another chest were deposited the crowns of different Vladikas. They +are of a shape resembling the ancient Russian diadem, being not of the +form of any kind of coronet, but a cap all covered or entire, globular +at top, and diminishing towards where they fit the head. Perhaps there +were half a dozen or more. They were richly ornamented with precious +stones—the present Vladika's the most so. I understand they are +presents from St Petersburg. By nine next morning the rain had +somewhat cleared, and the weather was mild and promising. We started, +therefore, hoping that night to reach the quarters of the Vladika, +though no one could speak positively to the place. We made some +enquiries as to the chance of finding shelter, as the nights were +singularly cold; but it was of course apparent that time alone could +decide. None of our friends from the monastery, who had been so +warlike the day before, made their appearance; so we started without +any addition to our party. The road was nearly all on the descent, and +usually so stony and rough as to make riding the mule a matter of +difficulty. We passed by Dobro Skorsello, one of the richest communes +of Montenegro; there figs, vines, and olives are grown: a wild species +of mulberry occurs, and large trees of it frequently appeared before a +hut or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> hamlet. These are wide-spreading and ancient, but not tall. +This district furnishes seven thousand fighting men. Here we met the +wife of one of the principal senators among a troop of females with +bundles of wood upon their head. We now had the first intelligence +from the camp. Descending into a little plain we met about two hundred +men returning to celebrate a village fête, as their services were not +just then required. They passed in single file; wild, active-looking +fellows they certainly were. In about half an hour after, we +encountered forty or fifty others. These were peculiarly warm in their +friendship, and slapped me so hard on the back that it required my +utmost force to return the compliment with any thing like cordiality. +They took it into their heads that I was a certain long-expected +bombardier who was to direct their artillery against Lessandro, and +they loaded me with compliments and good wishes. I almost, at the +moment, regretted my want of knowledge in the art. About one o'clock +we descended upon the Nariako river, then a rapid clear green stream, +which conducts the torrents of the upper mountains to the lake of +Scutari; and, in another hour, reached the village of that name, which +is known also by the Italian one of Fiumara. We trusted here to +procuring a boat which would convey us the remainder of the journey; +but the natives of this free country are seldom in a hurry, and in +fact it was necessary that we should be made popular idols for a +certain space; nor had we the means of keeping each other in +countenance. I was hurried off, accompanied by Petrarca, to the house +of the captain of the district, a senator, I understood, and eminently +brave; while my unfortunate companion, without any one to help, was +taken possession of by a lady of rank, a Cattarese by birth, but who +had nearly forgotten her native tongue, and in a short time was +surrounded by all the females and olive branches of the place. The +usual brandy, with coffee and pipes, was served to our party. The +houses, or little dirty huts rather, have in front a small balcony +covered at top, and raised about four or five feet from the ground; +here Spiro, Petrarca, and myself were seated, with my host and several +others. While the lady of the house brought in the pipes and +refreshments, I made some very sensible observations, which Petrarca +clothed in Servian, and the replies seemed in every way equal; +notwithstanding, in about an hour the liveliness of the scene began +somewhat to wear off, and I took the first opportunity of hastening to +rescue the other sufferer. Here I discovered the object of public +attention seated on a bench with her host and hostess, one on each +knee as it were, and the room thronged with spectators; women and +children were squatted or perched on every conceivable spot. The +harmony of the party had, however, undergone for a moment a trifling +disorder; for, while all the rest had been full of compliment and +courtesy, one elderly lady had thought proper to express herself in a +manner contradictory to the general feeling, and in the strongest +terms, going even the length of shaking her fist at the occupant of +the post of honour. She was, however, bundled out most +unceremoniously, neck and crop, as the phrase is. After further +delays, and declining a most uninviting dormitory, a boat was got +ready; four warriors were in her, and we departed amid the cheers of +the population and a promiscuous discharge of fire-arms. This was +warmly responded to by our party; nor did I much regret when these +demonstrations had ceased, as a Montenegrian considers it quite +etiquette to discharge his heavy-loaded piece any where in the +immediate vicinity of the head, so long as the muzzle just clears the +honoured individual. In a few minutes we were gliding down the +beautiful stream. The absence of all wild animals is peculiarly +observable in the mountains. A woodcock or red-legged partridge are +occasionally seen; but few quadrupeds are met with, and the larger and +fiercer kinds are rarely known to occur. This deficiency, however, in +the general zoology, is amply compensated by the birds which frequent +the Fiumara river. As we proceeded, muffled up in the bottom of the +boat, for it was very cold, the fitful exertions of our warlike crew +disturbed quantities of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> aquatic birds. The river widened greatly, the +mountain banks disappearing, till at length the shores became obscure +in the distance, and thus it imperceptibly enters and forms the lake +of Scutari. Cormorants and ducks passed over in flocks; noble herons +got up screaming on every side. One of these was the milk-white +aigrette; superior in size to the common heron. The kingfishers had a +beautiful appearance. I never saw this bird elsewhere in such +multitudes. I did not request any of my crew to try their skill, as I +had had enough of firing for the time being, nor did I take a fancy to +do so myself. The large bore and light metal of their arms, added to +the weight of the charge, spoke of a recoil any thing but pleasing, +and which I hear usually takes place. Next day, however, I asked the +captain of the boat to show me a shot; he took aim at a diver which +kept appearing a-head; he fired when nothing but the neck was visible +above water, and the ball completely divided it, the head barely +hanging by a bit of skin. The bird was distant about fifty yards, and +the boat moving, while he stood on the bow. At some longer shots he +was not so successful. We passed a village at a small distance, and +lay on our oars to hear the news. Most of the people were absent; but +one, a great man, was seated on the hut-top, with a few idlers round +him. This was the chief president of the senate—the speaker of the +house, in short; and undoubtedly, if stentorian lungs are of any use +for that office in a Montenegrian parliament, he was most amply +qualified. For twenty minutes this eminent man conversed with us—the +distance at first being about a quarter of a mile, and probably it +might be three miles or more before he was finally out of hearing. The +Turkish fortress of Dzabiack now appeared perched on a steep isolated +hill rising from the marsh. It seemed, as we passed it about two miles +off, to be in a very dilapidated condition. The Montenegrians, +however, had at present no designs upon it; and its garrison +maintained a peaceful neutrality. They have on several occasions +destroyed this fortress, which has been occupied again by the Turks. +It gives then little annoyance, being distant, I should think, five +miles from the head of the lake. All was now water, but the principal +channels above were passable, the rest being overgrown with weeds. At +several of these, long consultations occurred as to our best route. It +began to rain a little, and the place of our destination seemed +doubtful. At length we emerged on the broad beautiful lake, and our +progress was easy. We soon came in sight of the beleaguered island and +fortress of Lessandro. The cannonade, which we had heard during the +earlier part of the day, had long ceased, and all seemed quiet. It was +still twilight, but the place to which our people had determined on +going, lay beyond the foot of a mountain which projected to a nearer +approach with the island. This was the very mountain on the top of +which the Vladika had placed his batteries. They considered it +prudent, therefore, to wait till dark, before passing within +point-blank range of the enemy's guns. We, therefore, hauled the boat +up, and waited under lee of the point. As soon as the light had +failed, we moved forward, passing stealthily along the shore to within +about three hundred yards of the fort. The previous garrulity of our +party was now hushed, and they exhibited the most laudable prudence. I +observed, however, that they had all their guns cocked and ready, as +if they intended to have returned any compliment from the fortress; +but no such contingency was at hand. The Albanians were engaged in +chanting martial choruses, possibly to maintain their own valour as +well as dismay their opponents, and show what excellent health and +spirits they possessed after the two days' siege. At any rate, they +made too much noise to hear any thing but themselves. As we went along +shore, we were several times challenged by those on the look-out, and +long explanations passed in low yet distinct tones. At length the +danger was passed, and we went a-head for about two miles along the +lake; then, turning off up a deep sluggish stream, we came in sight of +our quarters. A large fire blazed in the principal of three huts, and +by its light numerous persons were seen<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> around it. Landing with our +baggage and equipage, we soon joined the circle; about a dozen +warriors were here assembled. They were very civil to us, and glad to +see our party. They gave us the best place at the fire, where, +spreading our plaids, we were soon occupied with such dainties as the +place or our own providence supplied. When it came to be bed-time, the +fighting part of the community good-naturedly suffered themselves to +be persuaded to go to the other end of the room, by which means we +were enabled to lie down by the fire. There they rolled themselves up, +and, in the shortest possible time, were in a state of oblivion. I may +observe that the people in general, men or women, have seldom any +beds. They lie down any where on the floor, ensconced in a capote or +cloak, removing perhaps their opunkas, but scarcely ever any other +garment. We should have been pretty comfortable but for the minute +hosts that peopled the apartment. Late at night, too, the extreme cold +compelled several parties to seek refuge by the fire who had no right +or little thereto—as the house-cat and her two kittens; she would +take no denial, however often repelled. Whenever one awoke, there she +would be with her interesting offspring close nestled under one's +chin. The family dog, too, suffered severely from cold; he was, as +often as he entered, kicked out by his master in a way that did the +heart good; and his murmurs of complaint and resentment would last for +a full ten minutes. But the door would not fasten, and he always found +his way in again, trampling over, in his way to the fire, the +recumbent forms of the sleepers, in a manner far from conducive to +good-humour. It was, therefore, not to be wondered at that our +slumbers were not prolonged to a late hour. I set forth at break of +day to find a clear-looking place in the river: for as I was to be +presented to his highness, I could not afford to forego any +advantages. The ice was on the side of the pools; but with the aid of +a small box I carried under my arm, I soon had all the requisites of +an elaborate dressing-room. Several of the Montenegrians were also on +the alert, rubbing their faces with the muddy water on the edge of the +lake; but whether to make them cleaner or dirtier did not appear. +Breakfast was soon dispatched. Already the cannonade had commenced, +and we hastened to the scene of action. Lessandro is a small low +islet, perhaps a hundred yards long by forty or fifty wide; at one end +was the principal, at the other, a minor fort. The first consisted of +a thick round tower, flat at top, where their largest gun was mounted. +This was surrounded by a low wall, with two small bastions at +different angles; the other was a square building, with a bastion at +one corner, containing, I believe, the stores. All over the island +were the tents of the soldiers—that of the commander distinguished by +a red flag. I think I counted about forty. The Montenegrians declared +they had in the island five hundred men. Not one was visible however, +the whole day. Under the lee of the chief fort was anchored a small +gun-boat from Scutari. On one side of Lessandro rises, in immediate +proximity, the mountainous island of Vranina. It was here that the +Vladika at first wished to have taken up his position; but boats, it +was said, were wanting to transport his men and munitions. Had he +attempted this, a serious encounter would probably have taken place; +but he had given up the idea, and it was as in consequence of this +that we had met the men returning home the day before. The spot he +fixed on was a mountain directly opposite Vranina, but at a greater +distance from the object of attack. He had not with him altogether +above fifty men. This time we had once more to pass within a quarter +of a mile of the fort; and as we were a boat-load of armed men +hastening to headquarters, I somewhat expected they might have +condescended to notice us. Such, however, was not the case; and we +landed and ascended the hill to where the battery was placed. We had +not been there long before the Vladika, who was on a higher part of +the ground, having heard of our arrival, came down to meet us. I felt +for a moment rather modest, and began to wonder what business I had +there. However, we advanced with all boldness, and soon distinguished +the chief<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>tain from his attendants by his giant stature. No bishop's +cassock covered his towering form. Clothed in scarlet and gold, he +descended the hill with the true Albanian strut. His manner was frank +and cordial; and on his invitation we all three sat down on the grass +to partake of a camp luncheon. The Vladika was then in the +thirty-fifth year of his age. In truth, he was a goodly man—a very +Saul among his people. His height I should think very nearly midway +between six and seven feet. He was not fat, but the breadth and +massiveness of his chest and limbs was extraordinary. His figure was +very finely proportioned, and his movements free and active. His face +was somewhat broad, with good features, and his voice peculiarly soft +and pleasing. His hair and beard black, and, after the fashion of the +Greek clergy, uncut. He wore a Turkish pelisse of scarlet, coming +nearly to the knee, and trimmed with gold and sable, a large fur cap, +and the usual blue drawers and opunkas of the Montenegrians. A pair of +plain European pistols were in his belt—the only arms he wore. The +place where we sat was in a most picturesque situation. The Turkish +balls kept whizzing past, forming, as his highness remarked, beautiful +music. Indeed, it seemed to me we were very nearly in the line a +well-directed shot ought to have taken; but, of course, it was not my +place to speak. Our fare consisted of cold meat carved in slices with +the yataghan, and rum out of the mouth of the same bottle. He +conversed in French fluently, and various courteous speeches showed it +was not the first time he had encountered female society. He seemed +excited when relating the misdeeds of his enemies, and his usually +languid voice assumed a little asperity, as he described the way in +which, while he made war in Bosnia, "ces diables des Turcs" had +surprised his garrison at Lessandro. My knowledge of gunnery was not +extensive, still I could not be ignorant of the chance he had, with +three short twelve-pounders, of injuring any building whatever, when +firing at it at a distance of eight hundred yards, in an almost +perpendicular direction. The fort, besides, seemed very sturdy and +solid, and I could not flatter him with hopes of success. He did not, +however, appear to be without hope. Certainly, had he chosen to risk +an assault with some trifling loss, the place might have been in his +possession; but boats were not at hand in sufficient numbers, and +besides, such a proceeding might not have been popular with amateur +soldiers. He asked me if I had brought any letters to him; I frankly +owned I had not. "Ah!" he said, "you came from curiosity, that you +might talk in the gay circles of London, of having seen the Vladika of +Montenegro." I did not say, that were I to do so, I should talk very +unintelligibly to a great many of my hearers. After our collation was +finished, we rose and proceeded to the battery, if it could be +honoured with such a name. But had its power been as extensive as the +view from it, it would have amply sufficed. The day was now most +beautiful and spring-like, and various flowers, with sportive +butterflies and other insects, enlivened the mountain side. The broad +blue lake lay beneath, and in the extreme distance the position of +Scutari itself could be distinguished. Three ranges of mountains were +visible, rising one above the other, till the snowy chains of Bosnia +bounded the horizon. The cannonade, as there was little to be +apprehended, added to the beauty and interest. The wreathing of the +white smoke on the Turkish tower, and the report borne along in the +calm air, and echoed a dozen times by the distant mountains—the +gradual approach and whizzing of the balls, and the shot from our +guns, as it hit the buildings, or occasionally bounded along the +water, were all interesting novelties. I made a sketch, to the best of +my ability, of every object of interest in the vicinity of this lovely +spot. As regards matters purely military, we had three guns in +operation—short twelves, as I have already mentioned; a rampart was +before them, formed of earth, bound with stakes, and about three feet +thick. I was told this had only been struck four times. Few people +were about. Nor could gunners of fame have been in plenty, for I soon +discovered Petrarca pointing the cannon. The shot also was of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +different sizes—any that could be got, as Austria does not favour the +importation of warlike materials into Montenegro; and to this +disparity of metal may be ascribed the constant difficulty which the +Montenegrian gunners experienced in hitting even the island. Still +they kept the game alive, the Turks not giving one shot for three. +They appeared to have four guns, but their biggest was on the platform +of the chief tower, a screen of masonry protecting it from lying +entirely open to our position on the hill. They fired also several +shells, but they did no damage, exploding high in the air. At length +the Vladika approached the best cannon, anxious to display his skill. +He took a long aim, and then fired, exulting greatly when the ball +struck the stone screenwork at top of the tower. This was just where +he aimed, and it was the best shot by far that I had seen. A little +dust seemed to fly, but no further damage. The reply of the Turks came +promptly, but his highness did not honour their skill by even ducking +below the rampart. It lodged in the side of the hill several feet +below us. We remained, enjoying the interesting scene and beautiful +day, till about one o'clock, when the Montenegrian batteries suspended +operations from a temporary failure of ammunition. Being desirous of +passing the night in less crowded quarters than the previous one, we +now took our leave of the Vladika, and returned to the hamlet we had +left in the morning; and having with some difficulty procured a pony, +we set off to get as far on our road to Cattaro as we could, not +returning by Cettigna, which would have been round about, but entering +the Austrian territory above Budua and Castel Astua—Cattaro at +present lying to the north-west of us. The boy who conducted this same +pony, (a little mare, with a mule foal running beside her,) was the +most unmitigated savage I have met with on my travels, though not more +than ten years old. He was the ugliest little urchin I ever saw—his +only clothing was a piece of an old sack and ragged opunkas. After +galloping some distance to meet us, his mind misgave him as to his +pistol, and he returned and made his father, who was working in the +field, exchange with him. He then undertook to lead the pony, (the +animals here do not go pleasantly unless led, and also by some one +they are acquainted with,) which he did in the most desperate manner, +walking at about seven miles an hour. No concern of his what became of +the knees of the occupant, or with what stones or thorns they might be +brought into collision. When he came to a precipice in the road, and +there were many, down he jumped tugging the beast after him, and not +looking behind once. All this time the foal kept jamming up against +its mother. It was soon evident that the dismissal of this youth and +his cattle was a <i>sine qua non</i>, as cautions were vain. But on a sum +being offered which he considered less than his due, having come about +a mile, he took his own part in a manner most edifying in one so +young; and had the retainers of our party not been as well provided as +he, I believe he would have pistolled the whole of us. At length, +finding his efforts fruitless, he sprang on the pony, and putting her +to her best pace, was soon out of sight. About the same time we fell +in with two monks from the convent of Bercelli, who were on their way +to pay their respects to the Vladika. This was fortunate, as we had +intended to sleep there. These were the only inmates, and had the key +of the place with them. After treating the party to brandy, one of +them turned back with us. He was an old man, and he had to return a +distance of twelve miles; but he never seemed to give this a thought. +They were dressed in black gowns, and high black caps. Our road lay +through a populous district, and many were the salutations Petrarca +received, coupled with enquiries respecting us—long conversations +taking place over miles of intervening hill and dale. This time, I +believe, I filled the part of the English ambassador. The outward +appearance of our quarters, when we arrived, was not prepossessing; +but the state of dirt of the best room could hardly have been +anticipated. Its equal—I speak advisedly—could not be found out of +the country we were in. The floors mouldy and rat-eaten—old<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> shelves +hanging about, containing every kind of rubbish—crusts of bread, a +bit of tallow candle in a bottle—old cups and glasses in different +directions, with the remains of something in the bottom of every one. +The only covering on the boards which formed the bed, was a sheepskin +blanket, very old and dirty, looking like the mother of fleas. It +would take a page to mention the manifold horrors that presented +themselves. At length, after a late bad supper, I felt repose +desirable, be it where it might. We had stipulated, however, for the +sole possession of this melancholy dormitory, and having made up the +best bed I could, turned in with loathing; but the cold made one less +particular, as it was hard frost, and the windows had no shutter or +fastening of any kind. I found, however, there was one exception to +our sole right of tenure; no other than the old priest himself, whom I +had shortly to get up and let in. Poor man! he had nowhere else to go; +and having given up his luxurious couch, he proposed for himself to +court slumber on the top of an old chest—it looked hard, certainly, +and the poor old man seemed ill at ease. All night he rested none. He +groaned much, and was afflicted with a cough and its usual results; +and in each result he laboured long and strenuously, as though putting +his whole soul in it, till a severe shock on the opposite wall showed +the successful issue of his exertions. We did not lie in bed next +morning very long after waking, and by six o'clock were on our road, +expressing a firm determination to reach Cattaro or perish, sooner +than pass another night in a Montenegrian homestead. There was no +other mule to be procured to-day, so it was a case of riding and tying +with the portmanteau. When the latter walked, it usually did so on the +head of the poor woman who brought the mule. The remainder of our +luggage consisted of two carpet-bags, and Spiro and Melo slung one of +these upon each of their guns, and proceeded merrily. We entered the +Austrian territory by the village of Braitsch. The people hereabouts +are very poor and ill-off. Our way overlooked the sea; below us lay +Budua. We halted, to give ourselves and the mule a drink, by the fort +of Stanivitch. This was formerly a convent, and under the dominion of +Montenegro; but Austria has lately become possessor of it, through, I +believe, a pecuniary arrangement with the Vladika. His territory, +however, at no time reached the sea in any part, though this is not +distant above two or three miles; it was now a military post. A +Moravian captain was in command, who most politely invited us to stay +the night, fearing we should be unable to reach Cattaro; however, it +was then only four o'clock, the day was bright, and the sight of the +sea encouraged us. Besides, I noticed a <i>flea</i> on the collar of his +coat. We thanked him for his kindness, and persevered on our journey. +Our road lay nearly all on the descent, and while it was good, and the +daylight lasted, we hurried forward with all speed. At length it +became very rocky and precipitous; and, as the light soon failed +entirely, it became necessary to mount the portmanteau, as it was not +possible for any biped to sustain it longer on their head, and to +maintain their equilibrium as well. From very bad, things got to much +worse. The track, as well as the whole country, was composed of +angular grey rocks, among which, in the now total darkness, it became +nearly impossible to discern the path. These stones had a light +appearance, and it was desirable to avoid bringing one's shins in +contact with them; but if a spot seemed dark, and might be imagined to +be soft ground, it proved to be one of the villanous prickly bushes of +the country. This shrub grows all over Albania and Dalmatia, and, I +believe, in Italy; it is low and bushy, with abundance of flat round +seed; the spines are set both ways, up and down the twig, and are the +most malignant thorns I ever met with. Whatever part of your garments +they catch hold of, from that they have never been known to part. +Presently our road became inhabited by a stream of water, and every +step that avoided the stones was ankle-deep in mud. How the mule could +have got on, as I could not see, I cannot imagine, but the box which +it carried was not seriously damaged. The two guides in their opunkas<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +walked firmly, but the others were tumbling frequently. The female who +had come with us now fairly "compounded," according to the sporting +phrase, and gave vent to her sufferings in tears and reproaches. This +had, however, a reviving effect upon others of our party, who were +near compounding themselves—for I had rather been holding out the +endurance of this poor woman, who had walked most of the day with a +portmanteau on her head, as an example for imitation. The town of +Cattaro at length became visible far below us, after almost the +longest three hours I ever passed. At other times, I might have been +tempted to derive amusement from the mishaps of my friends under +similar circumstances; but at present, some of the party had been +reduced to such desperation, that I began sometimes to doubt the +favourable issue of our journey. By nine o'clock the land gates are +closed, and this we had heard already strike. The sea gate is open for +another hour. It was not till after this, that, having gained the +coast road which leads to Cattaro from the south, we reached the town. +There, a boat was requisite to take us over the sea gate; but all the +town boats had long since retired, and it took us at least half an +hour to awake somebody on board a trabacolo in the harbour. When at +length we were conveyed to the gate, a small gratuity to the sentinels +gained us admission, and a little before midnight we found ourselves +once more in our favourite inn. We remained some days at Cattaro, +arranging for our departure. During this time, we heard that the +Vladika had at length found his task hopeless, and abandoned +hostilities. He had been, however, a week arriving at such a +conclusion, and the sound of the cannonade was heard during the whole +of the time occupied by our return. It was a pity to see a worthy +potentate of moderate means spending his pocket-money so fruitlessly. +The philanthropist will be glad to learn that no lives were sacrificed +during this protracted siege. The Montenegrians, more modest than some +of our own neighbours on a late occasion of very similar glory, laid +claim only to having wounded one man in the fort; but an Albanian +bulletin might have denied even that.</p> + +<p>Before concluding, a few further particulars concerning Montenegro +will not be out of place. In former days, as I have observed, they +were but a den of mountain thieves, dangerous to each other, and +unapproachable by strangers. At the present time, no country can boast +superiority in either of these respects. Indeed, in so small a +community, crime is rare, from the greater certainty of detection. I +speak nothing, of course, of border pastimes with their neighbours; +and these, possibly, form a safety-valve to the pent-up propensities +of the inhabitants. This important change has been brought about +within fifty years, but, most of all, during the twelve years that the +present Vladika has reigned. But the Vladikas who have effected this +change, actuated by the desire of improving the condition of their +people, have been obliged to barter their independence, in a manner, +for Russian gold, in order to give them the means of effecting it. I +am not able to say when the subsidizing system first commenced, but at +present the Vladika, as well as all the officials and senators, +receive their stipends. That of the Vladika amounts, I believe, to +about eight thousand pounds annually; but this may include a small tax +of, I think, two shillings on each household, which is paid by the +Montenegrians themselves. Of the senators, there are forty who are +elected by the communes, and paid by Russia. There is also a force of +eight hundred men paid, and residing in different districts, which +forms an executive police; but there is nothing in the shape of a +standing army. The Vladikas are appointed by the emperor in nepotal +succession from the family of Petrovitch. The present Vladika received +his education at St Petersburg, and several of his nephews are now +there, from whom his successor will be chosen. I am not acquainted +with the amount of temporal power possessed by the Vladika, but I +should think it was subject to much restraint. I have heard that, on +more than one occasion in the senate, he has been personally +threatened during the stormy debates which have occurred. Though he is +generally<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> popular, it would seem that here, as elsewhere, there +exists a strong party opposed to all reform, and pining for the good +old days of general license. The demeanour of the Montenegrians to +their Vladika, though respectful, is free and independent. On meeting +him the hand is raised to the head, or, if near, they offer to kiss +his hand. This salutation is paid to any ordinary priest, and +occasionally, through all Dalmatia, to a stranger like myself. Russia, +it will be seen, reigns as completely in Montenegro as though its +passes were occupied by her soldiers. The supplies stopped, all would +be anarchy and confusion. Nor do the Montenegrians object to this in +any way. Their personal independence is in no way compromised, and +their laws and usages remain unaltered. There is not a single Russian +in Montenegro, and, only knowing them at distance, they regard them at +present with hearty good-will. The Vladika, however, who reaps the +greatest benefits, has, it would appear, to submit to a certain loss +of freedom. During the past summer he visited Trieste and Vienna; and +I was informed, on good authority, had desired to go to England, but +had been unable to obtain the permission of an emperor who seems +determined no one shall travel but himself. The Vladika had certainly +expressed to me a hope that he should visit England some time. There +can be no doubt that it is well worth while thus to secure the +alliance of the Montenegrians, for they would prove a bitter thorn in +any collision either with Turkey or Austria. The country is divided +into twelve military jurisdictions, under so many captains, and every +man is bound to serve, though by what power, except inclination, I am +sure I do not know. I do not imagine that this has been particularly +provided for, so willing are they to serve uncalled.</p> + +<p>The population of Montenegro is at the present time not short of one +hundred and twenty thousand souls. Of these, more than half would be +serviceable were their own territory invaded; for every boy of eight +years old and upwards carries a gun, and there is no reason he should +not point it as straight as an older person, presenting, at the same +time, a smaller mark to the enemy. The women even occasionally assist, +and at all times carry the ammunition and supplies. I used sometimes +to think, when meeting one of these armed urchins, how ignominious it +would be to be robbed by him; and yet, were he only cunning enough to +keep out of arm's-length, I don't exactly know how it could be helped. +The arms of the Montenegrians consist of a long gun, usually very +elegantly mounted, the stock short, and curved like a horse's neck; +round his waist is a belt with cartouch-boxes containing the spare +ammunition, the cartridges for immediate use being in the pistol-belt +in front. Here, in a leather case, is a mass of arms which occupy the +same relative position to the wearer as the youthful kangaroo to its +parent; here are a brace of pistols with a pointed pommel, and a +yataghan, which is used in these countries to the entire exclusion of +the sword, and which, from its position in the belt, does not get in +the way when walking—the ramrod for the pistols also, which in the +East is a separate arm, containing sometimes a dagger or a pair of +tongs for adjusting the never-absent pipe, and a smaller knife is +often slung on behind. In ordinary times, a yataghan or pistol may be +dispensed with; but whatever may be the occupation of man or boy, the +gun is never left behind, whether ploughing, or cutting wood, or +carrying the heaviest burdens. It is almost extraordinary that they +should thus encumber themselves, as, within their own boundary, none +are so safe, and their mountains seldom afford them a living mark. I +believe it arises very much from a fondness for the weapon. The +greatest care is taken of it, and it undergoes a complete cleaning +after every shot. The arms of the people in general present a striking +contrast to their dress. On the former they spend most of their spare +money, and they are kept in great order and cleanliness. The warriors, +when they take the field, fight more for plunder than for honour and +glory. The spoils of houses and farm-steads, or the arms or heads of +their enemies, (a prisoner is never spared,) all form desirable +prizes. It must be remembered their service is chiefly voluntary, and +they receive no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> pay. It is not their tactics to expose themselves +much in battle. The grey rocks, which suit well the colour of their +dress, afford a shelter, from behind which they take well-directed +aim. Every man acts to the best of his judgment—usually acute where +self-preservation is the law; and their great activity and powers of +endurance enable them, in their difficult country, to contend with +many advantages against regular troops. In 1838, during a temporary +collision with Austria, they gave as good as they received, to say the +least; and perhaps it was owing to this that peace was so soon +concluded. In such a country cavalry is out of the question, and +horses are seldom used. The Vladika himself possesses a considerable +stud. The dress of the people—at all seasons the same—consists of a +white coat of coarse cloth, with generally a blue edging, open in +front, and reaching nearly to the knee. This has no buttons, but is +fastened round the waist by a red sash. They are usually shirtless, +and their hardy bosoms brave the storm in all weathers. Around their +shoulders is thrown a description of plaid, generally of a brown +colour, about three feet wide and six feet long; and from keeping this +in its proper position, a slight stoop becomes habitual. They have +wide drawers of blue serge, or sometimes of the material of their +coats, which is thicker; of this also are their leggings formed. Under +the opunkas is worn a thick woollen sock; but in wet weather the men +and women usually go barefooted. On their head is a small round cap of +scarlet or black cloth. Their custom is to shave the whole of the face +excepting the mustaches, as well as the sides and crown of the head; +but from long neglect, it is often difficult to distinguish the +favoured localities. Petrarca, in his avocation of barber, was in the +greatest request. The costume of the women does not differ widely, but +the coat is longer, and a petticoat replaces the blue drawers—round +their waist is a belt of great weight, about three inches wide, and of +the thickest leather, set with cornelians and other coarse stones, +mounted in brass. The red cap is usual, and the hair is often prettily +braided. I have seen some head-dresses composed of silver coins. None +of the people seem to be in the habit of bathing or washing, and they +do not remove their garments at night. The children have often nothing +but a shirt. As a nation they are healthy and robust, though fevers +occur at certain times in some districts. Among the men two casts of +features are general; the one, known among us as the "Jack Sheppard +face"—the lower parts rather prominent, and the nose short and +somewhat turned up, the complexion and hair very dark. The other is +very different, a bright colour and high handsome features; yet nearly +every person one meets belongs to one of these two varieties. The +latter is commonest among the tallest men. They have all very good +teeth, and their expression is intelligent and good-humoured. As in +feature, so in stature, considerable uniformity appears. Their height +averages about five feet ten, with great development of muscle. The +women are relatively inferior in looks—they are broad and short, +seeming to possess great strength; but the labour they undergo, and +the burdens they carry, appear inimical to beauty. They have often +pleasant countenances and good brick-dust complexions. The Servian or +Naski here spoken is considered among the purest dialects of +Sclavonic—it has a very pleasing sound, being softer and more +melodious than the Russian. My stay was unfortunately not long enough +to obtain much knowledge of it, and this want will sufficiently +account for any errors that may appear in my descriptions of what I +did not personally witness; for it prevented that free intercourse +with the people, by which a true insight to their manners can alone be +acquired. Their laws seem very simple; he who kills is +killed—shooting being the mode of execution. He who robs must make +good; and, as few of the people are in abject poverty, this is usually +done. Should they fail, a summary flogging is inflicted. At Cettigna +is a small prison; I believe there is no other. When any one is there +confined, he trusts entirely to his friends for subsistence. They are +good-humoured, obliging, and extremely loquacious; but their continued +spitting is very disagreeable. I witnessed no games or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> diversions +among them except the one-stringed fiddle; but I understood that they +have a few athletic sports, such as wrestling and putting the stone. +They often go to sea. I encountered two among the crew of an Austrian +packet. They all profess the Greek faith, and are in their way very +religious. When passing a church they bow and cross themselves, and +perform all sorts of pious movements, which sometimes border on the +ludicrous. Before going to sleep they make long prayers. Previous to +visiting the Vladika, an armed Montenegrian entered in the morning the +house where we slept, and casting aside his gun and cloak, commenced +reading mass to the assembled party. This was the priest of the +parish. The older members of the community are not usually very +enlightened; but through the schools established by the Vladika, where +instruction is dispensed gratuitously, most of the rising generation +can read and write their native language, and a sufficiency of neatly +printed books are issued from the press he keeps employed at Cettigna. +No social distinctions are yet known among them, and the most perfect +equality prevails—even the sons address their father by his Christian +name. The only exception is in the person of the Vladika—his lot on +the whole is not an enviable one. The only educated mind among the +many—the only polished gentleman among simple peasants; he is indeed +an isolated being. Handsome and in the prime of life, yet there must +be none to cheer his lot, or lighten his solitude, nor any to whom he +would love to transmit his mountain throne. In this respect the laws +of his order are stringent, and the breath of scandal has never yet +sullied his fair name, though it is quite true that whilst in his +native land the temptations are not very severe. I should not be +surprised if a report I heard current should prove true, that he +intended, at no very distant period, to relinquish the government of +Montenegro, and spend the remainder of his days among a people more +congenial to the habits of a man of education. Were he an absolute +potentate, an extended field for benefiting his countrymen might be +obtained; but with his more constitutional power, the attempts he has +been able to make have been constantly thwarted by prejudice and +ignorance. Had he the privileges or the ties of an ordinary man, then, +as we all know, the barrener the rocks, the dearer seems the love of +the native land; but, situated as he is, he can hardly be accused of +want of patriotism if his stay in Montenegro should not extend beyond +the time required in saving sufficient of his income to quit it.</p> + +<p>Our voyage from Cattaro to Corfu was accomplished in a small +trabacolo—the San Marco of Spalatro—having on board three men and a +boy. These boats, though not fast, are very safe, and the Dalmatians +in general manage small craft well. The north wind is scarce at this +time of the year, but a beautiful <i>tramontana</i> blew during the time we +were working out of the Bocca. This we lost entirely, and not a breath +moved its calm waters. We had also to wait some hours at Port Rosa, +situated at the entrance of the Bocca, for our papers. By the time we +were out at sea, the wind had nearly died away, and the next day found +us employed gathering wild pomegranates on the desolate shores near +Antiversi, in Albania. Again a beautiful tramontana sprang up, and in +a vessel of first-rate sailing powers, would almost have brought us +in. All day we went gallantly along. The heads of Ducazzo—Dyrrichium +of old—began to appear, and soon we passed it in a foam. All night we +held on, and in the morning were beside the "<i>infames scopulos +Acroceraunia</i>," and in sight of the island of Sassina, near the +harbour of Avlona. On we went still, till at length there appeared the +land of the Phœacians, "like a shield upon the sea;" but there was +a cloud over it which portended ill. It advanced towards us, and +extended rapidly. It was soon evident to the most sanguine that the +wind was changing, and there was shortly no mistake about the matter. +I implored our skipper to keep on, though he tacked to the coast of +Apulia; but he knew his trade too well—the trade of a trabacolo +consisting in never losing sight of shore. So we were obliged to put +in to Avlona harbour, deeply lamenting. Two days were spent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> here, not +daring to land for fear of putting ourselves in quarantine. Above the +town rises the fortress of Canina, but all wears a ruined appearance. +The people of the neighbourhood, called Chimariots, have the worst +reputation of all the Albanians. The coast of Albania between this and +Corfu has a very barren and inhospitable appearance. The snowy peaks +of the Pindus rise directly from the sea. A few bushes were visible on +the mountains, but timber of any size is scarce. Villages and houses +are seldom seen. A glad contrast was presented when, on the tenth day +of our voyage, we approached the beautiful shores of Corfu; and it was +no small comfort, after so long an imprisonment in this little tub, +with holes to creep in about the size of a dog-kennel, and in the +roughest possible weather, to find ourselves in one of the most +comfortable hotels in Europe, and surrounded by old friends.</p> + +<p>Since my visit to Montenegro, the Vladika went to Vienna—I believe to +gain the mediation of Austria concerning the disputed territory of +Lessandro. After his return I understand he was visited by Lord +Clarence Paget, commanding her Majesty's frigate L'Aigle, who had been +sent to gain some information regarding his territory; so that, +perhaps, a more accurate account may be obtained than what is to be +found in these rough notes.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ÆSTHETICS OF DRESS.</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">A Case of Hats</span>.</h3> + + +<p>Of all the follies that can be fairly placed to the charge of the +human race—and, Heaven knows, they are thick as gnats in a summer +sunbeam—none can be laid at more people's doors than the fickleness +and vagaries of the judgment in adorning, to say nothing of covering, +man's outer scaffolding—the body. And the worst of it is, that this +folly-cap fits all men, from the Red Indian of America to the +sallow-faced, eye-slitted Chinese; and through all the robed pomp of +the solemn Turk to the chattering and capering monkeyism of the +Parisian exquisite—there are fops every where. As Mr Catlin will tell +you, one of his lanky Ojibbeway, or Ioway, or Cutaway, or +Anyotherkindo'way Indians varies the feathers in his head-dress, and +sticks new tinsel on his buffalo-mantle, whenever he can get them; +spending as much time in be-painting his cheeks on a summer morning, +as Beau Brummell, of departed memory, ever wasted in tying his cravat. +And so it has ever been—so it will ever be; man is not only a +two-legged unfledged animal, but he is also a vain imitative ape, fond +of his own dear visage, blind to his deformities, and ever desirous of +setting himself off to the best advantage. It is of no use quarrelling +with ourselves for this physiological fact—for we presume it to be +one of the best ascertained phenomena connected with the genus +<i>homo</i>—it is better to take it as we find it; and if we cannot hope +to cure man of the absurdity any time this side of the millennium, let +us try if we cannot turn the failing to some account, and make it +useful as well as ornamental.</p> + +<p>The chief quarrel to be picked with man for his dressing propensities, +is on the ground that he not only hides and disfigures the fair +proportions bestowed on him by his Maker, but that he ever and anon +loads himself with such masses of useless incongruities, that the very +end and object of his care are stultified. Instead of making himself +smart, pretty, becoming, beautiful—or any other word that you can +find in the dandy's dictionary—he frequently succeeds in making +himself positively ugly—frightful, in the pure abstract sense of the +term—or detestable, in the lingo of the Stultzean tribe—and +relapses, as a Frenchman would say, from civism to brutism: <i>Ah! quel +animal que l'homme!</i></p> + +<p>But let it not be supposed that we speak of man only, as applied to +that great branch of the species designated by the most experienced +naturalists<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> as <i>homo vir</i>; it is quite as true of the other moiety, +the <i>homo femina</i>. If it be possible that a woman should ever be made +frightful by any thing except age, then it is surely by dress; if a +woman never does a foolish thing in any other way, yet at least she +errs in her habiliments; if she be fickle at all, (and speak to the +fact, ye disappointed bachelors and ye complaisant husbands!) in what +is she more fickle than in dress? We might waste a life in finding a +suitable simile for her volatility in this matter: rainbows with +changing colours, water on a windy day, the wind itself in the month +of March, the much-desiderated perpetual motion; all are feeble +similes to describe a woman's fickleness in dress. Shall we liken it +to her tongue's untiring play? or shall we not rather say that it is a +psychological fact standing <i>per se</i>? the concomitant effect and +consequence of her beauty? But, dear creatures! we are not going to +quarrel with them for what gives us so much unconscious pleasure, (we +do not mean milliners' bills, gentle reader;) we glory in living under +a petticoat government, and in essentially petticoatian times. All we +shall do is to give a word of advice; and in trying on their caps for +them, we will show them the <i>rationale</i> of their bows and their lace, +if they will only have the patience to sit still for the experiment.</p> + +<p>Before embarking on such an important project, allow us to say that we +are not going to quiz old Whang-Fong for his pig-tail and peacock +feathers, nor his Cannibalean majesty for his obstinate refusal to +wear a decent pair of inexpressibles; it is a stiff subject to meddle +with the dressing propensities of people that live "in many a place +that's underneath the world." For all we care, Abd el Kader and his +Arabs may stifle themselves up in their greasy blankets swarming with +ancestral vermin under a nearly tropical sun; and the good people of +Igloolik may bedeck themselves with the spoils of fish, flesh, and +fowl, to set the fashions of the Arctic circle. We are going to speak +merely of our home acquaintances and our European friends; if these +only would be reasonable in their dress, what a new thing it would be +in the world—<i>quel progrés! quel évènement!</i></p> + +<p>The fundamental rule of dress we take to be the following—utility in +all cases, ornament when practicable. The first should ever precede, +and serve as the basis to the second; and it is the inversion of their +due positions that causes so many applications of the <i>utile</i> and the +<i>dulce</i> to end in sheer absurdity. The <i>usefulness</i> of any article or +system of dress depends entirely upon climate, modified of course by +the occupation or pursuits of the wearer; the <i>beauty</i> of it or the +suitableness of the ornament to the character of the vestment. We defy +all the editors of the <i>Recueils des Modes, Petits Courriers des +Dames, Belles Assemblées</i>, &c., with even the poet-laureates of Moses +and Son, Hyam and Co., with the whole host of Israelitish schneiders, +to find out a better æsthetic definition of the law of dress than +this. Who would have the effrontery to maintain that an Englishman, +the very type of the useful at Calcutta in his cotton jacket and +nankeens, would in the same habiliments be a suitably dressed man at +St Petersburg? and however much a well-set ring may ornament an +aristocratic finger, (though aristocratic fingers, like aristocratic +hands, as Byron observes, need no ornament to tell their origin,) who +but an Otaheitan would admire the application of them to the gouty +toes of some "fine old English gentleman?" Usefulness first, then, and +ornament afterwards; think first of what you actually want for your +health or comfort; cut your coat upon that pattern, clap on your lace +afterwards; but enrich it only to improve its appearance, not to +interfere with, to conceal, or to alter its original destination.</p> + + +<p>To begin, however, methodically, let us take what are commonly +understood by well-dressed English people of the present day, and let +us criticise them from top to toe. And first, then, of a gentleman's +head—<i>le chef</i>, as the French call it—and the <i>chapeau</i>, its present +gear. What a covering! what a termination to the capital of that +pillar of the creation, Man! what an ungraceful, mis-shapen, useless, +and uncomfortable appendage to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> seat of reason—the brain-box! +Does it protect the head from either heat, cold, or wet? Does it set +off any of natural beauty of the human cranium? Are its lines in +harmony with, or in becoming contrast to, the expressive features of +the face? Is it comfortable, portable, durable, or cheap? What +qualities, either of use or ornament, has it in its favour that it +should be the crowning point of a well-dressed man's toilet? The hat +is, beyond all doubt, one of the strangest vestimental anomalies of +the nineteenth century.</p> + +<p>The history of the hat is this:—The simplest covering for a man's +head after his own unshorn locks—(do not remind us of the matted and +<i>living</i> locks of the Indians or Hottentots)—must have been something +like the Greek skull-cap. This we hold to have been the root, or +nucleus, of the hat; and yet even this cap had a fault in point of +utility, for it failed to shadow the eyes: and on the earliest Greek +monuments we find a cap with a wide brim appended, or a flattish +straw-hat following close upon the Phrygian bonnet. A light flattish +hat has its recommendation in a warm country, but it will not do for +the winds and storms of a northern clime; and hence all the old Gauls, +the northern nations, the Tartars, and the peasants of Europe, for +many a long century wore a modified cap—sometimes swelling out into +ornamental proportions, at others shrinking into the primitive +simplicity of the Phrygian or Greek cap. Shall we confess it, +fastidious reader?—we strongly suspect the cap worn by that idle +fellow Paris, when he so impudently ogled the goddesses on Mount Ida, +to have been very similar to the good old <i>bonnet de nuit</i> of our +grandfathers—(shall we whisper it, of ourselves?) Yes, that little +cocked-up corner at the top looks like a budding tassel; he never had +such bad taste as to tie it with a riband round his brows; and we do +not read in Homer that Helen, though a capital workwoman, ever gave +him one; but we are inclined to believe that the old punty-dunty, +pudding-bag-shaped cap which is still worn by the French peasantry in +their field occupations, and is still patronized by a large portion of +Queen Victoria's loving subjects, is of the highest antiquity, and +based, we have no doubt, on utility. We must be candid enough to say, +that we give up the argument as to the intrinsic beauty of this +species of cap—truly we think it the very type of all that is +slovenly; but for use, there is not a more comfortable, portable, +pliable, buyable, and washable a commodity, than your—nightcap are we +to say? no—than your <i>bonnet Grec</i>.</p> + +<p>Hats, properly so called, whether of cloth or fur, were evidently the +invention of some out-of-door people; but then they were not the +brimless pyramidal canisters of the present fashion, but were either +caps with dependent brims, or else broad and flexible Spanish +<i>sombreros</i>. The very idea of a hat is that of utility—something to +keep off the sun and the rain—any thing will do for warmth that will +aid the hair in keeping in the natural caloric of a man's head; and +hence we much doubt whether the Irish, that hot-headed nation, ever +wore hats in early times. From the want of shade being early felt by +civilized nations, more than shelter from rain, and from hat-shapes +being found on early southern monuments, we are inclined to think that +the hat was more extensively worn in Southern than in Northern Europe; +more, as it is, in Southern England than in Northern Scotland. Hence, +although we find many iron skull-caps, like hats, used by the military +in the fifteenth century; and although we find traces of hats even in +the plebeian costumes of the middle ages—yet we look upon the Spanish +and Italian hat of the sixteenth century, as the more immediate origin +of its degenerate successor, the actual <i>chapeau</i>. We need not trace +the variations of its form through the seventeenth century, from the +high-crowned things of Henry III. of France, and James I. of England, +to the graceful beavers of Louis XIII., Philip III., and Charles I. of +England; the change was all in favour of the beaver; and certainly the +hat reached its culminating point of excellence during the reign of +our martyr king. Who has studied the splendid portraits of Vandyke, or +the heads of Rubens, and has not perceived the uncommon grace given to +them by the well-proportioned and not exces<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>sive hat? Who does not +remember the fine portrait of Rubens himself, with his black Spanish +hat turned up in front, the very perfection of that style of +head-dress? Put a modern hat by the side of this hat of Rubens, and +say which bears off the palm; there can hardly be two opinions upon +the subject. The great change of this hat took place, as is well +known, in Louis XIV.'s court, where first of all feathers were laid +all round upon the flat of the brim, and next the brim was edged with +lace, and pinched or cocked up, for greater use in military service. +It might have been useful for a military man, especially one who had +to handle a bayoneted musket; but it was a fatal invasion of the +principle of beauty to adopt a permanent cock. There is no doubt that +the flat cocked hat, the small three-cornered pinched hat of the days +of Louis XIV. and Louis XV., gave much smartness to the soldier, and +much neatness to the civilian; the change, too, corresponded with +other alterations of dress, from the loose and flowing, to the tight +and succinct principle; but picturesque effect was entirely lost; all +the sentimentality, all the romance of the hat, evaporated in the +formal cock. But this small flat hat of the seventeenth and eighteenth +centuries, was perfection and beauty itself, compared with the +outrageous and elevated cocked hat which came into fashion sometime +before 1750, and which is the immediate prototype of the present +military cocked hat. Here the principle of utility was entirely +abandoned; it was sacrificed to the display of an unnatural brim. The +hat was no longer formed by the pinching up of a circular brim of +moderate dimensions; but three enormous flaps were made to rear their +unwieldy height in the air, and were strengthened, stiffened, and +supported, against the envious winds, to the torment of the wearer, +and to the disfigurement of his person. All through the first half of +the tasteless reign of good old George III., did this horrible +covering disguise the beau's head; and the effect of it may still be +judged of by his grandchildren, when they contemplate, not without +awe, the rubicund figure of some metropolitan church-beadle with his +large-caped coat, silver-headed cane, and monstrous three-cornered +hat. Our modern great ladies, strange to say, seem to have an especial +affection for this hat, since they take particular care to have a +couple of footmen behind their carriage glorying in this capital +atrocity, while on the coach-box they encourage the older form of the +flat cocked hat of Louis XV.</p> + +<p>All cocked hats, be it observed, are glorious rain-traps; the only +improvement they are capable of is one not yet patented, namely, the +appending of neat flexible spouts, say of Macintosh cloth, from each +corner, so as to convey the water in pleasant meanderings over the +back and coat-tails. In dry weather these spouts might be tied up, and +would form graceful curves either before, behind, or on one side of +the cocked flaps, while in a shower they would add dignity to utility, +as they hung all adown the back of the wearer. One kind of utility, +however, the old cocked hat certainly had; it served in some degree, +maugre the looping up of the brim, to shelter the face from the sun; +not indeed when worn full front, as it was in Dr Johnson's time, and +as we remember the household troops used to wear it—but when, by a +daring innovation of revolutionary times, it came to be turned round +on its human pivot, and lay gently athwart the line of vision. Thus it +is that our generals wear it in this nineteenth century; thus it was +that the Great Duke got all through Spain with it; though Napoleon, +who greatly reduced its dimensions, always kept to the orthodox +full-front; and in all positions, except the latter, it certainly does +shade some portion of the face from the sun. But while, for example, +the projection of one peak shades the nose, the ears and cheeks are +left to fish for themselves; or else, if the hat wheels round again to +the front, the ears come under its benignant shade, but the tip of the +proboscis suffers awfully. The cocked hat has always been a two-horned +dilemma ever since the third peak moved up in the world from its +original position of horizontal equality, and aspired to be a near +neighbour of the cockade or towering plume.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>It was that wicked revolution of France, or rather that dissolute time +preceding it, which produced the most mischief in the hat line. Look +at any of the pictures of that day—look at the portraits of the +Conventionalists—look at the old prints of country gentlemen hunting +or riding races at Newmarket—remember the Sir Joshuas in many a noble +gallery; and you will not fail to remark that the choice spirits of +the day, the go-ahead lads of that time, had let down the flaps of +their cocked hats into slouching, and we must say, most slovenly +circular brims. There was a sort of free-and-easy look affected in +that day about the head, totally at enmity with the prim rigidity of +the cocked beaver; you might have taken off your <i>chapeau rond</i>, as it +then came to be called, and you might have sat on it—it would have +been never the worse; but not so with its stiff old father—no +liberties were to be taken with him; once sit upon him, and you would +have crushed him forever. This very difference of hats marked a +difference of politics—at least in France. There the old <i>chapeau à +trois cornes</i> was the badge of the aristocracy: the <i>chapeau rond</i> and +the <i>bonnet rouge</i> were sworn brothers in the cause of democracy. The +times were getting unhinged; all fashions were relaxing; so were +public morals; so were private morals; so were men's hats: hats and +heads seemed to have a sympathy, and to have gone wrong together.</p> + +<p>And what has been the history of the hat since that day?—the +civilian's hat we mean. Who remembers the overlapping crowns which +came into fashion soon after the great peace, at a time when Frenchmen +wore their brims extravagantly pinched up at the sides, and deeply +pulled down fore and aft? Sometimes the hat rose up in pyramidal +majesty; sometimes it was shut in like a telescope wanting to be +pulled out. And then every kind of fancy man had a fancy hat: there +was the Neck-or-nothing hat, the Bang-up, the Corinthian, the Jerry, +and the Logic; or else distinguished leaders of <i>ton</i> lent their names +to it, and we had the Petershams, the Barringtons, &c. Through every +degree of absurdity has the <i>chapeau rond</i> passed, until it seems to +have settled down into that quiescent state of mediocrity which marks +the decline of empires and of hats. The brim is no longer only half an +inch broad as it was once, nor four inches broad as we also remember +it: it seems to vary between the limits of one inch and two—a breadth +just sufficient to let the line of shade, when the head is erect, come +upon the eye-lids, and just sufficient to clear the ears. But if the +head be moved ever so little, or if the rain come down ever so +slantingly, the services of the hat are at an end: it is well enough +to intercept any thing coming down perpendicularly, but +"slantendicularly," as friend Slick says—no. Its present height is +just enough to prevent your wearing it in a carriage, and such, too, +as to give a moderate wind a good purchase upon it: the substance is +such that the least exposure to wet ruins it, whether of beaver or +silk; a moderate blow will crack or break its form; and for the first +week, if you have any thing like a sensitive head, or any bosses of +unknown qualities protruding from your cranium, you are doomed to +incessant headache from hat-pinchings. It has no properties of +usefulness to recommend it, and none of ornament, saving this—if it +can be called such—the being an invaluable appendage for a little man +to make himself appear tall. What a wide interval from the simplicity +of its Phrygian original!</p> + +<p>Having, therefore, criticized our present head-gear, and condemned our +hats, without pulling them to pieces, let us enquire what a proper +covering for the head should be: first of all in point of usefulness, +and next in point of comely appearance. But let no man vainly imagine +that we expect to suit the fancies of all the creatures privileged to +wear hats, or even to cover their heads; we do not pretend to invent, +or decide upon, any one given type or form of head-dress. So many are +the wants of a man in covering his head, so widely differing from each +other are the exigencies of different people, that uniformity in hats +is to be given up as a bad job: to attempt it would foil the strength +of a Hercules: the utmost<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> we can hope to effect is to lay down +certain limits for the variations of this apex of human pride.</p> + +<p>For us, then, who live in a climate rainy, windy, hot, and cold, all +within any twenty-four hours of the year, just as the case may be, it +is plain that we want for general use something that will be proof +against the atmospherical accidents that may befall any man who goes +abroad to take the air. And here let it be observed, that in reasoning +about hats, all thoughts about that effeminate invention, the +umbrella, are to be laid aside. This utensil is truly a disgrace to +the manhood of the times; and its existence, by allowing people to +dispense with warm cloaks and other anti-rain appliances, has caused +more disease, in letting them catch cold, than any thing else we know +of. Our stalwart ancestors did admirably well without umbrellas; they +wore good cloaks or coats, and broad beavers to keep the rain out of +their necks, faring not a jot the worse for it. Umbrellas are only fit +for men-milliners, Cockney travellers, and women. The nature of a hat, +we flatter ourselves, is something independent of cotton and +whalebone; and instead of the umbrella claiming precedence over the +hat, the hat, we take it, should be above the umbrella. An +Englishman's hat, then, should be something that will keep the rain +off his face and neck when the weather is bad, and shield his eyes +from the glare of the sun on the few days when sunlight is +oppressive—and these two requirements settle at once, on all +principles of common sense, that a man, if he has only one kind of +covering for the head, should have a hat with a broad brim. This is +the very foundation of the definition of an useful hat, providing that +a hat is really to be the thing worn for protecting a man's upper +story. Usefulness will also decide against height in the crown. <i>Cui +bono</i> this same high crown of ours, that looks more like a +watering-pot deprived of its spout and handle than a reasonable +article of human apparel? Down with the crowns, say we! If you will +wear a hat, down with your crown. You may put down your half-sovereign +or sovereign, or whatever you please, for your new hat first of all, +but down with your crown too. Here, gentle reader, you will exclaim +against our taste, and will protest that we would sacrifice every +thing to that horrid utilitarian principle, which opposes all ideas of +beauty and poetry. We are free to confess that, in our opinion, there +is not much poetry to be made about such a subject—unless some +obsolete verses, "All round my hat," may be alleged to the contrary; +but as for the beauty of the head-piece, we protest that we admit its +existence, and think that it should be consulted by whomsoever would +pay proper attention to his own outward appearance. The merely useful +may possibly make the shape approximate to that of a Quaker's or a +jarvey's, but the beautiful has to elevate and modify it into the +mystical proportions fit for a man of taste. One other quality, +however, which is intimately connected with the useful, has to be +noticed. The substance should not be hard and unyielding. Witness, ye +reminiscences—ye painful images of bygone headachs, even yet flitting +through our brain like Titanic thunderbolts!—accursed be the memory +of that fellow Tightfit in Old Bond Street, who used to screw his hats +on our cranium when we were young, and ere London had awakened us! As +you value your comfort, dear reader, never purchase a hard hat. A hard +heart may be borne with, but a hard hat—never! And last of all, a hat +should be light—yes, the lighter the better—light as a gossamer web, +though 'tis a simile that will not bear stretching. You may have the +misfortune to be a heavy-headed man, but do not add to it that of +being heavy-hatted. Avoid the extremity of suffering; and observe the +climax of ill from which we would shield your head—a narrow-brimmed, +hard, heavy, high-crowned hat—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 1em;"><ins class="correction" title="tode gar brotois megiston êlthet ek theôn kakon.">"τοδε γαρ βροτοίς μεγιστον ηλθετ’ εκ θεων κακον."</ins></span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p>The covering of the head, then, must have its usefulness made +ornamental, if not beautiful; and the due ornamentation of it will +depend principally upon its form, but also upon its colour and +material. Now, form is the principal thing; every one that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> has half +an eye for art will tell you this—'tis an admitted axiom. Either, +then, the shape of the covering should conform to that of the head, or +it should not, and we take our ground in support of the latter +position. The natural form of the head is determined by the rotundity +of the cranium, beautifully modified by the waving curls of the +hair—we speak of the abstract well-formed head; and nothing that +approaches to the same shape will ever do more than give a bad +substitute for the outline of the head as nature framed it. Any +covering conceals the hair; and if you remove from sight this +intrinsically beautiful integument, it is a principle of bad taste to +put in its place only a poor copy of the same contour. If you cover +the head, cover it with something that forms lines not curving like +the skull, nor yet so angular as to create too striking an opposition +of ideas in the mind of the beholder. A close-fitting untasseled +skull-cap does not improve the form of the head, for it is not half so +graceful as the hair; but a square hat or pyramidal cap is truly +detestable. This is the reason why the common nightcap is ugly; it +fits the head too closely, and its upper end conveys the ludicrous +idea of something made to be pulled at. On the other hand, the double +nightcap, pulled out and allowed to hang down on one shoulder, Spanish +fashion, is less ugly—though far removed from our own ideas of +beauty—because it introduces a new system of curves, and acts as a +kind of dependent drapery to compensate for the concealment of the +hair. Here is also the reason why the common hat is so frightful; it +gives us straight or nearly straight lines, going upwards like +tangents from the oval of the face, and cut off above by another +straight line (the section of the crown) at right angles: all such +lines and angles are foreign to the face and head. The common nightcap +is too familiar, the common hat too stiff. Observe the lines of the +face and head; the projection of the nose, the rounded angularity of +the chin; the vertical section of the head affording curves with +decided yet harmonious irregularities; the horizontal section +producing a nearly regular contour. Well, it is upon principles of +this kind that the covering of the head should be beautified. Now, we +profess ourselves unable to make any better reconciliation of the +useful with the beautiful for this purpose, than in the small, +flexible, light, and broad-brimmed hat, which is still to be found in +some Spanish and Italian pictures; a hat not quite so large as that +worn in the reign of Charles I., yet with all its freedom and +capability of assuming a variety of graceful forms; not so stiff as +the beaux of the Spanish court, and the rakes of our own merry +monarch's palace made it; not so formal as we know James I. and Lord +Bacon used to wear; but something between all these three types. The +prevalence of straight lines in it should be avoided without its +appearing slovenly, and its dimensions should be such as to consult +convenience without relapsing into a homely vulgarity. Such a kind of +hat admits of any further ornament which the fancy of the wearer may +induce him to add; a feather, a band, a buckle, or even a plain button +for occasionally looping up the brim on one side or other, (not two +sides, for it would return to the old cocked hat,)—any of these +extraneous additions would harmonize, and would be in due character +with its shape. Such a hat would certainly be useful; and that it +would be ornamental we have only to decide by consulting our eyes, and +by looking at our ancestors' portraits of the seventeenth century.</p> + +<p>But there is another kind of covering for the head, which, for its +peculiar purposes, seems to us more useful and more ornamental even +than this hat; we allude to the common round travelling cap, the +officers' undress cap in the British army. Are you going a journey? +have you any rough work to do? have you got a headach and want +something light? would you put on something that will not spoil by +being pulled about, sat on, slept on, and stood on? something handy, +useful, comfortable, and withal good-looking?—What do you do? you get +a foraging cap. Every man looks well in a foraging cap; it harmonizes +with every body's face: it makes the old look young, and the young +look smart: it is, without pretence, plain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> in detail, and yet elegant +in outline: it has no straight lines in it, and yet its curves are in +contrast with those of the head; they run in opposite directions: and +the shade of the cap, if it has one, emulates the decisiveness of the +nose, and gives character to the profile of the head, just as the nose +gives point and force to the face. Nothing so easily admits of +suitable ornament: a plain band—a golden one—or even a coloured +one—makes it suitable to the various ranks and occupations of men: +while its material, admitting of infinite variety, according to the +taste of the wearer, never injures the source of its beauty its form. +The cap fails in only one thing; it is unfit for rainy weather; it +will only do for dry days. Do not attempt to put a flap behind it, and +tie it under your chin—you at once convert it into an ugly nightcap; +its curves then imitate those of the head, and the ridiculous takes +the place of the becoming. For three hundred days, however, out of the +three hundred and sixty-five, such a cap may be worn with the greatest +comfort and advantage: while, for simplicity and elegance, it has no +rival. We exclude most vigorously all other kinds of caps; we admit +nothing but the common round foraging cap, with a small shade over the +eyes; we especially set our faces against the little quirked Highland +cap, now revived, and becoming popular among the southrons. This cap +has part of its curves—those behind the head approximating too +closely to the curve of the skull: in fact, at the hinder part it is a +skull-cap; whereas, the other part of the curves in front are too much +in opposition to the outline of the face: they bend over and form an +unpleasant contrast with the nose and chin: they are deficient in the +shade or visor, and there is not one man in a thousand whose face they +suit. All fancy-caps with whalebone, falling tops, angular +projections, &c., are utterly abominate; we pin our faith to the +quiet, unsophisticated, gentlemanlike cap worn by our officers: it +beats almost any other head-dress in the world.</p> + +<p>The prevailing tendency of the age is to avoid distinctions of dress +except in the value of the material, and then only between the two +great divisions of society—the affluent and the poor. Hence all +ornament seems to be a superfluity, except upon occasions of public +display or military service; and men will not now listen to any one +who advises them to put feathers and gold lace on their hats and caps: +they would as soon think of returning to the embroidered coats of +their grandfathers. The principle is a good one: in the palmy days of +Rome, the differences of dress bore no proportion to the differences +of station; distinction in dress was the failing of the middle ages, a +consequence of some lurking seeds of northern barbarism, which are +only now ceasing to be propagated. We seem, like the great men of the +Eternal City eighteen hundred years ago, to be looking more at the +inward worth and influence of a man, than at his outward state and +dress; and it is a good sign of the times; it is a reasonable +inclination of the mind; but it confines the exercise of taste in +dress. Men of the present day are determined to be plain about the +head as well as about the body; all ornament of head-dress they have +left to soldiers and to the fairer half of the creation:—<i>sed hæc +hactenus</i>—we reserve our remarks on the <i>coiffures</i> of these two +classes for another occasion.</p> + +<div class="right">H. L. J.</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE THREE GUARDSMEN.</h3> + + +<p>Guardsmen have at all periods been a racketing, rollicking set of +fellows. Whether ancients or moderns, infidels or Christians, +prætorians or janissaries, the <i>mousquetaires</i> and Scottish archers of +the French Louises, or the lifeguards of "bonnie Dundee's" own +regiment, they have always claimed, and usually enjoyed, a greater +degree of license than is accorded to the more unpretending soldiery +of the line. The first in the field, and the last out of it, they have +sometimes seemed to think that, by thrashing the king's enemies, they +acquired a right to baton his subjects, that captured cities atoned +for the wrongs of deluded damsels, and that each extra blow struck in +the fight, entitled them to an extra bottle in the barrack-room. On +duty, discipline—off duty, dissipation—seems to have been the motto +of these gentlemen; and if it be the case, that they occasionally +forgot the former part of their device, it, on the other hand, is no +where upon record, that they were oblivious of its latter portion. +Fighting hard and drinking hard, living hard and dying hard, the +bravest men and most desperate debauchees of all countries, have worn +the uniform of guardsmen.</p> + +<p>Our old friend, M. Alexandre Dumas, who, if we may believe one of his +biographers, passes twelve hours a-day in driving a goosequill for the +entertainment and particular edification of his countrymen, found +himself, one fine morning, desperately at a loss for something to +write about. He is, perhaps, not the first writer of fiction who has +been in a like predicament; and even if he were, it would be neither +wonderful nor unpardonable, seeing that his average rate of production +is about three volumes per month. There is a limit to all things, even +to the imagination of a French romance writer; and M. Dumas, without +exception the most prolific of modern scribblers, was for once hard up +for a subject.</p> + +<p><i>L'hôpital n'est pas pour les chiens</i>, says the French proverb. It +occurred to M. Dumas, that the league or two of books in the +Bibliothèque Royale were not placed there for the mere purpose of +astonishing provincials, or causing English tourists to stare and lift +up their hands in admiration; but that one of the objects of their +preservation might well be, that they should afford suggestions to any +distinguished <i>littérateur</i> who happened to be, like himself, in want +of an idea. Emerging, therefore, from his comfortable abode in the +Chaussée d'Antin, he turned his steps in the direction of the royal +library, and was soon up to his ears in dusty tomes and jaundiced +parchments. After much research, he discovered a folio manuscript, +numbered, as he tells us in his preface, 4772 or 4773, and purporting +to be a memoir, by a certain Count de la Fère, of events that occurred +in France towards the latter part of the reign of Louis the +Thirteenth. Upon perusal, he found this MS. so interesting, that he +applied for, and obtained permission to publish it; and the memoir in +question saw the light under the title of <i>Les Trois Mousquetaires</i>.</p> + +<p>The piquant and interesting matter contained in this book, caused it +to be much read, and numerous persons were curious to see the original +manuscript. To their infinite surprise, however, they could obtain no +account whatever of such a document; and what was still more +provoking, the librarians seemed to look upon them as insane when they +asked for it. There was much running up and down the library stairs, +much mounting upon step-ladders, and tumbling of paper and parchment, +much grumbling of puzzled librarians and disappointed applicants, +until at last, the most obstinate became convinced that the aforesaid +MS. had no existence save in the imagination of M. Dumas, who had, as +it is vulgarly styled, "taken a rise" out of the public.</p> + +<p>In the spring of the year 1625, a young Gascon gentleman named +D'Artagnan, left his home to seek fortune at Paris. He was mounted on +an ill-looking cob, some fourteen years of age—that is to say, +within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> four years as old as its rider; the sword which his father +buckled on him at parting, was more remarkable for its length than its +elegance; his purse contained fifteen crowns, and his valise a couple +of shirts. To compensate for this meagre equipment, he rode like a +Tartar, and fenced like a St George; and was moreover possessed of +three qualifications invaluable to a man who has his way to make in +the world—a clear head, a light heart, and a courage that nothing +could daunt. One thing more he had; a letter of recommendation from +his father to Monsieur de Treville, captain of the mousquetaires, or +body-guards, of his Majesty Louis the Thirteenth.</p> + +<p>Nearly the last words of the worthy old Gascon, who was compelled by +his poverty to send his son forth into the world thus slenderly +provided, were an injunction to honour the King and Cardinal +Richelieu, then in the zenith of his power, and to fight as often as +he could get an opportunity. With such counsels yet ringing in his +ears, it is not surprising, that before reaching Paris young +D'Artagnan gets into a very pretty quarrel against overpowering odds, +is somewhat maltreated, and, while senseless from the blows he has +received, has his letter stolen from him by an emissary of the +Cardinal, among whose political enemies M. de Treville stands in the +foremost rank. The young adventurer, however, consoles himself for his +loss, shakes his feathers, and arrives at Paris without further +accident. Before entering the capital he disposes of his horse, of +whose uncouth appearance he is heartily ashamed; and after improving +his toilet as well as his scanty wardrobe will allow, he proceeds to +the hotel of Monsieur de Treville, where he falls in with the three +mousquetaires who give a title to the book, in which, however, +D'Artagnan plays the most conspicuous and important part. He finds the +hotel Treville throned with applicants for an audience, petitioners, +mousquetaires, and lackeys bearing letters from persons of the first +importance. He sends in his name, and after some delay, is admitted. +Here is M. Dumas' account of the interview.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Monsieur de Treville was that day in a particularly bad humour; +nevertheless he returned D'Artagnan's profound bow with a polite +inclination of the head, and smiled at the strong Gascon accent in +which the young man uttered his compliments. The sound recalled to his +mind his own youth and his native country, two things of which the +recollection is apt to make most men smile. He then waved his hand to +D'Artagnan, as if requesting him to have a moment's patience, and +approaching the door leading to the anteroom, he called out in an +imperious and angry tone—</p> + +<p>"'Athos! Porthos! Aramis!'</p> + +<p>"Two mousquetaires, who had already attracted D'Artagnan's +attention, left the groups of which they formed a part, and +entered the audience chamber, of which the door was immediately +closed behind them.</p> + +<p>"There was a remarkable contrast in the appearance of these two +guardsmen. One was a man of gigantic stature, loud-voiced, and of +stern and haughty countenance; the other, on the contrary, was of +gentle and <i>naïve</i> physiognomy, with smooth rosy cheeks, a soft +expression in his black eye, a delicate mustache on his upper lip, +white hands, and a voice and smile remarkable for their mildness. +The bearing of these two gentlemen upon entering the presence of +their captain, showed a happy mixture of submission and dignity, +which excited the admiration of D'Artagnan, who was already +disposed to look upon the mousquetaires as demigods, and upon +their chief as an Olympic Jupiter, armed with all his thunders.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur de Treville took two or three turns up and down the +apartment, silent, and with a contracted brow, passing each time +before Porthos and Aramis, who remained mute and immoveable as if +upon the parade ground. Suddenly he stopped, and measured them +from head to foot with an angry glance.</p> + +<p>"'Do you know what the King told me, gentlemen, and that no longer +ago than yesternight? Do you know, I say, what his Majesty told +me?'</p> + +<p>"'No,' replied the two guardsmen after a moment's silence. 'No, +sir, we do not know it.'</p> + +<p>"'But I hope you will do us the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> honour to inform us,' said Aramis +in his most polite tone, and with his most graceful bow.</p> + +<p>"'He told me that henceforward he would recruit his mousquetaires +from among the guards of Monsieur le Cardinal.'</p> + +<p>"'Among the guards of Monsieur le Cardinal! And why so?' demanded +Porthos abruptly.</p> + +<p>"'Because he finds that his own sour wine requires to be improved +by the admixture of some more generous liquor.'</p> + +<p>"The two guardsmen coloured up to the eyes. D'Artagnan felt +uncertain whether he was standing on his head or his heels.</p> + +<p>"'Yes,' continued Monsieur de Treville with increased vivacity, +'and his Majesty is right; for, by my honour, the mousquetaires +cut a sorry figure at the court! Monsieur le Cardinal was relating +yesterday at the King's card-table, in a tone of condolence that +displeased me no little, how those infernal mousquetaires, those +<i>sabreurs</i> as he ironically called them, had forgotten themselves +over their bottle at a tavern in the Rue Ferou, and how a patrol +of his guards had found it necessary to arrest them. I thought he +was going to laugh in my face as he said the words, looking at me +all the time with his tiger-cat eyes. <i>Morbleu!</i> you ought to know +something about it. You were amongst them; the cardinal named you. +Mousquetaires, indeed, who allow themselves to be arrested! But it +is my fault for not choosing my men better. What the devil +possessed you, Aramis, to ask me for a guardsman's uniform, when a +priest's surplice would have fitted you better? And you, Porthos, +what is the use of your wearing that magnificent embroidered +sword-belt, if the weapon it supports is of such small service to +you? And Athos, I do not see Athos. Where is he?'</p> + +<p>"'Sir,' replied Aramis gravely, 'he is ill—very ill.'</p> + +<p>"'Ill, say you? And of what disease?'</p> + +<p>"'It is feared that it is the small-pox, sir,' replied Porthos, +who was desirous of putting in a word. 'It would be a great pity, +for it would assuredly spoil his appearance.'</p> + +<p>"'The small-pox! A fine story indeed! The small-pox at his age! +Not so! But wounded, I suppose—killed perhaps. <i>Sangdieu!</i> +Messieurs les Mousquetaires, I insist upon your ceasing to +frequent taverns and places of bad repute. I will have no more +brawling and sword-playing in the public streets. I will not have +my regiment made a laughing-stock to the Cardinal's guards, who +are brave fellows, prudent and quiet—who do not get themselves +into trouble, and if they did, would not allow themselves to be +arrested. Not they! They would sooner die upon the spot than +recede an inch. It is only the King's mousquetaires who run away +or are taken prisoners.'</p> + +<p>"Porthos and Aramis trembled with rage. They would willingly have +strangled their chief, if they had not felt that it was the great +affection he bore them that induced him to speak thus harshly. +They bit their lips till the blood came, and clutched the hilts of +their swords in silent fury. Several of the guardsmen in the +anteroom, who had heard Monsieur de Treville's summons to Athos, +Porthos, and Aramis, and <ins class="correction" title="Original reads 'susspected'">suspected</ins> what was going on, had applied +their ears to the tapestry, and lost not a word of their captain's +reproaches, which they repeated to those around them, who in their +turn repeated them to their comrades on the staircase and in the +courtyard. In an instant, from the anteroom to the street, all was +commotion.</p> + +<p>"'Ha! his Majesty's mousquetaires allow themselves to be arrested +by the Cardinal's guards!' continued Monsieur de Treville, who was +as furious as his soldiers. 'Aha! sirs, six of his Eminence's +guards arrest six of the King's! <i>Morbleu!</i> I have made up my mind +what to do. I will go at once to the Louvre, resign my post as +captain of mousquetaires, and solicit a lieutenancy in the +Cardinal's guards; and if I am refused, <i>morbleu!</i> I will turn +priest!'</p> + +<p>"At these words the murmur outside the audience chamber became an +explosion. On all sides oaths and blasphemies were resounding. +D'Artagnan looked about for a place to hide himself. He felt a +strong inclination to get under the table.</p> + +<p>"'Well, captain,' said Porthos,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> who was completely beside himself +with rage and vexation, 'the truth is that we were six against +six; but they attacked us treacherously; and before we could draw +a sword, two of us were dead men, and Athos desperately wounded +and equally useless. You know Athos, captain; well, twice he tried +to get up, and twice he fell down again. Nevertheless, we did not +yield ourselves prisoners; we were taken off by main force, and on +the way to the guard-house we managed to break away from them. As +to Athos, they thought him dead, and left him on the ground. That +is the real truth of the matter. And what then, captain! One +cannot win every battle. The great Pompey lost that of Pharsalia, +and Francis I., who, from what I have heard, was no fool in the +fighting way, got roughly handled at Pavia.'</p> + +<p>"'And I have the honour to assure you, sir,' said Aramis, 'that I +killed one of the guards with his own sword, for mine was broken +at the first onset.'</p> + +<p>"'I did not know that,' said Treville in a more gentle tone. 'I +see that the Cardinal exaggerated matters.'</p> + +<p>"'But for heaven's sake, sir,' continued Aramis, encouraged by the +softened manner of his commander, 'for heaven's sake, do not +mention that Athos is wounded: he would be in despair if the King +heard of it; and as the wound is very serious, having passed +through the shoulder and entered the breast, it is to be +feared....'</p> + +<p>"At this moment the tapestry that covered the door was raised, and +the head of a man of noble aspect and handsome features, but +fearfully pale, appeared below the fringe.</p> + +<p>"'Athos!' exclaimed the two guardsmen.</p> + +<p>"'Athos!' repeated Monsieur de Treville himself.</p> + +<p>"You asked for me, sir,' said Athos to Monsieur de Treville, in a +calm but enfeebled voice—'my comrades told me that you asked for +me, and I hastened to obey your summons.'</p> + +<p>"And so saying, the mousquetaire entered the room with a tolerably +firm step, in full uniform and belted as usual. Monsieur de +Treville, touched to the soul by this proof of courage, sprang to +meet him.</p> + +<p>"'I was telling these gentlemen,' said he, 'that I forbid my +mousquetaires to expose their lives without necessity; that brave +men are very dear to the King, and his Majesty knows that his +mousquetaires are the bravest men upon the face of the earth. Your +hand, Athos!'</p> + +<p>"And without waiting for the new comer to hold out his right hand, +Monsieur de Treville seized and pressed it energetically, not +observing that Athos, in spite of his command over himself, +writhed with pain, and grew each moment paler than before. The +room-door had remained half open, and a loud murmur of +satisfaction from without replied to the words addressed to Athos +by Monsieur de Treville. The heads of two or three mousquetaires, +who forgot themselves in the enthusiasm of the moment, appeared at +the opening of the tapestry. Doubtless Monsieur de Treville was +about to check sharply this infraction of the laws of etiquette, +when he suddenly felt the hand of Athos contract in his, and +looking at the guardsman, he saw that he was going to faint. At +the same moment Athos, who had summoned all his energies to +struggle against the sufferings he endured, was overcome by the +torture of his wound, and fell senseless to the ground.</p> + +<p>"'A surgeon!' cried Monsieur de Treville. 'My surgeon—the +King's—the best! A surgeon! or, <i>sangdieu!</i> my brave Athos will +die!'"</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p>The swoon of Athos had merely been occasioned by loss of blood. The +surgeon declares there is no danger, and D'Artagnan, who has stood his +ground with true Gascon tenacity, at length obtains an audience. The +loss of his letter of recommendation now proves a great disadvantage +to him. In those days of court intrigue and espionage, men were +naturally suspicious of each other, and the mingled <i>naïveté</i> and +shrewdness of the young Béarnais, are causes for Monsieur de Treville +at first suspecting him of being a spy of the Cardinal's. His +suspicions, however, are wearing off, and he is disposed to be useful +to D'Artagnan, although he cannot admit him into the mousquetaires—a +noviciate of two years in some other regiment being the indispensable +condition<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> of admission into that favoured corps—when D'Artagnan, +happening to look out of the window, starts, reddens with anger, and +rushes to the door. He has recognised, in a passer-by, the person who +had stolen his letter; and leaves Monsieur de Treville in doubt +whether he has to do with a madman or with an emissary of the +Cardinal's, who, fearing himself suspected, takes this pretext for +effecting a retreat.</p> + +<p>In his hurry to leave the hotel and pursue his robber, D'Artagnan gets +into all sorts of scrapes. On the landing-place he runs against Athos, +who is returning home after having his wound dressed. Some hasty words +pass, a challenge is the result, and rendezvous is taken for noon in a +field near the Carmelite convent, then a favourite duelling ground. In +the gateway of the courtyard, Porthos is talking with one of his +comrades, and D'Artagnan, in trying to pass between them, gets +entangled in the velvet cloak of the former, and discovers, what the +guardsman had been most anxious to conceal, that the front only of his +embroidered shoulder-belt was gold, and the back mere leather. +Porthos, not having sufficient pistoles to purchase a whole belt, had +gratified his vanity with half a one, and wore his cloak to conceal +the deficiency. The young Gascon finds himself with a second duel on +his hands, and sets himself down as a dead man. Meantime his robber +has disappeared, and as D'Artagnan is proceeding in the direction of +his lodging, he encounters Aramis, standing in the middle of the +street with some other gentlemen. Furious with himself for the follies +he has been committing, D'Artagnan has made a resolution to be all +things to all men, at least for the hour or two that he still has to +live; and observing that Aramis has dropped a handkerchief, and placed +his foot upon it, he hastens to drag it from under his boot, and +present it to him with a most gracious bow and smile. A coronet and +cipher on the embroidered cambric attract notice, and draw down a +shower of raillery upon the head of the mousquetaire, who, in order to +shield the honour of a lady, is compelled to deny that the +handkerchief is his. His companions walk away, and Aramis reproaches +D'Artagnan with his officiousness. The Gascon blood gets up, good +resolutions are forgotten, and a third rendezvous is the result.</p> + +<p>M. Dumas is never more at home than in the description of duels. +Himself an excellent swordsman, he luxuriates and excels in the +description of points and parries, cartes and tierces, and of the +vigorous estocades which his heroes administer to each other. One of +the good chapters of the book—and there are many such—is the one in +which D'Artagnan encounters the three redoubtable champions whom he +has so heedlessly provoked. We will endeavour, by abridgement, to lay +it before our readers.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"D'Artagnan knew nobody at Paris, and betook himself, therefore, +to his first rendezvous without seconds, intending to content +himself with those whom his adversary should bring. Moreover, his +firm intention was to make all reasonable apologies to Athos, +fearing that there would result from this duel the usual +consequence of an encounter between a young and vigorous man and +a wounded and feeble one—if the former is conquered, his +antagonist's triumph is doubled; and if he conquers, he is +accused of taking an advantage, or of being brave at small risk. +Besides this, either we have been unsuccessful in the exposition +of our young adventurer's character, or the reader will have +already perceived that D'Artagnan was no ordinary man. Thus, +although he repeated to himself that his death was inevitable, he +by no means made up his mind to fall an easy sacrifice, as one +less cool and courageous than himself might perhaps have done. He +reflected on the different characters of the three men with whom +he had to fight, and began to think that his case was not so +desperate as it might have been. He hoped, by the candid and +loyal apology which he intended to offer, to make himself a +friend of Athos, whose austere mien and noble air pleased him +greatly. He flattered himself that he should be able to +intimidate Porthos by the affair of the shoulder-belt, which he +could, if not killed upon the spot, relate to every body, and +which would cover the giant with ridicule. Finally, he did not +feel much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> afraid of Aramis, and he resolved, if he lived long +enough, either to kill him, or at least to administer to him a +wound in the face, that would considerably impair the beauty of +which he was evidently so proud.</p> + +<p>"When D'Artagnan arrived in sight of the waste land adjoining the +convent of barefooted Carmelites, noon was striking, and Athos +was already on the ground. The guardsman, who still suffered +cruelly from his wound, was seated on a post, and awaiting his +adversary with the calm countenance and dignified air that never +abandoned him. Upon D'Artagnan's appearance, he rose courteously, +and advanced a few steps to meet him. Our Gascon, on his side, +made his approach hat in hand, the plume trailing on the earth.</p> + +<p>"'Sir,' said Athos, 'I have given notice to two gentlemen to act +as my seconds, but they are not come. I am surprised at it, for +they are usually punctual.'</p> + +<p>"'For my part, sir,' returned D'Artagnan, 'I have no seconds. I +arrived in Paris yesterday, and know no one but Monsieur de +Treville, to whom I was recommended by my father, who has the +honour to be a friend of his.'</p> + +<p>"Athos glanced at the beardless chin and youthful mien of his +adversary, and seemed to reflect for a moment.</p> + +<p>"'<i>Ah ça</i>!' said he at last, speaking half to himself and half to +D'Artagnan; '<i>ah ça</i>! but if I kill you, it will be something +very like child-murder.'</p> + +<p>"'Not exactly, sir,' replied D'Artagnan, with a bow that was not +without its dignity; 'not exactly, sir, since you do me the +honour to meet me with a wound by which you must be greatly +inconvenienced.'</p> + +<p>"Inconvenienced certainly, and you hurt me terribly, I must +acknowledge, when you ran against me just now; but I will use my +left hand, according to my custom in such circumstances. Do not +suppose on that account that I am sparing you; I fight decently +with both hands, and a left-handed swordsman is an awkward +antagonist when one is not prepared for him. I am sorry I did not +tell you of it sooner, that you might have got your hand in +accordingly.'</p> + +<p>"'Truly, sir,' said D'Artagnan, with another bow, 'I know not how +to express my gratitude for such courtesy.'</p> + +<p>"'You are too obliging to say so,' returned Athos, with his +princely air; 'let us talk of something else, if not disagreeable +to you. Ah, <i>sangbleu</i>! you hurt me terribly! My shoulder burns.'</p> + +<p>"'If you would permit me,' said D'Artagnan, timidly.</p> + +<p>"'What then, sir?'</p> + +<p>"'I have a balm that is wonderfully efficacious in the cure of +wounds. I hold the recipe from my mother, and have myself +experienced its good effects.'</p> + +<p>"'Well?'</p> + +<p>"'Well, I am sure that in less than three days it would heal your +wound; and at the end of that time, sir, it would still be a +great honour for me to meet you.'</p> + +<p>"D'Artagnan said these words with a simplicity that did credit to +his natural courtesy of feeling, at the same time that it could +not give rise to the slightest doubt of his courage.</p> + +<p>"'<i>Pardieu</i>, sir!' said Athos, 'your proposition pleases me, not +that I can accept it, but because it is that of a chivalrous +gentleman. It is thus that spoke and acted those heroes of +Charlemagne's days, on whom every cavalier should strive to model +himself. Unfortunately we do not live in the times of the great +emperor, but in those of Cardinal Richelieu; and however well we +might keep our secret, it would be known before three days had +elapsed that we intended to fight, and our duel would be +prevented. <i>Ah ça</i>! where can those idlers be?'</p> + +<p>"'If you are in haste, sir,' resumed D'Artagnan with the same +simplicity with which he had a moment before proposed to put off +the duel for three days—'if you are pressed for time, and that +it pleases you to finish with me at once, let me beg of you to do +so.'</p> + +<p>"'Another proposal that I like,' said Athos with an approving nod +of the head; 'it is that of a man lacking neither wit nor valour. +Sir, I like men of your stamp; and I see that if we do not kill +one another, I shall hereafter have much pleasure in your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +society. But let us wait for these gentlemen, I beg of you. I +have plenty of time, and it will be more according to rule. Ha! +here comes one of them.'</p> + +<p>"At that moment the gigantic form of Porthos appeared at the +extremity of the Rue Vaugirard.</p> + +<p>"'What!' cried D'Artagnan, 'Monsieur Porthos is one of your +seconds?'</p> + +<p>"'Yes; is it disagreeable to you?'</p> + +<p>"'By no means.'</p> + +<p>"'And here is the other.'</p> + +<p>"D'Artagnan turned his head and recognised Aramis.</p> + +<p>"'What!' he exclaimed in still greater astonishment, 'Monsieur +Aramis is the other?'</p> + +<p>"'Certainly; do you not know that we are never seen asunder, and +are known in court, camp, and city, as Athos, Porthos, and +Aramis, or the three inseparables? But you are just arrived from +Gascony, which accounts for your being unacquainted with these +circumstances.'</p> + +<p>"Meanwhile Porthos, who had abandoned his cloak and changed his +shoulder-belt, approached, nodded to Athos, but on beholding +D'Artagnan, remained struck with astonishment.</p> + +<p>"'This is the gentleman I am to fight with,' said Athos +indicating D'Artagnan with his hand, at the same time bowing to +him.</p> + +<p>"'It is with him that I am to fight,' said Porthos.</p> + +<p>"'Not till one o'clock,' said D'Artagnan.</p> + +<p>"'And I also,' said Aramis, who just then came up.</p> + +<p>"'Our appointment was for two o'clock,' said D'Artagnan with +perfect composure.</p> + +<p>"'What are you going to fight about, Athos?' asked Aramis.</p> + +<p>"'Faith, I can hardly tell you. He hurt my shoulder. And you, +Porthos?'</p> + +<p>"'I fight because I am so minded,' replied Porthos colouring.</p> + +<p>"Athos, whom nothing escaped, saw a slight smile curling +D'Artagnan's lip.</p> + +<p>"'We had a dispute about dress,' said the young Gascon.</p> + +<p>"'And you, Aramis?' asked Athos.</p> + +<p>"'A theological difference,' replied Aramis, making a sign to +D'Artagnan that he wished the cause of their duel to remain a +secret.</p> + +<p>"'Indeed!' said Athos looking at D'Artagnan.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, a point of St Augustin on which we are not agreed,' said +the latter.</p> + +<p>"'Decidedly he is a man of wit and sense,' muttered Athos to +himself.</p> + +<p>"'And now that you are all assembled, gentlemen,' said +D'Artagnan, 'allow me to apologise to you.'</p> + +<p>"At the word apologise, a cloud passed across the features of +Athos, Porthos smiled contemptuously, Aramis made a negative +sign.</p> + +<p>"'You do not understand me, gentlemen,' said D'Artagnan raising +his head proudly. 'I only apologise in case I should not be able +to pay my debt to all of you; for Monsieur Athos has the right to +kill me the first, which greatly diminishes the value of my debt +to you, Monsieur Porthos, and renders that to Monsieur Aramis +nearly worthless. And now, gentlemen, I say again, accept my +apologies, but on that account only—and to work!'</p> + +<p>"And so saying, he drew his sword with the most fearless and +gallant mien possible to be seen. His blood was up, and at that +moment he would have fought not only Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, +but the whole regiment of mousquetaires.</p> + +<p>"'When you please, sir,' said Athos, putting himself on guard.</p> + +<p>"'I was waiting your orders,' returned D'Artagnan.</p> + +<p>"But the two rapiers had scarcely clashed together, when five of +the Cardinal's guards, commanded by Monsieur de Jussac, appeared +from behind a corner of the convent.</p> + +<p>"'The Cardinal's guards!' exclaimed Porthos and Aramis. 'Sheath +your swords, gentlemen!'</p> + +<p>"But it was too late. The combatants had been seen in an attitude +that left no doubt as to their pugnacious intentions.</p> + +<p>"'Hola!' cried Jussac advancing towards them, followed by his +men. 'Hola, mousquetaires! fighting here? And the edicts. We have +forgotten them, eh?'</p> + +<p>"'Your generosity is really remarkable, gentlemen of the +guards,'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> said Athos bitterly, for Jussac had been one of the +aggressors in the recent affray. 'I promise you that if we saw +you fighting we would not interrupt you. Leave us alone, then, +and you will have your amusement for nothing.'</p> + +<p>"'Gentlemen,' said Jussac, 'I am grieved to tell you that the +thing is impossible. Duty before every thing. Be pleased to +sheath your swords, and follow us.'</p> + +<p>"'Sir,' replied Aramis, parodying Jussac's manner, 'we should +have the greatest pleasure in accepting your polite invitation, +if it depended upon us so to do, but unfortunately the thing is +impossible; Monsieur de Treville has forbidden it. Move on, +therefore; it is the best thing you can do.'</p> + +<p>"This bantering exasperated Jussac. 'We will charge you,' said +he, 'if you disobey.'</p> + +<p>"'They are five,' said Athos in a low voice, 'and we are but +three; we shall be beaten again, and we must die here; for I +swear not to reappear before the captain if conquered.'</p> + +<p>"Athos, Porthos, and Aramis drew closer to each other. Jussac was +arranging his men in line. This single moment of delay was +sufficient for D'Artagnan to make up his mind; it was one of +those moments that decide a man's whole life. The choice was to +be made between King and Cardinal, and, once made, it must be +persevered in. If he fought, he disobeyed the law, risked his +head, and made an enemy of a minister more powerful than the king +himself. All these considerations passed like lightning through +the mind of the young Gascon; but, be it said to his honour, he +did not hesitate an instant. Turning towards Athos and his +friends.</p> + +<p>"'Gentlemen,' said he, 'allow me to amend the words last spoken. +You said you were only three, but to my thinking we are four.'</p> + +<p>"'But you are not one of us,' said Porthos.</p> + +<p>"'True,' replied D'Artagnan, 'I have not the coat; but I have the +spirit. In my heart I am a mousquetaire—I feel it, and that +leads me on.'</p> + +<p>"'You may retire, young man,' cried Jussac, who doubtless guessed +D'Artagnan's intentions by his gestures and the expression of his +face. 'You may retire, we permit it. Be-gone, then, and quickly.'</p> + +<p>"D'Artagnan did not stir.</p> + +<p>"'Decidedly you are a fine fellow,' said Athos, pressing the +young man's hand.</p> + +<p>"But the three mousquetaires thought of D'Artagnan's youth, and +distrusted his inexperience.</p> + +<p>"'We should only be three, of whom one wounded, and a child,' +said Athos; 'but they will say all the same, that there were four +of us.'</p> + +<p>"'Gentlemen,' said D'Artagnan, 'only try me, and I swear by my +honour that if we are conquered I will not leave the ground +alive.'</p> + +<p>"'What is your name, my brave fellow?' said Athos.</p> + +<p>"'D'Artagnan, sir.'</p> + +<p>"'Well, then, Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan, forwards!' +cried Athos.</p> + +<p>"'What do you decide to do?' cried Jussac.</p> + +<p>"'We are going to have the honour of charging you,' said Aramis, +raising his hat with one hand and drawing his sword with the +other.</p> + +<p>"And the nine combatants precipitated themselves on each other +with a fury that did not exclude a certain degree of method. +Athos took one Cahusac, a favourite of the Cardinal's; Porthos +had Bicarat; and Aramis found himself opposed to two adversaries. +As to D'Artagnan, he encountered Jussac himself.</p> + +<p>"The heart of the young Gascon beat high, not with fear, there +was no shadow of it, but with emulation; he fought like an +enraged tiger, turning about his enemy, changing each moment his +ground and his guard. Jussac was one of the good blades of the +day, and had had much practice; but he had, nevertheless, all the +difficulty in the world to defend himself against a supple and +active antagonist, who was constantly deviating from the received +rules of fencing, attacking him on all sides at once, and +parrying, at the same time, like a man who had the greatest +regard for his epidermis. At last Jussac lost patience. Furious +at being thus kept at bay by one whom he looked upon as a child, +his <i>sang-froid</i> abandoned him, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> began to commit blunders. +D'Artagnan, who, although lacking practice, was perfect in +theory, redoubled his agility. Jussac, with the design of +finishing him at once, delivered a terrible thrust, which +D'Artagnan parried adroitly, and, before his opponent could raise +himself, he glided like a serpent under his guard, and passed his +sword through his body. Jussac fell heavily to the earth.</p> + +<p>"D'Artagnan now cast an uneasy and rapid glance over the field of +battle. Aramis had already killed one of his adversaries. The +other gave him plenty to do, but Aramis was able to take care of +himself. Bicarat and Porthos were wounded; Porthos in the arm, +and Bicarat in the thigh. But neither wound was serious, and the +sight of their blood made them fight all the better. There was no +need to interfere there. Athos, wounded again by Cahusac, was +growing each moment paler, but he did not give way an inch. He +had changed his sword to his left hand. D'Artagnan caught his eye +as he was looking to see who most required his aid. The look of +the wounded mousquetaire was most eloquent; he would have died +sooner than call for assistance, but his glance said how much he +stood in need of it. With a single bound, D'Artagnan was upon +Cahusac's flank.</p> + +<p>"'Have a care, sir guardsman,' cried he, 'or I slay you on the +spot.'</p> + +<p>"Cahusac turned to face his new opponent. It was high time, for +Athos, who had only been sustained by his extreme courage, sank +upon one knee.</p> + +<p>"'<i>Sangdieu!</i>' cried he to D'Artagnan, 'do not kill him, young +man, I beg of you; I have an old quarrel to terminate with him +when my wound is healed. Disarm him only—So—Well done!'</p> + +<p>"This last exclamation was caused by Cahusac's sword, which flew +from his hand to a distance of twenty paces. D'Artagnan and +Cahusac rushed to pick it up, but D'Artagnan reached it first, +and put his foot upon it. Cahusac ran to the guardsman whom +Aramis had killed, took his rapier, and was returning to +D'Artagnan; but on his road he met Athos, who had taken breath +during the moment's respite which the latter had procured him, +and now recommenced the fight, fearing that the Gascon would kill +his enemy. D'Artagnan saw that he should disoblige him by again +interfering. A few seconds later, Cahusac fell with a wound +through the throat. At the same moment Aramis placed his sword's +point on the breast of his prostrate adversary, and forced him to +sue for mercy.</p> + +<p>"Porthos and Bicarat alone remained. Porthos, while fighting, +indulged in all sorts of fanfarronades, asking Bicarat what time +of day it was, and complimenting him on the company which his +brother had just attained in the regiment of Navarre. In spite of +his jests, however, he did not gain ground. Bicarat was a +stubborn and skilful opponent. It was time to bring matters to a +conclusion before some patrol should arrive, and take both +royalists and cardinalists into custody. Athos, Aramis, and +D'Artagnan, surrounded Bicarat, and summoned him to surrender. +Although alone against four, and with a wound through the thigh, +he would not give in, though Jussac, who had raised himself on +his elbow, called out to him to yield. Bicarat was a Gascon, like +D'Artagnan; he only laughed, and pretended not to hear, at the +same time pointing to the ground at his feet. 'Here will die +Bicarat,' said he, 'the last of those who are with him.'</p> + +<p>"'But they are four against you,' cried Jussac; 'I order you to +desist.'</p> + +<p>"'Ah, if you order me, it is another affair!' said Bicarat; 'you +are my superior, and I must obey.'</p> + +<p>"And giving a spring backwards, he broke his sword across his +knee, in order not to yield it up, threw the pieces over the +convent wall, and, crossing his arms, whistled a Cardinalist air.</p> + +<p>"Courage is always respected even in an enemy. The mousquetaires +saluted Bicarat with their swords, and returned them to their +scabbards. D'Artagnan did the same, and, assisted by Bicarat, he +carried under the convent porch Jussac, Cahusac, and that one of +Aramis's adversaries who was only wounded. The other, as already +observed, was dead. They then rang the bell, and left the ground; +the mousquetaires and D'Artagnan,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> intoxicated with joy, carrying +away four swords out of five, and taking the direction of +Monsieur de Treville's hotel. Every mousquetaire whom they met, +and informed of what had happened, turned back and accompanied +them; so that at last their march was like a triumphal +procession. D'Artagnan was beside himself with delight; he walked +between Athos and Porthos, holding an arm of each.</p> + +<p>"'If I am not yet a mousquetaire,' said he to his new friends, as +they crossed the threshold of the Hotel Treville, 'I may at least +say that I am received apprentice.'"</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p>The result of this affair is to procure D'Artagnan the favour of +Monsieur de Treville and the King—the latter of whom dislikes the +Cardinal in secret nearly as much as he fears him. The young Gascon +has an audience of Louis the Just, who recruits his finances by the +present of a handful of pistoles; and a few days later he is appointed +to a cadetship in the company of guards of the Chevalier des Essarts, +a brother-in-law of Treville. According to the singular ideas of those +days, there was nothing degrading to a gentleman in receiving money +from the king's hand. D'Artagnan, therefore, pockets the pistoles with +many thanks, and takes an early opportunity of dividing them with his +friends with the mythological names, Messieurs Athos, Porthos, and +Aramis, who, according to the custom of mousquetaires, have more gold +upon their coats than in their purses. The courage and good qualities +of the Gascon have won the hearts of the three guardsmen, and he is +admitted to make a fourth in their brotherhood, of which the motto is, +"<i>Un pour tous, et tous pour un</i>." All is in common amongst +them—pleasures, perils, pistoles.</p> + +<p>The characters of the three mousquetaires are well sketched and +sustained, and illustrate admirably the vices, virtues, and +propensities of their time and station. Aramis, who was originally +intended for the church, has relinquished the black coat of an abbé in +order to fight a nobleman who had insulted him. He still, however, +persists in considering himself as a guardsman only <i>pro tempore</i>; and +whenever fortune or his mistress frowns upon him, he declares his +intention of abandoning his sinful mode of life, and throwing himself +into the arms of mother church. Vanity is the failing of Porthos, who +shines more by his imposing appearance, brilliant attire, and bull-dog +courage, than by any qualities of the head. To Athos, who is the most +interesting of the three, a certain mystery is attached, which, +however, is seen through early in the book. He is a man of high birth, +princely manners, and chivalrous feeling, but whose stormy life has +cast a strong tinge of melancholy over his character, and who now +finds his sole consolation in the wine-cup. It must not be therefore +supposed that Athos is a sot, a wallower in wine, or a haunter of +tavern orgies. He drinks, it is true, enough to prostrate any three +ordinary men; but he takes his liquor, as he does every thing else, so +much like a gentleman, and, moreover, there is so much self-devotion +and generosity in his character, such dignity of manner and rectitude +of feeling—his temper so even and kindly—his courage so heroic—that +he is unquestionably the most amiable and interesting of the <i>dramatis +personæ</i>, preferable to D'Artagnan, to whom premature worldly wisdom +gives a hardness bordering upon egotism. While Aramis is sighing +sonnets to his mistress, and Porthos parading on the crown of the +causeway in all the glory of gold lace and embroidery, Athos sits +tranquilly at home, and says, like Gregory in the Deserter—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"J'aime mieux boire."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>His real name—for Athos, Porthos, and Aramis are merely assumed +ones—is known only to the King and to Monsieur de Treville.</p> + +<p>It would be difficult within the limits of this paper to give an idea +of the entire plot of the <i>Three Mousquetaires</i>, which is, in fact, +less a tale with a regular intrigue and <i>dénouement</i>, than a narrative +of adventures and incidents, extending over a period of nearly three +years. D'Artagnan, whose enterprising character and Gascon acuteness +qualify him admirably to take a part in the court intrigues of the +time, soon finds himself almost at open war with the Cardinal, and +en<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>gaged in serving the interests of Louis the Thirteenth's unhappy +queen, Anne of Austria, who, by rejecting the suit of the scarlet +duke—as the mousquetaires irreverently style the Cardinal Duke of +Richelieu—has drawn upon herself the deadly hatred of that omnipotent +personage. The Duke of Buckingham, who is madly in love with the +queen, visits Paris in disguise, and obtains an interview with her. At +parting, he implores her to give him some trifle, which he may +preserve as a <i>souvenir</i> of their attachment; and Anne of Austria +gives him the first thing that comes to hand, which happens to be a +jewel-case, containing twelve diamond clasps or <i>ferrets</i> that she has +lately received from the King. The Cardinal, omnipresent by his spies, +learns this; manages adroitly to rouse the king's jealousy; and +prevails on him to give a ball, at which the queen is desired to +appear, wearing the ferrets in question. Anne of Austria is in +despair. To obtain the restitution of the jewels within the eight days +that have to elapse before the one fixed for the ball, appears +impossible. Buckingham is in England; if she writes, her letter will +be intercepted by the Cardinal; if she sends, her messenger will be +stopped. Nothing could at that time be done in France without coming +to the knowledge of Richelieu. In her extremity she is induced to +confide in one of her attendants, with whom D'Artagnan is in love; and +a few hours later, the intrepid Gascon and his three inseparable +friends set out for England, provided with a leave of absence from +Monsieur de Treville, and attended by their four lackeys. D'Artagnan +alone knows the object of their journey; but the others, confiding +implicitly in his judgment, and bound, moreover, by the rules of their +association, ask no questions, and willingly brave the dangers that +the Cardinal strews in their path. It is agreed that, in case of +rencontres by the way, the dead or wounded are to be left to their +fate, and the others are to push on without an instant's delay. Should +D'Artagnan fall, the survivors are to take from his pocket the queen's +letter to Buckingham, and continue their route.</p> + +<p>The adventurers are not allowed to proceed far without molestation. +They stop to breakfast, and a stranger picks a quarrel with Porthos, +who stays behind to fight him, and does not rejoin them. Near Beauvais +they receive a volley from some pretended labourers; D'Artagnan's hat +is knocked off by a ball; a lackey is left in the road, and Aramis is +badly wounded, and obliged to remain at the next town. D'Artagnan, +Athos, and their two attendants, reach Amiens at midnight, and stop to +sleep at the sign of the Golden Lily. Here various suspicious +incidents occur, and in the morning their horses are found to be +dead-lame, and unable to proceed. One that might still have gone on +has been bled by mistake.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"All these accidents succeeding each other began to alarm our +travellers; they might be the result of chance, but they were +more probably that of an organized plot. Athos and <ins class="correction" title="Original reads 'd'Artagnan'">D'Artagnan</ins> +left their room, while Planchet (D'Artagnan's groom) went to +enquire whether there were any horses to be bought in the +neighbourhood. At the door were standing two vigorous animals, +saddled and bridled, and which would have suited the guardsmen +well. Planchet asked to whom they belonged, and was told that +their masters had passed the night at the inn, and were then +paying their score previous to departure. Athos went to do the +same, while D'Artagnan and Planchet remained at the street door.</p> + +<p>"The host was in a small back room, which Athos was requested to +enter. He did so without suspicion, and took out some pistoles to +pay. The innkeeper, who was seated at a desk, of which one of the +drawers was half-open, took the money, turned it about, and +examined it on all sides, and suddenly exclaiming that it was +false, declared that he would have Athos and his companion +arrested as coiners.</p> + +<p>"'Scoundrel!' cried Athos, advancing towards him; 'I will cut +your ears off for your insolence.'</p> + +<p>"But the man stooped down, took a brace of pistols out of the +open drawer, and pointing them at Athos, called loudly for help. +On the instant four armed men entered by a side-door, and +attacked Athos.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>"'I am taken!' cried the mousquetaire, with all the power of his +lungs. 'To horse, D'Artagnan! Spur! spur!'</p> + +<p>"And he fired both his pistols. D'Artagnan and Planchet untied +the two horses that were waiting at the door, sprang upon their +backs, and set off full gallop.</p> + +<p>"By dint of spurring and precaution, D'Artagnan and his follower +reach Calais without further accident; the horse of the former +falling dead within a hundred yards of the town. They hasten to +the port, and find themselves close to a gentleman and his +servant, dusty and travel-stained, who are enquiring for a vessel +to take them to England. The master of a sloop that is ready to +sail informs them, that an order had arrived that very morning to +prevent any ship from leaving the harbour without an express +permission from the Cardinal.</p> + +<p>"'I have that permission,' said the gentleman, taking a paper +from his pocket.</p> + +<p>"'Very good!' said the sailor. 'Get it countersigned by the +governor of the port, and give me the preference.'</p> + +<p>"'Where shall I find the governor?'</p> + +<p>"'At his country-house, a quarter of a league from the town. You +see it yonder. A slated roof at the foot of a little hill.'"</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p>The gentleman and his attendant take the direction of the governor's +house. D'Artagnan follows them; picks a quarrel with the stranger, who +is a certain Count de Wardes, an adherent of the Cardinal's, wounds +him desperately, himself receiving a scratch, takes the pass, gets it +countersigned, and proceeds to England. The Duke of Buckingham is +hunting at Windsor with the king; but the indefatigable Gascon follows +him thither, and delivers his letter. The duke hurries with him to +London to give him the ferrets; but, to his unspeakable consternation, +finds that two out of the twelve are missing. They had been cut from +his dress by an emissary of the Cardinal's at a ball at Windsor +Castle, at which he had worn the queen's present. The ferrets are of +immense value, and difficult workmanship. Buckingham sends for his +jeweller, who demands eight days and three thousand pistoles to +replace the missing ornaments. The duke locks him up in a room, with +his tools and a workman, and allows him six thousand pistoles, and +thirty-six hours to complete then. The ferrets are ready within the +prescribed period. Furnished with a password from the duke, who has +trusty agents in France, D'Artagnan reaches Paris by a different road +and without impediment, arriving in time to save the queen, who +appears at the ball with her twelve ferrets, to the vast discomfiture +of the Cardinal. Meanwhile D'Artagnan's mistress had been spirited +away by Richelieu, and the young Gascon is in despair. He confides his +misfortunes to Monsieur de Treville, who promises to do what he can to +find the lady, and advises D'Artagnan to leave Paris till the +Cardinal's wrath is a little blown over. D'Artagnan takes his advice; +bethinks him of the three mousquetaires, and sets out to look for +them. He finds Porthos and Aramis where he left them, nearly recovered +from their wounds; and proceeding to Amiens, enters the hotel of the +Golden Lily, and confronts the host—his whip in his right hand, his +left on his sword-hilt, and evidently meaning mischief.</p> + +<p>The innkeeper, however, turns out to be more an object of pity than +blame. Previously to the arrival of D'Artagnan and Athos on their way +to England, he had received information from the authorities, that a +party of coiners, disguised as guardsmen, would arrive at his inn, and +that he was to take measures to arrest them. The six men who brought +him these orders disguised themselves as servants and stable-boys, and +remained to assist in the capture. In the skirmish, Athos shot two of +them, wounded a third, cut the host across the face with the flat of +his sword, and retreated fighting to the cellar stairs. Entering the +cellar, he pulled the door to and barricaded it. His assailants left +the house, carrying off their killed and wounded; and when the +innkeeper, recovering a little from his alarm, went to inform the +governor of what had occurred, the latter declared himself totally +ignorant of the whole business, denied that he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> given orders to +arrest any coiners, and threatened to hang the unlucky host if he +mixed up his name in the affair.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'But, Athos!' cried D'Artagnan, losing all patience at the +innkeeper's prolixity,—'Athos, what is become of him?'</p> + +<p>"'I was eager to repair my wrongs towards the gentleman,' replied +the innkeeper, 'and hurried to the cellar to set him at liberty. +But on my declaring what I came for, he swore it was only a snare +laid for him, and insisted upon making his conditions before he +came out. I told him very humbly—for I was aware of the scrape +into which I had got myself by my violence towards one of the +King's mousquetaires—that I was ready to submit to them.'</p> + +<p>"'In the first place,' said he, 'I must have my servant delivered +to me, fully armed.'</p> + +<p>"His order was obeyed, and Monsieur Grimaud was taken down to the +cellar, wounded as he was. His master received him, barricaded +the door again, and bid us go to the devil.</p> + +<p>"'But where is he?' cried D'Artagnan. 'Where is Athos?'</p> + +<p>"'In the cellar, sir.'</p> + +<p>"'Scoundrel! you have kept him all this time in the cellar?'</p> + +<p>"'Good heavens, sir! <i>I</i> keep him in the cellar! You do not know +what he is doing there, or you would not suppose it. If you can +prevail upon him to come out, I shall be grateful to you to the +last day of my life; I will adore you as my guardian angel.'</p> + +<p>"'I shall find him there, then?'</p> + +<p>"'Certainly you will, sir—he won't come out. Every day we are +obliged to hand him down bread at the end of a hay-fork, and meat +too, when he asks for it. But, alas! it is not of bread and meat +that he makes the largest consumption. I tried once to enter the +cellar with two of my servants, and he put himself in a most +terrible passion. I heard him and his lackey cocking their +pistols and carbine; and when we asked what their intentions +were, your friend said that they had forty shots to fire, and +that they would fire every one before allowing us to enter the +cellar. I then went to complain to the governor, and he told me +that I had only got what I deserved, and that it would teach me +to maltreat honourable gentlemen who used my house.'</p> + +<p>"'So that, since that time....' said D'Artagnan, who could not +help laughing at the pitiable countenance of the host.</p> + +<p>"'Since that time, sir,' continued the latter, 'we lead the most +wretched life imaginable; for you must know that all our +provisions are in the cellar, our wine in bottle and our wine in +cask, beer, oil, and spices, hams and sausages; and as we cannot +get at them, we are unable to give food or drink to the +travellers who alight here, and our inn is losing all its custom. +If your friend stops one week longer in my cellar, I am a ruined +man.'</p> + +<p>"'And quite right that you should be, scoundrel! It was easy to +see by our appearance, that we were men of quality and not +coiners.'</p> + +<p>"'Yes, sir, you are right,' replied poor Boniface. 'But only +listen to him, he is getting into a passion.'</p> + +<p>"'Doubtless somebody has disturbed him,' said D'Artagnan.</p> + +<p>"'We are obliged to disturb him,' cried the host; 'two English +gentlemen have just arrived. The English, as you know, love good +wine, and these have asked for the best. My wife is gone to beg +Monsieur Athos to let her in, and he has no doubt refused as +usual. Holy Virgin! What a racket he is making.'</p> + +<p>"D'Artagnan rose from his seat, and followed by the host and by +Planchet with his cocked carbine, took the direction of the +cellar, whence a tremendous noise was proceeding. The Englishmen +were exasperated; they had just come off a long journey, and were +dying of hunger and thirst.</p> + +<p>"'It is perfect tyranny,' cried they in very good French, 'that +this madman will not allow these good people the use of their +wine. But we will break open the door, and if he is too furious, +we will kill him.'</p> + +<p>"'Not so fast, gentlemen,' said D'Artagnan, drawing his pistols +from his belt. 'You will kill nobody, if you please.'</p> + +<p>"'Let them come,' said Athos, in his usual calm voice, from the +other side of the door, 'let them come in, and we shall see.'</p> + +<p>"Brave as they appeared to be, the two Englishmen hesitated and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +looked at one another. One might almost have supposed that the +cellar was garrisoned by one of those hungry ogres of the fairy +tale, whose cavern no one could enter with impunity. There was a +moment's silence; but the Englishmen were ashamed to retreat, and +one of them, descending the five or six steps leading to the +cellar, gave the door a kick that made it rattle on its hinges.</p> + +<p>"'Planchet,' said D'Artagnan, cocking his pistols, 'you take the +one at the bottom of the stairs; I will take the other. Since you +are for a fight, gentlemen, you shall have a bellyfull.'</p> + +<p>"'Is that D'Artagnan's voice?' cried Athos.</p> + +<p>"'It is,' replied the Gascon.</p> + +<p>"'Very good,' said Athos, 'we will work them a little, these +door-breakers.'</p> + +<p>"'A moment's patience, Athos,' said D'Artagnan. 'Gentlemen,' he +continued, turning to the Englishmen, 'you are between two fires. +My servant and myself have three shots to fire, you will receive +as many from the cellar, besides which we have got our swords, +with the use of which, I can assure you, my friend and myself are +tolerably well acquainted. Allow me to arrange matters. I give +you my word that you shall have some wine just now.'</p> + +<p>"'If there is any left,' growled Athos in a tone of raillery.</p> + +<p>"'What does he mean—if there is any left?' cried the host, who +felt a cold perspiration break out all over him.</p> + +<p>"'Nonsense, there will be some left,' replied D'Artagnan; 'two +men cannot have drunk the whole cellar out.'</p> + +<p>"The Englishmen sheathed their swords, and D'Artagnan related to +them the history of the imprisonment of Athos, upon hearing which +they greatly blamed the innkeeper.</p> + +<p>"'Now, gentlemen,' said D'Artagnan, 'if you will be pleased to +return to your apartment, in ten minutes you shall have what you +require.'</p> + +<p>"The Englishmen bowed and retired.</p> + +<p>"'I am alone, my dear Athos,' said D'Artagnan.—'Open the door.'</p> + +<p>"There was a great noise of fagots and beams falling down; the +besieged was demolishing his counter-scarps and bastions. The +next moment the door opened, and the pale face of the +mousquetaire appeared. D'Artagnan sprang forward and embraced +him, but when he tried to lead him out of the cellar, he +perceived that Athos staggered.</p> + +<p>"'You are wounded?' cried he.</p> + +<p>"'I! not the least,' was the reply. 'I am dead drunk, that is +all, and never did any man better deserve to be so. Fore God! +mine host, I have drunk for my share, at least one hundred and +fifty bottles.'</p> + +<p>"'Heaven have mercy on me!' cried the host. 'If the servant has +drunk half as much as the master, I am a ruined man.'</p> + +<p>"'Grimaud knows his place too well to drink the same wine as his +master; he has drunk from the cask. By-the-by, I think he must +have forgotten to put in the spigot—I hear a running.'</p> + +<p>"D'Artagnan burst into a fit of laughter. The innkeeper was in a +high fever. Just then Grimaud showed himself behind his master, +his carbine on his shoulder, and his head shaking like that of +the drunken satyr in some of Rubens' pictures. His clothes were +smeared with an unctuous liquid, which the host immediately +recognized as his best olive oil.</p> + +<p>"D'Artagnan and Athos now crossed the common room, and installed +themselves in the best apartment of the hotel; while the +innkeeper and his wife lighted lamps, and rushed into the cellar, +where a frightful spectacle awaited them. In rear of the +fortifications, in which Athos had made a breach for his exit, +and which were composed of fagots, planks, and empty casks, +arranged according to all the rules of strategy, were numerous +pools of oil and wine, in which the bones of the hams that had +been eaten were lying. In one corner was a pile of broken +bottles, and in another a huge cask of wine was just yielding up +the last drops of its blood. Out of fifty large sausages that had +been suspended to the beams of the roof, ten only were remaining. +The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> image of devastation and death, as the ancient poet said, +reigned there as upon a field of battle."</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p>With characteristic generosity and <i>insouciance</i>, Athos forgives the +host, and compensates him for the damage done to his property. The two +guardsmen then sit down to drink, and D'Artagnan tells his friend of +the misfortune he has had in the loss of his mistress.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'Your misfortune makes me laugh,' said Athos, shrugging his +shoulders. 'I wonder what you would say to a love story that I +could tell you.'</p> + +<p>"'Something that happened to yourself?'</p> + +<p>"'Or to one of my friends; no matter.'</p> + +<p>"'Tell it me.'</p> + +<p>"'I would rather drink.'</p> + +<p>"'You can do both.'</p> + +<p>"'True,' said Athos, filling his glass; 'the two things go well +together.'</p> + +<p>"The mousquetaire paused, and seemed to be collecting his +thoughts; and as he did so, D'Artagnan observed that he grew each +moment paler. He had reached that stage of intoxication at which +ordinary drinkers fall under the table and sleep. Athos, however, +did not do that; he dreamed aloud without sleeping. There was +something frightful in this somnambulism of drunkenness.</p> + +<p>"'One of my friends,' he began—'one of my friends, mind you, not +myself,' interrupted he with a gloomy smile; 'a count of my +province, that is to say of Berri, noble as a Dandolo or a +Montmorency, fell in love when twenty-five years of age, with a +young girl of seventeen, beautiful as painters have depicted +Venus. Joined to the <i>naïveté</i> of her age, she possessed the soul +and feeling of a poet; she could not be said to please—she +intoxicated all who approached her. She lived in a little village +with her brother, who was a priest. None knew who they were, nor +whence they came; but she was so beautiful, and her brother so +pious, that none thought of asking. It was rumoured and believed +that they were of good family. My friend, who was lord of that +country, might have seduced the young girl or taken her by force, +as he chose; he was the master; who would have come to the +assistance of two friendless strangers? Unfortunately he was an +honest man, and he married her. The fool-the idiot!'</p> + +<p>"'Why a fool, since he loved her?' asked D'Artagnan.</p> + +<p>"'Patience,' said Athos. 'He conducted her to his castle, and +made her the first lady of the province; and, to do her justice, +she knew perfectly how to support her rank.'</p> + +<p>"'Well?' said D'Artagnan.</p> + +<p>"'Well! one day she was out hunting with her husband,' continued +Athos, speaking in a low tone and very fast, 'she was overcome by +the heat, and fell from her horse in a swoon; the count sprang to +her assistance, and as her clothes seemed to prevent her +breathing, he cut them open with his dagger, and her shoulder was +uncovered. Guess what she had upon her shoulder, D'Artagnan?' +said Athos with a strange wild laugh.</p> + +<p>"'How can I tell?' said D'Artagnan.</p> + +<p>"'A <i>fleur-de-lis</i>. She was branded!'</p> + +<p>"And Athos emptied at a draught the cup that stood before him.</p> + +<p>"'Horror!' exclaimed D'Artagnan. 'What do you tell me?'</p> + +<p>"'The truth—the angel was a devil—the innocent young girl was a +convict.'</p> + +<p>"'And what did the count do?'</p> + +<p>"'The count was a powerful nobleman; he had right of pit and +halter upon his lands; he bared the shoulder of the countess, +tied her hands behind her back, and hung her to a tree.'</p> + +<p>"'Heavens! Athos! a murder!' cried D'Artagnan.</p> + +<p>"'Yes, a murder, nothing more,' said Athos, pale as death. 'But +there is no wine—we are drinking nothing.'</p> + +<p>"And Athos seized the last bottle by the neck, put it to his +mouth, and emptied it as though it had been an ordinary glass."</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p>This strange story, that could hardly have proceeded from any but a +French imagination, is nevertheless very effective, far more so in +Monsieur Dumas' terse and pointed diction than in our imperfect +translation. The dame with the fleur-de-lis on her shoulder is not +dead, but on the contrary married again, and proves<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> to be no other +than an emissary of the Cardinal, a certain Lady de Winter, or Milady, +as M. Dumas persists in calling her. She it was who cut the diamonds +off Buckingham's dress, and informed the Cardinal of the same. +Throughout the whole book she plays the part of a sort of +Mephistopheles in petticoats, doing evil for evil's sake; and finally, +when in prison in England, gains over a fanatical young officer named +Felton, who is set to guard her, and working on him by the power of +her charms and an artfully devised story, instigates him to the murder +of Buckingham, who is at Portsmouth fitting out an armament for the +relief of La Rochelle, then besieged by Richelieu. She escapes to +France, but there falls into the hands of her deadly enemy, +D'Artagnan, and of her first husband, Athos, otherwise Count de la +Fère. Her punishment is one of the last and most striking scenes in +the book, which concludes with the capture of La Rochelle, leaving +D'Artagnan a lieutenant of mousquetaires, and, to all appearance, on +the high-road to further preferment. Some account of his future +fortune is promised us by Monsieur Dumas; and, however alarming a +continuation to a book in eight volumes may sound, we cannot help +wishing he may keep his promise. There is less occasion to be alarmed +at the length of a six or eight volume book from his hands, than at +that of a three volume one from those of many other writers; and +moreover one must take into account the ingenuity of French +publishers, who manage to have the type spread out over the largest +possible amount of white paper. The system of putting little in a +page, and diminishing that little by the interpolation of huge and +apparently objectless blank spaces, has reached its height in Paris; +and, although an imposition on the public, it perhaps renders a book +lighter and pleasanter to read. Light reading and pleasant reading +Monsieur Dumas' romance assuredly is; and we can wish our readers no +better pastime, during the long evenings of this wintry season, than +the perusal of the feats and fortunes of the <i>Trois Mousquetaires</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> +<h3>MARSTON; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A STATESMAN.</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Part</span> XV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"> +"Have I not in my time heard lions roar?<br /> +Have I not heard the sea, puft up with wind,<br /> +Rage like an angry boar chafed with sweat?<br /> +Have I not heard great ordnance in the field,<br /> +And Heaven's artillery thunder in the skies?<br /> +Have I not in the pitched battle heard<br /> +Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets clang?"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18em;"><span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>.</span></div> + + +<p>Valenciennes was now captured. The sagacity of my friend, the French +engineer, had not been deceived. The explosion of the three great +mines, an operation from its magnitude almost new to war, and in its +effects irresistible, had thrown open the fortress. The garrison had +done their work gallantly, and the result was a capitulation, hastened +by the outcry of the famishing inhabitants. I hastened to the quarters +of my regiment, was received with all cordiality, had the honour of an +interview with the royal duke, who, at all times affable, was now in +peculiar good-humour, and who led me into a long detail of such public +opinions as might be gathered from my intercourse with the garrison. +At the close of our interview he gave me a note, which was to be +forwarded to the adjutant-general. I made my bow, and retired.</p> + +<p>All in the camp was festivity. A great achievement had been +accomplished, and the barriers of France were broken down. But in the +midst of national triumph, I felt a depression which rendered me +wholly incapable of sharing it. The wounds of the spirit are not to be +healed like those of the frame; and with the recollection of the noble +creature whom I had lost, bitterness mingled in every sound, and +sight, and exultation. My first request would have been for leave of +absence, that I might follow her, if she were still in France, or in +the world. But the bustle at headquarters told me that some movement +was about to take place; and, under those circumstances, to ask for +leave was impossible. Still I continued making every imaginable +enquiry, dispatching letters, and seeing postmasters, to obtain +intelligence of the route which Clotilde had taken. After tracing her +for the first few leagues, all tidings were lost; and I had only to +trust to that hope which was a part of my sanguine nature, and which +was sustained by a kind of consciousness that a being so superior +could not be flung away in the chances which visit the multitude.</p> + +<p>While I was thus pondering and perplexed, I was summoned to attend one +of the principal officers of his royal highness's staff. "We are +sending despatches of some importance to London," said he, "and it is +the wish of the commander-in-chief that you should take them. I have +the pleasure to tell you, that he feels an interest in you from the +opportunities which you have had of distinguishing yourself in the +campaign, and that he has appointed you an extra aide-de-camp. Your +service begins soon," added my informant with a smile, "for you must +set off to-night. The despatch mentioning the capitulation of the +fortress was, of course, sent off at once; but as the commission, in +those cases, is given by routine, it is desirable to have some one in +London capable of explaining the 'explanation,' or perhaps taking the +place of the 'honourable,' or 'right honourable' personage who has +been made the official bearer of the despatch. His royal highness is +satisfied, from his conversation with you, that you will be perfectly +fit for this purpose; and here is the despatch, with which you are to +make all expedition to the Horse-Guards."</p> + +<p>After giving my orders for the journey, I hastened to take leave of +the man whom I most honoured and esteemed, my unfailing friend +Guiscard. To my surprise, he received the in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>telligence of my +appointment with scarcely a word of congratulation. Little as I myself +was now excitable by any thing in the shape of human fortune, I was +chagrined by his obstinate gravity. He observed it, and started from +his seat. "Come," said he, "let us take a walk, and get out of the +sight of mankind, if we can." He took my arm, and we strayed along the +banks of the Scheldt, where, however, his purpose was unobtainable, +for the whole breadth of the river was covered with the provision +barges of the troops. The bargemen were enjoying the fine July evening +in the national style—swilling the worst beer that ever punished the +taste for that barbarian beverage, and filling the fresh breeze with +the fumes of tobacco, worthy of the beer. Guiscard stopped to gaze at +them.</p> + +<p>"I envy those fellows," said he. "Not merely for their escaping all +care, and being able to extract enjoyment out of their execrable drink +and pipes, but from their being exempt from all contact with +portfolios."</p> + +<p>"But such enjoyment is only that of the swine."</p> + +<p>"Well, and is not that of the swine perfect?—and what would you have +more than perfection?"</p> + +<p>A huge herd of those creatures, basking along the miry edge of the +river, helped his illustration. "Mr Marston, you have not been for the +last month on the staff of the commander-in-chief of the allied +armies, or you would not look so incredulous. Sir, man's senses may be +as suitable for his purposes, as those of the animals which we see +wallowing there." I stared, waiting for the conclusion. He proceeded. +"But man has drawbacks on his natural faculties, which they have not. +Possibly nature intended that we should be as happy as they. But make +nine-tenths of them hewers of wood and drawers of water—send some of +them to dungeons—enforce a conscription among the rest, and send them +to use their tusks upon each other, and the most complacent of them +would rebel: or, as the last trial of temper, put the meekest of the +race into a cabinet of princes and general-officers, themselves +controlled by a cabinet five hundred miles off; and if they do not +growl as I do now, I shall give up all my knowledge of quadruped +nature."</p> + +<p>"Why, Guiscard, what is the matter with you to-night? Have we not +gained our point? You are like the Thracians, who always mourned at +the birth of a child."</p> + +<p>"And the Thracians were perfectly right, if the child were to be +reared a diplomatist. You talk of success!" Our path had led to where +a view of Valenciennes opened on us through the trees; and its +shattered ramparts and curtains, the trees felled along its glacis, +and its bastions stripped and broken by our cannon-balls, certainly +presented a rueful spectacle. The Austrian flag was flying on the +citadel.</p> + +<p>"There," said he, "is our prize. It is not worth the loading of a +single gun; but it has cost us more millions to ruin than it took +francs to build it—it has cost us the conquest of France; and will +cost Europe the war, which we might have extinguished three months ago +if we had but left it behind. I acknowledge that I speak in the +bitterness of my heart; delay has ruined every thing. Our march to +Paris, and our march to Georgium Sidus, will now be finished on the +same day."</p> + +<p>I attempted to laugh off his predictions, but he was intractable. "The +business," said he, "is all over. That flag is the signal of European +jealousy—the apple of discord. Yon are going to England; and, if you +have any regard for my opinion, tell your friends there to withdraw +their troops as soon as they can. That flag, which pretends to +partition France, will unite it as one man. Our sages here are +actually about to play its game. Orders have come to divide the army. +What folly! What inconceivable infatuation! In the very face of the +most fantastic and furious population of mankind, whom the most +trivial success inflames into enthusiasts; they are going to break up +their force, and seek adventures by brigades and battalions."</p> + +<p>He stamped the ground with indignation; but, suddenly recovering his +calmness, he turned to me with his grave smile. "I am ashamed, +Marston, of thus betraying a temper which time ought to have cooled. +But, after<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> all, what is public life but a burlesque; a thing of +ludicrous disappointment; a tragedy, with a farce always at hand to +relieve the tedium and the tinsel; the fall of kingdoms made laughable +by the copper lace of the stage wardrobe?"</p> + +<p>"Do you object to our duke?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. He is personally a gallant fellow; and if he wants +experience, so must every man at one time or other. His only error, +hitherto, has been his condescending to come at all with so small a +force under his command. No English army should ever plant its foot +upon the Continent with less than fifty thousand men on its +muster-roll. The duke's being put at the head of your troops—only a +division after all—seems to me the only wise thing that has been +done. It was a declaration of the heartiness of your alliance; and I +honour your country for the distinctness of the avowal. Your king +gives his son, as your country gives her soldiers, and your people +give their money. The whole was manly, magnanimous, or, as the highest +panegyric, it was English all over."</p> + +<p>This language at once put an end to all my reserve. I shook his hand +in the spirit of old friendship; and, on our parting, extracted a +promise of keeping up our communication on all possible opportunities. +We had already separated, when I heard my name called again, and +Guiscard returned. "I had forgotten," said he, "to tell you what I was +most anxious to say. If I had seen no other prospect for you, I should +be the last man to make you discontented with your profession. My only +request is, that when you once more tread on English ground, you will +seriously consider whether you will continue in the army. If know you +at all, I think that you would not be altogether satisfied with +wearing your epaulettes at reviews and parades. And, if I am not +entirely mistaken, you will have nothing else for the next dozen +years. Your army are moving homewards already. You are now in the +secret."</p> + +<p>"But is the campaign absolutely coming to an end? Are the hopes of +attacking the French so suddenly given up? Is France always to baffle +us?" was my vexed question.</p> + +<p>"As to the fate of France, you should consult a prophet, not a +Prussian engineer—and one terribly tired of his trade besides," was +the reply. We parted; but the conversation was not lost upon me.</p> + +<p>By midnight I was on my journey. My route lay through the Flemish +provinces, which had now recovered all their luxuriance, if not +derived additional animation from the activity which every where +follows the movements of a successful army. Troops marching to join +the general advance frequently and strikingly diversified the scene. +Huge trains of the commissariat were continually on the road. The +little civic authorities were doubly conscious of the dignity of +functions which brought them into contact with soldiership, from the +quartermaster up to the general. But the contrast of the tumult which +I left behind with the quietness of the scenes around me—the haste, +the anxiety, and the restlessness of a huge camp, with the calm of the +fields, with the regularity which seemed to govern all the operations +of farming life, and with the grave opulence of the old mansions, +which seemed to be formed for the natural receptacles of the wealth of +Flemish fields—at once refreshed me after the mental fever in which I +had tossed so long, and perhaps impressed on me more deeply the +parting advice of my friend the philosopher.</p> + +<p>But, from the moment when I touched British ground, the whole sleepy +tranquillity which gathers over every man in the quietude of Flanders, +where man seems to have followed the same plough from the deluge, had +utterly vanished. I was in the midst of a nation in a ferment. The war +was the universal topic; party was in full life. From the inn at Dover +up to the waiting-room at the Horse-Guards, I heard nothing but +politics. The conduct of our army—the absurdity of every thing that +had been done, or left undone—the failures of the Allies—the +fanaticism of the French—the hopes of popular liberty on one side, +and the indignation of established power on the other—came rushing +round me in a chaos of discordant conceptions, that for the time +bewildered me. How simple was the gossip of the camp to this +heterogeneous mass of struggling to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>pics! How straightforward was even +the wild haranguing of the Palais Royal to the thousand reports and +protests, remonstrances and replications, of the whole ringing and +raging, public mind of England! This was the age of pamphleteering. +Every sage who could, or could not, write, flung his pamphlet in the +teeth of the party whose existence he conceived to be ruinous to his +country, or perhaps prejudicial to his own prospect of a sinecure. The +journals printed their columns in gall; the satirists dipped their +pens in concentrated acid; the popular haranguers dashed the oil of +vitriol of contempt in each other's faces. The confusion, the +collision, the uproar, was indescribable.</p> + +<p>But my whole experience of public life has told me, that however the +popular opinion may be wrong, the public opinion is right; and I felt +that the nation was already adverse to the conduct of the campaign. +The utmost skill of the cabinet was required to prevent a dangerous +reaction. The member of administration with whom my chief intercourse +officially existed, was the same manly and kind-natured individual to +whom I had formerly been indebted for so much civility; and, as if +proud of his own work, his civility now took the form of friendship. +Ill news came from abroad; and I expressed my impatience of remaining +with the pen in my hand, when I should have worn my sword. To all my +suggestions on the subject, the good-humoured answer was, that my +services were still necessary at home. At length, on my making a +decided request that I should be permitted to return to my regiment, +he told me in confidence that the campaign was probably at an end; +that the British commander-in-chief was about to return; and that, in +fact, the strength of England would be turned to the naval war. At the +close of one of those conversations, fixing his keen grey eye upon me, +he said, "Pray, what think you of Parliament?" My answer was, "That +mediocrity was more contemptible there than any where else; while +success was more difficult."</p> + +<p>"You mean such success as Pitt's: you mean victory. But you must get +these Greek and Roman notions out of your head. An English House does +not want orators. One on a side is quite enough. They are like the +gold plate on a sideboard; it is well to show that we have such +things, for the honour of our establishment; but no one thinks of +making use of them at table. Pitt is an exception; he is equal to +every thing; an incomparable man of business. Burke, or some other man +of metaphor, compared him to the falcon; which, however high it may +soar, always follows the prey with its eye along the ground. But two +Pitts, if nature could be prolific of such magnificent monsters, would +absolutely perplex us. What could be more confusing than to have two +suns shining at the same time?"</p> + +<p>"But is Fox nothing?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"A great deal," was the answer. "He is the finest talker, I suppose, +in the world. The first of babblers."</p> + +<p>"Of babblers!" I involuntarily repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes; for what is babbling but speaking in vain, pouring out endless +speculations without a purpose or the hope of a purpose, indulging a +remarkably powerful and productive mind with the waste of its own +conceptions, pouring out a whole coinage of splendid thoughts with no +more expectancy of practical result than if he poured the mint into +the Thames? You may rely upon it that such is the opinion of the +House, as it will be yours when you get there; and such will be that +of posterity, if they shall ever take the trouble to think about any +of us."</p> + +<p>This conversation was evidently more than accidental; and I gave to it +some of my most perplexing hours. I had an original fondness for the +life of arms. I was of the age to feel its variety, animation, and +ardour. My experience had been fortunate; I had seen nothing but +victory, and had been flattered by personal distinction. But then came +the reverse of the medal. I remembered the opinion of the most +sagacious and penetrating spirit which it had been my lot ever to +know; and I felt that the Continent was to be our field of battle no +longer. The languor of home service, to one who had seen war in its +stateliest shape, and in its most powerful activity, rose before my +mind with an<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> inexpressible sense of weariness. On the other hand, +supposing that I possessed the faculties for political life, was I +possessed of the temper, the endurance of toil, the measureless +patience, the inexhaustible equanimity, which every night of my public +existence would <ins class="correction" title="Original reads 'henceforch'">henceforth</ins> demand? Why was this heart-wearying +struggle to be preferred to the simple and straightforward pursuit of +an honourable profession, in which the only weight was the carrying of +my sword, and the only secret of distinction possessing an untarnished +name?</p> + +<p>But I soon made up my mind. The question narrowed itself to this: +which was the more active life? The point of honour was no longer the +adherence to a profession whose purposes were necessarily changed. +Every hour gave additional evidence that the gates of the Continent +were closing upon the English soldier. Influence, impression, +publicity, were the prizes of a political career. I saw all other +names fade before the great senatorial names of England. I saw men of +humble extraction filling the world with their fame. I saw a +succession of individuals, who, if their profession had been arms, or +if their birth-place had been the Continent, would have lived and died +in the routine of obscure service, here rising to the height of +national homage, lustres of their generation, and guiding by their +opinions the courts of Europe. Whether I should ever take my place +among those illustrious names, scarcely entered into my thoughts. But +I was determined never to waste my life in conscious indolence. +Scarcely knowing what faculties I might possess, I had fully resolved +on trying their utmost strength; and grown almost indifferent to the +ordinary pursuits of human indulgence, I looked with something of a +melancholy yet proud hope, to the enjoyment which was to be found in +giving myself up to the solitary and stern toil of living for a great +cause, and leaving a name behind me that should not be forgotten.</p> + +<p>On that very day the intelligence arrived that the British troops had +marched towards the north of Germany; that the royal duke had returned +to England; and that the Allies had, by common consent, abandoned the +invasion of France. My habits were always prompt. Before the hour was +over in which the gazette appeared, I waited on my ministerial friend, +and expressed my full acquiescence in his proposal.</p> + +<p>I pass by the process of getting into Parliament. It was then a +simpler matter than it has since become. A treasury borough was then +the gate through which all the leading names of the country had +entered the legislature, and I merely followed the path of all but the +lords of acres.</p> + +<p>Every man who will make himself master of an occupation must serve an +apprenticeship. Parliament, too, has its seven years' indentures, and +the few who have refused the training have seldom been the wiser for +their precipitancy. I "bided my time," taking a slight occasional +share in debates with whose topics I happened to be well acquainted; +and expecting the chances, which, to every one who employs himself +vigorously, are all but certainties. Still I felt that this mere +hovering on the outskirts of debate must not last too long, and that +nothing was more hazardous to final reputation than to be too slow in +attempting to lay its first stone. Yet I felt some difficulty in every +great question; and, after bracing my nerves for the onset, I always +found my courage fail at the sight of the actual encounter. I felt as +a young knight might have felt in some of the tilting-matches of +old—master of his charger in the open field, and delighting in the +pressure of his armour and the weight of his lance; but when he once +rode within the barrier, saw the galleries filled, and the heralds +lifting the trumpets to their lips, feeling his blood grow chill, and +the light depart from his eyes.</p> + +<p>I mentioned my embarrassment to my Scottish friend, and almost +expected a remonstrance. To my great surprise and infinite pleasure, +he congratulated me. "You cannot give a better sign," said he. "My +only fear of you was, that you would dash into debate at once, like a +tumbler jumping from a precipice; and that, like him, all that you +would have gained by it would be broken limbs for life. If the fellow +had kept to his slack-rope and his stage, he would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> have been safe +enough, and gained some applause besides."</p> + +<p>"But what is to be done in the House, without some hazard of the +kind?"</p> + +<p>"Wrong—quite wrong. A great deal is to be done. Take myself for the +example. You see where I am, and yet I never made a <i>speech</i> in my +life. From the beginning of my career, I never allowed any one to look +for any thing of the kind from me; and the consequence was, that by +some I was regarded as a much shrewder personage than I ever believed +myself to be; and by others was thought to know a great deal more than +I ever acquired."</p> + +<p>"But will this account for the rapid distinctions of your public +life?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly, so far as they have gone. I obtained ministerial +confidence on the essential merits of being a safe man—one who made +no ambitious attempts to lower the crests of those above me. I escaped +the jealousy of those below me by adopting the style which mediocrity +assumes by nature. I was thus like the senior subaltern in a marching +regiment—I wore the same uniform with the colonel, and went through +the same exercise with the ensign. The field-officers knew that I +would not tread upon their heels, and every subaltern wished to see my +promotion, as a step to his own."</p> + +<p>My official duties, the mere entrance into office, occupied me +laboriously for a while, and I felt all the habitual difficulties of +my noviciate. It had been fully my intention to follow the advice of +my experienced friend, and leave the hour which was to call for my +exertions in the House to the chances of the time. But that time came +more rapidly than I had expected. The public mind was fevered, hour by +hour; the news from the Continent was more and more startling; the +successes of the Republican armies had assumed a shape which our +desponding politicians regarded as invincibility, and which our +factious ones pronounced to be the ruin of Europe. The cabinet offered +only the prospect of a melancholy struggle. But six months before, it +had stood, strong as a citadel erected by the national hands, and +garrisoned by the spirit of the empire. It still stood, but it stood +dismantled; there were evident breaches in its walls, and the +fugitives of Opposition, rallying with the hope of success, advanced +again to the storm, headed by their great leader, and sustained by the +capricious and fluctuating multitude. The premier was harassed by the +incessant toil of defence—a toil in which he had scarcely a sharer, +and which exposed him to the most remorseless hostility. Yet, if the +historian were to choose the moment for his true fame, this was the +moment which ought to be chosen. He rose with the severity of the +struggle; assault seemed to give him new vigour; the attempt to tear +the robe of office from his shoulders only gave the nobler display of +his intellectual proportions. When I saw him, night after night, +standing almost alone, with nothing but disaster in front and timidity +in the rear, combating a force such as had never before been arrayed +under the banners of Opposition; the whole scene of magnificent +conflict and still grander fortitude, reminded me of the Homeric war +and its warriors.—The champion of the kingdom, standing forth in +despite of evil omens thickening round him, of the deepening cloud, +and the sinister thunders.</p> + +<p>I speak of those times, and of the great men of those times, in no +invidious contrast with later days. I have so strong a faith in the +infinite ability which freedom gives to a great empire, that I am +convinced of our being able, in all its eras, to find the species of +public talent essential to its services. I regard the national mind, +as the philosopher does the natural soil, always capable of the +essential produce, where we give it the due tillage. The great men of +the past century have passed away along with it; they were summoned +for a day of conflict, and were formed for the conflict; their +muscular vigour, the power with which they wielded their weapons, the +giant step and the giant hand, were all necessary, and were all shaped +and sustained by that necessity. But this day had its close; the +leaders of man—like the "mighty hunters" of an Age, when the land was +still overshadowed with the forest, and the harvest was overrun with +the lion and the panther,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> would naturally give place to a less daring +and lofty generation, when the forest had given way to the field, and +the lair of the wild beast had become the highway and the bower. But +if the evil day should again return, the guardian power of intellect +and virtue will again come forth in the human shape, and vindicate the +providence that watches over the progress of mankind. I utterly deny +the exhaustion of national genius; I even deny its exhaustibility. If +the moral vegetation languishes, and the soil is parched for a while, +the great source of refreshing and fertility still lies before us—the +public mind, in its boundless expansion, and in its unfathomable +depth; the intellectual ocean which no plummet has ever sounded, and +which no shore has ever circumscribed, lies ready to restore the +balance of nature.</p> + +<p>But the sense of power itself in the national mind forbids the +exhibition of its strength in tranquil times. It is lofty and +fastidious; it will not stoop to a contest in which nothing is to be +contended for. It is not an actor; and it cannot adopt the figured +passion of the actor, rend its robe, and flourish, and obtest heaven +against the traitor and the oppressor, to the sound of an orchestra, +or in the glitter of stage lamps. The true ability of the empire must +scorn all mimic encounter; and what else can be the little struggles +of party shut up in the legislature, whose sound scarcely transpires +through the walls, whose triumphs are a tax, and whose oracles are an +intrigue? But, when the true day of trial shall come—when an enemy +shall be seen hovering on the coasts of the Constitution—when trumpet +answers trumpet, and the "country is proclaimed in danger"—then, and +not till then, shall we know the superb resources of our intellectual +strength: whatever may have been the prowess of the past, we may see +it not merely rivaled but thrown into eclipse by the future; the +burnished armour, and massive swords and maces of our old intellectual +chivalry, superseded by more manageable and more destructive +implements of success; and the sterner conflict followed by the more +consummate triumph. Yet, when we undervalue the living ability of a +nation from its quietude at the moment, we but adopt the example of +every past age in succession. The last ten years of the last century +were preceded by a period of despair; Chatham's career was run, and +the national regrets over his tomb were mingled with sorrows for the +extinction of all parliamentary renown!—The day had gone down, and +darkness was to cover the sky for ever. But while the prediction was +scarcely uttered, the horizon as in a blaze, mighty meteors rushed +across it in a thousand courses of eccentric speed and splendour; and +a period of intellectual display began, which at once dazzled and +delighted mankind. Anne's Augustan age of war, negotiation, and +eloquence, was once pronounced to be, like the Augustan age of Rome, +incapable of rivalship by posterity; but our own times have seen a +bolder war, a broader peace, and a richer development of science, +invention, and eloquence. For fifty years, England was pronounced to +have worn herself out by the prolific brilliancy of the half century +before; like a precocious infant, to have anticipated her powers, and +ensured their premature decay; like the Bœotians, to have had her +Pindaric period, and thenceforward to have paid for its raptures and +renown by perpetual darkness; or like the Israelites in Egypt, to be +condemned to drudgery for life, sunk into an intellectual +slave-caste;—when in the midst of the scoffing, or the sorrow, +suddenly arrived a new epoch, a new summons to the national genius, a +time of lofty interpositions, "thunderings in the air, and lightning +running along the ground," an era of the marvellous things of mind; +the chains fell off the hands, and the generation went forth, with a +new sense of superiority, into new scenes of knowledge, discovery, and +empire.</p> + +<p>Whether it was my good or ill fortune to make my first effort in the +midst of the men whose names have immortalized their day, I shall not +venture to decide. But my resolve had been firmly taken—not to remain +in Parliament unless I discovered in myself faculties fit for its +service. I was determined not to play the mute if I had the means of +uttering a voice.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> But now the whole force of administration was +demanded; and I made up my mind to ascertain by trial, what no man can +be sure of without that trial, whether I possessed any capacity for +public life.</p> + +<p>The subject on which I first spoke was an address to the throne, in +answer to the King's message on the war. On this night Pitt, but +lately recovered from a fit of his hereditary gout, spoke briefly, and +with evident feebleness of frame. Fox, whose energy seemed always to +depend on his rival's power, and whose eloquence always rose or fell +with the vigour or languor of the minister—Fox, never so great as +when Pitt put forth all his strength, on this night idled away his +hour, through the mere want of an antagonist; but Sheridan made ample +compensation for his leader. The House had fallen into lassitude, and +the benches were already thin when he arose. I had heard him as the +humorist on some trivial occasions of debate. I had enjoyed the social +pleasantry which placed him at the head of the wits; but I was still +but imperfectly acquainted with the strong sarcasm, the deep disdain, +and the grave sophistry, which this extraordinary man could exhibit +with such redundant ease, and wield with such vigorous dexterity. I +must give but an outline:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"You have made war," said he, "and you have made the arms of your +country contemptible by failures, which you rendered inevitable by +your rashness. You, sir," and he fixed his flashing eye on the +premier, "have commenced that war by a series of declarations, +which made our diplomacy as contemptible as our campaigns. The +national sword had been wrested from our hands. But you were not +content with that humiliation, and you added to it the disgrace of +the national understanding. You laid down a succession of +principles, and then trampled them in the dust on the first +opportunity. You encumbered yourself for action with pledges which +you could never have intended to sustain, or which in the first +collision your pusillanimity threw away. Yet I deprecate your +perfidy even more than I despise your weakness. I can comprehend +the effrontery of a fair aggression; but I scorn the meanness of +intrigue. I may face the man-at-arms, but I shudder at the +assassin. I may determine to hunt down and destroy the lion, but I +disdain the trap and the pitfall. And what has been the pretext of +his majesty's ministers? Moderation. In this spirit of moderation +they invaded France; in this spirit of moderation they captured +her fortresses, and then handed them over to the Emperor; in this +spirit of moderation they denounced the men who had given France a +constitution; and in this spirit of moderation you now prepare to +rebuild her Bastile, to restore her scaffolds, to reforge her +chains, and summon all the kings of Europe, instead of taking a +salutary lesson from the tomb of the monarchy, to see its skeleton +exhumed, and placed, robed and crowned, upon the throne, with the +nation forced to offer homage, at once in mockery and terror, to +the grinning emblem; in which, with all your philtres, you can +never put life again."</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p>The orator then gave a general and singularly imposing view of the +state of our European connexions; which he described as utterly frail, +the result of interested motives, and sure to be broken up at the +first temptation. But the "first lord of the treasury and chancellor +of his majesty's exchequer," said he, "smiles at my alarm; he has his +security at his side—he has the purse, which commands all the baser +portion of our nature with such irresistible control! On one point I +fully agree with the right honourable gentleman—that nothing but the +purse could ever keep them faithful. Yet, is there nothing but gold +that can bribe? is there no bribe in territory? will he not find, when +he hurries to the purchase of allies with the millions of the treasury +in his hand, that more powerful purchasers have been there before him? +When he offers the loan, will he not find them offering the province? +when he bids with the subsidy, will he not be outbid with the kingdom? +Or, if the anticipated conquerors of Europe, raising their sense of +dignity to the level of their power, should disdain the traffic of +corruption; will not the roaring of the French cannon in the ears of +kings make them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> feel, that, to persist in your ill-omened alliance, +is to devote themselves to ruin? will they bargain, in sight of the +axe? will they dare to traffic in the blood of their people, with the +grave dug at their feet? will they be dazzled by your gold, while the +French bayonet is startling their eyes? Within ten years, if England +exists, she will be without an ally; or, if she continues to fight, it +will be in loneliness, in terror, and in despair."</p> + +<p>In this strain he poured out his daring conceptions for more than two +hours, during which he kept the whole audience in the deepest +attention. He concluded in an uproar of plaudits from both sides of +the House.</p> + +<p>My time now came. And the rising of a new member, always regarded with +a generous spirit of courtesy, produced some additional interest, from +the knowledge of my services on the Continent, and my immediate +connexion with the ministry. The House, which had filled to +overflowing in the course of Sheridan's incomparable speech, was now +hushed to the most total silence, and every eye was turned on me. I +shall say nothing of my perturbation, further than that I had stood +before an enemy's line of ten thousand men, with their muskets +levelled within half a hundred yards of me; and that I thought the +benches of the House of Commons on that night looked much the more +formidable of the two. My head swam, my throat burned, my eyes grew +dim. I thought that the ground was shaking under my feet, and I could +have almost rejoiced to have sunk into it, from the gaze and the +silence, which equally appalled me. While I attempted to mutter a few +sentences, of which I felt the sound die within my lips, my eye was +caught by the quick turn of Pitt's head, who fixed his impatient +glance upon me. Fox, with that kindliness of heart which always forgot +party when a good-natured act was to be done, gave his sonorous cheer. +From that instant I was another man; I breathed freely, and, +recovering my voice and mind together, I plunged boldly into the +boundless subject before me.</p> + +<p>After scattering a few of the showy sophisms which the orator of the +opposition had constructed into his specious argument, I placed the +war on the ground of necessity. "Nations cannot act like +individuals—they cannot submit to self-sacrifice—they cannot give up +their rights—they cannot affect an indolent disdain or an idle +generosity. The reason of the distinction is, that in every instance +the nation is a trustee—It has the rights of posterity in its +keeping; it has nothing of its own to throw away; it is responsible to +every generation to come. If war be essential to the integrity of the +empire, war is as much a duty—a terrible duty, I allow—as the +protection of our children's property from the grasp of rapine, or the +defence of their lives against the midnight robber. But we are advised +to peace. No man on earth would do more willing homage than myself to +that beneficent genius of nations. But where am I to offer my homage? +Am I to kneel on the high-road where the enemy's armies, fierce with +the hope of plunder, are rushing along? Am I to build my altar in the +midst of contending thousands, or on the ground covered with +corpses—in the battle, or on the grave? Or am I to carry my offering +to the capital, and there talk the language of national cordiality in +the ear of the multitude dragging their king to the scaffold? Am I to +appeal to the feelings of human brotherhood in streets smoking with +civil massacre; to adjure the nation by the national honour, where +revolt is an avowed principle; to press upon them the opinion of +Europe, where they have proclaimed war with the world; to invoke them +by the faith which they have renounced, the allegiance which they have +disdained, the God whom they have blasphemed? Those things are +impossible. If we are to have a treaty with this new order of thinking +and action, it must be a compact of crime, a solemn agreement of +treachery, a formal bond of plunder; it must be a treaty fitter for +the cavern of conspiracy than for the chamber of council; its pledge +must be like that of Catiline, the cup of human blood! No; the most +powerful reprobation which ever shot from the indignant lip of the +moralist, would not be too strong for the baseness which stooped to +such a treaty, or the folly which entangled itself in its toils. No +burning language of pro<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>phecy would be too solemn and too stinging for +the premeditated wretchedness, and incurable calamity, of such a bond. +No; if we must violate the simplicity of our national interests by +such degrading, and such desperate involvements—if we should not +shrink from this conspiracy against mankind, let it, at least, not be +consummated in the face of day; let us at once abandon the hollow +pretences of human honesty; let us pledge ourselves to a perpetual +league of rapine and revolution; let it be transacted in some lower +region of existence, where it shall not disgrace the light of the sun; +and let its ceremonial be worthy of the spirit of evil which it +embodies, whose power it proclaims, and to whose supremacy it commands +all nations to bow down."</p> + +<p>In alluding to the menace that our allies would soon desert us, I +asked, "Is this the magnanimity of party? Is England to be pronounced +so poor, or so pusillanimous, that she must give up all hope unless +she can be suffered to lurk in the rear of the battle? What says her +prince of poets?—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">'England shall never rue,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">If England to herself shall be but true.'</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Is this 'little body with a mighty heart,' to depend for existence on +the decaying strength or the decrepit courage of the Continent? Is she +only to borrow the shattered armour which has hung up for ages in the +halls of continental royalty, and encumber herself with its broken and +rusty panoply for the ridicule of the world? The European governments +have undergone the vicissitudes of fortune. Instead of scoffing at the +facility of their overthrow, let us raise them on their feet again; +or, if that be beyond human means, I shall not join the party-cry +which insults their fall—I certainly shall not exult in that +melancholy pageant of mixed mirth and scorn, in which, like the old +Roman triumph, the soldier with his ruthless jest and song goes before +the chariot, and the captive monarch follows behind; wearing the royal +robe and the diadem only till he has gratified a barbarous curiosity +or a cruel pride, and then exchanging them for the manacle and the +dungeon. I deprecate the loss of these alliances; and yet I doubt +whether the country will ever be conscious of her true strength until +the war of the Continent is at an end. I more than doubt the wisdom of +suffering others to take the lead, which belongs to us by the right of +superior rank, superior prowess, and superior fame. I shall have but +slight regret for the fall of those outworks which—massive, nay, +majestic, as they are—waste the power of England by the division of +her force, and make us decline the gallant enterprize of the +field—ramparts and fosses which reduce us to defence, and which, +while they offer a thousand points of entrance to an active assault, +shut us in, and disqualify us from victory."</p> + +<p>I now repeat this language of the moment, merely from later and long +experience of its truth. I fully believe, that if England had come +forward to the front of the battle in the early years of the war, she +would have crushed all resistance; or if she had found, by the chance +of things, the Continent impenetrable to her arms, she would have +surrounded it with a wall of fire, until its factions had left nothing +of themselves but their ashes.</p> + +<p>I was now fully engaged in public life. The effort which I had made in +Parliament had received the approval of Pitt, who, without stooping to +notice things so trivial as style and manner on questions of national +life and death, highly applauded the courage which had dared to face +so distinguished a Parliamentary favourite as Sheridan, and had taken +a view of affairs so accordant with his own. From this period, I was +constantly occupied in debate; and, taking the premier for my model, I +made rapid proficiency in the difficult art of addressing a British +House of Commons. Of course, I have no idea of giving myself the +praise on this subject, which no man can give to himself on any, +without offence. But I felt that this was an <i>art</i> which might escape, +and which had often escaped, men of distinguished ability, and which +might be possessed by men of powers altogether inferior. I must +acknowledge, that a portion of my success was ow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>ing to the advice of +that shrewdest, and at the same time most friendly, of human beings, +the secretary. "You must be a man of business," said he, "or you will +be nothing; for praise is nothing—popularity is nothing—even the +applause of the House is nothing. These matters pass away, and the +orators pass away with them. John Bull is a solid animal, and likes +reality. This is the true secret of the successes of hundreds of men +of mediocrity, and of the failures of almost every man of brilliant +faculties. The latter fly too high, and thus make no way along the +ground. They always alight on the same spot; while the weaker, but +wiser, have put one foot before another, and have pushed on. Sheridan, +at this moment, has no more weight in the House than he had within a +twelvemonth after taking his seat. Fox, with the most powerful +abilities, is looked on simply as a magnificent speechmaker. His only +weight is in his following. If his party fell from him to-morrow, all +his eloquence would find its only echo in bare walls, and its only +panegyric in street-placards. Pitt is a man of business, complete, +profound, indefatigable. If you have his talents, copy his prudence; +if you have not, still copy his prudence—make it the interest of men +to consult you, and you must be ultimately successful."</p> + +<p>I laughingly observed, that the "Nullum numen abest" had been honoured +with an unexpected illustration.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said the minister, fixing his keen grey eye upon me, "if Eton +had never taught any other maxim, it would have been well worth all +the tail of its longs and shorts. It is the concentration of wisdom, +personal, private, and public; the polar star of politics, as probably +you would say; or, as in my matter-of-fact style should express it, +the fingerpost of the road to fortune."</p> + +<p>But there never was a time when all the maxims of political wisdom +were more required. A long succession of disasters had already broken +down the outworks of the continental thrones. The renown of the great +armies of Germany was lost; the discipline of the Prussian, and the +steady intrepidity of the Austrian, had been swept before the wild +disorder of the French. Men began to believe that the art of war had +been hitherto unknown, and that the enemy had at length mastered the +exclusive secret. Monarchy came to be regarded as only another name +for weakness; and civilized order for national decrepitude. A kind of +superstition stole over the minds of men; the signs of European +overthrow were discovered in every change; calculations were calmly +raised on the chances of existence to the most powerful dynasties; the +age of crowns was in the move, the age of republics was in the +ascendant; and while the feebler minds looked with quiescent awe on +what they regarded as the inevitable tide of events, the more daring +regarded the prospect as a summons to prepare for their part of the +spoil. The struggles of Opposition grew more resolute as the hope of +success came nearer, and the Government began to feel the effects of +this perpetual assault, in the sudden neutrality of some of its most +ostentatious champions, and in the general reserve of its supporters +in the House. Even the superb perseverance of Pitt was beginning to be +weary of a contest, in which victory lost its fruits on the one side, +while defeat seemed only to give fresh vigour on the other. But a new +triumph was to cheer the face of things.</p> + +<p>I was returning one morning from the House after a night spent in a +fierce debate on the war, which Fox denounced with an asperity unusual +to his generous temperament. The premier had made a powerful speech, +vindicating the government from all share in the continental +misfortunes; pronouncing loftily, that, in a war not made for +conquest, it was sophistry to speak of our failure of possession as a +crime; and declaring in a tone of singular boldness and energy—that +if the Continent were untrod by a British soldier, there was a still +broader field for the arms and the triumphs of England. But his +eloquence had more effect in exposing the errors, than in reducing the +numbers of his opponents, and the smallness of his majority would have +made a feebler mind resign on the spot. The announcement of the +numbers was received with an insulting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> cheer by the minority, and the +cabinet was already by anticipation in their hands.</p> + +<p>I left the House wearied and dejected, and was returning to Downing +Street, to throw myself on a couch, and get a few hours of rest before +my morning toil; when I found a messenger at the door of my office, +bearing a request from the secretary of state, that I should attend +him as soon as possible. I found my friend before a table covered with +despatches, his brow furrowed with weariness like my own.</p> + +<p>"You see me here, Marston, more tired than any ploughman or watchman, +or any other son of labour from this to John O'Groat's House. I was +sent for, from the House, six hours ago, and every hour since have I +been poring over those puzzled papers. How long I can stand this wear +and tear the physicians must tell, but it would require the +constitution of Hercules or Samson, or both together, to go through +the work that is beginning to fall on the members of the cabinet."</p> + +<p>I offered to give him such assistance as was in my power.</p> + +<p>"No, no, Marston; I am chained to the oar for this night at least, and +must pull till I fall asleep. My purpose in keeping you from your +pillow at this time of night, is not to relieve myself from trouble; +but to ask whether you are disposed to relieve the government from +serious difficulty, and in a way which I hope will be not disagreeable +to yourself." I concluded that my mission was to be continental, and +my heart danced at the suggestion. In England it was impossible to +continue my search for the being in whom all my thoughts were fixed; +but once beyond the sea I should have the world before me. I asked +whether there was any intention of trying the chances of attack again +on the French frontier.</p> + +<p>"None whatever. The greater probability is, that the French will make +some experiment on the strength of ours."</p> + +<p>I looked all astonishment. He interpreted my look, and said—"To solve +the enigma at once, It is our wish to send you to Ireland."</p> + +<p>I listened in silence while he went into a long detail of the hazard +of the island, arising from the interests of a powerful republican +party, who, inflamed by the successes of France, were preparing to +receive troops and arms from the republic. He finished by saying, in a +tone of compliment, which, from him, was as unusual as I believe it +was sincere, that my exertions in debate had attracted high +consideration in the highest quarter, and that I had been proposed by +the monarch himself for the chief-secretaryship of Ireland. The +premier had assented to the appointment at once; "and here," said he, +"is the warrant, which I have prepared in anticipation of its +acceptance. You are, from this moment, virtual viceroy of Ireland."</p> + +<p>This was elevation indeed! I had at once surmounted all the slow +gradations of office. The broadest prospect of official ambition had +suddenly opened before me; popularity, founded on the most solid +grounds, was now waiting only my acceptance; the sense of power, +always dear to the heart of man, glowed in every vein; and it is only +justice to myself to say, that the strongest impulse of all was the +desire to leave my name as a benefactor to a people, who seemed to me +as much gifted by nature as they were unhappy by circumstances.</p> + +<p>"How long will it take you to prepare for the journey?" asked the +minister.</p> + +<p>"Half an hour," was my reply.</p> + +<p>"Bravo! Marston. I see your campaigning has not been thrown away upon +you. You have the soldier's promptitude. We were prepared to allow you +a week. But the sooner you set off the better. The truth is," said he +rising, "we are in great difficulties in that quarter. The most +thoroughly English portion of the island is at this moment the most +disturbed. There are drillings, purchases of arms, midnight +musterings, and even something not far from prepared attacks upon the +king's troops. The papers among which you found me, contain a regular +and a very complete organization of an insurrectionary government. You +will require all the energy of the soldier and all the prudence of the +statesman."</p> + +<p>"Let me add to them," said I,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> "what is essential to the success of +both in a country of generous hearts and quick conceptions, the +sincerity of a patriot."</p> + +<p>"The experiment is worth trying," said he with a smile, "if it were +only for the sake of its novelty. But Ireland has qualities which, +like those of her soil, require only to be turned up to the light to +reward all the labours of wealth or wisdom." Before that evening +closed in, I was a hundred miles on my way to the Irish capital.</p> + +<p>A rapid journey, and a tranquil passage over the sixty miles that lie +between Wales and Ireland, gave me what an old Roman would regard as +an omen of the peacefulness of my mission. On the dawn of one of the +finest mornings of the year, I came within sight of the Irish coast, +and was struck, as all travellers have been, by the beauty of the bold +and picturesque coast which rose from the waters before me. In front +was a province of mountains, touched by all the variety of colours, +which are painted in such richness by the summer sun, on groups of +pinnacles and cones, forest hills, and the fine diversities of +woodland and mountain scenery. On one side the eye glanced over a vast +sheet of water, shut in by headlands, and as blue and bright as a lake +under a serene sky. At the extremity of this noble estuary, a cloud, +unchanging and unmoving, showed where a city sent up the smoke of its +ten thousand fires; beyond this, all was purple confusion. My official +rank threw open all the <i>élite</i> of Irish society to me at my first +step; and I found it, as it has been found by every one else, +animated, graceful, and hospitable. The nature of its government +tended to those qualifications. While the grave business of the state +was done in London, the lighter business of show was sedulously +sustained in the Irish capital. The lord-lieutenant was generally a +nobleman, selected more for his rank and his wealth than for his +statesmanship. A rich, showy, and good-humoured peer was the true man +for the head of affairs in Ireland. It was of more importance that he +should give balls and suppers, say lively things to the ladies, and be +jocular with the gentleman, than that he should have the brains of +Bolingbroke or the tongue of Chatham. But the position of the +secretary was the absolute antipode of this tranquil and festive +sinecure. He was in Ireland what the premier was in England, but with +ten times more of the difficulty, and ten times less of the power. The +whole conduct of public affairs lay on his shoulders; he was +responsible for every thing, while he was free in nothing; perpetually +assailed by opposition for measures which he was not at liberty to +explain, and standing between the English cabinet and the Irish party +as a scapegoat for the mistakes of the one, and a target for the shot +of the other. But the chief trial of temper was in the House of +Commons. Opposition in Ireland never had a list of more brilliant +names. Government had the majority behind its bench, and that majority +recruited from the ranks of Opposition; but the more distinguished +were fixed to party by their own celebrity; and the recruits, however +able, were so liable to be attacked for their change of side, that +they were paralyzed; in some instances, they were so much galled by +the merciless sharpshooting of their former associates, that they ran +back, and left the minister to fight the field alone.</p> + +<p>I was fortunately free from the entanglements of that question, which +has since formed so large a portion of the political disquietudes of +Irish debate. The religion of the south was not yet among +parliamentary topics. The religion of the north, active ardent, and +indefatigable, was our most restless theme; and the political theories +which seemed to grow out of its bold abstractions, kept the government +in perpetual anxiety. The whole northern portion of the island was +ripe for revolt. America had blown the hot-blast of the revolutionary +furnace across the Atlantic, and a spark from France would have now +ignited the whole hot surface of the soil.</p> + +<p>One of my first acts after arranging the preliminary business of +office, was to make a flying tour through Ulster. I was astonished at +its beauty. Even after being familiar with the loveliness of the +English landscape, I was in a state of continued surprise at the +variety, rich<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>ness, and singularity of nature in the northern +counties. Mountain, lake, magnificent bay, and broad river, followed +each other in noble and unceasing succession. I was still more struck +with the skill and good fortune, by which the people had contrived to +combine the industry of manufactures with the life of the fields; a +problem which England herself had failed to solve. But, most of all, I +was attracted by the independent air, and handsome and vigorous +appearance of the people; almost every man was proprietor, and had the +look which proprietorship alone can give. I found books in almost +every cottage, decency of dress every where, and among the higher +orders frequent elegance and accomplishment. The women were cultivated +and intelligent; the men, spirited and enquiring. But the politics of +France had made their way through a large portion of the province, and +the glories of a republic "loomed large" before the popular eye. As it +was my purpose to see all that I could with my own eyes, I mingled +largely in society, made no distinction between honourable men of +different political creeds, enjoyed to-day the stag-hunt and claret of +the noble Whig, and to-morrow the stag-hunt and claret of the noble +Tory, listened to all, laughed with all, and learned something from +all. The English aristocrat, especially if he holds high official +place, once haunted the imaginations of the Irish of all conditions, +like an incarnation of an Indian deity—all fierceness and frigidity; +and it must be acknowledged that the general order of viceroys and +secretaries had not tended much to remove the conception. They were +chiefly men of advanced life, with their habits formed by intercourse +with the most exclusive class in existence, the English peerage, or +rendered rigid by the dry formalities of official life. But I was +young, had seen a good deal of that rough work of the world which +gives pliancy, if not polish, to all characters; and I was, besides, +really delighted with the animation, pleasantry, and winning kindness +which exhibited themselves every where round me. I was half a son of +Ireland already, and I regarded the recognition as the pledge of my +success.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," said one of the most influential and accomplished +noblemen of the country to me, one day at his sumptuous table—"how +many of the lords-lieutenant do you think have left a popular +recollection behind them?"</p> + +<p>I professed my ignorance, but enumerated some names remarkable for +intelligence and vigour of administration.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said my entertainer, "that was not the question! Great statesmen +and showy governors, capital rulers of the country and bold managers +of our factions, we have had in sufficient succession, but I speak of +the faculty of being remembered; the talent of making a public +impression; the power of escaping that national oblivion into which +mere official services, let them be of what magnitude they may, +inevitably drop when their performer has disappeared. Well, then, I +shall tell you. <i>Two</i>, and no more."</p> + +<p>I begged to know the names of those "discoverers of the grand secret, +the philosopher's stone of popularity," the alchemists who had power +to fix the floating essence of the Irish mind!</p> + +<p>"Chesterfield and Townshend. Chesterfield, regarded as a fop in +England, was a daring, steady, and subtle governor of the unruly +spirits of Ireland, in one of the most hazardous periods. That the +throne of the Brunswicks did not see an Irish revolt at the moment +when it saw a Scottish invasion, was the service of Chesterfield. But +he ruled not by his wisdom, but by his wit. He broke down faction by +<i>bon-mots</i>; he extinguished conspiracy by passing compliments; he +administered the sternest law with the most polished smile; and cut +down rebellion by quotations from La Fontaine, and <i>calembourgs</i> from +Scarron. But with these fortunate pleasantries he combined public and +solid services. He threw a large portion of the crown lands in the +neighbourhood of the capital into a park for the recreation of the +citizens, and thus gave one of the earliest and most munificent +examples of regard for the health and enjoyment of the people; a more +enduring monument of his statesmanship could not have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> been offered to +the gratitude of the country."</p> + +<p>Of the Marquis Townshend I had heard as a gallant soldier, and a +stirring viceroy, but I still had to learn the source of his +popularity.</p> + +<p>"Townshend was one of those singular men who possess faculties of +which they have no knowledge, until the moment when they become +necessary. He began life as a soldier, and finished his soldiership in +the most brilliant victory of his day—the battle of Quebec. On his +appointment to the viceroyalty, he found his government a nothing; a +government faction superseding the governor, and an opposition faction +engrossing the people. He now, for the first time, became a +politician. He resolved to crush both, and he succeeded. He treated +the government faction in Ireland with contumely, and he treated the +opposition with contempt. Both were indignant; he laughed at both, and +treated them with still more scorn. Both were astonished—the +government faction intrigued against him in England, the opposition +threatened impeachment. He defied them still more haughtily. They now +found that he was not to be shaken, and both submitted. The nation +joined him, was pacified, grew in vigour, as it required tranquillity; +and here you have the secret of all the privileges which Ireland has +obtained. Townshend performed, only on a smaller scale, the same +national service which Pitt performed on a larger one. He took the +people out of the hands of aristocracy, broke up the league of +opulence and power, and gave the island that popular freedom which the +great minister of England gave to the empire. For this the name of +Townshend lives among us still. His bold satires are recorded, his +gallant bearing is remembered, his passing pleasantries have become a +portion of the national wit, and his rough but effectual services are +among the memorials of our independence as a people."</p> + +<p>The evening of this hospitable day concluded with a ball to the +neighbouring families, and all was graceful and animated enjoyment. My +host had travelled much in early life, and had brought home some fine +pictures and valuable sculptures. He was an accomplished classical +scholar—a quality which I found in some degree fashionable among the +leading personages of the time, and which unquestionably added much to +the high tone of conversation among the parliamentary circles. In his +magnificent mansion an artist might have found studies, a scholar +learning, a philosopher wisdom, and a man of the world all the charms +of polished life. How soon, and how fearfully, were they all to be +extinguished! How bitterly were all who honoured and esteemed that +generous and highly-gifted nobleman, to feel what shadows we are, and +what shadows we pursue!</p> + +<p>Our mornings were chiefly spent in hunting over the fine landscape +which spread, in all the various beauty of vegetation, within view of +the mansion. On one of those days the attention of the field was +caught by the fierce riding of a singular-looking man, scarcely above +the peasant in his general appearance, and yet mounted on one of the +finest English horses that I had ever seen. He rode at every thing, +managed his horse with practised skill, and soon became an object of +general emulation. To "ride up" to the "wild horseman," was found to +be a task not easily accomplished, and at length all was a trial of +speed with this dashing exhibitor. A glance which, when on the point +of one of his most desperate leaps, he threw back at me, seemed to be +a kind of challenge, and I rushed on at speed. The Irish hunter +matchless at "topping" stone walls, but his practice has not lain much +among rivers; and the English horse is sometimes his master at the +deep and rapid streams which, running between crumbling banks, are +perhaps the severest trials to both horse and rider. The majority of +the hunt pulled up at the edge of one of those formidable chasms, and +I was by no means unwilling to follow their example; but the look of +the strange rider had a sneer along with it, which put me on my +mettle, and I dashed after him. The hounds had scrambled through, and +we rode nearly abreast through a broken country, that mixture of bog +and firm ground which occurs frequently in newly cleared land, and +over which nothing but the most powerful sinews can make way. We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> had +now left every one behind us, were struggling on through the dimness +of a hazy day, sinking into twilight. Suddenly my mysterious rival +turned his horse full upon me, and to my utter amazement discharged a +pistol at my head. The discharge was so close that I escaped only by +the swerving of my horse at the flash. I felt my face burn, and in the +impulse of the pain made a blind blow at him with my whip. He had +drawn out another pistol in an instant, which the blow luckily dashed +out of his hand. No words passed between us, but I bounded on him to +seize him. He slipped away from my grasp, and, striking in the spur, +galloped madly forward, I in pursuit. The twilight had now deepened, +and he plunged into a lane bounded on both sides by steep hedges, and +which, from some former hunting in this quarter, I knew to be a +<i>cul-de-sac</i>. This doubled my determination to make myself master of +the assassin; and even in the hurry of the moment I formed some +conception of my having seen his face before, and that the attempt to +put me out of the way was connected, in some way or other, with public +affairs. This question was soon decided. He reached the end of the +lane, which was shut in with a wall of about the height of a man. His +horse shied at the obstacle. The rider, with an oath and a desperate +exertion, pushed him to it again. I was now within a few yards of him, +and arrived just in time to see the animal make a convulsive spring, +touch with his hind feet on the top of the wall, and roll over. My +Irish horse cleared it in the native style, and I found my enemy +crushed under his hunter, and evidently in the pangs of death. He had +been flung on a heap of stones, and the weight of the falling horse +had broken his spine. I poured some brandy down his throat, relieved +him from the incumbrance of the hunter—attempted to give him +hope—but he told me that it was useless; that he felt death coming +on, and that I was the last man who should wish him to live, "as he +had pledged himself to my extinction." For a while, his recollections +were wild, and he talked of events in France and Spain, where he +seemed to have done some deeds which affected him with peculiar horror +in the prospect of dissolution. But, after a brief period of those +terrible disclosures, his pains totally ceased, his mind grew clear; +and he acknowledged that he was one of the leading agents of a +National Conspiracy to republicanize Ireland. "You are too kind," said +he to me, "to one who now sees the madness of the design, and is +sensible of the guilt of taking away the lives of honourable men." A +lapse of weakness here tied his tongue; and I brought him a draught of +water from a spring which gurgled beside the wall. He thanked me, and +proceeded to say, that my "character for vigilance and activity had +alarmed the principal conspirators, and that he, thinking all crimes +meritorious in a popular cause, had resolved to signalize the +commencement of his services, by putting the English secretary to +death on the first occasion." For this purpose, he had followed my +steps for some time in the metropolis, but without finding a fit +opportunity. The intelligence of my hunting days in the north gave him +renewed expectations, and he had followed me in various disguises; had +been present at dinners and balls, where I was the principal guest; +had even frequently conversed with me on public and foreign topics; in +fact, had haunted me with a case of pistols constantly in his bosom; +yet had never been able to find the true opportunity of despatching me +without <i>eclat</i>. He had, at last, determined to give up the object as +altogether hopeless; and had already prepared to act on a bolder scale +by heading open rebellion, when he heard of my intending to hunt on +this day. It was to be his last experiment; "and how rejoiced I am," +said he, "that it has failed!" He now remained for a while in apparent +meditation, and then suddenly raising himself on his hand, said, in a +full and manly tone—"One thing I still can do in this world, if it +may not be too late. Leave me here; I must die; go back in all haste +to your friends, and tell them to prepare either to fly or defend +their lives. This is the night appointed for the breaking out of the +insurrection. Fifty thousand men are already armed in the mountains, +and ready for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> signal to march on the principal towns. The few +troops in the country are to be made prisoners in their barracks. The +government stores are to be divided among the people. Before twelve +hours are over we shall have a force of a hundred thousand men on +foot; and a republic will be proclaimed."</p> + +<p>The intelligence was startling, but not wholly unexpected. I demanded +the names of the leaders; but on this head he refused to make any +answer. I next enquired, whether the rebel directory had any hope of +assistance from the Continent. "That I can fully answer," said he, now +almost at his last gasp. "I myself was the negotiator. It is but a +month since I was in Paris. The government agreed to send seven sail +of the line, with ten thousand troops, and Hoche, the favourite +general of the republic, to the north; or, in case of unexpected +obstacles, to the south of Ireland. I have been looking out for their +flag from hour to hour." The man sank back on the ground. I prepared +to run for help, if there were any to be found in that desolate place. +He grasped my hand; his was icy. "No," said he, "I must now be left +alone; I am dying, and I am not sorry to die. I am free from your +blood, and I shall not share in the horrors which I see at hand. Men +in health, and men dying think differently of those things. Farewell!" +He gave my hand a convulsive clasp, and expired.</p> + +<p>My situation was an anxious one. Night had fallen, and the hour was +full of peril to those whom I had left behind; it was even possible +that the insurrection might have already broken out. Sounds, which +seemed to me, in the stillness of the hour, to be the signals of the +peasantry—the echoes of horns, and trampling of bodies of +horse—began to rise upon the gust, and yet I was unwilling to leave +my unfortunate victim on the ground. A length a loud shout, and the +firing of musketry on the skirts of the wood, awoke me to a sense of +the real danger of my situation. I forced my way through the thickets, +and saw a skirmish between a large mass of armed men, and a picket of +troops in a village on the borders of the wood. There was now no time +to be lost. I returned to the spot where the body lay, placed my hand +on its forehead, to ascertain whether any remnant of life lingered +there; found all cold; and, remounting my horse, wound my dreary and +difficult way back to the mansion.</p> + +<p>To my surprise, I found the windows blazing with lights, carriages +arriving, and all the signs of a night of gala. I had forgotten that +this was my noble entertainer's birthday, and that the whole circle of +the neighbouring nobles and gentlemen had been for the last month +invited. There were to be private theatricals, followed by a ball and +supper. The whole country continued to pour in. Full of my disastrous +intelligence, my first enquiry was for the noble host; he was not to +be seen. I was at length informed under the seal of secrecy by his +secretary, that some information of popular movements within a few +miles, having been conveyed to him late in the day, he had put himself +at the head of a squadron of his yeomanry to ascertain the nature of +the disturbance, and as it was then too late to countermand the +invitations to the ball, had given strict orders that the cause of his +absence should be concealed, and that the entertainments should go on +as if he were present.</p> + +<p>Agreeing that this was the wisest thing which could be done, to avoid +unnecessary alarm, which paralyses action beforehand, and renders all +ridiculous after, I seldom felt it more difficult to play my part than +on this occasion. As a minister, any thing in the shape of solicitude +on my part, was sure to be magnified into actual disaster, and I was +forced to keep an unembarrassed countenance. I immediately sent out +servants in every direction to bring intelligence of the actual state +of affairs, and above all, to ascertain what had detained their +master. Though all this was done with the utmost secrecy, it was +impossible to suppress the growing impression that something +extraordinary must have occurred, to withdraw from his own hospitable +roof, and so long detain, the lord of the mansion, distinguished as he +was for the most polished courtesy. As the hour waned, the enquiries +became more urgent, the dance languished, and the showy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> crowd forming +into groups, and wandering through the saloons, or gathered to the +windows, had evidently lost all the spirit of festivity. To my +astonishment, strong opinions began to find utterance, and I +discovered that his lordship, in his general and lofty disregard of +the shades of popular sentiment, had among his guests some individuals +whose rank and wealth had not preserved them from the taint of +republicanism. As it was not my purpose to make a ball-room the scene +of a political squabble, and as I felt it due to my official position +to avoid any unnecessary entanglement in the obscure follies of +provincial partizanship, I first tried to laugh down the topic. But a +young orator, a handsome and fluent enthusiast, recently returned from +a continental excursion, gave so stirring a picture of the glories of +French independence, and the glittering advantages which must accrue +to all countries following the example, that I was forced to stand on +my defence. The gallant republican was not to be repelled; he poured +out upon me, as he warmed with the theme, so vast a catalogue of +public injuries, in language so menacing, yet so eloquent, that I was +forced to ask whether I was standing in the midst of a Jacobin +club—whether his object was actually to establish a democracy, to +govern by the guillotine, to close up the churches, and inscribe the +tombs with—death is an eternal sleep; to swear to the extinction of +monarchy, and proclaim universal war. Our dispute had now attracted +general notice. He answered with still more vehement and elaborate +detail. I had evidently the majority on my side, but some few adhered +to him, and those, too, men of consequence, and obvious determination.</p> + +<p>The ladies shrank affrighted, as the contest grew more angry; and the +usual and unhappy result of political discussion in Ireland, an +exchange of cards, was about to take place, when one of the servants +brought me a small packet of papers which had been found on the body +of the assassin. Glancing over them, I saw a list of the leaders of +the insurrection, and the first name in the paper that of my +antagonist. I crushed the document in my hand, and beckoned him to a +window. There, alone, and out of hearing of the guests, who, however, +followed us anxiously with their eyes, I charged him with his guilt. +He denied it fiercely. I gave him five minutes to consider whether he +would confess or abide the consequences. His countenance visibly +exhibited the perturbations of his mind; he turned pale and red +alternately, shuddered, then braced himself up with desperate +resolution, and finally ended by denying and defying every thing. It +was not in my nature to press upon this moment of agony; but telling +him, that nothing but compassion prevented my ordering his arrest on +the spot, I again warned him to make his peace in time with the +government, by a solemn abjuration of his design.</p> + +<p>I have the whole scene before me still. This man was destined to a +memorable and melancholy fate. I never remember a countenance more +expressive of intellectual refinement; but there was a look of strange +and feverish restlessness in his large grey eye, almost ominous of his +future career. He was still young, though he had already gone through +vicissitudes enough to darken the longest life. He had been, a few +years before, called to the bar, the favourite profession of the Irish +gentry, where he had exhibited talents of a remarkable order; but an +impatience of the slow success of this profession drove him to the +hazards of political change. He had married, and this increased his +difficulties, until party came athwart him with its promises of +boundless honour and rapid fortune. His sanguine nature embraced the +temptation at once; but the parliamentary opposition was too +deliberate and too frigid for his boiling blood; he plunged into the +deeper and wilder region of conspiracy, took the lead, which is so +soon assigned to the brilliant and the bold, and became the soul of +the tremendous faction which was ready to proclaim the separation of +the empire.</p> + +<p>He had but now returned from France, with a commission in the army of +the Republic, and a plan agreed on with the Directory for the invasion +of Ireland; but these were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> discoveries to be made hereafter. On this +night I saw nothing but a gallant enthusiast, filled with classic +recollections, inflamed with the ardour of early life, and deluded by +the dreams of political perfection. My sense of the utter ruin which +he was preparing for himself was so strong, that I pressed him from +point to point, until he was forced to take refuge in flight, and, +rushing from me, burst open a door which led to the demesne. While I +paused, not unwilling to give him the opportunity to escape, I heard a +wild burst of wailing, and a confusion of voices outside. In the next +moment, I saw the fugitive return, with a tottering step, a bloodless +countenance, and a look of horror. Without a word, he pointed to the +door; I followed the direction, and saw what might well justify his +feelings. The troop of yeomanry had been attacked on their return from +patrolling the country; an ambuscade had been laid for them by a large +force of the insurgents, in one of the narrow roads which bordered the +demesne, and where, from its vicinity, they had imagined themselves +secure. As they moved down this defile with their noble commandant at +their head, a heavy fire of musketry assailed them from both sides; +and as the assailants were unapproachable, they had no resource but to +gallop on. But they had no sooner reached the wider part of the road, +than they found themselves fired on again from behind a barricade of +carts and waggons drawn across the road. The affair now seemed +desperate; the muzzles of the muskets almost touched their breasts, +and every shot told. Their pistols could only keep up a random fire, +and their sabres were wholly useless. They were now falling helplessly +and fast, when the earl ordered them to charge the insurgents in +front, and force their way over the barricade at all risks. He bravely +led the way, and they burst through under a volley from the rebels. A +ball fatally struck him as he was in the act of cheering on his men, +and he dropped dead from his horse without a groan. The troop, furious +at their loss, had taken a desperate revenge, cleared the road, and +had now brought the dead body of their lord to that mansion, where he +had so long presided as the example of every high-toned quality, and +which his fate was now to turn into a scene of terror and woe.</p> + +<p>The melancholy tidings could not now be suppressed, and the ball-room +was filled with screams and faintings. The corpse was brought in, +borne on the arms of the yeomanry, most of them wounded, and looking +ghastly from loss of blood and the agitation of the encounter. The +guests crowded round the sofa on which the body was laid, with all the +varieties of sorrow and strong emotion conceivable, under the loss of +a common and honoured friend. Tears fell down many a manly cheek; sobs +were heard on every side, mingled with outcries of indignation against +the rebellious spirit by which so deep a calamity had been produced. +But all other considerations were quickly absorbed in the sense of +general danger. A tremendous shout was heard round the mansion, +followed by the discharge of musketry and the clashing of pikes. All +rushed to the windows, and we saw the hills in a blaze with fires, and +the demesne crowded with the armed thousands of the insurrection.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> +<h3>JANUS;</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">The God of New-year's Day, From the Fasti of Ovid</span>.</h4> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Janus"> +<tr><td> +Behold with omens blithe and bright, on festive New-Year's Day,<br /> +First in the year old Janus comes, and foremost in my lay!<br /> +Twin-headed god, source of the year that silent glides away,<br /> +Who only of the Olympian throng canst thine own back survey;<br /> +Bless thou our noble chiefs, whose arms have purchased gentle peace<br /> +To fruitful Earth, and lent the wave from pirate-chase release;<br /> +On senators and people smile, who call Quirinus god,<br /> +All temples bright, in shining white, fly open at thy nod!<br /> +A lucky sun doth shine; nor voice, nor thought of ill, be stirr'd<br /> +To tempt the time; the happy day demands the happy word.<br /> +No brawls assail the ear; cease now the harsh-vex'd forum's hum,<br /> +And calumny with eager tongue, for once thy spite be dumb!<br /> +Lo! where the pure and fragrant flame from every altar round<br /> +Upwreathes, while ears devout receive the saffron's crackling sound!<br /> +The wandering flame, far darting, strikes the golden-fretted roof,<br /> +And with the tremulous ray aloft, it weaves a shining woof.<br /> +In stately pomp, the people wend up the Tarpeian slope,<br /> +All brightly, on a bright day clad, the pure white robes of hope;<br /> +New axes shine, and in the sun new purple bravely sports,<br /> +And greeted-far the curule chair new weight of worth supports;[<a name="f12.1" id="f12.1" href="#f12">12</a>]<br /> +New oxen come that lately cropp'd the sweet Faliscan grass,<br /> +And yield to Jove their willing necks on which no yoke did pass.<br /> +He, from his starry throne sublime, looks East and West; and lo!<br /> +He sees but Rome, and Rome's domain, in all he sways below.<br /> +Hail happy day, and still return to bless with happier face<br /> +The sons of Romulus, lords of Earth, not thankless for thy grace!<br /> +But who art thou, strange biform god, and what thy power? for Greece<br /> +With all her gods of thee and thine hath bade her Muses cease;<br /> +This say; and say why thou alone of all celestial kind,<br /> +Dost forwards still look steadfastly and also gaze behind?<br /> +Thus with myself I mused, and held my tablets to indite,<br /> +When sudden through the room there shone an unaccustom'd light,<br /> +And in the light the double shape of Janus hoar appear'd,<br /> +And 'fore my view with fix'd regard his double face he rear'd.<br /> +I stood aghast, each rigid hair erect rose on my head,<br /> +And through my frame with freezing touch the creeping terror sped.<br /> +He in his right hand held a staff, and in his left a key,<br /> +And with the mouth to-me-ward turn'd these words he spake to me—<br /> +"Fear not, pains-taking bard, whose pen doth chronicle the days,<br /> +Receive my word with faithful ear, and sound it in thy lays.<br /> +When earth was young, primeval speech first call'd me Chaos; I<br /> +Am no birth of to-day—a name of hoar antiquity.<br /> +This lucid air, and the other three, which elements ye class,<br /> +Fire, water, earth, were then one rude and undigested mass;<br /> +But soon within the mingled heap a secret strife did brew,<br /> +And to self-chosen homes anon the hostile atoms flew.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +First rose the flame sublime, the air assumed the middle berth,<br /> +And to the central base were bound strong ocean, and firm earth.<br /> +Then I, till then a mass confused, a huge and shapeless round,<br /> +New features worthy of a god, and worthy members found;<br /> +Still of my primal shapeless bulk remain'd the little trace,<br /> +That I alone have no true back, but show both ways a face.<br /> +One cause thou hast; another hear, and with my figure know,<br /> +My virtue and my power above, my office here below.<br /> +Whate'er thou see'st, the earth, the sea, the air, the fiery cope,<br /> +At my command they shut their gates, at my command they ope.<br /> +I of the vasty universe do hold the secret key,<br /> +The hinge of every thing that turns is turn'd alone by me.<br /> +Peace, when I please to send her forth from her secure retreats,<br /> +Walks freely o'er the unfenced fields, and treads free-gated streets;<br /> +The mighty globe would quake convulsed by blood and murderous din,<br /> +Did not my brazen bolt confine the store of strife within.<br /> +The gates of Heaven are mine; I watch there with the gentle Hours,<br /> +That Jove supreme must wait my time in the Olympian bowers.<br /> +Thence my name Janus;[<a name="f13.1" id="f13.1" href="#f13">13</a>] thence the priest who on my altar places<br /> +The salted cake, the sacred meal, with strange-mouth'd titles graces<br /> +My hoary deity; thence you hear Patulcius now, and now<br /> +Clusius, crown the votive gift, and seal the mystic vow.[<a name="f14.1" id="f14.1" href="#f14">14</a>]<br /> +Thus rude antiquity at first its simple creed confess'd,<br /> +And with twin words the functions twain of one same god express'd.<br /> +My power you know—the god of gates—now for my figure, why?<br /> +The cause is plain, and may be read by half a poet's eye.<br /> +There is no door but looks two ways; into the busy street<br /> +This way, and that way back towards the quiet Lar's retreat;[<a name="f15.1" id="f15.1" href="#f15">15</a>]<br /> +And as the porter whom you place to keep watch at your gate,<br /> +Sees who goes out and who comes in at early hour and late,<br /> +Thus I, the warden of the sky, from heaven's wide-tented blue,<br /> +Look forth, and scan both east and west with comprehensive view.<br /> +The triform image you have seen, and any where may see,<br /> +Of Hecate standing at the point where one road parts in three;<br /> +Thus I, lest turning of my neck my function might delay,<br /> +The motive world on either side without a move survey."<br /> +Thus spake the god with friendly mien and eye, that seem'd to say—<br /> +"If wish be yours to question more, command me; I obey."<br /> +Due thanks I gave; strong fear no more my eager tongue possess'd,<br /> +And with a look that sought the ground, the immortal I address'd.<br /> +"This would I know, why frosty days and storms begin the year,<br /> +Which flowery spring had usher'd in with more auspicious cheer;<br /> +Then all things flourish—all things then of youth and freshness tell,<br /> +The juicy vine begins to flow, the bud begins to swell;<br /> +With fresh green leaves the tree is clad, a virgin sheen appears,<br /> +The bursting seed above the ground the fresh green blade uprears.<br /> +With fresh full-throated warblings then the blithe birds stir the air,<br /> +And lamb and lambkin in the mead their frisking sports prepare.<br /> +Then suns are mild; its south retreat the stranger swallow leaves,<br /> +And skilful builds the well-known clay beneath the lofty eaves.<br /> +Then walks the ploughman forth; the clod yields to the sturdy steer;<br /> +Soothly the fittest time was this to omen in the year."<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +My words were many, but in words few and well-chosen, He,<br /> +Within the compass of two lines, thus made reply to me.<br /> +"What time the sun that sunk before mounts loftier to the view,<br /> +This fitliest closed the parting year, and usher'd in the new."<br /> +I ask'd again, "Why on this day the forum's strife should end<br /> +Only in part."—"The cause," said he, "I will explain; attend.<br /> +The young year's starting day I made but partial holiday,<br /> +Lest labourless begun, the year might run to the end in play;<br /> +Each cunning hand on Janus' feast makes prelude to his trade,<br /> +Of all the rest a timely test on New-Year's day is made."<br /> +Then I, this further—"Tell me why, when I bring frankincense<br /> +To Jove or any other god, with thee I still commence?"<br /> +"Because of things in heaven and earth I hold the sacred key,<br /> +The first approach to all the gods is made alone through me."<br /> +"But on thy kalends, why are men, so harsh on other days,<br /> +Keen to return the kindly look, and change the friendly phrase?"<br /> +To this the god, his strong right hand upon his good staff leaning,<br /> +"All ominous things when first observed speak out their fateful meaning.<br /> +To the first voice of things that cry, ye lend a trembling ear,<br /> +And the first flight of bodeful wings fills pious hearts with fear.<br /> +The ears are open of the gods, to catch on New-Year's day<br /> +What random words, or thoughtless prayer, a hasty fool may say."<br /> +Thus ceased the god; nor slow was I the broken thread to join,<br /> +But of the last words that he spake, thus trode the heels with mine.<br /> +"But what have dates to do with thee, and wrinkled figs, this tell,<br /> +And what the honey dew that drops pure from its snowy cell?"[<a name="f16.1" id="f16.1" href="#f16">16</a>]<br /> +"Here, too, an omen lies," he said; "the cause is passing clear,<br /> +That from sweet things a savour sweet may relish the whole year."<br /> +Thus taught, the cause I understood of dates, and figs, and honey;<br /> +"But tell me now, wise god!" I said, "what means the piece of money?"<br /> +He smiled. "Alas! how much thy age deceives thy wit," he said;<br /> +"As if sweet honey by the touch of gold were sweeter made.<br /> +Even in good Saturn's day, 'twas hard to find a heart all pure,<br /> +From the infection of base gain, and gainful lust secure.<br /> +Small at the birth, it grew apace the thirst of yellow ore,<br /> +Till heap on heap ye pile so high, that ye can pile no more.<br /> +Not so the measure was of wealth in Rome's primeval time,<br /> +When all was poor that now is rich, and low that's now sublime;<br /> +When a small hut was all that held the son of Mars divine,<br /> +And gather'd reeds were all the couch on which he drain'd the wine;<br /> +When Jove within his narrow cell erect could scarcely stand,<br /> +An earthen Jove, and of base clay the bolt that arm'd his hand.<br /> +When with wild-flowers the fane was deck'd that now with jewels gleams,<br /> +And his own sheep the senator fed near the rural streams;<br /> +When gently woo'd by healthy sleep the rustic warrior lay<br /> +On straw, and praised above all down a truss of bristling hay;<br /> +When to give laws to Rome the peasant consul left the plough,<br /> +And gold was then as great a crime as 'tis a virtue now.<br /> +But when our fates were lifted high, and to the stars sublime,<br /> +Perch'd on her base of seven-hill'd state proud Rome had learn'd to climb;<br /> +Wealth grew with power, and lust of wealth, a madness of the brain,<br /> +And still the more that they possess'd, the more they sought to gain.<br /> +Eager to make that they might spend, spending to make anew,<br /> +Change nursed by change of fell extremes to monstrous nature grew;<br /> +Thus he whose sickly body swells with water in the veins,<br /> +The more he drinks, the more within the thirsty fever reigns.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +All things are prized by price; to wealth all honours now are sure;<br /> +Wealth buys the rich man friends; forlorn and friendless pines the poor.<br /> +If now you ask why copper coins are chiefly my delight,<br /> +The ancient brass of Rome should I, the ancient Janus, slight?<br /> +Brass was their wealth of old; though now the better omen's gold,<br /> +And the new metal from the field has fairly beat the old.<br /> +Myself, though simple and severe, approve a golden shrine—<br /> +This metal hath a majesty that suits a power divine.<br /> +We praise the ancients, and 'tis well; but use our modern ways—<br /> +All fashions in due time and place are worthy of our praise."<br /> +Thus ceased the god; but I, to set all rising doubts at rest,<br /> +The hoar key-bearer of the sky thus with meek words address'd:—<br /> +"Much I have learn'd; but tell me this—why of our copper coin<br /> +Does one side bear a ship, and one a double head like thine?"[<a name="f17.1" id="f17.1" href="#f17">17</a>]<br /> +"That head is mine; you might have known the likeness of the face<br /> +But that hoar age and wear have dull'd the sharpness of the trace.<br /> +As for the ship, attend: the god that bears the scythe whilcome<br /> +Far-wandering in the Tuscan flood at length had ceased to roam.[<a name="f18.1" id="f18.1" href="#f18">18</a>]<br /> +Well I remember when he came, and hold the memory dear—<br /> +Saturn, by Jove expell'd from heaven, and kindly welcom'd here.<br /> +Thence was the land Saturnia call'd; and Latium still we name<br /> +The part where ancient Saturn lurk'd in safety when he came.[<a name="f19.1" id="f19.1" href="#f19">19</a>]<br /> +Our pious sires upon the brass the sacred ship impress'd,<br /> +Whose keel to blest Ausonian shores had borne the Olympian guest.<br /> +Then on that spot I made my home where Tiber's waters glide,<br /> +And eat the yielding banks away with sandy-rolling tide.<br /> +Here, where Rome stands, wild copse green grew; the busy forum now<br /> +Was then a peaceful glen, disturb'd by wandering oxen's low.<br /> +My fortress then was that same hill which pious Rome reveres<br /> +Even now, and thinks on Janus when Janiculum she hears.<br /> +Here I was king, when holy earth of heavenly guests could tell,<br /> +And in the haunts of men the gods were not ashamed to dwell;<br /> +Ere Justice, shrinking from the sight of human guilt and crime,<br /> +Last of immortals left the earth, and sought the starry clime;<br /> +When hearts were sway'd by love, and held by bonds of holy awe,<br /> +And light the labour was to shape for willing hearts the law.<br /> +Stern war I knew not, and the gates I held were gates of peace;<br /> +While in my hand the key declared—Let garner'd stores increase!"<br /> +Here closed the god his lips; but I, not bashful, open'd mine,<br /> +And with the mortal voice again unseal'd the voice divine.<br /> +"Since many gates are thine in Rome, say why dost thou appear<br /> +In perfect shape and size nowhere but at the forums here?"[<a name="f20.1" id="f20.1" href="#f20">20</a>]<br /> +Whereto the god, with gentle hand stroking his long beard hoary,<br /> +Forthwith recounted in my ear Œbalian Tatius' story;<br /> +And how, by Sabine gauds ensnared, the fair and faithless maid<br /> +The path that to the Capitol leads to the Sabine lord betray'd.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +"As there is now, so then there was, a slope by which you go<br /> +Steep from the citadel to the plain, and forum stretch'd below;<br /> +And now the twain had reach'd the gate where Juno's partial ward<br /> +The only bolts that closed their way propitiously unbarr'd,<br /> +When I, too wise with Saturn's seed in open fight to join,<br /> +Contrived a scheme that baffled hers, a plan entirely mine;<br /> +I oped (in opening lies my strength) a gate where waters slept,<br /> +And from the solid rock straightway a stream impetuous leapt;<br /> +To the hot spring such sulphurous steams my timely aid supplied<br /> +That eager Tatius quail'd and shrunk back from the rolling tide.<br /> +The Sabines fled; the gushing fount miraculous ceased to flow;<br /> +Nor pious Rome to own the power that sent such aid was slow;<br /> +A little altar on a shrine not large to Janus' name<br /> +Was raised; there sprinkled meal and cake smokes mingled with the flame."<br /> +"But this say further,—why thy gates in war are open, why<br /> +In peace are closed?" whereto the god thus gave the prompt reply;<br /> +"That till her sons fierce war have quench'd, and crush'd the crude revolt,<br /> +Rome to receive the homeward host may keep unbarr'd the bolt;<br /> +In peace my locks are closed, that none may causeless leave his home,<br /> +Nor few the years I shall be closed while Cæsar reigns in Rome."<br /> +Thus spake the god; and lifting high his head of diverse view,<br /> +Scann'd east and west, and all that's spread beneath the ethereal blue;<br /> +And peace rein'd o'er wide earth; ev'n where i' the north, with surly wave,<br /> +The rebel Rhine to Cæsar's arms their latest triumph gave;<br /> +Peace, hoary Janus, make thou sure for ever; and may they<br /> +Who purchased peace embrace the globe with everlasting sway.</td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>TO A BLIND GIRL.</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Blind Girl"> +<tr><td> +I do not sigh as some may sigh,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To see thee in thy darkness led</span><br /> +Along the path where sunbeams lie,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And bloom is shed.</span><br /> +<br /> +I do not weep as some may weep,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon thy rayless brow to look;</span><br /> +A boon more rare 'twas thine to keep,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">When light forsook.</span><br /> +<br /> +A glorious boon! Thou shalt not view<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">One treasure from the earth depart—</span><br /> +Its starry buds, its pearls of dew,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Lie in thy heart.</span><br /> +<br /> +No need to heed the frosty air,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">No need to heed the blasts that chafe,</span><br /> +The scatter'd sheaf, the vintage spare—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>Thy hoard is safe</i>.</span><br /> +<br /> +Thou shalt not mark the silent change<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That falls upon the heart like blight,</span><br /> +The smile that grows all cold and strange.—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Bless'd is thy night!</span><br /> +<br /> +Thou shalt not watch the slow decay,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor see the ivy clasp the fane,</span><br /> +Nor trace upon the column gray<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The mildew stain.</span><br /> +<br /> +<i>Ours</i> is the darkness—thine the light.<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Within thy brow a glory plays;</span><br /> +Shrine, blossom, dewdrop, all are bright<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">With quenchless rays.</span><br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;">J. D.</span></td></tr></table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> +<h3>THE FORCED SALE.</h3> + + +<p>A large red brick house, with a multitude of gable-ends, and rows of +small, dingy-looking windows, had hidden itself for many generations +in a clump of fine old trees in a large green field—almost qualified +to take rank as a park—at a distance of six or seven miles from St +Paul's. In the days of the good Queen Anne, the city lay comfortably +huddled up round the cathedral church, and looked upon her sister of +Westminster as too far removed, and of too lofty a rank, to be visited +except on rare occasions. London was then contained within reasonable +limits, and it was easy to walk round her boundaries; you could even +point out the precise spot at which the town ended and the country +began. The inhabitants of the large brick house, known by the name of +Surbridge Hall, at rare intervals, and then only to visit the shops, +undertook the journey into the city; and, unless in the stillest of +autumn evenings, when the enormous tongue of the metropolitan clock +made itself audible on the Surbridge lawn, they might have forgotten +that such a place as the capital was within fifty miles. That +generation died off; and London had begun to put out feelers in all +directions, and had outgrown the ancient limits. Streets began to move +out a little way into the country for change of air; and, in making +their usual shopping-visits to the great city, the inhabitants of +Surbridge Hall had now to drive through a short row of houses, where +the elders of the party remembered nothing but a hedge. That +generation also died out; and the city, like an old dowager who has +once been a beauty, and boasted of a waist, grew out of all shape. +There were squares and crescents rising in every quarter and the white +tops of chimneys, and the blue dinginess of roofs, became visible from +the upper windows of Surbridge Hall. The proprietor, terrified perhaps +by the approach of such neighbours, advertised the Hall for sale, +speedily found a purchaser, and, somewhere about the beginning of this +century, the old family name of the Walronds disappeared from the +country, and Surbridge Hall became the property of William Wilkins, +Esq. We may observe that, much about the same time, the name of the +senior partner disappeared from the door of a dingy-looking house in +Riches Court, and the firm of Wilkins & Roe was deprived of its larger +half. The old lion-rampant, that had stood on its hind-legs for so +many years on the top of one of the piers of the entrance gates, as if +in act to spring upon the deer that lay ruminating on the top of the +other, was now displaced; and, in a few days, his position was taken +by a plaster-of-Paris cast of Hebe, benevolently holding forth an +empty goblet towards the thirsty statue of Apollo which did duty on +the other side. The floors in the old hall were new laid, the windows +fitted with plate glass, the painting and decoration put into the +hands of a Bond-street finisher, who covered the walls with acres of +gilding, and hung chandeliers from the ceilings, and placed mirrors +upon the walls, till the rooms looked like the show galleries of an +upholsterer, and very different from the fine solid habitable +apartments they used to be in the time of the late proprietor. And a +change nearly as remarkable took place on Mr Wilkins himself as in his +house. He attended county meetings, and became learned in rents and +agriculture. He built new houses for his tenants, and only regretted +he had never learned to ride, or he would have followed the hounds. +But though he was no Nimrod, he dressed like one of his sons, and +encased his thick legs in top-boots, and generally carried a whip. At +last, by dint of good dinners, and voting on the right side at the +elections, he became a magistrate; and if Mrs Wilkins had had the +politeness to die, he would have married Lady Diana O'Huggomy, the +daughter of an Irish earl; but Mrs Wilkins did not die, and Lady Diana +ran away with a dancing-master. His son had been eighteen years at the +bar, and never had had a brief; his daughters had been twenty years on +the world, and never had had an offer;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> but he still expected to see +Richard lord chancellor, and his three girls peeresses. A country +gentleman, a county magistrate, perfectly healthy and tolerably rich, +was there any thing wanting to Mr Wilkins's felicity? Yes. Alexander +the Great was wretched when he had conquered the world, and was ten +times happier when he was breaking-in Bucephalus; and Mr Wilkins, if +the truth must be told, was very like Alexander the Great, at least in +his discontent, and was never so gay as he used to be in the dingy +mansion in Riches Court. The dinners he gave were formal, cold +affairs, where he never felt at his ease: he could not help thinking +that the neighbours quizzed and looked down on him; and, in short, he +felt out of his element, and longed sometimes for the free-and-easy +dinners he had relished so much in the city. His farm-houses were at +last all built, his improvements all completed, and there was no +further occupation for either himself or his money. He sometimes drove +into Harley Street to see his son, but he found that gentleman also on +the rack of idleness, and went home again, wondering how Roe was +getting on in the old premises, though never venturing to go near +him—for his family had insisted on a dead cut between the partners, +and could not endure the thoughts of Mr Roe coming between the wind +and their newly acquired nobility. Time wore on. Old Wilkins grew +older. He used to sit at the window of his drawing-room and look +towards London, fancying to himself the bustle and stir that were +going on, the crowding in Fleet Street, the crush at the Bank; and +occasionally imagination conjured up to him the image of an active +citizen bustling down towards the Exchange, radiant with success, and +filled with activity and hope; and he could scarcely recognise his own +identity with that joyous citizen, the William Wilkins of that happier +time. The flood of building, which had only reached to within three +miles of Surbridge when the Walronds retired to the ark of some estate +they retained in Yorkshire, had now increased to such a degree, as to +have submerged many of the fields and orchards that lay at very short +distance from the Hall. "Willars," with Italian fronts and little +greenhouses at the side, took post all along the road, and, from the +open windows, sounded in summer evenings the Battle of Prague, or God +save the King, so that you walked amidst perpetual music, for no house +was so ungenteel as to be without a piano. Surbridge Hall itself ran a +great risk of becoming a suburban villa at no distant time; and Mr +Wilkins was in some hopes that his family would allow him to consider +himself an inhabitant of London once more, and no longer doom him to +the cold nothingness of squireship and gentility. But whether they +might have relented in this respect can never be known; for while he +was meditating a renewal of his acquaintance with his late partner, +and an occasional dive into Riches Court, he changed his bed at the +Hall for the family vault (newly built) in Surbridge church, and his +great-coat and riding-whip for a Roman toga and a long gilt baton, +with which he pointed to heaven from the top of a splendid monument +near the south wall. Richard now succeeded to the family honours; and +as he had married a Miss Gillingham—a name which he preferred to his +ancestral appellation—he did her the honour to take it to himself, +and was duly enrolled in the list of justices as Wilkins Gillingham, +Esq. His son was sent to Christchurch, and his three daughters to a +fashionable boarding-school. His mother and sisters retired to +Tunbridge Wells, and they all began to persuade themselves that +Surbridge had been in the family from the time of the Conquest. By way +of strengthening their claims to county consideration, it was wisely +determined to oppose the building invasion as powerfully as they +could. Several farms and fields were bought, plantations were +skilfully placed, two or three feet were added to the height of the +walls all round the property; and it was hoped that some impression +was made on the advancing architectural enemy; for in the speculative +year of 1819, a dozen or two of builders were removed to the Queen's +Bench, and whole rows of houses were left looking up to heaven, in +vain expectation of a roof. Wilkins Gillingham<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> served the office of +High Sheriff, caught a surfeit in entertaining the judges, and in a +few weeks gave place to his heir. Augustus had passed two years at +Oxford—had then married a beauty—the daughter of a country surgeon +of the name of Howard; and as he inherited his father's tastes, along +with his property, he changed his family name; and poor old Widow +Wilkins, who still survived, enlivened the tea-tables of the Wells +with anecdotes and descriptions of her grandson, Gillingham Howard. +Death seemed entirely to have forgotten the relict of the original +William. She stood like an ancient pillar, to point out where the +building it once belonged to was placed; and was looked upon by her +descendants pretty much as a native American looks upon a venerable +squaw of some Indian nation—the connecting link between New York and +the woods. The widow was the sole point of union left between +Surbridge Hall and Riches Court. Whether her grandson did not relish +the reminiscence, or from what cause no one can hazard more than a +guess, certain it is that on the death of his wife, who left him with +two daughters, four or five years old, he did not summon his venerable +ancestor from the Wells, but installed one of her daughters—Aunt +Susannah—in the temporary charge of his house. By some secret +arrangement, into the causes of which we have no time to enquire, such +a change took place in Aunt Susannah, that though she left Tunbridge, +having secured her place in the inside of the coach in the name of +Miss S. Wilkins, she was brought out from London in Mr Howard's +carriage in the name of Miss S. Gillingham; and there was no person of +the name of Wilkins in the whole of the establishment. Aunt Susannah +was not a person to hesitate long as to a change of name. It had been +the whole object of her life, till five-and-thirty years of +disappointment had almost made her despair of succeeding in her +object, by the help of special license or even vulgar banns; and she +accordingly made no scruple in adopting the more euphonious +Gillingham, and sinking all mention of the other. Mr Gillingham Howard +followed the example of his predecessors. He was a <i>bona fide</i> country +gentleman, with the one drawback to his otherwise stupendous +respectability, of being the greatest drawer of the long-bow since the +days of Mendez Pinto. He added two feet more to the height of his +boundary walls, and bought all the disposable land round his estate; +but if he had transplanted a couple of miles of the Chinese wall to +Surbridge, he could no more have kept off the intrusion of the +barbarian villa-builders than the Celestials have been able to shut +out the same pushing, bustling, active, energetic, unabashable +individuals from the Flowery land. Architecture went on, and now the +gigantic city had stuck her arms so majestically on either hip, that +one of her elbows actually came into contact with the park of +Surbridge Hall. There was a gentle elevation—in those flat regions +honoured with the name of a hill—which lay at one side of the +Surbridge lands. It was a beautifully wooded little property of thirty +or forty acres, which it had always been the ambition of the Surbridge +owners to buy; but it was so involved with lawsuits or doubtful +titles, that it had hitherto been impossible to get possession of it +for love or money. The upper part of it rose high above the glades of +Surbridge park, and the clump of trees on the summit formed a very +fine object in the view from the drawing-room windows. It was all laid +down in the richest pasture, and would have formed the most valuable +addition to the property, both in making it compact and keeping it +secluded. The owner of it died at last in the Fleet, and it was +advertised for sale, with a perfect title and immediate possession. +The sale was by auction, and the day drew rapidly near. Mr Gillingham +Howard went carefully over the ground, examined the condition of his +credit—for his surplus cash was gone—had the property valued; and +determined to give a thousand more than its worth, to prevent it +falling into any one else's hands. When the day of sale arrived, he +placed himself in front of the auctioneer, and determined, by the +fierceness of his "bids," to frighten any competitor from the field. +The room was crowded, and the sale began. All the eloquence of the +celebrated Puff was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> displayed on this occasion; and when he paused +after his glowing description, and asked any gentleman to be kind +enough to name a sum to begin with—suggesting, at the same time, four +thousand pounds. "Gentlemen, shall we say four thousand guineas?" Mr +Gillingham Howard, in a voice that was calculated to show that he was +in earnest, and did not stand upon trifles, nodded his head, and said +"seven!" The auctioneer himself was overcome with the success of his +oratory, and there was a dead silence among the spectators. "Thank +you, sir—seven thousand guineas," he said, "Will any gentleman make +an advance?" looking round, at the same time, as if he considered it +useless to waste any breath in endeavouring to enhance the price. His +hammer mechanically went up, and was on the point of falling, when a +weak voice near the orator's pulpit whispered "eight."</p> + +<p>The voice proceeded from an old man wrapped up in a thick great-coat, +though it was a warm day in June—a clear-eyed, small-featured, +diminutive old man, who had sat the whole time, taking no apparent +interest in the proceedings. All eyes were turned upon him in a +moment, and he quietly repeated the awful monosyllable—"eight!" Mr +Gillingham Howard looked at the old gentleman with detestation in +every feature, for he felt that the person, whoever he was, was +actually robbing him of a thousand pounds; and he would have had very +few scruples in sending the culprit to Botany Bay for so tremendous an +outrage. A sort of smile ran round the assemblage at seeing the sudden +alteration produced on his countenance; and though he had determined +not to give more than the original seven, he was ashamed to be cowed +by an unknown individual at once; and after a few minutes' pause, and +a glance of ineffable hatred at the little old man, who had relapsed +into his state of contented unconcern, he looked at the auctioneer, +and said, "Five hundred more!" Saying this, he put his hands into his +pockets, and kept his eye fixed on his competitor. Without a moment's +hesitation, the old gentleman nodded his head once more, and said, "Mr +Puff, I'm in a hurry. Will this gentleman give ten thousand guineas? I +will!"</p> + +<p>The auctioneer gave one look to Mr Gillingham Howard, and saw, from +the blank expression of that gentleman's countenance, that competition +was at an end. The hammer fell, and seemed like a great rock on Mr +Gillingham Howard's heart.</p> + +<p>"Your name, if you please, sir," said Mr Puff.</p> + +<p>The little old gentleman rose up and said, "Give me a pen and ink. +I'll write an order for the money. My name is Thomas Roe, No. 20,. +Riches Court."</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> <ins class="correction" title="Original reads 'IV'">II</ins>.</h4> + +<p>A week had passed, and Mr Gillingham Howard nursed his wrath, like Tam +O'Shanter's wife, to keep it warm. The name of the successful +purchaser had struck him with a feeling of horror; for as silence had +brooded for fifty years over the history of his grandfather—and as +the misty period preceding the purchase of Surbridge had given rise to +a whole mythology of ancestry like to the anti-historic periods of +Greece, and other imaginative nations—he looked upon the appearance +of the veritable contemporary of that fabulous age in the same way as +Romulus would have regarded any surviving friend and companion of the +real <i>bona fide</i> robber or pig-driver to whom he probably owed his +birth. It is needless, therefore, to say, that over all other feelings +fear and disgust predominated. He determined to withdraw himself into +still more aristocratic seclusion than before, and on no account to +recognise the existence of his new neighbour. A month or two passed +on, and no steps seemed taken on the part of the purchaser to avail +himself of his new acquisition. Day after day Mr Gillingham Howard +looked up to the tuft of trees that crowned the beautiful field beyond +his park, and on seeing no symptoms of cutting down, nor other +preparations for house-building,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> began to indulge in the pleasing +anticipation that the old gentleman had no intention of the kind; and +by cherishing this idea for some time, he succeeded at last in +believing, that if he did in reality turn his ground to any such a +purpose, he would be guilty of a fresh injustice. Three months had +elapsed, and the beautiful colours of Autumn just unfurled themselves +in order to be struck at the first broadside of a November frost—the +sun was shining so warmly, that the leaves had every reason to be +ashamed of their yellow complexions; and a young lady—like a +butterfly awakened by the brightness of the day—fluttered forward +from the porch of Surbridge Hall, dressed in all the hues of the +rainbow. A green bonnet, a pink pelisse, a red shawl, and lilac +parasol, were scarcely in keeping with the sylvan scene on which she +hurriedly entered. She was very tall and very thin, and had been +taught to walk by a Parisian <i>promeneuse</i> at a guinea a lesson; so +that the tail of her gown described a half circle every time she +stept, and her progress was apparently on the principle of the +propeller screw. A small sketch-book was under her arm, and across her +wrist she bore a supernumerary shawl. "If he should be there again," +she thought, "he will surely speak. He looked as if he wished to do it +last time. But he's bashful, perhaps, to a person of my rank. Poor +fellow—how handsome he looked as he turned away!" The thought seemed +to be a pleasant one, for a sort of smile rose to her thin lips as she +dwelt on it, and she increased her pace. She opened a little gate, and +moved rapidly on towards an ornamental poultry-house near the boundary +of the estate. The extra shawl was soon spread upon the stump of a +tree, the sketch-book opened, and with her eye intently fixed on the +fantastic chimney of the hen-house, she listened for every sound. She +moved the pencil as if busily engaged in sketching; but, strange to +say, the figure produced by her touch, took (involuntarily as it were) +the appearance of a very handsome young man, for whose bright eyes and +smiling countenance there was no warrant in the twisted bricks and +oddly shaped cans of the original. As if her drawing had been the +mystic configurations of a conjurer, the spirit came when she did call +for it; and with a side glance of her eye, she perceived at no great +distance from her a young man, who seemed to be gazing at her with +great earnestness, and was only prevented from addressing her by the +awe, that formed of course the body-guard of a daughter of Mr +Gillingham Howard. There are many ways in which it is possible to show +that the said body-guard may be broken through, without subjecting the +culprit to the penalties of high-treason. A short cough, as if +preparatory to a conversation—a hurried look, and then a scarcely +perceptible smile—a sort of fidgety uneasiness, as if the stump of +the tree was something rather different from an air-cushion—such were +the methods pursued by Miss Arabel Howard on the present occasion with +complete success. The stranger combated with his respect, and going +near to where the sketcher—again utterly unconscious of his presence, +was putting in a tuft of ivy—he took off his hat and bowed—</p> + +<p>"Ha!" exclaimed Miss Arabel, in a state of most becoming surprise.</p> + +<p>"I hope I do not alarm you, madam," said the stranger; "though my +sudden presence here requires an apology."</p> + +<p>"Oh!—I beg—I feel sure—any gentleman—my father will be most happy +to"——</p> + +<p>"You are very kind. I perceive you appreciate the beauty of this +situation as much as I do. You are sketching the gable and +chimney"——</p> + +<p>"Yes—but pray don't look."</p> + +<p>But before she had time to close the page and clasp the book, he had +caught a view of a well drawn hat, and very tastefully touched +whiskers.</p> + +<p>The stranger smiled.</p> + +<p>"It is indeed a beautiful little work," he continued.</p> + +<p>"And the building so very picturesque. Grandpapa pulled down a row of +cottages that the poor people lived in, and built this romantic little +hermitage."</p> + +<p>"So I have heard."</p> + +<p>"Oh, have you? Grandpapa improved this place very much. Think how the +view must have been spoilt by a row of nasty cottages, and a crowd of +horrid poor people."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>"It was very near the church for the cottagers."</p> + +<p>"Oh! but papa is going to get the horrid old church removed to the +other end of the parish, and have a beautiful building instead of the +present tumble-down old ruin."</p> + +<p>"Taste seems hereditary in your family."</p> + +<p>"It is indeed: ages ago great improvements were made by papa's +grandfather. He got quit of all the cottages except the row that stood +here—for what can be more horrid than the sight of a set of dirty +ignorant people in such beautiful scenery? They should all live in a +common, or hide themselves in some dark streets in London. Don't you +think so?"</p> + +<p>"A great many of them do; but, if I were a sketcher, I think I could +make a very interesting subject out of a poor man's cottage, with his +little children playing about the garden."</p> + +<p>"Not real poor children!" exclaimed Miss Arabel, "nor a real poor +man—no. I have made sketches myself of papa and the Misses +Warrible—Sir Stephen Warrible's daughters—dressing them in fancy +rags, and filling the garden they played in with flowers from our +conservatory, and giving the cottage French windows and a trellis-work +veranda. He stands leaning on a spade, with silver buckles in his +shoes, and the children are playing <i>La Grace</i> with the hoops, covered +with pink ribands. I called it 'The Poor Man's Joy;' and Lord Moon has +begged me to give it to an engraver."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will comply with his lordship's request."</p> + +<p>"I would if I could escape the publicity of the thing. Papa would be +so angry if he thought I was so nearly professional as to be the +author of a published sketch."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid your father is too particular. No scruple of the kind +fettered the genius of one of the princesses of France."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but she was one of the new people! There was no artist in the +elder branch. Papa can't endure Louis Philippe, and says they are all +very low."</p> + +<p>The gentleman was attacked with a slight cough, and after a pause +renewed the conversation.</p> + +<p>"I think I have seen you engaged on this subject for some time."</p> + +<p>"It takes a long time to get in all these twists and corners," replied +Miss Arabel with a smile of satisfaction, to find that the recontre +was not more one of chance on his side than her own.</p> + +<p>"Do you devote yourself entirely to sketching?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no! I paint as well. We have a large gallery at home, and it is an +excellent school. The family portraits are, many of them, very fine."</p> + +<p>"Does it go far back in the English school?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you should see the great wigs of the Charleses and jack-boots of +the cavaliers! We were all cavaliers, I suppose, for I don't see a +single roundhead among them."</p> + +<p>"And the ladies?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, such hoops and farthingales! such pyramids of muslin on their +heads, and pillars of red leather upon their heels!"</p> + +<p>"And is the painting good of that ancient date? How do you like it +compared to the modern?"</p> + +<p>"We have very few modern portraits; and none of any ladies later than +George II."</p> + +<p>"No?" enquired the young man anxiously. "No lady later than that? Ah, +then I have been misinformed!" he added in a disappointed tone.</p> + +<p>"Had you heard of our collection, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—no—that is—I believe, in most old family houses, there is a +regular series of portraits that may enable the student to trace the +alterations of the English school from its very commencement."</p> + +<p>"Oh—a student—are you?—that is—have I the pleasure of speaking to +a painter?" enquired Miss Arabel with great dignity.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, madam; only an admirer of the art."</p> + +<p>"And you are disappointed at the want of recent female portraits," +said Arabel more graciously, the faintest possible hope springing to +her heart that he was disappointed at the absence of her own.</p> + +<p>"I should like to have heard the opinion of a competent judge on so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +interesting a subject. A comparison between Kneller for instance and +Sir Joshua would be worthy of your taste."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Kneller by all means, and Lely better than both! I believe, now +that you put me in mind of it, there is a pale colourless Sir Joshua +in the nursery—the school-room I mean."</p> + +<p>"A lady?" enquired the stranger.</p> + +<p>"A person," replied Miss Arabel, who never allowed lady's rank to any +one whose status she did not know—"with long hair falling about her +face, and a little boy lying asleep in her lap. Whether she was a lady +or not, I don't know, but I rather think not, for I never heard of her +being connected with our family. Perhaps she was a nurse."</p> + +<p>"And are you sure it is a Sir Joshua?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!—His name is written on the back; and Mr Ochre, my +drawing-master, says it is all out of proportion, and of no merit at +all. But why are you so anxious about the daub? Mr Ochre wishes to be +allowed to retouch it."</p> + +<p>"If he lays a brush on it"—the stranger began in a furious tone, but +checked himself—"if he lays a brush on it, he will spoil an old +master."</p> + +<p>"A master!" said Miss Arabel with a contemptuous giggle. "I only wish +you could see it."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could," replied the young gentleman; "but I am afraid I +shall never be so happy."</p> + +<p>"Oh!"—The young lady did not say any thing more, but looked at the +stranger, as if taking measure of his respectability to see if an +<i>entrée</i> to Surbridge Hall was really above his hopes. He was tall, +well made, with an air such as she had not seen in any of the visitors +at that aristocratic mansion.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure," she repeated, looking down and speaking with interesting +hesitation, "my papa would be happy to show his gallery to any +gentleman in the neighbourhood. Perhaps you know papa?"</p> + +<p>"I have not the honour, but since I know what a treasure he possesses, +I should think it a great happiness to make his acquaintance."</p> + +<p>The lady said nothing, but thought it the most neatly turned +compliment she ever heard in her life.</p> + +<p>"I am on a visit to a family near this," he continued, "and may +perhaps have the opportunity of meeting Mr Howard.</p> + +<p>"Oh, where is it?" exclaimed Miss Arabel. "What is their name? We know +every body in the neighbourhood—that is, of course, you know"——</p> + +<p>"Every body that's worth knowing," said the stranger with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. Is it the Rayleighs of Borley Castle, we know them very +well; or the Manbys of Flixley Abbey, delightful people, we are quite +intimate with them; or the Sundridges of Fairley Manor, there are no +pleasanter people in the world—so good, so ladylike, and yet they say +Mrs Sundridge's father was something very low, a Calcutta merchant, or +India director, or something of that sort. Is it any of these?"</p> + +<p>"No! It is with a gentleman who has lately taken a small villa in the +neighbourhood, and I am afraid he will think I have been absent from +him too long. Do you sketch here every day?"</p> + +<p>"Till I have finished this tiresome building," replied Miss Arabel. "I +must avail myself of the fine weather, and not miss a single morning."</p> + +<p>The gentleman smiled, and so did the lady. With another apology for +having intruded, he bowed and withdrew.</p> + +<p>Miss Arabel continued where she was, till she lost his graceful figure +among the windings of the shrubbery.</p> + +<p>"He is a charming man," she thought, "and might easily manage to get +acquainted with papa if he chose. Who can he be?—he's very clever and +very accomplished—and walks so nobly. I wonder if he is in the +Guards."</p> + +<p>She opened her sketch-book once more, and was busy with her pencil, +and her thoughts at the same time. She had not seen what necessity +there was for taking his leave so hurriedly, and perhaps a faint idea +came to her, that it was not impossible he might return. While she was +new-pointing her pencil, and recalling all that the stranger had said, +she heard a footstep coming through the plantation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>"Hush! He is coming again. He can't stay away."</p> + +<p>"Servant, young mum—servant, and all that," said a voice close behind +her;—"Scratch! scratch! there you go, painting bricks as if they was +Christians, and all that."</p> + +<p>"Sir! Are you aware this is private property. Papa would be very angry +if"——</p> + +<p>"He heard I was here. I dassay he would, and all that—but I don't +intend to wait for him here. I'll beat up his quarters at the hall—I +will—and all that."</p> + +<p>Miss Arabel had a profound contempt for old people and little people; +and the person who at present addressed her was both little and old. +He wore a short flaxen wig, and a spenser over a long-tailed blue +coat; grey nether habiliments, with four or five inches of a white +worsted stocking visible between his knee and his gaiter. It was a +very well-shaped leg, and the owner thereof seemed to know it.</p> + +<p>"You will not find papa at home," said Miss Arabel. "He has gone out +to a magistrate's meeting."</p> + +<p>"I didn't say I was going there to-day, did I?—and he don't go +justicing every day in the week, I hope. I'll see him soon, depend +on't, and make acquaintance with his young 'uns, and all that. How +many is there of you?"</p> + +<p>"My sister and myself—if you enquire as to the number of Mr +Gillingham Howard's family," replied Miss Arabel.</p> + +<p>"What! ha'n't ye picked up ne'er a man yet? ne'er a one on you? Is +your sister any thing like yourself?"</p> + +<p>Miss Arabel cast a look of haughty indignation on her questioner; but +disdained a reply.</p> + +<p>"Pr'aps you're looking out for a juke or a bernet, or some regular +nobleman, and all that—for I hear you carries all your heads uncommon +high—whereby it wouldn't be unagreeable to pull 'em down a bit, and +all that. Come, come, don't pout nor be sulky. Be friendly, young +'oman, now that we're going to be neighbours, and all that."</p> + +<p>"Friendly, indeed!" said Miss Arabel, with a toss of her head that +would have snapped a martingale in fifty pieces. "Pray walk on, sir. I +am a lady, and papa would be very indignant at your impertinence."</p> + +<p>"I dassay he would; but not a bit more than I have been at his'n this +many a long day. Why, I've dandled him on my knee a hundred times."</p> + +<p>"Have you? Perhaps you were his nurse's husband, or the butler. If you +come to the servants' hall"——</p> + +<p>"Indeed! What to do? To see fine ladies' maids give themselves airs, +and disgust people with their insolence and affectation. Much obliged +to you all the same; but when I wants to see sights like that, I'll +come into the drawing-room."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean, and beg you'll retire. Papa put an Irish +beggar into prison for three weeks for insulting my aunt."</p> + +<p>"What! old Susie—old Two-to-the-Pound, and all that. He must have +been very much of an Irishman to insult the old Roman."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, sir? Do you know my aunt Susannah?"</p> + +<p>"Ay, to be sure. Ain't I one of her elders? Lord love ye, I've known +old Susie since she was just up to my knee—and a reg'lar speciment +she was. We always called her Two-to-the-Pound. Many's the laugh her +father and I has had about her dumpiness, and all that."</p> + +<p>"Papa's grandfather? Did you know him, sir?" enquired Miss Arabel, +examining her companion at the same time to see if he was not the +Wandering-Jew or St Leon; for she considered her papa's grandfather as +the principal personage of a very remote historical era; and would +have been little more surprised to hear that the old gentleman before +her had smoked cigars with Sir Walter Raleigh. "Did you know my +great-grandfather, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't I? There wasn't a bigger snob, though I says it, in all +England; and just about two-and-forty years ago, him and me was as +thick as two thieves, though only one of us was a thief. He was a old +man then, and I was a young 'un, and all that. Your father was summut +about eight years old, and my daughter was born the very month afore +he bought this here estate. So you see it ain't no great<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> time to talk +about, seeing my daughter aint a old 'oman yet, though she has a girl +twenty year old."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand what you say," repeated Miss Arabel.</p> + +<p>"Old Susie will understand me better, and so will little Gus."</p> + +<p>"Who is Gus?"</p> + +<p>"Gus is your father—Augustus he was christened; but we always called +him Gus. Well, it's quite pleasant, I declare, to be among old +friends; and I'm glad I've took a willa so close."</p> + +<p>The sound of the word "willa," even with the initial "w," attracted +Miss Arabel's attention. Could it be possible that this was the old +gentleman with whom the handsome stranger was on a visit?</p> + +<p>"If you live so near, you can, of course, have an opportunity of +seeing papa."</p> + +<p>"Seeing him? yes, and telling him a bit of my mind. I'll see every +thing in the house—from old Susie Two-to-the-Pound, down to the last +born kitten. You keeps cats of course, and all that? Susie must be +pleased to see me. Sich laughs, to be sure, we had about her and a +young man of the Excise. He was about seven feet high, and she wa'n't +above four and a half, so we always called him her young man of the +extra size. Wasn't it funny? But he died of a decline; and I hear +she's a broad as she's long. Well, we must all die!"</p> + +<p>"I must wish you good-day, sir. I'm going home," said Miss Arabel, +rising to go away, and assuming as much dignity as she could.</p> + +<p>"Well, good-day, and good-luck to you," said the old man. "Why, how +tall you are! and the wick not half covered. You wouldn't do credit to +old Bill Wilkins's manufacture, though I says it as shouldn't. You +ain't much better than one of the single dips. I'll call on your +father one of these fine days; for now that I've come to the +neighbourhood, I've little better to do than pay off old scores—and +interest's been running on for two-and-forty years. Tell him he had +better set a price on Surbridge, and prepare to move, for I want to +buy the estate for a friend of mine."</p> + +<p>"I beg, sir—I insist—I don't know you, sir," said the agitated and +angry Arabel.</p> + +<p>"He does though. He knows me precious well; and, what's more, you may +tell him my name if you like."</p> + +<p>"I will tell him, sir, that he may send you to prison for your +impertinence. He's a magistrate."</p> + +<p>"I know all about him. He's a boastful blockhead. Tell him I told you +so. My name is Mr Thomas Roe, 20, Riches Court."</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> III.</h4> + +<p>The account given by Miss Arabel of her interview with the hateful +purchaser of the coveted meadows, was so confused, that to persons +less interested in the matter than Mr Gillingham Howard and Miss +Susannah Wilkins, (or Gillingham by brevet,) it would have been +altogether unintelligible. But before these two terror-struck +individuals rose a vision of their detected boasts and overthrown +pretensions, that filled them with dismay. What! Mr Gillingham Howard +exposed in all quarters as the descendant of a tallow-chandler, and +the censorious Miss Susan as having been known from her childhood by +the name of Two-to-the-Pound? Could they silence the accuser by +making him their friend?—or could they repel his revelations by dint +of unhesitating, unqualified lying?—or finally, would it be necessary +to quit the neighbourhood? Mr Gillingham Howard was a tall portly man, +with his hair slightly grizzled, and an air of quiet assurance +reposing on his somewhat coarse features, which his partial aunt +considered the solemn dignity of virtue and high birth. To a less +blinded observed his narrow brow and heavy chin showed strong +indications of the animal preponderating over the intellectual in his +organization, and his slow, solemn talk—always about himself—showed +the importance he attached to the slightest incident that had occurred +to so distinguished an individual. Not that Mr Gillingham Howard, as +we remarked before, limited his narratives merely to what had actually +occurred—they diffused themselves over every circumstance that had +happened to any one else, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> might by any possibility have happened +to him. By this means he had an extraordinary fund of conversational +anecdote; for whatever story he heard, or adventure he read, he +immediately appropriated to himself; and thought nothing of killing +his eight hundred ducks at one shot with Munchausen, or finding out +false concords in a Greek play with the Bishop of London. His aunt was +so used to hear his marvellous tales, that we must in charity suppose +she believed some of them to be true; and in that persuasion she was +called upon on all occasions to bear witness to the facts. She +testified accordingly, with the most perfect readiness, to all his +achievements in the rows at Oxford; his suggestions to the other +magistrates, that were always approved; his courage in every danger; +his mastery in every game, and his skill in every science. She was a +little, vulgar-looking woman, with small cunning eyes, and a very +round face, glistening and shining with its absurd obesity; and in +shape and complexion bearing a close resemblance to a sun-flower stuck +into a Dutch cheese. The awe with which she regarded her nephew arose +partly from his size, but principally from the aristocratic loftiness +of his birth—being the third in descent from the original founder of +the family, while nothing stood between her and the tallow vat except +the six years during which her father had enacted the country squire. +What could be more appalling to these unhappy beings than the +threatened visit, and long-delayed vengeance of the implacable Thomas +Roe? In the mean time, Miss Arabel had only a confused notion of the +meaning of all the threats and messages, the mere report of which +wrought such anguish in the paternal breast. Her thoughts dwelt more +constantly on the interview she had had with the mysterious stranger; +and the speech he had made about the treasure he had heard of in +Surbridge Hall, came every moment to her mind. It was so pretty a +speech; and he looked so full of admiration when he said it! Was there +no way of getting him introduced to papa? Not a word of the meeting +could she mention to her sister; for Miss Arabel was one of those +amiable beings not uncommon in ball-rooms, who will not risk the peace +of mind of a friend by making her acquainted with a rich or +fascinating partner on any account. And if this holds good with a +friend, much more in the case of Miss Arabel did it hold good with a +sister. So she sat in her own room and devised fifty expedients for +legitimating her acquaintance with the interesting unknown.</p> + +<p>But while Surbridge Hall is frightened from its propriety, let us pass +over for a moment to the hostile camp, and see what is going on there. +A beautiful young girl is sitting at a table, on which a number of +maps and plans are laid out; and, while her eyes are busily running +over the various lines and measurements, her small white hand is +resting we are sorry to say, without making the smallest effort for +liberty, within that of the very same young gentleman whose appearance +we have already commemorated. Beautiful blue eyes they are, and fitter +for other employment than to pore over architectural or horticultural +designs; and so she seems to think, for she occasionally lifts them to +those of her companion, and a sweet smile brightens over all her face. +That is Fanny Smith, the granddaughter of Thomas Roe—the child of a +Yorkshire parson, who had been lucky enough to win the heart of Mary +Roe—and wise enough not to despise her father, though he lived in +Riches Court.</p> + +<p>"But grandpapa says it is of no use, Charles, to look at all these +plans for houses. He'll never build on the new ground, for he says he +is determined to establish us at Surbridge Hall."</p> + +<p>"The old gentleman is too sanguine," replied Charles. "He will never +persuade the present proprietor to leave it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he will, though! You don't know what a determined man grandpapa +is. He'll weary them out—or shame them away."</p> + +<p>"Shame!" enquired the other—"How do you think shame can have any +effect in people so lost to truth, and so encased in ignorance and +conceit?"</p> + +<p>"But grandpapa will expose them—and, besides, he'll pay them +hand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>somely to go. I don't the least despair of getting quit of them."</p> + +<p>"Why, if people would only take the trouble to enquire into the actual +facts of any part of their behaviour, and not take their own account +of it—the boastful falsehoods of the nephew, the malicious +insinuations of the aunt, their disregard of truth in serious affairs +as well as in trifles, their selfishness, narrow-mindedness, and want +of charity—they would hesitate before they countenanced such +characters, in spite of the dinners they occasionally give, and the +position they hold. But society winks on vices which it is the duty of +society to punish, since the law takes no cognizance of them, though +more hurtful and disgraceful than theft or swindling. And, I am +afraid, even if your grandfather unmasks the solemn pretender, he will +still carry his head as high as if he had a right from any quality but +his wealth to mix with honest men."</p> + +<p>"Oh, never fear!" said Fanny, laughing; "those boastful people are +always easiest frightened, and a very short time will see us in +Surbridge Hall."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Fanny, that would be too much happiness! I've heard of nothing +but Surbridge since I was a child; and if my father could but see me +in it, living there, my own property, or yours, Fanny, which is the +same thing, he would almost die with joy; but no, no, it is +impossible."</p> + +<p>"Impossible! deuce a bit of it!" exclaimed the old gentleman himself; +bustling into the room. "I tell you that Surbridge is the house you +will take Fanny home to. I've a great mind to say you sha'n't marry +her at all unless she gives you Surbridge as part of her fortune."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't say that, sir!"</p> + +<p>"No, don't say that, grandpapa, for you know those horrid people may +be obstinate," said Fanny.</p> + +<p>"I should like to see them," said the old man knitting his brow. "No, +no, they must go. The bully is soon bullied. See, he has sent me a +flag of truce already; a note asking if I will allow him to call on me +at three o'clock to renew his old acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"And will you let him?" enquired Fanny.</p> + +<p>"To be sure I will; and I'll return his visit too; but he'll be here +in a few minutes now. I think you had better take a walk, Charles, and +leave Fanny and me to entertain them. You can go and take some more +lessons in sketching, eh? Don't keep your teacher waiting."</p> + +<p>Charles looked at his watch, and then at Fanny, and finally hurried +away as he was ordered. The young lady also left the room.</p> + +<p>The old man sat down, and sank in thought. He had his eye on the +conduct of his partner's grandson for forty years, though little did +that ostentatious individual suspect that any person saw within his +pharisaical exterior, and knew him for the mass of selfishness, +falsehood, and meanness, he actually was. Moreover the old gentleman +knew that his victim was not so rich as he appeared, and had struggled +in vain to better his fortunes by speculations of various kinds, and +even (the last refuge of the sinking respectables) by thrusting +himself into trusteeships. He felt an assurance, therefore, that his +threatened exposures—united to an offer of the full value of the +estate—would secure him the possession of Surbridge Hall; if it had +not been for the enjoyment he anticipated in uncloaking the hypocrite, +he might perhaps have contented himself with the acquisition of the +land.</p> + +<p>A knock was heard at the door, and Mr Gillingham Howard and his aunt +walked into the room. Mr Gillingham Howard was very pale, and his eye +evidently quailed as it met the glance of Mr Thomas Roe. The little +fat Susannah was immensely red in the face, but whether from agitation +of mind, or the exertion of climbing the hall steps, it is impossible +to decide.</p> + +<p>"I've called, my dear old friend, to take you by the hand," said Mr +Gillingham Howard. "I've long wished, I assure you, to renew our +acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"That's a thumper!" replied the old man; "you have wished nothing of +the kind. Oh, Gus, haven't you conquered the horrid habit of +story-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>telling that used to make you the laughing-stock of all the +young men in the shop. And you, my little Two-to-the-Pound, what a +time it is since we've met, never since the exciseman died, I do +believe. Well, you've not grown thin on't. Do you study the ninth +commandment as much as you used to do?"</p> + +<p>"The ninth commandment, sir," said the lady tossing her head. "I don't +know what you mean."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do, Susan; the ninth commandment is the one about false +witness, you know. And sich a gal as you used to be for slashing a +character, or trying to make your kindest friends ridiculous, there +wasn't in all the city. You were always so tremendously witty, you +never had a good word for any body; for witty gals, as you used to be, +thinks nothing funny that isn't what they calls severe. But you're a +old woman now, and I hope you're improved."</p> + +<p>Miss Susannah had never been called an old woman before. If she had +seen Mr Gillingham Howard looking with his usual brazen assurance, she +would have broken out in a torrent of invective against her merciless +tormentor—but the fight was entirely out of that illustrious +character, and he stood in trembling silence before his opponent.</p> + +<p>"My dear sir," he said at last, "you are too severe on my aunt—but +you were always a wag. I've heard my father say he never knew any one +so full of humour."</p> + +<p>"Indeed?"</p> + +<p>"And I myself remember how good-natured you used to be when you +visited my father in Harley Street."</p> + +<p>"Ay, indeed—let me see. Had your father risen to be at the top of the +profession by that time, with a promise of the chancellorship in his +pocket when his father died?"</p> + +<p>"My dear sir, I don't know what you mean—why—what"—</p> + +<p>Haven't you been in the habit of telling your friends so after +dinner?" enquired Mr Roe; "now, remember."</p> + +<p>"Well! I may perhaps have said that he hoped to be chancellor."</p> + +<p>"No, no—you have uniformly stated as a fact that he had the written +promise of the office—and you have constantly appealed to your aunt +for the truth of your statement."</p> + +<p>"La! Mr Roe—how should I know about law and chancellorships? It isn't +a lady's business."</p> + +<p>"It is a lady's business not to corroborate a falsehood."</p> + +<p>"Really, my good sir," said Mr Gillingham Howard, "you are too hard on +a little after-dinner talk."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit, not a bit—that after-dinner talk, as you call it, for +forty years, day after day retailing falsehoods, and asseverating them +so constantly, that you at last almost succeed in deceiving yourself, +does away all the distinctions in your mind between truth and +falsehood—and when once the boundary is broke down, there is no +farther pause. A man may go on, and boast about his cricket and +shooting till he would not stick at a false oath."</p> + +<p>"Sir! I bear many things from an old friend of our family, but an +imputation on my veracity is intolerable. Do I ever deviate from the +truth, Aunt Susan?"</p> + +<p>"You! Oh, no! if there's any quality you excel in more than another, +it is your truth. Low people may tell lies, and of course do; but you! +Mr Gillingham Howard!—you are a perfect gentleman, from the crown of +your head to the sole of your foot."</p> + +<p>"Omitting all the intermediate parts," replied Mr Roe. "You know very +well what I mean, sir; and, moreover, you know that what I say is +true—but I will spare you at present. I wish to purchase Surbridge +Hall. I will give you the full price. Will you sell it or not?"</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, a place that has been long in one's family"——</p> + +<p>"I was nearly forty years old when it was bought—and hope to live few +years yet," interposed Mr Roe.</p> + +<p>"And I don't see what pleasure you could take in acquiring a place to +which you have no hereditary ties—my poor father—and my dear +grandfather"——continued Mr Gillingham Howard.</p> + +<p>"Should have stuck to the melting tub, both of them—but it isn't for +myself I want the property. I have <i>a</i> grandchild, sir; a +grandson—but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> that has nothing to do with it. Will you let me have +your answer soon? I will call on you, to hear your decision, +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Always happy to see an old friend."</p> + +<p>"Provided he come with a new face," interposed Mr Roe; "but you don't +much like the sight of my rough old phiz. At any rate, there's no +deceit in it, and now we understand each other."</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Chapter</span> IV.</h4> + +<p>It was on the day succeeding this visit of reconciliation, that Miss +Arabel and the stumpy Susannah pursued their way to the shrubbery +walk, in a rapid and mysterious manner, as if they hoped to escape +observation.</p> + +<p>"Papa is so unreasonable, aunt," said the young lady. "Why should he +wish to leave Surbridge, just when"——</p> + +<p>"You think you have caught a lover," interposed the aunt; "don't be +too sure. You've been deceived in that way before now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you only saw him! He met me yesterday, and said he would see +me again to-day; and paid such compliments, and looked so handsome."</p> + +<p>"But who is he? Is he a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he is," replied Miss Arabel; "or do you think he would +venture to speak to <i>me</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Did he tell you his name?"</p> + +<p>"No. All he has told me is—he is living with an old gentleman in one +of the villas in the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"An old gentleman," mused Miss Susannah, "in a villa—it must be the +same—it must be old Roe's Grandson. If it is, and he takes a fancy to +this girl, it will be all well yet. What has he ever called you? Did +he ever say you were an angel?"</p> + +<p>"No. He thought me one, though; and said he had heard of what a +treasure Surbridge contained; and yesterday he repeated it, and said +he would give the world to be able to call it his."</p> + +<p>"That's something. You must get him to say something of the kind +before a witness."</p> + +<p>"But how? What witness can there be, when I can never bring him to the +house?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Ah, how I recollect, in the back parlour," said Miss +Susannah, her memory unconsciously wandering back to the love +incidents of her youth.</p> + +<p>"The back parlour?" enquired Miss Arabel.</p> + +<p>"The back—I didn't say back parlour. I said black parlour—the oaken +dining-room in my father's house."</p> + +<p>"And what of it, aunt? What made you think of the black parlour now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was a picture," stammered Miss Susan, inventing an excuse for +her mistake; "a beautiful old portrait—a sort of—I don't recollect +what it was."</p> + +<p>"Ah! that puts me in mind of what he speaks of often—the pictures in +our house. I say, aunt," she continued, as if a thought had struck +her.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose I were to invite him to come into the Hall and see the +portraits?"</p> + +<p>"Well, so you might. Your father would think he was as fond of drawing +as you are; and if he be the person I think he is, your father will be +delighted that you have made a friend of him."</p> + +<p>"Indeed? Oh, I'm so happy! I'll ask him to the house this very day; +and perhaps if he says anything, aunt, about the treasure, you can be +in the way to hear it."</p> + +<p>"That I will, and I'll bring your father, too. There's nothing like a +father or brother in cases of the kind. If I had had a brother that +would fight, I might have been married myself. Dear me, what an +uncommon handsome young man in the avenue! I know him to be a lord by +his walk."</p> + +<p>Miss Arabel stretched her neck, and nearly strained her eyeballs in +the effort to follow the direction of Susannah's eyes.</p> + +<p>"That's he," she said; "go now, and leave me to get him into the +house."</p> + +<p>"He can't be any relation of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> Thomas Roe: he's too handsome for that," +thought Miss Susannah; "but whoever he is, she'll be a lucky girl to +catch him. My Sam was a foot or two taller, but very like him in every +other respect—except the limp in the left leg."</p> + +<p>As she turned back before entering the house, she saw the young people +in full conversation in the shrubbery walk.</p> + +<p>"Well, if he <i>is</i> old Thomas Roe's grandson, and Arabel can hook him +into a marriage, there will be no occasion to leave Surbridge Hall. +Does the monster wish us to be tallow-chandlers again?"</p> + +<p>On hurrying to the drawing-room to communicate to her nephew the fact +that Mr Roe's heir was desperately in love with Arabel, she found Mr +Gillingham Howard endeavouring to carry on a conversation with the +very individual she most dreaded to see. Mr Roe had walked up, +accompanied by Fanny Smith, to return the visit of the day before.</p> + +<p>"This is so kind," said Miss Susannah, "and so friendly to bring your +pretty grandchild. Our girls will be delighted to be her friends."</p> + +<p>"Fanny's a good girl," replied the old man; "and you mustn't spoil +her. Gus was just going to tell me if he had made up his mind, when +you came in. You've thought of my offer, Gus?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; any thing you say shall always have my best consideration. +As far as I am concerned, I could settle in Bucks, where I have a +small estate, with satisfaction; but my girls are enthusiastically +attached to this place. Arabel would break her heart if we took her +away from Surbridge."</p> + +<p>"I warrant her heart against all breakage and other damages, save and +except the ordinary wear and tear—as Puff says in letting a furnished +house; and, if it only depends on the young lady, I think I'll answer +for her being more anxious for the arrangement than I am. But here's +company coming, and I must have your answer before I go."</p> + +<p>Mr Gillingham Howard heard the carriage stop at the door. He felt it +was impossible to present so rough-mannered a man as Mr Roe to any of +his friends without a certainty of exposure, and he was strongly +tempted to agree to his demand at once, if he would immediately leave +the house; but before he had time to arrange his thoughts, the door +opened, and the Rayleighs of Borley Castle were announced.</p> + +<p>Mr Gillingham Howard, by a great effort, received them with his usual +courtesy.</p> + +<p>"I have brought Mr Tinter with me," said Mrs Rayleigh, "and I hope you +will let him see your family portraits. We have told him so much of +them, that he is anxious to see them himself. He is writing a +description of the private collections in the county."</p> + +<p>Mr Tinter bowed; and Mr Gillingham Howard, with an imploring look to +Mr Roe, who sat resting his chin upon his walking-stick, professed +himself highly honoured by Mrs Rayleigh's request.</p> + +<p>"I believe you have portraits of the Sidney family, sir," said Mr +Tinter, "as I hear from Mrs Rayleigh—you are nearly related to them; +I should like very much to compare them with the pictures at +Penshurst."</p> + +<p>"Oh! Mr Howard says the Penshurst pictures are only copies of his," +said Mrs Rayleigh.</p> + +<p>"Did I, madam? Did I say all?"</p> + +<p>"If not all, you said most of them; and also, that you had some +originals of those in your distant relation, the Duke of Norfolk's gallery."</p> + +<p>Mr Gillingham Howard felt that Mr Roe's appalling eye was fixed upon +him, though he did not venture to look in the direction of where he sat.</p> + +<p>"Mr Tinter will tell you at once which are the copies. You can do that, Mr Tinter?"</p> + +<p>"I can guess at the age of the picture, and the name of the painter, +if he is a master," replied Mr Tinter.</p> + +<p>"Oh! but Mr Howard has some pictures that Sir Thomas Lawrence said +were the finest in Europe. Didn't he say so, Mr Howard?"</p> + +<p>"Why, ma'am—I think—at least, so I understood him. Didn't Sir Thomas +Lawrence praise some of my pictures, aunt?"</p> + +<p>"I really don't remember," said Miss Susannah, looking more at Mr Roe +than at her nephew.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>"Oh, I thought you told us last time we dined here, that Sir Thomas +stayed with you weeks at a time, and copied five or six of them +himself."</p> + +<p>"P'r'aps I knows more of them family portraits," said Mr Roe with a +wilful exaggeration of accent and magnanimous contempt of +grammar—"than e'er a one on ye."</p> + +<p>All eyes were immediately directed to the old man. Mrs Rayleigh, who +was a fine lady, and had never seen so queer a specimen of a critic as +Mr Roe, was a little alarmed at his uncouth pronunciation. And Mr +Gillingham Howard made a feeble and unsuccessful effort to deaden the +effect of his remarks.</p> + +<p>"My friend is a remarkably good judge of the fine arts, but quite a +character. An amazing humourist, and very much given to quizzing. +You'll hear what fun he'll make of us all."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" enquired Mrs Rayleigh, in the same confidential whisper.</p> + +<p>"A person who has grown very rich in some sort of trade. He was a +protegé of a relation of mine."</p> + +<p>"And you bear with his eccentricities in hopes of his succession?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly."</p> + +<p>"I minds the getting of the whole lot on 'em. I can give you the +birth, parentage, and edication, of every one on 'em."</p> + +<p>"Of the pictures, sir?" enquired Mr Tinter, taking out his note-book. +"I shall be delighted with any information."</p> + +<p>"But where is the gallery, Mr Howard?" enquired Mrs Rayleigh.</p> + +<p>"Why, madam, many of the pictures—in fact, all the best of them are +in London at the cleaner's; but in the passage to the Conservatory +there are some remaining, but the place is dark. I hope you'll rather +look at them some other time."</p> + +<p>"Now's the best," said Mr Roe, starting up. "Let's see the family +picters, Gus."</p> + +<p>Mr Howard was forced by the entreaties of all the party, and led the +way to the passage where his pictures were hung, followed by Mrs +Rayleigh and her two daughters, and Mr Tinter, Mr Roe, and Fanny, and +Aunt Susannah.</p> + +<p>"That seems a portrait of Queen Anne's time," said Mr Tinter, pointing +to a much bewigged old gentleman in an antique frame. "Pray, what is +its history?"</p> + +<p>"Isn't that your grandfather's uncle, the general who won the battle +of Ramillies against Marlborough's orders?" enquired Mrs Rayleigh. "Do +tell Mr Tinter all about it."</p> + +<p>"I reminds all about it," said Mr Roe, before the agonized Mr Howard +could make any reply. "One of our agents failed, and we seized on his +furniture, and old Bill Wilkins took this'n 'cause of the oak frame. +He was a grocer in the Boro', and his name was—was—but I forgets his +name."</p> + +<p>"Who took the furniture?" asked Mr Tinter, "and who was a grocer in +the Boro'?"</p> + +<p>"The man as had that picter, and a sight more besides. There's one on +'em; the young 'oman a holding an orange in her hand, and a parrot on +her shoulder."</p> + +<p>"I thought that was the Saccharissa, Mr Howard, that had been in your +family ever since the time of Waller."</p> + +<p>"I told you he was a wag," said Mr Howard, in the last desperate +struggle to avoid detection.</p> + +<p>"But who is he? He is a very impudent old man to be so free."</p> + +<p>"He is rich; the succession, you know," replied the gentleman with a +forced laugh; but before he could mumble any thing more, the party +turned round one of the corners of the passage, and heard voices in +earnest talk.</p> + +<p>"How can I refuse, when you tell me your happiness depends on it?" +came distinctly to the ears of all, in the sharp clear tones of Miss +Arabel.</p> + +<p>"You are too good," replied a voice, which Fanny Smith immediately +recognized as that of Charles. "You will make my whole family proud +and happy when they hear you have consented."</p> + +<p>"But won't you think I yield too soon; and without having asked papa's +consent?"</p> + +<p>"Ah—yes—I don't know how he will bear the loss of such a treasure. +But he will reconcile himself to the want of it when he knows how +happy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> it makes another in the possession. Say, when may I call it +mine?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, now—this moment—any time"—said Arabel, who had heard a noise +in the passage, and concluded it was aunt Susannah enacting the part +of a witness.</p> + +<p>"Again I thank you!"—exclaimed Charles. "I will take it in my arms +this instant, and carry it down the shrubbery walk to Mr Roe's."</p> + +<p>"As you please—and wherever you like," said Arabel, throwing herself +upon his shoulder. "I'm your's."</p> + +<p>"Why, what in the name of wonder is all this here?" cried Mr Roe, +hurrying on, and pouncing on the pair. "Are you making love to this +here gal in the very presence of Fanny Smith?"</p> + +<p>"I, sir?"—said Charles, astonished at his situation, and still +supporting Miss Arabel, who pretended to be in a faint. "I asked this +young lady to show me the picture of my father's mother; and, to my +great delight, she said she would give it me; and, when I expressed my +gratitude, she flung herself upon my shoulder, and said she would give +me herself."</p> + +<p>"And was it not me you meant by the treasure you talked of?" said Miss +Arabel, starting up.</p> + +<p>"No, madam. 'Twas my grandmother's portrait, by Sir Joshua Reynolds."</p> + +<p>"Now, that's all right," said Mr Roe. "This young gentleman is the one +I talked of, Gus—that I wants to buy this house for. I don't think +your daughter will care to give it up to poor Charles that she took +such a fancy to"——</p> + +<p>"They seem attached, sir," replied Mr Howard. "And if they like to +marry"——</p> + +<p>"Bah!—he's to be married next week to my little grandchild, Fanny +Smith, and we'll include the pictures in the purchase-money, for one +of them is a portrait that was left by mistake when Bill Wilkins +bought the hall, and he would never give it back to the real owners. +But, now that Charles Walrond is to be my grandson, I'll take good +care he recovers his grandmother's likeness. Come—shall I go on and +give these ladies the facts of some of your other stories, or will you +close with my terms at once?"</p> + +<p>Mr Gillingham Howard did not take long to decide, and a very short +time saw Surbridge Hall once more in the ancient line; and old Mr Roe, +in relating the means he used to expel the vainglorious descendant of +his partner, generally concluded with the moral, if not the words of +Shakspeare—"Men's pleasant vices make whips to scourge them."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>VANITIES IN VERSE.</h3> + +<h4><span class="smcap">By B. Simmons</span>.</h4> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Letters of the Dead</span>.</h4> +<h4><span class="smcap">To Livia</span>.</h4> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Letters of the Dead"> +<tr><td> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">I.</span><br /> +<br /> +How few the moons since last, immersed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">In thoughts of fev'rish, worldly care,</span><br /> +My casket's heap'd contents reversed,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I sought some scroll I wanted there;</span><br /> +How died at once abstraction's air—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">How fix'd my frame, as by a spell,</span><br /> +When on THY lines, so slight, so fair,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">My hurrying glance arrested fell!</span><br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">II.</span><br /> +<br /> +My soul that instant saw thee far<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sit in thy crown of bridal flowers,</span><br /> +And with Another watch the star<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We watch'd in vanish'd vesper hours.</span><br /> +And as I paced the lonely room,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I wonder'd how that holy ray</span><br /> +Could with its light a world illume<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">So fill'd with falsehood and decay.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">III.</span><br /> +<br /> +Once more—above those slender lines<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I bend me with suspended breath—</span><br /> +The hand that traced them now reclines<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Clasp'd in th' unclosing hand of Death.</span><br /> +The worm hath made that brow its own<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Where Love his wreath so lately set;</span><br /> +And in this heart survive alone<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Forgiveness—pity—and regret.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">IV.</span><br /> +<br /> +'Twas 'mid the theatre's gay throng—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Life's loveliest colours round me spread—</span><br /> +That mid the pauses of a song,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I caught the careless "<i>She is dead!</i>"</span><br /> +The gaudy crowd—thy sudden grave—<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">I shrank in that contrasting shock,</span><br /> +Like midnight Listener by the wave,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">When splits some bark upon the rock.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">V.</span><br /> +<br /> +This <span class="smcap">Early Death</span>—within its pale<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sad air each angry feeling fades—</span><br /> +An evening haze, whose tender veil<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The landscape's harsher features shades.</span><br /> +Ah, Scornful One—thy bier's white hue<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Stole every earth-stain from thy cheek,</span><br /> +And left thee all to <span class="smcap">Memory's</span> view<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That <span class="smcap">Hope</span> once dared in thee to seek.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +1836.</td></tr></table> + + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Parting Precepts</span>.</h4> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Parting Precepts"> +<tr><td> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">I.</span><br /> +<br /> +How graceful was that Grecian creed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Which taught that tongues, of old,</span><br /> +Dwelt in the mountain and the mead,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And where the torrent roll'd,</span><br /> +And that in times of sacred fear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">With sweet mysterious moans,</span><br /> +They spoke aloud, while some pale Seer<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Interpreted their tones.[<a name="f21.1" id="f21.1" href="#f21">21</a>]</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">II.</span><br /> +<br /> +And, <span class="smcap">Lady</span>, why should we not deem<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That in each echoing hill,</span><br /> +And sounding wood, and dancing stream,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A language lingers still?</span><br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +No lovelier scenes round <span class="smcap">Delphi</span> spread<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Than round thee stretch divine;</span><br /> +Nor Grecian maid bent brighter head<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">By haunted stream than thine.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">III.</span><br /> +<br /> +Then fancy thus that to thine ear,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">While dies the autumn day,</span><br /> +The <span class="smcap">Voices</span> of <span class="smcap">the Woodlands</span> bear<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">This tributary lay.</span><br /> +Soft winds that steal from where the moon<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Brightens the mountain spring,</span><br /> +Shall blend with Mulla's[<a name="f22.1" id="f22.1" href="#f22">22</a>] distant tune,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And these the words they sing:—</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">1.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Thou'st shared our thousand harmonies;<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>At morn</i> thy sleep we stirr'd</span><br /> +With sounds from many a balmy breeze,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And many a jocund bird;</span><br /> +And far from Us, when pleasure's lure<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Around thy steps shall be,</span><br /> +Ah, keep thy soul as freshly pure<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As We came pure to thee!</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">2.</span><br /> +<br /> +"<i>At noon</i>, beneath September's heat,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Was it not sweet to feel,</span><br /> +Through shadowy grasses at thy feet,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Our silver waters steal?</span><br /> +Sparklingly clear, as now the truth<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Seems in thy glance to glow;</span><br /> +So may, through worldly crowds, thy youth<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A stainless current flow.</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">3.</span><br /> +<br /> +"<i>At eve</i>, our hills for thee detain'd<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">The sun's departure bright.</span><br /> +He sank—how long our woods were stain'd<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">For thee with rosy light!</span><br /> +The worth, the warmth, the peace serene,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Thou'st known our vales among,</span><br /> +Say, shall they be reflected seen<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Upon thy heart as long?</span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;">4.</span><br /> +<br /> +"Morn, noon, and eve—bird, beam, and breeze,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Here blent to bless thy day;</span><br /> +May portion of their memories<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Be ever round thy way!</span><br /> +Sweet waters for the weary Bark,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Through parching seas that sails;</span><br /> +Friends may grow false and fortune dark,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">But <span class="smcap">Nature</span> never fails."</span></td></tr></table> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> +<h3>COLERIDGE AND OPIUM-EATING.[<a name="f23.1" id="f23.1" href="#f23">23</a>]</h3> + + +<p>What is the deadest of things earthly? It is, says the world, ever +forward and rash—"a door-nail!" But the world is wrong. There is a +thing deader than a door-nail, viz., Gillman's Coleridge, Vol. I. +Dead, more dead, most dead, is Gillman's Coleridge, Vol. I.; and this +upon more arguments than one. The book has clearly not completed its +elementary act of respiration; the <i>systole</i> of Vol. I. is absolutely +useless and lost without the <i>diastole</i> of that Vol. II., which is +never to exist. That is one argument, and perhaps this second argument +is stronger. Gillman's Coleridge, Vol. I., deals rashly, unjustly, and +almost maliciously, with some of our own particular friends; and yet, +until late in this summer, <i>Anno Domini</i> 1844, we—that is, neither +ourselves nor our friends—ever heard of its existence. Now a sloth, +even without the benefit of Mr Waterton's evidence to his character, +will travel faster than that. But malice, which travels fastest of all +things, must be dead and cold at starting, when it can thus have +lingered in the rear for six years; and therefore, though the world +was so far right, that people <i>do</i> say, "Dead as a door-nail," yet, +henceforwards, the weakest of these people will see the propriety of +saying—"Dead as Gillman's Coleridge."</p> + +<p>The reader of experience, on sliding over the surface of this opening +paragraph, begins to think there's mischief singing in the upper air. +No, reader—not at all. We never were cooler in our days. And this we +protest, that, were it not for the excellence of the subject, +<i>Coleridge and Opium-Eating</i>, Mr Gillman would have been dismissed by +us unnoticed. Indeed, we not only forgive Mr Gillman, but we have a +kindness for him; and on this account, that he was good, he was +generous, he was most forbearing, through twenty years, to poor +Coleridge, when thrown upon his hospitality. An excellent thing +<i>that</i>, Mr Gillman, and one sufficient to blot out a world of libels +on ourselves! But still, noticing the theme suggested by this unhappy +Vol. I., we are forced at times to notice its author. Nor is this to +be regretted. We remember a line of Horace never yet properly +translated, viz:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Nec scuticâ dignum horribili sectêre flagello."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The true translation of which, as we assure the unlearned reader, +is—"Nor must you pursue with the horrid knout of Christopher that man +who merits only a switching." Very true. We protest against all +attempts to invoke the exterminating knout; for <i>that</i> sends a man to +the hospital for two months; but you see that the same judicious poet, +who dissuades an appeal to the knout, indirectly recommends the +switch, which, indeed, is rather pleasant than otherwise, amiably +playful in some of its little caprices, and in its worst, suggesting +only a pennyworth of diachylon.</p> + +<p>We begin by professing, with hearty sincerity, our fervent admiration +of the extraordinary man who furnishes the theme for Mr Gillman's +<i>coup-d'essai</i> in biography. He was, in a literary sense, our +brother—for he also was amongst the contributors to <i>Blackwood</i>—and +will, we presume, take his station in that Blackwood gallery of +portraits, which, in a century hence, will possess more interest for +intellectual Europe than any merely martial series of portraits, or +any gallery of statesmen assembled in congress, except as regards one +or two leaders; for defunct major-generals, and secondary +diplomatists, when their date is past, awake no more emotion than last +year's advertisements, or obsolete directories; whereas those who, in +a stormy age, have swept the harps of passion, of genial wit, or of +the wrestling and gladiatorial reason, become more interesting to men +when they can no longer be seen as bodily agents, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>than even in the +middle chorus of that intellectual music over which, living, they +presided.</p> + +<p>Of this great camp Coleridge was a leader, and fought amongst the +<i>primipili</i>; yet, comparatively, he is still unknown. Heavy, indeed, +are the arrears still due to philosophic curiosity on the real merits, +and on the separate merits, of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Coleridge as a + +poet—Coleridge as a philosopher! How extensive are those questions, +if those were all! and upon neither question have we yet any +investigation—such as, by compass of views, by research, or even by +earnestness of sympathy with the subject, can, or ought to satisfy, a +philosophic demand. Blind is that man who can persuade himself that +the interest in Coleridge, taken as a total object, is becoming an +obsolete interest. We are of opinion that even Milton, now viewed from +a distance of two centuries, is still inadequately judged or +appreciated in his character of poet, of patriot and partisan, or, +finally, in his character of accomplished scholar. But, if so, how +much less can it be pretended that satisfaction has been rendered to +the claims of Coleridge? for, upon Milton, libraries have been +written. There has been time for the malice of men, for the jealousy +of men, for the enthusiasm, the scepticism, the adoring admiration of +men, to expand themselves! There has been room for a Bentley, for an +Addison, for a Johnson, for a wicked Lauder, for an avenging Douglas, +for an idolizing Chateaubriand; and yet, after all, little enough has +been done towards any comprehensive estimate of the mighty being +concerned. Piles of materials have been gathered to the ground; but, +for the monument which should have risen from these materials, neither +the first stone has been laid, nor has a qualified architect yet +presented his credentials. On the other hand, upon Coleridge little, +comparatively, has yet been written, whilst the separate characters on +which the judgment is awaited, are more by one than those which Milton +sustained. Coleridge, also, is a poet; Coleridge, also, was mixed up +with the fervent politics of his age—an age how memorably reflecting +the revolutionary agitations of Milton's age<ins class="correction" title="Blank space in original.">. Cole</ins>ridge, also, was +an extensive and brilliant scholar. Whatever might be the separate +proportions of the two men in each particular department of the three +here noticed, think as the reader will upon that point, sure we are +that either subject is ample enough to make a strain upon the amplest +faculties. How alarming, therefore, for any <i>honest</i> critic, who +should undertake this later subject of Coleridge, to recollect that, +after pursuing him through a zodiac of splendours corresponding to +those of Milton in kind, however different in degree—after weighing +him as a poet, as a philosophic politician, as a scholar, he will have +to wheel after him into another orbit, into the unfathomable <i>nimbus</i> +of transcendental metaphysics. Weigh him the critic must in the golden +balance of philosophy the most abstruse—a balance which even itself +requires weighing previously, or he will have done nothing that can be +received for an estimate of the composite Coleridge. This astonishing +man, be it again remembered, besides being an exquisite poet, a +profound political speculator, a philosophic student of literature +through all its chambers and recesses, was also a circumnavigator on +the most pathless waters of scholasticism and metaphysics. He had +sounded, without guiding charts, the secret deeps of Proclus and +Plotinus; he had laid down buoys on the twilight, or moonlight, ocean +of Jacob Boehmen;[<a name="f24.1" id="f24.1" href="#f24">24</a>] he had cruised over the broad Atlantic of Kant +and Schelling, of Fichte and Oken. Where is the man who shall be equal +to these things?</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>We at least make no such adventurous effort; or, if ever we should +presume to do so, not at present. Here we design only to make a +coasting voyage of survey round the headlands and most conspicuous +sea-marks of our subject, as they are brought forward by Mr Gillman, +or collaterally suggested by our own reflections; and especially we +wish to say a word or two on Coleridge as an opium-eater.</p> + +<p>Naturally the first point to which we direct our attention, is the +history and personal relations of Coleridge. Living with Mr Gillman +for nineteen years as a domesticated friend, Coleridge ought to have +been known intimately. And it is reasonable to expect, from so much +intercourse, some additions to our slender knowledge of Coleridge's +adventures, (if we may use so coarse a word,) and of the secret +springs at work in those early struggles of Coleridge at Cambridge, +London, Bristol, which have been rudely told to the world, and +repeatedly told, as showy romances, but never rationally explained.</p> + +<p>The anecdotes, however, which Mr Gillman has added to the personal +history of Coleridge, are as little advantageous to the effect of his +own book as they are to the interest of the memorable character which +he seeks to illustrate. Always they are told without grace, and +generally are suspicious in their details. Mr Gillman we believe to be +too upright a man for countenancing any untruth. He has been deceived. +For example, will any man believe this? A certain "excellent +equestrian" falling in with Coleridge on horseback, thus accosted +him—"Pray, sir, did you meet a tailor along the road?" "<i>A tailor</i>!" +answered Coleridge; "<i>I did meet a person answering such a +description, who told me he had dropped his goose; that if I rode a +little further I should find it; and I guess he must have meant you</i>." +In Joe Miller this story would read, perhaps, sufferably. Joe has a +privilege; and we do not look too narrowly into the mouth of a +Joe-Millerism. But Mr Gillman, writing the life of a philosopher, and +no jest-book, is under a different law of decorum. That retort, +however, which silences the jester, it may seem, must be a good one. +And we are desired to believe that, in this case, the baffled +assailant rode off in a spirit of benign candour, saying aloud to +himself, like the excellent philosopher the he evidently was, "Caught +a Tartar!"</p> + +<p>But another story of a sporting baronet, who was besides a Member of +Parliament, is much worse, and altogether degrading to Coleridge. This +gentleman, by way of showing off before a party of ladies, is +represented as insulting Coleridge by putting questions to him on the +qualities of his horse, so as to draw the animal's miserable defects +into public notice, and then closing his display by demanding what he +would take for the horse "including the rider." The supposed reply of +Coleridge might seem good to those who understand nothing of true +dignity; for, as an <i>impromptu</i>, it was smart and even caustic. The +baronet, it seems, was reputed to have been bought by the minister; +and the reader will at once divine that the retort took advantage of +that current belief, so as to throw back the sarcasm, by proclaiming +that neither horse nor rider had a price placarded in the market at +which any man could become their purchaser. But this was not the +temper in which Coleridge either did reply, or could have replied. +Coleridge showed, in the <i>spirit</i> of his manner a profound sensibility +to the nature of gentleman; and he felt too justly what it became a +self-respecting person to say, ever to have aped the sort of flashy +fencing which might seem fine to a theatrical blood.</p> + +<p>Another story is self-refuted: "a hired partisan" had come to one of +Coleridge's political lectures with the express purpose of bringing +the lecturer into trouble; and most preposterously he laid himself +open to his own snare by refusing to pay for admission. Spies must be +poor artists who proceed thus. Upon which Coleridge remarked—"That, +before the gentleman kicked up a dust, surely he would down with the +dust." So far the story will not do. But what follows is possible +enough. The <i>same</i> "hired" gentleman, by way of giving unity to the +tale, is described as having hissed. Upon this a cry arose of "turn +him out!" But Coleridge interfered to protect him; he insisted on the +man's right to hiss if he thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> fit; it was legal to hiss; it was +natural to hiss; "for what is to be expected, gentlemen, when the cool +waters of reason come in contact with red-hot aristocracy, but a +hiss?" <i>Euge!</i></p> + +<p>Amongst all the anecdotes, however, of this splendid man, often +trivial, often incoherent, often unauthenticated, there is one which +strikes us as both true and interesting; and we are grateful to Mr +Gillman for preserving it. We find it introduced, and partially +authenticated, by the following sentence from Coleridge +himself:—"From eight to fourteen I was a playless day-dreamer, a +<i>helluo librorum</i>; my appetite for which was indulged by a singular +incident. A stranger, who was struck by my conversation, made me free +of a circulating library in King's Street, Cheapside." The more +circumstantial explanation of Mr Gillman is this: "The incident indeed +was singular. Going down the Strand, in one of his day-dreams, +fancying himself swimming across the Hellespont, thrusting his hands +before him as in the act of swimming, his hand came in contact with a +gentleman's pocket. The gentleman seized his hand, turning round, and +looking at him with some anger—'What! so young, and yet so wicked?' +at the same time accused him of an attempt to pick his pocket. The +frightened boy sobbed out his denial of the intention, and explained +to him how he thought himself Leander swimming across the Hellespont. +The gentleman was so struck and delighted with the novelty of the +thing, and with the simplicity and intelligence of the boy, that he +subscribed, as before stated, to the library; in consequence of which +Coleridge was further enabled to indulge his love of reading."</p> + +<p>We fear that this slovenly narrative is the very perfection of bad +story-telling. But the story itself is striking, and, by the very +oddness of the incidents, not likely to have been invented. The +effect, from the position of the two parties—on the one side, a +simple child from Devonshire, dreaming in the Strand that he was +swimming over from Sestos to Abydos, and, on the other, the +experienced man, dreaming only of this world, its knaves and its +thieves, but still kind and generous—is beautiful and picturesque. +<i>Oh! si sic omnia</i>!</p> + +<p>But the most interesting to us of the <i>personalities</i> connected with +Coleridge are his feuds and his personal dislikes. Incomprehensible to +us is the war of extermination which Coleridge made upon the political +economists. Did Sir James Steuart, in speaking of vine-dressers, (not +<i>as</i> vine-dressers, but generally as cultivators,) tell his readers, +that, if such a man simply replaced his own consumption, having no +surplus whatever or increment for the public capital, he could not be +considered a useful citizen? Not the beast in the Revelation is held +up by Coleridge as more hateful to the spirit of truth than the +Jacobite baronet. And yet we know of an author—viz. one S.T. +Coleridge—who repeated that same doctrine without finding any evil in +it. Look at the first part of the <i>Wallenstein</i>, where Count Isolani +having said, "Pooh! we are <i>all</i> his subjects," <i>i. e.</i> soldiers, +(though unproductive labourers,) not less than productive peasants, +the emperor's envoy replies—"Yet with a difference, general;" and the +difference implies Sir James's scale, his vine-dresser being the +equatorial case between the two extremes of the envoy.—Malthus again, +in his population-book, contends for a mathematic difference between +animal and vegetable life, in respect to the law of increase, as +though the first increased by geometrical ratios, the last by +arithmetical! No proposition more worthy of laughter; since both, when +permitted to expand, increase by geometrical ratios, and the latter by +much higher ratios. Whereas, Malthus persuaded himself of his crotchet +simply by refusing the requisite condition in the vegetable case, and +granting it in the other. If you take a few grains of wheat, and are +required to plant all successive generations of their produce in the +same flower-pot for ever, of course you neutralise its expansion by +your own act of arbitrary limitation.[<a name="f25.1" id="f25.1" href="#f25">25</a>] But so you would do, if you +tried the case of <i>animal</i> increase by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> still exterminating all but +one replacing couple of parents. This is not to try, but merely a +pretence of trying, one order of powers against another. That was +folly. But Coleridge combated this idea in a manner so obscure, that +nobody understood it. And leaving these speculative conundrums, in +coming to the great practical interests afloat in the Poor Laws, +Coleridge did so little real work, that he left, as a <i>res integra</i>, +to Dr Alison, the capital argument that legal and <i>adequate</i> provision +for the poor, whether impotent poor or poor accidentally out of work, +does not extend pauperism—no, but is the one great resource for +putting it down. Dr Alison's overwhelming and <i>experimental</i> +manifestations of that truth have prostrated Malthus and his +generation for ever. This comes of not attending to the Latin +maxim—"<i>Hoc</i> age"—mind the object before you. Dr Alison, a wise man, +"<i>hoc</i> egit:" Coleridge "<i>aliud</i> egit." And we see the result. In a +case which suited him, by interesting his peculiar feeling, Coleridge +could command</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Attention full ten times as much as there needs."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>But search documents, value evidence, or thresh out bushels of +statistical tables, Coleridge could not, any more than he could ride +with Elliot's dragoons.</p> + +<p>Another instance of Coleridge's inaptitude for such studies as +political economy is found in his fancy, by no means "rich and rare," +but meagre and trite, that taxes can never injure public prosperity by +mere excess of quantity; if they injure, we are to conclude that it +must be by their quality and mode of operation, or by their false +appropriation, (as, for instance, if they are sent out of the country +and spent abroad.) Because, says Coleridge, if the taxes are exhaled +from the country as vapors, back they come in drenching showers. +Twenty pounds ascend in a Scotch mist to the Chancellor of the +Exchequer from Leeds; but does it evaporate? Not at all: By return of +post down comes an order for twenty pounds' worth of Leeds cloth, on +account of Government, seeing that the poor men of the ——th regiment +want new gaiters. True; but of this return twenty pounds, not more +than four will be profit, <i>i. e.</i>, surplus accruing to the public +capital; whereas, of the original twenty pounds, every shilling was +surplus. The same unsound fancy has been many times brought forward; +often in England, often in France. But it is curious, that its first +appearance upon any stage was precisely two centuries ago, when as yet +political economy slept with the pre-Adamites, viz. in the Long +Parliament. In a quarto volume of the debates during 1644-5, printed +as an independent work, will be found the same identical doctrine, +supported very sonorously by the same little love of an illustration +from the see-saw of mist and rain.</p> + +<p>Political economy was not Coleridge's forte. In politics he was +happier. In mere personal politics, he (like every man when reviewed +from a station distant by forty years) will often appear to have +erred; nay, he will be detected and nailed in error. But this is the +necessity of us all. Keen are the refutations of time. And absolute +results to posterity are the fatal touchstone of opinions in the past. +It is undeniable, besides, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> Coleridge had strong personal +antipathies, for instance, to Messrs Pitt and Dundas. Yet <i>why</i>, we +never could understand. We once heard him tell a story upon +Windermere, to the late Mr Curwen, then M.P. for Workington, which was +meant, apparently, to account for this feeling. The story amounted to +this: that, when a freshman at Cambridge, Mr Pitt had wantonly amused +himself at a dinner party in Trinity, in smashing with filberts +(discharged in showers like grape-shot) a most costly dessert set of +cut glass, from which Samuel Taylor Coleridge argued a principle of +destructiveness in his <i>cerebellum</i>. Now, if this dessert set belonged +to some poor suffering Trinitarian, and not to himself, we are of +opinion that he was faulty, and ought, upon his own great subsequent +maxim, to have been coerced into "indemnity for the past, and security +for the future." But, besides that this glassy <i>mythus</i> belongs to an +æra fifteen years earlier than Coleridge's, so as to justify a shadow +of scepticism, we really cannot find, in such an <i>escapade</i> under the +boiling blood of youth, any sufficient justification of that withering +malignity towards the name of Pitt, which runs through Coleridge's +famous <i>Fire, Famine, and Slaughter</i>. As this little viperous +<i>jeu-d'esprit</i> (published anonymously) subsequently became the subject +of a celebrated after-dinner discussion in London, at which Coleridge +(<i>comme de raison</i>) was the chief speaker, the reader of this +generation may wish to know the question at issue; and in order to +judge of <i>that</i>, he must know the outline of this devil's squib. The +writer brings upon the scene three pleasant young ladies, viz. Miss +Fire, Miss Famine, and Miss Slaughter. "What are you up to? What's the +row?"—we may suppose to be the introductory question of the poet. And +the answer of the ladies makes us aware that they are fresh from +larking in Ireland, and in France. A glorious spree they had; lots of +fun; and laughter <i>à discretion</i>. At all times <i>gratus puellæ risus ab +angulo</i>; so that we listen to their little gossip with interest. They +had been setting men, it seems, by the ears; and the drollest little +atrocities they do certainly report. Not but we have seen better in +the Nenagh paper, so far as Ireland is concerned. But the pet little +joke was in La Vendée. Miss Famine, who is the girl for our money, +raises the question—whether any of them can tell the name of the +leader and prompter to these high jinks of hell—if so, let her +whisper it.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Whisper it, sister, so and so,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">In a dark hint—distinct and low."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Upon which the playful Miss Slaughter replies:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Letters <i>four</i> do form his name.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">*<span class="spacer"> </span>*<span class="spacer"> </span>*</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He came by stealth and unlock'd my den;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And I have drunk the blood since then</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of thrice three hundred thousand men."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Good: But the sting of the hornet lies in the conclusion. If this +quadril<i>i</i>teral man had done so much for <i>them</i>, (though really, we +think, 6s. 8d. might have settled his claim,) what, says Fire, setting +her arms a-kimbo, would they do for <i>him</i>? Slaughter replies, rather +crustily, that, as far as a good kicking would go—or (says Famine) a +little matter of tearing to pieces by the mob—they would be glad to +take tickets at his benefit. "How, you bitches!" says Fire, "is that +all?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"I alone am faithful; I</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Cling to him everlastingly</i>."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The sentiment is diabolical. And the question argued at the London +dinner-table was—Could the writer have been other than a devil? The +dinner was at the late excellent Mr Sotheby's, known advantageously in +those days as the translator of Wieland's <i>Oberon</i>. Several of the +great guns amongst the literary body were present; in particular, Sir +Walter Scott; and he, we believe, with his usual good-nature, took the +apologetic side of the dispute. In fact, he was in the secret. Nobody +else, barring the author, knew at first whose good name was at stake. +The scene must have been high. The company kicked about the poor +diabolic writer's head as if it had been a tennis-ball. Coleridge, the +yet unknown criminal, absolutely perspired and fumed in pleading for +the defendant; the company demurred; the orator grew urgent; wits +began to <i>smoke</i> the case, as active verbs; the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> advocate to <i>smoke</i>, +as a neuter verb; the "fun grew fast and furious;" until at length +<i>delinquent arose</i>, burning tears in his eyes, and confessed to an +audience, (now bursting with stifled laughter, but whom he supposed to +be bursting with fiery indignation,) "Lo! I am he that wrote it."</p> + +<p>For our own parts, we side with Coleridge. Malice is not always of the +heart. There is a malice of the understanding and the fancy. Neither +do we think the worse of a man for having invented the most horrible +and old-woman-troubling curse that demons ever listened to. We are too +apt to swear horribly ourselves; and often have we frightened the cat, +to say nothing of the kettle, by our shocking [far too shocking!] +oaths.</p> + +<p>There were other celebrated men whom Coleridge detested, or seemed to +detest—Paley, Sir Sidney Smith, Lord Hutchinson, (the last Lord +Donoughmore,) and Cuvier. To Paley it might seem as if his antipathy +had been purely philosophic; but we believe that partly it was +personal; and it tallies with this belief, that, in his earliest +political tracts, Coleridge charged the archdeacon repeatedly with his +own joke, as if it had been a serious saying, viz.—"that he could not +afford to keep a conscience;" such luxuries, like a carriage, for +instance, being obviously beyond the finances of poor men.</p> + +<p>With respect to the philosophic question between the parties, as to +the grounds of moral election, we hope it is no treason to suggest +that both were perhaps in error. Against Paley, it occurs at once that +he himself would not have made consequences the <i>practical</i> test in +valuing the morality of an act, since these can very seldom be traced +at all up to the final stages, and in the earliest stages are +exceedingly different under different circumstances; so that the same +act, tried by its consequences, would bear a fluctuating appreciation. +This could not have been Paley's <i>revised</i> meaning. Consequently, had +he been pressed by opposition, it would have come out, that by <i>test</i> +he meant only <i>speculative</i> test: a very harmless doctrine certainly, +but useless and impertinent to any purpose of his system. The reader +may catch our meaning in the following illustration. It is a matter of +general belief, that happiness, upon the whole, follows in a higher +degree from constant integrity, than from the closest attention to +self-interest. Now happiness is one of those consequences which Paley +meant by final or remotest. But we could never use this idea as an +exponent of integrity, or interchangeable criterion, because happiness +cannot be ascertained or appreciated except upon long tracts of time, +whereas the particular act of integrity depends continually upon the +election of the moment. No man, therefore, could venture to lay down +as a rule, Do what makes you happy; use this as your test of actions, +satisfied that in that case always you will do the thing which is +right. For he cannot discern independently what <i>will</i> make him happy; +and he must decide on the spot. The use of the <i>nexus</i> between +morality and happiness must therefore be inverted; it is not practical +or prospective, but simply retrospective; and in that form it says no +more than the good old rules hallowed in every cottage. But this +furnishes no practical guide for moral election which a man had not, +before he ever thought of this <i>nexus</i>. In the sense in which it is +true, we need not go to the professor's chair for this maxim; in the +sense in which it would serve Paley, it is absolutely false.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, as against Coleridge, it is certain that many acts +could be mentioned which are judged to be good or bad only because +their consequences are known to be so, whilst the great catholic acts +of life are entirely (and, if we may so phrase it, haughtily) +independent of consequences. For instance, fidelity to a trust is a +law of immutable morality subject to no casuistry whatever. You have +been left executor to a friend—you are to pay over his last legacy to +X, though a dissolute scoundrel; and you are to give no shilling of it +to the poor brother of X, though a good man, and a wise man, +struggling with adversity. You are absolutely excluded from all +contemplation of results. It was your deceased friend's right to make +the will; it is yours simply to see it executed. Now, in opposition to +this primary class of actions stands another, such as the habit of +intoxication, which are known to be wrong only by observing the +consequences.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> If drunkenness did not terminate, after some years, in +producing bodily weakness, irritability in the temper, and so forth, +it would <i>not</i> be a vicious act. And accordingly, if a transcendent +motive should arise in favour of drunkenness, as that it would enable +you to face a degree of cold, or contagion, else menacing to life, a +duty would arise, <i>pro hâc vice</i>, of getting drunk. We had an amiable +friend who suffered under the infirmity of cowardice; an awful coward +he was when sober; but, when very drunk, he had courage enough for the +Seven Champions of Christendom. Therefore, in an emergency, where he +knew himself suddenly loaded with the responsibility of defending a +family, we approved highly of his getting drunk. But to violate a +trust could never become right under any change of circumstances. +Coleridge, however, altogether overlooked this distinction; which, on +the other hand, stirring in Paley's mind, but never brought out to +distinct consciousness, nor ever investigated, nor limited, has +undermined his system. Perhaps it is not very important how a man +<i>theorizes</i> upon morality; happily for us all, God has left no man in +such questions practically to the guidance of his understanding; but +still, considering that academic bodies <i>are</i> partly instituted for +the support of speculative truth as well as truth practical, we must +think it a blot upon the splendour of Oxford and Cambridge that both +of them, in a Christian land, make Paley the foundation of their +ethics; the alternative being Aristotle. And, in our mind, though far +inferior as a moralist to the Stoics, Aristotle is often less a pagan +than Paley.</p> + +<p>Coleridge's dislike to Sir Sidney Smith and the Egyptian Lord +Hutchinson fell under the category of Martial's case.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Hoc solum novi—non amo te, Sabidi."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Against Lord Hutchinson, we never heard him plead any thing of moment, +except that he was finically Frenchified in his diction; of which he +gave this instance—that having occasion to notice a brick wall, +(which was literally <i>that</i>, not more and not less,) when +reconnoitring the French defences, he called it a <i>revêtement</i>. And we +ourselves remember his using the French word <i>gloriole</i> rather +ostentatiously; that is, when no particular emphasis attached to the +case. But every man has his foibles; and few, perhaps, are less +conspicuously annoying than this of Lord Hutchinson's. Sir Sidney's +crimes were less distinctly revealed to our mind. As to Cuvier, +Coleridge's hatred of <i>him</i> was more to our taste; for (though quite +unreasonable, we fear) it took the shape of patriotism. He insisted on +it, that our British John Hunter was the genuine article, and that +Cuvier was a humbug. Now, speaking privately to the public, we cannot +go quite so far as <i>that</i>. But, when publicly we address that most +respectable character, <i>en grand costume</i>, we always mean to back +Coleridge. For we are a horrible John Bull ourselves. As Joseph Hume +observes, it makes no difference to us—right or wrong, black or +white—when our countrymen are concerned. And John Hunter, +notwithstanding he had a bee in his bonnet,[<a name="f26.1" id="f26.1" href="#f26">26</a>] was really a great +man; though it will not follow that Cuvier must, therefore, have been +a little one. We do not pretend to be acquainted with the tenth part +of Cuvier's performances; but we suspect that Coleridge's range in +that respect was not much greater than our own.</p> + +<p>Other cases of monomaniac antipathy we might revive from our +recollections of Coleridge, had we a sufficient motive. But in +compensation, and by way of redressing the balance, he had many +strange likings—equally monomaniac—and, unaccountably, he chose to +exhibit his whimsical partialities by dressing up, as it were, in his +own clothes, such a set of scarecrows as eye has not beheld. Heavens! +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>what an ark of unclean beasts would have been Coleridge's private +<i>menagerie</i> of departed philosophers, could they all have been trotted +out in succession! But did the reader feel them to be the awful bores +which, in fact, they were? No; because Coleridge had blown upon these +withered anatomies, through the blowpipe of his own creative genius, a +stream of gas that swelled the tissue of their antediluvian wrinkles, +forced colour upon their cheeks, and splendour upon their sodden eyes. +Such a process of ventriloquism never <i>has</i> existed. He spoke by their +organs. They were the tubes; and he forced through their wooden +machinery his own Beethoven harmonies.</p> + +<p>First came Dr Andrew Bell. We knew him. Was he dull? Is a wooden spoon +dull? Fishy were his eyes; torpedinous was his manner; and his main +idea, out of two which he really had, related to the moon—from which +you infer, perhaps, that he was lunatic. By no means. It was no craze, +under the influence of the moon, which possessed him; it was an idea +of mere hostility to the moon. The Madras people, like many others, +had an idea that she influenced the weather. Subsequently the +Herschels, senior and junior, systematized this idea; and then the +wrath of Andrew, previously in a crescent state, actually dilated to a +plenilunar orb. The Westmoreland people (for at the lakes it was we +knew him) expounded his condition to us by saying that he was +"maffled;" which word means "perplexed in the extreme." His wrath did +not pass into lunacy; it produced simple distraction; an uneasy +fumbling with the idea; like that of an old superannuated dog who +longs to worry, but cannot for want of teeth. In this condition you +will judge that he was rather tedious. And in this condition Coleridge +took him up. Andrew's other idea, because he <i>had</i> two, related to +education. Perhaps six-sevenths of that also came from Madras. No +matter, Coleridge took <i>that</i> up; Southey also; but Southey with his +usual temperate fervour. Coleridge, on the other hand, found celestial +marvels both in the scheme and in the man. Then commenced the +apotheosis of Andrew Bell; and because it happened that his opponent, +Lancaster, between ourselves, really <i>had</i> stolen his ideas from Bell, +what between the sad wickedness of Lancaster and the celestial +transfiguration of Bell, gradually Coleridge heated himself to such an +extent, that people, when referring to that subject, asked each other: +"Have you heard Coleridge lecture on <i>Bel and the Dragon</i>?"</p> + +<p>The next man glorified by Coleridge was John Woolman, the Quaker. Him, +though we once possessed his works, it cannot be truly affirmed that +we ever read. Try to read John, we often did; but read John we did +not. This however, you say, might be our fault, and not John's. Very +likely. And we have a notion that now, with our wiser thoughts, we +<i>should</i> read John, if he were here on this table. It is certain that +he was a good man, and one of the earliest in America, if not in +Christendom, who lifted up his hand to protest against the +slave-trade. But still, we suspect, that had John been all that +Coleridge represented, he would not have repelled us from reading his +travels in the fearful way that he did. But, again, we beg pardon, and +entreat the earth of Virginia to lie light upon the remains of John +Woolman; for he was an Israelite, indeed, in whom there was no guile.</p> + +<p>The third person raised to divine honours by Coleridge was Bowyer, the +master of Christ's Hospital, London—a man whose name rises into the +nostrils of all who knew him with the gracious odour of a +tallow-chandler's melting-house upon melting day, and whose memory is +embalmed in the hearty detestation of all his pupils. Coleridge +describes this man as a profound critic. Our idea of him is different. +We are of opinion that Bowyer was the greatest villain of the +eighteenth century. We may be wrong; but we cannot be <i>far</i> wrong. +Talk of knouting indeed! which we did at the beginning of this paper +in the mere playfulness of our hearts—and which the great master of +the knout, Christopher, who visited men's trespasses like the +Eumenides, never resorted to but in love for some great idea which had +been outraged; why, this man knouted his way through life, from bloody +youth up to truculent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> old age. Grim idol! whose altars reeked with +children's blood, and whose dreadful eyes never smiled except as the +stern goddess of the Thugs smiles, when the sound of human +lamentations inhabits her ears. So much had the monster fed upon this +great idea of "flogging," and transmuted it into the very nutriment of +his heart, that he seems to have conceived the gigantic project of +flogging all mankind; nay worse, for Mr Gillman, on Coleridge's +authority, tells us (p. 24) the following anecdote:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"'<i>Sirrah, I'll flog you</i>,' were words so familiar to him, that +on one occasion some <i>female</i> friend of one of the boys," (who +had come on an errand of intercession,) "still lingering at the +door, after having been abruptly told to go, Bowyer +exclaimed—'Bring that woman here, and I'll flog her.'"</p></div> + +<p> </p> +<p>To this horrid incarnation of whips and scourges, Coleridge, in his +<i>Biographia Literaria</i>, ascribes ideas upon criticism and taste, which +every man will recognise as the intense peculiarities of Coleridge. +Could these notions really have belonged to Bowyer, then how do we +know but he wrote <i>The Ancient Mariner</i>? Yet, on consideration, no. +For even Coleridge admitted that, spite of his fine theorizing upon +composition, Mr Bowyer did not prosper in the practice. Of which he +gave us this illustration; and as it is supposed to be the only +specimen of the Bowyeriana which now survives in this sublunary world, +we are glad to extend its glory. It is the most curious example extant +of the melodious in sound:—</p> + +<p><span style="margin-left: 2em;">"'Twas thou that smooth'd'st the rough-rugg'd bed of pain."</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p>"Smooth'd'st!" Would the teeth of a crocodile not splinter under that +word? It seems to us as if Mr Bowyer's verses ought to be boiled +before they can be read. And when he says, '<i>Twas thou</i>, what is the +wretch talking to? Can he be apostrophising the knout? We very much +fear it. If so then, you see (reader!) that, even when incapacitated +by illness from operating, he still adores the image of his holy +scourge, and invokes it as alone able to smooth "his rough-rugg'd +bed." Oh, thou infernal Bowyer! upon whom even Trollope (<i>History of +Christ's Hospital</i>) charges "a discipline <i>tinctured</i> with more than +due severity;"—can there be any partners found for thee in a +quadrille, except Draco, the bloody lawgiver, Bishop Bonner, and Mrs +Brownrigg?</p> + +<p>The next pet was Sir Alexander Ball. Concerning Bowyer, Coleridge did +not talk much, but chiefly wrote; concerning Bell, he did not write +much, but chiefly talked. Concerning Ball, however, he both wrote and +talked. It was in vain to muse upon any plan for having Ball +blackballed, or for rebelling against Bell. Think of a man, who had +fallen into one pit called Bell, secondly falling into another pit +called Ball. This was too much. We were obliged to quote poetry +against them:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"Letters four do form his name;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He came by stealth and unlock'd my den;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And the nightmare I have felt since then</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Of thrice three hundred thousand men."</span></p> + +<p>Not that we insinuate any disrespect to Sir Alexander Ball. He was +about the foremost, we believe, in all good qualities, amongst +Nelson's admirable captains at the Nile. He commanded a seventy-four +most effectually in that battle; he governed Malta as well as Sancho +governed Barataria; and he was a true practical philosopher—as, +indeed, was Sancho. But still, by all that we could ever learn, Sir +Alexander had no taste for the abstract upon any subject; and would +have read, as mere delirious wanderings, those philosophic opinions +which Coleridge fastened like wings upon his respectable, but +astounded, shoulders.</p> + +<p>We really beg pardon for having laughed a little at these crazes of +Coleridge. But laugh we did, of mere necessity, in those days, at Bell +and Ball, whenever we did not groan. And, as the same precise +alternative offered itself now, viz., that, in recalling the case, we +must reverberate either the groaning or the laughter, we presumed the +reader would vote for the last. Coleridge, we are well convinced, owed +all these wandering and exaggerated estimates of men—these diseased +impulses, that, like the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> <i>mirage</i>, showed lakes and fountains where +in reality there were only arid deserts, to the derangements worked by +opium. But now, for the sake of change, let us pass to another topic. +Suppose we say a word or two on Coleridge's accomplishments as a +scholar. We are not going to enter on so large a field as that of his +scholarship in connexion with his philosophic labours, scholarship in +the result; not this, but scholarship in the means and machinery, +range of <i>verbal</i> scholarship, is what we propose for a moment's +review.</p> + +<p>For instance, what sort of a German scholar was Coleridge? We dare say +that, because in his version of the <i>Wallenstein</i> there are some +inaccuracies, those who may have noticed them will hold him cheap in +this particular pretension. But, to a certain degree, they will be +wrong. Coleridge was not <i>very</i> accurate in any thing but in the use +of logic. All his philological attainments were imperfect. He did not +talk German; or so obscurely—and, if he attempted to speak fast, so +erroneously—that in his second sentence, when conversing with a +German lady of rank, he contrived to assure her that in his humble +opinion she was a ——. Hard it is to fill up the hiatus decorously; +but, in fact, the word very coarsely expressed that she was no better +than she should be. Which reminds us of a parallel misadventure to a +German, whose colloquial English had been equally neglected. Having +obtained an interview with an English lady, he opened his business +(whatever it might be) thus—"High-born madam, since your husband have +kicked de bucket"—— "Sir!" interrupted the lady, astonished and +displeased. "Oh, pardon!—nine, ten tousand pardon! Now, I make new +beginning—quite oder beginning. Madam, since your husband have cut +his stick"—— It may be supposed that this did not mend matters; and, +reading that in the lady's countenance, the German drew out an octavo +dictionary, and said, perspiring with shame at having a second time +missed fire,—"Madam, since your husband have gone to kingdom +come"—— This he said beseechingly; but the lady was past +propitiation by this time, and rapidly moved towards the door. Things +had now reached a crisis; and, if something were not done quickly, the +game was up. Now, therefore, taking a last hurried look at his +dictionary, the German flew after the lady, crying out in a voice of +despair—"Madam, since your husband, your most respected husband, have +hopped de twig"—— This was his sheet-anchor; and, as this also <i>came +home</i>, of course the poor man was totally wrecked. It turned out that +the dictionary he had used (Arnold's, we think,)—a work of a hundred +years back, and, from mere ignorance, giving slang translations from +Tom Brown, L'Estrange, and other jocular writers—had put down the +verb <i>sterben</i> (<i>to die</i>) with the following worshipful series of +equivalents—1. To kick the bucket; 2. To cut one's stick; 3. To go to +kingdom come; 4. To hop the twig.</p> + +<p>But, though Coleridge did not pretend to any fluent command of +conversational German, he read it with great ease. His knowledge of +German literature was, indeed, too much limited by his rare +opportunities for commanding any thing like a well-mounted library. +And particularly it surprised us that Coleridge knew little or nothing +of John Paul (Richter.) But his acquaintance with the German +philosophic masters was extensive. And his valuation of many +individual German words or phrases was delicate and sometimes +profound.</p> + +<p>As a Grecian, Coleridge must be estimated with a reference to the +state and standard of Greek literature at that time and in this +country. Porson had not yet raised our ideal. The earliest laurels of +Coleridge were gathered, however, in that field. Yet no man will, at +this day, pretend that the Greek of his prize ode is sufferable. +Neither did Coleridge ever become an accurate Grecian in later times, +when better models of scholarship, and better aids to scholarship, had +begun to multiply. But still we must assert this point of superiority +for Coleridge, that, whilst he never was what may be called a +well-mounted scholar in any department of verbal scholarship, he yet +displayed sometimes a brilliancy of conjectural sagacity, and a +felicity of philosophic investigation, even in this path, such as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +better scholars do not often attain, and of a kind which cannot be +learned from books. But, as respects his accuracy, again we must +recall to the reader the state of Greek literature in England during +Coleridge's youth; and, in all equity, as a means of placing Coleridge +in the balances, specifically we must recall the state of Greek +metrical composition at that period.</p> + +<p>To measure the condition of Greek literature even in Cambridge, about +the initial period of Coleridge, we need only look back to the several +translations of Gray's <i>Elegy</i> by three (if not four) of the reverend +gentlemen at that time attached to Eton College. Mathias, no very +great scholar himself in this particular field, made himself merry, in +his <i>Pursuits of Literature</i>, with these Eton translations. In that he +was right. But he was <i>not</i> right in praising a contemporary +translation by Cook, who (we believe) was the immediate predecessor of +Porson in the Greek chair. As a specimen of this translation,[<a name="f27.1" id="f27.1" href="#f27">27</a>] we +cite one stanza; and we cannot be supposed to select unfairly, because +it is the stanza which Mathias praises in extravagant terms. "Here," +says he, "Gray, Cook, and nature, do seem to contend for the mastery." +The English quatrain must be familiar to every body:—</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Await alike the inevitable hour;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">The paths of glory lead but to the grave."</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p>And the following, we believe, though quoting from a thirty-three +years' recollection of it, is the exact Greek version of Cook:—</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<ins class="correction" title="Ha charis eugeneôn, charis ha basilêidos archas,">Ἁ χαρις εὐγενεων, χαρις ἁ βασιληιδος ἀρχας,</ins><br /> +<ins class="correction" title="Dôra tuchês chruseês, Aphroditês kala ta dôra,">Δωρα τυχης χρυσεης, Ἀφροδιτης καλα τα δωρα,</ins><br /> +<ins class="correction" title="Panth' hama tauta tethnêke, kai eiden morsimon hamar;">Πανθ’ ἁμα ταυτα τεθνηκε, και εἰδεν μορσιμον ἁμαρ·</ins><br /> +<ins class="correction" title="Hêrôôn kle' olôle, kai ôcheto xunon es Adên.">Ἡρωων κλε’ ὀλωλε, και ὠχετο ξυνον ἐς Ἀδην.</ins></div> + +<p> </p> +<p>Now really these verses, by force of a little mosaic tesselation from +genuine Greek sources, pass fluently over the tongue; but can they be +considered other than a <i>cento</i>? Swarms of English schoolboys, at this +day, would not feel very proud to adopt them. In fact, we remember (at +a period say twelve years later than this) some iambic verses, which +were really composed by a boy, viz. son of Dr Prettyman, (afterwards +Tomline,) bishop of Winchester, and, in earlier times, private tutor +to Mr Pitt; they were published by Middleton, first bishop of +Calcutta, in the preface to his work on the Greek article; and for +racy idiomatic Greek, self-originated, and not a mere mocking-bird's +iteration of alien notes, are so much superior to all the attempts of +these sexagenarian doctors, as distinctly to mark the growth of a new +era and a new generation in this difficult accomplishment, within the +first decennium of this century. It is singular that only one blemish +is suggested by any of the contemporary critics in Dr Cook's verses, +viz. in the word <ins class="correction" title="xunon"> ξυνον</ins>, for which this critic proposes to +substitute <ins class="correction" title="ôoinon">ὡοινον</ins>, to prevent, as he observes, the last +syllable of <ins class="correction" title="ôcheto">ὠχετο</ins> from being lengthened by the <ins class="correction" title="x">ξ</ins>. +Such considerations as these are necessary to the <i>trutinæ +castigatio</i>, before we can value Coleridge's place on the scale of his +own day; which day, <i>quoad hoc</i>, be it remembered, was 1790.</p> + +<p>As to French, Coleridge read it with too little freedom to find +pleasure in French literature. Accordingly, we never recollect his +referring for any purpose, either of argument or illustration, to a +French classic. Latin, from his regular scholastic training, naturally +he read with a scholar's fluency; and indeed, he read constantly in +authors, such as Petrarch, Erasmus, Calvin, &c., whom he could not +then have found in translations. But Coleridge had not cultivated an +acquaint<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>ance with the delicacies of classic Latinity. And it is +remarkable that Wordsworth, educated most negligently at Hawkshead +school, subsequently by reading the lyric poetry of Horace, simply for +his own delight as a student of composition, made himself a master of +Latinity in its most difficult form; whilst Coleridge, trained +regularly in a great Southern school, never carried his Latin to any +classical polish.</p> + +<p>There is another accomplishment of Coleridge's, less broadly open to +the judgment of this generation, and not at all of the next—viz. his +splendid art of conversation, on which it will be interesting to say a +word. Ten years ago, when the music of this rare performance had not +yet ceased to vibrate in men's ears, what a sensation was gathering +amongst the educated classes on this particular subject! What a tumult +of anxiety prevailed to "hear Mr Coleridge"—or even to talk with a +man who <i>had</i> heard him! Had he lived till this day, not Paganini +would have been so much sought after. That sensation is now decaying; +because a new generation has emerged during the ten years since his +death. But many still remain whose sympathy (whether of curiosity in +those who did <i>not</i> know him, or of admiration in those who <i>did</i>) +still reflects as in a mirror the great stir upon this subject which +then was moving in the world. To these, if they should enquire for the +great distinguishing principle of Coleridge's conversation, we might +say that it was the power of vast combination "in linked sweetness +long drawn out." He gathered into focal concentration the largest body +of objects, <i>apparently</i> disconnected, that any man ever yet, by any +magic, could assemble, or, <i>having</i> assembled, could manage. His great +fault was, that, by not opening sufficient spaces for reply or +suggestion, or collateral notice, he not only narrowed his own field, +but he grievously injured the final impression. For when men's minds +are purely passive, when they are not allowed to re-act, then it is +that they collapse most, and that their sense of what is said must +ever be feeblest. Doubtless there must have been great conversational +masters elsewhere, and at many periods; but in this lay Coleridge's +characteristic advantage, that he was a great natural power, and also +a great artist. He was a power in the art, and he carried a new art +into the power.</p> + +<p>But now, finally—having left ourselves little room for more—one or +two words on Coleridge as an opium-eater.</p> + +<p>We have not often read a sentence falling from a wise man with +astonishment so profound, as that particular one in a letter of +Coleridge's to Mr Gillman, which speaks of the effort to wean +one's-self from opium as a trivial task. There are, we believe, +several such passages. But we refer to that one in particular which +assumes that a single "week" will suffice for the whole process of so +mighty a revolution. Is indeed leviathan <i>so</i> tamed? In that case the +quarantine of the opium-eater might be finished within Coleridge's +time, and with Coleridge's romantic ease. But mark the contradictions +of this extraordinary man. Not long ago we were domesticated with a +venerable rustic, strongheaded, but incurably obstinate in his +prejudices, who treated the whole body of medical men as ignorant +pretenders, knowing absolutely nothing of the system which they +professed to superintend. This, you will remark, is no very singular +case. No; nor, as we believe, is the antagonist case of ascribing to +such men magical powers. Nor, what is worse still, the co-existence of +both cases in the same mind, as in fact happened here. For this same +obstinate friend of ours, who treated all medical pretensions as the +mere jest of the universe, every third day was exacting from his own +medical attendants some exquisite <i>tour-de-force</i>, as that they should +know or should do something, which, if they <i>had</i> known or done, all +men would have suspected them reasonably of magic. He rated the whole +medical body as infants; and yet what he exacted from them every third +day as a matter of course, virtually presumed them to be the only +giants within the whole range of science. Parallel and equal is the +contradiction of Coleridge. He speaks of opium excess, his own excess, +we mean—the excess of twenty-five years—as a thing to be laid aside +easily and for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> ever within seven days; and yet, on the other hand, he +describes it pathetically, sometimes with a frantic pathos, as the +scourge, the curse, the one almighty blight which had desolated his +life.</p> + +<p>This shocking contradiction we need not press. All readers will see +<i>that</i>. But some will ask—was Mr Coleridge right in either view? +Being so atrociously wrong in the first notion, (viz. that the opium +of twenty-five years was a thing easily to be forsworn,) where a child +could know that he was wrong, was he even altogether right, secondly, +in believing that his own life, root and branch, had been withered by +opium? For it will not follow, because, with a relation to happiness +and tranquillity, a man may have found opium his curse, that +therefore, as a creature of energies and great purposes, he must have +been the wreck which he seems to suppose. Opium gives and takes away. +It defeats the <i>steady</i> habit of exertion, but it creates spasms of +irregular exertion; it ruins the natural power of life, but it +developes preternatural paroxysms of intermitting power.</p> + +<p>Let us ask of any man who holds that not Coleridge himself but the +world, as interested in Coleridge's usefulness, has suffered by his +addiction to opium; whether he is aware of the way in which opium +affected Coleridge; and secondly, whether he is aware of the actual +contributions to literature—how large they were—which Coleridge made +<i>in spite</i> of opium. All who were intimate with Coleridge must +remember the fits of genial animation which were created continually +in his manner and in his buoyancy of thought by a recent or by an +<i>extra</i> dose of the omnipotent drug. A lady, who knew nothing +experimentally of opium, once told us, that she "could tell when Mr +Coleridge had taken too much opium by his shining countenance." She +was right; we know that mark of opium excesses well, and the cause of +it; or at least we believe the cause to lie in the quickening of the +insensible perspiration which accumulates and glistens on the face. Be +that as it may, a criterion it was that could not deceive us as to the +condition of Coleridge. And uniformly in that condition he made his +most effective intellectual displays. It is true that he might not be +happy under this fiery animation, and we fully believe that he was +not. Nobody is happy under laudanum except for a very short term of +years. But in what way did that operate upon his exertions as a +writer? We are of opinion that it killed Coleridge as a poet. "The +harp of Quantock" was silenced for ever by the torment of opium. But +proportionably it roused and stung by misery his metaphysical +instincts into more spasmodic life. Poetry can flourish only in the +atmosphere of happiness. But subtle and perplexed investigations of +difficult problems are amongst the commonest resources for beguiling +the sense of misery. And for this we have the direct authority of +Coleridge himself speculating on his own case. In the beautiful though +unequal ode entitled <i>Dejection</i>, stanza six, occurs the following +passage:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"For not to think of what I needs must feel,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">But to be still and patient all I can;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>And haply by abstruse research to steal</i></span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;"><i>From my own nature all the natural man</i>—</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 3em;">This was my sole resource, my only plan;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Till that, which suits a part, infects the whole,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And now is almost grown the habit of my soul."</span></p> + +<p> </p> +<p>Considering the exquisite quality of some poems which Coleridge has +composed, nobody can grieve (or <i>has</i> grieved) more than ourselves, at +seeing so beautiful a fountain choked up with weeds. But had Coleridge +been a happier man, it is our fixed belief that we should have had far +less of his philosophy, and perhaps, but not certainly, might have had +more of his general literature. In the estimate of the public, +doubtless, <i>that</i> will seem a bad exchange. Every man to his taste. +Meantime, what we wish to show is, that the loss was not absolute, but +merely relative.</p> + +<p>It is urged, however, that, even on his philosophic speculations, +opium operated unfavourably in one respect, by often causing him to +leave them unfinished. This is true. Whenever Coleridge (being highly +charged, or<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> saturated, with opium) had written with distempered +vigour upon any question, there occurred soon after a recoil of +intense disgust, not from his own paper only, but even from the +subject. All opium-eaters are tainted with the infirmity of leaving +works unfinished, and suffering reactions of disgust. But Coleridge + +taxed himself with that infirmity in verse before he could at all have +commenced opium-eating. Besides, it is too much assumed by Coleridge +and by his biographer, that to leave off opium was of course to regain +juvenile health. But all opium-eaters make the mistake of supposing +every pain or irritation which they suffer to be the product of opium. +Whereas a wise man will say, suppose you <i>do</i> leave off opium, that +will not deliver you from the load of years (say sixty-three) which +you carry on your back. Charles Lamb, another man of true genius, and +another head belonging to the Blackwood Gallery, made that mistake in +his <i>Confessions of a Drunkard</i>. "I looked back," says he, "to the +time when always, on waking in the morning, I had a song rising to my +lips." At present, it seems, being a <ins class="correction" title="Original reads 'drunkark'">drunkard</ins>, he has no such song. +Ay, dear Lamb, but note this, that the drunkard was fifty-six years +old, the songster was twenty-three. Take twenty-three from fifty-six, +and we have some reason to believe that thirty-three will remain; +which period of thirty-three years is a pretty good reason for not +singing in the morning, even if brandy has been out of the question.</p> + +<p>It is singular, as respects Coleridge, that Mr Gillman never says one +word upon the event of the great Highgate experiment for leaving off +laudanum, though Coleridge came to Mr Gillman's for no other purpose; +and in a week, this vast creation of new earth, sea, and all that in +them is, was to have been accomplished. We <i>rayther</i> think, as Bayley +junior observes, that the explosion must have hung fire. But <i>that</i> is +a trifle. We have another pleasing hypothesis on the subject. Mr +Wordsworth, in his exquisite lines written on a fly-leaf of his own +<i>Castle of Indolence</i>, having described Coleridge as "a noticeable man +with large grey eyes," goes on to say, "He" (viz. Coleridge) "did that +other man entice" to view his imagery. Now we are sadly afraid that +"the noticeable man with large grey eyes" did entice "that other man," +viz. Gillman, to commence opium-eating. This is droll; and it makes us +laugh horribly. Gillman should have reformed <i>him</i>; and lo! <i>he</i> +corrupts Gillman. S. T. Coleridge visited Highgate by way of being +converted from the heresy of opium; and the issue is—that, in two +months' time, various grave men, amongst whom our friend Gillman +marches first in great pomp, are found to have faces shining and +glorious as that of Æsculapius; a fact of which we have already +explained the secret meaning. And scandal says (but then what will not +scandal say?) that a hogshead of opium goes up daily through Highgate +tunnel. Surely one corroboration of our hypothesis may be found in the +fact, that Vol. I. of Gillman's Coleridge is forever to stand +unpropped by Vol. II. For we have already observed—that opium-eaters, +though good fellows upon the whole, never finish any thing.</p> + +<p>What then? A man has a right never to finish any thing. Certainly he +has; and by Magna Charta. But he has no right, by Magna Charta or by +Parva Charta, to slander decent men, like ourselves and our friend the +author of the <i>Opium Confessions</i>. Here it is that our complaint +arises against Mr Gillman. If he has taken to opium-eating, can we +help <i>that</i>? If <i>his</i> face shines, must our faces be blackened? He has +very improperly published some intemperate passages from Coleridge's +letters, which ought to have been considered confidential, unless +Coleridge had left them for publication, charging upon the author of +the <i>Opium Confessions</i> a reckless disregard of the temptations which, +in that work, he was scattering abroad amongst men. Now this author is +connected with ourselves, and we cannot neglect his defence, unless in +the case that he undertakes it himself.</p> + +<p>We complain, also, that Coleridge raises (and is backed by Mr Gillman +in raising) a distinction perfectly perplexing to us, between himself +and the author of the <i>Opium Confessions</i> upon the question—Why they +severally began the practice of opium-eating? In himself, it seems, +this motive was to relieve pain, whereas the Confessor was +surreptitiously seeking for pleasure. Ay, indeed—where did<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> he learn +<i>that</i>? We have no copy of the <i>Confessions</i> here, so we cannot quote +chapter and verse; but we distinctly remember, that toothach is +recorded in that book as the particular occasion which first +introduced the author to the knowledge of opium. Whether afterwards, +having been thus initiated by the demon of pain, the opium confessor +did not apply powers thus discovered to purposes of mere pleasure, is +a question for himself; and the same question applies with the same +cogency to Coleridge. Coleridge began in rheumatic pains. What then? +That is no proof that he did not end in voluptuousness. For our parts, +we are slow to believe that ever any man did, or could, learn the +somewhat awful truth, that in a certain ruby-coloured elixir, there +lurked a divine power to chase away the genius of ennui, without +subsequently abusing this power. To taste but once from the tree of +knowledge, is fatal to the subsequent power of abstinence. True it is, +that generations have used laudanum as an anodyne, (for instance, +hospital patients,) who have not afterwards courted its powers as a +voluptuous stimulant; but that, be sure, has arisen from no abstinence +in <i>them</i>. There are, in fact, two classes of temperaments as to this +terrific drug—those which are, and those which are not, preconformed +to its power; those which genially expand to its temptations, and +those which frostily exclude them. Not in the energies of the will, +but in the qualities of the nervous organization, lies the dread +arbitration of—Fall or stand: doomed thou art to yield; or, +strengthened constitutionally, to resist. Most of those who have but a +low sense of the spells lying couchant in opium, have practically none +at all. For the initial fascination is for <i>them</i> effectually defeated +by the sickness which nature has associated with the first stages of +opium-eating. But to that other class, whose nervous sensibilities +vibrate to their profoundest depths under the first touch of the +angelic poison, even as a lover's ear thrills on hearing unexpectedly +the voice of her whom he loves, opium is the Amreeta cup of beatitude. +You know the <i>Paradise Lost</i>? and you remember, from the eleventh +book, in its earlier part, that laudanum already existed in Eden—nay, +that it was used medicinally by an archangel; for, after Michael had +"purged with euphrasy and rue" the eyes of Adam, lest he should be +unequal to the mere <i>sight</i> of the great visions about to unfold their +draperies before him, next he fortifies his fleshly spirits against +the <i>affliction</i> of these visions, of which visions the first was +death. And how?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"He from the well of life three drops instill'd."</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>What was their operation?</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"So deep the power of these ingredients pierced,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Even to the inmost seat of mental sight</i>,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">That Adam, now enforced to close his eyes</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sank down, and all his spirits became entranced.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">But him the gentle angel by the hand</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Soon raised"——</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>The second of these lines it is which betrays the presence of +laudanum. It is in the faculty of mental vision, it is in the +increased power of dealing with the shadowy and the dark, that the +characteristic virtue of opium lies. Now, in the original higher +sensibility is found some palliation for the <i>practice</i> of +opium-eating; in the greater temptation is a greater excuse. And in +this faculty of self-revelation is found some palliation for +<i>reporting</i> the case to the world, which both Coleridge and his +biographer have overlooked.</p> + +<p>On all this, however, we need say no more; for we have just received a +note from the writer of the <i>Opium Confessions</i>, more learned than +ourselves in such mysteries, which promises us a sequel or <i>finale</i> to +those Confessions. And this, which we have reason to think a record of +profound experiences, we shall probably publish next month.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<h4><i>Edinburgh: Printed by Ballantyne and Hughes, Paul's Work.</i></h4> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p><a name="Footnotes" id="Footnotes"></a>Footnotes:</p> + + +<p>[<a name="f1" id="f1" href="#f1.1">1</a>] Reynolds' Discourses, No. 16, <i>ad finem</i>.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f2" id="f2" href="#f2.1">2</a>] Macaulay.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f3" id="f3" href="#f3.1">3</a>] The finest design ever conceived by Michael Angelo was a cartoon +representing warriors bathing, and some buckling on their armour at +the sound of the trumpet, which summoned them to their standards in +the war between Pisa and Florence. It perished, however, in the +troubles of the latter city, but an engraved copy remains of part, +which justifies the eulogiums bestowed upon it.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f4" id="f4" href="#f4.1">4</a>] The state of Missouri as almost entirely peopled by emigration +from Kentucky.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f5" id="f5" href="#f5.1">5</a>] The Mississippi water, although slimy, becomes clear after it has +stood few hours, and is then excellent to drink.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f6" id="f6" href="#f6.1">6</a>] An excellent map of Montenegro has been made by an Austrian +officer of engineers, who resided there for the purpose—but I have +not now the advantage of referring to it. This country is divided into +twelve military departments; the natives reckon its extent about three +days' journey in the longest, by two in the widest part. Those, of +course, are foot or mule journeys.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f7" id="f7" href="#f7.1">7</a>] It was this man's father who, shortly before our arrival, having +been entrusted to receive from Lloyd's Company a packet containing a +large sum of money, converted the contents into two cannon-balls, and +forwarded them to the Vladika.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f8" id="f8" href="#f8.1">8</a>] The late Vladika received the honours of sanctity after his death.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f9" id="f9" href="#f9.1">9</a>] Meaning dressed in the European or Frank costume.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f10" id="f10" href="#f10.1">10</a>] The Vladika bears the Russian eagle rising from a crown.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f11" id="f11" href="#f11.1">11</a>] He passed but one night in Montenegro, at Cettigna, and returned +the following day to Cattaro.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f12" id="f12" href="#f12.1">12</a>] On the kalends of January the consuls-elect were formally +installed; and on this occasion a procession was made to the Capitol, +and sacrifice performed to Jupiter. The principal part of the +procession, of course, was the consuls in their curule chair, preceded +by the lictors bearing the <i>fasces</i>, or bundles of rods and axes.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f13" id="f13" href="#f13.1">13</a>] From <i>Janua</i>, a gate.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f14" id="f14" href="#f14.1">14</a>] The etymology of these old epithets, from <i>pateo</i> (to open) and +<i>claudo</i> (to shut,) is obvious enough.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f15" id="f15" href="#f15.1">15</a>] The <i>lar familiaris</i>, or domestic god of the family, who had an +altar in the inner part of the Roman house.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f16" id="f16" href="#f16.1">16</a>] The allusion here, and in the following lines, is to the +different <i>strenæ</i> or New-Year's gifts, which used to be given by the +Romans.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f17" id="f17" href="#f17.1">17</a>] The old Roman <i>as</i>, with the double head on one side and a ship +on the reverse, is well known among numismatists.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f18" id="f18" href="#f18.1">18</a>] The Tuscan flood is a common appellation for the Tiber, as rising +in Etruria, and forming the ancient boundary between that country and +Latium, opposite Rome.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f19" id="f19" href="#f19.1">19</a>] A silly etymology—from <i>lateo</i>, to lurk; mentioned also by +Virgil.—<i>Æn</i>. viii. 323.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f20" id="f20" href="#f20.1">20</a>] "The Romans gave the name of <i>Jani</i> to arches like that of +Temple-Bar in London, under which people passed from one street into +another. They were always double; people entering by one and going out +by the other, every one keeping to the right. The temple or gateway +mentioned in this place, adjacent to the ox and the fish markets, was +built by Duilius."—<span class="smcap">Keightly</span>.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f21" id="f21" href="#f21.1">21</a>] Although the allusion refers, in the verses, to Delphi, it was, I +think, at Dodona, in the earliest period of oracular influence, that +this belief prevailed.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f22" id="f22" href="#f22.1">22</a>] "And Mullah mine, whose waves whilome I taught to +weep."—<span class="smcap">Spenser</span>.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f23" id="f23" href="#f23.1">23</a>] <i>The Life of Samuel Taylor Coleridge</i>. By <span class="smcap">James Gillman</span>. Vol. I, +London; 1838.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f24" id="f24" href="#f24.1">24</a>] "Jacob Boehmen." We ourselves had the honour of presenting to Mr +Coleridge Law's English version of Jacob—a set of huge quartos. Some +months afterwards we saw this work lying open, and one volume at least +overflowing, in parts, with the commentaries and the <i>corollaries</i> of +Coleridge. Whither has this work, and so many others swathed about +with Coleridge's MS. notes, vanished from the world?</p> + +<p>[<a name="f25" id="f25" href="#f25.1">25</a>] Malthus would have rejoined by saying—that the flower-pot +limitation was the actual limitation of nature in our present +circumstances. In America it is otherwise, he would say; but England +<i>is</i> the very flower-pot you suppose: she is a flower-pot which cannot +be multiplied, and cannot even be enlarged. Very well; so be it: +(Which we say in order to waive irrelevant disputes.) But then the +true inference will be—not that vegetable increase proceeds under a +different law from that which governs animal increase, but that, +through an accident of position, the experiment cannot be tried in +England. Surely the levers of Archimedes, with submission to Sir +Edward B. Lytton, were not the less levers because he wanted the +<i>locum standi</i>. It is proper, by the way, that we should inform the +reader of this generation where to look for Coleridge's skirmishings +with Malthus. They are to be found chiefly in the late Mr William +Hazlitt's work on that subject: a work which Coleridge so far claimed +as to assert that it had been substantially made up from his own +conversation.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f26" id="f26" href="#f26.1">26</a>] <i>Vide</i>, in particular, for the most exquisite specimen of +pig-headedness that the world can furnish, his perverse evidence on +the once famous case at the Warwick assizes, of Captain Donelan for +poisoning his brother-in-law, Sir Theodosius Boughton.</p> + +<p>[<a name="f27" id="f27" href="#f27.1">27</a>] It was printed at the end of Aristotle's <i>Poetics</i>, which Dr Cook +edited.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p>Transcriber's Note:</p> +<p>Additional spacing after some of the quotes is intentional to indicate both the end of a quotation and the beginning of a new paragraph as presented in the original text.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine -- +Volume 57, No. 351, January 1845, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, JAN. 1845 *** + +***** This file should be named 29605-h.htm or 29605-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/6/0/29605/ + +Produced by Brendan OConnor, Jonathan Ingram, Stephanie +Eason and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net. 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