XIII.
For Erin surpasses the daughters of Neptune, As Dian excels each encircling star; And the spheres of the heavens could never have kept tune Till set to the music of Erin-go-bragh!
――――:o:――――
The great Christopher North (Professor Wilson) had but a poor opinion of Thomas Moore, and in _Noctes Ambrosianæ_ (Blackwood’s Magazine July 1823) he thus expressed himself;――
“Moore will not live long as a song writer, he has not the stamina in him at all. His verses are elegant, pretty, glittering, anything you please in that line; but they have defects which will not allow them to get down to posterity. His strong party views, his affectation of learning, his parade of his knowledge of botany, zoology, and the other ’ologies, these are serious defects, and then the mixed metaphors, and often down-right nonsense to be found in his songs, all detract from his chances of immortality.”
“Here” says Wilson “is a song he intended to be sung by:――
A FALLEN ANGEL OVER A BOWL OF RUM-PUNCH.
Heap on more coal there, And keep the glass moving, The frost nips my nose, Though my heart glows with loving. Here’s the dear creature, No skylights――a bumper; He who leaves heel taps I vote him a mumper.
With hey cow rumble O, Whack! populorum, Merrily, merry men, Push round the jorum.
What are Heaven’s pleasures That so very sweet are? Singing from psalters, In long or short metre. Planked on a wet cloud Without any breeches, Just like the Celtic, Met to make speeches.
With hey cow rumble &c.
Wide is the difference, My own boozing bullies, Here the round punch-bowl, Heap’d to the full is. Then if some wise one Thinks that up “yonder” Is pleasant as we are, Why――he’s in a blunder.
With hey cow rumble, &c.
――――:o:――――
LOVE AND THE FLIMSIES.
Little Cupid one day on a sunbeam was floating, Above a green vale where a paper mill played; And he hovered in ether, delightedly noting The whirl and the splash that the water-wheel made.
The air was all filled with the scent of the roses, Round the Miller’s veranda that clustered and twined; And he thought if the sky were all made up of noses, This spot of the earth would be most to his mind.
And forth came the Miller, a Quaker in verity, Rigid of limb and complacent of face, And behind him a Scotchman was singing “Prosperity,” And picking his pocket with infinite grace.
And “Walth and prosparity,” “Walth and prosparity,” His bonny scotch burthen arose on the air, Is a song all in praise of that primitive charity, Which begins with sweet home, and which terminates there.
But sudden a tumult arose from a distance, And in rushed a rabble with steel and with stone. And ere the scared miller could call for assistance, The mill to a million of atoms was blown.
Scarce mounted the fragments in ether to hurtle, When the Quaker was vanished, no eye had seen where; And the Scotchman thrown flat on his back, like a turtle, Was sprawling and bawling, with heels in the air.
Little Cupid continued to hover and flutter, Pursuing the fragments that floated on high, As light as the fly that is christened from butter, Till he gathered his hands full and flew to the sky.
“Oh, mother,” he cried, as he showed them to Venus, What are these little talismans cyphered――One――One? If you think them worth having, we’ll share them between us, Though their smell is like, none of the newest, poor John!”
“My darling,” says Venus, “away from you throw them, They’re a sort of fool’s gold among mortals ’tis true; But we want them not here, though I think you might know them, Since on earth they so often have bought and sold you.”
THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK. (From Paper Money Lyrics, written during the commercial panic, in the winter 1825-26.)
――――:o:――――
Another imitation of Moore’s style is given in _The Book of Ballads_, edited by _Bon Gaultier_, and published by William Blackwood & Sons. These Ballads were written by Professor W. E. Aytoun, and Theodore Martin. A few of them may be considered amusing as parodies, but the greater number are really clever imitations of style, with a little burlesque introduced here and there. Thus, the following would pass very well for one of Moore’s lighter songs:
THE BARD OF ERIN’S LAMENT.
Oh! weep for the hours when the little blind boy Wove around me the spells of his Paphian bower; When I dipped my light wings in the nectar of joy, And soared in the sunshine, the moth of the hour! From beauty to beauty I passed, like the wind; Now fondled the lily, now toyed with the rose; And the fair, that at morn had enchanted my mind, Was forsook for another ere evening’s close.
* * * * *
But weep for the hour! Life’s summer is past, And the snow of its winter lies cold on my brow; And my soul as it shrinks from each stroke of the blast, Can not turn to a fire that glows inwardly now. No, its ashes are dead――and, alas! Love or Song No charm to Life’s lengthening shadows can lend, Like a cup of old wine, rich, mellow, and strong, And a seat by the fire _tête-à-tête_ with a friend.
――――:o:――――
OLD SHERRY. (_A Parody on the Anacreontic Song._)
To old Sheridan once as he sat in full glee, A few duns for hard money sent a petition; And prayed that his cash or bank notes they might see, But this answer received from the sturdy old Grecian:―― “My friends, I declare I have no cash to spare, And for all your distresses one damn I dont care, But then I’ll instruct you like me how to dine, And make creditors pay for the banquet and wine.”
By this answer appalled, at the statesman they stared, And then fell to bowing, beseeching, and coaxing, But their time and their talking they well might have spared, For old Sherry’s grand forte was cajoling and hoaxing. “My good friends,” says he, “The thing cannot be, For my purse can’t produce to you one mar’vedie; But if to discount some more bills you incline, You all shall partake of my banquet and wine.”
The duns with amazement on each other gazed, Then threatened attornies, arrests, executions, But old Sheridan smiled, and was mightily pleased At their impotent threats, and their vain resolutions. “Goods and chattels,” says he, “You can’t get from me, And from all your arrests, I’m by privilege free; Disappointed and vex’d, let my creditors whine, I’ll still make them pay for my banquets and wine.
“Dame Justice, that hobbling old Beldam I’ve found, With brisk Generosity ne’er can keep pacing; All my debts I would pay if the cash could be found, But my wants my finances are always outracing. Then submit with good grace, For while I’m out of place All payment of debt is quite out of the case; But if once I get in, ’tis my serious design, That the nation shall pay for my banquet and wine.”
The duns one and all from his presence withdrew, In sullen despair of e’er touching the rhino. And they’d never come there if old Sherry they knew But one half so truly as you or I know. In passing this quiz, So flushed was his phiz, That the nose of old Bardolph were ice matched to his; He returned to his friends, who’d just helped him to dine, And laughed at the dupes who found banquet and wine.
From _The Spirit of the Age Newspaper for_ 1828.
The Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan here referred to, the celebrated wit, orator, and dramatist, was continually in debt, and as, in addition to being thriftless and extravagant, he was intemperate, his once handsome features became, in the later years of his life, so bloated, distorted, and discoloured, that he seemed but a hideous caricature of his former self.
――――:o:――――
THE SHY BO-PEEP. (_A sea-side fact._)
The shy Bo-Peep to the sea is gone, In a bathing frock you’ll find her; A swimming belt she has girded on, And a life buoy slung behind her. “Bathe, I wont!” said this maiden shy, “Tho’ disappointment rankles, “In such a garb some man might spy My pettitoes and ankles!”
Her friends protest, but the task is vain To make Bo-peep knock under, The frock was never worn again, For she tore its seams asunder; And said, “No more embarrass me “Thou cumbersome monstrosity! “I’ll bathe ‘au naturel’ and free In despite of curiosity!”
A.H.S.
――――:o:――――
ANACREON’S ODE XXI.
Observe when mother earth is dry, She drinks the droppings of the sky; And then the dewy cordial gives To every thirsty plant that lives. The vapours, which at evening weep, Are beverage to the swelling deep; And when the rosy sun appears, He drinks the ocean’s misty tears. The moon too quaffs her paly stream Of lustre from the solar beam. Then, hence with all your sober thinking Since Nature’s holy law is drinking; I’ll make the laws of Nature mine, And pledge the universe in wine.
T. MOORE.
Moore has been often accused of plagiarism, and more often perhaps in connection with the above translation from Anacreon than any other poem. A few examples of the versions of earlier writers will show how far the charge can be substantiated.
_Pierre de Ronsard_ (who died in 1585) wrote a version; which, given in the old orthography, runs thus:――
“La terre, les eaux va boivant. L’arbre la boit par sa racine. La mer salée boit le vent, Et le soleil boit la marine. Le soleil est beu de la lune, Tout boit soit en haut ou en bas. Suivant ceste règle commune Pourquoy donc ne boirons nous pas?”
_Capilupus_ imitated the ode, in an epitaph on a drunkard, which has thus been rendered:――
While life was mine, the little hour In drinking still unvaried flew; I drank as earth imbibes the shower, Or as the rainbow drinks the dew; As ocean quaffs the rivers up, Or flushing sun inhales the sea: Silenus trembled at my cup, And Bacchus was outdone by me!
In scene 3, act iv., of _Timon of Athens_, Shakespeare has a similar passage;――
“I’ll example you with thievery. The sun’s a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea; the moon’s an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun; The sea’s a thief, whose liquid surge resolves The moon into salt tears.”
Another version:――
The heavens carouse each day a cup, No wonder Atlas holds them up! The trees suck up the earth and ground, And in their brown bowls drink around; The sea, too, whom the salt makes dry, His greedy thirst to satisfy, Ten thousand rivers drink, and then Gets drunk, and brings them up again.
The sun, and who as right as he? Sits up all night to drink the sea; The moon quaffs up the sun, her brother, And wishes she could tope another; If all things fuddle; why should I, Of all things, be the one that’s dry? Well, I’ll be content to thirst, But too much drink shall make me first.
LORD ROCHESTER (Died 1680).
――――:o:――――
THE THIRSTY EARTH. (Freely translated from Anacreon.)
ABRAHAM COWLEY (Died 1667.)
The thirsty earth drinks up the rain And thirsts, and gapes for drink again; The plants suck in the earth, and are With constant drinking fresh and fair.
The sea itself (which one would think Should have but little need of drink) Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up, So fill’d that they o’erflow the cup.
The busy sun (and one would guess By’s drunken fiery face no less) Drinks up the sea, and when he’s done, The moon and stars drink up the sun,
They drink and dance by their own light, They drink and revel all the night: Nothing in nature’s sober found, But an eternal health goes round.
Fill up the bowl then, fill it high, Fill all the glasses here; for why Should every creature drink but I? Why, man of morals, tell me why?
Whilst referring to Thomas Moore’s plagiarisms mention must be made of an article on the subject contained in Fraser’s Magazine, June 1841. It is too long to quote in full, but some of its principal statements may be given:
“Moore’s plagiarisms are intolerable. There is not a single original thought, conception, metaphor, or image, in the whole range of his works,――from the _Posthumous Poems of Tom Little_ to his last dying speech――The _Travels of an Irish Gentleman in Search of a Religion_. Even the title of this nonsense is stolen from Erasmus’s _Peregrinatio Religionis ergo_. The man is an indefatigable thief. He has laid under contribution every imaginable book, from the biography of his namesake, Tom Thumb, to the portly folios of the fathers of the church. Perfectly unscrupulous in his marauding expeditions, and impartial in his attacks, he is found at one moment rifling a saint, and in the next pillaging a sinner. You have asked me for some specimens of his plagiarisms. You shall have them. Time will permit me to expose only a very few, so I shall plunge at once _in medias res_:――
LITTLE’S POEMS.
“_Your mother says, my little Venus, There’s something not correct between us, And you’re in fault as well as I; Now on my soul, my little Venus, I think ’twould not be right between us, To let your mother tell a lie._”
This is plagiarised from an old collection of English epigrams published in 1785:――
“The lying world says naughty words Of you and I, my dearest love; You know, my dear, the world’s the Lord’s Let ’em no longer liars prove.”
LITTLE’S POEMS. _To Julia_
“_Why let the stingless critic chide With all that fume of vacant pride Which mantles o’er the pedant fool, Like vapour on a stagnant pool._” Lloyd
“Must thou whose judgment dull and cool Is muddy as the stagnant pool.”
LITTLE’S POEMS.
“_Here is one leaf reserved for me From all thy sweet memorials free, And here my simple song might tell The feelings thou must guess so well. But could I thus within thy mind One little vacant corner find, Where no impression yet is seen, Where no memorial yet has been, Oh, it should be my sweetest care To write my name for ever there._”
These are stolen from some lines of Pope’s:――
“With what strange raptures would my soul be blest, Were but her book an emblem of her breast, As I from that all former marks efface, And, uncontroll’d, put new ones in their place, So might I chase all others from her heart, And my own image in the stead impart; But ah! how short the bliss would prove if he Who seized it next might do the same by me.”
LITTLE’S POEMS.
“_Oh, shall we not say thou art Love’s duodecimo; Few can be prettier, none can be less, you know, Such a volume in sheets were a volume of charms, Or if bound, it should only be bound in our arms._”
Wit restored. _In several select poems._ 1658.
“A woman is a book, and often found To prove far better in the sheets than bound; No marvail, then, why men take such delight Above all things to study in the night,”
LITTLE’S POEMS.
“_If Mahomet would but receive me, And Paradise be as he paints, I’m greatly afraid (God forgive me) I’d worship the eyes of his saints._”
Dryden. _Epilogue to “Constantine the Great._”
“Th’ original Trimmer, though a friend to no man, Yet in his heart adored a pretty woman, He knew that Mahomet laid up for ever Kind black-eyed rogues for every true believer, And, which was more than mortal man e’er tasted, One pleasure that for threescore twelvemonths lasted, To burn for this may surely be forgiven, Who’d not be circumcised for such a heaven?”
LITTLE’S POEMS.
“_Weep on, and as thy sorrows flow I’ll taste the luxury of woe._”
Langhorne. _Precepts of Conjugal Happiness_
“For once this pain, this frantic pain forego, And feel at least _the luxury of woe_.”
MOORE. _Anacreon._
“_When the sunshine of the bowl Thaws the ice about the soul._”
Cawthorne.
“However, when the sprightly bowl Had _thaw’d the ice about the soul_,”
MOORE’S MELODIES.
“_And when he said, Heaven rest her soul Round the lake-like music stole, And her ghost was seen to glide Smiling o’er the fatal tide._” Kirke White. _Gondoline._
“The maid was seen no more; but oft Her ghost is known to glide At midnight’s silent, solemn hour Along the ocean’s tide.”
MOORE’S MELODIES.
“_Sweet Vale of Avoca, how calm could I rest In the bosom of shade with the friends I love best; Where the storms that we feel in this cold world should cease, And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace._”
This simile of friendly hearts blending together like waters is as old as
Sir John Suckling. _Aglaura_, act iv.
“Alas! we two Have mingled souls more than two meeting brooks.”
Dryden. _All for Love_, act iii., sc. 3.
“We were so closed within each other’s breasts, The rivets were not found that join’d us first,
That does not reach us yet,――we were so mixt As meeting streams, both to ourselves were lost.”
Wilson. _City of the Plague_, act iii. sc. 3.
“We shall die Like two glad waves, that, meeting on the shore In moonlight and in music melt away Quietly mid the quiet wilderness.”
MOORE’S MELODIES.
“_My only book Were woman’s looks, And folly’s all they’ve taught me._”
John Heywood. _Of a most noble Ladye._
“The vertue of her looks Excels the precious stone, Ye need none other books To read or look upon.”
MOORE’S MELODIES.
“_No, Freedom, whose smile we shall never resign, Go tell our invaders, the Danes, That ’tis sweeter to bleed for an age at thy shrine Than to sleep but a moment in chains._”
Addison. _Cato_, act ii. sc. 1.
“A day, an hour, of virtuous liberty Is worth a whole eternity of bondage.”
MOORE’S MELODIES.
“_Long, long be my heart with such memories fill’d, Like the vase in which roses have once been distill’d; You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will. But the scent of the roses will hang round it still._”
Sir John Suckling. _Brennoralt_, act v.
“Thou motion’st well, nor have I taken leave. It keeps a sweetness yet, [_Kisses her_]. As stills from roses when the flowers are gone.”
Philip Massinger. _Roman Actor_, act iv. sc. 2.
“But that thou, whom oft I’ve seen To personate a gentleman, noble, wise, Faithful and gainsome, and what virtues else The poet pleases to adorn you with; But that (_as vessels still partake the odour Of the sweet precious liquors they contain’d_) Thou must be really in some degree The thing thou dost present.”
MOORE’S MELODIES.
“_As a beam o’er the face of the waters may glow While the tide runs in darkness and coldness below, So the cheek may be tinged with a warm sunny smile, Though the cold heart to ruin runs darkly the while._”
James Mervyn. _On Shirley’s Plays._
“They might, like waters in the sunshine set, Retain his image, not impart his heat.”
MOORE’S MELODIES.
“_The moon looks On many brooks, The brook can see no moon but this._”
Sir William Jones.
“The moon looks upon many night-flowers, the night-flowers see but one moon.”
MOORE’S MELODIES.
“_Though dark are our sorrows to-day, we’ll forget them, And smile through our tears like a sunbeam in showers._”
Sir E. Brydges. _Restituta_, vol. ii. p. 337.
“Golden storms Fell from their eyes, as when the sun appears; And yet it rains, so shew’d their eyes their tears.”
MOORE’S MELODIES.
“_I flew to her chamber, ’twas lonely, As if the loved tenant lay dead; Ah, would it were death and death only! But no, the young false one had fled. And there hung the lute that could soften My very worst pains into bliss; While the hand that had waked it so often, Now throbb’d to a proud rival’s kiss._”
Thomas Heywood. _A Woman Killed with Kindness. Grief of Frankford after discovering his wife’s infidelity._
“_Nic._ Master, here’s her lute flung in a corner!
_Frank._ Her lute! Oh, God! upon this instrument Her fingers have ran quick division, Swifter than that which now divides our hearts. * * * Oh, Master Cranwell! Oft hath she made this melancholy wood (Now mute and dumb, for her disastrous change) Speak sweetly many a note, sound many a strain, To her own ravishing voice, which being well strung, What pleasant, strange airs, have they jointly rung!”
These are specimens of Moore’s rogueries; and now having heard them, will you not agree with me in the propriety of addressing him with the same compliment which Homer pays to Mercury.――
“Immortal honour awaits thee, oh, Thomas Little! for thou shalt be known to all posterity as the chief of thieves.”
[Illustration]
LORD BYRON.
On page 197 was inserted “_The Enigma on the letter H_,” with several parodies on it. This poem has been generally ascribed to Lord Byron, but from correspondence recently published in “Notes and Queries” there seems little doubt but that it was written by Miss Catherine Fanshawe. The following imitation of it appeared in _The Gownsman_ (Cambridge) November 1830.
A RIDDLE.
I was fashion’d by nat_u_re, and formed in the s_u_n, And I’ve followed him since in the race he has run; Not a co_u_ntry he warms but I’ve wandered it through, From Kerg_u_elens land to the verge of Per_u_; Not a soul has been born, not a creature on earth, But I have been there in the ho_u_r of birth; I was present each min_u_te in life as it pass’d, And I mix’d with the d_u_st it return’d to at last. In the c_u_p of the lily I love to repose, And I guard, like a spirit, the b_u_d of the rose. In the feverish thoughts, and the do_u_bt of a dream, In the m_u_rmur that wakes from the bed of the stream; In the str_u_ggle we hear when the tempest is high, In the th_u_nder that breaks ere we dream it is nigh; In the fort_u_ne of war, in the pl_u_me of the brave, In the s_u_rge, as it chafes on the crest of the wave, I have ever been present, and ever must be, Though the _U_niverse had its beginning with me; Though my fate is entwined with fut_u_rity too, Yet I cannot last long, for I finish in yo_u_.
U. ――――:o:――――
TOBACCO.
Sublime Tobacco! which from East to West Cheers the tar’s labour or the Turkman’s rest; Which on the Moslem’s ottoman divides His hours, and rivals opium and his brides; Magnificent in Stamboul, but less grand, Though not less loved, in Wapping or the Strand; Divine in hookas, glorious in a pipe, When tipp’d with amber, mellow, rich, and ripe; Like other charmers, wooing the caress, More dazzlingly when daring in full dress, Yet thy true lovers more admire by far Thy naked beauties――Give me a cigar! THE ISLAND.
――――
THE POTATO.
“Sublime potatoes! that, from Antrim’s shore To famous Kerry, form the poor man’s store; Agreeing well with every place and state―― The peasant’s noggin, or the rich man’s plate. Much prized when smoking from the teeming pot, Or in turf-embers roasted crisp and hot. Welcome, although you be our only dish; Welcome, companion to flesh, fowl, or fish; But to the real gourmands, the learned few, Most welcome, steaming in an Irish stew.”
T. CROFTON CROKER.
――――:o:――――
“MAZEPPA TRAVESTIED: a Poem,” is the title of a small anonymous pamphlet published by C. Chapple, Pall Mall, London, in 1820. Price, Half-a-crown. It has an introductory address to “_The Goddess of Milling, and her worshippers, The Fancy_.”
The preface contains the following sensible passage “With regard to Travesty, or Parody in general, it may be observed that the use of it by no means necessarily implies a design of holding up the original to ridicule and contempt.” The parody itself, however, is so full of slang, and deals with such unsavoury topics, that no extracts from it can be given. Suffice it to say that it describes the adventures and amours of prize-fighters and their friends, in language worthy of the theme, although it must be admitted, the parody closely imitates the original poem in its construction. Following the _Mazeppa Travestie_ comes a short parody descriptive of the defeat of Belasco, the Jewish prize-fighter.
THE DEFEAT OF CRACK-A-RIB.
Belasco came down like a bruiser so bold, And his _bellows_ was good, and his nobbers all told: And the shout of his backers was like the hurrah Of the _Black Diamond’s_ friends, when he _queer’d Quashee’s_ jaw.
Like sheep in the pens, in that business so green, All sporting their _flimsies_, the kiddies were seen; Like those sheep, when the shearer has thought them full grown, And fleeced them, those kiddies stood chilly and lone.
For the genius of _Milling_ came down on the blast, And _bung’d_ up the eyes of the Jew pretty fast; And the _glims_ of the _green_ ones with gloom ’gan to fill, When they saw how the gilding was gone from their pill.
And there lay the _cove_ with his mouth open wide But through it there came not the sounds that defied; And those who have _made_ him are wild on the turf, That the _swell_ they had raised should prove nothing but surf.
And the pugilist’s _fancy_ is loud in her wail, For fear that her man should be clapt into jail; And the _queer’d ones_ of Israel no _blunt_ can afford, To _flash_ in the ring, since their _swell_ has been _floor’d_.
[Illustration]
CHARLES KINGSLEY.
THE AUCTION.
Three women went sailing out into the street To the brown stone front where the red flag hung They jostled the crowd all day on their feet, While “going and going and gone” was sung. For women must go where bargains are had, And buy old trash, if ever so bad, And husbands must never be groaning.
Three husbands all hungry went homeward to dine, But when they arrived there was nothing to eat, Three women, all crazy, and looking so fine, Were gabbling of bargains along on the street, For women must talk of bargains they buy, And homes must suffer, and babies must cry, And husbands must ever be groaning.
Three women were showing their husbands with glee Their bargains at prices that never were beat: Three husbands all starving and mad as could be, Were tossing the bargains out into the street. For men don’t know when bargains are cheap, And women, poor creatures, do nothing but weep, And husbands must ever be groaning.
――――
THREE LITTLE FISHERS.
Three little fishers trudged over the hill, Over the hill in the sun’s broad glare, With rods and crook’d pins, to the brook by the mill, While three fond mothers sought them everywhere. For boys will go fishing, though mothers deny; Watching their chance they sneak off on the sly To come safely back in the gloaming.
Three mothers waited outside of the gate; Three little fishers, tired, sunburnt and worn, Came into sight as the evening grew late: Their chubby feet bleeding, their clothing all torn, For “boys will be boys”――have a keen eye for fun, While mothers fret, fume, scold, and――succumb, And welcome them home in the gloaming.
Three little fishers were called to explain―― Each stood condemned, with a thumb in his eye, They promised never to do so again, And were hung up in the pantry to dry. Three mothers heaved great sighs of relief, An end had been put to their magnified grief, When the boys came home in the gloaming.
FRANK H. STAUFFER. _Detroit Free Press_, July 10, 1886.
――――
THREE COWS.
Three cows were seized for the tithe rent in the West, For the parson’s tithe in old Ruthin’s town, And the Taffies flocked, with a lively zest, To the farm to see the crummies knocked down For parsons want tithes, and farmers must pay, Though crops may fail, and quarter-day, And bankruptcy they be reaching.
Three bailiffs ran after the cows in the park, After the cows amid laughter and groan, Policeman and people enjoying the lark; And the cattle weren’t caught when the bailies were blown. But parsons want tithes, and farmers must pay, Or their kine will be sold and be harried away, To provide for the Church and the preaching.
Three constables guarded the auctioneer, And three milch beauties fetched twenty pounds; The tithe was paid with expenses clear, And the knight of the hammer was hissed off the ground For parsons want money, and tithes must be paid; But the sooner they’re done with the better ’tis said, Or good-bye to the Church and its teaching.
――――
THREE FISHERS.
Three fishers went fishing out into the sea With bottles well filled with the regular bait: They burned in the sun and told stories with glee And caught one sea-robin, a crab and a skate; But, as they were told, on the previous day, More fishes were caught than were carried away, And then were these fishers a-groaning.
Three fishers all blistered crawled homeward intent With cussing their luck and without any bait, And also without the small fortune they’d spent For one old sea-robin, a crab and a skate, But then――if the wind or the tide had been right, Or different bait, or fishes would bite, These fishers would not be a-groaning.
Three fishers went telling some terrible lies Of how they returned with a ton or so weight; The fish, they kept growing in numbers and size As fast as the fishers could swallow more “bait.” For spinning of yarns is the only delight Of fishers who fish without getting a bite And who, when alone, are a-groaning.
H. C. DODGE. _Detroit Free Press_, August 21, 1886.
――――:o:――――
HORTICULTURAL EMBLEMS.
A Parody of Rogero’s Song in THE ANTI-JACOBIN.
Snobs of Cambridge, you must all Have a piece of garden ground, Well enclosed with a wall, Or with a fence well guarded round. Get of plants that none e’er saw A beautiful variety; Then be a _member_ of the Hor- -Ticultural Society!
Work and toil both night and day, Rearing flowers choice and rare; And then――if you like you may With them to the show repair. But since a SNOB, expect a flaw, In spite of your anxiety; ’Tis never heeded by the Hor- -Ticultural Society.
_Humble plants_ in order stand, And _sensitives_ in order too: Shrinking from the Floral wand Of _Mister Touch-me-not_ and Co. Such _humble plants_ you never saw, Waiting for their moiety Awarded to them by the Hor- -Ticultural Society.
_Cocks-combs_ leave their native seat, _Cocks-combs_ dwarf and _cocks-combs_ tall, Other _cocks-combs_ here to meet, And whisper, “SNOBS, we’ve done you all.” Oh! what are those great baskets for―― Those looks of such anxiety? Why! for the _Sweepstakes_ of the Hor- -Ticultural Society!
Grow a Pine that’s worth a guinea, And they’ll award you just a crown; _Quere?_――who is such a ninney? Some there are――their names are down; But the pine’s his own!――O, no, ’tis for One _Mister Sec-Satiety_: _Wot_ drives the members of the Hor- -Ticultural Society!!
_The Gownsman_ (Cambridge), November 26, 1830.
END OF VOLUME III.
[Illustration]
Footnotes:
[1] Henry Stephens appears first to have started this subject of _parody_; whose researches have been borrowed by the Abbé Sallier, as I am in my turn occasionally indebted to Sallier. His little dissertation is in the French Academy’s Memoirs, tome vii, 398.
[2] See a specimen in Aulus Gellius, where this parodist reproaches Plato for having given a high price for a book, whence he drew his noble dialogue of the Timæus. Lib. iii. c. 17.
[3] See Spanheim, Les Césars de l’Empéreur Julien in his “Preuves,” Remarque 8. Sallier judiciously observes, “Il peut nous donner une juste idee de cette sorte d’ouvrage, mais nous ne savons pas précisément en quel tems il a été composé;” no more, truly, than the Iliad itself!
[4] Les Parodies du Nouveau Théätre Italien, 4 vol. 1738. Observations sur la Comédie et sur le Génie de Molière, par Louis Riccoboni. Liv. iv.
[5] I am indebted to James Gordon, Esq., F.S.A., (Scotland) for the reference to this poem, and for many other useful memoranda.
[6] Nursery abbreviation of lollipops.
[7] James Usher, Primate of Ireland.
[8] William Bedell, Bishop of Kilmore.
[9] Jeremy Taylor, Bishop of Dromore.
[10] George Berkeley, Bishop of Cloyne.
[11] This stanza is often omitted.
[12] These were the distinguishing marks of a Pilgrim.
[13] The year of noviciate.
[14] Editors of two newspapers of the Opposition.
[15] The once beautiful and famous Vauxhall Gardens, in the south of London. The last performance in the Gardens took place on 25th July, 1859, and the ground has since been almost entirely built over.
[16] In 1846, Sir Robert Peel carried the Repeal of the Corn Laws, in the face of much conservative and protectionist opposition.
[17] A noted vendor of wax moulds, short sixes, farthing rushlight and all other _wick_-ed wares.
[18] Alderman Moon.
[19] Celebration of the coming of age of the late Earl Brownlow.
[20] Campbell has, in his Gertrude of Wyoming, “All gladness to the heart, nerve, ear and sight.”
[21] At a time of great agricultural distress the Duke of Norfolk had suggested that the poor people should provide themselves with a curry powder of his own device, as a palliative for hunger. He had perhaps forgotten that when Marie Antoinette was told that the poor in Paris were starving for the lack of bread, she replied “Poor things, why don’t they buy some cake.”)
[22] “Ireland for ever.”
[23] For the engagement of Jenny Lind, that young lady having deserted to Mr. Lumley, the rival manager, at Her Majesty’s Theatre.
[24] Sir Andrew Agnew, M.P., an opponent of the admission of Jews to Parliament.
[25] In the letter which accompanied this song, Professor Blackie stated that “Sam Sumph,” was a great favorite with the Edinburgh Students, but that it had not previously been published. Another great favorite with the Students is the eminent Professor himself, whose handsome presence, and genial character are so well known in Auld Reekie. There is an anecdote related of him, that having to transact some private business one day, he left a label on his door:
“_Professor Blackie regrets that he cannot meet his classes to-day._”
A Student coming up effaced the _c_, and left the message――
“_Professor Blackie regrets that he cannot meet his lasses to-day._”
But the Professor, returning sooner than he expected, removed another letter, and the intimation on his door for the rest of the day stood thus:――
“_Professor Blackie regrets that he cannot meet his asses to-day._”
Se non e vero, e ben trovato.
[26] Sir Stafford Northcote.
[27] _Lixmaleerie_ a corruption of _L’Eglise de Marie_.
[28] Alluding to the then great distance between the picture frame, in which the green curtain was set, and the band.
[29] The old name for London.
[30] Old Bedlam, at that time, stood “close by London Wall.” It was built after the model of the Tuileries, which is said to have given the French king great offence. In front of it Moorfields extended, with broad gravel walks crossing each other at right angles. These the writer well recollects; and Rivaz, an underwriter at Lloyd’s, has told him that he remembered when the merchants of London would parade these walks on a summer evening with their wives and daughters. But now as a punning brother bard sings, “Moorfields are fields no more.”
[31] “‘Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stanley, on’ Were the last words of Marmion.”
[32] _Parliament_――A sweet biscuit now seldom met with.
[33] Whitbread’s shears. An economical experiment of that gentleman. The present portico, towards Brydges Street, was afterwards erected under the lesseeship of Elliston, whose portrait in the Exhibition was thus noticed in the EXAMINER: “Portrait of the great lessee, in his favourite character of Mr. Elliston.”
[34] A Scotchman, who was on his dying bed was asked by the clergyman of his parish “And where do you think you are going to now?” replied “Hech, meenister, ye ken this is neether the time nor place to be asking conundrums.” So, too, it may be said, this is neither the time, nor the place to discuss questions of political economy. Yet――in answer to the writer of these bigoted lines――it may be pointed out that the great, the chief reason for Scotchmen leaving their own country, is to be found in the iniquitous land laws, which doom so many of the finest parts of Scotland to be depopulated for the formation of dear runs, and game preserves.
And a Scotchman may point with pardonable pride to the fact, that wherever Scotchmen go they are welcomed as honest, thrifty, and law abiding citizens. Whilst by their industry, their intelligence, and integrity, they win the success which is denied them in their own country, through the survival of an obsolete feudal system, not at all in keeping with the spirit of the age.
[35] The writer will not guarantee the absolute correctness of all these names of localities, but he has carefully consulted the best authorities on the subject.
[36] The late Dr. E. V. Kenealy, M.P., for Stoke-upon-Trent, and counsel for the Claimant in the famous Tichborne case.
[37] So says the _Englishman_. It is true the Gaikwar’s agents in this country deny the assertion point-blank, but that is nothing in the Doctor’s way.
[38] The Rt. Hon. Stephen Cave, M.P. for New Shoreham.
[39] EPIGRAM
(_On placing the Bankrupt Duke of York’s statue on a high column_).
To put the Duke upon so high a column, Appears to me a mockery rather solemn. Such lofty place for him cannot be meet; Surely the project they should straight abandon Of placing him, who’d scarce a _leg to stand on_ Upon a thing of _near one hundred feet_.
_Figaro in London_, Dec., 1834.
EPIGRAM
(_On the Column to the Duke of York’s memory._
In former times th’ illustrious dead were burned, Their hearts preserved in sepulchre inurned. This column, then, commemorates the part Which custom makes us single out――the heart; You ask “How by a column this is done,” I answer, “_’Tis a hollow thing of stone_.”
_Figaro in London_, March, 1833.]
[40] Here is to be observed the astonishing similarity of manners and customs, between the Irish and Scotch, in former days. How close is
“_Whack for O’Shaughnashane! Tooleywhagg, ho!_
to “_Roderigh Vich Alpine Dhu! ho ieroe!_” ――See _The Lady of the Lake_.
In the present instance, ’tis a _Song at a Banquet_; in the latter, ’tis a _Song in a Boat_. ’Tis merely the difference betwixt wine and water. The vassals on both occasions express their attachment to their Chief, and their ardour for his _Crest_; one being an _Evergreen Pine_, the other a _Potato_.
[41] _Jokeby_ was said to have been written by an Amateur of Fashion.
[42] The indefatigable researches of my friend, Mr. Francis Douce, have at last enabled him to procure me one of these celebrated banners. It is quartered according to the most received military practices, and in the midst appears a portrait, which I at first mistook for the effigy of a goose and trimmings; but now find to compose the head and wig of my friend Robert Warren. On either side are blazoned two blacking brushes rampant, armed and langued gules, with a pair of top boots argent. The whole forms a striking heraldic curiosity, and is now deposited in the British Museum.
[43] _Major Yelverton._
[44] The deeds of Admiral Sir Charles Napier, as commander of the Baltic Fleet in the Russian War, bore a very insignificant relation to his boasts before he assumed the command.
[45] Sir Edmund Henderson, formerly Chief of the Metropolitan Police.
[46] Much comment was made upon the fact that the Duchess of Kent and her daughter, the Princess Victoria (heiress to the throne), were not present at the coronation of William IV.
[47] [The Marquis of Salisbury, Sir Stafford Northcote, and Mr. James Lowther.]
[48] Sunderland Times, 7th Jan., 1876, &c.
[49] Report of the Medical Officer of the Privy Council on the Smallpox Epidemic of 1871-2.
[50] [_The Happy Land_ by F. Tomline and Gilbert A’Beckett was a burlesque of The _Wicked World_. It was produced at the Court Theatre on March 3, 1873, and prohibited by the Lord Chamberlain on March 7, principally because three of the actors were made up to represent Mr. Gladstone, Mr. Ayrton, and Mr. Robert Lowe. It was afterwards reproduced with sundry alterations and omissions.]
[51] Old Pensioners of Sutton’s hospital――so called by the boys.
[52] For the Glendoveer, and the rest of the _dramatis personæ_ of this imitation, the reader is referred to the “Curse of Kehama.”
[53] Midnight, and yet no eye Through all the Imperial City closed in sleep! Behold her streets a blaze With light that seems to kindle the red sky, Her myriads swarming through the crowded ways! Master and slave, old age and infancy, All, all abroad to gaze; House-top and balcony Clustered with women, who throw back their veils, With unimpeded and insatiate sight To view the funeral pomp which passes by, As if the mournful rite Were but to them a scene of joyance and delight.
From Southey’s _The Curse of Kehama_.
[54] This couplet was introduced by the authors by way of bravado, in answer to some one who alleged that the English language contained no rhyme to chimney.
[55] Apollo. A gigantic wooden figure of this deity was erected on the roof. The writer (_horrescit referens!_) is old enough to recollect the time when it was first placed there. Old Bishop, then one of the masters of Merchant Taylors’ School, wrote an epigram upon the occasion, which, referring to the aforesaid figure, concluded thus:
“Above he fills up Shakespeare’s place, And Shakespeare fills up his below.”
Very antithetical; but quære as to the meaning? The writer, like Pluto, “long puzzled his brain” to find it out, till he was immersed “in a lower deep” by hearing Madame de Staël say, at the table of the late Lord Dillon, “Buonaparte is not a man, but a system.” Inquiry was made in the course of the evening of Sir James Mackintosh as to what the lady meant? He answered, “Mass, I cannot tell.” Madame de Staël repeats this apophthegm in her work on Germany. It is probably understood _there_.
[56] O.P. This personage, who is alleged to have growled like a bull-dog, requires rather a lengthened note for the edification of the rising generation. The “horns, rattles, drums,” with which he is accompanied, are no inventions of the poet. The new Covent Garden Theatre opened on the 18th September, 1809, when a cry of “Old Prices” (afterwards diminished to O.P.) burst out from every part of the house. This continued and increased in violence till the 23rd, when rattles, drums, whistles, and cat-calls, having completely drowned the voices of the actors, Mr. Kemble, the stage manager, came forward and said that a committee of gentlemen had undertaken to examine the finances of the concern, and that until they were prepared with their report the theatre would continue closed. “Name them!” was shouted from all sides. The names were declared, viz., Sir Charles Price, the Solicitor-General, the Recorder of London, the Governor of the Bank, and Mr. Angerstein. “All shareholders!” bawled a wag from the gallery. In a few days the theatre re-opened: the public paid no attention to the report of the referees, and the tumult was renewed for several weeks, with even increased violence. The proprietors now sent in hired bruisers, to _mill_ the refractory into subjection. This irritated most of their former friends, and, amongst the rest, the annotator, who accordingly wrote the song of “Heigh-ho, says Kemble,” which was caught up by the ballad-singers, and sung under Mr. Kemble’s house windows in Great Russell Street. A dinner was given at the Crown and Anchor Tavern in the Strand, to celebrate the victory obtained by W. Clifford in his action against Brandon, the box-keeper, for assaulting him for wearing the letters O.P. in his hat. At this dinner, Mr. Kemble attended, and matters were compromised by allowing the advanced price (seven shillings) to the boxes. The writer remembers a former riot of a similar sort at the same theatre (in the year 1792), when the price to the boxes was raised from five shillings to six. That tumult, however, only lasted three nights.
[57] “From the knobb’d bludgeon to the taper switch.” This image is not the creation of the poets: it sprang from reality. The authors happened to be at the Royal Circus when “God save the King” was called for, accompanied by a cry of “stand up!” and “hats off!” An inebriated naval lieutenant, perceiving a gentleman in an adjoining box slow to obey the call, struck his hat off with his stick, exclaiming, “Take off your hat, sir!” The other thus assaulted proved to be, unluckily for the lieutenant, Lord Camelford, the celebrated bruiser and duellist. A set-to in the lobby was the consequence, where his lordship quickly proved victorious. “The devil is not so black as he is painted,” said one of the authors to the other; “let us call upon Lord Camelford, and tell him that we were witnesses of his being first assaulted.” The visit was paid on the ensuing morning at Lord Camelford’s lodgings, in Bond Street. Over the fire-place in the drawing-room were ornaments strongly expressive of the pugnacity of the peer. A long thick bludgeon lay horizontally supported by two brass hooks. Above this was placed parallel one of lesser dimensions, until a pyramid of weapons gradually arose, tapering to a horsewhip.
“Thus all below was strength, and all above was grace.”
Lord Camelford received his visitants with great civility, and thanked them warmly for the call; adding, that their evidence would be material, it being his intention to indict the lieutenant for an assault. “All I can say in return is this,” exclaimed the peer with great cordiality, “if ever I see you engaged in a row, upon my soul I’ll stand by you.” The authors expressed themselves thankful for so potent an ally, and departed. In about a fortnight afterwards (March 7, 1804), Lord Camelford was shot in a duel with Mr. Best.
[58] Veeshno. The late Mr. Samuel Whitbread, M.P., who committed suicide in 1815 during a fit of insanity supposed to have been occasioned by overwork, and anxiety in connection with the involved financial affairs of Drury Lane Theatre.
[59] Levy. An insolvent Israelite who threw himself from the top of the Monument a short time before. An inhabitant of Monument-yard informed the writer, that he happened to be standing at his door talking to a neighbour; and looking up at the top of the pillar, exclaimed, “Why, here’s the flag coming down.” “Flag!” answered the other, “it’s a man.” The words were hardly uttered when the suicide fell within ten feet of the speakers.
[60] Rembling――shifting;
[61] Raving――tearing up;
[62] Tewing――troubling oneself;
[63] Taving――fidgeting;
[64] Clatting――dirtying;
[65] Scratting――scratching.
[66] Ruddle――red chalk for tiled floor.
[67] An affectionate term applied to Mr. Montagu Corry, (now Lord Rowton,) Secretary to Lord Beaconsfield.
[68] The “Friend of Humanity” was intended for a satire on Mr. Tierney, M.P., for Southwark, who in early times was amongst the most zealous of the Reformers. He was an active member of the _Society of Friends of the People_, and drew up the justly celebrated Petition in which that useful body laid before the House of Commons all the more striking
## particulars of its defective title to be a body truly
representing the people, which that house then, as now, but with far less reason, assumed.
[69] Evidently Giles now reads his newspaper.
[70] This stanza was supplied by S. T. Coleridge.
[71] George Canning, of the _Anti-Jacobin_.
[72] Mrs. Fitzherbert and Mary Robinson, the one the wife, the other the mistress of George, Prince Regent.
[73] State Lotteries were then permitted, but were abolished in 1826.
[74] Alluding to a coarse skit published by Sir John Stoddart, in _The New Times_.
[75] The Bishop of Osnaburgh’s _Doxy_. The Duke of York was Bishop of Osnaburgh, but the _Doxy_ here mentioned alludes neither to Orthodoxy nor to Heterodoxy, but simply to Mrs. Mary Anne Clarke, the wife of a stonemason. She became the mistress of this reverend Bishop, who was also Commander of the Forces, and to whose memory a column was erected――Heaven only knows why――at the junction of Waterloo-place and St. James’s-park. The Duke got into debt, and Mrs. Clarke had to find money by the sale of commissions in the Army――it is said, indeed, that she had also applications for bishoprics and deaneries. The Duke of York had control of the Army, and as the regulation price of a majority was £2,600 and of a captaincy £1,500 while Mrs. Clarke only charged £900 and £700 respectively, she drove, for awhile, a thriving trade; but at last Colonel Wardle brought the scandal before the House of Commons, and the Duke was obliged to resign his post.
[76] Two Boots, an allusion to George IV., and the next few lines refer to his ill-used wife, Caroline of Brunswick, who died in August, 1821, shortly after his coronation.
[77] A favourite phrase of the worthy Poet Laureate.
[78] “Dilworth and Dyche are both mad at thy quantities.” See Mr. Canning’s Parody on Mr. Southey’s Dactylics.
[79] Not only in “Seditious Sapphics,” but in divers kinds of verse “without a name,” happily unknown to English Poetry, before Mr. Southey.
[80] “Botany Bay Eclogues,” written in the Laureate’s youth, full of thefts and theories worthy of the _Bay_, though the poetry certainly is not.
[81] “Joan of Arc,” Mr. S. says, was written in six weeks, It may be so――it is easier to _write_ than to _read_ such an epic.
[82] “Thalaba, the destroyer,” a hotch-potch of all the measures in the English (and a few more) without rhyme. The catastrophe is precisely that of Tom Thumb.
[83] “Madoc,” a moral quarto, in which whatever is good for anything is stolen without acknowledgment from Robertson’s History of America, whose elegant prose Mr. Southey has _traduced_ into barbarous blank, in applying all the striking incidents in the story of Columbus, to a buccaneering Welsh Chieftain of the 12th century.
[84] “Roderick the last of the Goths.”
[85] “Wat Tyler” was republished about the time Mr. S. suffered the Laurel――which gave rise to some edifying and curious contrasts of his new and old opinions.
[86] Mr. S. is guilty of sundry odes to the Holy Alliance, &c., &c.
[87] “Letter to W. Smith, M.P., from R. Southey, Esq.” of the contents of which most of our readers are in a state of happy ignorance――for the publisher, Mr. Murray, is the only person who suffered from Mr. S.’s “branding iron.” It was said of Joe Manton’s guns, that they were not _sold_ but _given away_. As much might Mr. Murray say of this famous Letter, except that nothing of the Laureate’s resembles the said Joe’s in readiness _to go off_.
[88] “A Poet’s Pilgrimage to Waterloo,” in which Mr. S. clearly explains Dryden’s bull――“twice he slew the slain.”
[89] A right melancholy “Lay of the Laureate,” inflicted on the occasion of the nuptials of the late Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold.
[90] The author here alludes to that class of noble or opulent students, who at Oxford are called _Gentlemen Commoners_, and at Cambridge _Fellow Commoners_.
[91] A few of the names, indicated only by initials, are now difficult to identify, but most of them refer to well-known individuals.
[92] John Borthwick Gilchrist, L.L.D., an eminent oriental scholar, died in 1841.
[93] Samuel Rogers, Poet and Banker, died in 1855.
[94] Francis, Lord Jeffrey, a Scotch Judge, chiefly remembered on account of his long connection with, and numerous contributions to _The Edinburgh Review_, (the “Blue and Buff”) of which he was one of the founders. In an article in that Review (July, 1806) he denounced Tom Moore as “the most licentious of modern versifiers, and the most poetical of the propagators of impiety.” On this charge, which was too true to be answered in any other way, Moore challenged Jeffrey to fight a duel, and the two met at Chalk Farm, then a favourite spot with duellists. The proceedings were stopped by the interference of the police, when it was found that in loading the pistols, the bullets had been carefully omitted. This circumstance became the talk of the town, and Moore, especially, was subjected to much ridicule. Byron thus alludes to the duel:――
“Health to great Jeffrey; Heaven preserve his life, To flourish on the fertile shores of Fife, And guard it sacred in its future wars, Since authors sometimes seek the field of Mars. Can none remember that eventful day, That ever glorious, almost fatal fray, When Little’s leadless pistol met his eye, And Bow Street myrmidons stood laughing by?” _English Bards and Scotch Reviewers._
When Moore read these lines he was so incensed that he addressed a challenge to Lord Byron, but by cautiously confiding it to a discreet friend it somehow never reached its destination. Moore afterwards became very intimate with Byron, but he still had his revenge, for he wrote Byron’s Life.
[95] George Birkbeck, M.D., president of the London Mechanics’ Institute, and founder of the Birkbeck Institution in Southampton Buildings, was a physician by profession, and an ardent advocate for the education of the people. He died in 1841.
[96] Lord Mayor Waithman, four times elected M.P. for London, a strenuous advocate for popular rights. He died in 1833, and an obelisk was erected to his memory, in Ludgate Circus.
[97] Jeremy Bentham, political economist, and father of the Utilitarian School of writers, died in 1832.
[98] Henry Brougham, Lord Chancellor, who took great interest in the spread of popular education, and was very
## active in the formation of the London University.
[99] Pronounced, “Zo-ee mou sas ag-a-po,” a Romaic expression of tenderness. It means, “My life, I love you!” which sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as much in fashion in Greece at this day, as, Juvenal tells us, the first two words were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic expressions were all Hellenized.
[100] The notorious Madame Rachel obtained large sums of money from a certain foolish woman, on the pretences that she could be made “_beautiful for ever_” and obtain the hand of the late Viscount Ranelagh in marriage. Neither Madam Rachel’s cosmetics, nor her matrimonial schemes succeeded, and Madame Rachel was sentenced to a long term of imprisonment for obtaining money under false pretences, whilst her victim became the laughing stock of London. Madame Rachel died before her term of imprisonment expired.
[101] R. B. Sheridan.
[102] This would seem to show that poet and prophet are synonymous, the noble bard having afterwards returned to England, and again quitted it, under domestic circumstances painfully notorious. His good-humoured forgiveness of the Authors has already been alluded to in the preface. Nothing of this illustrious poet, however trivial, can be otherwise than interesting. “We knew him well.” At Mr. Murray’s dinner-table the annotator met him and Sir John Malcolm, Lord Byron talked of intending to travel in Persia. “What must I do when I set off?” said he to Sir John. “Cut off your buttons!” “My buttons! what, these metal ones?” “Yes; the Persians are in the main very honest fellows; but if you go thus bedizened, you will infallibly be murdered for your buttons! “At a dinner at Monk Lewis’s chambers in the Albany, Lord Byron expressed to the writer his determination not to go there again, adding, “I never will dine with a middle-aged man who fills up his table with young ensigns, and has looking-glass panels to his book-cases.” Lord Byron, when one of the Drury-lane Committee of Management, challenged the writer to sing alternately (like the swains in Virgil) the praises of Mrs. Mardyn, the actress, who, by-the-bye, was hissed off the stage for an imputed intimacy of which she was quite innocent.
The contest ran as follows:
“Wake muse of fire, your ardent lyre, Pour forth your amorous ditty, But first profound, in duty bound, Applaud the new committee; Their scenic art from Thespis’ cart All jaded nags discarding, To London drove this queen of love, Enchanting Mrs. Mardyn.
Though tides of love around her rove, I fear she’ll choose Pactolus―― In that bright surge bards ne’er immerge, So I must e’en swim solus. ‘Out, out, alas!’ ill-fated gas, That shin’st round Govent Garden, Thy ray how flat, compared with that From eye of Mrs. Mardyn!”
And so on. The reader has, no doubt, already discovered “which is the justice, and which is the thief.”
Lord Byron at that time wore a very narrow cravat of white sarsnet, with the shirt-collar falling over it; a black coat and waistcoat, and very broad white trousers, to hide his lame foot. These were of Russia duck in the morning, and jean in the evening. His watch-chain had a number of small gold seals appended to it, and was looped up to a button of his waistcoat. His face was void of colour; he wore no whiskers. His eyes were gray, fringed with long black lashes; and his air was imposing, but rather supercilious. He undervalued David Hume: denying his claim to genius on account of his bulk, and calling him, from the Heroic epistle,
“The fattest hog in Epicurus’ sty.”
One of this extraordinary man’s allegations was, that “fat is an oily dropsy.” To stave off its visitation, he frequently chewed tobacco in lieu of dinner, alleging that it absorbed the gastric juice of the stomach, and prevented hunger. “Pass your hand down my side,” said his lordship to the writer; “can you count my ribs?” “Every one of them.” “I am delighted to hear you say so. I called last week on Lady ――――; ‘Ah, Lord Byron,’ said she, ‘how fat you grow!’ But you know Lady ―――― is fond of saying spiteful things!” Let this gossip be summed up with the words of Lord Chesterfield, in his character of Bolingbroke: “Upon the whole, on a survey of this extraordinary character, what can we say, but ‘Alas, poor human nature!’”
His favourite Pope’s description of man is applicable to Byron individually:――
“Chaos of thought and passion all confused, Still by himself abused or disabused: Created part to rise and part to fall, Great lord of all things, yet a slave to all: Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurled―― The glory, jest, and riddle of the world.”
The writer never heard him allude to his deformed foot except upon one occasion, when, entering the green-room of Drury-lane, be found Lord Byron alone, the younger Byrne and Miss Smith the dancer having just left him, after an angry conference about a _pas seul_. “Had you been here a minute sooner,” said Lord B., “you would have heard a question about dancing referred to me:――me! (looking mournfully downward) whom fate from my birth has prohibited from taking a single step.”
[103] “Holland’s edifice.” The late theatre was built by Holland the architect. The writer visited it on the night of its opening. The performances were _Macbeth_ and the _Virgin Unmasked_. Between the play and the farce, an excellent epilogue, written by George Colman, was excellently spoken by Miss Farren. It referred to the iron curtain which was, in the event of fire, to be let down between the stage and the audience, and which accordingly descended, by way of experiment, leaving Miss Farren between the lamps and the curtain. The fair speaker informed the audience, that should the fire break out on the stage (where it usually originates), it would thus be kept from the spectators; adding, with great solemnity――
“No! we assure our generous benefactors ’Twill only burn the scenery and the actors!”
A tank of water was afterwards exhibited, in the course of the epilogue, in which a wherry was rowed by a real live man, the band playing――
“And did you not hear of a jolly young waterman?”
Miss Farren reciting――
“Sit still, there’s nothing in it, We’ll undertake to drown you in a single minute.”
“O vain thought!” as Othello says. Notwithstanding the boast in the epilogue――
“Blow, wind――come, rack, in ages yet unborn, Our castle’s strength shall laugh a siege to scorn”――
The theatre fell a victim to the flames within fifteen years from the prognostic! These preparations against fire always presuppose presence of mind and promptness in those who are to put them into action. They remind one of the dialogue in Morton’s _Speed the Plough_, between Sir Able Handy and his son Bob:
“_Bob._ Zounds, the castle’s on fire! _Sir A._ Yes. _Bob._ Where’s your patent liquid for extinguishing fire? _Sir A._ It is not fixed. _Bob._ Then where’s your patent fire-escape? _Sir A._ It is not fixed. _Bob._ You are never at a loss? _Sir A._ Never. _Bob._ Then what do you mean to do? _Sir A._ I don’t know.”
[104] A rather obscure mode of expression for _Jew’s_-harp; which some etymologists allege, by the way, to be a corruption of _Jaw’s_-harp. No connection, therefore, with King David.
[105] “A four-in-hand” in early Editions.
[106] On the repeal of the Corn-laws Sir Robert Peel resigned, and was succeeded by Lord John Russell.
[107] On the night previous to the action, a grand ball was given at Brussels.
[108] In October 1856, the Chinese captured 12 of the crew of the Lorcha _Arrow_ in Canton river, on the plea that they were pirates. Commissioner Yeh, the Chinese commander, released the prisoners but refused to apologise for the outrage, thereupon Canton was bombarded and other acts of war committed. In March 1857 the House of Commons, by a majority of 19, censured Sir John Bowring, Governor of Hong Kong, for the “violent measures” he had pursued. The Ministry (who took his part) dissolved Parliament, and in the new one a large majority was returned to support Lord Palmerston, and the Chinese War. Messrs. Cobden, Bright, Milner Gibson, Layard and many other leading opponents of the Chinese policy were left without seats.
[109] Mr. Bright was absent on the continent for the benefit of his health during the whole of the session, and telegraphed from Rome his intention to stand again for Manchester, but he was defeated.
[110] This line was borrowed from Sidney Smith.
[111] The last eight lines parody the first eight lines of Zelica’s song in Moore’s _Lalla Rookh_.
[112] The _Emma_ Mines.
[113] Sir Louis Cavagnari murdered in Cabul.
[114] The Nelson Column.
[115] The system of the purchase of Commissions in the Army was not abolished until 1871.
[116] In connection with these burlesques, it may be noted that this prolific dramatic author and inveterate punster was remotely connected with Lord Byron, to whom, indeed, he bore a slight personal resemblance. Admiral John Byron, the grandfather of the poet, was the great-great uncle of the author of “Our Boys,” in other words, both the poet and the dramatist were lineal descendants of William the fourth Lord Byron.
[117] The Princess Beatrice.
[118] Lord Rowton.
[119] Tara is about six and a half miles south of Navan by road crossing the Boyne by Kilcarn bridge. “Here, it is supposed,” writes Seward, “there was anciently a magnificent royal palace, the residence of the Kings of Ireland, where triennial parliaments were held, in which all the nobility, gentry, priests, etc. assembled, and here laws were enacted and repealed, and the general advantage of the nation consulted. This place is otherwise called Teagh-mor-Ragh, the great house of the King, and much celebrated in ancient Irish history.”
[120] Binns was hangman at this time.
[121] Thomas Moore was a great “Diner-out,” and we have it on Byron’s authority “that he dearly loved a Lord.”
[122] Seager――a distiller noted for his fine flavoured _Old Tom_, considered the best in the metropolis: whether tossed off _short_, or mixed into _grog_.
[123] The plant known as asphodel to the later Greeks used to be laid tombs as food for the dead.
[124] Daniel O’Connell. M.P.
[125] A possible place of exile for the Ameer, as it was used for the King of Delhi’s prison.
[126] “_The Living Lustres_ appear to us a very fair imitation of the fantastic verses which that ingenious person, Mr. Moore, indites when he is merely gallant, and, resisting the lures of voluptuousness, is not enough in earnest to be tender.”――JEFFREY, _Edinburgh Review_.
[127] This alludes to two massive pillars of verd antique which then flanked the proscenium, but which were afterwards removed. Their colour reminds the bard of the Emerald Isle, and this causes him (_more suo_) to fly off at a tangent, and Hibernicise the rest of the poem.
Transcriber’s Note:
This book was written in a period when many words had not become standardized in their spelling. Words may have multiple spelling variations or inconsistent hyphenation in the text. These have been left unchanged unless indicated below. Misspelled words were not corrected.
Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like this_. Footnotes were renumbered sequentially and were moved to the end of the book. Obvious printing errors, such as backwards, upside down, or partially printed letters and punctuation, were corrected. Unprinted punctuation and final stops missing at the end of sentences and abbreviations were added. Commas were changed to stops at ends of sentences and abbreviations. Duplicate words and letters at line endings or page breaks were removed. Quotation marks were adjusted to match as pairs.
Where there was a difference in punctuation, accents, hyphenation, etc. between the index entry and the poem text, the index entry was adjusted to match that of the poem.
Illustrated dropped capital letters are indicated within brackets, thus: [Illustration: B]efore ...
There are two anchors to Footnote [14]. A word is not printed in Footnote [123]: … used to be laid [in/on] tombs as food …
In the Contents of Parts, Page 187 was changed to Page 137 for Part 31.
In the index for March, March, Make-rags, the page number was changed from 32 to 33.
“THE COMMONEWEAL, A Song for Unionists,” and “THE OLD CAUSE, A Counterblast” were printed as side-by-side columns over three pages. The poems were consolidated so that the stanzas of each poem are sequential.