Transcriber’s Note
Words in italics are marked with _underscores_.
Words in small capitals are shown in UPPER CASE.
Please also see the note at the end of the book.
THE CAIRN.
[Illustration: Decoration]
THE CAIRN
A GATHERING OF PRECIOUS
STONES FROM MANY
HANDS.
[Illustration: Decoration]
LONDON:
GEORGE BELL, 186, FLEET STREET.
1846.
[Illustration: Decoration]
TO THE READER.
My “Cairn” is principally raised by the hands of many friends whose
honoured names are now with the dead, whose kind sympathies have
cheered my checquered existence, and whose intercourse has often
corrected and enlightened my mind, leading it to seek in occupation
a refuge from painful feeling. These contributions, together with
original thoughts, and the gleanings of my own reading, I presume to
offer to the public; with the hope that where criticism finds ample
cause to condemn, my acknowledged weakness may plead for indulgence.
Several pages bear the record of memories associated with those dear
to me, and of events long past. I presume to believe, that the perusal
of the “Cairn,” cannot injure, and may not fruitlessly occupy or amuse
an idle hour.
A SOLDIER’S DAUGHTER.
[Illustration: Decoration]
CONTENTS.
Page
Joy and Sorrow 1
Anne of Austria 2
Maternal Love 2
Anecdote of Cardinal d’Estrées 3
The Cemetry at Pisa 3
Lady Vane 4
Benevolence 5
Woman’s Pride 5
Sir Walter Raleigh 5
Poverty 6
Atheism 6
Detraction--_Montesquieu_ 6
Temper 7
Set forms of expression--_Philips_ 7
Henri Quatre 8
A Parliament Heel 9
On a new-born Child--_Sir W. Jones_ 9
Speech of Mr. Cuffe 9
Woman’s Devotion 10
Savage the Poet 11
A Fable--_The Hon. Henry Erskine, late
Lord Advocate of Scotland_ 11
Poverty 17
Charity twice blessed 18
Portrait of Charles I. 18
The Ballad 19
On a Lady not celebrated for cleanliness--_The
late Lord Chancellor, The Lord Erskine_ 19
Lady M. W. Montague 20
Inscrutable Providence 20
The Mother of the Cagot 21
Virtue of Absence 21
Overstrained Feeling 21
The Essex Ring 22
A Prayer 23
Letter from his late Majesty, King William IV. 24
Joan of Arc 25
Bear and forbear 26
A Gentleman 26
The awakened Idolater 27
Henry IV. of France 28
Time 30
Charles I. 30
Merit and good Fortune 31
The Petition of a Monkey--_Lord Erskine, late
Chancellor_ 32
Taste and Custom 35
Filial Duty 36
King of Prussia and Voltaire 36
To a Daughter, on her Marriage 37
James I. 37
On the Death of the Hon. John Gore 38
Abraham to Isaac 39
Zarapha to Rebecca 39
The Mansion of Rest 40
National Taciturnity 42
Election by Balls 42
Anecdote of Robespierre 43
The Old Woman and her Ass--_The Hon.
Henry Erskine, Lord Advocate of Scotland_ 44
Life a mingled Yarn 46
Henry VIII. and Francis I. 47
Anecdote of Torregiano 47
Decline of Families 48
Robert Bruce 49
How to meet Afflictions 49
Soho 50
Loss of a Parent 51
Fruit 51
Anecdote of Frederick the Great 52
Equity 53
Mussulman 54
Matthias, Count Thurnes 54
Sir Thomas More 55
Key to Happiness 55
John de Pelham 56
Prayer on the Prospect of Death 57
Whitehall 58
Adieu 59
Indifference 59
Unrequited Love 60
The Cross 60
Solitude 60
Prayer--_Voltaire_ 61
Method of preserving a Plant 61
Misfortune a Crime 61
Grecian Tablets 62
Christmas Day 62
George IV. 62
Ton of the French 63
Frederick the Great 63
The Widow of Barnevelt 64
Filial Love 64
Submission to Providence 66
A Gentleman 66
Love silent 66
The Wandering Jew 67
Statues 67
Charles, Prince of Wales 68
Affliction 68
Philadelphia 69
Tradition 72
Sicilians 73
Ancient Poetry 74
The Hottentots 74
Sedley 75
On the Loss of a Watch--_Lord Erskine_ 75
L’amicale Persévérance 77
Epigram 77
To the May Fly 78
From my Mother 79
To revive a Flower 80
Scenes from the Life of Titian 81
Trees for my Cottage 93
The Hand of Heaven 94
Effects of Sorrow on the Mind 94
Bayle and his Mother 94
Traditions 95
The Graves of the Departed Loved 96
Eyes of the Mind 96
Philosophy 96
Refinement 97
Sea Bathing 97
Effect of Scenery 98
Inscription on a Sun Dial 99
Law of Jury 99
Tradition 100
Tobacco 100
Duchess d’Abrantes 101
Philip II. of Spain 102
Beauty 102
Jacobite Poetry 103
Ill-placed Confidence 104
Charity of Mind 104
Bells 104
La Mélancolie 105
A Fire Screen 105
Banquo’s Son 106
Uncertainty 106
The Drowning Fly 107
The Mulgrave Family 107
Le Bonheur 108
Catherine de Medicis 109
Epitaph 109
Prosperity and Adversity 110
The great Condé 110
Resignation 110
Le Tems 111
A Reflection--_Seneca_ 111
Maréchale de Luxembourg 112
The Spider 112
On Fenelon 112
Flowers 112
To-morrow 113
Letter of Marian Delorme 113
Physiognomy 116
A Father’s Death Bed 117
The Plague 118
Trifles 121
Margaret of Anjou and Renè of Sicily 122
To Julia 123
Good Nature 123
Welsh Air 124
Lines by Henry VI. 124
Manner 124
Lines by Raleigh 125
Speech of a Shawanese Chief 125
Greek Costume 126
On a Rose growing in a Skull--_Gen. Carrol_ 127
A fearful Witness 127
Thirteenth Century 128
Game of Cassino 128
Local Associations 128
On the Choice of a Wife 129
Henry IV. 129
Prayer by Mary Queen of Scots 129
Anecdote of the Duke of Suffolk 130
To the Memory of Sir Thomas Picton 130
True Magnanimity 131
On a Music Master--_The Hon. H. Erskine_ 131
The Emperor and the Opera Dancer 131
Gibbon 135
Herveys 135
Coquetry 135
Charles V. 136
Family MSS. 136
Dirge 137
Sir Thomas More 141
Providence--_Felicaii_ 142
Cromwell 143
Spanish Proverb 143
Epigram--_The Hon. H. Erskine_ 144
Hyder Ali--_Burke_ 144
The Seal 148
Thought 148
Pride of Birth 149
The Pretender 150
Chloe--_The Hon. H. Erskine_ 150
Thought 150
Duke of Buckingham 151
A Portrait 152
Churchyards in Denmark 152
Machiavelli 153
Dante 153
Petition of the Wife of an Indian Chief 154
Volcanos 157
Saint George 157
Poem 157
Queen of Bohemia--_Sir H. Wootton_ 158
Thought 159
Fire from Heaven 159
Origin of Coats of Arms 160
Lord Bacon 160
Bells 160
Arthur’s Round Table 161
Sir Walter Raleigh 162
Saint George 163
Duelling 163
Delight in Disorder--_Herrick_ 164
Lord Strafford’s Meditations 164
Time 167
Lamentations selfish 167
Thought 167
Lines from the Spanish 168
Phrenology 168
Stoves 169
Christina, Queen of Sweden 170
Sir Benjamin Rudyerd 172
King of Prussia’s Guard 174
Premature Judgment 174
Benvenuto Cellini 175
Thought 176
Mind and Body 176
Love 179
Wedding Rings 179
Hope and Grief--_W. Maddocks_ 180
Unjust Suspicion 181
Thought 181
Capucine Friars 181
Arms of the House of Medici 182
Michael Angelo 182
Sir Sidney Smith 192
Bees 192
Bayonets 194
Hope 194
Oliver Cromwell 195
Sandwiches 196
Catherine, Empress of Russia 196
The Milk Score 197
Duke of Monmouth 197
Death 199
Origin of the Title of Earl 200
Thought 201
James II. 202
Thought 202
Thought 202
Thought 202
Sea-fire 203
Lisez et Croyez 203
To a Lady 204
Troubadours 204
Thought 204
Letter from Mde. Du Duffand 205
Thought 205
Pride and Humility 205
Thought 206
Thought 206
Voltaire 206
Antipathies 208
Anne of Austria 209
The MSS. 213
Thought 213
The Nursing of Love--_Hon. W. Spencer_ 214
An Opera 215
Calumny and Detraction 215
Goût and Gout--_Lord Erskine_ 215
Les Lazzaroni 216
Louis XVIII. 217
Directions to a Porter 218
Title of Sforza 219
Duke of Calabria 219
Love and Reason 220
Clocks 222
Tea and Coffee 222
French and English 223
Scandal 223
Thought 223
Thought 224
Personal Beauty 224
Daguerrotype 224
Thought 224
Thought 224
Pyramids 225
The Congress 225
Sketch of our Saviour’s Person--_Josephus_ 226
Ennui 227
Thought 227
On an Infant 228
English, French, and Germans 228
Hôtel à Paris “à vendre, ou à louer” 228
Epigram 228
Russian Anecdote 229
Russian Anecdote 230
Hospitality of the remote Ages 231
Turkish Anecdote 231
Thought 231
Anti-Moine, or Antimony 232
Extract from Dr. Johnson’s Correspondence 232
Earl of Buchan 233
The State of Man 233
Parfilage 233
Taste 234
Les Riens 234
A Cottage in Scotland 235
Linnæus 237
Hortensia, or Hydranger 237
Filial Affection 237
Vestige of ancient Saxon Dialect 239
The Torpedo 240
Thought 240
Wait and Hope 240
Mother and Child 241
Louis XVIII. 241
Education 242
Dr. Johnson on the loss of his Mother 243
Recollections in the Cathedral at Malines or
“Mechlin” in Belgium 243
`A Madame Warner 244
To change the Colour of a Rose 244
Wholesome Truth 245
Sir Sidney Smith 245
Lines by Maucroix 245
The Prisoner of St. Helena 246
Children’s Shoes 246
Brantome 246
Hopelessness 247
The Coffee Tree 247
A Portrait 247
A Key to the Thoughts 248
Old China 248
The Indulgence of Providence 248
Les Assassins 249
Pausilippo 250
Gesner 251
Futurity 251
Death 252
Ambergris 252
Quinquina, or Peruvian Bark 253
Critique on David’s Picture of the Deluge 253
[Illustration: Decoration]
THE CAIRN
A GATHERING OF PRECIOUS STONES FROM MANY HANDS.
[Sidenote: Joy.]
Joy paints with its own colours every act and thought. The _happy_ do
not feel poverty, for delight is a gold tissued robe, and crowns them
with priceless gems. Enjoyment plays the cook to their homely fare,
and mingles intoxication with their simple drink. Joy strews the hard
couch with roses, and makes labour ease. Sorrow doubles the burthen to
the beaten down, plants thorns in the unyielding pillow, mingles gall
with water, adds saltness to their bitter bread, clothing them in rags
and strewing ashes on their bare heads. To our irremediable distress
every small and petty inconvenience comes with added force. We sink
beneath the additional feather chance throws on us; The grass-hopper is
a burthen.
❦
[Sidenote: Purgatory.]
Anne of Austria, queen of Louis XIII. was extremely delicate in all
that concerned the care of her person; it was scarcely possible to find
lawn or cambric sufficiently fine for her use. Cardinal Mazarin used
to say that her punishment in purgatory would be, her being obliged to
sleep in Holland sheets!
❦
[Sidenote: The recollection of a Mother.]
It is ever thus, whenever I am unhappy I bring distant and impossible
events together, I turn to the thought of you, my Mother, for comfort,
and I feel that _you are not_, that on earth you can never be again,
that all my grief, and all my love, multiplied a thousand fold, could
not recall you for one little hour; and I wish again for you, my
blessed Mother, as though but just snatched from me. Time, they say,
lessens grief. Yes, its constancy, not its intensity; it may give us
even long intervals of peace and happiness, but when grief does return,
it is strong and keen and deep as ever. How indeed can regret for such
a loss be lessened? Can the thought of a Mother’s love, such a love as
mine bore me, ever lose its charm, its influence? Not, I am sure, even
when the reality is lost; what it _was_ to me, so it _is_. Perishable
things alone lose their value. Time withers flowers, but does not dim
the diamond; and shall love for the being who gave us birth, the only
real emanation of the Deity, that burns within us, perish as a passion
of the earth? Can what is ethereal change its nature, as grosser
substances? the eternal become mortal, the infinite be bounded, and
what is born of the soul know death? Never!
❦
[Sidenote: Anecdote of Cardinal d’Estrées.]
“Cæsar bishop of Laon and Cardinal d’Estrées, son of the first Marshall
of France of that name, was employed in various negotiations with the
Princes of Italy; but is now more remembered for his courtier-like
reply to Louis XIV. That Monarch one day at dinner complained of having
lost all his teeth. ‘And who is there, Sire, that has any teeth?’
said the Cardinal (Sire, qui est-ce qui a des dents?). What made the
flattery the more ludicrously gross was, that the Cardinal, though an
old man, had remarkably fine teeth and showed them very much whenever
he opened his mouth.”
❦
[Sidenote: Church-yard at Pisa.]
The Church yard at _Pisa_ is surrounded by a superb Portico, and
contains earth impregnated with alkali, or calcareous salts, which
reduces the dead bodies to ashes in twenty four hours.
❦
[Sidenote: An Advertisement.]
Whereas Frances wife of the Right Honourable the Lord Viscount Vane,
has for some months past absented herself from her husband, and the
rest of her friends:--I do hereby promise to any person, or persons
who shall discover where the said Lady Vane[1] is concealed, to me, or
to Francis Harwes, Esq. her father, so that either of us may come to
the speech of her, the sum of £100, as a reward to be paid by me on
demand at my lodgings in Piccadilly. I do also promise, the name of the
person, who shall make such discovery shall be concealed if desired.
Any person concealing or lodging her after this advertisement shall
be prosecuted with the utmost rigour; or if her Ladyship will return
to me, she may depend upon being kindly received. She is about twenty
two years of age, tall, well shaped, has light brown hair, is fair
complexioned, and has her upper teeth placed in an irregular manner.
She had on when she absented a red damask French Lacque, and was
attended by a French woman who speaks very bad English.
VANE.
January the 24th. 1737.
[1] Lady Vane was the Lady of fashion whose adventures form so
interesting an episode in “Peregrine Pickle.”
❦
[Sidenote: Delicacy of Feeling.]
The best parts of human qualities are the tenderness and delicacy of
feeling in little matters, the desire to soothe and please others, the
minutiæ of the social virtues. Some ridicule these feminine attributes,
which are left out of many men’s natures: but I have known the brave,
the intellectual, the eloquent possess these gentle qualities; the
braggart, the weak, never! Benevolence and feeling ennoble the most
trifling actions.
❦
_On a Tablet in the South Aisle of St. Margaret’s Church, Westminster._
[Sidenote: Inscription.]
Within the walls of this Church was deposited the body of the great Sir
Walter Raleigh Kt. on the day he was beheaded in the old Palace yard
Westminster Oct. 18th. 1618.
Reader, should you reflect on his errors, remember his many virtues,
and that he was a mortal.
❦
[Sidenote: Alienation from Society.]
A woman must have either a very good or a very bad conscience, to find
happiness in a complete alienation from society.
❦
[Sidenote: Poverty.]
Oh Poverty! or what is called a reverse of fortune, among the many
bitter ingredients that thou hast in thy most bitter cup, thou hast
not one so insupportably bitter, as that which brings us in close and
hourly contact with the earthen ware and huckaback beings of the nether
world. Even the vulgarity of inanimate things it requires time to get
accustomed to, but living, breathing, bustling, plotting, planning,
human vulgarity, is a species of _moral ipecacuanha_, enough to destroy
any comfort.
❦
[Sidenote: Athéisme impossible.]
Si l’impiété pouvait se comprendre, ce serait au sein des grandes
villes où il ne reste presque plus rien de ce que Dieu a fait, où on
ne voit pas le Ciel. Mais en présence des grandes colères de l’océan,
l’homme se trouve à chaque instant dans des situations telles que la
puissance de tous les hommes réunis n’en pourrait sauver un seul.
Peut-on oublier Dieu, peut-on croire que les fleurs n’ont été inventées
que pour être jetées au théâtre à des danseuses en sueur?--
❦
[Sidenote: Calumny.]
Montesquieu says, I never listen to calumnies, because if they are
untrue I run the risk of being deceived, and if they be true, of hating
persons not worth thinking about.
❦
[Sidenote: Temper.]
When moralists, religionists, and philosophers of all sorts, set about
reasoning on the phenomena of the world we live in, and contemplating
the mass of human misery to be found therein, trace it to fearful
crimes, they overlook one little cause of suffering which blights
more happiness, and neutralises a greater portion of God’s bounteous
favours, than all the heinous enormities of our depraved race put
together. This hateful, stealthy, heart-destroying blight is often
found, where every thing like atrocious vice is utterly unknown, and
where many of the highest virtues flourish. All may exist, with a _sour
temper_!
❦
_Set forms of expression inserted for imitation, by Edward Philips, a
nephew of_ Milton’s.
[Sidenote: Forms of expression.]
You are the miracle of friendship.
You are the usurer of fame.
My genius and yours are friends.
I will unrip my very bosom to you.
My tongue speaks the freedom of my heart.
Sure winter dwells upon your lip, the snow is not more cold.
The sun never met the summer with more joy.
It is no pilgrimage to travel to your lips.
You are a white enchantress, lady, you can enchain me with a smile.
Her name like some celestial fire quickens my spirit.
Midnight would blush at this.
There’s music in her smiles.
I will, like the perfumed winde, sport with your hair. Report could
never have a sweeter air to fly in, than your breath.
Would I were secretary to your thoughts.
You walk in artificial clouds, and bathe your silver limbs in wanton
dalliance.
❦
[Sidenote: An Answer to Vanity.]
In the reign of Louis XIV. the citizens of Pau had petitioned the
King for leave to place a statue of “Henri quatre” in the market
place of this his native town. The only reply which the vain monarch
condescended to make was to send them his own statue. Of course
obedience was imperative, but in erecting the statue of Louis the XIV.
they inscribed on the pedestal, “This is the grandson of our good
Henri.”[2]
[2] Celui-ci est le petit fils de notre bon Henri.
❦
[Sidenote: Woman’s pride.]
The _Pride_ of woman, natural to her, never sleeps till _modesty_ is
gone.
❦
[Sidenote: “Parliament Heel.”]
What satire can be more pointed than the term applied by seamen when
desirous of ascertaining the rottenness of a ship’s lower timbers, or
detecting her unsoundness, they give her what they call a “_Parliament
heel_.”
❦
[Sidenote: On a new-born child.]
From the Persian by Sir William Jones.
On Parent knee, a naked new-born child,
Weeping thou sat’st, whilst all around thee smil’d,
So live, that sinking in thy last long sleep,
Pleas’d thou may’st smile, whilst all around thee weep.
❦
_Speech of Mr. Cuffe, Secretary to the Earl of Essex, who was executed
in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, for the same offence that brought his
master to the block._
[Sidenote: Speech of Mr. Cuffe.]
“I am here adjudged to die for acting an act never plotted, for
plotting a plot never acted. Justice will have her course; accusers
must be heard; greatness will have the victory; scholars and
naturalists (though learning and valour should have the pre-eminence)
in England must die like dogs, and be hanged.
To mislike this, were but folly! to dispute it, but time lost! to
alter it, impossible! but to endure it is manly, and to scorn it,
magnanimity! The Queen is displeased, the lawyers injurious, and death
terrible; but I crave pardon of the Queen; forgive the lawyers and the
world; desire to be forgiven, and welcome death!
❦
[Sidenote: Woman’s Love.]
Look at the career of Man, as he passes through the world; of Man,
visited by misfortune! How often is he left by his fellow man, to sink
under the weight of his afflictions, unheeded and alone! one friend
of his own sex forgets him, another neglects him, a third perhaps
betrays him; but woman, faithful woman, follows him in his misery with
unshaken affection; braves the changes of his feelings, of his temper,
embittered by the disappointments of the world, with the highest of all
the passive virtues; a resigned patience ministers to his wants, even
when her own are hard and pressing; weeps with him, “_tear for tear_,”
in his distress, and is the first to catch and to reflect a ray of joy,
should but one light up his languid countenance in the midst of his
sufferings: and never leave him to his misery, whilst there remains
one act of love, duty, or compassion to be performed. And at the last,
when life and sorrow cease together, follows him to the tomb with that
ardour of affection which death alone can destroy.
❦
[Sidenote: Life of Savage.]
It is related in proof of the deep interest with which Johnson’s life
of Savage must be perused, that Sir Joshua Reynolds, during a visit
at a friend’s in Devonshire, took it up one day by accident, and so
intensely did the work occupy his attention, that he continued in the
same position, leaning his elbow on the chimney piece till he had read
it through, when attempting to move his arm it was benumbed.
❦
_The Musical Instruments._
[Sidenote: A Fable.]
The Beaux and Belles were gone, the Concert o’er,
And Kelly’s sprightly strains were heard no more;
Thro’ the deserted room dead silence reign’d,
And still and dumb each tuneful string remain’d;
When from the case in which a Fiddle lay
Arose a voice that said or seem’d to say:
“Basses and Tenors, Kettledrums and Flutes,
Trumpets, and Horns, Fiddles, Flageolets,
From you that solemn groan to you that squeak,
Patient attend and hear a brother speak:
Oft have I mused with sorrow and regret,
Since here confined I mourn’d my captive state,
That tho’ from Harmony our being rose,
We unconnected live, nor friends nor foes;
Nor know society, till in the band
We yield our music to the master’s hand;
Those happy moments o’er, confined again,
Silent and un-united we remain:
Let us for mutual interest then combine;
To each his different share of power assign;
And from our choice that no dissension spring,
Speak, all, and let the worthiest be our King,
Under whose reign, by man when unemploy’d,
Peace, harmony and bliss may be enjoy’d.”
He spoke, thro’ all melodious accents ran,
And the slow solemn Organ thus began:
“Much I approve my four string’d brother’s scheme,
And own it oft has been my silent theme,
And since harmonic merit mounts the throne,
I claim the royal title as my own.
Observe me well when glorious here I stand,
And with a look alone respect command.
On me has man bestow’d his utmost care,
And as he found me great he found me fair;
My front with pipes of radiant gold array’d
Above the painter’s utmost art display’d;
This made a thousand instruments combine
And all in one great, glorious whole conjoin:
Nor do I boast of outward form alone,
For Harmony has mark’d me as her own;
Has taught my sweetly solemn sounds to flow
In all the pomp and majesty of woe;
Has taught my notes on seraph’s wings to fly,
And raise the ravish’d soul above the sky;
Has made in Heaven’s own that voice rever’d,
And kings to kneel whenever it is heard.
To whom then but to me shall pow’r be given,
Who rule on earth and lead the way to heaven?”
The Organ spoke majestically slow,
And thus the brazen Trumpet ’gan to blow:
“Were size enormous or were colours bright
To strike the judgment as they strike the sight,
The world’s great empire would disputed lie
’Twixt the huge whale and gilded butterfly;
But the gay peacock vainly strives to sing,
In vain the unwieldy ostrich spreads his wing,
While music swells the homely linnet’s throat,
And on the yielding air the little swallows float.
I boast no beauty then, I boast no size,
Since nought but merit true can gain the prize:
If so, I boldly call that prize my own,
And claim, whoe’er oppose that claim, the throne.
If warlike feats, if deeds of high renown,
Bravely perform’d, on men bestow the crown,
Like right is mine, who still am heard afar,
The dreadful harbinger of glorious war;
At whose loud voice, heroic ardour springs
In the bold hearts of heroes and of kings.
With them where’er they go, I brave my fate,
With them victorious share their royal state;
Till men whene’er my glorious voice they hear,
Know that a hero or a prince is near.
Such are my claims, let me your ruler be,
Receive a hero and a King in me.”
He ended, and the silver sounding Flute
Thus strove the boaster’s title to confute:
“Brothers of Harmony, whose breathings move
The human soul to virtue, peace, and love,
Shall we be ruled by one whose dreadful breath
Spreads thro’ the world division, discord, death?
Let kings for fame forget their people’s good,
And butchering heroes wade in harmless blood,
While we endeavour, as by Heaven design’d,
To soothe and not inflame the human mind.
In the sweet shade, and by the silent stream,
I softly sing, and peace and love my theme.
To my gay notes, beneath the checker’d shade,
Dance the blithe shepherd and the harmless maid.
Far from destroying war or faithless courts
I seek the scenes where innocence resorts,
There have I learnt betimes, in virtue’s school,
The _art_, do you bestow the _power_ to rule.”
Soon as the gentle Flute had spoke his claim
From every corner mingling murmurs came:
With loud commanding note the Fiddle swore
Ne’er was _his_ preference denied before;
’Twas he that still employed the master’s hand,
Follow’d obsequious by the list’ning Band;
Nay swore, that _Kelly_ learnt from him the art
To rule with magic sounds the human heart!
The Harpsichord, the fav’rite of the fair,
Talk’d much of _them_, and plac’d his merits there.
Clamour on clamour grew, each prais’d his own,
And strove his neighbour’s merits to run down;
Till frightened Harmony forsook the room,
And crashing Discord shook the lofty dome;
Up rose at last a chief of little _fame_,
Yet mighty _use_, and _Pitch pipe_ was his name;
In steady unison he thus began,
While wonder thro’ the place in murmur ran:
“Brethren of melody, to whom ’tis given
By man, first taught the glorious art by Heaven,
The various passions of the human soul,
To raise, to soothe, to heighten, to controul;
To thrill with softest sounds the lover’s heart,
To raise his transports, or to soothe his smart;
To cheer the sinking soul with liveliest air,
To soften madness or to calm despair;
To rule the thousand sympathies that bind,
With strongest, sweetest ties, the human mind.
Such are your powers while Harmony _shall_ reign,
By her forsaken, all those powers are vain.
His hallow’d notes in vain the Organ blows,
The Fiddle’s tone with sweet expression glows;
In vain the Flute soft blows his am’rous breath,
The strepent Trumpet speaks the sounds of death;
Vainly they strive to move the feeling soul,
Till heaven-born Harmony conduct the whole.
For _me_ one _note_ does all my power confine,
Employ’d for others’ uses, not for mine;
And yet, however small my compass be,
Harmonic _Union_ you must owe to me;
For still by me, whene’er you sound alone,
Or mix in concerts, must be fix’d your _tone_.
Then strive no more but fix on _me_ your choice,
Who save from discord, strife, confusion, noise;
So shall the powers of music matchless reign,
Nor has divine Cecilia come from heaven in vain.”
He said, and straight his tone, tho’ simple sound,
Conviction follow’d, and himself was crown’d.
’Tis thus, my friend, that in the human soul
The various movements _Reason_ should controul,
While headlong sallies Prudence should restrain,
And fancy yield to Judgment’s shady reign;
If the kind muse poetic rage inspire,
Or glows the breast with patriotic fire,
If wit, that seldomer does good than harm
’Midst social scenes, shall teach the tongue to charm,
If love with sweet sensations fills the mind,
Or sacred friendship mutual bosoms bind,
Howe’er with _genius_, _fancy_, _feeling_ blest,
’Tis Prudence must direct, or vain are all the rest.
❦
[Sidenote: Reflection.]
Let none imagine that the bare letter of duty or even the reputation
of good resolutions will bear them with “golden opinions” through a
life of action, despising those means which, like the farmer’s heavy
rollers, smoothen the ground they are compelled to crush. Let such
persons neglect that amenity, that considerate bearing, so essential
in the intercourse of life, and infallibly the return will be found a
bitter harvest of aversion.
❦
[Sidenote: Poverty.]
Print this in thy thought, that whatever virtue thou hast, be it never
so manifold, if thou be poor withal thou and thy qualities shall be
despised: besides Poverty is a shame amongst men, an imprisonment of
the mind, a vexation of every worthy spirit. Thou shalt neither help
thyself or others, thou shalt drown thee in all thy virtues, having
no means to show them; thou shalt be a burthen and an eyesore to thy
friends; every one will fear thy company.
❦
If you are wretched, the world will mock your wretchedness--if you are
poor, you will be insulted and contemned--and if proud, you will be
exposed to hourly mortification.
❦
Though nothing can be more galling to a generous spirit than to be
placed under obligation by meanness, it is purely delightful to be
beholden to one of its own calibre. Charity _is_ then indeed twice
blessed, when the giver and the receiver are equally elevated above the
selfish and sordid feelings of vulgar humanity.
❦
[Sidenote: Portrait of Charles I.]
It is recorded of the celebrated Sculptor Giovanni Lorenzi Bernini,
that on his seeing the painting by Vandyke which presents three
portraits of King Charles I. on the same canvass, the one a front face,
the other a half side, and the third a profile, the artist observed,
“whoever the individual be whose likeness these three portraits
represent, I am of opinion that the same will come to an untimely end.”
This painting had been expressly taken and forwarded to Rome in order
that Bernini might, from the resemblance, sculpture a marble bust of
the king; which accordingly he did, and King Charles, the best and
greatest patron of the arts that England can boast of, was so much
pleased with the performance, that he sent Bernini a very valuable
ring, saying to the person whom he commissioned to deliver it, “Andate
a coronar quello mano, che ha fatto si bel lavarno.”
❦
“The _Ballad_” was the favourite dance of the Italians. This word now
used only to designate the words of a peculiar species of _song_, is
derived from the Italian “_ballare_” to dance, and originally signified
a dance accompanied by a chaunt. This dance was probably pantomimic,
exhibiting the story of the accompanying verse by that expressive
gesticulation in which the Italians of all ages have excelled.
❦
_On a Lady not celebrated for her attention to cleanliness._
Accept, dear Peg, in moral lays,
The thanks a grateful heart repays;
Oft has my soul, puff’d up with pride,
The truths of sacred writ denied,
And to myself I still have said,
Sure mankind ne’er of dust was made,
Till thou, dear Peg, revers’d my creed,
And shew’d me, we are _dirt_ indeed.
❦
Relate your story simply, and never forget that overcharged accusations
will always assume in the eyes of the court the appearance of calumny.
❦
[Sidenote: Lady M. W. Montague.]
Spence says of Lady Mary Wortley Montague, that she is one of the most
shining characters in the world; but she is like a comet, she is all
irregularity, and always wandering: the most wise, most imprudent,
loveliest, most disagreeable, best natured, cruelest woman in the world.
Of herself she writes, “I thank God I still retain my taste for the
gay part of reading. Wise people may think it trifling, but it serves
to sweeten life to me, and is at least better than the generality of
conversation.” I know by experience how far the love of reading is
capable of softening the cruelest accidents of life: even the happiest
cannot be passed without many weary hours, and there is no remedy so
easy as books, which if they do not give cheerfulness, at least restore
quiet to the most troubled mind.
Gardening is certainly the next amusement to reading.
❦
The mild air gives birth to pestilence, and the whirlwind, though it
uproots trees, destroys the devouring locust. God blesses in a blow,
and punishes in a gift. To hasten the ripening of the fig, we pierce
it; and what so sweet as the wounded pulp?
❦
[Sidenote: The Mother of the Cagot.]
Strange but beautiful is the strength of maternal affection. This
object to all others so hideous--that for earth to hide his deformity,
for death to close upon his afflictions, seems a boon to be prayed
for, a mercy to be acknowledged with thankfulness--in the eyes of his
mother is one of hope and of interest as great as the most perfect. She
weeps not that he was born, but that he dies; weeps as passionately as
the parent who loses the most beautiful, the most gifted offspring:
perhaps more so than if he _had_ been beautiful and gifted, for then
he would not have been exclusively dependant on her love and care. Is
it not right there should be a source in the desert as well as in the
valley? Blessed is the illusion the mother’s heart lends to her eyes!
yet alas! for the “_Cagot_,” the earth brings forth healing herbs in
vain, the Church withholds her rites in vain. Their degradation, their
destitution is appalling.
❦
As the storm which bruises the flower nourishes the tree, so absence,
which starves a weak affection, strengthens a strong one.
❦
Strain the Bow, and the arrow swerves; such is the case with the mind.
❦
[Sidenote: The Essex Ring.]
_Lines written by Buchanan, in the year 1564, and sent by Mary Queen of
Scotland, with a diamond ring, to Elizabeth Queen of England._
This Gem, behold, the emblem of my heart,
From whence my Cousin’s image ne’er shall part;
Clear in its lustre, spotless does it shine;
As clear, as spotless is this heart of mine.
What tho’ the stone a greater hardness wears,
Superior firmness still the figure bears.
This is the same ring so celebrated afterwards as that given by Queen
Elizabeth to the Earl of Essex, and intrusted with a prayer for his
life by that unfortunate nobleman to the Countess of Nottingham, who
perfidiously concealed her mission till the solemnity of a death-bed
influenced her to disclose the circumstance to the Queen. The ring is
now in the possession of the descendant of Sir Thomas Warner, to whom
it was given by King James I.
❦
[Sidenote: Reflections.]
I regret the not having oftener noted down the hopes and agitations
which have often influenced my feelings: it would have furnished some
apology for that fitful and impatient inequality of manner, which has
arisen from the strain of feeling which each hour has brought with
it--the pain arising from the ineffectual struggle to obtain the credit
for good intentions, and the just appreciation of my motives.
I begin to find every effort vain; and after years of anxious labour
and personal sacrifice, I have only reaped one certain harvest--the
just valuation of my fellow beings; so different from what I saw it
under happier circumstances. I have acquired the certainty that the
poor are made poorer, the sorrowing more sad, whenever it is from a
fellow worm we look for aid or comfort; and that the best, the most
upright intentions will not shield the unprotected from those who are
only strong from our incapacity to resist.
❦
_Flacourt’s History of Madagascar contains the following sublime
Prayer, said to be used by the people we call Savages._
“O Eternal, have mercy upon me, because I am passing away. O Infinite,
because I am weak. O Sovereign of life, because I draw nigh to the
grave. O Omniscient, because I am in darkness. O All bounteous, because
I am poor. O All sufficient, because I am nothing.”
❦
_From his late Majesty, King William IV. to Sir Charles Shipley, on his
release from a French prison, through the heroic exertions of his
wife._
Richmond, January 6th, 1796.
Dear Sir,
Last week I received yours of the 31st and Mrs. Shipley’s of the 8th
of October, by which I am happy to find you have at last effected your
exchange, and that you have the additional satisfaction to receive it
at the hands of your affectionate wife. My best wishes and compliments
attend Mrs. Shipley. Assure her from me I shall always preserve her
letter as a proof of her real affection for her husband and children.
I hope and believe the time will come when I shall have the power
to exert my friendship in your behalf; and be persuaded, that this
instance of Mrs. Shipley’s fortitude and exertions for her family will
ever find in me the warmest friend. I shall be happy to hear from you
of those events which may both tend to the honour of our country and
the advantage of you and your family. Adieu, my dear friend: God bless
you and yours again and again, and ever believe me, my good Sir,
Yours sincerely,
WILLIAM.
❦
[Sidenote: Joan of Arc.]
It is not possible to reflect on the fate of this hapless Visionary
without the deepest interest: whether she be considered as really
believing herself as _Heaven-sent_, or as a young and uneducated
enthusiast, quitting her humble path in life, and by the sole aid of
her own talents obtaining the confidence of the greatest heroes of the
day. If policy rendered her a necessary victim to its purposes, it must
be lamented that such was the case.
Her statue in the market place at _Rouen_, is the first object to which
the Cicerone of that town conducts the curious traveller; but I would
recommend my countrymen to avoid this spot: as an _Englishwoman_ I felt
uncomfortable, when I turned from the meek placid features shaded by
the plumes of the warrior’s casque. The comments of my Norman guide
were needless, and in reply to his invectives against “les Anglais,” I
could only sigh, “’Tis true, ’tis pity--pity ’tis ’tis true.”
“Jeanne d’Arc, known by the designation of the ‘Maid of Orleans,’ was
born at the village of Domremi sur Meuse, and was a servant at an inn:
being endowed with bodily strength, and a hardihood of character beyond
her sex, she introduced herself to the brave _Dunois_, as the chosen
champion of France, and distinguished herself in the cause of Charles
VII. She was taken prisoner at _Compiegn_ in 1430, and conducted to
_Rouen_, where, being condemned as a sorceress by the Ecclesiastical
Power, to which she was given up by the English chiefs, she was burnt
alive in the public market place. In speaking of this unfortunate
Amazon, _Malherbe_ aptly observes that, having lived like _Alcides_, it
was just she should die as he died.
L’ennemi tous droits violant,
Belle Amazone, en vous brûlant
Témoigna son âme perfide;
Mais le destin n’eut point de tort;
Celle qui vivoit comme _Alcide_,
Devoit mourir comme il est mort.
❦
_Bear and forbear._
The longer I live in this world of roses and thorns, the more I learn
to revere those philanthropic axioms, “Bear and forbear,” “Live and let
live,”--and to reverence a faith, whose Christian founder has made it a
condition of having our trespasses forgiven, that we should forgive the
trespasses against us.
❦
Liberality and generosity of feeling is the surest test of a gentleman.
❦
[Sidenote: The awakened Idolater.]
Until I sought and found the living God, I was an Idolater. I asked
the carved wood to lengthen my days, and the sapless image to give me
health. I fashioned a statue of molten silver, and bowed down before
the works of my hands. I adored the brute nourished by my care, and
demanded protection from the herbs planted by my labour. But when I
reflected that all things perished, I asked how I could be indebted for
life to that which could not ensure life to itself? The glorious sun
then appeared to me deserving of worship, until my mind enquired by
whom that sun was made.
I examined the texture of a flower, and called it admirable: I watched
the motions of an insect, and beheld its organs perfect: I strove to
build a nest, but the sparrow was the better workman. I saw the cranes
fly against the wind, and the fishes against the stream, and I asked,
who had taught them thus to protect their feathers and their scales.
I marked the birds of passage, and said to the new-fledged swallow
prepared for flight, Why thus leave thy home for distant and unknown
regions? Wilt thou find good and congenial air whither thou goest? Who
instructs thee when to depart? Who will guide thy course through the
trackless firmament? and how wilt thou know the season to return? I
saw the woodpecker turn her eggs, that they might equally receive the
vital warmth; and the partridge trail her wing before the ensnarer, to
beguile his footsteps from her young. I observed that the wild beasts
slept while man was abroad, and that they sought their prey while man
slept. How equally, said I, are the waters balanced, and how great the
influence of the stars! The movements of the planets, the changes of
the moon, the repelling and attracting qualities of the sun, all--all
alike marvellous and sublime. Whom do these things obey? what hand doth
direct the great machinery of the universe? and for whom were all these
goodly wonders created? I then looked upon myself: I examined my limbs,
my powers, my senses. There is a Providence! I cried, and the idols
of wood dropped from my hand. There is but one God! I exclaimed, the
Almighty, Creator of all things in heaven and on earth, Source of all
good and harmony; and henceforth, Him only will I worship!
❦
[Sidenote: Henry IV. of France.]
“Henry, par la grâce de Dieu, roi de Navarre, prince souverain de
Béarn, premier pair et prince de France, s’oppose à la déclaration
et excommunication de Sixte V. soi-disant pape de Rome, la maintient
fausse et en appelle comme d’abus en la cour des pairs de France,
desquels il a l’honneur d’être le premier; et en ce qui touche le crime
d’hérésie, de laquelle il est faussement accusé par cette déclaration,
dit et soutient que Monsieur Sixte, soi-disant pape, sauve sa sainteté,
en a malicieusement menti, et que lui-même est hérétique. Ce qu’il
fera prouver en plein concile libre et légitimement assemblé; auquel,
s’il ne consent, et ne s’y soumet, comme il est obligé par ses droits
canons mêmes, il le tient et déclare pour anté-christ et hérétique:
et en cette qualité veut avoir guerre perpétuellement irréconciliable
avec lui; proteste cependant de nullité; et de recourir contre lui et
ses successeurs, pour réparation d’honneur et de l’injure qui lui est
faite, et à toute la maison de France: que si, par la passé, les rois
et princes ses prédécesseurs ont bien su chatier la témérité de tels
galans, comme est ce prétendu pape Sixte, lorsqu’ils se sont oubliés
de leurs devoirs, confondant le temporel avec le spirituel: le dit roi
de Navarre, qui n’est en rien inférieur à eux, espère que Dieu lui
fera la grâce de venger l’injure faite à son roi, à sa maison et à
toutes les cours des parlemens de France, sur lui et ses successeurs;
implorant, à cet effet, l’aide et secours de tous les princes, rois,
villes et communautés vraiment chrétiennes, auxquelles ce fait touche:
aussi, prie tous alliés et confédérés de cette couronne de France, de
s’opposer, avec lui, à la tyrannie et usurpation du pape et des ligués
conjurateurs en France, ennemis de Dieu, de l’état, de leur roi, et
du repos général de toute la chrétienté. Autant en proteste Henry de
Bourbon, prince de Condé. Affiché en la ville de Rome, le 6 Novembre,
1585.”
Cette protestation fut placardée pendant la nuit dans les rues
principales de Rome, contre les palais des cardinaux, et sur les portes
même du Vatican.
❦
[Sidenote: Time.]
Time is but a name; it is what is done in time that is the substance:
what are twenty-four centuries to the hard rock, more than twenty-four
hours to man, or twenty-four minutes to the ephemera? Are there not
periods in our own existence in which space, computed by its true
measure of thoughts, feelings, and events, mocks the penury of man’s
artificial scale, and comprises a lifetime in a day.
❦
[Sidenote: Charles I.]
Authorised by the doctrines of the age, by his consequent education,
and by the natural gravity and elevation of his own mind to ascend the
throne as the anointed of his Creator, it was the doom of Charles I.
to witness the divine authority of his crown trampled upon, the might
of his magnificent hierarchy overwhelmed, the civil institutions of
his realm swept away, all that he deemed sacred profaned, all that he
revered denied, all that he considered established subverted, and in
their stead new doctrines and new practices introduced, much of which
was monstrous, and all extraordinary. In this unparalleled state of
affairs, instead of disappearing from the stage like an insignificant
actor overwhelmed by the unexpected importance of his part, we find
on the contrary the English monarch the most energetic and the most
interesting personage during the long, the fearful, and the dubious
struggle. When the struggle was over, the king came forward, and closed
his career by a most miserable death--dying with the same decision
with which he had lived; and while he was covered with execration and
obloquy as the _tyrant_, by one party, who feared that if he were not a
tyrant, they might perhaps be considered traitors, he was hailed by the
greater portion of the nation with tears and prayers as the martyr.
❦
Notre mérite nous attire l’estime des honnêtes gens, et notre étoile
celle du public.
❦
The late Lord Chancellor Erskine was at the commencement of his career
in life in the army, and when a young Ensign was quartered at Minorca,
under the command of General Johnston, whose wife, the Lady Cecilia,
had a favourite monkey, which had so incurred her disgrace from its
mischievous propensities, as to have been ordered to be sent out of the
house. Mr. Erskine having learnt the sad fate which awaited the culprit
monkey, and being invited to dine at the Government house, wrote the
following lines, and placed them in Peter’s paw; they were thus offered
to his mistress’s attention as the party passed on to the dining room,
and obtained Peter’s pardon.
❦
_The Petition of a Monkey under Sentence of Exile._
The humble petition of sorrowful Peter!
With submission set forth, and runs thus in metre.
I think if I’m rightly informed of the crime
For which I am banish’d, it stands thus in rhyme;
For tearing of books, for mischief and stealing,
And tricks of all kinds, from the ground to the ceiling.
All culprits are punished, if Lord Coke says true,
Not for love of revenge, but for harm that they do;
On this common maxim my pleadings I found,
And th’ affair of the book must soon fall to the ground.
There was never a book, I’ll be bound to engage,
Above all, in our day, but might well spare a page,
And mankind, as well as e’en authors, might look
With smiles on a monkey devouring a book.
’Tis as well for a volume, I’ll hazard an oath,
To be chew’d by a monkey, as by critic or moth:
And then, as to reading, all wits have confest it,
You never can profit, unless you digest it;
And monkeys and men, from the north to the south,
Can only digest what they put in their mouth.
Much more might be said, if I chose to enlarge,
But I’d rather proceed to the rest of my charge.
To accuse me of mischief, and tax me with stealing,
Is really a want of all sense and all feeling,
Since Nature, who ripens the figs and the grapes,
Is no nearer kindred to man than to apes;
And the fair teeming Earth, our bountiful mother,
Loves Peter as dearly as Adam his brother.
’Tis because you are strongest, you seize upon all,
And the weakest, we know, must be forc’d to the wall.
Equipt as I am, in my shabby old gray,
I cannot quite hazard what other folks may;
But could I, yet I speak with respect and submission,
By some lucky hit get an Ensign’s commission--
I see you all laugh, but titter away,
I’m not the _first_ monkey, I’ll venture to say.
’Tis no such hard matter to play well at cards,
And I think I should soon be the _ton_ in the Guards.
As to height, I confess with regret I’m not tall,
But Lord A--c--m and I might parade in the Mall.
And a bag from Miss Brace,[3] with a good handsome wig,
Might, I think, pretty soon put on foot an intrigue.
What might not be done with my air, and my shape,
At a Court where ’tis the fashion to look like an ape?
What duels! what battles! what murders! what slaughters!
What tears would be shed both by mothers and daughters!
What groups in the anguish of cutting a horn,
Would wish in despair I had never been born!
Yet faith, to my sorrow I fear I should see
Ten thousand much more like to monkeys than me,
And mad for some fair one might steal forth to meet her,
And find her eloping with some other Peter.
Yet spite of these rubs, I should have the renown,
To be one of the finest young fellows in town.
Then since exile’s my fate, I implore with a tear,
To be shipped off for England, for that is my sphere.
If to this my petition, you start no objection,
My cousin, Tom Erskine, has pledged his protection,
I suppose, like the Scots--on account of connection!
[3] A celebrated Milliner of the day. Lord Ancram was of particularly
low stature.
❦
[Sidenote: Taste and Custom.]
Taste and custom govern the opinion in this day, as in those more
ancient. An Athenian and a Lacedemonian lady being placed near to each
other at an assembly where they met, each hastily, and with apparent
disgust, turned her head from the other. The Athenian, because she
could not endure the smell of _oil_ which came from the Spartan, and
the latter from her dislike to the perfumes of the Grecian.
❦
[Sidenote: Filial Duty.]