A TRIP TO THE NORTH--METRICAL ATTEMPTS--CONTRASTS--PARIS: A FAIR--A
REVIEW--NADAR'S BALLOON--SPORT, TURF, BOXING--LIQUOR VEHICLES--NO
HODS--A HORSE, A DOG, RATS.
I took a run to Belfast in 1862, and from thence through Carrickfergus,
and along the coast-road to the Giant's Causeway, where I spent two days
most agreeably. At the Causeway hotel I met several gentlemen, to one of
whom I was known, and by him was introduced to the others. Their society
was extremely pleasant; for although they differed in their views and
opinions on certain subjects, their conversation was completely free
from acerbity. In referring to the preference of certain colors by the
inhabitants of northern or southern districts, an anecdote was related
of a wrangle between two young fellows who had come from very distant
parts of Ireland, to be employed in one of the great monetary
establishments of Dublin, and who resided at Sandymount. I have not
introduced into my preceding pages any expressions indicative of
political or religious preferences, and I think that the "wrangle" may
be submitted to the perusal of all parties or sects without offending
their feelings or exciting their prejudices. I thought it curious and
amusing, and it induced me to attempt to narrate, in a versified form,
the antagonistic tendencies of--
GREEN AND ORANGE--ORANGE AND GREEN.
"There is a flow'r I dearly love, and which with pride I bear
Upon my head, or next my heart, none with it can compare;
It is the Orange Lily, to which glorious memories cling,
Of Derry, Boyne, or Aughrim, 'twill the recollection bring.
Some roots I have procured to plant, and when their flow'rs appear,
I'll hail them as the emblems of the cause I hold most dear."
Thus spoke a sturdy Northern lad. A Munster boy was nigh,
And heard the words which, he conceived, an insult did imply.
"I hate, I loathe your gaudy flow'r," disdainfully he cried;
"It shall not grow, its tints to show, wherever I abide.
Your lily shall be trampled if it ever meets my sight."
The blood of both was thus aroused and eager for a fight;
An aged man reproved them, bade their bitter taunts to cease,
And then suggested that his taste each might indulge in peace.
"My friend, I'll plant your lily, let its color glad your eyes,
No hateful green shall intervene to rival its rich dyes.
There's space enough throughout the land where those who love to see
The verdant hue may freely view the sod, the shrub, the tree."
The old man took the lily roots entrusted to his care,
With which the rival youths agreed no more to interfere.
In genial soil, of aspect warm, at once he planted them,
But as each primal leaf arose he nipp'd it from the stem.
He said the green must not appear the orange flow'r beside,
The blossom bright should meet the sight in undisputed pride.
But then the blossom, lone and bare, without the friendly aid
Of leaves to shield its rising stem soon wither'd and decay'd.
The abortive root unto the youths the old man then display'd.
"Both colors are essential to the perfect flow'r," he said.
"You cannot have the orange if the green you take away,
The plant affords a lesson--may it reach your hearts, I pray."
METRICAL ATTEMPTS.
I shall venture to offer two or three more productions to the readers of
these pages. If my metrical attempts are considered even below
mediocrity, they will serve to make others more acceptable. The coarse,
homely attire of the peasant is a foil tending strongly to enhance
admiration for the courtly costumes of the upper classes; and the weeds
that blossom in our hedgerows, or on the sides of our highways, render
us unconsciously more appreciative of the floral beauties displayed in
the gardens of aristocratic mansions. My own recollections enable me to
compare much of the past with the present, and render me desirous of
endeavouring to describe some of the changes which have occurred since--
LONG AGO.
Yon tree whose massive timber
The storms assail in vain,
I've seen a sapling limber
A child might rend in twain;
And in the churchyard yonder,
It's planter's lying low,
Whilst on its growth I ponder,
And think of LONG AGO.
Yon brook that quickly courses
To turn the busy mill,
Then spent its unclaim'd forces
Adown the heath-clad hill.
The heather to plantation
Has yielded, and below,
A bustling railway station
Contrasts with LONG AGO.
The breeze is freshly blowing
Full in yon harbour's face,
And yet some craft are going
Their wat'ry way to trace.
The adverse wind unheeding,
The waves aside they throw;
By steam their journey speeding--
How changed from LONG AGO.
I meet a friend--he mentions
That news of import grand,
O'er half the earth's dimensions
Has reach'd the Irish land.
Th' events occurr'd this morning,
And now each fact we know
By an electric warning,
Undreamt of LONG AGO.
The village school is ending
Its labours for the day,
Each child, released, is wending
Its joyous homeward way.
Blithe be their youthful gambols,
Uncheck'd by care or woe,
As were my boyhood's rambles,
How long, how LONG AGO.
And as my tott'ring paces
Proceed, there's at my side
One whom for varied graces
I gladly make my bride.
Her dark hair then contrasted
With locks now tinged with snow,
But still our love has lasted
The same as LONG AGO.
Thus let it be for ever--
Let Youth enjoy its time;
Let Age, contented, never
Regret its vanish'd prime.
Life's joys, life's hopes, life's duties,
Each passing year will show,
And retrospective beauties
Appear in LONG AGO.
Amongst the pictures which have, within my memory, been exhibited in
Dublin, one painted by Paul Delaroche was regarded by me with surpassing
admiration, in which feeling I was certainly not singular, for I found
it equally appreciated by many others who viewed it at Le Sage's in
Sackville Street. It was said to have originated in an extraordinary
reverie of the artist, who, whilst suffering from fever, imagined that
he beheld the corpse of a young and beautiful female, whose hands and
feet had been tightly bound, drifting along a deep and rapid river. On
recovering from his malady, Delaroche delineated this vision, and then
considered what title he should give the production. On searching the
records of martyrdom he could not discover the name of any sainted
victim of persecution who had perished in the manner indicated; but
finding that the Emperor Diocletian had, about the year of our Lord 300,
caused some hundreds of his Christian subjects to be drowned in the
Tiber for refusing to abjure their faith, he named the picture "La
Martyre Chretienne." It has been engraved, lithographed, and
photographed so much, as to evince a general admiration of the
conception and artistic power of the painter. I have written some lines
on this subject, and have endeavoured to adopt the metre of Ariosto,
which I consider not unsuitable to an incident connected with Italy and
the ancient days of the Eternal City. The concluding stanza alludes to
the lambent circle which, in the painting, appears above the head of--
THE CHRISTIAN MARTYR.
The sedgy margin of his yellow stream
Beholds old Tiber rolling to the main,
In eddies silver'd by the struggling beam,
Wooing the ripples which it can't retain.
A mutual mockery, a vap'ry dream,
Illusive, unsubstantial, cold, and vain
As human hopes, like ev'rything of earth,
Passing, unpausing, dying e'en in birth.
That river has beheld the glorious day
When chaste Lucretia's wrongs awoke the ire
That freed her country from the Tarquin's sway;
Upon that bank Virginia from her sire,
Loathing the brutal Appius to obey,
When in his breast there raged a base desire,
In her pure heart received the fatal knife,
Preferring death to a dishonor'd life.
Upon that bank in youthful beauty stood
The virgin Cloelia, when with high disdain
She scorn'd Porsenna's pow'r, and deem'd the flood
Was easier to stem than tyrant's chain
Could be endured; and there the multitude
Of foes on Cocles fiercely press'd in vain,
There, one 'gainst thousands, he maintain'd his post,
And foil'd the foremost of Etruria's host.
Upon that classic bank did Mutius stand,
And in the midst of his astonish'd foes
Upon the altar there he placed his hand
Unshrinking, round it whilst the flames arose,
To show th' invader of his native land
How he could scorn the torture's fiercest throes,
And that no tyrant's power could be secure
Against a patriot's purpose, firm and pure.
All these were high and noble in their daring,
In distant ages were their deeds achieved,
But they had earthly motives strongly bearing
Them onward in their course, for they believed
That man would honor them. Nor scant nor sparing
Has been the classic fame they have received,
And history still delights to gild her pages
With deeds like theirs from Rome's incipient ages.
But still old Tiber's course hath onward sped,
And other incidents of higher fame
Have on his banks a holy lustre shed,
There Diocletian did his will proclaim--
That to the ancient stream there should be led
His Christian subjects, and the sacred name
Of Christ should be abjured, or Tiber's wave
Should those engulf who own'd His pow'r to save.
In youthful innocence a beauteous maid
Stands 'mongst the victims doom'd with lips compress'd,
And eyes already closed--she hath essay'd
To banish earthly thoughts. Upon her breast
Her hands are folded--she hath meekly pray'd,
And He to whom her pray'r has been address'd,
To whom she clings all faithful, gives her pow'r
To meet the terrors of life's closing hour.
They bind her hands--she heeds not the infliction
Of cords that sink into her tender limb;
She, thinking of her Saviour's crucifixion--
Her soul hath flown to Calvary to Him.
She meekly hears each heathen malediction,
Heav'n seems to ope as earth appears more dim;
Her fate severe for thrones she would not barter,
And now she sinks--a Christian Maiden Martyr!
Her form is slowly gliding to the sea,
Her soul to Paradise its way is winging,
Upon her pallid face serenity
Shows that to earth her heart was never clinging;
To all the elements her corse may be
Abandoned, but the seraph choir is singing,
And chaplets fairer than the flow'rs of Eden
In Heav'n shall deck the martyr'd Christian maiden.
Still o'er her drifting form a circlet golden
Upon the river sheds its lambent rays,
As though it would the lively hope embolden
The martyr's truth shall shine in future days,
And when her bones have moulder'd deep and cold in
Their ocean grave, men shall accord their praise
To him whose reverie or vision mystic
Her suff'rings shall depict with grace artistic.
The following lines were suggested by a visit to an extensive paper
manufactory at Inchicore, which, I regret to say, is not working at
present:--
I stray'd along a village street,
And as in listless mood I wander'd,
The breeze had wafted to my feet
Something on which awhile I ponder'd.
Was it a precious talisman,
Whose magic tracings doth unfold
A right by which its bearer can
Claim and obtain the treasured gold?
Was it a flow'r with tints array'd
Such as the vernal suns bestow,
Richer than monarch e'er display'd,
Was it a fragrant flowret? No!
Was it a feather dropt away
From some wild bird of varied hues?
From moors whereon the plovers stray,
Or groves wherein the ringdove coos?
Was it the down the thistle yields,
That sails through air like drifting snow?
Or fairy flax from fenny fields,
Or plume from warrior's helmet? No!
Or manhood's locks, or maiden's hair,
Wafted by breeze through village street?
Nor this, nor these--but lying there
A filthy rag was at my feet.
With dirt begrimed, that remnant mean,
Crushed in the mire, I saw no more;
But yet I mused on what had been
Its various uses heretofore.
The great, the humble, grave or gay,
Noble or base, whoe'er it clothed,
Reject it now, and cast away,
'Tis only seen but to be loathed.
Such were my thoughts till slumber came,
And then by fancy's vivid light
Methought that rag, the very same--
Appear'd again before my sight.
No longer were its folds defiled,
But pure and white it seem'd as snow,
And 'neath a roller whirling wild,
I saw the worthless fragment go.
And bleach'd and clean, by that machine
'Twas triturated fast;
And when 'twas found completely ground,
O'er wires its pulp was pass'd.
And on and on that rag hath gone,
'Neath cylinders I traced it,
And there it roll'd through heat and cold,
Whilst giant force embraced it.
And I could mark th' electric spark[22]
Gleam like a fairy taper;
And fair and smooth as the brow of youth,
That filthy rag was PAPER.
Material fit for Holy Writ
And tidings of salvation--
Material grand for a struggling land,
When seeking liberation.
Material proud to warn aloud
'Gainst slavery's subtle meshes--
Material true to teach the few
The many's rights are precious.
Material meet for tidings sweet
Of distant recollection--
Material best to purge each breast
Of Bigotry's infection.
Material bright to guide and light
The onward march of Reason--
Oh! that old rag has form'd a flag
For man's best thoughts to blazon.
Then may its use each day produce,
From pen and press united,
Each noble thought by which we ought
To feel our souls excited.
May Honor grand, with Virtue bland,
Inspire it and direct it,
Till wheresoe'er 'tis hoisted, there
That flag shall be respected.
In the pages which I have yet to submit to the indulgent consideration
of my readers, it is not my intention to continue the insertion of
specimens of my metrical tendencies. The remainder of my reminiscences
are chiefly derived from a residence of eighteen months in Paris in
1864-5. That city has been subjected to much suffering amongst her
inhabitants, and to the destruction of magnificent palatial and
municipal edifices since the time to which my visit refers; and the
Imperial dynasty, that then seemed perfectly secure against Bourbon
rivalry or republican designs, has experienced a complete extinction,
without any apparent chance of its revival. Notwithstanding all the
changes which have occurred within the last ten years, I feel convinced
that there are many sights which the French capital can still present to
the observation of a traveller from this country, and which will remain
indelibly impressed on his memory, either through their intrinsic beauty
or magnificence, or still more by the marked contrast they exhibit to
objects similar in name here, but in which the name is the only
resemblance. He who reflects on the presence of some objects and the
absence of others, will be frequently more astonished at not seeing than
in beholding. I think that this remark can be exemplified. There is a
fair in Paris which is held, during the entire month of January, on the
Boulevards, extending from the Madeleine to the Place de la Bastille, a
distance of about three English miles. It is resorted to by the most
respectable classes. There are wooden booths erected at both sides of
the Boulevard, on the footways; and the articles offered for sale
comprise "everything, and anything else you may wish for." Children have
their toys and confections. Hats, lamps, shoes, boots, jewels, hosiery,
glass, birds, mountebanks, newspapers, portable baths, guns, groceries,
gloves, cutlery, false teeth, false beards, false eyes, false legs,
tempt the adults. There are, however, no horses, cattle, sheep, or swine
offered for sale, the live stock, consisting only of poultry, rabbits,
pigeons, and Guinea-pigs. To an Irishman it is a fair only in name. I
visited it frequently, and saw it early and late, but I did not hear an
altercation or see a fight, or any person intoxicated. Oh, Donnybrook!
how different from your defunct glories! How could a Patlander recognise
any resemblance in a scene of peaceable amusement, excited and busy, but
without a reel or a blow, to the classic spot, where "batin' was chape
as dirt" amongst
"Hearts soft with whisky, and heads soft with blows."?
A REVIEW.
I was at a review in honor of the Emperor's birth-day, or perhaps it
should be termed the "Napoleon day," for it was held on the 15th of
August, 1864, the real natal day of the third Napoleon being the 20th of
April, and the other day being the anniversary of the first Napoleon's
nativity in 1769. There were more than 100,000 troops on the ground, the
Champ de Mars, but nearly the half were National Guards. The concourse
of spectators was immense. When his Imperial Majesty arrived, there was
not a hat raised, neither was there a shout uttered, nor a shot fired.
The troops defiled before him in slow and quick time, and then he
departed. I must have been afflicted on that day with temporary
deafness, for I saw it announced in several newspapers of the following
morning, that his Majesty had been received with the loudest
acclamations.
NADAR'S BALLOON.
Neither at the review to which I have adverted, nor at the ascent of
Nadar's giant balloon, where a still greater multitude were assembled,
did I see an intoxicated person, or witness any disturbance or
altercation. I am far from averring that intoxication does not occur
amongst the French, but I believe it to be very infrequent. On a
summer's evening, in the Avenue de Neuilly, I observed three workmen,
and they were inebriated. Each of them was insisting that the other two
should carry him, and they successively tried the experiment, but it
terminated always in the tumbling of the three. The spectators were
laughing, and the fellows themselves seemed to enjoy the fun, without
the slightest asperity towards those who indulged in merriment at their
falls. I thought that in my own country there would have been a very
prompt offer made, by any tipsy fellows who were laughed at, to supply
the company present with an immediate assortment of darkened eyes and
ensanguined noses.
SPORT, TURF, BOXING.
Some of our words have been pretty generally adopted by the Parisians.
"_Sport_" is frequently used in reference to hunting and racing, but I
never heard it applied to shooting or coursing; and it is remarkable
that the word, with the addition of an "e," also signifies the basket of
a mendicant friar. Le _Turf_ is, as a racing term, understood in the
same sense as amongst ourselves; and the monosyllable by which we
express a pugilistic contest, is used to invite or describe an encounter
between two combatants who are unprovided with weapons. Outside a
wine-house, at Vaugirard, I witnessed a quarrel, and heard the
invitation, "_Voulez-vous box?_" The affair commenced by the parties
stripping off their blouses, and then, with raised arms and open hands,
capering before each other, as if watching an opportunity to strike. I
did not see a box given; for, after a few feints, one combatant gave the
other a fearful kick in the pit of the stomach, which stretched him in
the greatest agony, and loud acclamations from amongst the bystanders
greeted the conqueror. On another occasion, in the Rue de L'oratoire,
after a similar challenge, the parties did not strike or kick, but had a
wrestle, which terminated in one getting the other down; he then seated
himself on his prostrate antagonist, and proceeded to strike him
violently on the head with a _sabot_; or wooden shoe, without any
interference or disapproval on the part of the persons present. A
_sergent de ville_ having seen the crowd, came up, and required the
victor to cease hammering his foe. He was instantly obeyed, the
vanquished party arose and decamped, and the police-officer walked on
without taking any further notice of the affair. A bystander expressed
his sympathy with the conqueror, by remarking, that after having gone to
the trouble of getting the fellow down, it was a pity that he was not
allowed to punish him.
LIQUOR VEHICLES.
I did not at any time in Paris see two persons in attendance on any
vehicle used in the conveyance of liquor. One man took charge of a long,
narrow dray, on which a number of barrels were placed in two, or perhaps
three, tiers; they were secured by ropes passing from rere to front, and
there tightened by a kind of capstan, with bars and a catch-bolt. There
was also a hinge between the shafts and the body, which allowed the
front to be elevated and the rere to be lowered. One man managed this
machinery, and could deliver the entire or any part of the load with
safety and despatch. The adoption of similar vehicles in the liquor
traffic of our country would be decidedly economical; but additional
labour would be required to lower large casks into underground cellars,
a description of store which is very uncommon in Paris.
NO HODS.
In one of the early productions of my schoolfellow and frequent
playmate, Samuel Lover, he narrates an anecdote of two Dublin hodmen,
one of whom expressed doubts as to the capability of the other to carry
a hod, heavily laden, up a ladder to the roof of a high house. This
produced, on the part of the other, a wager of a gallon of porter, that
he would carry the very man who had taunted him, in a hod, and deliver
him over the parapet, five stories above the street. The bet was made,
and one fellow seated himself in the hod, and was carried by the other
safely to the roof; he then acknowledged that he had lost, but added,
"When you were about five rungs of the ladder from the top, I thought
you were getting a little weak, and that _I had a fine chance of winning
the gallon_." I do not think such a dangerous wager could arise in
Paris, for although very extensive buildings were in progress during my
sojourn, I never saw such an implement as a hod there. All the materials
were hoisted up by ropes, pulleys, and windlasses. Horse labour was very
much used, and small steam-engines were occasionally employed. The lives
and limbs of the Parisian workmen were consequently safe from the risks
incident to a false step or a rotten rung.
A HORSE, A DOG, RATS.
The French occasionally train animals to exhibit amusing tricks and
tendencies; and the surprise of a spectator is not excited so much by
what he sees done, as by the conjectures he forms or hears expressed by
others, as to the means adopted in bringing animals to the observance of
extraordinary habits, or the habitual performance of prescribed duties.
When the Messieurs Pereire were building the magnificent structures
which form the Boulevard Malesherbes, a large black English horse was
employed to raise materials by rope and pulleys. He worked kindly at his
laborious task; but as soon as the bell rang for breakfast, dinner, or
the termination of the day's work, he stopped, and would not resume
until the usual time for feeding or rest had elapsed.
At the corner of the junction of the Rue de Castiglione with the Rue de
Rivoli, a shoeblack plied his humble vocation, and derived great
assistance in obtaining employment from a poodle dog, that had been
trained to run, with paws purposely soiled, across the feet of persons
coming towards his master's bench and brushes. The dog was, perhaps, the
greatest curiosity in the locality, for he never attempted to renew his
trespass on the boots or shoes of those who had spent two sous in having
them polished by his proprietor. I have frequently seen him actively
engaged; but he confined his attentions to the male sex; and I can add,
as a circumstance very creditable to those on whom his avocation was
exercised, that I never saw him kicked or struck. His daily duties were
of a very extraordinary nature; but far more extraordinary must have
been the training by which he was qualified for their performance.
On the Esplanade des Invalides I witnessed a most extraordinary
exhibition. A very aged man appeared, drawing a small four-wheeled
truck. He stopped and rang a handbell for some minutes. When a number of
spectators had collected, he opened a slide on the top of the truck, and
in the most endearing terms invited his pets, his darlings, to come
forth. The darlings came at his call, and consisted of about three dozen
rats, mostly of a white or cream color, with red eyes. They crept up his
legs, crowded on his head and shoulders, nestled inside his vest, and
eagerly fed on some fragments of cheese and some Indian corn, which he
produced from a dirty old bag. He then took a tin box, in the lid of
which there was a hole, sufficient to admit one rat at a time; and
having given the word of command, the "darlings" proceeded to enter. It
seemed too small to contain the entire number; but he insisted on their
entrance, scolded them, and swore vehemently at their tardiness. At
length all had disappeared, and I then perceived that the bottom of the
box was fastened to the upper part by hooks, which the old man drew
back, and raising the box he displayed a compact mass of rats, packed
almost in a square. He gave the word and they separated, and having got
some water, re-entered the truck, and the old fellow sent round the hat
to collect a few coppers from the spectators. I could not refuse a
trifle for an exhibition which I considered very curious, but very
disgusting. I looked with loathing upon the intimacy between the nasty
vermin and their pauper master; and I should have seen, with great
satisfaction, the entire school consigned to the attentions of
half-a-dozen terriers.
FOOTNOTE:
[22] The paper, when coiled upon the receiving roller, is very
electrical, until it becomes perfectly cool. If the hand is held within
five or six inches of it, sparks are elicited, and a lucifer match may
be ignited without bringing it nearer to the "material."