Circumstances enable me to give a reply, which I believe will be found
correct, to the inquiry of "C.B." in p. 382. of your 24th Number,
"Whether Gray's celebrated Latin Ode is actually to be found entered at
the Grande Chartreuse?" The fact is, that the French Revolution--that
whirlwind which swept from the earth all that came within its reach and
seemed elevated enough to offer opposition--spared not the poor monks of
the Chartreuse. A rabble from Grenoble and other places, attacked the
monastery; burnt, plundered, or destroyed their books, papers, and
property, and dispersed the inmates; while the buildings were left
standing, not from motives of respect, but because they would have been
troublesome and laborious to pull down, and were not sufficiently
combustible to burn.
In travelling on the Continent with a friend, during the summer of 1817,
we made a pilgrimage to the Grande Chartreuse, reaching it from the side
of the Echelles. It was an interesting moment; for at that very time the
scattered remains of the society had collected together, and were just
come again to take possession of and reinhabit their old abode. And
being their _jour de spaciment_, the whole society was before us, as
they returned from their little pilgrimage up the mountain, where they
had been visiting St. Bruno's chapel and spring; and it was impossible
not to think with respect of the self-devotion of these men, who, after
having for many years partaken (in a greater or less degree) of the
habits and comforts of a civilised life, had thus voluntarily withdrawn
themselves once more to their stern yet beautiful solitude (truly, as
Gray calls it, a _locus severus_), there to practise the severities of
their order, without, it may be supposed, any possessions or means,
except what they were themselves enabled to throw into a common stock;
for nearly the whole of their property had been seized by the government
during the Revolution, and was still held by it.
Our conversation was almost wholly with two of the fathers (they use the
prefix _Dom_), whose names I forget, and have mislaid my memorandum of
them. One of these had been in England, when driven out; and was there
protected by the Weld family in Dorsetshire, of whom he spoke in terms
of sincere gratitude and respect. The other told us that he was a native
of Chambery, and had done no more than cross the mountains to get home.
On asking him for Gray's Ode, he shook his head, saying, the Revolution
had robbed them of that, and every thing else; but repeated the first
line of it, so that there was no mistake as to the object of my inquiry.
From what occurred afterwards, it appears, however, to be questionable
whether he knew more than the first line; for I was informed that later
English travellers had been attempting, from a laudable desire of
diffusing information, to write out the whole in the present Album of
the Chartreuse, by contributing a line or stanza, as their recollection
served; but that, after all, this pic-nic composition was not exactly
what Gray wrote. Of course, had our friend the Dom known how to supply
the deficiencies, he would have done it.
There is a translation of the Ode by James Hay Beattie, son of the
professor and poet, printed amongst his poems, which is much less known
than its merits deserve. And I would beg to suggest to such of your
readers as may in the course of their travels visit this monastery, that
books (need I say _proper_ ones?) would be a most acceptable present to
the library; also, that there is a regular Album kept, in which those
who, in this age of "talent" and "intelligence," consider themselves
able to write better lines than Gray's, are at liberty to do so if they
please.
A very happy conjecture appeared in the _European Magazine_ some time
between 1804 and 1808, as to the conclusion of the stanzas to Mr.
Beattie. The corner of the paper on which they had been written as torn
off; and Mr. Mason supplies what is deficient in the following manner,
the words added by him being printed in Italics:--
"Enough for me, if to some feeling breast
My lines a secret sympathy _impart_;
And as their pleasing influence _flows confest_,
A sign of soft reflection _heave the heart_." {417}
This, it will be seen, is prosaic enough; but the correspondent of the
_E. Mag._ supposes the lines to have ended differently; and that the
poet, in some peculiar fit of modesty, tore off the name. His version is
this:--
"Enough for me, if to some feeling breast,
My lines a secret sympathy _convey_;
And as their pleasing influence _is imprest_,
A sigh of soft reflection _heave for Gray_."
One word upon another poet, Byron _v_. Tacitus, in p. 390. of your 24th
Number. There can be no doubt that the noble writer had this passage of
Tacitus in his mind, when he committed the couplet in question to paper;
but, in all probability, he considered it so well known as not to need
acknowledgment. Others have alluded to it in the same way. The late Rev.
W. Crowe, B.C.L., of New College, Oxford, and public orator of that
University, in some lines recited by his son at the installation of Lord
Grenville, has the following:--
"And when he bids the din of war to cease,
He calls the silent desolation--peace."
I wonder where Lord Byron stole stanzas 1, 2, 3, 4, of the second canto
of _The Bride of Abydos_; to say nothing of some more splendid passages
in the first and second cantos of _Childe Harold_?