How Scapegrace, losing sight of Premium, was mocked at Vanity Fair.
And as they journeyed, methought the two men had much conversation
together.
"Now, neighbour Scapegrace," said Stagman, "if thou wouldst sell this
scrip of thine to advantage, we must betake ourselves to the great
market at Vanity Fair, where all the fools in the world be gathered
together, and not a few knaves besides. But the fair is a perfect maze,
full of blind alleys, courts, and winding passages, among the which thou
wouldst assuredly lose thy way if thou didst enter them without a
guide; and with such confusion of wares in the shops and windows, that
thou mightst walk about from morning to eventide without finding what
thou wert in search of. I remember me well, that when I first resorted
thither, I more than once went into the wrong shop, and bought many
articles which turned out naught. Therefore must we get Interpreter to
go along with us."
"Who is this same Interpreter?" asked Scapegrace.
"Interpreter," answered Stagman, "is a stockbroker, who knoweth all the
ups and downs of the place, the abodes of sellers and customers, and the
booths where the best bargains are to be had. He hath his living by
directing travellers through the Fair, and showing them where to buy and
sell to good purpose. For a small consideration he will go along with
us, and help us in this business."
But Scapegrace, who had waxed foolhardy, replied--"Not so, friend
Stagman. I fear not I shall find my way easily enough through the Fair,
and bring my hogs to a good market without him, and save my money at the
same time. Already, methinks, I feel the burden at my back lighter. Let
us push on, I beseech thee, to our journey's end."
"Neighbour Scapegrace," said Stagman, "thou art somewhat rash in this
matter, for Interpreter's fee is but a trifle; and I can tell thee, that
if by mischance thou shouldst come to lose thy way in the Fair, thou
mayst chance to be very roughly handled. There is always a scum of
villains there on the outlook to decoy strangers, and, if they will not
consent to be cheated, to flout and mock them with gibes and scurril
jests. 'Twas but the other day they put Truepenny into the STOCKS, and
kept him there till he thought he should never get out again; and he
only did get out by parting with all the ready money he had. I pray
thee, neighbour, take warning, and be advised."
As he spake, behold a third man came towards them from behind, and
shortly overtook them.
"Whither so fast, neighbors?" said he.
"Nay, Mr Littlefaith," said Stagman, "we be all journeying, as I take
it, the same road. We are bound for Vanity Fair; and, from that little
bundle which I see in thy hand, it should seen thou art on the same
errand. Is it not so?"
"It is even so," said Littlefaith. "I would fain turn a penny, like
other men. Men say, in our village of Lovegain, that my neighbours,
Plausible, and Saveall, and Worldly-wiseman, by their dealings at the
fair have made a mint of money; and so would Obstinate, too, for that
matter, if he had not asked too much for his wares, and so lost his
market, and returned as he went. More fool he! I shall take the first
good offer I get, I promise you."
"Well, now," said Scapegrace, joining in their talk, "since Littlefaith
is going along with us to the Fair, surely we can do without
Interpreter. Come, pluck up a good heart, and let us be jogging."
Then Stagman shook his head, and said nothing; but the three continued
to walk on.
After a time said Stagman--"Since thou will not take Interpreter with
thee, there is but one further advice which I can give. Not far from
Vanity Fair dwelleth a certain man, called PREMIUM; but his house is not
easily found, for he liveth next door to Discount, and many strangers,
thinking to find the one, have landed at the door of the other. In
truth, it is said there is a passage between their dwellings, and that
the two play into each others hands; for oftentimes, when Premium see'th
visitors coming, and liketh not their look--for he is a shy man, and
easily frightened--he will disappear of a sudden, and send Discount to
open the door to them, and to say he is gone out, and won't be home for
a fortnight. This man Premium is almost always to be found hankering
about the Fair; and so long as thou canst keep close upon him, thou art
sure to go right. Follow in the direction he goeth: he will guide thee
to a good customer; but having made thy market, bestir thyself, and go
thy way quickly, lest evil overtake thee. But take care thou lose not
sight of the man, for he often vanisheth when least expected; and
shouldst thou fall into the hands of his neighbour, who is ever close
behind him, then wert thou utterly undone."
And about mid-day, as they journeyed, they came in sight of the Fair,
which was of goodly extent, with many lanes and alleys, through which
great crowds were ever moving, and the din and hubbub of their voices,
as they called out the names of their wares, was such, that at first the
pilgrims were mightily confused. Littlefaith spake of turning back, but
being encouraged of Stagman, he took heart again, and went on.
And as they gazed about them, and marvelled at the multitudes that were
wandering up and down the rows, cheapening the wares, "Now are we in
good-luck," cried Stagman; "for yonder, on the outskirts of the market,
if I mistake not, is Mr Premium. Let us step up boldly to him at once
and take his arm--for if we approach him timidly, he will disappear
under one of the booths incontinently."
"But do you think we may venture?" said Littlefaith.
"Yea, verily," said Stagman; so, hurrying up to him, they laid hold of
him gently, but with a firm grasp, and saluted him. He was a portly
person, attired in a gold-coloured suit, and put on a smiling
countenance when the pilgrims laid hold of him; but methought he looked
about him on every side to see whether he could dodge away, and escape.
Finding, however, that they clung to him tightly, he made as if he were
much pleased to meet them, and returning their salutation--
"How now, old friend," said he to Stagman; "what wouldst thou have me to
do?"
"Only to show us through the Fair," said Stagman. "These, my friends,
are new to the place, and they would fain know how to sell their wares
to the best bidder. I pray thee, go with us, for thou knowest all the
outs and ins of this Babel."
So, keeping fast hold of Mr Premium's arm, they entered the Fair; and if
at a distance they were confused with the clamour and din of the crowd,
they were beyond measure astonished when they got into the thick of it.
Here was French row, Dutch row, Belgian row, Irish row, English row, and
Scotch row; the chief crowd, however, was in the English row, which was
so choked up at times with buyers and sellers, that it was not possible
to move along at all. But as most people were glad to make way for
Premium, who was well known there and much respected, the pilgrims got
along the rows better than they thought.
"What will you buy, worthy gentlemen--what will you buy?" exclaimed many
voices as they passed.
"Buy any Pennsylvanians, gents?" said a man in the raiment of a Quaker.
"Heavy stock, heavy stock, Jonathan!" cried another.
"Buy my Mexicans--best Mexicans!" said a third.
"Would not take a present of them gratis," cried a fourth.
"Spanish three's reduced--who'll buy?" said a fifth.
"Reduced to nothing," said a sixth.
"Portuguese deferred annuities?" said a seventh.
"Deferred to the day of judgment," answered an eight.
"Glenmutchkins--guaranteed stock, 5 premium, _ex div._," said a ninth.
"Won't do, Sauley," said a tenth--"won't do at any price."
And so on it went, all the dealers bawling and squabbling together, and
trying to depreciate one another's wares.
But, in the meantime, a certain one came up to Littlefaith in the crowd,
and seeing him in company with Premium, he asked him if he were inclined
to sell his scrip.
Whereupon Littlefaith, turning round, saw that it was his old neighbour,
Plausible, and answering, said, "Of a truth such was my errand hither,
but what with the din and bustle about me, I doubt I shall never pluck
up heart to find a purchaser."
"I fear, neighbour Littlefaith," said Plausible, "thou art in the right,
and let me tell thee that same scrip of thine is little in favour here;
howbeit, for the sake of old acquaintance, I would not have thee return
empty--I will buy thy wares of thee. Thou canst not expect of me much
profit, but here are twenty crowns, which will defray thy travelling
charges--and leave thee a something over beside. Mayhap I may be able
some time or other to find a purchaser. There is the money. Give me the
scrip quickly; for I see a certain friend of mine, Mr By-ends, who
beckoneth to me, and cannot wait."
Then did Littlefaith take the crowns, and give unto Plausible the scrip,
which when he had put into his bosom, he smiled and hastened away. When
Littlefaith came back to Stagman, he told him what he had done.
"Thou faint-hearted fool!" said Stagman, "knowest thou not thy wares
were well worth a hundred crowns, which, I warrant thee, Plausible will
make of them before the market is over. Out upon thee for a crazed
coxcomb! get thee gone, and trouble us no more in this matter."
"Better is a bird in the hand than two in the bush," said Littlefaith;
and so saying, he departed.
But while Stagman was thus gibing Littlefaith for throwing away his
wares, suddenly Scapegrace uttered a cry, and said--
"Mercy on us, what hath become of Mr Premium! I only turned my head for
a moment to look at yonder Prospectus of the Grand Equatorial and
Tropical Junction, and, lo! he slips his arm from mine, and I saw him no
more."
"Oh, woe is me!" cried Stagman; "what I foretold has come to pass, and
now I fear a worse thing will yet befall us."
And, as he spake, behold there drew near a lean and ill-favoured person,
clad in ragged and sad-coloured attire, whose doublet was much out at
the elbows, and who looked ever towards the ground; and no sooner did
Stagman see him drawing nigh, than he threw his scrip on the ground,
and, hurrying through the crowd, he was seen no more. Then I knew that
the man's name was DISCOUNT.
And when the men of the Fair saw that Premium was gone, and that Stagman
had fled as Discount drew nigh, they seized upon Scapegrace, and began
to flout him, at first with fair words and pretences, but at last more
rudely and openly. "So, friend!" cried one, "you will buy nothing of us,
it seems? Mayhap you have something to sell."
"I have in my scrip a few Eldorados, for which I expected a premium,"
answered Scapegrace.
"Don't you wish you may get it?" said the other sympathetically.
"Does your mother," said a third, with a look of sympathy--"your
venerable mother, know that you are abroad at the Fair?"
"Perfectly well," answered Scapegrace; "it was mainly in consequence of
her pecuniary distress that I came hither."
"Distress, indeed!" answered the other; "thou wouldst not have us
believe that she has sold her mangle yet?"
"I said not that she had," replied Scapegrace; "but she would gladly
have parted with it if she could."
"How are you off for soap?" said another in a compassionate tone.
"Very indifferently, friend," answered Scapegrace; "for my lodging has
been but poorly supplied of late, and I think of changing it."
"Lodging, quotha! You shan't lodge here, Mr Ferguson, I promise you."
"My name is not Ferguson," said Scapegrace meekly; "neither have I the
least intention of lodging here."
"What a shocking bad hat!" cried a voice from behind, and in a trice was
Scapegrace's hat knocked over his eyes, and his pockets turned inside
out; but finding nothing therein but scrip, they were enraged, and
falling upon Scapegrace, they kicked, and cuffed, and hustled him up one
row and down another, through this alley and across that court, till at
last, being tired of mocking him, they cast him out of the Fair
altogether, and shut the gate against him.
THE ILIAD OF HOMER--BOOK THE FIRST.
IN ENGLISH HEXAMETERS.
[The author of the version of the Last Book of the _Iliad_, in the
Number for March, has been requested by the editor of this Magazine to
give another specimen; and, as he happens to have the First Book
completed, he is happy to comply.
In case any one unacquainted with the original, and familiar with Homer
only through the brilliant _rifacimento_ of Pope, should complain of the
redundancies and repetitions which he meets here, let the writer remind
him that the attempt is to render the ancient poet, not only in a
measure framed on the basis of his own, but as nearly as possible with a
literal fidelity. Moreover, be it remembered, that the poem was not
composed for readers, but to be sung with the accompaniment of the harp
in festive assemblies of wholly illiterate soldiers; and that, in all
probability, the various speeches introduced were not all chanted by the
main voice; but that brother minstrels from time to time relieved the
master, as he himself describes the Muses at the Olympian banquet, "with
sweet voice singing alternate."
The writer received from Messrs Blackwood, with the proof-sheet of the
following contribution, two books of the _Iliad_, the second and the
seventh, done in English hexameters, "by Launcellot Shadwell, formerly
Fellow of St John's College, Cambridge," with the imprint of Mr
Pickering, London, 1844. This gentleman is probably a son of the
Vice-Chancellor of England, and, if so, has been trained in a good
school of taste as well as scholarship. But whether his hexameters have
been _published_, does not appear: the writer had not heard of them
before; and he begs to thank Mr Shadwell for his polite attention.
LONDON, _April 6th._]
N. N. T.
Sing, O Goddess! the wrath unblest of Peleian Achilleus,
Whence the uncountable woes that were heapt on the host of Achaia;
Whence many valorous spirits of heroes, untimely dissever'd,
Down unto Hades were sent, and themselves to the dogs were a plunder
And all fowls of the air; but the counsel of Zeus was accomplish'd:
Even from the hour when at first were in fierceness of rivalry sunder'd
Atreus' son, the Commander of Men, and the noble Achilleus.
Who of the Godheads committed the twain in the strife of contention?
Leto's offspring and Zeus'; who, in anger against Agamemnon,
Issued the pestilence dire, and the leaguer was swept with destruction;
For that the King had rejected, and spurn'd from the place in dishonour
Chryses, the priest of the God, when he came to the warrior-galleys,
Willing to rescue his daughter with plentiful gifts of redemption,
Bearing the fillet divine in his hands of the Archer Apollo
Twined on the sceptre of gold: and petition'd the host of Achaia,
Foremost of all the Atreidæ, the twain that were chief in dominion:--
"Hear, ye Atreidæ! and hear, ye Achaians, resplendent in armour!
Be it vouchsaf'd unto you of the Gods who inhabit Olympus,
Priamus' city to storm, and return to your dwellings in gladness!
But now yield me my daughter belov'd, and accept of the ransom,
Bearing respect to the offspring of Zeus, Far-darting Apollo."
Then had it voice of approval from all the array of Achaians
Duly to honour the priest and accept fair gifts of redemption;
Only displeas'd in his mind was the King Agamemnon Atreides:
Stern the rejection from him, and ungentle his word at the parting:--
"Let me not see thee again, old man, at the station of galleys,
Lingering wilfully now, nor returning among us hereafter,
Lest neither sceptre of gold nor the wreath of the God may avail thee.
Her will I never surrender, be sure, until age has attain'd her
Far from the land of her birth, in our own habitation of Argos,
Plying the task of her web and attending the couch of her master.
Hence with thee! Stir me no more: the return to thy home were the safer."
So did he speak; and the elder, in terror, obey'd the commandment.
Silent he went on his way, where the sea-waves roar'd on the sand-beach,
Till at a distance remote, when the voice of his strong supplication
Call'd on Apollo the King, that was born of the ringleted Leto:--
"Hear me, Protector divine, both of Chrysa and beautiful Killa,
God of the silvery bow, over Tenedos mightily reigning!
Smintheus! Hear, if my hand ever garnish'd thy glorious temple,
Crowning the horns of the altar with beauty, and burning before thee
Fatness of bulls or of goats: hear now, and fulfill my petition.
Oh, let the Argives atone for my tears by the shafts of thy quiver!"
So did he speak; and Apollo gave ear to the prayer of his servant.
He from the peaks of Olympus descended, his bosom in anger,
Bearing on shoulder the bow and the well-fenc'd girth of his quiver.
Rattled the arrows therein on the back of the Deity wrathful,
Step upon step as he moved; but he came like the darkness of Nightfall.
Then did he seat him apart from the ships, and discharging an arrow,
Fearful afar was the clang of the silvery bow of Apollo.
Mules, at the first, were his aim, and the swiftness of dogs was
arrested;
But on themselves, right soon, with the sure-wing'd darts of destruction
Smote he, and wide on the shore was the flame of continual death-fires.
Nine days' space, on the leaguer the shafts of the Godhead were flying;
Then, on the tenth, were the people convok'd by the noble Achilleus,
Mov'd unto this, in his mind, by the Goddess majestical Hera,
For she was griev'd in her heart at the sight of the dying Achaians.
But when the host were conven'd, thus spake swift-footed Peleides:--
"Wand'ring again is our doom, as it seems to my mind, Agamemnon!
Home to escape as we may, unless death be the issue to welcome,
Since not the battle alone, but the pestilence wastes the Achaians.
Come, without witless delay, let some prophet or priest be consulted,
Yea, or expounder of dreams, (for the dream, too, comes from Kronion,)
Who may interpret the wrath unrelenting of Phoebus Apollo;
Whether for forfeited vow we are plagu'd, or for hecatomb wanting:
If peradventure by savour of lambs or of goats without blemish
Anger divine may be sooth'd, and the pestilence turn'd from the people."
He, having spoke, sat down; and arose Thestorian Calchas,
Prophet supreme among all, in the secrets of augury foremost;
He that to Ilion's borders conducted the ships of Achaia,
Such was the lore of the Seer by the blessing of Phoebus Apollo.
He, with the counsel of wisdom, arose in the midst to address them:--
"Favour'd of Zens!" he began, "thou commandest me, noble Achilleus,
Here to interpret the wrath of the King, Far-darting Apollo.
That will I therefore declare; but vouchsafe me, and swear to confirm it,
Promptness and constancy true in the word and the hand of protection;
For when I utter the cause, unto anger, I know, will be kindled
He that of Argos is lord and obey'd in the host of Achaia.
Heavy the hand of a king when the humble provokes his resentment;
Say that he masters his mood, and the day of offending be scatheless,
Yet shall he nurture the wrath thenceforth, till he perfect the
vengeance,
Deep in his bosom within. Speak thou, if the will be to save me."
This was the answer he had, without pause, from the noble Peleides:--
"Speak with a confident heart whatsoever thy scrutiny reaches;
For by Apollo I swear, by the Son of the Highest Kronion,
None to whom thou shalt discover the truth of prophetical warning,
Calling the Gods to attest--while I live, and mine eyes are undarken'd,
None shall, for that revelation, lay hand of oppression upon thee;
None of the Danäids all that are camp'd by the station of galleys--
Even if thou name Agamemnon, the first of the host in dominion."
Then the unblamable Seer took heart, and bespake the Assembly:--
"Neither for forfeited vow is he wroth, nor for hecatomb wanting;
But for the sake of his priest, who, dishonour'd by King Agamemnon,
Pray'd for his daughter in vain, and the gifts that he brought were
rejected;
Therefore, the Archer Divine has afflicted, and more will afflict us,
Nor shall the weight of his hand be remov'd in the pestilence wasting,
Not till the Dark-eyed Maid is restor'd to the love of her father,
Free, without ransoming price--and a hecatomb holy to Chrysa
Sent for atonement of wrong: peradventure we then may appease him."
He, having spoke, sat down: and anon, in the midst of the princes,
Rose the heroic Atreides, the wide-sway'd lord, Agamemnon:
Troubled in visage he rose, for the heart with the blackness of anger
Swell'd in the breast of the King, and his eyes had the blaze of the
firebrand.
First to the Seer did he turn, and austere was the scowl when he nam'd
him:
"Prophet of evils! to me never word of thy mouth has been grateful;
Gladness it sheds ever more on thy spirit to prophesy mischief.
Never had good its announcement from thee, its accomplishment never!
Here, then, art thou, with thy sanctified lore, in the leaguer
proclaiming
All the afflictions we bear from the anger of Archer Apollo
Only from this to have sprung, that I gave not the damsel Chrysëis
Back for the gifts that were brought:--for I valued her more than the
ransom,
Will'd her to stay in my home, and preferr'd her before Clytemnestra,
Her that I wedded a maid--nor in aught would comparison harm her,
Neither for form nor for face, nor for mind nor the skill of her fingers.
Yet even so am I willing to yield her, if this be the better:
Weal I desire for the people, and not their calamity lengthen'd.
But on the instant make ready a guerdon for me, that of Argives
I be not prizeless alone--methinks that of a truth were unseemly--
All of ye witnessing this, that the prize I obtain'd is to leave me."
Thus to him instantly answer'd the swift-footed noble Peleides:--
"Foremost in fame, Agamemnon, in greediness, too, thou art foremost.
Whence can a prize be assign'd by the generous host of Achaia?
Nowhere known unto us is a treasure of common possessions:
All that we took with a town was distributed right on the capture;
Nor is it seemly for states to resume and collect their allotments.
Render the maid to the God, and expect from the sons of Achaia
Threefold recompense back, yea fourfold, soon as Kronion
Grants us to waste and abolish the well-wall'd city of Troia."
So the Peleides--and thus, in reply, said the King Agamemnon:--
"Good as thou art in the dealings of battle, most noble Achilleus,
Try not the engines of craft; to come over me thus is beyond thee.
This the suggestion forsooth that, thyself being safe with thy booty,
I shall sit down without mine! I am bid to surrender the damsel:
This is the word--and 'tis well, if the generous host of Achaia
Yield me a prize in her stead that is fair and affords me contentment;
But if ye grant me not this, be it known, I will do myself justice--
Seizing what Aias obtain'd, or despoiling the tent of Odysseus;
Yea, peradventure, thine own--whatsoever the rage of the loser.
These, of a surety, are things to be duly consider'd hereafter;
Meantime, down to the deep let a black-hull'd galley be hauser'd,
Oarsmen selected and rang'd, and the hecatomb stow'd for the temple--
Mine be the care to accomplish the freight with the rosy Chrysëis.
Last, be some counsellor-chief for command of the galley appointed--
Whether Idomeneus be it, or Aias, or noble Odysseus,
Yea, or, Peleides, thyself, among terrible warriors foremost!
So shall by thee be achiev'd the appeasing of Archer Apollo."
Dark was the scowl of Achilles the rapid, as thus he made answer:--
"Oh! thou in impudence clothed! O heart, that is ever on lucre!
How can the words of thy mouth stir zeal in a single Achaian
Either to march in thy train, or to stand in the fierceness of onset?
Truly I came not, for one, out of hate for the spearmen of Troia,
Hither to battle with them--neither feud nor offence was between us.
Never Dardanian foray had plunder'd my beeves nor my horses,
Never on Phthia descending, in Thessaly's bountiful borders,
Ravag'd the fruits of the field--since betwixt there was many a barrier,
Shadowy mountains enow, and the roaring expanses of ocean.
Only to gratify thee, Dog-face! and avenge Menelaus,
Mov'd us to war upon Troy; and with thee it is counted for nothing!
Masterful menace instead that by thee my reward shall be ravish'd,
Won with the sweat of my brow, and assign'd by the sons of Achaia!
Truly my share of the booty was never with thine to be measur'd
When the Achaians had sackt any populous town of the Troad:
Only when shock upon shock the turmoil of the battle was raging,
Greater the work of my hands; but whenever we reacht the division
Far did thy portion surpass. Nor has grudging been mine or complaining:
Weary with warring, and pleas'd with a little, I went to my galley.
Homeward to Thessaly, now!--I shall profit, I think, by departing--
Nor if I stay in dishonour, will heaping of plunder oppress thee."
Thus on the instant replied the Commander of Men, Agamemnon:--
"Flee, if to that thou be minded: expect not from me a petition
Here for my service to stop. Beside thee I have some to befriend me
Now and hereafter: in chief, the Olympian's counselling foresight.
Hatefullest ever to me hast thou been of the kings of Achaia;
Nothing delighted thee e'er but contention and battle and bloodshed;
And if thy strength be unmatcht, it is due to the gift of a Godhead.
Hence with thee!--hence to thy home flee thou with thy ships and thy
comrades!
There over Myrmidons lord it; with me there is small estimation
Either of thee or thy wrath; and take this for completing my menace:
Since I am reft of Chrysëis for pleasing of Phoebus Apollo,
Now, in a ship of mine own, and with men of mine own for attendance,
Her will I send; but anon will I go and, within thy pavilion,
Seize on the rosy Brisëis, thy guerdon--instructing thee clearly
How I surpass thee in power, and that others beside may be cautious
Neither to match them with me, or confront with the boldness of equals!"
So did he speak: and the word had a sting; and the heart of Achilleus,
Under the hair of his bosom, in tearing perplexity ponder'd,
Whether unsheathing the sword from his thigh, to disperse interveners,
Clearing the way at a swoop, and to strike at the life of Atreides,
Or to control his resentment and master the fury within him.
But as he struggled with thought and the burning confusion of impulse,
Even as he mov'd in the scabbard his ponderous weapon, Athena
Stood by, darting from heaven: for the white-arm'd Hera had sent her,
She that had eyes on them both with a loving and equal concernment.
Lighting behind him, she graspt at the thick fair curls of Peleides,
Visible only to him, undiscover'd by all that surrounded.
Fear on Achilleus fell, and he turn'd to her, instantly knowing
Pallas Athena, for awful the eyes of the goddess apparent--
And he address'd her, and these were the air-wing'd words that he
utter'd.
"Why hast thou come, O child of the Ægis-bearing Kronion?
Is it to see me contemn'd by the insolent pride of Atreides?
This do I promise beside, and thine eyes shall behold it accomplish'd,
Here where he sits Agamemnon shall pay for his scorn with his
life-blood."
This was the answer to him of the blue-eyed Pallas Athena:--
"Willing to temper thy mood, (if perchance thou be ready to listen,)
Down from the heavens have I come at the call of majestical Hera,
Her who has eyes on you both with a loving and equal concernment.
Therefore from violence cease, nor persist in unsheathing the weapon:
Wound him with words at thy pleasure--in that let it fall as it chances.
Only of this be assur'd, for thyself shall behold it accomplish'd,
Threefold yet shall the King in magnificent gifts of atonement
Pay for the scorn of to-day; but restrain thee and yield to my warning."
Thus, in reply to Athena, said instantly noble Achilleus:--
"Me of a surety beseems it, O Goddess, to bend to thy counsel,
Fierce as mine anger may be; it is wiser to keep the commandment.
They that submit to the Gods shall be heard when they make supplication."
Press'd on the silvery hilt as he spake was the weight of his right
hand,
Back to the scabbard returning the terrible blade; nor obedience
He to Athena refus'd; and she sprang from his side to Olympus,
Up to the mansion of Zeus, to rejoin the assembly of Godheads.
Then did Achilles begin to reproach Agamemnon Atreides,
Hotly with venomous words, for as yet unappeased was his anger:--
"Bloated with wine! having eyes like a dog, but the heart of a she-deer!
Never with harness on back to be first when the people were arming,
Never in dark ambuscado to lie with the few and the fearless,
Courage exalted thy soul; this seems to thee courtship of death-doom.
Truly 'tis better by far in the wide-spread Danäid leaguer
Robbing of guerdon achiev'd whosoe'er contradicts thee in presence!
People-devouring king! O fortunate captain of cowards--
Else, Agamemnon, to-day would have witness'd the last of thine outrage!
But I proclaim it before thee, and great is the oath that shall bind it--
Now by this rod, which can never put forth or a twig or a leaflet,
Since it was parted for aye from the root of its growth in the mountains,
Never to germinate more, in the hour when the brass of the woodman
Sever'd the bark and the sap: but the chiefs that administer judgment,
Guarding the law of the Gods, as a sign to the sons of Achaia
Bear it in hand:--upon this do I swear, and severe is the sanction!
Rue for Achilles hereafter shall rise in the Danäid leaguer:--
Bitter the yearning shall be--nor in thee, howsoever afflicted,
Succour be found at their need--but remorse shall be raging within thee,
Tearing thy heart that by thee was the best of Achaians dishonour'd."
Speaking he dash'd on the ground, in the midst of the people, his
sceptre,
Garnish'd with circles of gold; down sat thereafter Peleides.
Opposite rose Agamemnon in wrath; but before he could open,
Upsprang Nestor between them, the sweet-ton'd spokesman of Pylos:
Sweeter the speech of his tongue in its flow than the sweetness of honey.
Two generations complete of the blood of articulate mankind,
Nurtur'd and rear'd in his view, unto death in their turn had been
gather'd;
Now he was king for a third in the bountiful region of Pylos.
He, with beneficent thoughts, in the midst of them rose and address'd
them:--
"Woe to me! great is the grief that has come on the land of Achaia!
Great of a surety for Priam the joy and the children of Priam!
Ilion holds not a soul in her bounds but will leap into gladness,
Soon as the tidings go forth that ye two are divided in anger,
Foremost in council among us and foremost of all in the battle!
Hear me while yet there is time: ye are both of ye younger than I am.
I in the days that are past have in fellowship mingled with heroes
Mightier even than you, yet among them I never was slighted.
Never their like did I see, nor shall look on their equals hereafter--
Such as Perithöus was, or as Dryas the shepherd of people,
Kaineus, Exadius too--the compeer of the bless'd, Polyphemus;
Ægeus' glorious son, as a God in his countenance, Theseus.
These of a truth were in might the supreme of the children of mankind;
Mightiest they upon earth and with mightiest foes they contended,
Centaurs nurs'd in the hills, whom in terrible ruin they trampled.
These, the allies of my youth, when I first adventur'd from Pylos,
Far from the Apian land, being call'd of themselves for a comrade.
With them I fought as I could--but against them of earth's generation
None is there breathing to-day that could stand in the tempest of battle;
Yet they admitted me near and attended the words of my counsel.
Hear too, ye, and be sway'd; for in yielding to counsel is wisdom.
Neither do thou, though surpassing in station, lay hand on the damsel;
Leave her, as giv'n at the first by the voice of the sons of Achaia.
Nor let thy spirit, Peleides, excite thee to stand in contention,
Scornfully facing the King:--for of all that inherit the sceptre
He is the highest, and Zeus with pre-eminent glory adorns him.
Be it, thy strength is the greater, thy birth from the womb of a Goddess,
Still is his potency more because more are beneath his dominion.
Thou, Agamemnon, give pause to thine anger; myself I entreat thee:
Master the wrath, O King, that divides thee from noble Achilleus,
Ever in murderous war great bulwark for all the Achaians."
These were the answering words of the chief in the host, Agamemnon--
"Verily, elder rever'd, there is grace in whatever thou speakest,
But this man is resolv'd to be first over all and in all things;
All to his dictating word must submit themselves--all to his kingship--
He with his nod to command--which I think will have scanty approval.
Might in his spear if there be by the gift of the Gods everlasting,
Do they uphold him for that in the measureless railing of insult?"
Him, with a sidelong glance, thus answer'd the noble Achilleus:--
"Worthless I well might be call'd, of a surety, and cowardly caitiff,
Yielded I all at a word whensoever it pleas'd thee to dictate.
Such be thy lording with others, but not as to me, Agamemnon!
Waste not thy masterful signs: they shall never command my obedience.
This will I tell thee at once, let my fixt resolution be ponder'd--
Never a hand will I lift to resist for the sake of the damsel,
Neither on thee nor another--ye take what ye formerly granted!
But of whatever besides I possess in the camp of the galleys,
Nothing against my consent shall by thee or another be taken.
Come now--try it thyself, that the test may for all be sufficient,
Seeing how right from thy bosom the black blood streams on my
spear-head."
They, having battled it thus in the striving of proud contradiction,
Rose and disperst the assembly of men at the ships of Achaia.
Then to his tents and the line of his galleys, the noble Peleides
Went with Menoetius' son and the rest of his comrades attending;
While from the beach to the water, a galley surpassing in swiftness
Drew Agamemnon the king, and selected a score for her oarsmen.
Then in the depth of her hull was the hecatomb placed for Apollo,
And he conducted himself to embark with them, rosy Chrysëis;
Lastly, to govern the voyage, ascended sagacious Odysseus;
Then being rang'd in the galley they sail'd on the watery courses.
But the Atreides commanded the people to purification,
And when they all had been cleans'd, and the sea had receiv'd the
pollutions,
Hecatombs whole to Apollo of bulls and of goats without blemish
Bled for the purified host, on the margin of harvestless ocean,
Sending the savour to heaven in the wreaths of the smoke from the altar.
Busied herein was the leaguer--yet not in the King Agamemnon
Enmity ceas'd, nor the pride to fulfil what his anger had menaced.
He to Talthybius now and Eurybates spake his commission,
Heralds of royal command, ever near him in ministry watchful:--
"Pass, ye twain, to the right to the tent of Peleian Achilleus,
Enter and take with your hands, and conduct to me hither Brisëis.
If he refuses to yield her, myself will accomplish the seizure,
Following swiftly with more, which may chance to embitter his grudging."
Loth, they obey'd him; and pass'd by the rim of the harvestless ocean,
On to the Myrmidon tents and the black-hull'd ship of Peleides.
Near to his tent and his galley they found him seated; nor truly,
Viewing the twain as they came, did the sight bring joy to Achilleus.
Fearful were they meanwhile--and, in awe of the kingly Peleides,
Halted in silence, nor spake to salute him, nor utter'd the message,
But in his mind it was clearly discover'd; and thus he address'd them:--
"Hail to ye, heralds! of Zeus and of men the ambassadors holy!
Freely advance; ye are blameless before me; alone Agamemnon
Guilty, that sends ye to me for demand of the damsel Brisëis.
Noble Patroclus, I pray thee bring forth and surrender the damsel
Here to their guidance--but they--let the heralds themselves be my
witness,
Both before Gods ever-blest and the Earth's generation of mortals,
Yea, and the insolent King.--If there ever arises hereafter
Need of my presence to ward the disgrace of impending disaster
Off from the rest--Yea, truly, the insolent raves to his ruin;
Neither the past he recalls, nor has wisdom to judge for the future,
Whence were salvation alone for his host in the war of the seaboard."
So did he speak; and Patroclus, obeying the word of his comrade,
From the pavilion within led forth Brisëis the rosy,
Yielding her up to the twain; and they turn'd again back by the galleys.
Not with her will did the woman attend on their path; but Achilleus
Sat by himself, as the tears roll'd down, and apart from his comrades,
Hard by the surf-white beach, overlooking the blackness of ocean.
There then, lifting his hands, to his mother he urg'd his petition:--
"Since I was born of thee, mother, with fewness of days for my fore-doom,
Surely Olympian Zeus, who is heard in the thunder of Æther,
Owed me in honour to live; but to-day he decrees my abasement.
Open contempt is my portion--for now wide-ruling Atreides
Tramples upon me himself, and has seiz'd and possesses my guerdon."
Thus amid tears did he speak, and the mother majestical heard him,
Sitting afar in the deep by her father the Ancient of Ocean.
Nimbly anon from the foam of the waves like a cloud she ascended,
And she was near to him soon, and she sat by him where he lamented,
Softly caress'd with her hand on his cheek, and address'd him and nam'd
him:--
"Why art thou weeping, my child? what has burthen'd thy soul with
affliction?
Speak to me, nothing conceal, that we both may have knowledge in
fulness."
Heavily groaning, to her thus answer'd the rapid Achilleus:--
"Mother, already thou knowest, and why should it all be recounted?
We in our progress assailing Aëtion's hallowèd city,
Conquer'd and sack'd it, and hither conducted the plunder of Theba.
Then when the sons of Achaia assembled to make the division,
They to Atreides allotted for guerdon the comely Chrysëis.
But to the galleys anon of the brass-clad sons of Achaia,
Journey'd in sorrow her father, the grayhair'd priest of Apollo,
Eager to ransom the maiden, and bearing a bountiful ransom.
Holding the fillet divine in his hands of the Archer Apollo,
Twin'd on the sceptre of gold, he petition'd the host of Achaia--
Foremost of all the Atreidæ, the twain that are chief in dominion.
Then had it audible greeting from all the array of Achaians
Duly to honour the priest and accept fair gifts of redemption;
Only displeased in his mind was the King Agamemnon Atreides--
Stern the rejection from him and ungentle his word of dismissal.
Wrathful the elder departed, and pray'd in his wrath to Apollo;
Nor was the prayer unheard, for the priest was belov'd of the Godhead.
Swiftly the arrow of death was discharg'd on the host of the Argives;
More and yet more did he slay, for the terrible darts of his vengeance
Spared not a spot of the camp; till at last, when the people were
gather'd,
Rose up a seer well skill'd and reveal'd the decree of the Archer.
Foremost was I in exhorting to bend to the God for atonement--
This the offence that enrag'd Agamemnon, who, instantly rising,
Utter'd the menacing word which his insolence now has accomplish'd.
Home at the last unto Chrysa the quick-eyed oarsmen of Argos.
Now are conducting the maiden, with plentiful gifts for Apollo;
But in the selfsame hour have his messengers left my pavilion,
Leading Brisëis away, my award from the host of Achaia.
Therefore I call upon thee, if with thee be the power to assist me,
Up to Olympus to go, and to supplicate Zeus for thine offspring,
If, or by word or by deed, thou hast pleasur'd the heart of the Highest:
And I have heard thee of old, full oft, in the halls of my father,
Boast how of all the immortals thy ministry only avail'd him
Then when the rest of the Gods were combin'd for his humiliation,
Hera herself at the head, with Poseidon and Pallas Athena,
All in conspiracy swearing to fetter the Lord of the Black Cloud;
But thou, Goddess, approaching, wast able to rescue from bondage,
Summoning swiftly to join thee, and leading to lofty Olympus,
Him who is Briareus nam'd among men, by Immortals, Ægeon,
Him of the hundred hands, who surpasses his father[12] in puissance;
And by Kronion he sat in the pride of his glory rejoicing,
Filling with terror the Blest; for they saw and desisted from binding.
Sit by the side of the God, and remind him of this, and entreat him,
Grasping his knees, if perchance it may please him to succour the
Trojans,
Granting them back on the galleys to trample the sons of Achaia,
Scatter'd in dread, till they all have contentment enough of their
Captain--
Yea, till Atreides himself, Agamemnon, the chief in dominion,
Rues the infatuate pride that dishonour'd the best of Achaians."
Sad was the mother at hearing, and thus amid weeping she answer'd:--
"Woe to me! why did I bear thee, my child, in an hour of misfortune?
Would I could see thee nor harm'd by injustice nor yielding to sadness,
Here by the ships, since the days of thy doom are the few and the
fleeting!
Woe to me! both to a death premature and a sorrowful lifetime
Thee, in the darkness of Fate, did I bear in the house of thy father!
Surely thy word will I carry to thunder-delighting Kronion,
Up unto snowy Olympus, and prayer may prevail for persuasion.
Thou meanwhile for a season lie still by the Myrmidon galleys,
Hating the Danäid host, and abstaining entirely from battle.
Yesterday forth-far'd Zeus to a feast with the Æthiops blameless,
Far over ocean's stream, and the rest of the Gods in attendance;
Twelve are the signified days ere again he returns to Olympus.
Instantly then will I pass to the brass-built dome of the Highest,
There will I cling to his knees, and I think he will hear my petition."
So having said she departed, and left him to sit as aforetime,
Bitterness swelling his breast at the thought of the slender Brisëis
Forcefully torn from his side. Meanwhile ever-prudent Odysseus
Safe into Chrysa had come with the hecatomb vow'd to Apollo.
They, when at last they arrived in the spacious recess of the harbour,
Furl'd with alertness their sail, and bestow'd in the depth of the
galley,
Loosen'd the ropes from the mast, and depress'd it to fix in the
mast-hold,
Push'd with their oars to the landing, and anchor'd and fasten'd the
hausers;
Then with the hecatomb laden, the mariners stept on the sea-beach.
Lastly, Chrysëis was led by Odysseus himself from the galley,
Straight to the altar of Phoebus, and placed in the hand of her father.
"Take her, O Chryses," he said; "I am sent by the King Agamemnon,
Charg'd to restore her to thee, with a hecatomb fair for Apollo,
Vow'd on behalf of the host, if perchance it may work our atonement,
Press'd with afflictions severe by the far-shot darts of the Godhead."
So did he speak, and deliver'd the daughter belov'd to her father:
Glad was the old man's heart to receive her. And now the Achaians,
Ranging the hecatomb goodly around the magnificent altar,
Cleansèd with water their hands, and besprinkled the victims with barley.
Lifting his hands in the midst, then Chryses made supplication:--
"Hear me, Protector divine both of Chrysa and beautiful Killa,
God of the silvery bow, over Tenedos mightily reigning--
Hear me, if ever before there was favour to crown my petition.
Greatly to honour thy priest, hast thou humbled the host of Achaia;
Now I beseech thee to hear, and again let my prayer be accepted--
Hence be the pestilence stay'd that is wasting the Danäid leaguer!"
So did he speak in his prayer, nor regardless was Phoebus Apollo;
Also the Danäids pray'd, and again they besprinkled with barley;
Then were the necks turn'd back, and they slaughter'd the victims, and
skinn'd them.
And when the bones of the thighs were extracted, and wrapt in the fatness
Doubled upon them around, and the raw flesh added in fragments,
Over the split wood then did the old man burn them, and black wine
Pour'd, while with five-prong'd forks, at his side, were the youthful
attendants.
But when the bones and the fat they had burn'd, and had tasted the
entrails,
All that remain'd was divided and fix'd on the spits of the striplings,
Roasted with skill at the fire, and in readiness moved from the altar:
Then was the labour complete, and the banquet prepared for the people,
And they were banqueted all, nor had one to complain of his portion.
But when of meat and of drink the desire from them all had departed,
Duly the goblets were mantled with wine by the youths of the temple,
Handed in order to all, and the round of libation accomplish'd.
Then through the livelong day the Achaians, in melody gracious,
Chanted the pæan divine to the glory of Phoebus Apollo,
Hymning the might of the King; and the voice of the harmony pleased him.
Then, when the sun went down, and the darkness around them was gather'd,
All to the haven departed, and slept on the beach by their hausers;
Till as the roseate Eos, the daughter of Morning, ascended,
Back was their voyage ordain'd to the wide-spread host of Achaia.
Fair was the breeze that attended their going from Phoebus Apollo;
Upward they hoisted the mast, and the white sail spread to receive it;
Full on the canvass it smote, and the dark-blue swell of the waters
Echo'd around at their coming, and groan'd to the plunge of the galley,
Onward advancing apace, as it sever'd the path of the billows.
But when the course had been run, and the galley arriv'd at the leaguer,
High on the sands of the beach was it hawl'd, and secur'd with the
staybeams,
And they dispers'd on the shore, and return'd to the tents of their
kinsmen.
Gloomily wrapt in his wrath, still sat by the strand of the galleys
High-born Peleus' son: unappeas'd was the rapid Achilleus.
Neither 'mid chieftains again to the honour-conferring assembly,
Nor to the battle he came; but his heart was consuming in fierceness,
There where he rested aloof, for he yearn'd for the charge and the
war-shout.
But when his wrath had endur'd to the twelfth resurrection of morning,
Back to Olympus return'd over ocean the blessed Immortals,
All the attendance of Zeus: nor had then the command of Peleides
Pass'd from the mind of his mother, but rising anon from the sea-wave,
She, at the dawning of day, to the great heaven went and Olympus.
Far from the rest of the Gods, wide-seeing Kronion was seated,
Lone on the loftiest peak of the manifold-crested Olympus.
Silently Thetis approach'd him and sate by his side; and the Goddess,
Grasping his knees with her left, and caressing his chin with the right
hand,
Earnestly lifted her voice, and petition'd the King Everlasting:--
"Father! if ever of old I was helpful to thee among Godheads,
Either in word or in deed, let the boon that I crave be conceded--
Honour deny not to him whom I bore to mortality fore-doom'd
Earliest far of mankind; for the Sov'reign of men, Agamemnon,
Basely dishonours my son, and has seiz'd and possesses his guerdon.
Lift him to honour thyself, O Zeus, All-wise of Olympus!
Strengthen the hand of the Trojans for victory, till the Achaians
Honour the worth of my son, and exalt him with worshipful increase."
So did she speak: nor to her did the high Cloud-gatherer answer.
Long in his silence he sat; but as first by his knees she had held him,
So did she earnestly cling, and repeated anew her petition:--
"Grant me the pledge of thy word, and confirm with the nod of acceptance,
Else let refusal be spoken, (for fear cannot dwell with the Highest,)--
Give me to know of a truth that with thee I am last of the Godheads."
Vex'd was the spirit of Zeus, as at last he made answer to Thetis:--
"Plagueful indeed is the hour which to strife and contention with Hera
Sees me committed by thee, and her words of reproach are a torment;
Ever, when cause there is none, she upbraids me before the Immortals,
Saying I favour the Trojans, and succour the press of their battle.
Quickly depart from me now, lest thy coming be noted of Hera;
Go, and the care be with me henceforth till it all is accomplish'd.
See now, here will I nod with my head, to complete thy reliance,--
Since in the circle of Gods Everlasting, whenever I yield it,
This is the mightiest sign; for a clear irrepealable purpose
Waits an accomplishment sure, when the nod of my head is the token."
So did he speak, and, at pausing, he sign'd with his shadowy eyebrows,
And the ambrosial curls from the Head Everlasting were shaken,
And at the nod of the King deep-trembled the lofty Olympus.
They from their communing parted; and she, on the instant descending,
Plung'd to the depth of the sea from the height of resplendent Olympus.
Zeus to his mansion return'd; and the company all of the Godheads
Rose at their Father's approach from their seats, nor did any adventure
Sitting his aspect to meet, but they all stood up at his coming.
Thus on his throne did he seat him; but not unobservant had Hera
Been, while in secret he spake with the child of the Ancient of Ocean;
Now with the words of reproach she was ready, and turn'd to Kronion:--
"Crafty and close! what God has been with thee in privacy plotting?
Ever it pleases thee well to be working apart and in darkness,
Willingly never to me has a word of thy counsel been open'd."
Instantly thus by the Father of Gods and of Men was she answer'd:--
"Hera, indulge not the hope to be partner in each of my counsels;
Wife as thou art, there are some it can never be thine to discover.
That which is fit for thine ear of the things I have settled in purpose,
None or of Gods or of Men shall in that be partaker before thee;
But whensoever my will is apart from the Gods to determine,
Cease from a prying unmeet, nor with rash curiosity question."
Haughtily glancing on Zeus, thus answer'd majestical Hera:--
"Oh, ever dark and austere! What a word hast thou utter'd, Kronion!
When was it ever my custom to pry or torment with a question?
Only it now is my fear that the white-footed daughter of Nereus,
Thetis, has led thee astray with the craft of her secret persuasion:
Early she sat by thy side, and was grasping thy knees in entreaty--
Nor did she leave thee, I think, without pledge of revenge for Achilleus,
And of destruction anon and of woe at the Danäid galleys."
Thus to the Goddess again spake Cloud-compelling Kronion:--
"Pestilent! Ever the spy! not a motion is safe from thy peering!
Yet shall it profit thee nothing, unless to estrange and remove me
Further away from thy love, which perchance may have worse for its
upshot.
Now, if it be as thou say'st, thou hast strengthen'd the zeal of my
purpose.
Hear me, and seat thee in silence, nor vain be the word of my warning,
Lest were the Gods of Olympus united, it nothing avail thee,
Shrinking before my approach, and the hand irresistible lifted."
So did he speak, and in fear was the heart of majestical Hera;
Silent before him she sat amid bitterness curbing her spirit.
Griev'd in the mansion of Zeus thereat were the heavenly Godheads;
Then in the midst of them all the artificer famous, Hephæstus,
Spake with a kindly intent toward white-armed Hera, his mother:--
"Plagueful to me is the sight, and already it passes endurance!
Sure it is folly that thus ye should strive and contend about mortals
Till there is tumult in heaven, nor the least satisfaction awaits us,
Banqueting wholly forgot, and the pestilent rivalry upmost!
This my advice to my mother, and wise though she be, let her hear it.
Kindly approaching his throne, let her promise our Father obedience,
Never to vex him again, and disturb the enjoyment of meal-time.
If the Olympian Lord of the Thunder be minded against us,
Down from our seats go we, for in might he surpasses us wholly.
Come, if with softness of speech thou remove the Olympian's anger,
Grace is at hand for us all, and returning benignity cheers us."
So said Hephæstus, and sprang from his place, and a plentiful goblet
Reach'd to the hand of his mother, and thus, as she took it, address'd
her:--
"Patience! my mother! whatever the smart, be it borne with submission.
Dear as thou art to my soul, let it never be mine to behold thee
Under his chastising hand, for, however my will might incline me,
Service were none--the Olympian's grasp is not easy to strive with.
Once on a time my resistance avail'd not, when seizing me tightly,
Here by the foot, I was hurl'd sheer down from the heavenly threshold!
Down through the livelong day was I borne from the dawn to the sunset,
Till upon Lemnos I fell, and but little of breath was remaining,
When of the Sintian men I was kindly received at my falling."
So did he speak, and with smiles was he heard by majestical Hera,
And from the hand of her son with a smile she accepted the goblet;
Then to the rest of the Gods, from the right of the circle beginning,
Pass'd he the cup, ever pouring the nectar divine from the pitcher:
But in the Gods ever-blest there was stirr'd an unquenchable laughter,
Seeing Hephæstus advance in his ministry round the assembly.
Thus through the livelong day till the sun into ocean descended,
Feasted the Gods, nor to any was wanting his share of the banquet,
Nor of the beautiful harp that was touch'd by the hand of Apollo,
Nor of the song of the Muses with sweet voice singing alternate.
But when the glorious light of the sun had gone down into darkness,
All to their dwellings departed, desiring the softness of slumber--
Each to the separate dome, in the skill of his prudent contrivance
Rear'd by the halting Hephæstus, artificer fam'd of the Godheads.
Zeus, the Olympian Lord of the Thunder, also retiring,
Pass'd to the couch where of old to the sweetness of sleep he resign'd
him;
This he ascended and slept: and beside him was Hera the Gold-throned.
N. N. T.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] Poseidon=Neptune.
PROSPECTUS.
It is proposed to establish a new Society or Association, under the
style and title of the "Fogie Club."
To the myriads of railway adventures that of late years have on every
side invited the lovers of gain or of gambling, and that now seem
abandoned with the same desperate eagerness with which they were
embraced, the Fogie Club will form a remarkable contrast. But it has
recommendations of its own, which may compensate for others of which it
cannot boast. It does not seek to promote rapid locomotion; but it
presents a terminus of quiet and creditable rest. It does not promise
dividends; but it does not contemplate calls. The stock is not expected
to rise; but neither is it likely to fall. A solvent and sagacious
public will judge on which side the advantage lies.
The meaning of the term "Fogie" is rather to be furnished by description
than by definition. But we may bestow a few words on the
lexico-graphical learning connected with the word.
Dr Jamieson, an authority every way entitled to attention on such a
subject, gives a double signification of Fogie:--"1. A term used to
denote an invalid or garrison soldier. 2. A man pithless and infirm from
advanced age." He derives it, with his usual accuracy and acuteness,
from the Suio-Gothic, in which the word "fogde," he tells us, meant
"formerly one who had the charge of a garrison, but is now much declined
in its meaning, as being applied to stewards, beadles," &c. The worthy
doctor seems unconscious of the aid he might have derived from the fact,
that the foreign term Fogde, or Vogt, is a corruption of the Latin
_advocatus_; but he struggles with a laudable and natural feeling to
maintain the dignity of the Fogie, as originally indicating among
ourselves some important officer, such as the governor of a garrison,
and we trust that further research may bring to light some confirmation
of that conjecture. Indeed it may be observed, that there are instances
among us where Fogies are in use to be termed Governors. But we are
bound to say, that there are other linguists who refer the word to a
less elevated source--some connecting it with the term _fog_ or foggage,
meaning a second grass or aftermath, not quite so rich or nourishing as
the first growth; others, pointing at a kind of inferior bee, which
receives the name of _Foggie_ from its finding its nest among fog or
moss; and others uncivilly insinuating that the Latin _fucus_, a drone,
is the origin of the appellation.
While we protest against a supposed acquiescence in these more
derogatory etymologies, we feel that it would be improper and premature
at this stage to attempt the solution of so important a question as that
at which we have thus glanced, and of which the elaborate discussion may
form one of the earliest subjects for a prize essay to be proposed by
the Club, and will doubtless fill many a learned page of the Fogie
Transactions.
The character of the Fogie admits of less doubt than his etymology. It
belongs confessedly to one of the most amiable and interesting classes
of the species. It sets before us an individual, possessed at one time
at least of respectable talents, generally developed at an early period
of life, but of which the meridian splendour has now softened into the
more tolerable radiance of declining day. The light is nearly alike, but
the heat is considerably less. We still, perhaps, see in the Fogie the
same imposing features of the face, the same dignity of gesture and
attitude, and even a larger disc of body than before. The very voice
often is much what it was, and the manner is almost unchanged. But when
we carefully attend to the matter of what is said, we begin to perceive
a difference. A certain pleasing irrelevancy, an interesting tendency to
parenthesis, a longing, lingering look cast back on the events of former
times, in preference to the passing topics of the day, and a pardonable
increase in the use of the first person singular, become from time to
time progressively conspicuous. Nothing can be more instructive,
abstractly speaking, then the maxims which fall from the Fogie's lips;
but, somehow or other, they often appear as having less immediate
bearing on the matter in hand than we should have expected; and we
labour under occasional impressions of having met with some of them
before, either in Scripture, or in that valuable code of morality which
the writing-master proposes to youth as the pattern of their imitation.
"I have sometimes observed," he will say, "that vicious intercourse has
a tendency to undermine good morals;" and he illustrates his position by
the fate of an early friend, who went to the dogs from keeping bad
company. Or again, "It may be safely affirmed," he observes, "that a
conciliatory reply will frequently allay irritation in an angry
assailant;" and he entertains us with a really good story of a choleric
old gentleman who challenged him once for poaching on his grounds, but
who was gradually talked over till he asked him to dinner. If our friend
has been a wit in his youth, the propensity to jocularity still
survives; but the jests are generally such as you meet with in the very
earliest editions of Mr Joseph Miller, though, for the sake of variety,
they are often ascribed to the late facetious Mr Joseph Jekyll, or Mr
Henry Erskine, or to some other of the Fogie's early contemporaries, if
indeed the Fogie himself is not the hero of the tale.
It is unnecessary to say that the Fogie is always an amiable and almost
always a happy person. "Happiness," says the judicious Paley, "is found
with the purring cat no less than with the playful kitten; in the
arm-chair of dozing age, as well as in either the sprightliness of the
dance, or the animation of the chase." The Fogie is generally attached
in moderation to the pleasures of the table, and is a Conservative and
Protectionist in his politics; though, since the introduction of Sir
Robert Peel's last measure, several of the class have been rubbing up
their Adam Smith, and quoting some of the enlightened maxims of
free-trade which they used to hear at the Speculative Society, or in
some other arena of juvenile discussion.
It is a proud thing to remember that the delineation of the Fogie has
employed the genius of the greatest poets. The character of Nestor in
the _Iliad_ must be regarded as one of the masterpieces of the Homeric
gallery. The eloquent drivel that distils from his tongue, the length
and general inapplicability of his narratives, the judicious and
imposing triteness of his counsels, the vigorous imbecility of his
exhortations--all reveal the heroic Fogie in proportions suitable to the
other colossal figures with which he is surrounded. In Polonius, again,
Shakspeare has given us a different form of the species, equally perfect
in its kind. The tenderness of the old man's heart, the sagacity of his
discoveries, the self-pleasing estimate of his own importance, and the
sounding vacuity of his moral maxims, afford a model by which, in all
time coming, the courtly or paternal Fogie may regulate his life and
conversation, though, we trust, he may generally meet with a happier
termination to his career than that of the luckless father of Ophelia.
Another great master, pursuing a course of his own, has made a more
ambitious attempt to elevate the Fogie's poetical position, and has been
eminently successful. We allude to the immortal Virgil, whose hero, the
pious Æneas, may be considered as a perfect Fogie, developed with a rare
precocity of power, so as to afford an illustration of the important
truth, that, though Fogyism generally waits for old age, its maturity is
not servilely dependent upon the progress of years, but in some
fortunate natures--_pauci quos æquus amavit Jupiter_--may be brought to
perfection at almost any period of life.
But, after all that has been done, there is something yet to do. The
_Fogiad_ is still to be written; and we trust soon to see it
successfully accomplished by a member of the Club.
The science of self-knowledge is one of those acquirements which the
Fogie, like the rest of mankind, loudly commends, but rarely possesses
or practises. A few of the tribe, from habits of philosophical analysis,
are partially cognizant of their intellectual condition, and will
frankly come forward and enrol themselves in the Club. A good many
others, aware that they are suspected of an approach to Fogyism, will
think to disarm the suspicion by a pretended show of candour in joining
our ranks, hoping, no doubt, to be rejected as not yet qualified. But we
must intimate to such parties that their stratagem will be unsuccessful,
and that they will be written down Fogies as requested, and duly found
guilty, in terms of their own confession. The greater number of Fogies,
however, with that modesty which often attends merit, are wholly
unconscious of their real proficiency in this great mystery, and are not
likely to give us their countenance of their own accord. This
consideration will lead to a peculiarity in the constitution of the
Club, which is intended to embrace not only the Fogies who apply for
admission, but all of any note who possess the qualification, whether
they apply or not. Correspondents will be established in every
considerable town, and travellers on every important circuit, who will
not fail to report to us the earliest appearance of confirmed Fogyism in
every district. Many, indeed, of those who, in reading this article, are
chuckling at the reflection it may be supposed to throw upon their
neighbours, are already down in our list. Our Society, in this way, will
be composed of two compartments--a Voluntary and an Involuntary; or, if
we may be allowed the expression, a Visible and an Invisible club--the
one embracing avowed Fogies, who boldly claim the privileges of their
order, and the other the whole body of unconscious Fogyism throughout
the world. Every where it may be held certain, that to be a reputed
member of the Club, on whatever footing, will be a sure passport to
respect and reverence.
Persons of diffident temperaments, who are doubtful of their
qualifications, or disturbed in their minds as to their intellectual
state, are encouraged to submit their case to consideration, and will be
enabled to meet with the chaplain of the Club, who will administer to
them such ghostly counsel as circumstances may require. In no instance,
it may be mentioned, will any applicant be rejected; as, in the worst
event, his claims will merely be superseded till a future day.
It may be satisfactory to learn that the promoters of the Club are in
treaty for purchasing the advowson of the perpetual curacy of Humdrum
_cum_ Haverill, to which the chaplain will _ex officio_ be presented.
Candidates for the appointment are invited to apply early, as the
clerical portion of the Club list is rapidly filling up, and the
chaplainship can only be held by a member.
It is proposed, as soon as possible, to establish in the metropolis a
spacious edifice for the reception of Fogies, conducted on the principle
of the British and Foreign Institute, or of such other of the clubs as
may be preferred.
Hobbyhorses will be dispersed throughout the various parts of this
building, suitable to the several tastes and equestrian habits of
individual Fogies. Fogies in a more advanced stage of development, will
find provided for them the playthings, pinafores, and other
paraphernalia of their first childhood. In a special apartment, to be
called the "Nursery," the cradle (or crib) of reposing age will be
rocked successfully by skilful nurses or experienced Fogies, instructed
on the Mainzerian system in the most soporific lullabies.
On a future occasion, a list of the Provisional Committee will be
published. It may be mentioned, that the offices of Preses and
Vice-Preses are not at present to be filled up, as it is expected that
they will eventually be conferred on His Grace the Duke of Wellington
and Christopher North, Esq., though we regret to say that our latest
accounts give us no assurance that these distinguished persons are
likely very soon to join us.
Further particulars may be learned by application to Messrs Grandam and
Garrulous, Cripplegate, or any other sharebrokers in London or the
provinces; to whom also communications (prepaid) may be sent of the
names and private history of illustrious Fogies, with likenesses of
their persons, or any other information calculated to promote the
interests of the Club.
TRUTH AND BEAUTY.
Beauty and Truth, in Heaven's congenial clime,
Inseparate seen beside the Almighty throne,
Together sprung, before the birth of time,
From God's own glory, while he dwelt alone;--
These, when creation made its wonders known,
Were sent to mortals, that their mingling powers
Might lead and lure us to ethereal bowers.
But our perverse condition here below
Oft sees them severed, or in conflict met:
Oh, sad divorce! the well-spring of our woe,
When Truth and Beauty thus their bond forget,
And Heaven's high law is at defiance set!
'Tis this that Good of half its force disarms,
And gives to Evil all its direst charms.
See Truth with harsh Austerity allied,
Or clad in cynic garb of sordid hue:
See him with Tyranny's fell tools supplied,
The rack, the fagot, or the torturing screw,
Or girt with Bigotry's besotted crew:
What wonder, thus beheld, his looks should move
Our scorn or hatred, rather than our love?
See Beauty, too, in league with Vice and Shame,
And lending all her light to gild a lie;
Crowning with laureate-wreaths an impious name,
Or lulling us with Siren minstrelsy
To false repose when peril most is nigh;
Decking things vile or vain with colours rare,
Till what is false and foul seems good and fair.
Hence are our hearts bewilder'd in their choice,
And hence our feet from Virtue led astray:
Truth calls imperious with repulsive voice
To follow on a steep and rugged way;
While Beauty beckons us along a gay
And flowery path, that leads, with treacherous slope,
To gulfs remote from happiness or hope.
Who will bring back the world's unblemish'd youth
When these two wander'd ever hand in hand;
When Truth was Beauty, Beauty too was Truth,
So link'd together with unbroken band,
That they were one; and Man, at their command,
Tasted of sweets that never knew alloy,
And trod the path of Duty and of Joy?
Chiefly the Poet's power may work the change:
His heavenly gift, impell'd by holy zeal,
O'er Truth's exhaustless stores may brightly range,
And all their native loveliness reveal;
Nor e'er, except where Truth has set his seal,
Suffer one gleam of Beauty's grace to shine,
But in resistless force their lights combine.
THE CAMPAIGN OF THE SUTLEJ.
Of the whole wonderful annals of our Indian Empire, the campaign of the
Sutlej will form the most extraordinary, the most brilliant, the most
complete, and yet the briefest chapter. It is an imperishable trophy,
not less to the magnanimity of British policy, than to the
resistlessness of British valour. The matchless gallantry, felicity, and
rapidity of the military operations against a formidable foe of
desperate bravery and overpowering numbers, through a tremendous
struggle and terrific carnage--the blaze of four mighty and decisive
victories won in six weeks--proudly seal our prowess in arms. The
spotless justice of the cause; the admirable temper of its management;
the almost fastidious forbearance which unsheathed the sword only under
the stern compulsion of most wanton aggression; and the generous
moderation which has swayed the flush of triumph--nobly attest our
wisdom in government. The character of a glorious warrior may fitly
express the character of a glorious war, which has been _sans peur et
sans reproche_. To record in our pages memorable deeds which have added
lustre even to the dazzling renown of Britain, would be at any time, but
at present, we conceive, is peculiarly, a duty. The cordiality of the
public interest in these important events dwindles and shrinks, like
paper in the fire, before the intensity of that more domestic sympathy
which has been every where awakened by individual calamities. The
frightful cost at which we have purchased success, may be heard and seen
in the wail and the gloom round a multitude of hearths. No dauntless
courage was more conspicuous,--alas! no gallant life-blood was poured
out more copiously,--than that of the sons of Scotland. The eternal
sunshine of glory which irradiates the memory of the fallen brave, may
be yet too fierce a light for the aching eye of grief to read by; but we
thought that a simple consecutive recital of the recent exploits of our
army in India would be unwelcome to none. Designedly we mean to write
nothing more than a narrative; and, in doing so, to use, as far as it is
possible, the very words of the official reports of those distinguished
men, who leave us sometimes in doubt whether the pen or the sword is the
more potent weapon in their hands. A few reflections and remarks will
probably inweave themselves with the tissue of the story, just because
such things cannot be told or heard without a quickening of the pulse, a
glow upon the cheek, a beating in the heart. Otherwise we shall attempt
to be "such an honest chronicler as Griffith." It is indispensable,
however, not only to preface the details of the campaign with a concise
description of the condition of the disordered and degraded people whom
our enmity and vengeance smote so heavily; but likewise to explain, with
some degree of minuteness, the views and purposes which, from first to
last, influenced our Indian government in its conduct of these delicate,
and ultimately momentous transactions, in order fully to appreciate the
union of moderation and energy which, under the auspices of Sir Henry
Hardinge as governor-general of India, and Sir Hugh Gough as commander o
the army of the Sutlej, has satisfied the world that right and might
were equally on the side of Britain.
Since the death, in 1839, of the famous Runjeet Singh, when the sacred
waters of the Ganges received the ashes of the greatest of the Sikhs, it
is impossible for language to exaggerate the anarchy, the depravity, the
misery of the Punjaub. Tigers, and wolves, and apes, have been the
successors of the "Old Lion." The predominant spirit of that energetic
and sagacious ruler bridled the licentious turbulence which for the last
seven years has rioted in the unrestrained indulgence of all abominable
vices, and in the daily perpetration of the most atrocious crimes. Five
Maharajahs in this brief period, "all murdered," have been sacrificed to
the ambition of profligate courtiers, or the rapacity of a debauched
soldiery. Kurruck Singh, the son of Runjeet Singh, and the inheritor
of an overflowing treasury and a disciplined and numerous army, was an
uneducated idiot, and easily induced to frown upon his father's able
favourite, the Rajah Dhyan Singh, and to invest his own confidential
adviser, the Sirdar Cheyk Singh, with the authority, if not the title,
of his prime-minister. But the humiliated Rajah found the ready means of
revenge in the family of his incapable sovereign. The Prince Noo Nehal
Singh lent a willing ear to the tempting suggestions of a counsellor who
only echoed the inordinate desires of his own ambition. At midnight, in
the private apartment and at the feet of the Maharajah, the Sirdar Cheyk
Singh was assassinated by his rival. The murder of the favourite was
rapidly followed by the deposition of Kurruck Singh, and the elevation
to the throne of the prince, his son. The court of Lahore was now
convulsed by dark intrigues, and debased by brutal sensuality. The
ineradicable spirit of hatred against every thing British, vented itself
harmlessly in the bravadoes of the tyrant; but was more dangerously
inflamed among many of the native powers of India, by the secret
diffusion of a project for a general and simultaneous insurrection. A
double mystery of villany saved us, probably, at that time from the
shocks and horrors of war in which we have been recently involved. The
deposed Kurruck Singh suddenly expired--a victim, it was whispered, to
the insidious efficacy of slow and deadly poison, intermingled, as his
son knew, in small quantities every day with his food. The
lightning-flash of retribution descended. On the return from the funeral
of Kurruck, the elephant which bore the parricidal majesty of Noo Nehal
Singh pushed against the brick-work of the palace-gates, when the whole
fabric fell with a crash, and so dreadfully fractured the skull of the
Maharajah that he never spoke afterwards, and died in a few hours.
The power or the policy of Dhyan Singh then bestowed the perilous gift
of this bloody sceptre upon Prince Shere, a reputed son of Runjeet,
Singh. His legitimacy was immediately denounced, and his government
opposed by the mother of his predecessor, who actively assumed, and for
three or four months conducted, the regency of the state. The capricious
attachment of the army, however, to the cause of Shere Singh turned the
current of fortune; and the Queen-Mother might seem to have laid aside
the incumbrance of her royal apparel, to be more easily strangled by her
own slave girls. The accession of Shere Singh opened the floodgates of
irretrievable disorder; for the troops, to whom he owed his success, and
on whose venal steadiness the stability of his sway depended, conscious
from their position, that, however insolently exorbitant in their
demands, they were able to throw the weight of their swords into the
scale, clamoured for an increase of their pay, and the dismissal of all
the officers who were obnoxious to them. The refusal of their imperious
request had a result we are fortunately not obliged to depict; nor,
without a shudder, can we barely allude to it. The ruffian and
remorseless violence of lawless banditti occupied and ravaged the city
and the plain. The story of their plunder of Lahore is rendered hideous
by every outrage that humanity can suffer, and by a promiscuous carnage,
for which the ferocity of unreasoning animals might pant, but which the
untiring fury of the wildest of brutes, the human savage, alone could
protract beyond satiety. The finger of their murderous rage pointed to
every assailable European officer, of whom some were assassinated, some
very narrowly escaped. Months rolled on under the terrible dominion of
these uncontrollable miscreants, while the length and the breadth of the
land were scourged by their cruelty, polluted by their lust, and
desolated by their rapine. The pestilence was partially arrested by a
glut of gold. A treasure of many lacs of rupees being intercepted on its
way to Lahore, enriched and mollified its captors. But at last, gorged
with slaughter, and surfeited with excess, they modified their claims
within limits to which the government intimated its willingness to
accede. The incurable evil was consummated. Henceforward the army has
been its own master, and the master of the government and the country.
A transitory _mirage_ of internal tranquillity and subordination
refreshed the Punjaub; the fiery elements of discord and ruin smouldered
unextinguishably behind it, awaiting the necessity or the opportunity of
a fresh eruption. The volcano was not permitted to slumber. Shere Singh,
liberated from the imminent oppression of the soldiery, plunged headlong
into a slough of detestable debauchery. But in our annals his memory
must survive,
"Link'd with one virtue and a thousand crimes."