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Which seeme to labour under their fruites lode : are met by “the Genius of the Wood." We will close
SECOND AND THIRD WEEK IN JUNE
GENERAL BEAUTIES OF THE MONTH.--SHELP.
There are some things in the following extract which which he was the cunningest builder in all Fairy-Land.
horn is a little fine and particular; not remote enough ought to have been quoted earlier in the month; but The presort one belongs to Venus and Adonis. or audible. But the young poet was writing to please
amidst the exuberance of the creation one may be al. Right in the middest of that Paradise young patricians. The “tassel" was for their nobility ;
lowed sometimes to forget one's-self; and there are Then od a stately mount, on whose round top
rest is for his own.
so many beautiful things belonging to every part and A gloomy grove of mirtle trees did rise',
parcel of a season, that to dwell upon any one of them Whose shady boughes sharp steele did never lop,
Stay, gentle swains; for though in this disguise,
sometimes excludes twenty others which ought to be Nor wicked beastes their tender buds did crop,
I see bright honour sparkle through your eyes;
noticed in the same paper. It is not our fault; it is And from their fruitfull sydes sweet gum did drop,
Of that renowned flood, so often sung,
Nature's, for being so rich and lovely. That all the ground, with pretious deaw bedight, Divine Alphéus, who by secret sluce
But let us hear Mr. Howitt, talking in the thick of Threw forth most dainty odours and most sweet delight.
Stole under seas to meet his Arethuse ;
the grass. We have never had the pleasure of seeing
And ye; the breathing roses of the wood, And in the thickest covert of that shade
Fair silver-buskined nymphs, as great and good;
this gentleman; but, assuredly, we are here in his There was a pleasant arber, not by art
I know, this quest of yours, and free intent,
company, listening to his voice as he reclines upon But of the trees own inclination made,
Was all in honour and devotion meant
some shady slope not far from Sherwood Forest; and Which knitting their rancke braunches part to part,
To the great mistress of yon princely shrine, With wanton yvie-twine entrayled athwart,
Whom with low reverence I adore as mine ;
as he pauses, a bee occasionally comes humming among And eglantine and caprifole emong,
And, with all helpful service, will comply
us, as though to express its fervid approbation. His Fashion d above within their inmost part,
To further this night's glad solemnity;
talk of gardens, of fields, and of trees, is all admirable: That neither Phæbus beams could through them
And lead ye, where ye may more near behold
we object only to his angling, against which we have throng,
What shallow-searching fame hath left untold ; Nor Aeolus sharp blast could worke them any wrong. Which I full oft, amidst these shades alone,
been moved into an expostulation or two in a note.
The general character of June, in the happiest sea-
sons, is fine, clear, and glowing, without reaching the Here Venus was wont to enjoy the company of Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower,
intense heats of July. Its commencement is the only Adonis; Adonis, says Upton, being matter and Venus To nurse the saplings tall, and cur] the grove
period of the year in which we could possibly forget form. Ovid would have said, he did not know how
With ringlets quaint, and wanton windings wove.
that we are in a world of perpetual change and decay. And all my plants I save from nightly ill
The earth is covered with flowers, and the air is satuthat inight be; but that the allegory “was genial.”
Of noisome winds, and blasting vapours chill;
rated with their odours. It is true that many have The poets are a kind of Eclectic Philosophers, who
And from the boughs brush off the evil dew,
vanished from our path, but they have slid away so pick out of theories whatever is suitable to the truth of And hcal the harms of thwarting thunder blue,
quietly, and their places have been occupied by so natural feeling and the candour of experience; and
Or what the cross dire-looking planet smites,
many fragant and beautiful successors, that we have Or hurtful worm with canker'd venom bites.
scarcely been sensible of their departure. Everything thus, with due allowances for what is taught them,
When evening gray doth rise, I fetch my round
is full of life, greenness, and vigour. Families of young may be looked upon as among the truest as well as Over the mount and all this hallow'd ground;
birds are abroad, and giving their parents a busy life 'most universal of philosophers. The most opinionate And early, ere the odorous breath of morn
of it, till they can peck for themselves. Rooks have of them, Milton for one, are continually surrendering the
Awakes the slumbering leaves, or tassel'd horn
deserted their rookery, and are feeding their vociferous Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about,
young in every pasture and under every green tree. notions induced upon them by their age or country to
Number my ranks, and visit every sprout
The swallow and swift are careering in the clear skies, the cause of their greater mother country, the universe; With puissant words, and murmurs made to bless.
and like beings deeply sympathizing with man, but impa- But else in deep of night, when drowsiness
Ten thousand insects in the air abound
Flitting on glancing wings that yield a summer-sound.
Witfen. generation. It is doubtful, considering the whole context
That sit upon the nine infolded spheres,
The flower-garden is in the height of its splendorr. of Milton's life, and taking away the excitements of And sing to those that hold the vital shears,
Roses of almost innumerable species,-I have counted personal feclings, whether he was a jot more in earnest
And turn the adamantine spindle round,
no less than fourteen in a cottage garden,-lillies, jas
On which the fate of gods and men is wound. mins, speedwells, rockets, stocks, lupines, geraniums, when playing the polemic, than in giving himself up to
Such sweet compulsion doth in musick lie,
pinks, poppies, valerians red and blue, mignionette, the dreams of Plato: whether he felt more, or so
To lull the daughters of Necessity.
&c., and the glowing rhododendron abound. much, in common with Raphael and Michael, as with
It is the very carnival of Nature, and she is prodigal the Genius of the groves of Harefield, listening at night. This is a passage to read at twilight; or before of her luxuries. It is luxury to walk abroad, indulging
every sense with sweetness, loveliness, and harmony. time to the music of the spheres. In one of his prose putting out the cardles, in some old country house. works (we quote from memory) he complains of being
There is yet ene mere passage which we must quote is still and basking at noon ; and to see the landscape
It is luxury to stand beneath the forest-side, when all from Milton about a Genius. forced into public brawls and “hoarse seas of dispute;"
It concerns also a very suddenly dark; the black and tumultuous clouds to and asks what but a sense of duty could have enabled
dæmoniacal circumstance, the cessation of the Heathen assemble as at a signal; to hear the awful thunder him thus to have been "put off from beholding the Oracles. See with what regret the poet breaks up the
crash upon the listening ear; and then, to mark the bright countenance of Truth in the quiet and still air haunt of his winged beauties, and sends them floating glorious bow rise on the lurid rear of the tempest, the
sun laugh jocundly, and of delightful studies.” This truth was truth universal ; away into dissolution with their white bodies out of
Every bathed leaf and blossom fair the woods.
Pour out its soul to the delicious air. this air, the same that haunted the room of Plato, and came breathing from Elysium. No man had a greater The oracles are dumb,
It is luxury to haunt the gardens of old-fashioned taste than he for the “religio loci,”-the genius of a No voice or hideous hum,
houses in the morning, when the bees are flitting forth particular spot. The Genius of a Wood in particular
Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving with a rejoicing hum; or at eve, when the honey-
suckle and the sweet-briar mingle their spirit with the was a special friend of his, as indeed he has been of all
Can no more divine,
breeze, It is luxury to plunge into the cool river; poets. The following passage has been often quoted; With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. and, if ever we are tempted to turn angler, it must be but we must not on that account pass it by.
To steal away into a quiet valley by a winding beauties may be found in it every time. A passage in
Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetick cell. stream, buried, completely buried, in fresh grass; the
foam-like flowers of the meadow-sweet, the crimson a wood has been often trod, but we tread it again. The The lonely mountains o'er,
loose-strife, and the large blue geranium nodding be
And the resounding shore, pleasure is ever young, though the path is old. Som
side us; the dragon-fly, the ephemera, and the kingA voice of weeping heard and loud lament;
fisher glancing to and fro; the trees above casting When the sun begins to fling
From haunted spring and dale,
their flickering shadows on the stream; and one of our Hlis Qaring beams, me, Goddess, bring
Edg'd with poplar pale,
ten thousand volumes of our delightful literature in To arched walks of twilight groves,
The parting Genius is with sighing sent :
our pockets,-then indeed might one be a most patient And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves,
With flower-inwoven tresses torn
angler though not taking a single fish.f. What luxuriOf pine or monumental oak,
The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets
ous images would there float through the mind! Gray Where the rude axe with heaved stroke,
could form no idea of heaven superior to lying on a Was never heard the nymphs to daunt,
In consecrated earth,
sofa and reading novels; but it is in ne flowery lap of Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
And on the holy hearih,
June that we can best climb
The Lars, and Lemures, moan with midnight plaint:
t'y to the sunshine of encumbered ease. Hide me from day's garish eye,
A drear and dying sound
How delicious too are the evenings become. The While the bee with honied thigh,
Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;
frosts and damps of spring are past; the earth is dry That at her flowery work doth sing,
And the chill marble seems to sweat,
the night air is balmy and refreshing; the glow-worn And the waters murmuring,
While each peculiar Power foregoes his wonted seat. With such consort as they keep,
* Don't. Where's the necessity of bringing pain into so Entice the dewy-feather'd sleep;
He proceeds to dismiss the idols of Palestine, and
sweet a tine?- Editor. the brute gods of Egypt
+ The less the better. And let some strange mysterious dream
Why angle at all? Is not all this
beauty enough? Mr. Howitt does not do himsell justice, Wave at his wings in aery stream
when he recommends, or seems to recoin mend, giing Of lively portraiture display'd, Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud,
own poel.cal mind is such, that he is in no need of bookte
aboul for a sensation in the muse of all this viiboess; why Softly on my eye-lids laid.
We do not feel for those, nor does he; but the little should he not assist the richness towards saistying otinin, ille And as I wake, sweet music breathe
stead of striking it with the poverty of want! and such a wani! Above, about, or underneath, household gods of Rome, trembling like kittens on the
If certain contempts of pain be desirable to keep us Sent by some spirit to mortals good, hearth, and the nymphs of Greece mourning their from effeminacy, and too much self-indulgence, it is not pain
of this sort, whicb the mest eftemmate na indulge in, ini!
which keeps ourselves all the white salia u lipped up in clove!
There are hundreds of noble puts whicli inay be ergore
buth for ourselves and oor fellow-retures. Llos choose ont 17 the Arcades, a Marque performed at llarefield them into their own Elysium.
of those, if we have vol enough, and mor hazard (w say the least
of it) nnnecessary angoish, even to the meanist of the creatinine www.ure the Countess of Derby, one of those Genii males
- We do not write this note, of course, to fishermen who must l.is appearance. Two noble shepherds coming forward
live, but to anglers who need not fish. Edit,
has lit her lamp; the bat is circling about; the fra- ments,” and the “Inquiry into the Nature and Causes Lights being called for, Don Ilaln led the way to the grant breath of flowers steals into our houses; and of the Wealth of Nations.” His father was comptroller
lower part of the house; and dismissing the Moorish the moth Hutters against the darkening pane. Go forth of the customs of that place. He had the integrity of
maid near a small door, of which he held the key in his when the business of the day is over, thou who art
hand, desiring her to get two partridges for supper, but pent in city toils, and stray through the newly-shot corn
all men who are earnestly devoted to philosophical not to dress them till he should order it: then unlockalong the grassy and hay-scented fields ; linger beside speculations; but was absent, and perhaps uncouth in ing the door, he began to descend by a winding stairthe solitary woodland; the gale of heaven is stirring his manners. Sir Walter Scott has given somewhere
The Dean followed, with a certain degree of tre. its mighty and umbrageous branches; the wild rose, with its flowers of most delicate odour, and every an anecdote of an encounter between him and Johnson, pidation, which the length of the stairs greatly tended
to increase : for, to all appearance, they reached below tint, from the deepest red to the purest pearl; the
in which the two moral philosophers cut a very un- the bed of the Tagus. At this depth, a comfortable wreathed and luscious honeysuckle, and the verdurous, philosophical figure in point of civility: but we do not neat room was found, the walls completely covered snowy-flowered elder embellish every way-side, or recollect it well enough to repeat it.
with shelves, where Don Illan kept his works on magic: light up the most shadowy region of the wood. Field
globes, planispheres, and strange drawings, occupied peas and beans in full flower, add their spicy aroma;
the top of the book-cases. Fresh air was admitted, the red clover is at once splendid, and profuse of its
though it would be difficult to guess by what means, honied breath. The young corn is bursting into ear;
THE DEAN OF SANTIAGO AND DON
since the sound of gliding water, such as is heard at the awned heads of rye, wheat and barley, and the
ILLAN OF TOLEDO.
the lower part of a ship when sailing with a gentle nodding panicles of oats shoot from their green and
“Lays and Legends of Spain,” (just published.) breeze, intimated but a thin partition between the subglaucous stems, in broad, level, and waving expanses
terraneous cabinet and the river. “Here then,” said of present beauty and future promise. The version of the present excellent story is from the
Don Illan, offering a chair to the Dean, and drawing waters are strewn with flowers; the buck-bean, the easyand vigorous pen of the Rev. Blanco White. Readers
another for himself towards a small round table, water-violet, the elegant flowering-rush, and the queen need hardly be told now-a-days that the germ of it is have only to choose among the elementary works of of the waters, the pure and the splendid white lily into be found in the story of the Sultan and the Bucket
the science for which you long. Suppose we begin to vest, every stream and lonely moor with grace. The
read this small volume.” mavis and the merle, those worthy favourites of the of Water, in the Arabian Nights.
The volume was laid on the table, and opened at the olden bards, and the woodlark, fill the solitude with It was but a short hour before noon when the Dean
first page, containing circles, concentric and excentric, their elegant evening songs.
of St. Jago alighted at the door of Don Illan, the cele- triangles with unintelligible characters, and the wellOver its own sweet voice the stock-dove broods ;
brated magician of Toledo. The house, according to known signs of the planets. “This,” said Don Ilan, and the cuckoo pcurs its mellowest note from some
old tradition, stood on the bank of the perpendicular “is the alphabet of the whole science. Hermes, called region of twilight shadow. The sunsets of this month
rock, which now crowned with Alcazar rises to a Trismegistus” the sound of a small bell within the are transcendantly glorious, the mighty luminary goes
frightful height over the Tagus. A maid of Moorish chamber made the Dean almost leap out of his chair. down pavilioned amidst clouds of every hue; the
blood led the Dean to a retired apartment, where Don Be not alarmed," said Don Illan ; it is the bell, by splendour of burnished gold, the deepest mazarine blue
Illan was reading. The natural politeness of a Castilian which my servants let me know they want to speak to fading away into the deepest heavens to the palest had rather been improved than impaired by the studies
Saying thus, he pulled a thick string, and soon azure, and an ocean of purple is flung over the twilight
of the Toledan sage, who exhibited nothing in his dress after a servant appeared with a packet of letters. It woods, or the far stretching and lonely horizon. The heart
or person that might induce even a suspicion of his was addressed to the Dean. A courier had closely of the spectator is touched; it is melted and wrapt into
dealing with the mysterious powers of darkness. “I followed him on the road, and was at that moment dreams of past and present, pure, elevated, and tinged heartily greet your reverence,” said Don Ilan to the arrived at Toledo. “Good Heavens !” exclaimed the with a poetic tenderness.
Dean, “and feel highly honoured by this visit. What- Dean, having read the contents of the letters; “my
ever be the object of it, let me beg you will defer stating great uncle, the archbishop of Santiago is dangerously SHEEP-SHEARING, 'began last month, is generally
it till I have made you quite at home in this house. I ill. This is, however, what the secretary says, from completed this. It is one of the most picturesque That maid, Sir, will shew you the room, which has been archbishop of the diocese, who assures me that the old
hear my housekeeper making ready the noonday meal. his lordship's dictation. But here is another from the operations of rural life, and from the most ancient times, it has been regarded as a scene of gladness and joy.
prepared for you. And when you have brushed off the man was not expected to live. I can hardly repeat
dust of your journey, you shall find a canonical capon what he adds. Poor dear uncle, may heaven lengthen Like most of our old festivities, however, this has, hot upon the board.”
his days! The chapter seem to have turned their eyes late years, declined; yet two instances in which it
The dinner, which soon followed, was just what a towards me—and,--pugh-it cannot be—but the electhas been attempted to keep it alive, on a noble scale,
pampered Spanish canon would wish it-abundant, ors, according to the archdeacon, are quite decided in worthy of a country so renowned for its flocks and its
nutritive, and delicate. "No, no,” said Don Illan, my favour. “Well,” said Don Illan, “all I regret is ficeces, will occur to the reader,-those of Holkham
when the soup, and a bumper of tinto had recruited the interruption of our studies; but I doubt not you and Woburn; and in the wilds of Scotland, and the
the Dean's spirits, and he saw him making an attempt will soon wear the mitre. In the meantime, I would more rural parts of England, ihe ancient glory of sheep
to break the object of his visit; “no business, please advise you to pretend that illness does not allow you shearing has not entirely departed. And, indeed, its
your reverence, while at dinner. Let us enjoy our to return directly. A few days will give a decided turn picturesqueness can never depart, however its jollity
meal at present, and when we have discussed the olla, to the whole affair; and at all events, your absence, in may. The sheep washing, however, which precedes the
the capon, and a bottle of Yepes, it will be time enough the case of an election, will be construed into modesty. shearing, has more of rural beauty about it. to turn to the cares of life.”
Write, therefore, your despatches, my dear sir, and stroll over some sunny heath, or descend into some
The ecclesiastic's full face had never beamed with we will prosecute our studies at another time." sylvan valley in this sweet month, we are apt to come
more glee at the collection on Christmas Eve, when, Two days had elapsed since the arrival of the mesupon such scenes. We hear afar off the bleating of by the indulgence of the church, the fast is broken at senger, when the verger of the church of Santiago, atflocks; as we approach some clear stream, we behold
sunset, instead of continuing through the night, than tended by servants in splendid liveries, alighted at Don the sheep penned on its banks; in mid stream stand
it did now, under the influence of Don Man's good Man's door, with letters for the Dean. The old prelate sturdy hinds ready to receive them as they are plunged
humour and heart-cheering wine. Still it was evident was dead, and his nephew had been elected to the see, in, one by one, and after squeezing their saturated
that some vehement and ungovernable wish had taken by the unanimous vote of the chapter. The elected fleeces well between their hands, and giving them one
possession of his mind, breaking out now and then in dignitary seemed overcome by contending feelings; but, good submersion, they guide them to the opposite bank.
some hurried motion, some gulping up of a full glass having wiped away some decent tears, he assumed an ajr The clear running waters, the quiet fields, the whisper
of wine without stopping to relish the flavour, and fifty of gravity, which almost touched on superciliousness. ing fresh boughs that thicken around, and the poor
other symptoms of absence and impatience, which at Don Man addressed his congratulations, and was the first dripping creatures themselves, that, after giving them
such a distance from the cathedral could not be attri. to kiss the new archbishop's hand; “I hope," he added, selves a staggering shake, go off gladly to their pasture,
buted to the afternoon bell. The time came at length “I may also congratulate my son, the young man who form to the eye an animated and splendid tout ensemble.
of rising from table, and in spite of Don Illan's pressing is now at the university of Paris, for í flatter myself,
request to have another bottle, the Dean, with a certain your lordship will give him the deanery, which is now June 13th (1st O. S.) 1594, at Andely in Normandy,
dignity of manner, led his good-natured host to the vacant by your promotion." My worthy friend, Don
recess of an oriel window, looking upon the river. Nicholas Poussin, the landscape and historical painter.
Illen,” replied the archbishop elect, “My obligation to
“Allow me, dear Don Illan," he said, “to open my you I can never repay. You have heard my character; His family were reduced gentry. The addition of the heart to you; for even your hospitality must fail to I hold a fuend as another self. But why would you earnest and grave character of the Normans to the ge
make me completely happy till I have obtained the boon take the lad away from his studies ? An archbishop of
which I came to ask. I know that no man ever posneral French vivacity, rendered him one of the great
St. Jago cannot want preferment at any time. Follow sessed greater power than you over the invisible agents me to my diocese; I will not, for all the mitres in names in art, fit to be mentioned with those of Italy. of the universe. I die to become an adept in that Christendom, forego the benefit of your instruction; He had learning, luxuriousness, and sentiment, and
wonderful science, and if you will receive me as your the Deanery, to tell the truth, must be given to my gave himself up to each, as his subject inclined him, pupil, there is nothing I should think of sufficient worth uncle, my father's own brother, who has had but a though never perhaps without a strong consciousness to repay your friendship."
small living for many years; he is much liked at San
“Good sir,” replied Don Illan, "Ishould be extremely tiago, and I should lose my character is, to place such of the art as well as nature of what he had to do. His loth to offend you, but permit me to say, that in spite a young man as your son at the head of the chapter, historical performances are his driest; his poetical of the knowledge of causes and effects which I have ac- I neglected an exemplary priest so nearly related to quired, all that my experience teaches me of the hearts
me.” subjects full of gusto; his landscapes remote, medita
Just as you please, my lord,” said Don Illan, of men is not only vague and indistinct, but for the
and began to prepare for the journey. tive, and often with a fine darkness in them, as if his
most part unfavourable. I only guess; I cannot read The acclamations which greeted the new archbishop wrese were older than any other painter's. Shade is their thoughts, nor pry into the recesses of their minds. on his arrival at the capital of Gallicia, were, not long upon them, as light is upon Claude's. Poussin was a
As for yourself, I am sure you are a rising man, and after, succeeded by an universal regret, at his transla
But genuine enthusiast, to whom his art was his wealth, whether, when you find yourself in places of high likely to obtain the first dignities of the church. tion to the sec of the recently conquered town of Seville.
“I will not leave you behind,” said the Archbishop to whether it made him rich or not.
He got as much
honour and patronage, you will remember the humble Don Illan, who with more timidity than he shewed at money as he wanted, and would not hurry and de- personage of whom you now ask hazardous and im- Toledo, approached to kiss the sacred ring in the Archgrade his genius to get more. A pleasant anecdote portant services, it is impossible for me to ascertain." bishop's right hand, and to offer his humble congratu
Nay, nay," exclaimed the Dean, “but I know my- lations; "but do not fret about your son; he is too is related of him, at a time when he must have been self, if you do not, Don Illan. Generosity and friend- young I have my mother's relations to provide for, in very moderate circumstances. He spent the greatest ship (since you force me to speak in my own praise) but Seville is a rich see; the blessed King Ferdinand part of his life at Rome, and Bishop (afterward Car- have been the delight of my soul even from childhood. who rescued it from the Moors, endowed its church so dinal) Mancini being attended by him one evening to
Doubt not, my dear friend, (for by that name I wish as to make it rival the first cathedrals in Christendom.
you would allow me to call you) doubt not, from this Do but follow me, and all will be well in the end. Don the door, for want of a servant, the Bishop said, “I moment, to command my services. Whatever interest Illan bowed with a suppressed sigh, and was soon after pity you, Monsieur Poussin, for having no servant." I may possess, it will be my highest gratification to see on the banks of the Guadalquivir, in the suite of the 'And I pity your lordship,” said the painter, “for it redound in favour of you and yours.”
new Archbishop. having so many."
“My hearty thanks for all, worthy sir,” said Don Scarcely had Don Illan's pupil been at Seville one
Illan; “ but let us now proceed to business, the sun is year, when his far extended fame moved the Pope tu June 17th (5th O.S.) 1723, at Kirkaldy in Scotland, set, and if you please, we will retire to my private send him a Cardinai's hat, desiring his presence at the Adam Smith, author of the "Theory of Moral Senti. study."
Court of Rome. The crowd of visitors that came to
congratulate the prelate, kept Don Illan away for many days. He at length obtained a private audience, and, with tears in his eyes, entreated his eminence not to oblige him to quit Spain. "I am growing old, my lord," he said: "I quitted my house at Toledo only for your sake, and in hopes of raising my son to some place of honour and emolument in the church; I even gave up my favourite studies, except as far as they were of service to your eminence. My son," "No more of that, if you please, Don Illan," interrupted the Cardinal. "Follow me you must, who can tell what may happen in Rome? The Pope is old, you know. But do not tease me about preferment. A public man has duties of a description which those in the lower ranks of life cannot either weigh or comprehend. I confess I am under obligations to you, and feel quite disposed to reward your services; yet I must not have my creditors knocking every day at my door; you understand, Don Illan. In a week we set out for Rome." With such a strong tide of good fortune as had hitherto buoyed up Don Illan's pupil, the reader cannot be surprized.to find him, in a short time, wearing the papal crown. He was now arrived at the highest place of honour on earth; but in the bustle of the election and subsequent coronation, the man to whose wonderful science he owed this rapid ascent, had completely slipped off his memory. Fatigued with the exhibition of himself through the streets of Rome, which he had been obliged to make in a solemn procession, the new Pope sat alone in one of the chambers of the Vatican. It was early in the night. By the light of two wax tapers which scarcely illuminated the further end of the saloon, his holiness was enjoying that reverie of mixed pain and pleasure which follows the complete attainment of ardent wishes, when Don Illan advanced in visible perturbation, conscious of the intrusion on which he ventured. "Holy father!" exclaimed the old man, and cast himself at his pupil's feet. "Holy father, in pity to these grey heirs, do not consign an old servantmight I not say an old friend, to utter neglect and forgetfulness. My son-" "By St. Peter!" ejaculated his holiness, rising from the chair, "your insolence shall be checked-You my friend: a magician the friend of Heaven's vicegerent!-Away, wretched man! When I pretended to learn of thee it was only to sound the abyss of crime into which thou hadst plunged; I did it with a view of bringing thee to condign punishment. Yet, in compassion to thy age, I will not make an example of thee, provided thou avoidest mine eyes. Hide thy crime and shame where thou canst. This moment thou must quit the palace, or the next closes the gates of the inquisition upon thee."
Trembling, and his wrinkled face bedewed with tears, Don Illan begged to be allowed but one word more. "I am very poor, Holy Father," said he: "trusting in your patronage I relinquished my all, and have not left wherewith to pay my journey." Away I say, answered the Pope; "if my excessive bounty has made you neglect your patrimony, I will no further encourage your waste and imprudence. Poverty is but a slight punishment for your crimes." "But, father," rejoined Don Illan, "my wants are instant: I am hungry; give me but a trifle to procure supper to-night. To-morrow I shall beg my way out of Rome." "Heaven forbid that I should be guilty of feeding the ally of the prince of darkness" said the Pope. 'Away, away from my presence, or I instantly call for the guard." "Well then," replied Don Illan, rising from the ground, and looking on the Pope with a boldness which began to throw his Holiness into a paroxysm of rage, "if I am to starve at Rome, I had better return to the supper which I ordered at Toledo." Thus saying, he rang a gold bell, which stood on a table next the Pope.
The door opened without delay, and the Moorish servant came in. The Pope looked round, and found himself in the subterranean study under the Tagus. "Desire the cook," said Don Illan to the maid, to put but one partridge to roast; for I will not throw away the other on the Dean of St. Jago.
ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE.
EVERY generation has had its "most impudent man alive," a designation invented, we believe, in favour of Bishop Warburton, whose genius, however, was perhaps nearly on a par with his pretensions. Very different was the case with the clever but shameless, and therefore foolish though clever man, who is the subject of the following account, and who became the quack he was for want of heart,-the secret of most apparent inconsistencies between cleverness and folly in the same individual.
John Henley was a native of Melton Mowbray, in the county of Leicester, where he officiated several years as curate, and conducted a grammar school; but feeling, or fancying that a genius like his ought not to be cramped in so obscure a situation, "having been long convinced that many gross errors and impostures prevailed in the various institutions and establishments of mankind, and being ambitious of restoring ancient eloquence;" but, as his enemies assert, to avoid the scandal and embarrassments of an amour, he repaired to the metropolis, and for a short time performed cleri
cal functions in the neighbourhood of Bloomsburysquare, with a prospect of succeeding to the lectureship of the parish, which soon became vacant.
Several candidates offering for the situation, a warm contest ensued; and after Mr. Henley's probation sermon, which he thought would ensure him an easy victory, we may judge of the disappointment of this disciple of Demosthenes and Cicero, when he was told by a person, deputed from the congregation, that they had nothing to object against his language or his doctrine, but that he threw himself about too much in the pulpit, and that another person was chosen."
Losing his temper as well as his election, he rushed into an adjoining room, where the principal parishioners were assembled, and thus addressed them, in all the vehemence of outrageous passion :-" Blockheads, are you qualified to decide on the degree of action necessary for a preacher of God's word? Were you able to read, or had you sufficient sense, you sorry knaves, to understand the most renowned orator of antiquity, he would tell you that the great, almost the only requisite, for a public speaker, was action, action, action; but I despise and defy you; provoco ad populum, the public shall decide between us." With these words he quitted the place for ever, but in order "to shame the fools," printed his discourse.
Thus disappointed in his hopes of preferment, in the regular routine of his profession, he becaine, "if the expression is allowable," (says our authority) a quack divine, a character for which he was eminently qualified, possessing a strong voice, fluent language, an imposing, magisterial air, theatric gesture, and a countenance which no violation of propriety, reproach, or self-correction, was ever known to embarrass or discompose.
He immediately advertised, that he should hold forth publicly two days in the week, and hired for this pur pose a large room, in or near Newport-market, which he called the Oratory; but previous to the commencement of his "Academical Discourses," he chose to write a letter to Whiston, the celebrated mathematician and dissenter, in which he desired to know, whether he should incur any legal penalties by officiating as a Separatist from the Church of England.
Whiston did not encourage Henley's project, and a correspondence took place, which, ending in virulence and ill-language, occasioned the latter, a few years after, to send the following laconic note to his adver
"To MR. WILLIAM WHISTON: "Take notice, that I give you warning not to enter my room at Newport-market, at your peril. JOHN HENLEY."
As tickets of admission for those who subscribed to his lectures, medals were issued with the rising sun for a device; and a motto expressive of the man, as well as of the motives by which he was impelled: "Inveniam viam aut faciam :" (I will find a way, or make one). He also published what may be termed a syllabus of his lectures, containing a long list of the various subjects he meant to handle, religious and political, in which it was easy to see, that he had selected whatever he thought likely to excite public curiosity.
By these and other means, particularly by his singular advertisements, which were generally accompanied by some sarcastic stanza on public men and measures, he generally filled his room. Sometimes one of his old Bloomsbury friends caught the speaker's eye; on which occasions, Henley could not suppress the ebullitions of vanity and resentment; he would suddenly arrest his discourse, and address the unfortunate interloper in words to the following effect: "You see, sir, all the world is not exactly of your opinion; there are, you perceive, a few sensible people who think me not wholly unqualified for the office I have undertaken."
His abashed and confounded adversaries, thus attacked (in a public company, a most awkward species of address), were glad to retire, and in some instances were pushed out of the room.
On the Sabbath day he generally read part of the liturgy of the Church of England, and sometimes used extempore prayer.
That the efforts of the oratory might be assisted by its handmaid, the press, Mr. Henley soon commenced author; the subject he chose," proved that he entertained no men opinion of his own abilities. To render some of his pamphlets more impressive, or more attractive, he published them in a black letter type. The following were the title of a few of his publications:"The Origin of Evil;" "The Means of Forming a Correct Taste;" "A Comparative View of Ancient and Modern Languages;" "Thoughts on the Scriptural Narrative of a Confusion of Tongues;" "A Defence of Christianity."
He was also supposed to contribute to the "Hypdoctor," a periodical paper, published at that time; and is said to have received from Sir Robert Walpole, a present of a hundred pounds, as a reward for his services in that paper. Sir Robert was never reckoned any great judge of literary merit. Henley was also author of a pamphlet occasioned by his obtruding himself into a religious controversy on baptism, entitled, "Samuel sleeping in the Wilderness."
As his popularity encreased, the place where he amused or instructed his friends, was found not sufficiently capacious, and he procured a larger and more commodious receptacle, near a Catholic chapel in Duke Street, Lincolns' Inn Fields.
In a fit of humourous caprice, or in the hope of enticing some of the frequenters of that place of worship
to visit him, he called his new room, in some of his advertisements, the little Catholic chapel. If any tholics happened to look in after mass, he was studious of paying them particular attention and respect, and would, in some way or other, introduce a recommendation of universal philanthropy and religious toleration. On one of these occasions, he uttered the following apostrophe: "After all this outcry about the devil, the Pope, and the Pretender, who and what is this bugbear, this monster, this Pope, whom we so much dread? He is only a man like ourselves, the ecclesiastical sovereign of Rome, the father and head of the Catholic Church." When the lecture concluded, he was seen to advance towards a leading man among the Catholics, and shaking him heartily by the hand, welcomed him in the following words, God bless you, I love you all; we are all Christians alike, from the same stock, divided only by a few non-essentials."
Whether this mode of proceeding was dictated by the liberal spirit of philosophical indifference, by Christian charity, by any latent Papistical propensity, or for the mere purpose of inviting customers of all persuasions to his shop, may be easily determined by considering the character of Henley. Having acquired, or assumed, the name of Orator Henley, it became the fashion in certain circles to hear his lectures; he attracted the notice and excited the resentment of Pope, who lashed him severely in his Dunciad. Much of the poet's satire is well applied; except where he describes him as a zany, and a talker of nonsense. This, certainly, is not a character or just description of Henley, who was impudent, insolent, and conceited, a vain-glorious boaster, determined at all events, and at all risks, to excite the attention of the public; but he exhibited at times a quaint shrewdness, a farcical humour, and occasionally a depth of reflection, far beyond the reach of a fool. He was rather what the Methodists once called their great episcopal assailant, (Bishop Lavington) "a theological and political buffoon."
A complete series of his singular advertisements, mottos, medals, and pamphlets, with a panegyric on him, in the form of a life, by Welstead, was at one time collected, and in the possession of an antiquary.
By coarse irony, vulgar raillery, and a certain humourous quaintness of expression, he often raised the laugh against opponents, superior to him in learning and argument. Henley once incurred the hostility of the government, and was several days in the custody of a king's messenger. On this occasion, Lord Chesterfield, the Secretary of State, amused himself and his associates in office, by sporting with the hopes and fears of our restorer of ancient eloquence. During his examination before the Privy Council, Henley asked leve to be seated, on account of a real or pretended rheumatism, and occasioning considerable merriment by his eccentric answers himself joining heartily and loudly in the laughs he excited. The noble lord having expostulated with him on the impropriety of ridiculing the exertions of the country, at the moment a rebellion raged in the heart of the kingdom, he replied, "I thought there was no harm in cracking a joke on a red-herring;" alluding to Archbishop Herring, who had proposed or actually commenced arming the clergy!
A number of 'disrespectable and unwarrantable expressions he had applied to persons high in office, and to their conduct, being repeated to him, his only reply was, "My lords, I must live." "I see no reason for that, Mr. Henley," replied Lord Chesterfield. The council seemed pleased at the retort, but Henley immediately answered; "That is a good thing, but unfortunately it has been said before."
After being reprimanded for his improper conduct, he was in a few days dismissed as an impudent but entertaining fellow.
The following was circulated by Henley as an advertisement, or by way of handbill, in Oct. 1726:
'Having been threatened by various letters, that if I do not drop the oratory, a minute account of my life and character shall be published, I take this method of informing those who propose undertaking it, that they must be speedy, or their market will be spoiled, as I am writing it myself.
SONGS OF TRADES, OR SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE. THE following article, which will be interesting to the awakened intelligence of the working classes, is taken from the very amusing third volume, (lately published,) of Mr. D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature. When will the trades of all England have their songs? When they are all well fed and happy. This is the process with the birds, and it must be so with men. The time will come; knowledge, and self-knowledge, and growing benevolence, are all preparing it, songless and even discordant as much of the interval may be. But come it will, as sure as wisdom brings justice.
Men of genius have devoted some of their hours, and even governments have occasionally assisted, to render the people happier by song and dance. The Grecians had songs appropriated to the various trades. Songs of this nature would shorten the manufacturer's tedious task-work, and solace the artizan at his solitary
'occupation. A beam of gay fancy kindling his mind, I. The more ancient songs of the people perished by alive the gaiety of the domestic circle, whose burthens a playful change of measures delighting his ear, even a having been printed in single sheets, and by their hum- were always chorused, is lamented by the French antimoralizing verse to cherish his better feelings--these ble purchasers having no other library to preserve them quary. Our fathers had a custom to amuse themingeniously adapted to each profession, and some to the than the walls on which they pasted them. Those we selves at the dessert of a feast by a joyous song of this display of patriotic characters and national events, have consist of a succeeding race of ballads, chiefly re
nature. Each in his turn sung—all chorused.” This would contribute something to public happiness. Such vived or written by Richard Johnson, the author of the ancient gaiety was sometimes gross and noisy; but he themes are worthy of a patriotic bard, of the Southeys well-known romance of the Seven Champions, and prefers it to the tame decency of our times — these for their hearts, and the Moores for their verse.
Delony, the writer of Jack of Newbury's Life and the smiling, not laughing days of Lord Chesterfield. Fletcher of Saltown said, “If a man were permitted Gentle Craft," who lived in the time of James and
"On ne rit plus, on sourit anjourd'hui, to make all the ballads, he need not care who should Charles. One Martin Parker was a most notorious
Et nos plaisirs sont voisins de l'ennui." make all the laws of a nation." The character of a ballad-scribbler in the reign of Charles the First and
(We do'nt laugh now-a-days; we smile; sage wel
Our very pleasures border on ennui.) people is preserved in their national songs. “God save the Protector. the king," and "Rule Britannia,” were long our Eng- These wricers, in their old age, collected their songs
These are old French Vandevilles, formerly sung at lish national airs.
into little penny books, called “Garlands,” some of meals by the company. Count de Granmont is men. “ The story of Amphion building Thebes with his which have been republished by Ritson, and a recent tioned by Hamilton as being Tyre was not a fable,” says Dr. Clarke. “At Thebes in editor has well described them as “humble and amusing
Agreable et vif en propos, the harmonious adjustment of those masses which re- village strains, founded upon the squabbles of a wake,
Celebre diseur de bon mots, main belonging to the ancient walls, we saw enough to tales of untrue love, superstitious rumours, or miracu.
Recueil vivant d'antiques Vaudevilles convince us that this story was no fable; for it was a Jous traditions of the hanılet.” They enter into the
(Agreeable and a propos, very ancient custom to carry on immense labour by an picture of our manners, as much as folio chronicles.
A famous sayer of bon mots, accompaniment of music and singing. The custom These songs abounded in the good old times of
A living storehouse of old Vaudevilles.) still exists both in Egypt and Greece. It might, there- Elizabeth and James; for Hall in his Satires, notices These vaudevilles were originally invented by a fuller fore, be said, that the walls of Thebes were built at the them as
of Vau de Vire, or the Valley of the River Vire, and sound of the only musical instrument then in use; be
"Sung to the wheel, and sung unto the payle;" were sung by his men as they spread their cloths on cause, according to the custom of the country, the lyre That is, sung by maidens spinning, or milking; and
the banks of the river. They were songs composed on was necessary for the accomplishment of the works." indeed Shakspeare had described them as “old and
some incident or adventure of the day. At first, these The same custom appears to exist in Africa. Lander plain," chanted by
gay playful effusions were called the songs of Vau de notices at Yaoorie, that the labourers in their planta
“ The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun,
Vire, till they become known as Vaudevilles. Boileau tions were attended by a drummer, that they might be
And the free maids that weave their threads with bones.”
has well described them : excited by the sound of his instrument to work well
La liberte Francoise en ses vers se deploie ; and briskly.
They were the favourites of the Poet of Nature, who Cet enfant de plaisirs veut naitre dans la joie. Athenaeus has preserved the Greek names of differ
takes every opportunity to introduce them into the (French freedom vents itself in song; the birth ent songs as sung by various trades, but unfortunately
or Pleasure's child must needs be known by mirth., mouths of his clown, his fool, and his itinerant none of the songs themselves. There was a song for the corn grinders ; another for the workers in wool; probably not the slightest conception of their nature,
Autolycus. When the musical Dr. Burney, who had It is well-known how the attempt ended, of James 1, another for the weavers. The reapers had their carol;
and his unfortunate son, by the publication of their the herdsmen had a song which an ox-driver of Sicily plicity, ventures to call the songs of Autolycus,
and perhaps as little taste for their rude and wild sim- “Book of Sports,” to preserve the national character
from the gloom of fanatical puritanism; among its unhad composed; the kneaders, and the bathers, and the galley rowers, were not without their chant. We have
nonsensical songs,” the musician called down on him- happy effects there was, however, one not a little lu
self one of the bitterest notes from Stevens, that ever dicrous. The puritans, offended by the gentlest forms ourselves a song of the weavers, which Ritson has preserved in his “Ancient Songs ;” and it may be found commentator penned against a profane scoffer.
of mirth, and every day becoming more sullen, were in the popular chap-book of “The Life of Jack of New.
Whatever these songs were, it is evident they formed so shocked at the simple merriment of the people, that
a source of recreation to the solitary task-worker. But they contrived to parody these songs into spiritual bury;" and the songs of anglers, of old Izaak Walton,
as the more masculine trades had their own songs, and Charles Cotton, still retain their freshness.
ones; and Shakspeare speaks of the puritan of his day whose titles only appear to have reached us, such as Among the Greeks, observed Bishop Heber, the hymn
“singing psalms to hornpipes." As Puritans are the same “The Carman's Whistle," “ Watkin's Ale," which placed Harmodius in the green and flowery island
Chop- in all times, the Methodists in our own repeated the of the Blessed, was chanted by the potter to his wheel;
ping Knives,” they were probably appropriated to the foolery, and set their hymns to popular tunes and jigs, and enlivened the labours of the Piracan mariner.
respective trades they indicate. The tune of the which one of them said “were too good for the devil.” Dr. Johnson is the only writer J recollect who has
“Carman's Whistle,” was composed by Bird, and the They have sung hymns to the air of “The beds of sweet
favourite tune of “ Queen Elizabeth," may be found in noticed something of this nature which he observed in
roses," &c. Wesley once, in the pulpit, described himthe Highlands.
the collection called "Queen Elizabeth's Virginal Book.” self, in his old age, in the well-known ode of Anacreon, The strokes of the sickle were timed by the modulation of the harvest song, in which all their
One who has lately heard it played, says, that “it has by merely substituting his own name! There have voices were united. They accompany every action
more air than the other execrable compositions in her been Puritans among other people as well as our own : which can be done in equal time with an appropriate
Majesty's book, something resembling a French quad- the same occurrence took place both in Italy and rille.
France. strain, which has, they say, not much meaning, but its
In Italy, the Carnival songs were turned into The feeling our present researches would excite pious hymns; the hymn Jesu fammi morire is sung to effects are regularity and cheerfulness. There is an oar song used by the Hebrideans.”
would naturally be most strong'y felt in small com- the music of l’aga bella e gentile ;---Crucifisso a capo chino But if these chants “ have not much meaning,” they
munities, where the interest of the governors is to to that of Una donna d'amor fino, one of the most in
contribute to the individual happiness of the laborious will not produce the desired effect of touching the
decent pieces in the Canzoni a ballo; and the hymn classes. The Helvetic society requested Lavater to heart, as well as giving vigour to the arm of the la
beginning, bourer. The gondoliers of Venice while away their compose the Schweizerlieder, or Swiss songs, which
E la Madre Maria," long midnight hours on the water with the stanzas of
are now sung by the youth of many of the cantons ;
and various Swiss poets have successfully composed on Tasso. Fragments of Homer are sung by the Greek
was sung to the gay tune of Lorenzo de Medici, national subjects, associated with their best feelings. sailors of the Archipelago; the severe labour of the
“ Ben venga Maggio, In such paternal governments as was that of Florence trackers, in China, is accompanied with a song which
E'l gonfalon selvaggio."} under the Medici, we find that songs and dances for the encourages their exertions, and renders these simul
Athenaeus notices what we call slang or flash songs. taneous. Mr. Ellis mentions, that the sight of the people engaged the muse of Lorenzo, who condescended lofty pagoda of Tong-chow served as a great topic of to delight them with pleasant songs composed in popu
He tells us that there were poets who composed songs incitement in the song of the trackers, toiling against followed by the men of genius of the age. These lar language; the example of such a character was
in the dialect of the mob; and who succeeded in this
kind of poetry, adapted to their various characters. the stream to their place of rest. The canoe-men, on the Gold Coast, in a very dangerous passage, ancient songs, often adapted to the different trades,
The French call such songs Chansons à la Vade ;* the back of a high curling wave, paddling with all their allusions, the humourous equivoques, and sometimes opened a vein of invention in the new characters, and style of the poissardes (fishwomen) is ludicrously applied,
to the gravest matters of state, and convey the popular might, singing, or rather shouting their wild-song, fol
feelings in the language of the populace. This sort of low it up,” says M‘Leod, who was a lively witness of collected in 1559, under the title of “Canti Carnasciaby the licentiousness of popular fancy. They were
satirical song is happily defined, this happy combination of song, of labour, and of peril; leschi," and there is a modern edition, in 1590, in two which he acknowledged was a very terrific process.”
" Il est l'esprit de ceux, qui n'en ont pas." Our sailors at Newcastle, in heaving their anchors, volumes quarto. It is said they sing to this day a
(The wit of those who have none.) have their “Heave and ho! rum-below!" but the si. popular one by Lorenzo, beginning
Athenaeus has also preserved songs sung by petitioncilian mariners must be more deeply affected by their
“ Ben venga maggi),
ers who went about on holidays to collect alms. A beautiful hymn to the Virgin. A society, instituted in
E’l gonfalon selvaggio."
friend of mine, with taste and learning, has discovered Holland for general good, do not consider among their
(Welcome, welcome, may-time,
in his researches “ The Crow Song” and “The Swallow lcast useful projects that of having printed, at a low
And the boughs they bring at day-time).
Song,” and has transfused their spirit in a happy verprice, a collection of songs for sailors.
which has all the florid brilliancy of an Italian spring. sion. I preserve a few striking ideas. It is extremely pleasing, as it is true, to notice the The most delightful songs of this nature would na
The collectors for “ The Crow" sung: honest exultation of an excellent ballad-writer, C. Dib turally be found among a people whose climate and “ My good worthy masters, a pittance bestow, din, in his Professional Life. “I have learnt my songs whose labours alike inspire a general hilarity; and the Some oatmea., or barley, or wheat for the crow. have been considered an object of national consequence; vineyards of France have produced a class of songs, of A loaf, or a penny, or een what you will ;that they have been the solace of sailors and long voy
From the poor man, a grain of his salt may suffice, excessive gaiety and freedom, called "Chansons de Ven.
For your crow swallows all, and is not over-nice. agers, in storms, in battle; and that they have been danges.” “Le Grand d'Assoucy describes them in his And the man who can now give lis grain, and no more, quoted in mutinies, to the restoration of order and dis- Histoire de la Vie privee des Francais."
May another day give from a plentiful store. cipline.” The Portuguese soldiery in Ceylon, at the and women, each with a basket on their arm, assemble
Come my lad to the door, Plutus nods to our wish, siege of Colombo, when pressed with misery, and the at the foot of a hill; there stopping, they arrange
And our sweet little mistress comes out with a dish;
She gives us her tigy, and she gives us a smilepangs of hunger, during their marches, derived not themselves in a circle. The chief of this band tunes Heaven send her a husband ! only consolation, but also encouragement, by rehearsing up a joyous song, whose burthen is chorused; then they And a boy to be danced on his grsndfather's knee, the stanzas of the Lusiad.
And a girl like herself, all the joy of her mother, descend, and dispersed in the vineyard, they work with
Who may one day present her with just such another. We oursolves have been a great ballad nation, and out interruption their tasks, while new couplets often
Thus we carry our crow-song to door after door, once abounded with songs of the people; not, how- resound from some of the vine-dressers ; sometimes Alternately chanting we ramble along, ever, of this particular species, but rather of narrative intermixed with a sudden jest at a traveller. In the
And we treat all who give, or give not, with a song." poems. They are described by Puttenham, a critic in evening, their supper scarcely over, their joy recom- Swallow-singing, or chelidonising, as the Greek term the reign of Elizabeth, as “small and popular songs, mences, they dance in a circle, and sing some of those is, was another method of collecting eleemosynary sung by those Cantabanqui, upon benches and barrels' songs of free gaiety, which the moment excuses, known gifts, which took place in the month Boedromion, or heads, where they have no other audience than boys, by the name of vineyard songs. The gaiety becomes August. or country fellows that pass by them in the streets; or general ; masters, guests, friends, servants, all dance
“The swallow, the swallow is here, eise by blind harpers, or such like tavern-minstrels, together; and in this manner a day of labour termi. Hith his back so black, and his belly 80 wkite, that give a fit of mirth for a groat.” Such were nates, which one might mistake for a day of diversion.
lle brings on the pride of the year, Reliques of ancient English Poetry,” which It is what I have witnessed in Champagne, in a land of
#th the gay mouths of love, and the days of delight. Selden collected, Pepys preserved, and Percy published. vines, far different from the country where the labours Ritson, our great poetical antiquary in this sort of of the harvest from s painful a contrast.
* Songs in the style of Vade,- from a farce writer of tha things, says that few are older than the reign of James The extinction of those songs which formerly kept name,
who made it popular,
Come bring out your good hamming staff, Of the nice tit bits let the swallow partake; And a slice of the right Boedromion cake. So give, and give quickly,
Or we'll pull down the door from its hinges: Or we'll steal young madam away!
But see! we're a merry boy's party,
And the swallow, the swallow, is here!"
These songs resemble those of our ancient mummers, who to this day, in honour of Bishop Blaise, the saint of wool-combers, go about chanting on the eves of their holidays. A custom long existed in this country to elect a Boy-Bishop in almost every parish; the Montem at Eton still prevails for the Boy-Captain; and there is a closer connexion perhaps between the custom which produced the "Songs of the Crow and the Swallow," and our northern mummeries, than may be at first suspected. The pagan Saturnalia, which the swallow song by its pleasant menaces resembles, were afterwards disguised in the forms adopted by the early Christians; and such are the remains of the Roman Catholic religion, in which the people were long indulged in their old taste for mockery and mummery, I must add in connexion with our main inquiry, that our own ancient beggars had their songs, in their own cant language, some of which are as old as the Elizabethan period, and many are fancifully characteristic of their habits and their feelings.
ABSTRACT OF THE MEMOIRS OF HIS LIFE AND TRAVELS.
JOHN LEDYARD was born in the year 1751, at Groton in Connecticut, a small village on the banks of the river Thames, opposite to New London. Little is known of his childhood; he attended the Grammar School in Hartford, and was originally intended for the law. The dryness of the pursuit, and perhaps the sedentary application, ultimately deterred him from that profession. He subsequently, at the age of nineteen, entered the Dartmouth college, just established by Dr. Wheelock; an institution intended to prepare young missionaries for the conversion and improvement of the Indians. His journey from Hartford to Hanover was performed in a sulky, the first vehicle of the kind that had been seen on Dartmouth Plain, and it attracted curiosity, not more from this circumstance, than from the old appearance of the equipage. Both the horse and the sulky gave evident tokens of having known better days; and the dress of their owner was peculiar, bidding equal defiance to symmetry of proportions and the fashion of the times. In addition to the traveller's own weight, the vehicle was burdened with a quantity of calico for curtains, and other articles to assist in theatrical exhibitions of which he was very fond. From the character of this outfit we may conclude that he did not intend time should pass on heavy wings at Dartmouth. Considering the newness of the country, the want of bridges, and the bad state of the roads, this jaunt, in a crazy sulky, was thought to indicate no feeble spirit of enterprise. The journey might have been performed with much more ease and expedition on horseback, but in that case his theatrical apparatus must have been left behind.
As a scholar, at college, he was respectable, but not over diligent; he acquired knowledge with facility, and could make quick progress when he chose; but was impatient of the school routine. Accordingly, he diversified his studies with acting Cato, and the like; but even this was not enough in the way of relaxation. He had not been quite four months in college, when he suddenly disappeared, without previous notice or permission. The full extent of his travels during his absence cannot now be known, but he is understood to have wandered to the borders of Canada, and among the Six Nations. Nothing more is heard of his missionary projects, although it is not clear at what time he absolutely abandoned them. When three months and a half had expired, he returned to college and resumed his studies.
If his dramatic performances were not revived, as it would seem they were not, his erratic spirit did not sink into a lethargy. In mid-winter, when the ground was covered with deep snow, Ledyard collected a party of whom he persuaded to accompany him to the summit a high neighbouring mountain, and there pass the night. The night, as may be supposed, was dreary and sleepless to most of the party, and few were they who did not greet the dawn with gladness. Their leader was alert, prompt at his duty, and pleased with his success. The next day they returned home, all perfectly satisfied, unless it were Ledyard, with this single experiment of their hardihood.
After abandoning his missionary schemes, he began to grow weary of college, and the more so, probably, as his unsettled habits now and then drew a rebuke from the president, from which he determined to escape. On the margin of the Connecticut river, which runs near the college, stood many majestic forest trees. One of these Ledyard contrived to cut down. He then set himself at work to fashion its trunk into a canoe, and in this labour he was assisted by some of his fellowstudents. As the canoe was fifty feet long and three wide, and was to be dug out and constructed by the unskilful workmen, the task was not a trifling one, nor such as could be speedily executed.
It was at last, however, finished and equipped. His wishes were now at their consummation, and biding
adieu to the haunts of the muses, where he had gained a dubious fame, he set off alone, with a light heart, to explore a river, with the navigation of which he had not the slightest acquaintance. The distance to Hartford was not less than one hundred and forty miles, much of the way was through a wilderness, and in several places dangerous falls and rapids. With a bearskin for a covering, and his canoe well stocked with provisions, he yielded himself to the current and floated leisurely down the stream, seldom rising his paddle, and stopping only in the night for sleep. He told Mr. Jefferson, in Paris, fourteen years afterwards, that he took only two books with him, a Greek Testament and Ovid; one of which he was deeply engaged in reading when his canoe approached Below's Falls, where he was suddenly roused by the noise of the water rushing among the rocks through the narrow passage. The danger was imminent, as no boat could go down that fall without being instantly dashed to pieces. With difficulty he gained the shore in time to escape such a catastrophe, and through the kind assistance of the people in the neighbourhood, his canoe was drawn by oxen around the fall. From that time, till he arrived at his place of destination, we hear of no accident, although he was carried through several dangerous passes in the river. On approaching Dartmouth many spectators were attracted by the singularity of his slowly floating bark, and all were conjecturing what it could be, till its questionable shape assumed the true and obvious form of a canoe; but by what impulse it was moved forward none could determine. Something was seen in the stern, but apparently without life or motion. At length the canoe touched the shore; a person sprang from the stern to a rock in the edge of the water, threw off a bearskin in which he had been enveloped, and behold John Ledyard, in the presence of his uncle and connexions, who were among the spectators, and imagined him safe at college.
He next studied regularly for the church; and, again, shortly changed his views, and was about to set up a school. He could not, however, rest still, but entered as a common sailor with Captain Deshon, a friend of his father's, for a voyage to the MediterraAt Gibralter, it would seem, out of a gratuitous love of change, he entered into the British army; but was, presently, released, at Captain Deshon's persuasion and intercession.
After his return to America, he set out upon a romantic expedition to London; to discover some rich relations living there, and gain their friendship and assistance. Some slight doubts were at first thrown upon his identity, which so disgusted him, that he never afterwards would accept of notice or assistance from them of any kind. He said they were not Ledyards.
About this period, Captain Cook was making preparations for his third and last voyage round the world. Nothing could more exactly accord with Ledyard's desires. As a first step towards becoming connected with this expedition, he enlisted in the marine service; and then, by his address, obtained an engagement with Cook, who immediately made him a corporal. While on their voyage he was sent, as a volunteer, to examine a Russian establishment on the coast of Onalaska. He was sent alone, because numbers could not be spared for so hazardous an undertaking. At Otaheite, still a corporal, he conducted an expedition up the peak of Mouna Roa. He was close to Cook's person at the time of his death; and is of the opinion, which has more latterly obtained, that Cook's own obduracy was the cause of his fate. While on board the Resolution, he wrote in a paper, got up among the officers, by whom his writing was considered somewhat florid and sentimental. From the specimens of his writings extant, this objection rather tells against the critics, than the criticized.
His next project was to establish a trade in turs, on the north-west coast of America. He spent a year or two in suffering incredible disappointments, and was ultimately obliged entirely to relinquish his projects. He is another instance of spirited enterprise left to shift for itself, while others profited by his invention. Among the many people who promised him the assistance of their capital, was Faul Jones, the famous captor of the Serapis.
His last disappointment found him in London, where he ultimately modified his views into a plan of travelling by land through the northern regions of Europe and Asia, over Behring's straits to the American continents. This he decided to do on foot. The day before he was on board, Ledyard wrote to Mr. Jefferson in the following animated strain :
"Sir James Hall presented me with twenty guineas pro bono publico. I bought two great dogs, an Indian pipe, and a hatchet. My want of time, as well as of money, will prevent my going any otherwise than indifferently equipped for such an enterprise; but it is certain that I shall be no more in want before I see Virginia. Why should I repine? You know how much I owe the amiable La Fayette. Will you do me the honour to present my most grateful thanks to him? If I find in my travels a mountain as much elevated above other mountains as he is above other men, I will name it La Fayette. I beg the honour, also, of my compliments to Mr. Short, who has been my friend, and who, like the good widow in Scripture, cast in, not only his mite, but more than he was able, for my assistance."
The equipment of two dogs, an Indian pipe, and a
hatchet, it must be confessed, was very scanty for a
Such was unfortunately the condition of the ice, when Ledyard arrived at the usual place of crossing. The only alternative was, either to stay in Stockholm till the spring should open, or to go around the gulf into Lapland, and seek his way from the Arctic Circle to Petersburg, through the whole extent of Finland, He did not deliberate long. New difficulties nerved him with new strength to encounter and subdue them. He set out for Tornea in the heart of winter, on foot, and alone, without money or friends, on a road almost unfrequented at that frightful season, and with the. gloomy certainty resting on his mind, that he must travel northward six hundred miles, before he could turn his steps towards a milder climate, and then six or seven hundred more in descending to Petersburg, on the other side of the Gulf. When Manpertuis and his companions were about leaving Stockholm, on their journey to Tornea, for the purpose of measuring a degree of the meridian under the Polar Circle, the King of Sweden told them, that "it was not without sensible concern, that he saw them pursue so desperate an undertaking;" yet they were prepared with every possible convenience for travelling and protection against a northern winter. A better idea of the degree and effects of cold, at the head of the Gulf, cannot be formed perhaps, than from Manpertuis' description. "The town of Tornea, at our arrival on the thirteenth of December, had really a most frightful aspect. Its little houses were buried to the tops in snow, which if there had been any daylight, must have effectually shut it out. But the snows continually falling, or ready to fall, for the most part hid the sun the few moments that he might have shown himself at mid-day. In the month of January the cold was increased to that extremity, that Reaumur's mercurial thermometer, which, in Paris in the great frost in 1709, it was thought strange to see fall to fourteen degrees below the freezing point, was now down to thirty seven. The spirit of wine in the others was frozen. If we opened the door of a warm room, the external air instantly converted all the air in it into snow, whirling round into white vortexes. If we went abroad, we felt as if the air were tearing our breasts in pieces. And the cracking of the wood, whereof their houses are built, as if the violence of the cold split it continually, alarmed us with an approaching increase of cold. The solitude of the streets was no less than if the inhabitants had been all dead; and in this country you may often see people that have been maimed, and had an arm or a leg frozen off. The cold, which is always very great, increases sometimes by such violent and sudden fits, as are almost infallibly fatal to those that happen to be exposed to it. Sometimes there arise sudden tempests of snow, that are still more dangerous. The winds seem to blow from all quarters at once, and drive about the snow with such fury, that in a moment all the roads are lost. Unhappy he, who is seized by such a storm in the fields. His acquaintance with the country, or the marks he may have taken by the trees, cannot avail him. He is blinded by the snow, and lost if he stirs but a step." Thus he reached Petersburgh. Through innumerable difficulties he succeeded in reaching Yakutsk. There he was seized by order of the empress Catherine, privately examined before an arbitrary tribunal, and eventually conveyed to the frontiers of the country with an intimation that a second intrusion would be his death. We must not dismiss the Russians without extracting a remark of Ledyard's, illustrating the greatest excess of a mean passion that has perhaps been heard of.
The cause of this stretch of power is a mystery: at Yakutsk the officers gave it out that Ledyard was arrested as a French spy; Catherine herself said that she could not permit a man to rush upon the fatal dangers which Ledyard would have encountered. Every circumstance proves these reasons to be too absurd. The most probable reason was a compliance with the jealousy of the Russian Fur Company, who dreaded the appearance of such an enterprising man as Ledyard on the North West coast of America.
"So strong is the propensity of the Russians to jealousy, that they are guilty of the lowest offences on that account. The observation may appear trivial,