Bentley's Miscellany, Volume II

IVSt. Patrick (many days to him!)Thought he kilt all the varminThat through the land did crawl or swim,But he left their cousins-giarmin!He never dreamt of two-legg'd snakes,Or toads that were toad-eathers,Or those dartlukers26 the law makesTo hunt our fellow-crathurs!(Chorus, boys!)Wirra! wirra! wirrasthrue!Isn't Erin's glory,By sword and penOf wicked men,Made a dismal story?"Success, avourneen!" cried the jolly friar,"An' may yir whistle, 'lanna! never tire!Now for a toast, my boys, or sentiment,An' here is one from me with your consent:'A saddle prickly as a porcupine,A pair of breeches like a cobweb fine,High-trottin' horse, and many a mile to go,For him that to ould Ireland proves a foe!'"Miss Biddy Reilly was the siren nextKnock'd down for melody: she seem'd perplext,And said: "Upon my conscience – ralely – now —I – Tommy, sing for me – well, anyhow,I've nothin' new to trate ye with – ""No matther!"(From all parts of the room,) "sing Stoney Batther!"With that she hem'd to clear her pipe, and throughHer bright-red curls her radish fingers drew;Then looking round, and smiling as she look'd,(While many a heart upon her bait she hook'd,)Her ditty once, twice, she commenced too high, —At last she found the key; – then, with a sighLong-drawn and deep, her quivering voice she woke,Which rose and curl'd – ay, gracefully as smokeSeen at a distance – misty-wreathing – dimlyIssuing from some wood-bound cottage chimley.IIn Stoney BattherThere liv'd a man,By trade a hatther,And a good wan:The best of baverHe used to buy;Till a deceiver,Passing by,Said, – "For a crownI'll sell ye this.""Come in," says he,"Let's see what 'tis."II."The finest skin, sir,You ever saw;Without or in, sir,There's not a flaw!No hat or bonnetYou ever made,With gloss upon itOf such a shade!""Then put it down,"The hatther cried;"And here's yir crown,And thanks beside,"IIIBut, oh! what wondherWhen he did findThe wicked plundherThe rogue design'd!"My cat is missin',"(Says he,) "black Min,They've cut yir wizzin, —I've bought yir skin!Of neighbours' cats,"Then wild he swore,"I'll make my hatsFor evermore!"Miss Biddy Reilly ceased her pensive ditty,And, with a look that made his rivals jealous,She call'd upon our hero, who, quite witty,Express'd a hope they would excuse his bellows,As he had lately caught cold in the water,'Stead of an eel that he was lookin' a'ter!A loud horse-laugh first trumpets Darby's praise.Then thus his low bass voice he high did raise Tune– "Young Charly Reilly."IBeside a mountin,Where many a fountin,Beyant all countin',Ran swift and clear,A valley flourish'dThat Nature nourish'd,For she dhuc-a-dhurrish'd27Her last drop there!And said, at partin',To Father Martin,"There's more of art inSome spots of earth;But, by this whiskey,That makes me frisky,In BallaniskyMyself had birth?"IIIn this inclosure,With great composure,And hedge of osier,A cabin grew;And, sweeter in itThan any linnetCould sing, or spinnet,A maiden, too!Her time went gailyBoth night and daily,Till Rodhrick HalyPierc'd thro' her heart:Oh! if he'd spoken,Or giv'n one token,Sure 'twouldn't have brokenWith love's keen dart!IIIShe thought his fancyWas bent on NancyOr Judy Clancy,Two sisthers fair:Though in his bosom,You can't accuse him,But she did strew someLove-nettles there!For all that, neverCould he endeavourHis lip to sever,And say, "Dear Kate!"The lad was bashful,'Caze not being cashful;But she was rashful,As I'll relate.IVOne Sunday mornin',All danger scornin',Without a warnin'She left her home;And to a valleyShe forth did sallyThat lay in Bally-Hinch-a-dhrome!A while she wandher'd —And then she pondher'd —At last she squandher'dHer rason quite;And in a pool there,Like any fool there,She soon did cool thereHer burnin' spite!Our hero ceas'd; and from the multitude  }The suck-tongue sounds of pity that ensued }Would warm a stoic in his coldest mood:}Ducks on a pond, when gobblin' up duck-meat,Ne'er smack'd a music half so sadly sweet!Miss Biddy Reilly's long-lash'd eyes of jetWere red (as rivalling her hair) and wet!Some inward feeling caus'd this outward woe;But what it was but love for Darby, I don't know!But now tay-tay and coffee-tay are done,And of the night begins the raal fun:The dance is nam'd, and straightway on the floorTwo dozen couple start, – I might say more.But Darby interposes, and cries, "Stop!Afore we have a reel let's have a hop:First – boy an' girl; then girl relieve the girl,Next boy the boy, till all round have a whirl!Miss Reilly an' myself will lead the first; —Come, piper! squeeze yir bags until they burst!'Tatther Jack Welsh,' or 'Smash the Windows,' play,'The wind that shakes the barley,' 'Flow'rs in May,'Or any rantin' roarin' lilt ye know:What! 'Ligrum Cuss?' hurroo! then here we go!""He spake: and, to confirm his words," they allSate down obedient in the festive hall!None but himself and Biddy upward stood,All eyes were on them of the multitude!But how shall I describe the wondrous pair,Terpsichore! that worshipp'd thee then there?Such grace, such action, on a malt-house floor,Was never seen or heard of, e'en, before!O'Ryan's arms at stiff right angles toHis body were, which to the gazer's viewBetray'd no motion; while his legs belowSeem'd all St. Vitus' nimblest shakes to know!With knees bent inward, heels turn'd out, and toesThat seem'd contending like two deadly foesFor one small spot of earth, he digg'd the ground,And sent the mortar pulveriz'd around!"Look at his feet!" was the admiring cry;"Hold down the light that we may closely spy:There's double-shuffle for ye! hoo! success!He'd dance upon a penny-piece, or less!"Meanwhile, Miss Reilly, with her hands aside,A varied change of steps and movements plied;Now bold advancing in her partner's face,Now shooting by a side-slip to a placeThe farthest on the floor: – at every turn,As round and graceful as a spinning churn!But, ah! not long was she the dance's queen;For young Kate Duff, who owed her long a spleen,Swift as the lightning from a cloud of gloom,Shot from a dim-lit corner of the room,And sent the frowning Biddy to her seat,Who mutter'd something that I can't repeat!Long Curly next our hero's post relieves,And Kitty Duff gives place to Nelly Reeves:Curly, the piper's son, Ned Joyce, supplants;The blind old father knows his step, and chantsThe lilt with double force: Miss Higgins nextSets down Miss Reeves; Ned Joyce retires, half vext,For Knock-knee'd Phelim, who, despite his pins,Applause from all for heel-and-toeing wins!Thus did they trip it for a goodly hour;When, oh! what charm there is in music's pow'r!Old Joyce the piper seizes a short stayTo change his pipes: – and, what's the merry layThey now lilt up? – 'The Priest in his Boots,' and lo!(Whether 'twas all concerted I don't know,)Fat Widow Higgins, 'midst the general shout,By Father Martin is led waddling out!Oh! how they tramp'd and stamp'd, and flounc'd and bounc'd!A mercy 'twas they trod on the ground-floor,For through a loft they surely would have pounc'd —As 'twas, the earth was trembling to its core:Sure such flochoolah dancers ne'er were seen before!Long Curly next our hero's post relieves,And Kitty Duff gives place to Nelly Reeves:Curly, the piper's son, Ned Joyce, supplants;The blind old father knows his step, and chantsThe lilt with double force: Miss Higgins nextSets down Miss Reeves; Ned Joyce retires, half vext,For Knock-knee'd Phelim, who, despite his pins,Applause from all for heel-and-toeing wins!Thus did they trip it for a goodly hour;When, oh! what charm there is in music's pow'r!Old Joyce the piper seizes a short stayTo change his pipes: – and, what's the merry layThey now lilt up? – 'The Priest in his Boots,' and lo!(Whether 'twas all concerted I don't know,)Fat Widow Higgins, 'midst the general shout,By Father Martin is led waddling out!Oh! how they tramp'd and stamp'd, and flounc'd and bounc'd!A mercy 'twas they trod on the ground-floor,For through a loft they surely would have pounc'd —As 'twas, the earth was trembling to its core:Sure such flochoolah dancers ne'er were seen before!

A FEW ENQUIRIES

Mortal, in thy brief career,Ranger of this nether sphere,Tell me truly, have thine eyesView'd earth's hidden mysteries?Hast thou seen the dark blue sea,Its bosom heaving tranquillyTo the wooing breath of night?Hast thou watch'd the quiv'ring light,Where the silver moonbeams dance,Scattered o'er its broad expanse?Likening the giant deepTo a sobbing child asleep,O'er whose cheeks and visage fairSmiles that wait on infant careChase the tear-drops trickling there?Hast thou ever watch'd that seaRising in its majesty,When its mighty depths are rentBy the rushing element,And its waves exultinglyRevel in their liberty?Hast thou ever, pale with doubt,View'd the fatal waterspout,Or the whirlpool's treach'rous waveLuring seamen to their grave?Hast thou climb'd o'er Alpine snows,When the day is at its close,When the storm its fury spends,And the avalanche descends,Hurling a terrific deathOn the mountaineer beneath?Hast thou on Arabia's soil,Faint with heat, and worn with toil,Bow'd beneath the simoom's blast,Till its deadly breath was past?Hast thou e'er pursued thy way'Neath the red sun's burning ray?And, when hope was almost gone,Has the mirage lured thee onWith its waves that ever flee,And but mock thy misery?Hast thou watch'd the torrent's forceDashing onward in its course,Till, in one tremendous leap,Its waters sink into the deep?Hast thou seen the lava glideDown the steep volcano's side?Hast thou seen the misty lightOf the comet's erring flight?Or the rainbow's azure span,Or the huge leviathan,Or the meteor in the air,Or the lion in his lair,Or the thousand things that beIn the blue depths of the sea?Mortal, in thy brief career,Ranger of this nether sphere,Thou that hast a wand'rer been,Tell me truly, hast thou seenOf fire, ocean, earth, and air,Such things – beautiful and rare?If't has been thine to beholdNature's hidden charms unroll'd,All her features to peruseDeck'd in all their varied hues;If so blest thy lot has been, —Why, what a deal you must have seen!

NIGHTS AT SEA;

Or, Sketches of Naval Life during the War

BY THE OLD SAILORNo. VTHE FRENCH CAPTAIN'S STORY"But, in these cases,We shall have judgment here; that we but teachBloody instructions, which, being taught, returnTo plague the inventor: this even-handed justiceCommends the ingredients of our poisoned chaliceTo our own lips."Macbeth.

We left Lord Eustace Dash in his gallant frigate, with the prize in company, running down into the gulf of Genoa, and a strange sail in sight. His lordship swept the horizon with his glass till his keen eye caught the desired object in the field, and in an instant he was as fixed and stationary as a statue. The moon was rising, and her glorious light shone upon the distant sails, which looked like a silver speck on the dark zone of the horizon. Intense and eager was the gaze of the noble captain, and breathless attention pervaded every individual on the forecastle; even old Savage, the boatswain, suffered his rattan to be motionless, and the tongue of Jack Sheavehole was still. At length Lord Eustace raised himself from his recumbent position; every ear was awaiting the announcement of the stranger's character; the boatswain approached his commander rather nearer than etiquette allowed, so eager was he to obtain the information. "Mr. Sinnitt!" said his lordship, and old Savage opened his mouth as well as his ears to catch all that would be uttered. "Mr. Sinnitt!" repeated his lordship; and, that officer's response being heard, the important communication would next be made. "Mr. Sinnitt, trim sails in chase," said the captain, and walked aft to resume his station near the taffrail.

"Now that's what I calls onprincipled," uttered the boatswain, in a low tone, to his mate: "here we are, rambadgering right down somewhere away to the back of November, in chase of the Flying Dutchman, I supposes: but whether yon's she or not may I be bamfoozled into a kettle-drummer if I know, and the skipper arn't never got the politeness to inform us. Well, the sarvice is going to – "

"Trim sails!" shouted Mr. Sinnitt, from the quarter-deck; and then was heard the twittering of Jack Sheavehole's pipe, and a rattling of ropes as the braces were hauled in, the tacks and sheets arranged, till every square inch of canvass performed its own especial and proper duty. Lord Eustace hailed the Hippolito to continue her course, though the Spankaway should do otherwise; and then rejoined Citizen Captain Begaud, who still retained his position, apparently abstracted from all that was passing around him.

"I have another hour to spare, Monsieur," said his lordship; "your star, as you call it, is certainly none of the brightest to-night, and I own I am desirous of hearing the finish of your narrative. Will you favour me by proceeding?"

"I will, my lord," returned the Frenchman; "and I am the more inclined to do so, from a presentiment that hangs over me that my days – ay, even my hours – are numbered. How, when, or where the fatal blow may be given, or whether by friend or foe, I cannot even conjecture; but still I am convinced of the fact, and wish to disburthen my mind before my departure."

"Such presentiments are unworthy a brave man," said Lord Eustace. "You shall dine with me in Plymouth, Captain Begaud. I fancy you take the loss of your frigate too much to heart, though you may be well excused doing so. You fought her nobly, and that rascally first-lieutenant of yours, merits a hangman's noose, though I have cause to thank him; but, there, d – it! a coward is my utter abhorrence. Come, come, Monsieur! your nation is not proverbial for despondency. You will marry the countess yet, – that is, if she be not already your wife."

A thrilling shudder passed over the Frenchman's frame. "Never, never!" exclaimed he, with startling vehemence, as he covered his eyes with his hands, as if to shut out some terrific vision. "No, no, my lord! – no, – it is past, – it is gone! Ha! ha! ha! – hell itself lends me its laugh whenever I think of it!"

There was something so demoniac and unearthly in the agonised chuckle of the Frenchman, that Lord Eustace turned a penetrating look upon him, as if he actually expected to see the Prince of Evil by his side.

"I had no intention of wounding your feelings, Monsieur, and regret that I have done so," said the generous Englishman.

"I know it; I am well aware of it," responded Begaud. "You will presently judge for yourself. But, to proceed. After my audience with Louis the Sixteenth, the grandson of that wretch whose misdeeds laid the foundation of the revolution; who, if he did not sanction, at least did nothing to prevent the murder of his own son, together with his princess; who broke the heart of his queen, and revelled in abomination – What was the Parc aux Cerfs? – I have seen it, Monsieur; I know it all! – the receptacle for his victims, – mere children, whom he taught to read, and write, and pray; – yet, horrible depravity! he made them the companions of his disgusting orgies! Yes; he would nightly kneel with them, and afterwards carry round the crucifix that they might kiss it; and then selecting – Bah! my soul sickens at the thought of such a monster! my heart swells almost to bursting! The daughter of Madame T – had been there! but I have had my full revenge! Revenge! revenge on whom? Ay, that's the question; it is a hidden mystery! the understanding cannot solve it! the innocent suffer for the guilty!

"After leaving the royal presence, fresh apparel was furnished to me, a chamber and ante-room were set apart for my use, and, on the morrow, I – the sworn enemy to the Bourbons! the outcast, whose parents perished in the fête of 1770! the adorer of the young Countess de M – , who but a few hours before cherished his affection in despair! – I became an attaché to the household of the queen, – though in reality engaged in the confidential service of Monsieur Calonne. Thus both were exposed to my secret scrutiny; my star was in the ascendant! I felt the importance of the part I was called upon to enact; and Fate seemed to be weaving for me a web to catch the royal victims in its trammels!" He drew a convulsive respiration. "I little thought then, that my own soul would be meshed in the snares which were laid for others!

"There was something strange in the unusual reliance which M. Calonne placed upon my fidelity. I was to watch the court party, who flattered whilst they hated the queen; I was especially instructed to notice those who had audience of the king: in fact, I engaged to watch over the interests of my employer by every possible means, fully convinced that by so doing I should be the better able to promote my own. You will say this was a dishonourable occupation, my lord. I grant it; but then, you must remember the bias of my mind, – my oath to Madame T – , (which I considered religiously binding upon my conscience, though she was in all probability numbered with the dead,) – and there was, also, the bewitching felicity of being near to the young countess, whom my very soul ardently adored.

"The courtiers had raised Calonne from comparative obscurity to the high and important office which he held; but this they did to suit their own purposes, not to forward his. But the wily minister soon ascertained that his position would be scarcely tenable, unless by some bold stroke the chances should turn in his favour; or else, by rendering the profligacy of the aristocracy so odious to the people, – especially the middle classes, – that he might fall back upon the latter, and become their leader. Economy had been the object of his predecessors, Neckar and Turgot; but Calonne started a new theory, which he followed up with avidity, – namely, that profusion best contributed to, and formed, the wealth of a state. Paradoxical as this most certainly was, the courtiers could not, or would not, see through it. They hailed the absurdity with the utmost applause, and henceforth extravagant profusion became the order of the day, and soon degenerated into the very extremes of profligacy. The aristocracy delighted in this, for they bore none of the burthens; and history will perhaps record that Calonne acted with self-conceit and ignorance. He did no such thing, my lord; he saw that Neckar, by creating provincial assemblies, had laid the first stone of a republican form of government; that the middle classes, though by far the least in numerical strength, had thereby acquired an influence it was impossible to control; and therefore, as I said before, he endeavoured to take advantage of events as they stood, so as to cajole one party whilst he negociated with the other. Loans were raised to meet the expenditure, and thus the burthens of the people were increased, the revenue of four hundred millions of francs was exceeded by at least one hundred and fifty millions. Complaints, though not loud, were deep. La Fayette was the leader of the popular cause. He advocated the rights of human nature, and he was looked up to, with reverence and esteem. He demanded the convocation of a representative assembly, and M. Calonne secretly encouraged this demand, that he might be the better enabled to enforce his schemes upon the nobility for the payment of the deficit.

"In this emergency, and the more securely to carry out his plans, the minister proposed to assemble the chiefs of the privileged orders, – the Notables: they met at Versailles; Calonne explained the financial state of the nation, declared the amount of his deficit, and suggested the necessity of equalising the taxes, and levying them alike on the noblesse and the clergy, as well as on the commonalty. Need I say how distasteful this was to the individuals he addressed? Need I describe their violent opposition to the proposal, and their determination to crush the man who had the hardihood to bring it before them? His enemies were numerous. The pretended friends, who had elevated him to power to suit their own nefarious arrangements, now united with his avowed foes; whilst the defalcation brought him into disrepute with the middle classes, and every engine was set at work to effect his overthrow. The press, the clergy, and the noblesse took the lead; and the fate of Calonne seemed to be fully decided upon. But, under a show of ostentatious vanity and inflated ambition, the minister concealed consummate penetration and skilful tactics. If the Notables had acceded to his wishes, his end would be answered, and himself continued in power; if they refused, they involved themselves in an odium which would have due weight with the adherents of La Fayette, and to them he hoped to be enabled to look for support when the court should fail him.

"I have been minute, my lord, in these particulars, that you may the better understand what has yet to come, for it was about this time that I made my engagement to serve Calonne; and I was not long in ascertaining that, though apparently the superficial prodigal, and the frivolous man of fashion, there was yet an energetic boldness about him that would, if thwarted in his views, urge him to some deed of desperation. In most instances he behaved to me with the utmost familiarity; but I strongly suspected that, through some secret agency of which I was held in ignorance, he kept up a communication with the disaffected amongst the middle orders; nor was it long before the fact was fully revealed to me, for the individual who had been the accustomed means of correspondence was seized with sudden illness, and negociations were for a time suspended. It was an anxious and trying period for the minister; he stood upon a pinnacle from which a powerful party were concentrating all their force to hurl him, whilst the illness of the agent had separated him from those who, proud in their republicanism, would not of themselves seek him, and yet it was from them alone that he now anticipated succour.

"In his extremity Calonne fixed his attention upon me, and openly and frankly did he communicate his wishes: his pleasing address and fascinating manners were at first, however, vainly brought into play; I suffered them to make but little impression on my mind. To quit the court, – where I was in great favour with her majesty, – and to leave the presence of her whom my soul so ardently worshipped, seemed to be a sacrifice of such magnitude, that I felt I had not the resolution to make it, and therefore I respectfully declined. 'Such, then, is your resolve?' said the minister. I bowed acquiescence. 'I shall not ask your reasons,' continued he, with a smile of mingling scorn and pride, 'they are well known to me; but it is right that you should correctly know the situation in which you are placed. Who has been the architect of your present prosperity? Mark, young man! the hand that raised the structure can also prostrate it to the dust. I have entrusted too much to your keeping, not to make the depository safe. It is true, I have found you faithful; but, if it had been otherwise – ' He paused for a moment, and then rapidly added, 'Young man, there is such a place as the Bastille! there is such an instrument of execution as the guillotine!' I smiled in defiance, for threats never produced any other feeling in me. He observed it, and added, 'It is well your personal courage prompts you to surmount all apprehensions of either, and induces you to brave the worst; but reflect!' and his keen eye was fixed upon me: 'the former would prove a delightful bower for a love-sick youth; there you may in heavy fetters deplore the harshness of fortune, and curse the hour that saw you recklessly rend asunder the rosy bonds of Cupid for the iron safeguards of a stern gailor.' He saw he had touched me, though I strove to conceal all emotion; and he went on. 'But what will become of the lovely being whom you worship? Amidst the gaiety and licentiousness of a court she will soon forget the child of fortune – Jacques Begaud! and, though I believe she is not altogether insensible to your merits, yet the memory of ladies is as evanescent as a flower, it soon fades away; and other arms will enfold that loveliness in their embrace! some other head will be pillowed on that fair bosom! another – ' 'Hold!' exclaimed I, affecting an indifference, from a hope that the secret of my affection was still secure within my own keeping; 'hold, Monsieur! you are coming to conclusions before you are aware that you have the slightest ground for them. I am yet free from – ' 'It is now my turn to cry 'hold!'' said he, interrupting me, and that, too, in a voice and manner that betokened his full sense of the advantage he had obtained; 'do you imagine, Jacques, that one so well versed in the workings of human nature as myself can be easily deceived? Your love for the young Countess de M – ! Ay, that flush of the cheek becomes you! I have seen it before, young man! Those flashing eyes are traitors to your confidence! they revealed it to me from the first moment of your entering the royal closet! Your wandering in the forest, – the eagerness with which you complied with my request to attend me to the château, – the delight you manifested when first within the walls of the palace, – all these I knew must have some actuating motive; nor was I long in discovering it. Subsequent occurrences have confirmed my penetration, and – ' 'You have not been over-generously employed, Monsieur,' said I, somewhat humbled. – 'Young man,' 'returned he, 'bear witness by your own feelings that self-interest is the governing principle of our actions. Circumstanced as I was, I deemed it necessary to ensure your services through a more powerful sentiment than mere gratitude to Monsieur Calonne, and the sequel shows that I am right. I might command,' continued he proudly, 'and fear no denial; but I solicit,' he added mildly, and with a smile; 'will you refuse me, Jacques?' – 'You do me too much honour, Monsieur,' responded I, fully aware that further subterfuge would be useless; 'I own I love the countess.' – 'And what hope have you of making her your own, Jacques Begaud?' inquired he eagerly, but in a tone of mournful commiseration. 'What hope can you have? Etiquette imposes an impassable barrier between you; what, then, can break it down?' He paused, and a vague sense of his meaning crossed my mind. 'What,' continued he, – 'what I ask you is to annihilate all obstacles, and unite two hearts that fervently affect each other?' I remained silent. 'To show that I trust you, Jacques, I will answer my own question. Popular feeling, – the popular voice, – La Fayette, – and the representative assembly, – liberty and equality! do you understand me now?' – 'I do,' returned I; and, oh! how often have those very words 'liberty and equality' rung in my ears since then! they seemed a prophetic intimation of events that afterwards occurred. I own that I was not really inimical to his proposal, for my pledge to my injured relative, and my inherent detestation of monarchy, still retained a powerful influence over my mind; but I wished, by withholding my acquiescence for a time, to enhance the value of compliance. How hazardous it is for inexperience to endeavour to cope with long-practised subtlety! Monsieur Calonne had read my inmost heart, whilst I foolishly imagined it was a sealed book! he played a skilful game, and at length, without quitting the court, (which soon returned to Versailles,) I became the creature of his will.