The Complete Poems of Sir Thomas Moore Part 253

But much it vext my Lord to find, That, while all else obeyed his will, The Fire these Ghebers left behind, Do what he would, kept burning still.

Fiercely he stormed, as if his frown Could scare the bright insurgent down; But, no--such fires are headstrong things, And care not much for Lords or Kings.

Scarce could his Lordship well contrive The flashes in _one_ place to smother, Before--hey presto!--all alive, They sprung up freshly in another.

At length when, spite of prayers and d.a.m.ns, 'Twas found the st.u.r.dy flame defied him, His stewards came, with low _salams_, Offering, by _contract_, to provide him Some large Extinguishers, (a plan, Much used, they said, at Ispahan, Vienna, Petersburg--in short, Wherever Light's forbid at court), Machines no Lord should be without, Which would at once put promptly out All kinds of fires,--from staring, stark Volcanoes to the tiniest spark; Till all things slept as dull and dark, As in a great Lord's neighborhood 'Twas right and fitting all things should.

Accordingly, some large supplies Of these Extinguishers were furnisht (All of the true Imperial size), And there, in rows, stood black and burnisht, Ready, where'er a gleam but shone Of light or fire, to be clapt on.

But ah! how lordly wisdom errs, In trusting to extinguishers!

One day, when he had left all sure, (At least, so thought he) dark, secure-- The flame, at all its exits, entries, Obstructed to his heart's content, And black extinguishers, like sentries, Placed over every dangerous vent-- Ye G.o.ds, imagine his amaze, His wrath, his rage, when, on returning, He found not only the old blaze, Brisk as before, crackling and burning,-- Not only new, young conflagrations, Popping up round in various stations-- But still more awful, strange and dire, The Extinguishers themselves on fire!![1]

They, they--those trusty, blind machines His Lordship had so long been praising, As, under Providence, the means Of keeping down all lawless blazing, Were now, themselves--alas, too true, The shameful fact--turned blazers too, And by a change as odd as cruel Instead of dampers, served for fuel!

Thus, of his only hope bereft, "What," said the great man, "must be done?"-- All that, in sc.r.a.pes like this, is left To great men is--to cut and run.

So run he did; while to their grounds, The banisht Ghebers blest returned; And, tho' their Fire had broke its bounds, And all abroad now wildly burned, Yet well could they, who loved the flame, Its wandering, its excess reclaim; And soon another, fairer Dome Arose to be its sacred home, Where, cherisht, guarded, not confined, The living glory dwelt inshrined, And, shedding l.u.s.tre strong, but even, Tho' born of earth, grew worthy heaven.

MORAL.

The moral hence my Muse infers Is, that such Lords are simple elves, In trusting to Extinguishers, That are combustible themselves.

[1] The idea of this Fable was caught from one of those brilliant _mots_, which abound in the conversation of my friend, the author of the "Letters to Julia,"--a production which contains some of the happiest specimens of playful poetry that have appeared in this or any age.

FABLE VIII.

LOUIS FOURTEENTH'S WIG.

The money raised--the army ready-- Drums beating, and the Royal Neddy Valiantly braying in the van, To the old tune "_"Eh, eh, Sire ane_!"[1]-- Naught wanting, but some _coup_ dramatic, To make French _sentiment_ explode, Bring in, at once, the _gout_ fanatic, And make the war "_la derniere mode_"-- Instantly, at the _Pavillon Marsan_, Is held an Ultra consultation-- What's to be done, to help the farce on?

What stage-effect, what decoration, To make this beauteous France forget, In one, grand, glorious _pirouette_, All she had sworn to but last week, And, with a cry of _Magnifique_!"

Rush forth to this, or _any_ war, Without inquiring once--"What for?"

After some plans proposed by each.

Lord Chateaubriand made a speech, (Quoting, to show what men's rights are, Or rather what men's rights _should be_, From Hobbes, Lord Castlereagh, the Tsar, And other friends to Liberty,) Wherein he--having first protested 'Gainst humoring the mob--suggested (As the most high-bred plan he saw For giving the new War _eclat_) A grand, Baptismal Melo-drame, To be got up at Notre Dame, In which the Duke (who, bless his Highness!

Had by his _hilt_ acquired such fame, 'Twas hoped that he as little shyness Would show, when to _the point_ he came,) Should, for his deeds so lion-hearted, Be christened _Hero_, ere he started; With power, by Royal Ordonnance, To bear that name--at least in France.

Himself--the Viscount Chateaubriand-- (To help the affair with more _esprit_ on) Offering, for this baptismal rite, Some of his own famed Jordan water[2]-- (Marie Louise not having quite Used all that, for young Nap, he brought her.) The baptism, in _this_ case, to be Applied to that extremity, Which Bourbon heroes most expose; And which (as well all Europe knows) Happens to be, in this Defender Of the true Faith, extremely tender.

Or if (the Viscount said) this scheme Too rash and premature should seem-- If thus discounting heroes, _on_ tick-- This glory, by antic.i.p.ation, Was too much in the _genre romantique_ For such a highly cla.s.sic nation, He begged to say, the Abyssinians A practice had in their dominions, Which, if at Paris got up well.

In full _costume_, was sure to tell.

At all great epochs, good or ill, They have, says BRUCE (and BRUCE ne'er budges From the strict truth), a Grand Quadrille In public danced by the Twelve Judges[3]-- And he a.s.sures us, the grimaces, The _entre-chats_, the airs and graces Of dancers, so profound and stately, Divert the Abyssinians greatly.

"Now (said the Viscount), there's but few "Great Empires where this plan would do: "For instance, England;--let them take "What pains they would--'twere vain to strive-- "The twelve stiff Judges there would make "The worst Quadrille-set now alive.

"One must have seen them, ere one could "Imagine properly JUDGE WOOD, "Performing, in hie wig, so gayly, "A _queue-de chat_ with JUSTICE BAILLY!

"_French_ Judges, tho', are, by no means, "This sort of stiff, be-wigged machines; "And we, who've seen them at _Saumur_ "And _Poitiers_ lately, may be sure "They'd dance quadrilles or anything, "That would be pleasing to the King-- "Nay, stand upon their heads, and more do, "To please the little Duc de Bordeaux!"

After these several schemes there came Some others--needless now to name, Since that, which Monsieur planned, himself, Soon doomed all others to the shelf, And was received _par acclamation_ As truly worthy the _Grande Nation_.

It seems (as Monsieur told the story) That LOUIS the Fourteenth,--that glory, That _Coryphee_ of all crowned pates,-- That pink of the Legitimates-- Had, when, with many a pious prayer, he Bequeathed unto the Virgin Mary His marriage deeds, and _cordon bleu_, Bequeathed to her his State Wig too-- (An offering which, at Court, 'tis thought, The Virgin values as she ought)-- That Wig, the wonder of all eyes, The Cynosure of Gallia's skies, To watch and tend whose curls adored, Re-build its towering roof, when flat, And round its rumpled base, a Board Of sixty barbers daily sat, With Subs, on State-Days, to a.s.sist, Well pensioned from the Civil List:-- That wondrous Wig, arrayed in which, And formed alike to awe or witch.

He beat all other heirs of crowns, In taking mistresses and towns, Requiring but a shot at _one_, A smile at _t'other_, and 'twas done!--

"That Wig" (said Monsieur, while his brow Rose proudly,) "is existing now;-- "That Grand Perruque, amid the fall "Of every other Royal glory, "With curls erect survives them all, "And tells in every hair their story.

"Think, think, how welcome at this time "A relic, so beloved, sublime!

"What worthier standard of the Cause "Of Kingly Right can France demand?

"Or who among our ranks can pause "To guard it, while a curl shall stand?

"Behold, my friends"--(while thus he cried, A curtain, which concealed this pride Of Princely Wigs was drawn aside) "Behold that grand Perruque--how big "With recollections for the world-- "For France--for us--Great Louis's Wig, "By HIPPOLYTE new frizzed and curled-- "_New frizzed_! alas, 'tis but too true, "Well may you start at that word _new_-- "But such the sacrifice, my friends, "The Imperial Cossack recommends; "Thinking such small concessions sage, "To meet the spirit of the age, "And do what best that spirit flatters, "In Wigs--if not in weightier matters.

"Wherefore to please the Tsar, and show "That _we_ too, much-wronged Bourbons, know "What liberalism in Monarchs is, "We have conceded the New Friz!

"Thus armed, ye gallant Ultras, say, "Can men, can Frenchmen, fear the fray?

"With this proud relic in our van, "And D'ANGOULEME our worthy leader, "Let rebel Spain do all she can, "Let recreant England arm and feed her,-- "Urged by that pupil of HUNT'S school, "That Radical, Lord LIVERPOOL-- "France can have naught to fear--far from it-- "When once astounded Europe sees "The Wig of LOUIS, like a Comet, "Streaming above the Pyrenees, "All's o'er with Spain--then on, my sons, "On, my incomparable Duke, "And, shouting for the Holy Ones, "Cry _Vive la Guerre--et la Perrugue!"_

[1] They celebrated in the dark ages, at many churches, particularly at Rouen, what was called the Feast of the a.s.s. On this occasion the a.s.s, finely drest, was brought before the altar, and they sung before him this elegant anthem, "_Eh, eh, eh, Sire ane, eh, eh, eh. Sire ane_."-- WARTEN'S Essay on Pope.

[2] Brought from the river Jordan by M. Chateaubriand, and presented to the French Empress for the christening of young Napoleon.

[3] "On certain great occasions, the twelve Judges (who are generally between sixty and seventy years of age) sing the song and dance the figure-dance," etc.--Book. v.

THE FUDGE FAMILY IN PARIS.

_Le Leggi della Maschera richiedono che una persona mascherata non sia salutata per nome da uno che la conosce malgrado il suo travestimento_.

CASTIGLIONE.

PREFACE.

In what manner the following Epistles came into my hands, it is not necessary for the public to know. It will be seen by Mr. FUDGE'S Second Letter, that he is one of those gentlemen whose _Secret Services_ in Ireland, under the mild ministry of my Lord CASTLEREAGH, have been so amply and gratefully remunerated. Like his friend and a.s.sociate, THOMAS REYNOLDS, Esq., he had retired upon the reward of his honest industry; but has lately been induced to appear again in active life, and superintend the training of that _Delatorian Cohort_ which Lord SIDMOUTH, in his wisdom and benevolence, has organized.

Whether Mr. FUDGE, himself, has yet made any discoveries, does not appear from the following pages. But much may be expected from a person of his zeal and sagacity, and, indeed, to _him_, Lord SIDMOUTH, and the Greenland-bound ships, the eyes of all lovers of _discoveries_ are now most anxiously directed.

I regret much that I have been obliged to omit Mr. BOB FUDGE'S Third Letter, concluding the adventures of his Day with the Dinner, Opera, etc.; --but, in consequence of some remarks upon Marinette's thin drapery, which, it was thought, might give offence to certain well-meaning persons, the ma.n.u.script was sent back to Paris for his revision and had not returned when the last sheet was put to press.

It will not, I hope, be thought presumptuous, if I take this opportunity of complaining of a very serious injustice I have suffered from the public. Dr. KING wrote a treatise to prove that BENTLEY "was not the author of his own book," and a similar absurdity has been a.s.serted of _me_, in almost all the best-informed literary circles. With the name of the real author staring them in the face, they have yet persisted in attributing my works to other people; and the fame of the "Twopenny Post- Bag"--such as it is--having hovered doubtfully over various persons, has at last settled upon the head of a certain little gentleman, who wears it, I understand, as complacently as if it actually belonged to him.

I can only add, that if any lady or gentleman, curious in such matters, will take the trouble of calling at my lodgings, 245 Piccadilly, I shall have the honor of a.s.suring them, _in propria persona_, that I am--his, or her,

Very obedient and very humble Servant,

_April_ 17, 1818.