Графични страници
PDF файл
ePub

covey whirrs off, unharmed in a single feather-and poor Ponto, remembering better days, cannot conceal his melancholy, falls in at his master's heel, and will hunt no more. Out, as usual, comes the brandy bottle-he is still a good shot when his mouth is the mark -and having emptied the fatal flask, he staggers homewards, with the muzzle of his double-barrel frequently pointed to his ear, both being on full cock, and his brains not blown out only by a miracle.

of a stick by the knife of a schoolboy-rough and hot to the very eye, -a nose which, rather than pull, you would submit even to be in some degree insulted. A perpetual cough harasses and exhausts him, and a perpetual expectoration. How his hand trembles! It is an effort even to sign his name; one of his sides is certainly not by any means as sound as the other; there has been a touch of palsy there; and the next hint will draw down his chin to his collar He tries to read the newspabone, and convert him, a month before dissolution, into a slavering idiot. per-just arrived-but cannot find There is no occupation, small or his spectacles. Then, by way of vagreat, insignificant or important, to riety, he attempts a tune on the fidwhich he can turn, for any length of dle-but the bridge is broken, and time, his hand, his heart, or his head. her side cracked, and the bass-string He cannot angle-for his fingers re- snapped-and she is restored to her fuse to tie a knot, much more to busk peg among the cobwebs. To cona fly. The glimmer and the glow of clude the day worthily and consistthe stream would make his brain ently, he squelches himself down dizzy-to wet his feet now would, among the reprobate crew, takes his he fears, be death. Yet he thinks turn at smutty jest and smuttier song, that he will go out-during that sun-falls back insensible, exposed to ny blink of a showery day-and try the well-known pool in which he used to bathe in boyhood, with the long, matted, green, trailing waterplants depending on the slippery rocks, and the water-ouzel gliding from beneath the arch that hides her procreant cradle," and then sinking like a stone suddenly in the limpid stream. He sits down on the bank, and fumbling in his pouch for his pocket-book, brings out, instead, a pocket-pistol. Turning his fiery face towards the mild, blue, vernal sky, he pours the gurgling brandy down his throat-first one dose, and then another-till, in an hour, stupified and dazed, he sees not the silvery crimson-spotted trouts, shooting, and leaping, and tumbling, and plunging in deep and shallow. Or, if it be autumn or winter, he calls, perhaps, with a voice at once gruff and feeble, on old Ponto, and will take a pluff at the partridges. In former days, down they used to go, right and left, in potatoe or turnip-field, broomy brae or stubble-but now his sight is dim and wavering, and his touch trembles on the trigger. The

[ocr errors]

a

and

gross and indecent practical jokes
from the vilest of the uuhanged—
and finally is carried to bed on
hand-barrow, with hanging head and
heels, and, with glazed eyes
lolling tongue, is tumbled upon the
quilt-if ever to awake it is extreme-
ly doubtful ;—but if awake he do, it
is to the same wretched round of
brutal degradation-a career, of
which the inevitable close is an un-
friended deathbed and a pauper's
grave. O hero! six feet high, and
with a brawn once like Hercules-
in the prime of life, too-well born
and well bred-once bearing with
honour the king's commission; and
on that glorious morn, now forgotten,
or bitterly remembered, undaunted
leader of the forlorn-hope that mount-
ed the breach at Badajos—is that a
death worthy of a man-a soldier-
A dram-drinker!
and a Christian ?
Look over-lean
Faugh! faugh!
over that stile, where a pig lies wal-
lowing in mire-and a voice, faint,
and feeble, and far off, as if it came
from some dim and remote world
within your lost soul, will cry, that of
the two beasts, that bristly one,

agrunt in sensual sleep, with its snout snoring across the husk-trough, is, as a physical, moral, and intellectual being, superior to you, late Major in his Majesty's regiment of foot, now dram-drinker, drunkard, and dotard, and self-doomed to a disgraceful and disgusting death ere you shall have completed your thirtieth year. What a changed thing since that day when you carried the colors, and were found, the bravest of the brave, and the most beautiful of the beautiful, with the glorious tatters wrapped round your body all drenched in blood, your hand grasping the broken sabre, and two grim Frenchmen lying hacked and hewed at your feet! Your father and your mother saw your name in the "Great Lord's" Despatch; and it was as much as he could do to keep her from falling on the floor, for "her joy was like a deep affright!" Both are dead now; and better so, for the sight of that blotched face and those glazed eyes, now and then glittering in fitful frenzy, would have killed them both, nor, after such a spectacle, could their old bones have rested in the grave.

Let any one who has had much experience of life, look back upon the ranks of his friends, companions, acquaintances, and persons whom he knew but by name-or not even by name—although he had become informed of something of their habits and history. How many drunkards among them have drunk themselves to death, and, before their natural term, disappeared-first into disgraceful retirement in some far-off hut, and then into some church-yard apart from the bones of kindred !

But these are not, bad as they are, by any means the worst cases. Scotland-ay, well-educated, moral, religious Scotland, can show, in the bosom of her bonny banks and braes, cases worse than these; at which, if there be tears in heaven," the angels weep."

Look at that grey-headed man, of threescore and upwards, sitting by the way-side! He was once an Elder of the Kirk, and a pious man he was, if ever piety adorned

25 ATHENEUM, VOL. 9, 2d series.

the temples," the lyart haffets, wearing thin and bare," of a Scottish peasant. What eye beheld the many hundred steps, that, one by one, with imperceptible gradation, led him down-down-down to the lowest depths of shame, suffering, and ruin? For years before it was bruited abroad through the parish, that Gabriel Mason was addicted to drink, his wife used to sit weeping alone in the spence, when her sons and daughters were out at their work in the fields, and the infatuated man, fierce in the excitement of raw ardent spirits, kept causelessly raging and storming through every nook of that once so peaceful tenement, which for many happy years had never been disturbed by the loud voice of anger or reproach. His eyes were seldom turned on his unhappy wife, except with a sullen scowl, or fiery wrath; but when they did look on her with kindness, there was also a rueful self-upbraiding in the expression of his eyes, on account of his cruelty ; and at sight of such transitory tenderness, her heart overflowed with forgiving affection, and her sunk eyes with unendurable tears. But neither domestic sin nor domestic sorrow will conceal from the eyes and the ears of men; and at last Gabriel Mason's name was a byword in the mouth of the scoffer. One Sabbath he entered the kirk, in a state of miserable abandonment, and from that day he was no longer an elder. To regain his character seemed to him, in his desperation, beyond the power of man, and against the decree of God.

His

So, he delivered himself up, like a slave, to that one appetite, and in a few years his whole household had gone to destruction. wife was a matron, almost in the prime of life, when she died; but as she kept wearing away to the other world, her face told that she felt her years had been too many in this. Her eldest son, unable, in pride and shame, to lift up his eyes at kirk or market, went away to the city, and enlisted into a regiment about to embark on foreign service.

His two

202

Origin of Dean Swift's Meditations upon a Broomstick.

sisters went to take farewell of him,
but never returned; one, it is said,
having died of a fever in the Infirma-
ry, just as if she had been a pauper;
and the other-for the sight of sin,
and sorrow, and shame, and suffering,
is ruinous-gave herself up, in her
beauty, an easy prey to a destroyer,
and doubtless has run her course of
agonies, and is now no more. The
rest of the family dropped down, one
by one, out of sight, into inferior
situations in far-off places; but there
was a curse, it was thought, hanging
over the family, and of none of them
did ever a favourable report come to
their native parish; while he, the in-
fatuated sinner, whose vice seemed
to have worked all the woe, remained
in the chains of his tyrannical pas
sion, nor seemed ever, for more than
the short term of a day, to cease
hugging them to his heart. Sem-
blance of all that is most venerable in
the character of Scotland's peasant-
Image of a perfect patriarch,
walking out to meditate at even-tide!
What a noble forehead! Features
how high, dignified, and composed!
There, sitting in the shade of that
old way-side tree, he seems some re-
ligious missionary, travelling to and
fro over the face of the earth, seek-
ing out sin and sorrow, that he may
tame them under the word of God,
and change their very being into
piety and peace.
Call him not a
hoary hypocrite, for he cannot help
that noble--that venerable--that
apostolic aspect-that dignified fig-
ure, as if bent gently by Time loath
to touch it with too heavy a hand-
that holy sprinkling over his furrow-
ed temples, of the silver-soft, and the
snow-white hair-these are the gifts

ry!

of gracious Nature all-and Nature will not reclaim them, but in the tomb. That is Gabriel Mason—the Drunkard! And in an hour you may, if your eyes can bear the sight, see and hear him staggering up and down the village, cursing, swearing, preaching, praying,—-stoned by blackguard boys and girls, who hound all the dogs and curs at his heels, till, taking refuge in the smithy or the pot-house, he becomes the sport of grown clowns, and after much idiot laughter, ruefully mingled with sighs, and groans, and tears, he is suffered to mount upon a table, and urged, perhaps, by reckless folly, to give out a text from the Bible, which is nearly all engraven on his memory, so much and so many other things effaced for ever-and there, like a wild Itinerant, he stammers forth unintentional blasphemy, till the liquor he has been allowed or instigated to swallow, smites him suddenly senseless, and, falling down, he is huddled off into a corner of some lumber-room, and left to sleep, -better far, for one so pitiably miserable, were it to everlasting death!

From such imperfect pictures we return with satisfaction to the Treatise. The chapter "On the Pathology of Drunkenness" is one of the most striking in this singularly able work. Among the consequences

of drunkenness which the author has here given, are many of the most painful diseases which flesh is heir to.

We have room only to add, that to those who stand in need of advice and warning, Mr. M.'s Treatise is worth a hundred sermons. As a literary composition, its merits are very high.

ORIGIN OF DEAN SWIFT'S MEDITATIONS UPON A BROOMSTICK.

S WIFT was in the habit of going

to visit Lady Berkeley, his patron's consort. She was a great admirer of 66 Boyle's Pious Meditations," and used often to request the Dean to read aloud some portion

from them. Such occupation, however, was too little congenial with the Dean's humour, and soon he resolved to revenge himself upon Boyle for the irksome task thus imposed upon him. In short, he wrote a pa

rody upon him, which he got printed, and entitled "Meditations upon a Broomstick." This he sewed into the copy of Boyle from which her Ladyship was accustomed to read. It was exactly the same paper, type, and so ingeniously inserted, that no one was likely to conjecture the deceit. So, the next time, he opened the book at the "Meditations upon a Broomstick," which, with a very grave countenance, he read aloud. Lady." No jesting, if you please, Mr. Dean, upon so grave a subject." Swift.-"Jesting! I vow, my Lady, I read it as I find it,-here it is Meditations upon a Broomstick.'

Lady." So it is-upon my word, it is a Meditation upon a Broomstick.' What a singular subject But let us see; Boyle is so full of ideas, that I am persuaded he will make it extremely edifying, though it looks so odd."

whatever he touches he turns to gold." The Dean, preserving his gravity, made signs of assent, as if he quite agreed with her Ladyship, and then took his leave. In the evening her Ladyship had a party, and one of the first topics started was Boyle's excellent " Meditations upon a Broomstick." Some of the company began to laugh.

"You may laugh," exclaimed her Ladyship, "but I am astonished you should not have heard of it; it is quite worthy the pen of this great moralist." Others, however, ventured to question its existence; when her Ladyship, in triumph, points out the part, which they saw sure enough. "Have I convinced you, gentlemen; I see you are quite confounded: but to tell you the truth, so was I at first. Indeed, I should still have been ignorant of the fact, but for Mr. Dean Swift, who was so good as to point it out to me, only to-day." "What!” cried some of the par

66

With great gravity, Swift proceeded to read a very original compari- ty, was it Swift? this is one of his son between a broomstick and man, tricks then, let us have another copy and contrasting the destiny of man- of Boyle. They went and looked, kind with that of the broomstick: and looked, but no "Meditation upon "This stick," he continued, in a soa Broomstick" was to be found it lemn tone, "this stick, that you see was plain that the whole had been thrown thus ignominiously into a cor- interpolated. The lady concealed her ner, was once flourishing in the chagrin ; but, henceforth, she never woods," &c. &c. "Oh, excellent imposed upon the author of "GulliBoyle!" exclaimed her Ladyship, ver" the reading of these edifying "how admirably he has drawn the lectures. And this was what he moral from so trifling a subject. But wanted.

[merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

he was in Paris, and his residence known. "Let us lose no time, Sir," exclaimed the eager and expectant merchant, in the fear he should escape. "Do not alarm yourself," said the other; "he is strictly watched, and is even associated with the Police." "I shall in stantly hasten for an order of arrest from the Procureur du Roi," continued the merchant, in preparing to depart. "Not quite so hasty, if you please," replied the apathetic officer; that you will obtain the order you propose, I pretend not to deny; or that it will be imperative on me to show it obedience; but you will decidedly defeat your object; and the man you seek will be unattainable." "I do not understand you, Sir." "Listen for a moment, and I shall explain the matter. My responsibility as a police-officer is great, and extends to the interests of the community in general. I require many hands, and the means accorded me of satisfying them are trifling; yet if I do not pay well I shall want assistance; and if they whom I employ can gain more on their own account than in executing my orders, it would be impossible for me to act. I therefore, of necessity, conform to the long established usages of my department. A criminal, you may be aware, is ever upon the alarm; but so long as he is not directly and publicly charged with a particular offence, I accept a compromise with him; and he pays me in return a monthly sum, which goes to the remuneration of my subalterns. The very man in question relies at this

moment upon the faith of our treaty, assured of not being molested until I have special orders regarding him. In that event, I am bound in honour to advise him that our agreement is at an end, and that he must look to his own safety. He will then use his best attempts to escape, and I to entrap him. The person you inquire for is in the situation I have mentioned; and, if you will follow any counsel, before you proceed judicially, you had better try conciliatory measures. I shall direct him to be to-morrow, at a certain hour, in the Rue Monconseil, and you will meet him there. Two of my men shall be near you for your protection. You will enter into an explanation with the robber; and I shall be greatly surprised if, after the hints I shall convey to him, you do not come to a satisfactory arrangement in respect to the stolen property."

The interview took place as proposed, and an amicable agreement was entered into. The merchant, when well assured of restitution, presented the officer with a sum far iuferior to what the expense of prosecution

on his part would have amounted to; while, even in the latter case, justice might have been probably better satisfied by the result than the merchant himself.

This circumstance, which but recently occurred, and on the truth of which implicit reliance may be placed, tends to prove that the Police (of Paris at least) is less devoid of information respecting the authors of crimes, than it is deficient in zeal, activity, and disinterestedness.

THE IRISH BAR.

VARIETIES.

large professional dinner given by LORD Avonmore was subject to Mr. Bushe,) Curran, who was sitting

perpetual fits of absence, and was frequently insensible to the conversation that was going on. He was once wrapped in one of his wonted reveries; and, not hearing one syllable of what was passing, (it was at a

next to his lordship, having been called on for a toast, gave "All our absent friends," patting, at the same time, Lord Avonmore on the shoul der, and telling him that they had just drunk his health. Quite uncon

« ПредишнаНапред »