Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

speculative philosophy, which they had begun to cultivate, seemed to threaten a speedy diminution of their fervent attachment to that which was peculiarly their own. This mischievous tendency was stopped by a peasant, and the noblest of his land are the debtors of his genius. He revived the spark that was about to be extinguished and taught men to reverence with increasing homage, that enthusiasm of which they were beginning to be ashamed. The levity of many of his descriptions, the coarseness of many of his images, cannot conceal from our eyes the sincerity with which, at the bottom of his heart, this man was the worshipper of the pure genius of his country. The improprieties are superficial, the excellence is ever deep.-The man might be guilty in his own person of pernicious trespasses, but his soul came back, like a dove, to repose amidst images of purity. The chaste and lowly affection of the village maiden was the only love that appeared worthy in his eyes, as he wandered beneath the virgin radiance of the harvest moon. In the haunts of the dissolute, the atmosphere of corruption might seize upon him, and taint his breath with the coldness of its derision; but he returned to right thoughts in the contemplation of the good, and felt in all its fulness, when he bent his knee by the side of" the Father and the Priest," the gentle majesty of that religion which consoles the afflicted and elevates the poor. He is at present, the favourite poet of a virtuous, a pious, a patriotic people; and the first symptom of their decay in virtue, piety, and patriotism, will be seen on the instant when Scotsmen shall cease to treasure in their hearts the " Highland Mary," the "Cottar's Saturday Night," and the "Song of Bannockburn.'

Mr Moore has attempted to do for Ireland the same service which Burns rendered to Scotland; but although his genius is undoubted, he has failed to do so. It will be said, that the national character of his countrymen did not furnish such materials as fell to the share of his rival, and there is no doubt that so far this is true. The Irish have not the same near recollec

tions of heroic actions, or the same proud and uncontaminated feeling of independence as the Scots. Their country has been conquered, perhaps oppressed, and the memory of those

barbarous times in which they were ruled by native reguli is long since faded into dimness and insignificance. The men themselves, moreover, are deficient, it may be, in some of those graver points of character, which afford the best grappling places, for the power of poetry. All this may perhaps be admitted; but surely it will not be contended, but that much, both of purpose and instrument, was still left within the reach of him that would aspire to be the national poet of the Irish. Their religious feelings are not indeed of so calm and dignified a nature as those of some nations, but they are strong, ardent, passionate, and, in the hands of one worthy to deal with them, might furnish abundantly the elements both of the beautiful and the sublime. Their character is not so consistent as it might be, but it yields to none in the fine attributes of warmth, of generosity, and the whole chivalry of the heart. Were these things likely to have been left out of the calculation of a genuine poet of Ireland?-Mr Moore addresses nothing to his countrymen that should make them listen to him long. He seems to have no part nor lot with them in the things which most honourably and most effectually distinguish them from others. He writes for the dissipated fashionables of Dublin, and is himself the idol in the saloons of absentees; but he has never composed a single verse which I could imagine to be impressed upon the memory, nor brought together a single groupe of images calculated to ennoble the spirit of an Irish peasant.

Were the Irish to acknowledge in this man, their Burns or Camoens, they would convince Europe, that they are entirely deficient in every thing that renders men worthy of the name of a nation. The "Exile of Erin," and the "O'Connor's Child" of Campbell, are worth more to Ireland than

all the poetry of Moore. *

*

THE MINSTREL OF BRUGES.
Part Fourth.

(Continued from vol. III. page 671.)

Is it not true, my young lady readers of eighteen, and even you of forty years, that you are anxious about the

fate of Amurat? You are in the right -charming as Medoro, he was more tender; and Ernestine, with whom you are scarcely acquainted, was of ten times the value of that coquet Angelica. She had followed her mother to the garden of the convent in tears we are sorrow to see her weep-he must be an absolute barbarian that could be untouched with her sorrows. But let us resume our story.-The holy brotherhood and the Inquisition are terrible things. The handsome Amurat, although led away through Murcia with his hands fettered, had in this state interested the whole of that kingdom. There was not a girl, on seeing him pass, who did not cry out, Heavens, what a pity! is it possible for any one to be a Mahommedan, and so handsome ?"

[ocr errors]

The poor boy was going to be broiled without hope of pardon. He was confined in a dungeon, with only bread and water for his food; and for his sole comfort, a Dominican visited him twice a day, but without speaking a word. It was for the handsome Amurat himself to confess his crime, but the poor innocent felt himself no way culpable.

66

One day the Dominican said to him, "You will not then confess any thing to me?" "Pardon me,” replied Amurat, "I will confess to you that I shall die, if separated from Ernestine." "Wretched infidel," exclaimed the Monk, "how dare you name a Christian?" "Why not," said the sorrowful Amurat? "She was the life of my existence, the sun of my days, the object of every thought, and the only thing my heart pants after." "Consider your end," replied the Dominican, within two days the pile will be lighted for you-you must not look for pardon, as you are under the most obstinate impenitence." "For what cause?" asked Amurat. "In having run away with Ernestine from her father and mother." "Oh, father!" said Amurat," I ask your pardon, you seem to labour under an error, for it was Ernestine's mother who gave her to me; however, if you are determined to burn me, do so, but it will never be in such a bright flame as now consumes me for Ernestine. Alas, alas! I shall then never see her more -burn me, burn me, for I cannot live without her!"

The Dominican, who had never be

fore seen any infidel so eager for death in the prisons of the holy Inquisition, ruminated, while counting his rosary, on the answer of Amurat; and as at bottom he was a good-natured man, he suspected some mystery, and to clear it up, he returned to the handsome Moor to inquire into the details of his arrest and imprisonment. The simple boy told him every thing with the utmost sincerity; how the bright eyes, the enchanting smile, and the harmonious voice of the modest Ernestine, had seduced him in Murcia; how, after some time, he gained courage to tell her of all the pains he was suffering for her; how his virtuous but kind-hearted girl blushed at his declaration without saying a word; how, one day surprising her sighing, he asked her the cause; but she only looked at him, and sighed again; and this made him comprehend that she returned his flame: how he cast himself at the feet of the Minstrel's wife, and interested her in his passion; how the Minstrel, on hearing it, became furious, to find that a Moor had the audacity to make love to his daughter; how they had all run away from the house of the Minstrel; and how the officer of the holy brotherhood, after having robbed the wife of the Minstrel, who had previously been his mistress, of all that she had, had sent her home again with Ernestine, and had loaded him with chains.

This last circumstance opened the eyes of the Dominican; he thanked Heaven for having prevented him from committing an unjust act, and summoned the officer before him, who avowed the whole. The handsome Amurat appeared very excusable, and was set at liberty, upon condition of being instructed in the Christian religion; but he would make no promise, except of doing whatever should please Ernestine.

He fled back to Murcia, where he learnt that the Minstrel had quitted the town with all his family. They could not inform him exactly what road he had taken, but they thought it was that toward Madrid. Poor Amurat hastened to Madrid, describing all the way the persons he was in search of; but he gained only vague and unsatisfactory answers. On his arrival at Castille, he heard that his countrymen had lost a great battle. Too full of his own misfortunes to

think of his country, he pursued his road. On his way he overtook a sort of Moorish Esquire, near a ravine, crying most bitterly, while two fine Andalusian mares were feeding quietly beside him. It was Sabaoth himself, who had witnessed the death of the Zegris, commander of the Moors, and his good master.

Amurat approached him, and asked him the same questions he had done to all he met : "Sir," said he, "have you seen an old thin man playing on the bagpipe, accompanied by an old woman, two young boys, and a girl more beautiful than all the infantas of the world?" "Aye, that I have," replied Sabaoth sobbing, "at a distance, the eve of the battle we have just lost. I am well acquainted with that old bagpiper you speak of, and he ought to remember me, for I have of ten given him many a hearty thrashing in the stables of my last worthy defunct master at Grenada. I have also some claim on his gratitude, for I made him a physician, and so able a one, that he attended my master. It was, however, fortunate for him, that during his attendance I was occupied in the stables, and was ignorant of his audacity in pretending to be doctor to a Zegris. I would have taught him what a stable boy was to a groom. But, be assured, that I have seen him pass by, and he had in fact with him two women and two children, but in so miserable a condition, that both Moors and Christians allowed him to continue his road unmolested, on account of his misery. I am not so fortunate, which is the cause of my weeping, for my road is intercepted, and I cannot return again to Grenada without risk of being taken; you also will run the same chance." Amurat replied, "Sir Squire, you are right in fearing being made a prisoner in this country, for they treat us Moors very scurvily; I that am speaking to you have narrowly escaped broiling by the holy Inquisition. Therefore, instead of returning to Grenada, let us disguise ourselves, which we can easily do, for I have in the havresack that you see on my shoulders, a dress that I intended for a present to the Minstrel, to render him propitious to my love, and another that I had bought for his adorable daughter. You shall put on the first, and I will dress myself in the second, when, mounting

these two mares, we may traverse all Spain in security; the holy brotherhood will not touch you, and I may perhaps overtake Ernestine." "I agree to your proposal," answered Sabaoth, "for, after all, it is better to be a wanderer and vagabond than burnt."

We are concerned to leave our two Moors in the plains of Castille, but the monastery of Vaucelles recalls us. We had left Ernestine with her mother, and said, that this unfortunate girl could not eradicate from her heart the shaft which love had fixed there. She was ignorant of that formidable power that triumphs over reason in spite of ourselves, which we wish, and wish not to conquer, which effaces all other sentiments of the soul, which exists and renews itself by its own force, and will not allow us to have another thought, and which subjects us to a torment at once pleasing and painful, whereof cold hearts can have no idea.

Such was the volcano that inflamed the soul of Ernestine; such the deity, who, in the midst of pains, procured her delights; such the demon that was tearing her heart to pieces.

What could the wife of the Minstrel do in such a case? She had had intrigues, and a variety of adventures, but they are only the simulation of love. Her daughter seemed to her mad, which is the usual name indifference gives to that passion, and she considered as a weakness, what is the strongest power in nature. She reasoned and argued, during which, Ernestine sighed and wept. There was no other remedy for her disorder than the disorder itself. Besides, to bring back an impassioned heart from its wanderings, the person who attempts it should be pure, without which, no one has a right to talk of virtue, and the mother of Ernestine had lost that right over her daughter. Too happy Minstrel! during this time thou wast forgetful in the hall of guests, of all past troubles, and one pleasant half hour effaced the remembrance of sixty years of misery. Why should we seek happiness in the upper ranks of life, in opulent fortunes, or in a multiplicity of pleasures? It is not even to be found in mutual love, and consists solely in indifference.

The Minstrel was very communicative of every adventure he had had. He related one which certainly proves that the good and evil things of this

world are distributed somewhat like a lottery. He had met at Poictiers another bagpiper from the Ardennes, where a troubadour had taught each the same tune, but adapted to different words. Alas! the recompence each received was very different. Underneath are the words that fell to the lot of our unfortunate Minstrel :

First Couplet. "Gai, Pastoureaux, Gai Pastourelles : A vos agneaux, A vos Agnelles Laissez Loisir D'aller bondir: Gai, Pastourelles, Gai, Pastoureaux.

Second Couplet. Tems de jeunesse Est tems d'amours; Tems de vieillesse Est tems de plours: Sur la Condrette Viens Bergerette,

Gai, Troubadours."

[ocr errors]

nois, and gave him twenty pieces of gold, saying, Ah! this is what may be called a gallant Minstrel, not like to that other low bred fellow with his indecent songs.'

"Now, Sir Steward, I appeal to you," continued the Minstrel," if I had had any wicked intention in thus pronouncing the word, which assuredly I had not; did I sing any thing very different from what the Ardennois had done? see how different our rewards were, and then let any one talk to me of justice on this earth. The lady indeed was of noble birth, and brilliant as mine own country rose, and the knight a prince of France, whose fleur-de-lis adorned his superb shield. Without knowing it, the Ardennois had flattered two noble lovers, whilst I, as ignorantly, had offended them. He received gold, and I blows. May I not therefore assert, that there is only good and evil luck in the world." This indeed was most evident in the family of the Minstrel ; for, in spite of the various evils he had

There were also other verses in the met with in his career, his philosophy song ending with

"De la fougere,

Du Dieu lutin

De la Bergere

Et du Butin."

"And you will please to remark," said the Minstrel," that I pronounced, after my country fashion, the B like to P; but from what has since happened to me, I have taken good care to improve my pronunciation. You must know then, that as I was singing this air one day under the shade of a tree, and pronouncing the word Butin very indecently, a lady started out from behind some bushes, inflamed with rage, attended by a handsome knight, who ordered their varlets to beat me soundly, to teach me, as they said, to respect ladies in my songs. I was thus very unjustly punished; for, a few minutes afterwards, my brother piper arrived, ignorant of what had befallen me, and seating himself near to the same bush, wherein the couple had again hid themselves as if nothing had happened, began to chant forth the happiness of a gallant rose that on the breast of beauty doth repose, &c. &c. At these sounds, which, in good truth, were not a whit more harmonious than mine, the loving couple quitted the bush, praised most highly the Arden

had caused him to be recompensed by gayety; he still laughed, and laughed although on the brink of the grave, whilst his unfortunate daughter was pining away with love in the spring of life. Let us imitate this economy of pleasures and pains which is scattered through our passage here below,every thing invites us.

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

The whole monastery was delighted with the Minstrel. The Cambresian could no longer quit him; the steward had taken a liking to him; and the Lord Abbot, desirous of retaining him at Vaucelles, said to him, are you so anxious to carry your bones to Bruges, that we cannot keep you here?' "No, truly,” replied the piper, "I am no way desirous to return to Bruges, where I have neither friend nor relation, nor house nor home; and I was only returning thither, because I knew not where else to lay my head." The abbot continued, "You play wonderfully well on the pipes, do you think you could blow the Serpent of the monastery? ours is just dead, and I offer you his place." "He who pretends to know most, knows least," answered the Minstrel; " in truth I I am capable of being a most excellent serpent to the abbey chapel, and you shall see to-morrow how I will make its roofs resound. But what will be

bot;

66

come of my wife, my daughter, and my two brats? "We will take charge of you all here," said the abyour wife shall be cook to the visitors, your daughter, femme de chambre to the ladies that may come to partake of our hospitality, and your two boys shall ring the bells, and rake the walks of our garden." "You talk like Saint Bernard, your glorious patron," replied the Minstrel, transported with joy. The old woman was made acquainted with this arrange ment, and consented to it, although she did not pique herself on being an excellent cook. The situation of femme de chambre was rather humiliating to Ernestine, but as it was no great fatigue, she accepted of it. The little boys were so enchanted with their employment, that they wished to enter on their business instantly; one went to the belfry and rang the bells for more than two hours, while the other broke three rakes that same evening on the garden walks.

Here then was our vagabond family fixed, and tolerably well established; they were all contented excepting Ernestine alone, whose melancholy increased with the noisy pleasures that surrounded her. All foreign joy annoys the wretched, for joy is not the lot of an impassioned heart, and it is in the season of roses that chagrin makes the deepest wounds. It was in vain that the Minstrel exerted himself to rouse his daughter from that state of languor which was consuming her; in vain did this good-natured fellow, now sufficiently master of the serpent, resume his pipes every Sunday and and feast-day, to make the girls of the environs dance; in vain he intreated his daughter to join them ;-dancing tired her, and the Morisco airs, which her father played so wondrous well, brought back bitter recollections, and increased her melancholy.

She performed her office of femme de chambre so much to the satisfaction of those ladies and damsels that came to Vaucelles, that all of them felt a friendship, and thought her manners much superior to her situation.

Her sweetness of temper was unalterable, and, contrary to the common course of things, her misery did not affect her good humour. Shall she be then for ever the only one to whom life is become a burden in this happy monastery?

VOL. IV.

Part Fifth.

WHEN happiness has not been preceded by pain it is the less agreeable, for the value of all things is doubled by contrast. A rich man who has never been poor knows not the worth of money; and successful love, that has not met with difficulties, does not afford supreme felicity.

O handsome Amurat, what tears and sighs has the sentiment that occupies your soul caused you? You are not yet, however, at the end of your career; and are gallopping over hill and dale with the squire Sabaoth, as was formerly done by the knight of La Mancha with the faithful Sancho.

Sabaoth, dressed up in the long doctoral gown, intended for the father of Ernestine, at that time a physician, was taken for a magician all along the roads; children, at his sight, hid themselves on the breasts of their nurses, young girls ran away, old people crossed themselves, while the younger ones laughed enough to split their sides. The handsome Amurat, dressed in a gown of sky-blue, inspired other sentiments. He was thought to be a damsel of high rank, if not a princess, so brilliant were his charms, his manners so noble and interesting. The villagers shouted out as they passed, "begone, hasten from hence, thou ill-looking spectre, thou wicked mon ster, whom that beautiful lady has chosen for her companion, to increase the brightness of her charms by the contrast of thy ugliness!" While they addressed Amurat, "Return, return, fair fugitive, and do not deprive our country of so much beauty." The two Moors, thus disguised, arrived at Madrid, and thence advanced into Arragon, where they gained some intimation of a wandering family having passed through those parts. "It must be them," said Amurat; "let us spur on, friend Sabaoth, we shall surely overtake them." "I am in no such hurry as you are," replied Sabaoth. "what care I for this vagabond family? Sir Amurat, may Mahommed protect you, but for my part, I shall return to Grenada." "That you can no longer do," answered Amurat; "have you forgotten, that should the Castillians lay hold of you, you are of the set they burn on a slow fire? Come with me into France, there is no Inquisition in that country. We shall recover my Er

B

« AnteriorContinuar »