The Catholic World Volume Iii Part 120

'Oh I yes: kneel down, my son, and receive it with humility.' 'Nay,'

said the other, 'I will not accept it, for were it worth a farthing you would not have offered it.'"

We cannot, however, quit the school-books without mention of the really valuable treatise on arithmetic, composed by Elias Vorster, a Dutchman naturalized in Cork, and subsequently improved by John Gough, of Meath street, one of the society of Friends. "Book-keeping by Double Entry," written by Dowling and Jackson, was so judiciously arranged that it is still looked on as a standard work.

The same followers _longo intervallo_ of Stephens and Elzevir published, besides prayer and other devout books, a series of stories and histories, and literary treatises such as they were, printed with worn type, on bad grey paper, cheaply bound in sheep-skin, and sold by the peddlers through the country at a _tester_ (6-1/2d.) each. Of history, voyages, etc., the peddler's basket was provided with "Hugh Reilly's History of Ireland," "Adventures of Sir Francis Drake," "The Battle of Aughrim," and "Siege of Londonderry," (the two latter being dramas,) "Life and Adventures of James Freney the Robber," "The Irish Rogues and Rapparees," "The Trojan Wars," and "Troy's Destruction,"

"The Life of Baron Trenck," and "The Nine Worthies--Three Jews, Three Heathens, and Three Christians."

The fictional department embraced, chiefly in an abridged state, "The Arabian Nights," "The History of Don Quixote," "Gulliver's Travels,"

"Esop's Fables," "Adventures of Robinson Crusoe," "Robin Hood's Garland," "The Seven Champions of Christendom," "The History of Valentine and Orson," "The Seven Wise Masters and Mistresses of Rome,"

"Royal Fairy Tales," etc., etc.

In the department of the Belles Lettres may be cla.s.sed, "Lord Chesterfield's Letters to his Son," "The Academy of Compliments," "The Fas.h.i.+onable Letter Writer," "Hocus Pocus, or the Whole Art of Legerdemain," "Joe Miller's Jest Book," etc.

The list would not be complete without mention of the books of ballads. These were sold in sheets, each forming 8 pages, 18mo, and adorned with cuts, never germain to the ballads they ill.u.s.trated. Some of these sheets contained only one production, the "Yarmouth Tragedy,"

or some early English ballad sadly disfigured. One related how a "servant-man" was accused by an envious liveried brother, of being a confirmed card-player. On being examined he obtained a complete victory over the informer, convincing his master that what he, the master, called cards, was to him a prayer-book, a catechism, a calendar, and what not. The different numbers reminded him of the six days of the creation, the seven churches of Asia, the ten commandments, the twelve Apostles, etc. The {681} king recalled to him the duty he owed that supreme magistrate, the ace of hearts, the love due to G.o.d and our neighbor. "How, is it," said the master, "that you have always pa.s.sed over the knave in your reckoning?" "Ah! I wished to speak no ill of that crooked disciple that went to backbite me to your honor." The reader antic.i.p.ates the victory of the ingenious rogue.

The purchasers of these sheets sewed them as well as they could in a book form, but they were so thumbed and abused, that it is at this date nearly impossible to procure one of those repertories of song printed toward the close of the last or the beginning of the present century.

Of all these works that we delight in most at present, (it was not so when we were young,) is the unmatched "Academy of Compliments," which was the favorite of boys and girls just beginning to think of marriage, or its charming preliminary, courts.h.i.+p. Very feelingly did the writer in his preface insist on the necessity of eloquence. "Even quick and attractive wit," as he thoughtfully observed, "is often foiled for want of words, and makes a man or woman seem a _statute_ or one dumb." He candidly acknowledges that several treatises like his have been published, "but he a.s.sures the _courteous reader_ that none have arrived to the perfection of this, for good language and diversion."

This is the receipt for accosting a lady, and entering into conversation; with her:

"I believe Nature brought you forth to be a scourge to lovers, for she hath been so prodigal of her favor toward you, that it renders you as admirable as you are amiable."

Another form:

"Your presence is so dear to me, your conversation so _honest_, and your humour so pleasing, that I could desire to be with you perpetually."

The author directs a slight departure from this form, in case the gentleman has never seen the lady before, and yet has fallen pa.s.sionately in love with her.

"If you accuse me of temerity, you must lay your own beauty in fault, with which I am so taken, that my heart is ravished from me, and wholly subjected to you."

Decent people would scarcely thank us for troubling them with many of the "witty questions and answers for the improvement of conversation."

A few must be quoted, however, with discreet selection.

"Q. What said the tiler to the man when he fell through the rafters of his house?

"A. Well done, faith; I like such an a.s.sistant as thou art, who can go through his work so quickly.

"Q. What said the tailor's boy to the gentleman who, on his presenting his bill, said tartly, he was not running away?

"A. If you are not, sir, I am sorry to say my master is.

"Q. Why is a soldier said to be of such great antiquity?

"A. Because he keeps up the old fas.h.i.+ons when the first bed was upon the bare ground."

THE BATTLE OF AUGHRIM.

It may appear strange that "The Battle of Aughrim," written by an adherent to the Hanoverian succession, should so long have continued a popular volume among the Roman Catholic peasantry. This has, perhaps, been due to the respectful style in which the author treated the officers of Irish extraction. All his contempt and dislike were levelled at St. Ruth, the French General, and his masters, English James and French Louis. Though the style of the rhymed play is turgid enough, there are in it occasional pa.s.sages of considerable vigor and beauty, and a brisk movement in the conduct of the piece; and sentimental youth have an opportunity of shedding a tear over the ill starred love of _G.o.dfrey_ and _Jemima_. It was scarcely fair of the author to represent St. Ruth as a stabber in cold blood, but hear the moving periods he makes Sarsfield utter:

"O heavens! can nature bear the shocking sound Of death or slavery on our native ground.

Why was I nurtured of a n.o.ble race, And taught to stare destruction in the face?

Why was I not laid out a useless _scrub_, And formed for some poor hungry peasant's cub.

To hedge and ditch, and with unwearied toil To cultivate for grain a fertile soil, To watch my flocks, and range my pastures through, With all my locks wet with the morning dew, Rather than being great, give up my fame, And lose the ground I never can regain?"

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Those Irishmen, who, like ourselves, have read and enjoyed this drama in early boyhood, before the birth of the critical faculty, will find it out of their power to divest themselves of early impressions when endeavoring to form a just estimate of its merits. We vainly strive to forget the image of a comely and intelligent country housewife, spiritedly reciting the interview of the Irish and English officers after the day was decided, and bravely holding out the tongs at the point where Sarsfield presents his weapon. Talmash, Mackay, and Sir Charles G.o.dfrey confront the Irish chiefs, Dorrington, O'Neil, and Sarsfield, and Talmash courteously addresses them.

"Take quarters, gentlemen, and yield on sight.

Or otherwise prepare to stand the fight.

Yet pray, take pity on yourselves and yield.

For blood enough has stained the sanguine field.

'Tis Britain's glory, you yourselves can tell, To use the vanquished hospitably well.

_Sarsfield--_ Urge not a thought, proud victor, if you dare.

So far beneath the dignity of war.

I am a peer, and Sarsfield is my name.

And where this sword can reach I dare maintain.

Life I contemn, and death I recommend; He breathes not vital air who'd make me bend My neck to bondage, so, proud foe, decline The length of this, (_extending his sword_,) because the spot is mine.

_Talmash_.--If you are Sarsfield, as you bravely show, You're that brave hero whom I longed to know, And wished to thank you on the reeking plain For that great feat of blowing up our train.

Then mark, my lord, for what I here contend; 'Tis Britain's holy church I now defend.

Great William's right, and Mary's crown, these three.

_Sarsfield_.--Why, then fall on--Louis and James for me. (_They fight_.)

Sarsfield's declaration ends the animated discussion rather lamely; but what poet has maintained a uniform grandeur or dignity? The writer was a certain Robert Ashton. The play when printed was dedicated, circa 1756, to Lord Carteret, and if peasant tradition can be trusted, it was only acted once. The Jacobite and Hanoverian gentlemen in the pit drew their swords on one another, probably at the scene just quoted, and bloodshed ensued. This is not confirmed by the written annals of the time.

"The Siege of Londonderry" was, and still is bound up with "The Battle of Aughrim," but there is nothing whatever in it to recommend it to the sympathies of the populace. There is nothing but mismanagement and bad feeling on the part of the native officers from beginning to end; and if fear or disloyalty shows itself in one of the besieged, his very wife cudgels him for it.

There is something very nave and old-fas.h.i.+oned in the observation inserted at the end of the list of the _dramatis personae:_

"Cartel agreed upon--No exchange of prisoners, but hang and quarter on both sides."

DON BELLIANIS OF GREECE; OR THE HONOR OF CHIVALRY.

The re-perusal of portions of this early favorite of ours has not been attended with much pleasure or edification. There is a sad want of style, accompanied by a complete disregard of syntax, orthography, and punctuation. The objects to be attained are so many and so useless, one adventure branches off into so many others, and there arc so many knights and giants to be overcome, and emperors so carelessly leave their empresses in the dark woods exposed to so many dangers, while they go themselves to achieve some new and futile exploit that the narrative has scarcely more continuity and consistence than a dream.

The author had ten times as many separate sets of adventures to conduct simultaneously as ever had the estimable G. P. R. James. So he was frequently obliged to suspend one series, and take up another, a mode of composition which all novelists who read this article, are advised to eschew. Leaving Don Bellianis investing the emperor of Trebizond, who stoutly disputed the possession of the fair Florisbella's hand with him, he proceeds to tell what happened at the joustings of Antioch in consequence of the happy union of Don Brianel and the peerless Aurora. Thither came {683} Peter, the knight of the Keys, from Ireland. He was son to the king of Monster, and, being anxious to seek foreign adventures, embarked at _Carlingford_, and performed prodigies of valor in Britain and France, and then sailed for Constantinople. Being within sight of that city, a storm forced his s.h.i.+p away and drove it to Sardinia, where Peter won the heart of the fair princess, Magdalena, by his success in the tournament, and his beauty of features when he removed his helmet after the exercise.

The princess has a claim upon our indulgence, for as the text has it, "he looked like Mars and Venus together." The knights of those happy times being as distinguished for modesty as courage, the princess ran no risk in desiring an interview with the peerless Peter, and they vowed constancy to each other till death.

A neighboring king demanding the hand of the lady for his son, the lovers decamp, and find themselves on a strange island in a day or two. Peter having given the princess a red purse containing some jewels, she happened to let it fall by her, and it was at once picked up by a vulture, on the supposition of its being a piece of raw meat.

Flying with it to a tree overhanging the river, and finding his mistake, he dropped it into the water, and there it lay on the sandy bottom in sight of the lovers.

The knight, arming himself with a long bough, and getting into the boat, would have fished up the purse, only for the circ.u.mstance of being unprovided with oars. The tide having turned, he was carried out to sea, and by the time he had got rid of his armor he was nearly out of sight of the poor princess, now left shrieking behind, who was conveyed away after a day and a night's suffering, in a s.h.i.+p bound for Ireland, where she took refuge in a nunnery, and in time became its superioress. This was near the palace of her lover's parents, and to match this strange coincidence by another equally strange, their cook, one day preparing a codfish for dinner, discovered within it the identical purse of jewels carried away by their son, and lost in the manner described in the distant Mediterranean. They gave him up then for lost, but he was merely searching through the world for his mistress, jousting at Antioch, killing a stray giant here or there, and rescuing from the stake at Windsor an innocent countess accused of a _faux pas_--all these merely to keep his hand in practice. Don Clarineo with whom he had fraternized at Antioch is also engaged on the same quest, and comes to Ireland in the course of his rambles. In that early time Owen Roe O'Neill was chief king, MacGuire, father of Peter, was king of Munster as before stated, Owen Con O'Neill and Owen MacO'Brien ruled two of the other provinces, but the territory claimed by each is not pointed out. The compiler was probably not well up in the old chronicles; he would else have given O'Brien the territory of Munster, and settled MacGuire somewhere near Loch Erin.