Chapter X: Part XV (2)

A rapid journey, and a tranquil passage over the sixty miles that lie between Wales and Ireland, gave me what an old Roman would regard as an omen of the peacefulness of my mission. On the dawn of one of the finest mornings of the year, I came within sight of the Irish coast, and was struck, as all travellers have been, by the beauty of the bold and picturesque coast which rose from the waters before me. In front was a province of mountains, touched by all the variety of colours, which are painted in such richness by the summer sun, on groups of pinnacles and cones, forest hills, and the fine diversities of woodland and mountain scenery. On one side the eye glanced over a vast sheet of water, shut in by headlands, and as blue and bright as a lake under a serene sky. At the extremity of this noble estuary, a cloud, unchanging and unmoving, showed where a city sent up the smoke of its ten thousand fires; beyond this, all was purple confusion. My official rank threw open all the _élite_ of Irish society to me at my first step; and I found it, as it has been found by every one else, animated, graceful, and hospitable. The nature of its government tended to those qualifications. While the grave business of the state was done in London, the lighter business of show was sedulously sustained in the Irish capital. The lord-lieutenant was generally a nobleman, selected more for his rank and his wealth than for his statesmanship. A rich, showy, and good-humoured peer was the true man for the head of affairs in Ireland. It was of more importance that he should give balls and suppers, say lively things to the ladies, and be jocular with the gentleman, than that he should have the brains of Bolingbroke or the tongue of Chatham. But the position of the secretary was the absolute antipode of this tranquil and festive sinecure. He was in Ireland what the premier was in England, but with ten times more of the difficulty, and ten times less of the power. The whole conduct of public affairs lay on his shoulders; he was responsible for every thing, while he was free in nothing; perpetually assailed by opposition for measures which he was not at liberty to explain, and standing between the English cabinet and the Irish party as a scapegoat for the mistakes of the one, and a target for the shot of the other. But the chief trial of temper was in the House of Commons. Opposition in Ireland never had a list of more brilliant names. Government had the majority behind its bench, and that majority recruited from the ranks of Opposition; but the more distinguished were fixed to party by their own celebrity; and the recruits, however able, were so liable to be attacked for their change of side, that they were paralyzed; in some instances, they were so much galled by the merciless sharpshooting of their former associates, that they ran back, and left the minister to fight the field alone.

I was fortunately free from the entanglements of that question, which has since formed so large a portion of the political disquietudes of Irish debate. The religion of the south was not yet among parliamentary topics. The religion of the north, active ardent, and indefatigable, was our most restless theme; and the political theories which seemed to grow out of its bold abstractions, kept the government in perpetual anxiety. The whole northern portion of the island was ripe for revolt. America had blown the hot-blast of the revolutionary furnace across the Atlantic, and a spark from France would have now ignited the whole hot surface of the soil.

One of my first acts after arranging the preliminary business of office, was to make a flying tour through Ulster. I was astonished at its beauty. Even after being familiar with the loveliness of the English landscape, I was in a state of continued surprise at the variety, richness, and singularity of nature in the northern counties. Mountain, lake, magnificent bay, and broad river, followed each other in noble and unceasing succession. I was still more struck with the skill and good fortune, by which the people had contrived to combine the industry of manufactures with the life of the fields; a problem which England herself had failed to solve. But, most of all, I was attracted by the independent air, and handsome and vigorous appearance of the people; almost every man was proprietor, and had the look which proprietorship alone can give. I found books in almost every cottage, decency of dress every where, and among the higher orders frequent elegance and accomplishment. The women were cultivated and intelligent; the men, spirited and enquiring. But the politics of France had made their way through a large portion of the province, and the glories of a republic "loomed large" before the popular eye. As it was my purpose to see all that I could with my own eyes, I mingled largely in society, made no distinction between honourable men of different political creeds, enjoyed to-day the stag-hunt and claret of the noble Whig, and to-morrow the stag-hunt and claret of the noble Tory, listened to all, laughed with all, and learned something from all. The English aristocrat, especially if he holds high official place, once haunted the imaginations of the Irish of all conditions, like an incarnation of an Indian deity--all fierceness and frigidity; and it must be acknowledged that the general order of viceroys and secretaries had not tended much to remove the conception. They were chiefly men of advanced life, with their habits formed by intercourse with the most exclusive class in existence, the English peerage, or rendered rigid by the dry formalities of official life. But I was young, had seen a good deal of that rough work of the world which gives pliancy, if not polish, to all characters; and I was, besides, really delighted with the animation, pleasantry, and winning kindness which exhibited themselves every where round me. I was half a son of Ireland already, and I regarded the recognition as the pledge of my success.

"Do you know," said one of the most influential and accomplished noblemen of the country to me, one day at his sumptuous table--"how many of the lords-lieutenant do you think have left a popular recollection behind them?"

I professed my ignorance, but enumerated some names remarkable for intelligence and vigour of administration.

"Oh," said my entertainer, "that was not the question! Great statesmen and showy governors, capital rulers of the country and bold managers of our factions, we have had in sufficient succession, but I speak of the faculty of being remembered; the talent of making a public impression; the power of escaping that national oblivion into which mere official services, let them be of what magnitude they may, inevitably drop when their performer has disappeared. Well, then, I shall tell you. _Two_, and no more."

I begged to know the names of those "discoverers of the grand secret, the philosopher's stone of popularity," the alchemists who had power to fix the floating essence of the Irish mind!

"Chesterfield and Townshend. Chesterfield, regarded as a fop in England, was a daring, steady, and subtle governor of the unruly spirits of Ireland, in one of the most hazardous periods. That the throne of the Brunswicks did not see an Irish revolt at the moment when it saw a Scottish invasion, was the service of Chesterfield. But he ruled not by his wisdom, but by his wit. He broke down faction by _bon-mots_; he extinguished conspiracy by passing compliments; he administered the sternest law with the most polished smile; and cut down rebellion by quotations from La Fontaine, and _calembourgs_ from Scarron. But with these fortunate pleasantries he combined public and solid services. He threw a large portion of the crown lands in the neighbourhood of the capital into a park for the recreation of the citizens, and thus gave one of the earliest and most munificent examples of regard for the health and enjoyment of the people; a more enduring monument of his statesmanship could not have been offered to the gratitude of the country."

Of the Marquis Townshend I had heard as a gallant soldier, and a stirring viceroy, but I still had to learn the source of his popularity.

"Townshend was one of those singular men who possess faculties of which they have no knowledge, until the moment when they become necessary. He began life as a soldier, and finished his soldiership in the most brilliant victory of his day--the battle of Quebec. On his appointment to the viceroyalty, he found his government a nothing; a government faction superseding the governor, and an opposition faction engrossing the people. He now, for the first time, became a politician. He resolved to crush both, and he succeeded. He treated the government faction in Ireland with contumely, and he treated the opposition with contempt. Both were indignant; he laughed at both, and treated them with still more scorn. Both were astonished--the government faction intrigued against him in England, the opposition threatened impeachment. He defied them still more haughtily. They now found that he was not to be shaken, and both submitted. The nation joined him, was pacified, grew in vigour, as it required tranquillity; and here you have the secret of all the privileges which Ireland has obtained. Townshend performed, only on a smaller scale, the same national service which Pitt performed on a larger one. He took the people out of the hands of aristocracy, broke up the league of opulence and power, and gave the island that popular freedom which the great minister of England gave to the empire. For this the name of Townshend lives among us still. His bold satires are recorded, his gallant bearing is remembered, his passing pleasantries have become a portion of the national wit, and his rough but effectual services are among the memorials of our independence as a people."

The evening of this hospitable day concluded with a ball to the neighbouring families, and all was graceful and animated enjoyment. My host had travelled much in early life, and had brought home some fine pictures and valuable sculptures. He was an accomplished classical scholar--a quality which I found in some degree fashionable among the leading personages of the time, and which unquestionably added much to the high tone of conversation among the parliamentary circles. In his magnificent mansion an artist might have found studies, a scholar learning, a philosopher wisdom, and a man of the world all the charms of polished life. How soon, and how fearfully, were they all to be extinguished! How bitterly were all who honoured and esteemed that generous and highly-gifted nobleman, to feel what shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue!

Our mornings were chiefly spent in hunting over the fine landscape which spread, in all the various beauty of vegetation, within view of the mansion. On one of those days the attention of the field was caught by the fierce riding of a singular-looking man, scarcely above the peasant in his general appearance, and yet mounted on one of the finest English horses that I had ever seen. He rode at every thing, managed his horse with practised skill, and soon became an object of general emulation. To "ride up" to the "wild horseman," was found to be a task not easily accomplished, and at length all was a trial of speed with this dashing exhibitor. A glance which, when on the point of one of his most desperate leaps, he threw back at me, seemed to be a kind of challenge, and I rushed on at speed. The Irish hunter matchless at "topping" stone walls, but his practice has not lain much among rivers; and the English horse is sometimes his master at the deep and rapid streams which, running between crumbling banks, are perhaps the severest trials to both horse and rider. The majority of the hunt pulled up at the edge of one of those formidable chasms, and I was by no means unwilling to follow their example; but the look of the strange rider had a sneer along with it, which put me on my mettle, and I dashed after him. The hounds had scrambled through, and we rode nearly abreast through a broken country, that mixture of bog and firm ground which occurs frequently in newly cleared land, and over which nothing but the most powerful sinews can make way. We had now left every one behind us, were struggling on through the dimness of a hazy day, sinking into twilight. Suddenly my mysterious rival turned his horse full upon me, and to my utter amazement discharged a pistol at my head. The discharge was so close that I escaped only by the swerving of my horse at the flash. I felt my face burn, and in the impulse of the pain made a blind blow at him with my whip. He had drawn out another pistol in an instant, which the blow luckily dashed out of his hand. No words passed between us, but I bounded on him to seize him. He slipped away from my grasp, and, striking in the spur, galloped madly forward, I in pursuit. The twilight had now deepened, and he plunged into a lane bounded on both sides by steep hedges, and which, from some former hunting in this quarter, I knew to be a _cul-de-sac_. This doubled my determination to make myself master of the assassin; and even in the hurry of the moment I formed some conception of my having seen his face before, and that the attempt to put me out of the way was connected, in some way or other, with public affairs. This question was soon decided. He reached the end of the lane, which was shut in with a wall of about the height of a man. His horse shied at the obstacle. The rider, with an oath and a desperate exertion, pushed him to it again. I was now within a few yards of him, and arrived just in time to see the animal make a convulsive spring, touch with his hind feet on the top of the wall, and roll over. My Irish horse cleared it in the native style, and I found my enemy crushed under his hunter, and evidently in the pangs of death. He had been flung on a heap of stones, and the weight of the falling horse had broken his spine. I poured some brandy down his throat, relieved him from the incumbrance of the hunter--attempted to give him hope--but he told me that it was useless; that he felt death coming on, and that I was the last man who should wish him to live, "as he had pledged himself to my extinction." For a while, his recollections were wild, and he talked of events in France and Spain, where he seemed to have done some deeds which affected him with peculiar horror in the prospect of dissolution. But, after a brief period of those terrible disclosures, his pains totally ceased, his mind grew clear; and he acknowledged that he was one of the leading agents of a National Conspiracy to republicanize Ireland. "You are too kind," said he to me, "to one who now sees the madness of the design, and is sensible of the guilt of taking away the lives of honourable men." A lapse of weakness here tied his tongue; and I brought him a draught of water from a spring which gurgled beside the wall. He thanked me, and proceeded to say, that my "character for vigilance and activity had alarmed the principal conspirators, and that he, thinking all crimes meritorious in a popular cause, had resolved to signalize the commencement of his services, by putting the English secretary to death on the first occasion." For this purpose, he had followed my steps for some time in the metropolis, but without finding a fit opportunity. The intelligence of my hunting days in the north gave him renewed expectations, and he had followed me in various disguises; had been present at dinners and balls, where I was the principal guest; had even frequently conversed with me on public and foreign topics; in fact, had haunted me with a case of pistols constantly in his bosom; yet had never been able to find the true opportunity of despatching me without _eclat_. He had, at last, determined to give up the object as altogether hopeless; and had already prepared to act on a bolder scale by heading open rebellion, when he heard of my intending to hunt on this day. It was to be his last experiment; "and how rejoiced I am," said he, "that it has failed!" He now remained for a while in apparent meditation, and then suddenly raising himself on his hand, said, in a full and manly tone--"One thing I still can do in this world, if it may not be too late. Leave me here; I must die; go back in all haste to your friends, and tell them to prepare either to fly or defend their lives. This is the night appointed for the breaking out of the insurrection. Fifty thousand men are already armed in the mountains, and ready for the signal to march on the principal towns. The few troops in the country are to be made prisoners in their barracks. The government stores are to be divided among the people. Before twelve hours are over we shall have a force of a hundred thousand men on foot; and a republic will be proclaimed."

The intelligence was startling, but not wholly unexpected. I demanded the names of the leaders; but on this head he refused to make any answer. I next enquired, whether the rebel directory had any hope of assistance from the Continent. "That I can fully answer," said he, now almost at his last gasp. "I myself was the negotiator. It is but a month since I was in Paris. The government agreed to send seven sail of the line, with ten thousand troops, and Hoche, the favourite general of the republic, to the north; or, in case of unexpected obstacles, to the south of Ireland. I have been looking out for their flag from hour to hour." The man sank back on the ground. I prepared to run for help, if there were any to be found in that desolate place. He grasped my hand; his was icy. "No," said he, "I must now be left alone; I am dying, and I am not sorry to die. I am free from your blood, and I shall not share in the horrors which I see at hand. Men in health, and men dying think differently of those things. Farewell!" He gave my hand a convulsive clasp, and expired.

My situation was an anxious one. Night had fallen, and the hour was full of peril to those whom I had left behind; it was even possible that the insurrection might have already broken out. Sounds, which seemed to me, in the stillness of the hour, to be the signals of the peasantry--the echoes of horns, and trampling of bodies of horse--began to rise upon the gust, and yet I was unwilling to leave my unfortunate victim on the ground. A length a loud shout, and the firing of musketry on the skirts of the wood, awoke me to a sense of the real danger of my situation. I forced my way through the thickets, and saw a skirmish between a large mass of armed men, and a picket of troops in a village on the borders of the wood. There was now no time to be lost. I returned to the spot where the body lay, placed my hand on its forehead, to ascertain whether any remnant of life lingered there; found all cold; and, remounting my horse, wound my dreary and difficult way back to the mansion.

To my surprise, I found the windows blazing with lights, carriages arriving, and all the signs of a night of gala. I had forgotten that this was my noble entertainer's birthday, and that the whole circle of the neighbouring nobles and gentlemen had been for the last month invited. There were to be private theatricals, followed by a ball and supper. The whole country continued to pour in. Full of my disastrous intelligence, my first enquiry was for the noble host; he was not to be seen. I was at length informed under the seal of secrecy by his secretary, that some information of popular movements within a few miles, having been conveyed to him late in the day, he had put himself at the head of a squadron of his yeomanry to ascertain the nature of the disturbance, and as it was then too late to countermand the invitations to the ball, had given strict orders that the cause of his absence should be concealed, and that the entertainments should go on as if he were present.

Agreeing that this was the wisest thing which could be done, to avoid unnecessary alarm, which paralyses action beforehand, and renders all ridiculous after, I seldom felt it more difficult to play my part than on this occasion. As a minister, any thing in the shape of solicitude on my part, was sure to be magnified into actual disaster, and I was forced to keep an unembarrassed countenance. I immediately sent out servants in every direction to bring intelligence of the actual state of affairs, and above all, to ascertain what had detained their master. Though all this was done with the utmost secrecy, it was impossible to suppress the growing impression that something extraordinary must have occurred, to withdraw from his own hospitable roof, and so long detain, the lord of the mansion, distinguished as he was for the most polished courtesy. As the hour waned, the enquiries became more urgent, the dance languished, and the showy crowd forming into groups, and wandering through the saloons, or gathered to the windows, had evidently lost all the spirit of festivity. To my astonishment, strong opinions began to find utterance, and I discovered that his lordship, in his general and lofty disregard of the shades of popular sentiment, had among his guests some individuals whose rank and wealth had not preserved them from the taint of republicanism. As it was not my purpose to make a ball-room the scene of a political squabble, and as I felt it due to my official position to avoid any unnecessary entanglement in the obscure follies of provincial partizanship, I first tried to laugh down the topic. But a young orator, a handsome and fluent enthusiast, recently returned from a continental excursion, gave so stirring a picture of the glories of French independence, and the glittering advantages which must accrue to all countries following the example, that I was forced to stand on my defence. The gallant republican was not to be repelled; he poured out upon me, as he warmed with the theme, so vast a catalogue of public injuries, in language so menacing, yet so eloquent, that I was forced to ask whether I was standing in the midst of a Jacobin club--whether his object was actually to establish a democracy, to govern by the guillotine, to close up the churches, and inscribe the tombs with--death is an eternal sleep; to swear to the extinction of monarchy, and proclaim universal war. Our dispute had now attracted general notice. He answered with still more vehement and elaborate detail. I had evidently the majority on my side, but some few adhered to him, and those, too, men of consequence, and obvious determination.

The ladies shrank affrighted, as the contest grew more angry; and the usual and unhappy result of political discussion in Ireland, an exchange of cards, was about to take place, when one of the servants brought me a small packet of papers which had been found on the body of the assassin. Glancing over them, I saw a list of the leaders of the insurrection, and the first name in the paper that of my antagonist. I crushed the document in my hand, and beckoned him to a window. There, alone, and out of hearing of the guests, who, however, followed us anxiously with their eyes, I charged him with his guilt. He denied it fiercely. I gave him five minutes to consider whether he would confess or abide the consequences. His countenance visibly exhibited the perturbations of his mind; he turned pale and red alternately, shuddered, then braced himself up with desperate resolution, and finally ended by denying and defying every thing. It was not in my nature to press upon this moment of agony; but telling him, that nothing but compassion prevented my ordering his arrest on the spot, I again warned him to make his peace in time with the government, by a solemn abjuration of his design.

I have the whole scene before me still. This man was destined to a memorable and melancholy fate. I never remember a countenance more expressive of intellectual refinement; but there was a look of strange and feverish restlessness in his large grey eye, almost ominous of his future career. He was still young, though he had already gone through vicissitudes enough to darken the longest life. He had been, a few years before, called to the bar, the favourite profession of the Irish gentry, where he had exhibited talents of a remarkable order; but an impatience of the slow success of this profession drove him to the hazards of political change. He had married, and this increased his difficulties, until party came athwart him with its promises of boundless honour and rapid fortune. His sanguine nature embraced the temptation at once; but the parliamentary opposition was too deliberate and too frigid for his boiling blood; he plunged into the deeper and wilder region of conspiracy, took the lead, which is so soon assigned to the brilliant and the bold, and became the soul of the tremendous faction which was ready to proclaim the separation of the empire.

He had but now returned from France, with a commission in the army of the Republic, and a plan agreed on with the Directory for the invasion of Ireland; but these were discoveries to be made hereafter. On this night I saw nothing but a gallant enthusiast, filled with classic recollections, inflamed with the ardour of early life, and deluded by the dreams of political perfection. My sense of the utter ruin which he was preparing for himself was so strong, that I pressed him from point to point, until he was forced to take refuge in flight, and, rushing from me, burst open a door which led to the demesne. While I paused, not unwilling to give him the opportunity to escape, I heard a wild burst of wailing, and a confusion of voices outside. In the next moment, I saw the fugitive return, with a tottering step, a bloodless countenance, and a look of horror. Without a word, he pointed to the door; I followed the direction, and saw what might well justify his feelings. The troop of yeomanry had been attacked on their return from patrolling the country; an ambuscade had been laid for them by a large force of the insurgents, in one of the narrow roads which bordered the demesne, and where, from its vicinity, they had imagined themselves secure. As they moved down this defile with their noble commandant at their head, a heavy fire of musketry assailed them from both sides; and as the assailants were unapproachable, they had no resource but to gallop on. But they had no sooner reached the wider part of the road, than they found themselves fired on again from behind a barricade of carts and waggons drawn across the road. The affair now seemed desperate; the muzzles of the muskets almost touched their breasts, and every shot told. Their pistols could only keep up a random fire, and their sabres were wholly useless. They were now falling helplessly and fast, when the earl ordered them to charge the insurgents in front, and force their way over the barricade at all risks. He bravely led the way, and they burst through under a volley from the rebels. A ball fatally struck him as he was in the act of cheering on his men, and he dropped dead from his horse without a groan. The troop, furious at their loss, had taken a desperate revenge, cleared the road, and had now brought the dead body of their lord to that mansion, where he had so long presided as the example of every high-toned quality, and which his fate was now to turn into a scene of terror and woe.

The melancholy tidings could not now be suppressed, and the ball-room was filled with screams and faintings. The corpse was brought in, borne on the arms of the yeomanry, most of them wounded, and looking ghastly from loss of blood and the agitation of the encounter. The guests crowded round the sofa on which the body was laid, with all the varieties of sorrow and strong emotion conceivable, under the loss of a common and honoured friend. Tears fell down many a manly cheek; sobs were heard on every side, mingled with outcries of indignation against the rebellious spirit by which so deep a calamity had been produced. But all other considerations were quickly absorbed in the sense of general danger. A tremendous shout was heard round the mansion, followed by the discharge of musketry and the clashing of pikes. All rushed to the windows, and we saw the hills in a blaze with fires, and the demesne crowded with the armed thousands of the insurrection.

JANUS;

THE GOD OF NEW-YEAR'S DAY, FROM THE FASTI OF OVID.

Behold with omens blithe and bright, on festive New-Year's Day,
First in the year old Janus comes, and foremost in my lay!
Twin-headed god, source of the year that silent glides away,
Who only of the Olympian throng canst thine own back survey;
Bless thou our noble chiefs, whose arms have purchased gentle peace
To fruitful Earth, and lent the wave from pirate-chase release;
On senators and people smile, who call Quirinus god,
All temples bright, in shining white, fly open at thy nod!
A lucky sun doth shine; nor voice, nor thought of ill, be stirr'd
To tempt the time; the happy day demands the happy word.
No brawls assail the ear; cease now the harsh-vex'd forum's hum,
And calumny with eager tongue, for once thy spite be dumb!
Lo! where the pure and fragrant flame from every altar round
Upwreathes, while ears devout receive the saffron's crackling sound!
The wandering flame, far darting, strikes the golden-fretted roof,
And with the tremulous ray aloft, it weaves a shining woof.
In stately pomp, the people wend up the Tarpeian slope,
All brightly, on a bright day clad, the pure white robes of hope;
New axes shine, and in the sun new purple bravely sports,
And greeted-far the curule chair new weight of worth supports;[12]
New oxen come that lately cropp'd the sweet Faliscan grass,
And yield to Jove their willing necks on which no yoke did pass.
He, from his starry throne sublime, looks East and West; and lo!
He sees but Rome, and Rome's domain, in all he sways below.
Hail happy day, and still return to bless with happier face
The sons of Romulus, lords of Earth, not thankless for thy grace!
But who art thou, strange biform god, and what thy power? for Greece
With all her gods of thee and thine hath bade her Muses cease;
This say; and say why thou alone of all celestial kind,
Dost forwards still look steadfastly and also gaze behind?
Thus with myself I mused, and held my tablets to indite,
When sudden through the room there shone an unaccustom'd light,
And in the light the double shape of Janus hoar appear'd,
And 'fore my view with fix'd regard his double face he rear'd.
I stood aghast, each rigid hair erect rose on my head,
And through my frame with freezing touch the creeping terror sped.
He in his right hand held a staff, and in his left a key,
And with the mouth to-me-ward turn'd these words he spake to me--
"Fear not, pains-taking bard, whose pen doth chronicle the days,
Receive my word with faithful ear, and sound it in thy lays.
When earth was young, primeval speech first call'd me Chaos; I
Am no birth of to-day--a name of hoar antiquity.
This lucid air, and the other three, which elements ye class,
Fire, water, earth, were then one rude and undigested mass;
But soon within the mingled heap a secret strife did brew,
And to self-chosen homes anon the hostile atoms flew.
First rose the flame sublime, the air assumed the middle berth,
And to the central base were bound strong ocean, and firm earth.
Then I, till then a mass confused, a huge and shapeless round,
New features worthy of a god, and worthy members found;
Still of my primal shapeless bulk remain'd the little trace,
That I alone have no true back, but show both ways a face.
One cause thou hast; another hear, and with my figure know,
My virtue and my power above, my office here below.
Whate'er thou see'st, the earth, the sea, the air, the fiery cope,
At my command they shut their gates, at my command they ope.
I of the vasty universe do hold the secret key,
The hinge of every thing that turns is turn'd alone by me.
Peace, when I please to send her forth from her secure retreats,
Walks freely o'er the unfenced fields, and treads free-gated streets;
The mighty globe would quake convulsed by blood and murderous din,
Did not my brazen bolt confine the store of strife within.
The gates of Heaven are mine; I watch there with the gentle Hours,
That Jove supreme must wait my time in the Olympian bowers.
Thence my name Janus;[13] thence the priest who on my altar places
The salted cake, the sacred meal, with strange-mouth'd titles graces
My hoary deity; thence you hear Patulcius now, and now
Clusius, crown the votive gift, and seal the mystic vow.[14]
Thus rude antiquity at first its simple creed confess'd,
And with twin words the functions twain of one same god express'd.
My power you know--the god of gates--now for my figure, why?
The cause is plain, and may be read by half a poet's eye.
There is no door but looks two ways; into the busy street
This way, and that way back towards the quiet Lar's retreat;[15]
And as the porter whom you place to keep watch at your gate,
Sees who goes out and who comes in at early hour and late,
Thus I, the warden of the sky, from heaven's wide-tented blue,
Look forth, and scan both east and west with comprehensive view.
The triform image you have seen, and any where may see,
Of Hecate standing at the point where one road parts in three;
Thus I, lest turning of my neck my function might delay,
The motive world on either side without a move survey."
Thus spake the god with friendly mien and eye, that seem'd to say--
"If wish be yours to question more, command me; I obey."
Due thanks I gave; strong fear no more my eager tongue possess'd,
And with a look that sought the ground, the immortal I address'd.
"This would I know, why frosty days and storms begin the year,
Which flowery spring had usher'd in with more auspicious cheer;
Then all things flourish--all things then of youth and freshness tell,
The juicy vine begins to flow, the bud begins to swell;
With fresh green leaves the tree is clad, a virgin sheen appears,
The bursting seed above the ground the fresh green blade uprears.
With fresh full-throated warblings then the blithe birds stir the air,
And lamb and lambkin in the mead their frisking sports prepare.
Then suns are mild; its south retreat the stranger swallow leaves,
And skilful builds the well-known clay beneath the lofty eaves.
Then walks the ploughman forth; the clod yields to the sturdy steer;
Soothly the fittest time was this to omen in the year."
My words were many, but in words few and well-chosen, He,
Within the compass of two lines, thus made reply to me.
"What time the sun that sunk before mounts loftier to the view,
This fitliest closed the parting year, and usher'd in the new."
I ask'd again, "Why on this day the forum's strife should end
Only in part."--"The cause," said he, "I will explain; attend.
The young year's starting day I made but partial holiday,
Lest labourless begun, the year might run to the end in play;
Each cunning hand on Janus' feast makes prelude to his trade,
Of all the rest a timely test on New-Year's day is made."
Then I, this further--"Tell me why, when I bring frankincense
To Jove or any other god, with thee I still commence?"
"Because of things in heaven and earth I hold the sacred key,
The first approach to all the gods is made alone through me."
"But on thy kalends, why are men, so harsh on other days,
Keen to return the kindly look, and change the friendly phrase?"
To this the god, his strong right hand upon his good staff leaning,
"All ominous things when first observed speak out their fateful meaning.
To the first voice of things that cry, ye lend a trembling ear,
And the first flight of bodeful wings fills pious hearts with fear.
The ears are open of the gods, to catch on New-Year's day
What random words, or thoughtless prayer, a hasty fool may say."
Thus ceased the god; nor slow was I the broken thread to join,
But of the last words that he spake, thus trode the heels with mine.
"But what have dates to do with thee, and wrinkled figs, this tell,
And what the honey dew that drops pure from its snowy cell?"[16]
"Here, too, an omen lies," he said; "the cause is passing clear,
That from sweet things a savour sweet may relish the whole year."
Thus taught, the cause I understood of dates, and figs, and honey;
"But tell me now, wise god!" I said, "what means the piece of money?"
He smiled. "Alas! how much thy age deceives thy wit," he said;
"As if sweet honey by the touch of gold were sweeter made.
Even in good Saturn's day, 'twas hard to find a heart all pure,
From the infection of base gain, and gainful lust secure.
Small at the birth, it grew apace the thirst of yellow ore,
Till heap on heap ye pile so high, that ye can pile no more.
Not so the measure was of wealth in Rome's primeval time,
When all was poor that now is rich, and low that's now sublime;
When a small hut was all that held the son of Mars divine,
And gather'd reeds were all the couch on which he drain'd the wine;
When Jove within his narrow cell erect could scarcely stand,
An earthen Jove, and of base clay the bolt that arm'd his hand.
When with wild-flowers the fane was deck'd that now with jewels gleams,
And his own sheep the senator fed near the rural streams;
When gently woo'd by healthy sleep the rustic warrior lay
On straw, and praised above all down a truss of bristling hay;
When to give laws to Rome the peasant consul left the plough,
And gold was then as great a crime as 'tis a virtue now.
But when our fates were lifted high, and to the stars sublime,
Perch'd on her base of seven-hill'd state proud Rome had learn'd to
climb;
Wealth grew with power, and lust of wealth, a madness of the brain,
And still the more that they possess'd, the more they sought to gain.
Eager to make that they might spend, spending to make anew,
Change nursed by change of fell extremes to monstrous nature grew;
Thus he whose sickly body swells with water in the veins,
The more he drinks, the more within the thirsty fever reigns.
All things are prized by price; to wealth all honours now are sure;
Wealth buys the rich man friends; forlorn and friendless pines the poor.
If now you ask why copper coins are chiefly my delight,
The ancient brass of Rome should I, the ancient Janus, slight?
Brass was their wealth of old; though now the better omen's gold,
And the new metal from the field has fairly beat the old.
Myself, though simple and severe, approve a golden shrine--
This metal hath a majesty that suits a power divine.
We praise the ancients, and 'tis well; but use our modern ways--
All fashions in due time and place are worthy of our praise."
Thus ceased the god; but I, to set all rising doubts at rest,
The hoar key-bearer of the sky thus with meek words address'd:--
"Much I have learn'd; but tell me this--why of our copper coin
Does one side bear a ship, and one a double head like thine?"[17]
"That head is mine; you might have known the likeness of the face
But that hoar age and wear have dull'd the sharpness of the trace.
As for the ship, attend: the god that bears the scythe whilcome
Far-wandering in the Tuscan flood at length had ceased to roam.[18]
Well I remember when he came, and hold the memory dear--
Saturn, by Jove expell'd from heaven, and kindly welcom'd here.
Thence was the land Saturnia call'd; and Latium still we name
The part where ancient Saturn lurk'd in safety when he came.[19]
Our pious sires upon the brass the sacred ship impress'd,
Whose keel to blest Ausonian shores had borne the Olympian guest.
Then on that spot I made my home where Tiber's waters glide,
And eat the yielding banks away with sandy-rolling tide.
Here, where Rome stands, wild copse green grew; the busy forum now
Was then a peaceful glen, disturb'd by wandering oxen's low.
My fortress then was that same hill which pious Rome reveres
Even now, and thinks on Janus when Janiculum she hears.
Here I was king, when holy earth of heavenly guests could tell,
And in the haunts of men the gods were not ashamed to dwell;
Ere Justice, shrinking from the sight of human guilt and crime,
Last of immortals left the earth, and sought the starry clime;
When hearts were sway'd by love, and held by bonds of holy awe,
And light the labour was to shape for willing hearts the law.
Stern war I knew not, and the gates I held were gates of peace;
While in my hand the key declared--Let garner'd stores increase!"
Here closed the god his lips; but I, not bashful, open'd mine,
And with the mortal voice again unseal'd the voice divine.
"Since many gates are thine in Rome, say why dost thou appear
In perfect shape and size nowhere but at the forums here?"[20]
Whereto the god, with gentle hand stroking his long beard hoary,
Forthwith recounted in my ear OEbalian Tatius' story;
And how, by Sabine gauds ensnared, the fair and faithless maid
The path that to the Capitol leads to the Sabine lord betray'd.
"As there is now, so then there was, a slope by which you go
Steep from the citadel to the plain, and forum stretch'd below;
And now the twain had reach'd the gate where Juno's partial ward
The only bolts that closed their way propitiously unbarr'd,
When I, too wise with Saturn's seed in open fight to join,
Contrived a scheme that baffled hers, a plan entirely mine;
I oped (in opening lies my strength) a gate where waters slept,
And from the solid rock straightway a stream impetuous leapt;
To the hot spring such sulphurous steams my timely aid supplied
That eager Tatius quail'd and shrunk back from the rolling tide.
The Sabines fled; the gushing fount miraculous ceased to flow;
Nor pious Rome to own the power that sent such aid was slow;
A little altar on a shrine not large to Janus' name
Was raised; there sprinkled meal and cake smokes mingled with the flame."
"But this say further,--why thy gates in war are open, why
In peace are closed?" whereto the god thus gave the prompt reply;
"That till her sons fierce war have quench'd, and crush'd the crude
revolt,
Rome to receive the homeward host may keep unbarr'd the bolt;
In peace my locks are closed, that none may causeless leave his home,
Nor few the years I shall be closed while Cæsar reigns in Rome."
Thus spake the god; and lifting high his head of diverse view,
Scann'd east and west, and all that's spread beneath the ethereal blue;
And peace rein'd o'er wide earth; ev'n where i' the north, with surly
wave,
The rebel Rhine to Cæsar's arms their latest triumph gave;
Peace, hoary Janus, make thou sure for ever; and may they
Who purchased peace embrace the globe with everlasting sway.

TO A BLIND GIRL.

I do not sigh as some may sigh,
To see thee in thy darkness led
Along the path where sunbeams lie,
And bloom is shed.

I do not weep as some may weep,
Upon thy rayless brow to look;
A boon more rare 'twas thine to keep,
When light forsook.

A glorious boon! Thou shalt not view
One treasure from the earth depart--
Its starry buds, its pearls of dew,
Lie in thy heart.

No need to heed the frosty air,
No need to heed the blasts that chafe,
The scatter'd sheaf, the vintage spare--
_Thy hoard is safe_.

Thou shalt not mark the silent change
That falls upon the heart like blight,
The smile that grows all cold and strange.--
Bless'd is thy night!

Thou shalt not watch the slow decay,
Nor see the ivy clasp the fane,
Nor trace upon the column gray
The mildew stain.

_Ours_ is the darkness--thine the light.
Within thy brow a glory plays;
Shrine, blossom, dewdrop, all are bright
With quenchless rays.

J. D.

THE FORCED SALE.