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Fifth Sories, Volume XXXIII.
No. 1910. – January 22, 1881.
S From Beginning,
Blackwood's Magazine, IV. VISITED ON THE CHILDREN.
Part VII., All The Year Round, V, LORD EDWARD FITZGERALD,
Temple Bar, VI. “ABOUT BEING WELL-INFORMED,”
Spectator, VII. ON SHAKING HANDS,
Golden Hours, VIII. THE DEATH OF ANAXAGORAS,
Contemporary Review, .
219 233 242 250 254 255
THE DEATH OF THE YEAR, .
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY
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for me ;
THE DEATH OF THE YEAR.
SONGS OF THE SCIENCES. - ZOOLOGY. A CLOUD came out of the golden west,
Oh! merry is the Madrepore that sits beside A bell rang over the silent air, The sun-god hurried away to rest,
The cheery little Coralline hath many charms Flushing with kisses each cloud he prest, And oh! but the day was fair!
I love the fine Echinoderms of azure, green, “How brightly the year goes out!” they said ; | That handled roughly fling their arms impul“The glow of the sunset lingers long,
sively away: Knowing the year will be over and dead, Then bring me here the microscope and let Its sad hours over its sweet hours fled
me see the cells, With service of evensong."
Wherein the little Zoophyte like garden
floweret dwells. “How sadly the year came in !” they said.
I listened and wondered in dusk of night, To me no year that might come instead
We'll take the fair Anemone from off its rocky Of the old friend numbered among the dead
seat, Could ever be half so bright.
Since Rondeletius has said when fried 'tis
good to eat; The sun-kissed clouds grew pale and grey,
Dyspeptics from Sea-Cucumbers a lesson well The bells hung silent in high mid-air, Waiting to ring the year away,
They blithely take their organs out and then In strains that were ever too glad and gay
put fresh ones in. For me - as I listened there.
The Rotifer in whirling round may surely bear
the bell, Oh, hearts ! that beat in a million breasts, With Oceanic Hydrozoids that Huxley knows Oh, lips ! that utter the same old phrase,
so well. I wonder that never a sorrow rests In words you utter to friends and guests You've heard of the Octopus, 'tis a pleasant In the new year's strange new days !
thing to know, Is it just the same as it used to be?
He has a ganglion makes him blush not red,
but white as snow; Have new years only a gladder sound ? For ever and always it seems to me
And why the strange Cercaria, to go a long That no new face can be sweet to see As the old ones we have found.
Wears ever, as some ladies do, a fashionable
And how the Prawn has parasites that on his There is no cloud in the darkened west,
head make holes, The bell is silent in misty air,
Ask Doctor Cobbold, and he'll say they're just The year has gone to its last long rest,
like tiny soles. And I who loved and who knew it best Shall meet it — God knows where !
Then study well zoology, and add unto your All The Year Round.
store, The tales of biogenesis and protoplasmic lore : As Paley neatly has observed, when into life
The frog and the philosopher are just the same BEFORE THE DAYBREAK.
But what's the origin of life remains a puzzle BEFORE the daybreak shines a star
still, That in the day's great glory fades;
Let Tyndall, Haeckel, Bastian go wrangle as Too fiercely bright is the full light
they will. That her pale-gleaming lamp upbraids.
Punch. Before the daybreak sings a bird
That stills her song ere morning light:
FROM THE SICILIAN OF VICORTAI.
LOVE-TEST. And rich the prize, to rank divine
LASSIE wi’ the face sae bonnie, Among the world's loud choristers.
An' the bricht bewitchin' ee,
Is there, tell me, is there ony But I would be that paler star,
Danger I can dare for thee? And I would be that lonelier bird ;
That I lo'e thee thou mayst know it, To shine with hope, while hope's afar,
But it's hard for me to bear And sing of love, when love's unheard.
A' my love till I can show it Spectator.
F. W. B.
By some danger I maun dare !
From The Edinburgh Review. tinued the practice with undiminished SAINT-SIMON'S PARALLEL OF THREE assiduity throughout his active life, the KINGS.*
“Memoirs,” as we now possess them in a Not often does it happen that the vast voluminous manuscript completely tranocean of literature casts upon our shores scribed by his own hand, were the proa pearl of great price amongst the weeds duction of his later years.* He had and rubbish of the times. But this vol- withdrawn in 1723 from the court, being ume claims a conspicuous place in the then only forty-eight years of age. The classical literature of France and of Eu- sudden death of the Duke of Orleans by rope. It is a work of the eighteenth - a stroke of apoplexy in that year severed we might almost say, from its style, of the last tie which bound him to his conthe seventeenth-century, the most splen- temporaries. Thenceforth he lived altodid period in the history of French let- gether in the past – he lived over again ters; but its existence was till lately un- those years from 1691 to 1723, to which known to the world, for it lay buried in his pen was destined to give an immortal the accumulated masses of the Saint-Si- shape and coloring. And he survived mon manuscripts, still jealously guarded his retirement thirty-two years. These and preserved in the Foreign Archives of years were spent in his country-seat at La Paris. So little was the real character and Ferté, and during the whole of this period, value of this “Parallel” understood that down to his death at the age of eighty in it is referred to by M. Lefèvre-Pontalis, 1755, the habit of writing continued to be in the excellent essay which was crowned the chief occupation and amusement of by the French Academy in 1855, as the his existence. There is not another exproduction of Duke Claude de Saint-Si. ample in literary history of so voluminous mon, the father of the illustrious author an author, writing with no prospect of of the “ Memoirs,” and not of his son, gain or of fame - nec lucri nec fama spe which was impossible, because it refers adlectatus — uncertain whether he would to events long subsequent to the death ever be read at all, certain that, if read by of the first duke. M. Faugère has been posterity, a century at least must pass engaged for the last eight years in a care. before the results of his prodigious and ful examination of the Saint-Simon manu- indefatigable labors could be known to scripts, consisting, no doubt, in great part, the world. But literature is no ungrateful of the journals, notes, and materials from mistress. The treasures of the past which which tbe “Memoirs were transcribed. are placed in her keeping are repaid with He proposes to publish in six volumes a interest. The modesty or the indifference selection of the most valuable portion of of this silent writer who cast his bread these documents, and in the forefront of upon the waters has been recompensed his work he has placed the biographical after many days by a higher rank than essay now before us, which has been that of his ducal honors, and he will live hailed by the most competent judges as a forever amongst the greatest annalists of masterpiece of this great author, bearing his own country, amongst the keenest obon almost every page the stamp of the servers of human nature. A recent critic, full maturity of his genius.
commenting on some observations of our Saint-Simon was seventy-two years of own, has remarked that Saint-Simon is age when he resolved in 1746 to write this one of the authors who are more talked parallel of the three great Bourbon kings, about than read. We cannot verify the Henry IV., Louis XIII., and Louis XIV. truth of this assertion, but in our judg. Although he began to keep a journal of the events of his time in 1694, when he * The mode in which Saint-Simon composed his was only nineteen years old, and con- discussed at considerable length in an article published
“Memoirs," and the date at which they were written, are
by ourselves in No. 243 of this journal in January, 1864, • Ecrits Inédits de Saint-Simon publiés sur les to which we may refer our readers. manuscrits conservés au Dépôt des Affaires Etran- needless to revert to this subject. The“ Parallel” was séres. Par M. P. FAUGERE. Tome Premier: Paral- undoubtedly written after the “Memoirs lèle des trois premiers Rois Bourbons.
It is therefore
ment'the “Memoirs ” of Saint-Siinon are obtained a copy of the journal of that one of the few modern works which pos. sedulous courtier, which he covered with sess, like the ancient classics or like notes in the earlier years of his retireShakespeare, an inexhaustible interest. ment. These notes and other materials If one has nothing else to read or to do, were transferred into the “Memoirs,” they are always attractive and interesting. which were completed between the years Lile itself would be duller without their 1740 and 1746. This fact is proved by company. Every page is alive. Every the insertion of numerous references to personage comes before one in his proper occurrences of that late period — for inhabit. A man well read in Saint-Simon stance, the death of Philip V. of Spain, knows the court of Louis XIV. better which took place in 1746. The introducthan he knows the court of Victoria. tion to the “Memoirs
is dated 1743, We guess at the characters and motives and the whole manuscript was written off of our contemporaries; we judge, and clean by Saint-Simon himself, without ad. think we know, the characters and mo- ditions, insertions, or corrections. Havtives which are stamped on the page of ing then completed this extraordinary history. No doubt the passionate style labor, he appears to have thought that in which Saint-Simon wrote is the main the time was come to execute a long-chersecret of his attractive power. M. de ished design of writing an exact historical Sainte-Beuve called him the Rubens of comparison of the characters and reigns the court of Louis XIV., from the strength of Henry IV., Louis XIII., and Louis and color he threw upon the canvas. We XIV., dictated mainly by a romantic dehave heard an equally great authority desire to vindicate the fame of Louis scribe him as the Rembrandt of history, XIII., which had, and has, doubtless because out of his vast irregular senten- been eclipsed by that of his father and ces, rising as they proceed in force and his son. passion - a turbid cloud of words, wholly unlike the order and purity of French tice commonly done to Louis XIII., between
I will not deny that impatience of the injus. composition flashes forth at last an ex- his father and his son, has ever inspired me pression or an epithet which illuminates with the desire to set it right, both by convicthe whole passage and brands it on the tion and by feeling. That feeling is gratitude. memory: It took more than a century My father owed to that prince all his fortune, for the French to comprehend such a | I therefore all I am.
All I have reminds me style, which is to the established tradi- of his benefits. I wait in vain that some one tions of French prose what Gothic archi- else, who lived by his favors, and more capable tecture is to Greek. When Madame du than myself, should be sufficiently mindful of Deffand was first allowed to have these them to rescue his benefactor from this intolmanuscripts read to her, she told Horace erable oppression. No one in all these years Walpole that they were vastly amusing; much ingratitude and ignorance drives me to
has attempted it. At last indignation at so but mal écrits : just as Swift said of
take up the pen, but with the most scrupulous Bishop Burnet (who is the nearest apo observance of truth, which alone gives a value proach we possess to Saint-Simon) that and inspires belief. he bad “an ill style.” But now the victory is complete. In a form essentially Louis XIII, had been dead one hundifferent from his own, Bossuet himself dred and three years when these lines has found a rival where he never sus- were written, But a century had not pected it. Saint-Simon ranks with the extinguished the ardent feelings of gratifinest French writers, and this volume tude and affection cherished in the house may be ranked amongst the chefs d'æuvre of Saint-Simon, and, we must add, re
vived even in our time in the house of We have said that he was seventy-two Luynes, for the late Duke de Luynes when he wrote it. It is now ascertained erected a statue in solid silver, in the hall with tolerable certainty that after the at Dampierre, to the memory of the benedeath of Dangeau in 1720 Saint-Simon factor of his race. For fifty years Saint
of his pen.
Simon never failed to make a pilgrimage related to him by his own father, but this to the tomb of the king at St. Denis on must have been before he was eighteen, May 14, the anniversary of his death ; scarcely more than a boy; in speaking of and an ever-burning lamp hung for more Louis XIV., each scene rises before his than a century before the king's bust in eyes, for he had witnessed it. He had the chapel of La Ferté. He was the often described those scenes before. Evpatron of the family; and it is not won- ery incident was familiar to him; yet the derful that Saint-Simon, in whom all the story gained by repetition. Nowhere is traditions of his race were sacred and the close of the great tragedy, the death unchangeable, should have held his own of the king, related with such power as in literary life to be incomplete until he had these pages. Saint Simon had a natura! endeavored to vindicate the character and gift of eloquence and an unequalled origthe reign of his father's royal friend, even inal faculty of description a touch did at the risk of exaggeration, since he was it, and every touch told. But he was not prompted by these feelings to draw a a finished artist. With all his gifts and picture of Louis XIII. which might pass all his industry, he was too much a grand for that of a hero and a saint. The par. seigneur to correct what he wrote. He allel is in fact a panegyric even more knew that his sketches were loose and than an apology. It must be read as sometimes incoherent — but what of that? such. But, without sharing the enthusi. He was not an author. He wrote under asm of the writer, we think that he raises an irrepressible impulse to write — more considerably the character of Louis XIII., for himself than for other people. We whose fate it has been to be overshadowed question whether he had any clear idea by his predecessor and by his successor, of the future fate of his manuscripts – and above all by his own minister, Riche a perilous inheritance: was it worth while lieu.*
to polish and revise them? Perhaps We are not insensible to the defects of they would have lost something of their this work. It is full of repetitions, which rugged grandeur if he had attempted the are sometimes tedious ; it is full of those task. We like them more with the fierce prejudices which were rooted and in- irregularity of an earlier age, than if the grained in the mind of Saint-Simon. If varnish of the eighteenth century had he delights to raise Louis XIII. to the been smeared over them. light, it is partly because by the effect of contrast he throws the latter years of The chronology of the Bourbon kings Louis XIV. into darker shades of gloom of France is in itself curious, and may and horror. The plan of the work is suggest reflections to our readers. There not happy. In speaking of Henry IV. were but five of them, from the extinction he writes from tradition; in speaking of of the bouse of Valois in 1589 to the Louis XIII. he writes from anecdotes French Revolution, which began exactly
two centuries later. From the birth of The character of Louis XIII. by Nicolas Goulas, Henry of Navarre in 1553 to the death who was not in his service but in that of his brother, is of Louis XVI. in 1794, a period of no perhaps more just, though less highly colored than that less than two hundred and forty-one of Saint-Simon. “I must show you," he says, King Louis XIII. as a very different man from the years elapsed. These sovereigns sucordinary descriptions of him, and from what he was ceeded each other by direct lineal descent, supposed to be, for he had fine qualities, a great heart, a but Louis XV. was the great grandson, great mind, a perfect intelligence of war; he was capable oi counsel, jealous of his authority, a good judge of the and Louis XVI. the grandson, of their strong and the weak in mankind, fearing God, loving respective predecessors. During the justice, ardent for the glory of his country and his reign, same period, no less than ten sovereigns in dread of his brother and the queen his mother; but reigned in England, besides the Common. his clief defect was a distrust of himself, for, imagining wealth. Within this era, and within the that he would make mistakes if he stood alone at the lives of these five men, the entire history helm, he made the most deplorable mistake of all in surrendering it entirely to those whom he called to of the old Bourbon monarchy is comoffice under him. (Mémoires de Goulas, vol. i., p. 16.) | prised. The parallel written by Saint
but harsh to his kinsfolk and severe to all. He lived