CHAPTER XXXI.

A TRIP TO THE NORTH--METRICAL ATTEMPTS--CONTRASTS--PARIS: A FAIR--A REVIEW--NADAR'S BALLOON--SPORT, TURF, BOXING--LIQUOR VEHICLES--NO HODS--A HORSE, A DOG, RATS.

I took a run to Belfast in 1862, and from thence through Carrickfergus, and along the coast-road to the Giant's Causeway, where I spent two days most agreeably. At the Causeway hotel I met several gentlemen, to one of whom I was known, and by him was introduced to the others. Their society was extremely pleasant; for although they differed in their views and opinions on certain subjects, their conversation was completely free from acerbity. In referring to the preference of certain colors by the inhabitants of northern or southern districts, an anecdote was related of a wrangle between two young fellows who had come from very distant parts of Ireland, to be employed in one of the great monetary establishments of Dublin, and who resided at Sandymount. I have not introduced into my preceding pages any expressions indicative of political or religious preferences, and I think that the "wrangle" may be submitted to the perusal of all parties or sects without offending their feelings or exciting their prejudices. I thought it curious and amusing, and it induced me to attempt to narrate, in a versified form, the antagonistic tendencies of--

GREEN AND ORANGE--ORANGE AND GREEN.

"There is a flow'r I dearly love, and which with pride I bear Upon my head, or next my heart, none with it can compare; It is the Orange Lily, to which glorious memories cling, Of Derry, Boyne, or Aughrim, 'twill the recollection bring. Some roots I have procured to plant, and when their flow'rs appear, I'll hail them as the emblems of the cause I hold most dear." Thus spoke a sturdy Northern lad. A Munster boy was nigh, And heard the words which, he conceived, an insult did imply. "I hate, I loathe your gaudy flow'r," disdainfully he cried; "It shall not grow, its tints to show, wherever I abide. Your lily shall be trampled if it ever meets my sight." The blood of both was thus aroused and eager for a fight; An aged man reproved them, bade their bitter taunts to cease, And then suggested that his taste each might indulge in peace. "My friend, I'll plant your lily, let its color glad your eyes, No hateful green shall intervene to rival its rich dyes. There's space enough throughout the land where those who love to see The verdant hue may freely view the sod, the shrub, the tree." The old man took the lily roots entrusted to his care, With which the rival youths agreed no more to interfere. In genial soil, of aspect warm, at once he planted them, But as each primal leaf arose he nipp'd it from the stem. He said the green must not appear the orange flow'r beside, The blossom bright should meet the sight in undisputed pride. But then the blossom, lone and bare, without the friendly aid Of leaves to shield its rising stem soon wither'd and decay'd. The abortive root unto the youths the old man then display'd. "Both colors are essential to the perfect flow'r," he said. "You cannot have the orange if the green you take away, The plant affords a lesson--may it reach your hearts, I pray."

METRICAL ATTEMPTS.

I shall venture to offer two or three more productions to the readers of these pages. If my metrical attempts are considered even below mediocrity, they will serve to make others more acceptable. The coarse, homely attire of the peasant is a foil tending strongly to enhance admiration for the courtly costumes of the upper classes; and the weeds that blossom in our hedgerows, or on the sides of our highways, render us unconsciously more appreciative of the floral beauties displayed in the gardens of aristocratic mansions. My own recollections enable me to compare much of the past with the present, and render me desirous of endeavouring to describe some of the changes which have occurred since--

LONG AGO.

Yon tree whose massive timber The storms assail in vain, I've seen a sapling limber A child might rend in twain; And in the churchyard yonder, It's planter's lying low, Whilst on its growth I ponder, And think of LONG AGO.

Yon brook that quickly courses To turn the busy mill, Then spent its unclaim'd forces Adown the heath-clad hill. The heather to plantation Has yielded, and below, A bustling railway station Contrasts with LONG AGO.

The breeze is freshly blowing Full in yon harbour's face, And yet some craft are going Their wat'ry way to trace. The adverse wind unheeding, The waves aside they throw; By steam their journey speeding-- How changed from LONG AGO.

I meet a friend--he mentions That news of import grand, O'er half the earth's dimensions Has reach'd the Irish land. Th' events occurr'd this morning, And now each fact we know By an electric warning, Undreamt of LONG AGO.

The village school is ending Its labours for the day, Each child, released, is wending Its joyous homeward way. Blithe be their youthful gambols, Uncheck'd by care or woe, As were my boyhood's rambles, How long, how LONG AGO.

And as my tott'ring paces Proceed, there's at my side One whom for varied graces I gladly make my bride. Her dark hair then contrasted With locks now tinged with snow, But still our love has lasted The same as LONG AGO.

Thus let it be for ever-- Let Youth enjoy its time; Let Age, contented, never Regret its vanish'd prime. Life's joys, life's hopes, life's duties, Each passing year will show, And retrospective beauties Appear in LONG AGO.

Amongst the pictures which have, within my memory, been exhibited in Dublin, one painted by Paul Delaroche was regarded by me with surpassing admiration, in which feeling I was certainly not singular, for I found it equally appreciated by many others who viewed it at Le Sage's in Sackville Street. It was said to have originated in an extraordinary reverie of the artist, who, whilst suffering from fever, imagined that he beheld the corpse of a young and beautiful female, whose hands and feet had been tightly bound, drifting along a deep and rapid river. On recovering from his malady, Delaroche delineated this vision, and then considered what title he should give the production. On searching the records of martyrdom he could not discover the name of any sainted victim of persecution who had perished in the manner indicated; but finding that the Emperor Diocletian had, about the year of our Lord 300, caused some hundreds of his Christian subjects to be drowned in the Tiber for refusing to abjure their faith, he named the picture "La Martyre Chretienne." It has been engraved, lithographed, and photographed so much, as to evince a general admiration of the conception and artistic power of the painter. I have written some lines on this subject, and have endeavoured to adopt the metre of Ariosto, which I consider not unsuitable to an incident connected with Italy and the ancient days of the Eternal City. The concluding stanza alludes to the lambent circle which, in the painting, appears above the head of--

THE CHRISTIAN MARTYR.

The sedgy margin of his yellow stream Beholds old Tiber rolling to the main, In eddies silver'd by the struggling beam, Wooing the ripples which it can't retain. A mutual mockery, a vap'ry dream, Illusive, unsubstantial, cold, and vain As human hopes, like ev'rything of earth, Passing, unpausing, dying e'en in birth.

That river has beheld the glorious day When chaste Lucretia's wrongs awoke the ire That freed her country from the Tarquin's sway; Upon that bank Virginia from her sire, Loathing the brutal Appius to obey, When in his breast there raged a base desire, In her pure heart received the fatal knife, Preferring death to a dishonor'd life.

Upon that bank in youthful beauty stood The virgin Cloelia, when with high disdain She scorn'd Porsenna's pow'r, and deem'd the flood Was easier to stem than tyrant's chain Could be endured; and there the multitude Of foes on Cocles fiercely press'd in vain, There, one 'gainst thousands, he maintain'd his post, And foil'd the foremost of Etruria's host.

Upon that classic bank did Mutius stand, And in the midst of his astonish'd foes Upon the altar there he placed his hand Unshrinking, round it whilst the flames arose, To show th' invader of his native land How he could scorn the torture's fiercest throes, And that no tyrant's power could be secure Against a patriot's purpose, firm and pure.

All these were high and noble in their daring, In distant ages were their deeds achieved, But they had earthly motives strongly bearing Them onward in their course, for they believed That man would honor them. Nor scant nor sparing Has been the classic fame they have received, And history still delights to gild her pages With deeds like theirs from Rome's incipient ages.

But still old Tiber's course hath onward sped, And other incidents of higher fame Have on his banks a holy lustre shed, There Diocletian did his will proclaim-- That to the ancient stream there should be led His Christian subjects, and the sacred name Of Christ should be abjured, or Tiber's wave Should those engulf who own'd His pow'r to save.

In youthful innocence a beauteous maid Stands 'mongst the victims doom'd with lips compress'd, And eyes already closed--she hath essay'd To banish earthly thoughts. Upon her breast Her hands are folded--she hath meekly pray'd, And He to whom her pray'r has been address'd, To whom she clings all faithful, gives her pow'r To meet the terrors of life's closing hour.

They bind her hands--she heeds not the infliction Of cords that sink into her tender limb; She, thinking of her Saviour's crucifixion-- Her soul hath flown to Calvary to Him. She meekly hears each heathen malediction, Heav'n seems to ope as earth appears more dim; Her fate severe for thrones she would not barter, And now she sinks--a Christian Maiden Martyr!

Her form is slowly gliding to the sea, Her soul to Paradise its way is winging, Upon her pallid face serenity Shows that to earth her heart was never clinging; To all the elements her corse may be Abandoned, but the seraph choir is singing, And chaplets fairer than the flow'rs of Eden In Heav'n shall deck the martyr'd Christian maiden.

Still o'er her drifting form a circlet golden Upon the river sheds its lambent rays, As though it would the lively hope embolden The martyr's truth shall shine in future days, And when her bones have moulder'd deep and cold in Their ocean grave, men shall accord their praise To him whose reverie or vision mystic Her suff'rings shall depict with grace artistic.

The following lines were suggested by a visit to an extensive paper manufactory at Inchicore, which, I regret to say, is not working at present:--

I stray'd along a village street, And as in listless mood I wander'd, The breeze had wafted to my feet Something on which awhile I ponder'd.

Was it a precious talisman, Whose magic tracings doth unfold A right by which its bearer can Claim and obtain the treasured gold?

Was it a flow'r with tints array'd Such as the vernal suns bestow, Richer than monarch e'er display'd, Was it a fragrant flowret? No!

Was it a feather dropt away From some wild bird of varied hues? From moors whereon the plovers stray, Or groves wherein the ringdove coos?

Was it the down the thistle yields, That sails through air like drifting snow? Or fairy flax from fenny fields, Or plume from warrior's helmet? No!

Or manhood's locks, or maiden's hair, Wafted by breeze through village street? Nor this, nor these--but lying there A filthy rag was at my feet.

With dirt begrimed, that remnant mean, Crushed in the mire, I saw no more; But yet I mused on what had been Its various uses heretofore.

The great, the humble, grave or gay, Noble or base, whoe'er it clothed, Reject it now, and cast away, 'Tis only seen but to be loathed.

Such were my thoughts till slumber came, And then by fancy's vivid light Methought that rag, the very same-- Appear'd again before my sight.

No longer were its folds defiled, But pure and white it seem'd as snow, And 'neath a roller whirling wild, I saw the worthless fragment go.

And bleach'd and clean, by that machine 'Twas triturated fast; And when 'twas found completely ground, O'er wires its pulp was pass'd.

And on and on that rag hath gone, 'Neath cylinders I traced it, And there it roll'd through heat and cold, Whilst giant force embraced it.

And I could mark th' electric spark[22] Gleam like a fairy taper; And fair and smooth as the brow of youth, That filthy rag was PAPER.

Material fit for Holy Writ And tidings of salvation-- Material grand for a struggling land, When seeking liberation.

Material proud to warn aloud 'Gainst slavery's subtle meshes-- Material true to teach the few The many's rights are precious.

Material meet for tidings sweet Of distant recollection-- Material best to purge each breast Of Bigotry's infection.

Material bright to guide and light The onward march of Reason-- Oh! that old rag has form'd a flag For man's best thoughts to blazon.

Then may its use each day produce, From pen and press united, Each noble thought by which we ought To feel our souls excited.

May Honor grand, with Virtue bland, Inspire it and direct it, Till wheresoe'er 'tis hoisted, there That flag shall be respected.

In the pages which I have yet to submit to the indulgent consideration of my readers, it is not my intention to continue the insertion of specimens of my metrical tendencies. The remainder of my reminiscences are chiefly derived from a residence of eighteen months in Paris in 1864-5. That city has been subjected to much suffering amongst her inhabitants, and to the destruction of magnificent palatial and municipal edifices since the time to which my visit refers; and the Imperial dynasty, that then seemed perfectly secure against Bourbon rivalry or republican designs, has experienced a complete extinction, without any apparent chance of its revival. Notwithstanding all the changes which have occurred within the last ten years, I feel convinced that there are many sights which the French capital can still present to the observation of a traveller from this country, and which will remain indelibly impressed on his memory, either through their intrinsic beauty or magnificence, or still more by the marked contrast they exhibit to objects similar in name here, but in which the name is the only resemblance. He who reflects on the presence of some objects and the absence of others, will be frequently more astonished at not seeing than in beholding. I think that this remark can be exemplified. There is a fair in Paris which is held, during the entire month of January, on the Boulevards, extending from the Madeleine to the Place de la Bastille, a distance of about three English miles. It is resorted to by the most respectable classes. There are wooden booths erected at both sides of the Boulevard, on the footways; and the articles offered for sale comprise "everything, and anything else you may wish for." Children have their toys and confections. Hats, lamps, shoes, boots, jewels, hosiery, glass, birds, mountebanks, newspapers, portable baths, guns, groceries, gloves, cutlery, false teeth, false beards, false eyes, false legs, tempt the adults. There are, however, no horses, cattle, sheep, or swine offered for sale, the live stock, consisting only of poultry, rabbits, pigeons, and Guinea-pigs. To an Irishman it is a fair only in name. I visited it frequently, and saw it early and late, but I did not hear an altercation or see a fight, or any person intoxicated. Oh, Donnybrook! how different from your defunct glories! How could a Patlander recognise any resemblance in a scene of peaceable amusement, excited and busy, but without a reel or a blow, to the classic spot, where "batin' was chape as dirt" amongst

"Hearts soft with whisky, and heads soft with blows."?

A REVIEW.

I was at a review in honor of the Emperor's birth-day, or perhaps it should be termed the "Napoleon day," for it was held on the 15th of August, 1864, the real natal day of the third Napoleon being the 20th of April, and the other day being the anniversary of the first Napoleon's nativity in 1769. There were more than 100,000 troops on the ground, the Champ de Mars, but nearly the half were National Guards. The concourse of spectators was immense. When his Imperial Majesty arrived, there was not a hat raised, neither was there a shout uttered, nor a shot fired. The troops defiled before him in slow and quick time, and then he departed. I must have been afflicted on that day with temporary deafness, for I saw it announced in several newspapers of the following morning, that his Majesty had been received with the loudest acclamations.

NADAR'S BALLOON.

Neither at the review to which I have adverted, nor at the ascent of Nadar's giant balloon, where a still greater multitude were assembled, did I see an intoxicated person, or witness any disturbance or altercation. I am far from averring that intoxication does not occur amongst the French, but I believe it to be very infrequent. On a summer's evening, in the Avenue de Neuilly, I observed three workmen, and they were inebriated. Each of them was insisting that the other two should carry him, and they successively tried the experiment, but it terminated always in the tumbling of the three. The spectators were laughing, and the fellows themselves seemed to enjoy the fun, without the slightest asperity towards those who indulged in merriment at their falls. I thought that in my own country there would have been a very prompt offer made, by any tipsy fellows who were laughed at, to supply the company present with an immediate assortment of darkened eyes and ensanguined noses.

SPORT, TURF, BOXING.

Some of our words have been pretty generally adopted by the Parisians. "_Sport_" is frequently used in reference to hunting and racing, but I never heard it applied to shooting or coursing; and it is remarkable that the word, with the addition of an "e," also signifies the basket of a mendicant friar. Le _Turf_ is, as a racing term, understood in the same sense as amongst ourselves; and the monosyllable by which we express a pugilistic contest, is used to invite or describe an encounter between two combatants who are unprovided with weapons. Outside a wine-house, at Vaugirard, I witnessed a quarrel, and heard the invitation, "_Voulez-vous box?_" The affair commenced by the parties stripping off their blouses, and then, with raised arms and open hands, capering before each other, as if watching an opportunity to strike. I did not see a box given; for, after a few feints, one combatant gave the other a fearful kick in the pit of the stomach, which stretched him in the greatest agony, and loud acclamations from amongst the bystanders greeted the conqueror. On another occasion, in the Rue de L'oratoire, after a similar challenge, the parties did not strike or kick, but had a wrestle, which terminated in one getting the other down; he then seated himself on his prostrate antagonist, and proceeded to strike him violently on the head with a _sabot_; or wooden shoe, without any interference or disapproval on the part of the persons present. A _sergent de ville_ having seen the crowd, came up, and required the victor to cease hammering his foe. He was instantly obeyed, the vanquished party arose and decamped, and the police-officer walked on without taking any further notice of the affair. A bystander expressed his sympathy with the conqueror, by remarking, that after having gone to the trouble of getting the fellow down, it was a pity that he was not allowed to punish him.

LIQUOR VEHICLES.

I did not at any time in Paris see two persons in attendance on any vehicle used in the conveyance of liquor. One man took charge of a long, narrow dray, on which a number of barrels were placed in two, or perhaps three, tiers; they were secured by ropes passing from rere to front, and there tightened by a kind of capstan, with bars and a catch-bolt. There was also a hinge between the shafts and the body, which allowed the front to be elevated and the rere to be lowered. One man managed this machinery, and could deliver the entire or any part of the load with safety and despatch. The adoption of similar vehicles in the liquor traffic of our country would be decidedly economical; but additional labour would be required to lower large casks into underground cellars, a description of store which is very uncommon in Paris.

NO HODS.

In one of the early productions of my schoolfellow and frequent playmate, Samuel Lover, he narrates an anecdote of two Dublin hodmen, one of whom expressed doubts as to the capability of the other to carry a hod, heavily laden, up a ladder to the roof of a high house. This produced, on the part of the other, a wager of a gallon of porter, that he would carry the very man who had taunted him, in a hod, and deliver him over the parapet, five stories above the street. The bet was made, and one fellow seated himself in the hod, and was carried by the other safely to the roof; he then acknowledged that he had lost, but added, "When you were about five rungs of the ladder from the top, I thought you were getting a little weak, and that _I had a fine chance of winning the gallon_." I do not think such a dangerous wager could arise in Paris, for although very extensive buildings were in progress during my sojourn, I never saw such an implement as a hod there. All the materials were hoisted up by ropes, pulleys, and windlasses. Horse labour was very much used, and small steam-engines were occasionally employed. The lives and limbs of the Parisian workmen were consequently safe from the risks incident to a false step or a rotten rung.

A HORSE, A DOG, RATS.

The French occasionally train animals to exhibit amusing tricks and tendencies; and the surprise of a spectator is not excited so much by what he sees done, as by the conjectures he forms or hears expressed by others, as to the means adopted in bringing animals to the observance of extraordinary habits, or the habitual performance of prescribed duties. When the Messieurs Pereire were building the magnificent structures which form the Boulevard Malesherbes, a large black English horse was employed to raise materials by rope and pulleys. He worked kindly at his laborious task; but as soon as the bell rang for breakfast, dinner, or the termination of the day's work, he stopped, and would not resume until the usual time for feeding or rest had elapsed.

At the corner of the junction of the Rue de Castiglione with the Rue de Rivoli, a shoeblack plied his humble vocation, and derived great assistance in obtaining employment from a poodle dog, that had been trained to run, with paws purposely soiled, across the feet of persons coming towards his master's bench and brushes. The dog was, perhaps, the greatest curiosity in the locality, for he never attempted to renew his trespass on the boots or shoes of those who had spent two sous in having them polished by his proprietor. I have frequently seen him actively engaged; but he confined his attentions to the male sex; and I can add, as a circumstance very creditable to those on whom his avocation was exercised, that I never saw him kicked or struck. His daily duties were of a very extraordinary nature; but far more extraordinary must have been the training by which he was qualified for their performance.

On the Esplanade des Invalides I witnessed a most extraordinary exhibition. A very aged man appeared, drawing a small four-wheeled truck. He stopped and rang a handbell for some minutes. When a number of spectators had collected, he opened a slide on the top of the truck, and in the most endearing terms invited his pets, his darlings, to come forth. The darlings came at his call, and consisted of about three dozen rats, mostly of a white or cream color, with red eyes. They crept up his legs, crowded on his head and shoulders, nestled inside his vest, and eagerly fed on some fragments of cheese and some Indian corn, which he produced from a dirty old bag. He then took a tin box, in the lid of which there was a hole, sufficient to admit one rat at a time; and having given the word of command, the "darlings" proceeded to enter. It seemed too small to contain the entire number; but he insisted on their entrance, scolded them, and swore vehemently at their tardiness. At length all had disappeared, and I then perceived that the bottom of the box was fastened to the upper part by hooks, which the old man drew back, and raising the box he displayed a compact mass of rats, packed almost in a square. He gave the word and they separated, and having got some water, re-entered the truck, and the old fellow sent round the hat to collect a few coppers from the spectators. I could not refuse a trifle for an exhibition which I considered very curious, but very disgusting. I looked with loathing upon the intimacy between the nasty vermin and their pauper master; and I should have seen, with great satisfaction, the entire school consigned to the attentions of half-a-dozen terriers.

FOOTNOTE:

[22] The paper, when coiled upon the receiving roller, is very electrical, until it becomes perfectly cool. If the hand is held within five or six inches of it, sparks are elicited, and a lucifer match may be ignited without bringing it nearer to the "material."