The Project Gutenberg eBook ofLyra FrivolaThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Lyra FrivolaAuthor: A. D. GodleyRelease date: March 2, 2006 [eBook #17898]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Al Haines*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LYRA FRIVOLA ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Lyra FrivolaAuthor: A. D. GodleyRelease date: March 2, 2006 [eBook #17898]Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Al Haines
Title: Lyra Frivola
Author: A. D. Godley
Author: A. D. Godley
Release date: March 2, 2006 [eBook #17898]
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Al Haines
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LYRA FRIVOLA ***
Produced by Al Haines
METHUEN & CO.
1900
Second Edition
Most of the pieces in this book have appeared in theSt James's Gazette, theOxford Magazine, or theNational Observer. I have to thank the Proprietors of these papers for permission to republish.
AFTER HORACETHE JOURNALIST ABROADVERNAL VERSESPENSÉES DE NOELAD LECTIONEM SUAMRUBÁIYYÁT OF MODERATIONSLINES TO AN OLD FRIENDTHE PARADISE OF LECTURERSA DIALOGUE ON ETHICSPEDAGOGYSONG FOR THE NAVY LEAGUEA DREAMTHE SCHOOL of AGRICULTURETHE LAST STRAWTHE 1713 AGAINST NEWNHAMQUADRIVIAD, ll. 1-51MUSICAL DEGREESQUIETA MOVEREGRAECULUS ESURIENSTHE ROAD TO RENOWNL'AFFAIRE (CHAPTER ONE)UNSELFISH DEVOTIONTHE ARREST"THE PLAN OF CAMPAIGN"THE PATRIOT'S "POME"MR MORLEY'S APOLOGYHONESTY REWARDEDTHE END OF ITA NEW DEPARTUREMULLIGAN ON THE AUSTRIAN PARLIAMENTBROKEN VOWSTHE TRUE REMEDYUNITED IRELANDJUSTICE FOR PRIVATE MULVANEY
What asks the Bard? He prays for noughtBut what the truly virtuous crave:That is, the things he plainly oughtTo have.
'Tis not for wealth, with all the shocksThat vex distracted millionaires,Plagued by their fluctuating stocksAnd shares:
While plutocrats their millions newExpend upon each costly whim,A great deal less than theirs will doFor him;
The simple incomes of the poorHis meek poetic soul content:Say, L30,000 at fourPer cent.!
His taste in residence is plain:No palaces his heart rejoice:A cottage in a lane (Park LaneFor choice)—
Here be his days in quiet spent:Here let him meditate the Muse:Baronial Halls were only meantFor Jews,
And lands that stretch with endless spanFrom east to west, from south to north,Are often much more trouble thanThey're worth!
Let epicures who eat too muchBecome uncomfortably stout:Let gourmets feel th' approaching touchOf gout,—
The Bard subsists on simpler food:A dinner, not severely plain,A pint or so of really goodChampagne—
Grant him but these, no care he'll takeThough Laureates bask in Fortune's smile,Though Kiplings and Corellis makeTheir pile:
Contented with a scantier doleHis humble Muse serenely jogs,Remote from scenes where authors rollTheir logs:
Far from the madding crowd she lurks,And really cares no single jotWhether the public read her worksOr not!
When Parson, Doctor, Don,—In short, when all the nationGoes gaily off uponIts annual vacation,Their cares professionalNo more avail to bind them:They go at Pleasure's callAnd leave their trades behind them.
Like them, departs afarFrom England's fogs and vapoursThe literary star,The writer for the papers:But not, like them, at homeLeaves he his calling's fetters:Nought can release him fromThe tyranny of Letters!
When classic scenes amidFor rest and peace he hankers,Amari aliquidHis joys aesthetic cankers:Whate'er he sees, he knowsHe has to write upon itA paragraph of proseOr possibly a sonnet:
By mountain lakelets blue,'Mid wild romantic heath, he'sA martyr always toScribendi cacoethes:The Naiad-haunted streamOr lonely mountain-top heConsiders as a themeAvailable for "copy."
If on the sunlit mainWith ardour rapt he gazes,He's torturing his brainFor neat pictorial phrases:When in a ship or boatHe navigates the briny(And here 'tis his to quoteExamples set by Heine)
While fellow-passengersLie stretched in mere prostration,He duly registersEach horrible sensation—He notes his qualms with care,And bids the public know 'emIn "Thoughts on Mal de Mer,"Or "Nausea: a Poem."
* * * *
Such is his earthly lot:Nor is it wholly certainIf Death for him or notRings down the final curtain,Or if, when hence he's fledTo worlds or worse or better,He'll send per Mr St—dA crisp descriptive letter!
When early worms began to crawl, and early birds to sing,And frost, and mud, and snow, and rain proclaimed the jocund spring,Its all-pervading influence the Poet's soul obeyed—He made a song to greet the Spring, and this is what he made:—
They sadly lacked enlightenment, our ancestors of old,Who used to suffer simply from an ordinary cold:But we, of Science' mysteries less ignorant by far,Have nothing less distinguished than a Bronchial Catarrh!
O when your head's a lump of lead and nought can do but sneeze:Whene'er in turn you freeze and burn, and then you burn and freeze:—It does not mean you're going to die, although you think you are—These are the primal symptoms of a Bronchial Catarrh.
And when you've taken drugs and pills, and stayed indoors a week,Yet still your chest with pain opprest will hardly let you speak:Amid your darksome miseries be this your guiding star—'Tis simply the remainder of a Bronchial Catarrh.
In various ways do various men invite misfortune's rods,—Some row within their College boat,—some Logic read for Mods.:But oh! of all the human ills our happiness that marI do not know the equal of a Bronchial Catarrh!
When the landlord wants the rentOf your humble tenement,When the Christmas bills beginDaily, hourly pouring in,When you pay your gas and poor rate,Tip the rector, fee the curate,Let this thought your spirit cheer—Christmas comes but once a year.
When the man who brings the coalClaims his customary dole:When the postman rings and knocksFor his usual Christmas-box:When you're dunned by half the townWith demands for half-a-crown,—Think, although they cost you dear,Christmas comes but once a year.
When you roam from shop to shop,Seeking, till you nearly drop,Christmas cards and small donationsFor the maw of your relations,Questing vainly 'mid the heapFor a thing that's nice, and cheap:Think, and check the rising tear,Christmas comes but once a year.
Though for three successive daysBusiness quits her usual ways,Though the milkman's voice be dumb,Though the paper doesn't come;Though you want tobacco, butFind that all the shops are shut:Bravely still your sorrows bear—Christmas comes but once a year.
When mince-pies you can't digestJoin with waits to break your rest:When, oh when, to crown your woe,Persons who might better knowThink it needful that you shouldDon a gay convivial mood;—Bear with fortitude and patienceThese afflicting dispensations:Man was born to suffer here:Christmas comes but once a year.
When Autumn's winds denude the grove,I seek my Lecture, where it lurks'Mid the unpublished portion ofMy works,
And ponder, while its sheets I scan,How many years away have sliptSince first I penned that ancient man-uscript.
I know thee well—nor can mistakeThe old accustomed pencil strokeDenoting where I mostly makeA joke,—
Or where coy brackets signifyThose echoes faint of classic witWhich, if a lady's present, IOmit.
Though Truth enlarge her widening range,And Knowledge be with time increased,While thou, my Lecture! dost not changeThe least,
But fixed immutable amidstThe advent of a newer lore,Maintainest calmly what thou didstBefore:
Though still malignity avowsThat unsuccessful candidatesTo thee ascribe their frequent ploughsIn Greats—
Once more for intellectual foodThou'lt serve: an added phrase or twoWill make thee really just as goodAs new:
And listening crowds, that throng the spot,Will still as usual complainThat "Here's the old familiar rotAgain!"
Wake! for the Nightingale upon the BoughHas sung of Moderations: ay, and nowPales in the Firmament above the SchoolsThe Constellation of the boding Plough.
I too in distant Ages long agoTo him that ploughed me gave a Quid or so:It was a Fraud: it was not good enough;Ne'er for my Quid had I my Quid pro Quo.
Yet—for the Man who pays his painful PenceSome Laws may frame from dark Experience:Still from the Wells of harsh AdversityMay Wisdom draw the Pail of Common Sense—
Take these few Rules, which—carefully rehearsed—Will land the User safely in a First,Second, or Third, or Gulf: and after allThere's nothing lower than a Plough at worst.
Plain is the Trick of doing Latin Prose,An Esse Videantur at the CloseMakes it to all Intents and PurposesAs good as anything of Cicero's.
Yet let it not your anxious Mind perturbShould Grammar's Law your Diction fail to curb:Be comforted: it is like Tacitus:Tis mostly done by leaving out the Verb.
Mark well the Point: and thus your Answer fitThat you thereto all Reference omit,But argue still about it and aboutOf This, and That, and T'Other—not of It.
Say, why should You upon your proper HookDilate on Things which whoso cares to lookWill find, in Libraries or otherwhere,Already stated in a printed Book?
Keep clear of Facts: the Fool who deals in thoseA Mucker he inevitably goes:The dusty Don who looks your Paper o'erHe knows about it all—or thinks he knows.
A Pipe, a Teapot, and a Pencil blue,A Crib, perchance a Lexicon—and YouBeside him singing in a WildernessOf Suppositions palpably untrue—
'Tis all he needs: he is content with these:Not Facts he wants, but soft HypothesesWhich none need take the Pains to verify:This is the Way that Men obtain Degrees!
'Twixt Right and Wrong the Difference is dim:'Tis settled by the Moderator's Whim:Perchance the Delta on your Paper markedMeans that his Lunch has disagreed with him:
Perchance the Issue lies in Fortune's Lap:For if the Names be shaken in a Cap(As some aver) then Truth and FallacyNo longer signify a single Rap.
Nay! till the Hour for pouring out the CupOf Tea post-prandial calls you home to sup,And from the dark Invigilator's ChairThe mild Muezzin whispers "Time is Up"—
The Moving Finger writes: then, having writ,The Product of your Scholarship and WitDeposit in the proper Pigeonhole—And thank your Stars that there's an End of it!
When we're daily called to arms by continual alarms,And the journalist unceasingly dilatesOn the agitating fact that we're soon to be attackedBy the Germans, or the Russians, or the States:When the papers all are swelling with a patriotic rage,And are hurling a defiance or a threat,Then I cool my martial ardour with the pacifying pageOf theOxford University Gazette.
When I hanker for a statement that is practical and dry(Being sated with sensation in excess,With the vespertinal rumour and the matutinal lieWhich adorn the lucubrations of the Press),Then I turn me to the columns where there's nothing to attract,Or the interest to waken and to whet,And I revel in a banquet of unmitigated factIn theOxford University Gazette.
When the Laureate obedient to an editor's decreePuts his verses in the columns of theTimes;When the endless minor poet in an endless minor keyGives the public his unnecessary rhymes,When you're weary of the poems which they constantly compose,And endeavour their existence to forget,You may seek and find repose in the satisfying proseOf theOxford University Gazette.
In that soporific journal you may stupefy the mindWith the influence narcotic which it drawsFrom the Latest Information about Scholarships CombinedOr the contemplated changes in a clause:Place me somewhere that is far from theStandardand theStar,From the fever and the literary fret,—And the harassed spirit's balm be the academic calmOf theOxford University Gazette!
When you might be a name for the world to acclaim,and when Opulence dawns on the view,Why slave like a Turk at Collegiate workfor a wholly inadequate screw?Why grind at the trade—insufficiently paid—ofinstructing for Mods and for Greats,When fortunes immense are diurnally madeby a lecturing tour in the States?
Do you know that in scores they will pay at the doors—thesemillions in darkness who grope—For a glimpse of Mark Twain or a word from Hall Caineor a reading from Anthony Hope?We are ignorant here of the glorious careerwhich conspicuous talent awaits:Not a master of style but is making his pileby the lectures he gives in the States!
With amazement I hear of the chances theylose—of the simply incredible sumsWhich a Barrie might have (if he did not refuse)for recitingA Window in Thrums:Of the prospects of gain which are offeredin vain as a sop to the Laureate's pride:Of the price which I learn Mr Bradshawmight earn by declaiming his excellent Guide.
Columbia! desist from soliciting those whoyour bribes and petitions contemn:Though plutocrats scorn the rewards youpropose, there are others superior to them:Why burden the proud with superfluouspelf, who wealth in abundance possess,When indigent Worth (I allude to myself)would go for substantially less?
For Europe, I know, to oblivion may doomthe fruits of my talented brain,But they're perfectly sure of creating a boomin the wilds of Kentucky and Maine:They'll appreciatetheremy illustrious workon the way to make Pindar to scan,And Culture will hum in the State of New Yorkwhen I read it my essay on 'An! [1]
I've a scheme, which is this:—I will startfor the West as a Limited Lecturing Co.,And the public invite in the same to investto the tune of a million or so:They will all be recouped for initial expenseby receiving their share of the "gates,"Which I venture to think will be trulyimmense when I lecture on Prose in the States.
Thus Merit will not be permitted to rot—asit does—on Obscurity's shelf:Thus the national hoard shall with profit bestored (with a trifle of course for myself):For lectures are dear in that fortunatesphere, and are paid for at fabulous rates,—All the gold of Klondike isn't anything liketo the sums that are made in the States!
[1. Transcriber's note: In the original book, the two characters preceding the exclamation mark are the Greek "Alpha" and "nu". They appear to be preceded by the Greek rough-breathing diacritical, making the three characters together rhyme with "Maine", two lines earlier.]
Said the Isis to the Cherwell in a tone of indignation,"With a blush of conscious virtue your enormities I see:And I wish that a reversal of the laws of gravitationWould prevent your vicious current from contaminating me!With your hedonists who grovel on a cushion with a novel(Which is sure to sap the morals and the intellect to stunt),And the spectacle nefarious of your idle, gay LothariosWho pursue a mild flirtation in a misdirected punt!"
Said the Cherwell to the Isis, "You may talk about my vices—But of all the sights of sorrow since the universe began,Just commend me to the patience that can bear the degradationsWhich inflicted are by Rowing on the dignity of man:The unspeakable reproaches which are lavished by your coaches—On my sense of what is proper they continually jar"—("It is simplyMos Majorum—'twas their fathers' way before 'em—'Tis a kind of ancient Cussed 'em"—said the Isis to the Cher.)
"Are we men and are we Britons? shall we ne'er obtain a quittance"—Said the Cherwell to the Isis—"from the tyrants of the oar?O it's Youth in a Canader with the willow boughs to shade herAnd a chaperone discreetly in attendance (on the shore),O it's cultivated leisure that is life's supremest treasure,Far from athletes merely brutal, and from Philistines afar:I've a natural aversion to gratuitous exertion,And I'm prone to mild flirtation," said the unrepentant Cher.
But in accents of the sternest, "Life is Real: Life is Earnest,"(Said the grim rebuking Isis to his tributary stream);"Don't you know the Joy of Living is in honourably Striving,Don't you know the Chase of Pleasure is a vain delusive Dream?When they toil and when they shiver in the tempests on the River,When they're faint and spent and weary, and they haveto pull it through,'Tis in Action stern and zealous that they truly find aTelos, [1]Though a moment's relaxation be afforded them by you!"
Said the Cherwell to the Isis, "When the trees are clad in greenness,When the Eights are fairly over, and it's drawing near Commem.,It is Ver and it is Venus that shall judge the case between us,And I think for all your maxims that you won't compete with them!Then despite their boasted virtue shall your athletes all desert you(Come to me for information if you don't know where they are):For it'sina scholaxomen[2] that's the proper end of WomanAnd of Man—at least in summer," said the easy-going Cher.
[1. Transcriber's note: The word "Telos" was transliterated from the Greek characters Tau, epsilon, lambda, omicron, and sigma.]
[2. Transcriber's note: The two words "ina scholaxomen" were transliterated from Greek as follows: "ina"—iota (possibly accompanied by the rough-breathing diacritical), nu, alpha; "scholaxomen"—sigma, chi, omicron, lambda, alpha (possibly with the soft-breathing diacritical), xi, omega, mu, epsilon, nu.]
Our fathers on the pedagogue held sentiments irrational,Curricula for training him 'twas never theirs to know,And when he taught the way he ought, by genius educational,They gave their thanks to Providence, who made him do it so.But our developed intellect and keener perspicacityHas all reduced to system now anda priorirule:We've altogether ceased to trust in natural capacity,And pin alone our faith upon a Pedagogy School.
Don't talk to me of knowledge gained by base experience practical(A thing that's wholly obsolete and laid upon the shelf):Don't waste your time in aiming at exactitude syntactical,Or hold that he who teaches Greek should know that Greek himself:For if you wish to face the truth, and fact no more to see awry—Who strives to wake the dormant mind of unreceptive impsNeed only read the works of Rein on Education's TheoryAnd study the immortal tomes of Ziegler and De Guimps!
Whene'er of old a boy was dull or quite adverse to knowledge, heWas set an imposition or corrected with a switch:Far different our practice is, who reign by MethodologyAnd guide the dunce by precepts learnt from Landon or from Fitch:'Twas difficult by rule of thumb to check unseemly merriment,To make your class their pastor treat with proper due regard—'Tis easy quite for specialists in Juvenile Temperament,Who know the books on Punishment and also on Reward!
There's no demand for authors now of eruditeopuscula,For Wranglers or for Science men or linguists of repute:No cricketers can gain a post by mere distinction muscular,No Socker Blues can hope to teach the young idea to Shoot:Read Lange his Psychology—Didactics of Comenius—By works like these and only these your prudent mind prepare:For if you've nought but scholarship or independent geniusYou'd better far adopt the Bar and make your fortune there!
O all ye ancient dominies whose names are writ in history—Shade of the late Orbilius, and ghost of Dr Parr,Howe'er you got your fame of old—the reason's wrapt in mystery—Where'er you be, I hope you see how obsolete you are!'Tis Handbooks make the Pedagogue: O great, eternal verity!O fact of which our ancestors could ne'er obtain a glimpse!But we'll proclaim the truth abroad and noise it to posterity,Our watchword a curriculum—our shibboleth DE GUIMPS!
(Dedicated without permission to LORD CHARLES BERESFORD.)
O where be all those mariners boldwho used to control the sea,The Admiral great and the bo'sun's mateand the skipper who skipped so free?O what has become of our midshipmites,the terror of every foe,And the captain brave who dares the wavewhen the stormy winds do blow?
_For the tar may roam, but the tar comes hometo wherever his home may be,With a Yo, heave ho, and ao e to, [1] and aMaster of Arts Degree_!
They have gone to imbibe the classical loreof Learning's ancient seat(They are sadly at sea in the classics asyet, thoughclassisis Latin for fleet),It is there you will find those naval men,by the Isis and eke the Cher.,For Scholarship is the only ship that is fitfor a bold Jack Tar.
He has bartered his rum for a coach and acrib, at the First Lord's stern decree,And he learns the use of the rocket andsquib (which are useful as lights at sea):And they train him in part of the nauticalart, as much as a landsman can,For they teach him to paddle the gay canoe,and to row the rash randan.
Should he e'er be inclined his Tutors andDeans to look with contempt upon(Observing the maxims of Raleigh andDrake, who never thought much of a Don),Let him think there are things in the nauticalline that even a Don can do,For only too well are examiners versed inthe way to plough the Blue!
Though a Captainper seis an excellentthing for repelling his country's foes,He is better by far, as an engine of war, witha knowledge of Logic and Prose:And a bold A.B. is the nation's pride, inhis rude uncultured way,But prouder still will the nation be whenhe's also a bold B.A.!
For the Horse Marine will be Tutor and Dean,in the glorious days to be,With his Yo, heave ho, and hiso e to, [1] and aMaster of Arts degree!
[1. Transcriber's note: the character group "o e to" was transliterated from the Greek characters omicron (with the rough-breathing diacritical), eta (with the rough-breathing diacritical), tau, and omicron (with the soft-breathing diacritical).]
In sleep the errant phantasy,No more by sense imprisoned,Creates what possibly might beBut actually isn't:And this my tale is past belief,Of truth and reason emptied,'Tis fiction manifest—in briefI was asleep, and dreamt it.
I met a man by Isis' stream,Whose phrase discreet and prudent,Whose penchant for a learned themeProclaimed the Serious Student:I never knew a scholar whoCould more at ease converse onThe latestClassical ReviewThan that superior person.
He spoke of books—all manly sportsHe deemed but meet for scoffing:He did not know the Racquet Courts—He'd never heard of golfing—Professors ne'er were half so wise,Nor Readers more sedate!He was—I learnt with some surprise—An undergraduate.
Another man I met, whose headWas crammed with pastime's annals,And who, to judge from what he said,Must simply live in flannels:A shallow mind his talk proclaimed,And showed of culture no trace:One "book" and one alone he named—His own—'twas on the Boat-race.
"Of course," you cry, "some brainless lad,Some scion of ancient Tories,Bob Acres, sent to OxfordadEmolliendos mores,Meant but to drain the festive glassAnd win the athlete's pewter!"There you are wrong: this person wasThat undergraduate's Tutor.
* * * *
Twas but a dream, I said above,In concrete truth deficient,Belonging to the region ofThe wholly Unconditioned:Yet, when I see how strange the waysOf undergrad. and Don are,Methinks it was, in classic phrase,Notuparless thanonar. [1]
[1. Transcriber's note: the words "upar" and "onar" were transliterated from the Greek as follows: "upar"—upsilon (possibly with the rough-breathing diacritical), pi, alpha, and rho; "onar"—omicron (possibly with the rough-breathing diacritical), nu, alpha, and rho.]
I gazed with wild prophetic eyeInto the future vast and dim:I saw the UniversityIndulge its last and strangest whim:It did away with Mods and Greats,Its other Schools abolished all:And simply made its candidatesRead Science Agricultural.
They learnt to hoe: they learnt to plough:To delve and dig was all their joy:But O in ways we know not nowThose candidates we did employ:No more, accepting of a bribeTo take these persons off our hands,We sent them off, a studious tribe,To distant climes and foreign lands.
We did not then examine inThe subjects which we could not teachTo those who Honours aimed to winWe taught their subjects, all and eachWe made the ProfessoriateTake from its Professorial shelfAuthorities of ancient date,And teach the candidates itself
My scanty page could ne'er containOf works the long and learned listBy which it was their plan to trainThe sucking agriculturist:In brief, the arts of tilling landSufficiently imparted wereBy great Professor Ellis, andBy great Professor Bywater.
One taught th' aspiring candidateIn Hesiod each alternate day:One showed him how the crops rotateFrom Cato De Re Rustica:The bee that in our bonnets lurksHe taught to yield its honied storeBy reading Columella's worksAnd also Virgil (Georgic Four).
Yet not by Theory aloneDid learning train the student mind—Its exercise was carried onIn places properly assigned:From toil by weather undeterredIn winter wild or burning June,The precepts in the morning heardThey practised in the afternoon.
The Colleges, whose grassy plotsAre now resorts of vicious ease,Were then laid out in little lots,With useful beans and early peas:Each merely ornamental sodThey dug with spades and hoed with hoes:The wilderness in every quadWas made to blossom as the rose.
The gardens too, with cereals decked,Where tennis-courts no longer were,Showed Agriculture's due effectUpon the student's character:No more by practices beguiledWhich Virtue with displeasure notes,No longer dissolute and wild,He sowed domesticated oats.
It was indeed a blissful state:For Convocation's high decreeDubbed the successful candidateMagister Agriculturae:And if he failed, his vows denied,The world observed without surpriseThat those who learnt the plough to guideWere objects of its exercise!
Now Spring bedecks with nascent greenThe meadows near and far,And Sabbath calm pervades the scene,And Sabbath punts the Cher.:While I, like trees new drest by June,Must bow to Fashion's law,And wear on Sunday afternoonA variegated Straw.
My Topper! so serenely sleek,So beautifully tall,Wherein I decked me once a weekWhene'er I went to call,—No more shall now th' admiring maid,While handing me my tea,View her reflected charms displayed(Narcissus-like) in thee!
Yet oh! though different forms of hatMay wreathe my manly brow,No Straw shall e'er (be sure of that)Be half so dear as thou.Hang then upon thy native rackAs varying modes compel,Till next year's fashions bring thee back,My Chimneypot, farewell!
[This Fragment will be found to contain, in a concentrated form, all the constituent parts of Greek Tragedy. It has an Anagnorisis, because its subject is the Recognition of Women. It also containsat least onePeripeteia: and the action has been strictly confined, chiefly by the Editor of theMagazine, within one revolution of the sun.]
Sisters, from far upon my senses stealsA sound of crackers and of Catherine wheels,By which I know the Senate in debateDecides our future and the country's fate:And lo! a herald from the city's stirI see arrive—the usual Messenger.
Enter a Messenger
M.O maiden guardians of this sacred shrine—
Ch.Observe the rules: you've had your single line.
M.Say, is the Lady Principal at home?
Ch.Thou speak'st, as one for information come.
M.I ask the question, for I wish to know.
Ch.By shrewd conjecture one might guess 'twas so.
M.Go, tell your Lady I would speak with her.
Ch.About what thing? what quest dost thou prefer?
M.I bear a tale I hardly dare to tell.
Ch.Why vex her ears, when ours will do as well?
M.Hear then the facts which with self-seeing eyesI witnessed, not receiving from another.For when I came within those doors augustWhere sat the Boule, doubting if to grantThe boon of honour which the women ask,Or not: and like some Thracian HellespontTides of opinion flowed in different ways,Until obeying some divine decree(This is a Nominative Absolute)The hollow-bellied circle of a hatReceived their votes (and now, but not till now,Observe my true apodosis begin)—Arithmetic, supreme of sciences,Proclaimed that persons to the number ofOne thousand seven hundred and thirteenVoted Non-Placet (or, It does not please),While thrice two hundred, also sixty-two,Voted for Placet on the other side;Who, being worsted, come as suppliantsWith boughs and fillets and the rest complete,Winging the booted oarage of their feetWithin your gates: the obscurantist routPursue them here with threats, and swear they'll drag them out!Such is my tale: its truth should you deny,I simply answer, that you tell a lie.
Woe! Woe! Woe! Woe! What shall we do and where shall we go?Dublin or Durham, Heidelberg, Bonn,All to escape the recalcitrant don?In what peaceful shade reclinedShall the cultured female mindE'er remunerated beBy a Bachelor's Degree?Pheu, pheu! [1] Whence, O whence (here theantistrophe ought to commence),Whence shall we the privilege seekDue to our knowledge of Latin and Greek?Shall we tear our waving locks?Shall we rend our Sunday frocks?No, 'tis plain that nothing canMelt the so-called heart of man.While with loud triumphant pealingsRing his cries of horrid joy,Let us vent our outraged feelingsIn a wildotototoi— [2]Justifiable impatience, when the shafts of fate annoy,Makes one utter exclamations such asototototoi! [2]
EnterPROFESSOR PLACET
I ask you, ye intolerable creatures,Why raise this wholly execrable din,O objects of dislike to the discreet?Six hundred persons, also sixty-two(Almost the very number of the Beast)Have voted for you, and defend your gates.Moreover, mark my subtle argument:—When gates are locked no person can get inWithout unlocking them: your gates are locked,And I have got the key: so that, unlessI ope the gates, the foe cannot get in.This statement is Pure Reason: or, if thisIs not Pure Reason,Idon't know what is.
Holy Reason! sacredNous! [3]Thou that hast for ever partedFrom the Cambridge Senate House,Make, O make us valiant hearted!Wisdom, still residing here,Calm our mind and chase our fearWhile with wild discordant clamourOn our College gate they hammer!
[Confused Noise without.]
Hemich. a.[4] Horrid things! I really wonderhow they ever dared to come,When they know to base Non-Placetsthat we're always Not At Home.
Hemich. B.[4] 'Tis a national dishonour:'tis the century's disgrace.
Hemich. a.If the College rules allowed it,Ishould like to scratch their face.
Hemich. B.Never mind! a time is comingwhen despite of all their DonsWe will sack the hall of Jesus,and enjoy the wealth of John's!
Hemich. a.Vengeance! let us face the foe-man,boldly bear the battle's brunt,With our Placets to assist usand our chaperons in front!
[Alarums; Excursions—special trains for voters.]
(A violation of the rule"Ne pueros coram populo Medea trucidet"is about to commence, when—)
EnterAPOLLO
(With apologies to Dr V-rr-ll for his profligate character.)
When all too deftly poets tie the knotAnd can't untwist their complicated plot,'Tis then that comes by Jove's supreme decreesThe usefultheos apo mechanes. [5]Rash youths! forbear ungallantly to vexYour fellow students of the softer sex!Ladies! proud leaders of our culture's van,Crush not too cruelly the reptile Man!Or by experience you, as now, will learnTh' eternal maxim's truth, that e'en a worm will turn.
[1. Transcriber's note: The words "Pheu" and "pheu" were transliterated from the Greek as follows: "Pheu"—Phi, epsilon, upsilon; "pheu"—phi, epsilon, upsilon.]
[2. Transcriber's note: The words "otototoi" and "ototototoi" were transliterated from the Greek as follows: the "ot" pairs—omicron (with the rough-breathing diacritical), tau; the trailing "i"—iota.]
[3. Transcriber's note: The word "Nous" was transliterated from the Greek as follows: Nu, omicron, upsilon, sigma.]
[4. Transcriber's note: The "a" and "B" following each "Hemich" were transliterated from the Greek "alpha" and "Beta", respectively.]
[5. Transcriber's note: The phrase "theos apo mechanes" was transliterated from the Greek as follows: "theos"—theta, epsilon, omicron, sigma; "apo"—alpha, pi, omicron; "mechanes"—mu, eta, chi, alpha, nu, eta, sigma.]
QUADRIVIAD, ll. 1-51
Arma virosque cano: procul o, procul este profani: nescio mentiri: si quis mendacia quaerit in vespertinis quaerat mendacia chartis. me neque multo iterum Pharsalia sanguine tincta nec tam Larissa nuper fugitiva relicta Graecia percussit, quam Curia Municipalis Principis augusta dextra Cambrensis aperta, atque novae longis imbutae litibus aedes: omnia quae vobis canerem si tempus haberem aut spatium: sed non habeo, varias ob causas. nunc civilia bella viaeque cruore rubentes Musae sufficient et Quadrivialis Enyo. Nox erat et caeio fulgebat luna sereno desuper: in terris fulgebat Serica lampas plurima, et ornatis pendent vexilla fenestris. spectando gaudent cives: academica pubes palatur passim plateis aut ordine facto proruit ignavum cives pecus: omnia late laetitia magni praesentia Principis implet. Metropolitanae custos, Robertule, pacis, tu quoque laetus ades, nec dedignaris amice inter ridentem comis ridere popellum. ecce tamen Furiae Martini desuper arce dant belli signum: ruit undique vulgus ad arma: procuratores obsistunt subgraduatis, civibus iratis obsistunt subgraduati et cives illis: pacis custodibus, omnes. turba venit diris ultrix accincta bacillis: Metropolitani vecti per strata caballis proturbant cunctos, reliquos in carcere claudunt. Consiliarius en! Urbanus in occiput ipse percutitur nec scit quisnam cere comminuat brum: namque negant omnes, et adhuc sub judice lis est. quid Medicina viris jurisve peritia prodest, jurisconsultos dubio si jure coercent vincula, nec proprios arcet Medicina bacillos? heu pietas, heu prisca fides! neglectus alumnus Tutorem in vacua tristis desiderat aula: interea Tutor sub judice municipali litigat, et jurat nil se fecisse nefandum, obtestans divos: nec creditur obtestanti. quid referam versos equites iterumque reversos subgraduatorum pellentes agmina ferro, inque pavimentis equitantes undique turmas? proh pudor! o mores, o tempora! forsitan olim exercens operam curvo Moderator aratro inveniet mixtis capitum fragmenta galeris relliquias pugnae, et mentem mortalia tangent. me sacer Aegidius Musarum fana colentem aegide defendit, perque ignea tela, per hostes incolumem vexitque tuens rursusque revexit.
Too oft there grows a painful thorn the floweret's stalk upon:Behind each cupboard's gilded doors there lurks a Skeleton:The crumpled roseleaf mocks repose, beneath the bed of down:In proof of which attend the tale of Bach Beethoven Brown.
Beethoven Brown could play and sing before he learnt to crawl:Piano, bones, or ophicleide—he played upon them all!Some talk of Paderewski, or of Dr Joachim—These artists meritorious are, but can't compare with him.
No faults or errors technical his Symphonies deface:He calculates in counterpoint, he thinks in thoroughbass:Composers of celebrity—musicians of renown—Confess that they're inferior far to Bach Beethoven Brown.
As conquerors, their triumphs won, new fields before them see,So Mr Brown resolved to have a Musical Degree:Some say that it the title was and others say the gownThat captive took the soaring soul of Bach Beethoven Brown.
But ah! our Statues grovelling command their candidatesTo satisfy examiners in Smalls, and Mods., and Greats,To learn those verbs irregular which men of taste abhor,Before you can a Doctor be or e'en a Bachelor!
O mores! and O tempora! can pedantry compelMusicians who write choruses to construe them as well?Is this (I ask) the way to deal with genius great and high?Why fetter it with Latin Prose? and Echo answers "Why?"
Beethoven Brown is famous still, though ignorant of Greek,He writes cantatas every month and anthems once a week:And still in every capital and each provincial townPiano organs play the tunes of Bach Beethoven Brown;
Earls, Viscounts, Dukes, and R-y-lties his music throng to hear:Already he's a Baronet, and soon he'll be a Peer:And—thrice a year this awful news a nation's heart appals,That great Sir Bach Beethoven Brown is ploughed again in Smalls!
"Any leap in the dark is better than standing still."—New Proverb.
Talk not to us of the joys of the Present,Say not what is is undoubtedly best:Never be ours to be merely quiescent—Anything, everything rather than rest!
Placid prosperity bores us and vexes:What if philosophers Latin and GreekSay that well-being's a Status andExis? [1]Nothing should please you for more than a week.
Tinkering, doctoring, shifting, deranging,Urged by a constant satiety on,Ever the new for the newer exchanging,Hazarding ever the gains we have won—
Only perpetual flux can delight us,Blown like a billow by winds of the sea:Still let us bow to the shrine of St. Vitus—Vite Sanctissime, ora pro me!
Pray, that when leaps in the darkness uncaringEnd in a fall (as they probably will),Mine be the credit for valiantly daring,Others be charged with defraying the bill!
[1. Transcriber's note: The word "Exis" was transliterated from the Greek as follows: Epsilon (with the rough-breathing diacritical), xi, iota, sigma.]
There came a Grecian Admiral to pale Britannia's shore—In Eighteen Ninety-eight he came, and anchored off the Nore;An ultimatum he despatched (I give the text complete),Addressing it "To Kurio, the Premier, Downing-street." [1]
"Whereas the sons of Liberty with indignation viewThe number of dependencies which governed are by you—With Hellas (Freedom's chosen land) we purpose to uniteSome part of those dependencies—let's say the Isle of Wight."
"The Isle of Wight!" said Parliament, and shuddered at the word,"Her Majesty's at Osborne, too—of course, the thing's absurd!"And this response Lord Salisbury eventually gave:"Such transfers must attended be by difficulties grave."
"My orders," said the Admiral, "are positive and flat:I am not in the least deterred by obstacles like that:We're really only acting in the interests of peace:Expansion is a nation's law—we've aims sublime in Greece."
With that Britannia blazed amain with patriotic flames!They built a hundred ironclads and launched them in the Thames:They girded on their fathers' swords, both commoners and peers;They mobilized an Army Corps, and drilled the Volunteers!
The Labour Party armed itself, invasion's path to bar,"Truth" and the "Daily Chronicle" proclaimed a Righteous War;Sir William Harcourt stumped the towns that sacred fire to fan,And Mr Gladstone every day sent telegrams from Cannes.
But ere they marched to meet the foe and drench the land with gore,Outspake that Grecian Admiral—from somewhere near the Nore—And "Ere," he said, "hostilities are ordered to commence,Just hear a last appeal unto your educated sense:—
"You can't intend," he said, said he, "to turn your Maxims onThe race that fought at Salamis, that bled at Marathon!You can't propose with brutal force to drive from off your seasThe men of Homer's gifted line—the sons of Socrates!"
Britannia heard the patriot's plea, she checked her murderous plans:Homer's a name to conjure with, 'mong British artisans:Her Army too, profoundly moved by arguments like these,Said 'e'd be blowed afore 'e'd fight the sons of Socrates.
They cast away their fathers' swords, those commoners and peers,—Demobilized their Army Corps—dismissed their Volunteers:Soft Sentiment o'erthrew the bars that nations disunite,And Greece, in Freedom's sacred name, annexed the Isle of Wight.
[1. Transcriber's note: The phrase "To Kurio" was transliterated from the Greek as follows: "To"—Tau, omega; "Kurio"—Kappa, upsilon, rho, iota, omega.]
If it still is your luck to be left in the ruck,and of fame you're an impotent seeker,If you fruitlessly aim at a Senate's acclaimwhen you can't catch the eye of the Speaker,If whenever you rise you observe with surprisethat the House is perceptibly thinner,And your eloquent pleas are a sign to M.P.'sthat it's nearly the time for their dinner:
Should you sigh for the heights where the eminent lights,in the region of letters who shine, are;Should your novels and tales have indifferent salesand your verses be hopelessly minor,Should the public refuse your attempts to perusewhen you try to instruct or to shock it,While it adds to the spoils of its Barries and Doyles,and increases the hoards of a Crockett:
If you're baffled, in short, by the fame that you court,and your name's overlooked by the papers,—There's a road to success without toil or distress,or nocturnal consumption of tapers:By adopting this plan you're a prominent man,and no longer a painful aspirant:You must come on the scene as a bold Philhellene,and a foe to the Turk and the Tyrant!
You'll orate to the crowd on the heritage proudwhich by Greece is bequeathed to the nations(You can gain in a week an acquaintance with Greekby a liberal use of translations),And the names that you quote with the aid of your "Grote"and a noble assumption of choler,Will attest that you feel that excusable zealwhich belongs to an eminent scholar.
You will prate before mobs of Lord Salisbury's jobsand the villainous schemes of the Kaiser,Which will make them believe you've a plan up your sleeveif they'd only take you for adviser;You may cheerfully speak of assisting the Greek'gainst the foes that his country environ:'Tis improbable quite you'll be wanted to fight,and the phrase will remind them of Byron.
If you can't get a place in Society's race,and you have to confess that you're beaten,Yet I hope I have shown you may make yourself knownby espousing the cause of the Cretan:You will sell all your works by denouncing the Turks,and the public will hasten to read 'em,When in reverent tones you are mentioned as "Jones,the Defender and Champion of Freedom!"
It was a little Bordereau that lay upon the ground:The Franco-Gallic Government that document it found,And straightway drew the inference, though how I do not know,Some Jew had sold to Germany this dreadful Bordereau.
'Tis all (they said) a Hebrew trick—-a treasonable plan—And, now we come to think of it, why Dreyfus is the man!At any rate (they argued thus), it is for him to showThat he is not the criminal who sold the Bordereau.
Some hinted at another man, whose autograph it bore—But this was Dreyfus' artifice, and proved his guilt the more:No motive for the horrid deed confessedly he had:And crimes which are gratuitous are nearly twice as bad.
They caught that Jew (did Government) and charged him with the sale;They proved his guilt—or said they did—and shut him up in gaol;And then, their case to justify and show their verdict true,They took and baited every one who called himself a Jew.
These incidents an uproar caused like Donnybrook its Fair:Wherever Frenchmen met to talk 'twas Pandemonium there:And anywhere except in France you'd argue from eventsThat Ministers had rather lost the public confidence.
Then spake the German Government (and here I must deploreThe fact that they had not presumed to mention it before):"Although," they said respectfully, "we would not interfereWith any Angelegenheit outside our proper sphere—
Why make this quite-essentially-unnecessary fuss?This compromising document was never sold to us:Potztausend!" said the Chancellor, "upon my honour, no!We have not got and do not want your precious Bordereau!"
This rather struck the Ministers, in Paris where they sat:They took and read the Bordereau: they had not yet done that.'Twas found to mention obvious facts which any one might know—No horrid revelations lurked within the Bordereau!
And did they set poor Dreyfus free, the due amends to make,Regain the public confidence by owning their mistake,And cease for popularity by sordid means to bid?These are the things they might have done; but this is what they did:—
They said, those Gallic Ministers, "Undoubtedly it's trueThe document has not been sold, and is not worth asou;But as the man's in prison now, why, there he's got to stay—Que voulez-vous?" they simply said, "it is aChose Jugée!"
This artless little narrative is specially designedTo illustrate the workings of the Gallic statesman's mind;And till they change those processes and mould their ways anew,It is not yet in Paris that I want to be a Jew.