66 My doctor! You ask a man who has lived eighty-four years, who is his doctor! The nature that gave him a good stout frame; the spirit that told him what it could, and what it could not bear these, and a hearty contempt for physic, and all that live by it, have guided me so far, and you may call them my doctors if you wish." Rather pleased to have recalled the old man to his habitual energy, Dan affected to contest his opinions, by way of inducing him to support them; but he quickly saw his error, for Curtis, as though wearied by even this momentary effort seemed more downcast and depressed than before. MacNaghten, therefore, contented himself with some common-place remarks about the country around, and the road they were walking, when Curtis came to a sudden halt, and said— "You wouldn't take the offer, I'll be sworn. You'd say at once, Show me what rights I'm surrendering? let me know the terms of the agreement.' But what signifies all that at my age?-the last of the stock, besides! If I lay by what will pay the undertaker, it's all the world has a right to demand at my hands." "Here's the Friar'_this is our iun," said NacNaghten; "shall I be the caterer eh? What say you to some fried fish and a glass of Madeira, to begin with?" "I'll have a breakfast, sir, that suits my condition," said Curtis, haughtily. "Send the landlord here for my orders." "Here's our man, then," said MacNaghten, humouring the whim, as he pushed the inn-keeper towards him. "What's your name, my good fellow?" asked Curtis, with a supercilious look at the short, but well-conditioned figure before him. 66 Billy Mathews, sir," said the other, with difficulty restraining a smile at the dilapidated look of his interrogator. "Well, Mathews, keep the Billy for your equals, my good friend. Mathews, I say, let us have the best your house affords, served in your best room, and in your best manner. If I ate prison fare for nine weeks, sir, it is no reason that I am not accustomed to something different. My name is Joseph Curtis, of Meaghvalley House. I sat in parliament for eight-and-twenty years, for the borough of Killternon; and I was tried for a murder at the last commission. There, sir! it's not every day you have a guest who can say as much. As the landlord was moving away to give his orders, Curtis called out once more "Stay, sir; hear me out. There are spies of the Castle wherever I go. Who have you here just now? Who's in this house?" "There's but one gentleman here at present, sir. I've known him these twenty years; and I'll vouch for it, he's neither a Government spy, nor an informer." "And who will be satisfied with your guarantee, sir?" cried Curtis, insolently. "It's not a fellow in your position that can assure the scruples of a man in mine! Who is he? what's his name?" "He's a respectable man, sir, well known in Dublin, and the son of one that held a good position once." "His name-his name?" cried Curtis, imperiously. "It's no matter about his name," replied the host, sulkily. "He has come to eat his breakfast here, as he does once or twice a-week, and that's all that I have to say to him." "But I'll have his name-I'll insist upon it," shouted out Curtis, in a voice of high excitement; "persecuted and hunted down as I am, I'll defend myself. Your Castle blood-hounds shall see that Joe Curtis will not run from them. This gentleman here is the son of MacNaghten of Greenan. What signifies it to you if he be ruined! What affair is it of yours, I ask, if he hasn't sixpence in the world?-I'll pay for what he takes here. I'm responsible for everything. I have two thousand a-year, secured on my life"-he stopped and seemed to reflect for a moment, then added-" that is, I may have it if I please.” MacNaghten made a signal for the inn-keeper to serve the breakfast, and not notice any of the extravagances of his strange companion. Mathews was about to obey, when Curtis, recur- "Leave the room-close the door," - Go down to your grave, Joe Curtis, ruined, ragged, halffamished, mayhap. Let men call you a fool, and worse! but the time will come, and the people will say There was once a man in Ireland that never truckled to the Castle, nor fawned on the viceroy; and that when he stood in the dock, with his life on the venture, I told them that he despised their vengeance, though he knew that they were covering it with all the solemnity of a law court; and that man his contemporaries ay, even his friends were pleased to call mad!" "Come, come, Curtis, you know well this is not my impression of you; you only say so jestingly." "It's a sorry theme to crack jokes paused, and seemed to reflect deeply upon," said the other, sadly. He for some minutes, and then, in a voice of peculiar meaning, and with a look of intense cunning in his small grey eyes, said "We heard the name he mentioned-Raper, Fagan's man of bu siness. "Would you ask Mr. Raper to join "He has just finished his own, sirsome bread and watercresses, with a cup of milk, are all that he takes." he "Poor fellow!" said Dan, “I see him yonder in the summer-house; appears to be in hard study, for he has not raised his head since we entered the room. I'll go and ask him how he is." MacNaghten had not only time to approach the little table where Raper was seated unobserved, but even to look over the object of his study, before his presence was recognised. "German, Mr. Raper; reading German," cried MacNaghten, "I know the characters at least." "Yes, sir, it is German; an odd volume of Richter that I picked up a few days ago. A difficult author at in construction; here, for instance, is first, somewhat involved and intricate a passage My dear friend, it is all a Greek chorus to me, or anything else you can fancy, equally unintelligible." village cobbler, who becomes by an ac "It is a story of an humble man, a cident of fortune suddenly rich. Now, the author, instead of describing the incidents of life and the vicissitudes that encounter him, leaves us only to guess, or rather to supply them for ourselves, by simply dwelling upon all theGedänk Krieze,' or mental conflicts, that are the consequences of his altered position. The notion is inge nious, and if not overlayed with a certain dreamy mysticism, would be very interesting." "I," said Dan, "would far rather hear of his acts than his reflections. What he did would amuse me more to know than to learn why." "But how easy to imagine the one," exclaimed Raper. "Wealth has its habits all stereotyped; from Dives to our own days the catalogue has been ever the same, purple and fine linen.' And if some have added to the mere sensual pleasures the higher enjoyments derivable from objects of art and the cultivation of letters, has it not been because their own natures were more elevated, and required such refinements as daily necessaries? The humble man suddenly enriched, lives no longer in the sphere of his former associates, but ascends into one of whose habits he knows nothing; and Jean Paul condemns him for this, and reminds him, that when a river is swollen by autumn rains, it does not desert its ancient channel, but enlarges the sphere of its utility, by spreading fertilisation on each side of it, seeming to think—I may, by the accidents of life, grow small and humble again; it is as well that I should not quit the tiny course I have followed in my humble fortunes." "And do you agree with him?" asked Dan, more amazed by the enthusiasm of his companion, than by the theme that suggested it. "I do so in everything; I speak, of course, as one who knows nothing of those ambitions by which wealthy men are encompassed; I am not in the position of one who has seen and felt these fascinations, and who emerges from his poverty, to reassume a former station. Take the case of Mr. Curtis, for instance." "What! old Curtis-Joe Curtis ? asked Dan eagerly:' "Yes, Curtis, formerly of Meaghvalley. Well, if his claim be as good as they suppose, he'll not only inherit the great Wicklow estates, but the western property so long in Chancery.' MacNaghten saw that Raper was pouring forth this knowledge without being conscious that he was making an important revelation, and gave a dry commonplace assent. "Who can say what may not be his income?", exclaimed Raper, thoughtfully; "twenty thousand a-year, at the least." "And his prospects are good, you say-his chances of success?" "The marriage certificate of Noah Curtis and Eleanor Carew has been discovered, sir, and if the will of Fownes Carew be authentic, the case, I believe, is clear." "What Carews were these?" "The ancestors of Walter Carew, sir, whose estates now descend to the heirs of the female branch." "And Curtis will inherit these?" The tone in which Dan uttered these words so startled Raper, that he suddenly recovered his self-possession, and remembered how unguardedly he had related this mysterious piece of intelligence. "When was this discovery made?who chanced to trace this relationship between Curtis and the Carew family?" cried MacNaghten, in intense anxiety. A signal from Raper suddenly suggested caution and reserve; but Dan, too much excited to attend to it, went on "Sir, never believe it! It is some infernal scheme concocted between Fagan and the lawyers. They have put forward this wretched old man, half witted as he is A hand grasped Dan's arm as he said this-he turned, and there stood Curtis beside him! "I've heard you both!" said the old man, drily. "To you, sir," said he to Raper, "I owe my thanks for a piece of welcome news; to you, MacNaghten, I feel grateful for all your candour!" "Come, come, Curtis be angry with me, if you will; but, for heaven's sake, do not lend yourself to these base plots and schemes. If there be a conspiracy to rob poor Walter's widow and her child, let not one of his oldest, best friends have any share in it." "I'll maintain my rights, sir-be assured of that!" said Curtis, with a degree of resolution strangely different from his former manner. "Mr. MacNaghten's impression of my competence to conduct my own affairs may possibly be disparaging, but, happily, there is another tribunal which shall decide on that question. Raper, I'm going into town-will you accompany me? Mr. MacNaghten, I wish you a good morning." And with these words, he took Raper's arm, and retired, leaving Dan still standing, mute, overwhelmed, and thunderstruck. HEROES, ANCIENT AND MODERN-NO. IV. CAIUS MARCIUS CORIOLANUS, AND CHARLES DUKE OF BOURBON, CONSTABLE OF FRANCE. As remarkable instances of haughti- "Then at the balance let's be mute, What's done we partly may compute, -LORD BYRON, The life of Coriolanus is familiar to all classical readers in the pages of Plutarch, who derived his materials from Livy and Dionysius of Halicar biographer by more than a century. nassus, authors preceding the Greek Their information came from Fabius Pictor. He lived and wrote two hun dred years before they were born, and is the first Roman who composed an historical account of his own country. His work is known to have been lost. That which still remains and bears his name, has been proved by Gerard Vossiust to be a spurious composition. Shakspeare transfused the essence of Plutarch into his own glowing scenes, with accuracy enriched by genius ; and those who are old enough to remember John Kemble in Shakspeare's magnificent paraphrase, have seen the lofty Roman move before their eyes in living identity. According to the nearest computation, Coriolanus lived about six hundred years before the Christian era. The period refers back to a remote date, but there are no conclusive grounds for supposing that these early annals are to be rejected as unauthentic, however they may have reached us through oral tradition, or transmitted documents. All writers are agreed on their leading features, and this unanimity of opinion in es sential points is reasonable evidence of veracity. Written memorials are sometimes less to be depended on than tra * Burns's " Address to the unco guid, or the rigidly righteous." with See his treatise, "De Historicis Latinis." Gerard Vossius must not be confounded Majesty remark-" Vossius is a strange fellow for a parson: he believes everything except was sceptical in matters of religion, but very credulous on all other subjects. This made his the Bible." ditions. They are more likely to be distorted by prejudice, biassed judgment, or wilful misinterpretation. Traditionary lore is usually founded on fact. It may amplify, but rarely invents. Discrepancies in particular details exist in the most unquestionable authorities. Such may be traced even in the inspired writings of the Evange lists; but no candid arguer attempts, on this showing, to depreciate the currency or throw doubt on the sterling value of the works in which they appear. Neither would the argument be received by clear logicians, if it was put forward. Antiquity is not in itself a necessary bar to correct information. Truth is still accessible, although it may be distant, fenced round with obscurities, and the avenue of approach a winding path, instead of a direct and open road. Where positive evidence is wanting, we must rely on circumstantial testimony; and if both are deficient, there is still a retreat on probable inference. The course is admissible in reasoning, if not in law. We can speculate with more certainty on the causes and effects of many ancient revolutions of the world than on some that have occurred within recent times. We are more familiar with the siege of Troy than with the siege of Paris by Henri Quatre. We know more of Horace and Cicero than we do of Shakspeare, and possess more undisputed details on the campaigns of Alexander and Cæsar, than we can produce of the wars of Turenne, Marl borough, or Napoleon. The present age inquires deeply, and demands substantial proof. There is a disposition in the spirit of the day to question reputed learning, early discoveries, and statements hallowed by time. Our ancestors were easily satisfied, and believed everything they saw in print. We reject positively one half of what has been handed down as history, and are much inclined to throw doubt on the remainder. Everything is now put to the question, and being subjected to the torture of analysis, generally turns out to be something else. Established opinions are thrown aside Lord Byron's "Don Juan," canto iv. as exploded fallacies to such an extent, that we hourly expect to hear the Newtonian philosophy repudiated as a mistake, and to find Euclid ostracised as an unsound mathematician. In a comparison with modern genius, the "wisdom of the ancients" is descending to a very humble level. Does it ever occur to any of the competitors in this headlong race that they may gallop too fast, and that Shakspeare once said something about "vaulting ambition which o'erleaps itself, and falls on the other side?" There can be no doubt that, with the progressive march of education, every succeeding race of man is, as it ought to be, wiser and more enlightened than that which went before; but it is surely no token of wisdom to deny all that has been said or done by our progenitors, or to ignore their existence altogether. Between extreme credulity and utter disbelief, the balance of evil vibrates as a pendulum, in regular time and equal proportions "And so great names are nothing more than nominal, And love of glory's but an airy lust, From out the wide destruction which, entombing all, Leaves nothing till the coming of the just,' Let us, in the interim, turn over once again the leaves which afforded us such delight in our boyhood, and endeavour to extract from them a summary of what we find in connexion with the present subject. Caius Marcius derived the surname of Coriolanus from his supereminent valour and conduct at the capture of Corioli-a distinction not easily won where all were brave, and courage was synonymous with virtue. Scipio Africanus the Elder has been mentioned by several historians as the first Roman who bore the name of a conquered state, as a trophy of renown achieved in war, thus carelessly passing over Coriolanus and the exploit immortalized by his honorary cognomen. The family of Marcius was one Amongst others, by the usually accurate Abbe Seran de la Tour, in his Life of Scipio. Livy and Horace mention a Roman general about this time, called Posthumius Regillensis. If this was the same dictator (Aulus Posthumius) who commanded at the victory of Lake Regillus, which is not clearly indicated, his honorary surname preceded that of Coriolanus by several years. |