Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 59, No. 368, June 1846

Finally, as our readers may begin to think they have enough of this, we shall close our comparative view by some quotations from the Wager of Battle, by which the Wolf and the Fox ultimately terminate their disputes.

Soltau"The trumpets then began to sound,And next the wardens did appear,And call'd the champions forth, to swear.Growler advanced, his oath to take;He swore, that Reynard was a rake,A murd'rer, and a treach'rous wight,For which assertion he would fight."Then Reynard in his turn did swear,That Growler was a perjurer;To prove his charge, he did defy him,Because he basely did belie him."The wardens then admonish'd both,To fight with honour and good troth.This being done, the lists were clear'd,Where both the combatants appear'd."The combatants with equal rageAnd fury now began t'engage.The Wolf, by dint of strength and art,Attack'd the Fox with leap and start;But Reynard, being shrewd and light,Avoided him by cunning flight,And while he ran, he did not failTo water well his rugged tail.When Growler meant to hold him fast,He nimbly veer'd about at last,And with his tail the dust and dirtHe full into his face did flirt.Whilst Growler rubb'd his eyes with pain,Reynard his flirts renew'd again,Till Growler was quite spent at last,And by the throat he held him fast.'Sir Wolf,(he said,)if heretoforePoor lambs and kids you oft have tore,It is high time now to repent,Before your last breath you have spent,And with contrition to behave,If you would wish your soul to save.'"In this provoking style he spoke,Striving his enemy to choke;But Growler was for him too strong,And broke loose from his hold erelong;Though ere he got out of his jaws,Reynard gall'd him with teeth and claws;One of his eyes was almost out,And streams of blood ran down his snout."As soon as he his blood did view,At Reynard in a rage he flew;He got him under, and his pawHe seized, and held it in his jaw.'You caitiff, your last hour has come,(Said he,) and you'll meet with your doom.'T shall not avail you now, to shear,To flirt, kick up a dust, and smear.I'll make you pay for all your lies,And for the damage of my eyes.'"Whilst Growler kept hold of the paw,Sly Reynard with his other clawSeiz'd him in such a tender part,That it made Growler howl with smart,And forced him soon to ope his jaw,And to let go the imprison'd paw.Reynard now tugg'd, and pull'd, and tore,And made the Wolf spit blood and gore;He brought him senseless to the ground,And dragg'd him through the lists around."When this his wife and friends perceived,They were much terrified and grieved.Then pray'd the king to use his right,And to suspend the bloody fight."The king took their request to heart,And bade the champions straight to part,To whom the leopard and the ounce,As wardens, did his will announce."Reynard," they said, "the king has sentTo let you know 'tis his intentTo put an end to all your strife.He bids you to spare Growler's life;For 'twould be a pity after all,If either of you both should fall.Meantime all, who are present, sayThat you at last have won the day.'"Naylor"Hark! hark! the tuckets sound on high!'He comes! Sir Isengrim!' they cry.The Wolf and all his kith and kinApproach in long array! The dinTheir multitudinous trampling madeResounded like a cavalcadeOf mailèd warriors on the march,Or winds that, through a wood of larch,The groaning branches swing and sway,And thunder out and roar alway.Still forward they their course observe,Neither to right nor left they swerve;But onward to the lists the bandMarch up, then halt, and take their stand.When first the Wolf – 'I here repeatThe Fox a villain is, and cheat!I brand him murderer to boot!Adulterer! with heart, as sootIs, black! that solemn truth do IWager on hazard of this die!'Then Reynard – 'What the Wolf allegesAre lies! I'll prove it! and my pledge isThe victory, which I by battle,This day will gain o'er yon base cattle!'The marshal of the lists then cried:'The right shall by the might be tried,What fair and fetis is, that do!The god of battles prosper you!'He said, then towards the side withdrew.The rest soon follow'd; save the two,Who occupied alone the space,And stood for action face to face!The marshal now, with plumed hat on,Beside the barrier stood; his batonOf office thrice he whirled aloft;And not a soul or spake or cough'd.'Oyez! oyez! oyez!' he cried,'Will each of ye the issue bide?''We will!' they answer. 'Are ye ready?''Yes!' 'Yes!' – 'Then LAISSEZ ALLER!' said he.Reynard address'd him then to fight;And Isengrim commenced to biteThe air, and show'd his teeth, by wayOf prelude to the coming fray;Next, rear'd his snout, and brought the jowlTo Reynard's level; one loud howlHe utter'd, ere he crouch'd, then boundedTo where the Fox, no whit astoundedBy noises so unknightly, stood;For raising lofty as he couldHis voice, the foe the terms defied.'Come on,' he resolutely cried.The struggle was commenced! The sternestThere present felt it was right earnest;The Fox, as smaller of the two,Was favourite; and when he drew'First claret,' at that tapping actionThe mob express'd their satisfaction;Exclaiming, 'go it! ten to oneUpon the varmint little 'un!'By this time had Dan Phœbus clombThe summit of his glowing dome,And Isengrim his power to feelBegan, which made the Wolf to reel.He mourn'd his hapless want of claws,His teeth, too, batter'd by the pawsOf Reynard, woefully he miss'd;For grasp'd within his well-clench'd fist,The Fox a flint stone firmly held,With which he deftly aim'd and fell'dOne after t'other every fang,Till down his weasand, at each bang,Successively they flew. This thingTo Isengrim so punishing,Set him forthwith to calculateThe odds on his superior weight,How best it might the foeman tell on —Which done, he threw himself pêle-mêle onThe Fox, to bear him down intending.But Reynard saw: instead of spendingHis strength in any vain endeavour'Gainst Isengrim, he waited everUpon the Wolf – so this time hePerceived the rushing enemy,And as he near'd him slipp'd aside.The Wolf came on with awful stride,But meeting not with Reynard there,He buffeted the yielding airInstead, found no impediment,His force him to the barrier sent,Where toppling heels o'er head he wentWith emphasis – a heavy flop,'My eyes,' the mob cry, 'what a whop!'Then Reynard to the Wolf stepp'd close,And said aloud, 'How lik'st the dose?Friend Isengrim, there yet may beFor pardon opportunityEre thou departest, only speed ye,Or else the wandering ghosts, I rede ye,Of all the lambs and kids thou'st slainWill haunt thee through the wide champainWhither thou'rt ebbing fast, down yonder;But softly, is he kill'd I wonder?'For so it seem'd. Through that vast crowdA pin drop had resounded loud.Thought Reynard, he has got it now!I'll rest awhile, for any howIf he the fight again beginI'll try the trick upon his shin.Stunn'd lay the prostrate Wolf quite stillAnd stiff, nor moved a peg untilHis squires, much fearing for his life,Rush'd in, preceded by his wife;And lifting him upon their knees,They gave him salts to make him sneeze,Which thirteen times he did repeat,Then started lively to his feet.A feeling of relief ran throughThe crowd, whose visages look'd rue,To think their fun forestall'd and spentBy that untoward accident.Again the tuckets sound – againThe dauntless heroes give the reinTo their revenge. The Fox now chargesThe Wolf, and both his eyes enlarges,With right and lefters planted well,And punches on the nob that tell;So hard and fast the bangs and thumps,You'd thought that firemen at their pumpsWere working —– crafty Reynard quickDeliver'd him a villain kickRight in the midriff – down he dropp'd!Like some tall forester when lopp'dBy stroke of woodman's axe. 'Twas allHe spake, not groaned in his fall,Outstretch'd upon the ground there layThe Wolf – he'd fainted clean away.No herald's voice, no tucket's cheer,The noble Isengrim could hear;An all but victor lately, nowProstrated, palsied by one blow;Nay, not so, by a kick unknightly,Foul aim'd, yet for the mark too rightly,Alas, its only merit that!But what cared Reynard, it was pat,And told, and did its business well;'Twas every thing desirable.The fight was o'er – the Wolf dragg'd outMore dead than living, 'mid the shoutOf rabble, whilst the heralds cry'Largesse,' the others 'Victory.'The air with noise and din resounded.The friends of Isengrim, confounded,Slunk off, whilst Reynard's stay'd; indeedThe very people who agreedThe Fox's death a public goodHad been, now 'mong the foremost stood,By acclamations to attestRegard outheroding the rest!"

We have not the heart to criticise this last and greatest effort of the reproducer. Its slang speaks for itself, and certainly carries along with it an undeniable "certificate of origin".

A good translation of any thing is perhaps an impossibility. But it must be confessed, that the attempt of the German foreigner is highly creditable to him, and, with a little amendment, would probably afford our countrymen as fair an idea of the original as they are ever likely to see. Certain it is, that Mr Naylor has not improved upon it.

If our readers think, that in the samples we have given of Mr Naylor's beauties, we have not sufficiently brought forward some of the more striking peculiarities of the Cockney school, we shall meet this complaint by presenting them with the subjoined anthology, the fragrance of which we think will satisfy their highest anticipations.

"The first in consequence at court,As foremost in the public thought.""Your cap and gloves you've left in pawn,Thus adding ribaldry to scorn.""What visitors had been? they tell herHow Reynard call'd, and said, 'nice fellow.'""Malkin should fall! and now the forkBy Martin turn'd to tomahawk.""No sooner had the foe withdrawnTo howl around the priest forlorn.""Besides, he must have more than thought onceUpon the very vast importance.""Of solemn asses half-a-score,Who kick, when tickled with a straw!""I left him trapp'd, and then made sheer off:His sufferings you can't form idea of.""From underneath the frame I drawThe pin that propp'd it: with a roar.""Their eggs upon a heap of straw,Then loitering hindermost, the more.""When it was bruited round the courtHow Reynard was by greybeard brought.""Grimalkin there one eye had lost,His scalp from Bruin's head been forced.""With any thing, in short, to fastenGuilt on him – burglary – e'en arson!""Than at the words the Queen, alarm'd,Nigh swoon'd before her fears were calm'd.""The son dishonour'd: not a strawIt weigh'd with him, to think how sore.""There dwelt my father; him they sought,And plotted, whilst they soak'd his port.""To practise after my papa—Through life my light and exemplar!""Another life to lead he's sworn:And will to-morrow at the dawn.""Then, turning to the Queen, besoughtHer majesty in merry sport.""Quoth Reynard, as with sudden thoughtBefore the portal stopping short.""We have so many a sally-port,And cul-de-sac, we can't be caught.""Send far and near the heralds forth,By blast of trump to tell my wrath.""At Rome, I on our banker draw,And when that's gone, I send for more.""That none dared venture! This he sawAnd felt his pluck return once more.""But I've no clawsAnd therefore am not fit for wars.""By envy eaten up, they sawMe prosper; looking all before.""And ever, when they walk'd abroadEach arm'd with hunting-whip and cord."

If any of our readers doubt the authenticity of some of the rhymes above set down, we are willing that they should buy the book, as we have done, and ascertain for themselves.

Merciful as we are by nature, and growing more and more so every day by age, we yet feel that the enormities we have now denounced are beyond endurance. Such poetry as this, neither gods, men, nor booksellers should tolerate; and with the highest respect for the very excellent publishers who have assisted in the birth of this production, and to whom we owe so many useful and admirable contributions to knowledge and literature, we do venture humbly to submit, that their peculiar duty makes them somewhat more responsible for what is thus brought forth, than ordinary obstetrical practitioners can be for what they may help into the world. There is no reason that such a bantling should be born at all, and at least we would recommend the continuance of gestation for nine times the Horatian period. Seriously speaking, we always regret to miss the general security which the title-page should give us, that in what we buy, we shall have something for our money. A bad or inferior book may, inadvertently, issue from the most respectable quarter. But when a work is ushered into the light with such pomp and pageantry of paper, printing, and getting up, as are here lavished, we hold that the public have a right to expect that it has received the imprimatur of some discerning judge, and to enforce the implied warranty that the inside, as well as the outside, is a merchantable commodity in the market of Parnassus.

But the publisher's part of it is the least of the evil. It is obvious that the natives of Cockneyland are forgetting themselves. A new generation has sprung up that do not remember the castigations bestowed on their fathers of yore, and which for a time kept them in tolerable subjection. A young Londoner, who happens to have enthusiasm, or industry, or information, on a particular subject, may deserve commendation for the laudable direction of his private studies; but is he, therefore, entitled to haspire to write, and not to write merely, but to write poetry, and to disfigure a venerable old poem under pretence of reproducing it? That is a different question, which needs to be seriously and decidedly dealt with. This is not the first time, within a brief period, that we have been compelled to make an example of similar delinquencies; and, as sure as the crutch is in yonder corner, it shall not be the last, if the nuisance be not speedily and completely abated.

THE AMERICANS AND THE ABORIGINES

A Tale of the Short War. Part II

The conclusion of our first notice of "The Americans and the Aborigines," saw Hodges, the midshipman, on his way to the Mississippi, and, if he could find it, to his ship; whilst Tokeah and his Indians returned to their village upon the banks of the Natchez. There, upon the day after the arrival of the warriors, we find the Indians assembled and deliberating in their council-house. Some important matter is evidently in agitation: an ominous gloom hangs over the village; and Canondah, to whom her father has not spoken since his return, and who is in complete ignorance of what passed between him and Hodges, is shut up in her wigwam with Rosa. The absence of one of the Indians, sent as a guide with the Englishman, the silence of Tokeah, and their state of semi-captivity, render the two girls sad and anxious, and they busy themselves with a thousand conjectures as to what has occurred, when a shrill whistle attracts them to the window. The sight that there presents itself chases the blood from the cheeks of Rosa, and causes her to sink, terrified and half-fainting, into the arms of her friend.

A large boat, of similar build to the one in which Hodges had arrived, ascended the river, impelled by the strokes of six vigorous rowers. Besides these, two other men were seated in the skiff, which now entered the creek where the canoes were moored. The Englishman's boat was amongst the latter, and seemed to attract the particular notice of one of the two men; he glanced sharply at it, and then made a remark to his companion, who nodded his head, as if assenting to his observation. The man who had spoken stepped on shore. He was of the middle height and slightly made, with a sunburnt complexion, hollow cheeks, in which the smallpox had left black, unpleasant-looking scars, and a pointed and rather red nose. The expression of his eyes, which were sunken and of a dark-grey colour, and his enormous whiskers and mustaches, gave him any thing but an agreeable physiognomy. There was an air about him as if he strove to appear natural and unassuming, but at times his false side-glances and malicious smile more than neutralized all his efforts. His dress was a short blue frock, buttoned up to the chin, trousers of the same colour, and a cap. After addressing a few words to his companion, who had also come ashore, he walked with a quick step and military gait towards the Miko's wigwam. Just then the Indian council broke up; the old chief strode slowly and gravely towards his dwelling; whilst the warriors hurried in various directions to their respective wigwams. It seemed as if they avoided the new-comer; for not one of them crossed his path, although he evidently expected them so to do. He gazed silently after the receding groups, shook his head, and entered the Miko's hut.

"Here I am, friend Tokeah!" cried he, with a forced smile, stretching out his hand to the Miko, who was seated upon his couch, calm, and with his head bowed upon his breast. "I'm a man of my word, you see. Arrived only last night in the bay; but the devil take me if I could keep quiet: started off again, and rowed all night and all day; and here you see me, old friend, as hungry as a sea-lawyer, and as dry as a dolphin." He spoke in English, fluently enough, but with a strong French accent.

Tokeah knocked with his finger upon the table, and Canondah came out of her room.

"Canondah!" cried the man, stepping forward with an air of gallantry to salute her. The young girl avoided his embrace, and with the single word, "Welcome!" slipped out at the door. Our guest appeared thunderstruck.

"What does this mean, friend Miko?" cried he. "Am I in disgrace? Should really be sorry for it. As I came across the meadow, your people made all sail from me, as if I had been a privateer; and now you are as cold as a nor'-wester, and your daughter as stiff as a frozen cable. Apropos – you have had a visit. The young Englishman, I see, has been amongst you."

As he spoke these last words, the stranger cast a lowering glance at the old man.

"Of whom does my brother speak?" said the chief.

"Of a prisoner – a young fellow who escaped whilst I was at sea."

"My young brother has been here and is gone," replied Tokeah, dryly.

"Gone!" repeated the other; "you probably did not know that he had escaped from me. But it matters not," added he, indifferently.

"The Miko knew," replied the old man in a firm tone, "that his young brother had escaped from the chief of the Salt Lake. My brother ought not to have made him prisoner."

"What! would not the Miko of the Oconees seize the Yankee who came as a spy into his wigwam?"

"And was my young brother a Yankee?" inquired Tokeah, with a penetrating glance.

"Not exactly; but an enemy" —

"My brother," interrupted the Miko, "has too many enemies – the Yankees, and the warriors of the great father of the Canadas."

The man bit his lips. "Pshaw!" said he; "you have the Americans on the wrong side of your heart, and I have both. That's all the difference."

"The Miko," said the old chief, "lifts the war-hatchet to protect his people against the palefaces, and to avenge his slain brethren. But my brother has lifted the tomahawk against every one, and, like a thief, steals women and children."

A burning crimson overspread the countenance of Tokeah's visitor, and his teeth chattered with rage. "Truly, Miko," said he, "you say things which I can hardly stomach;" and with gleaming eye he measured the old man from head to foot. Suddenly, however, resuming his former smile – "Nonsense," said he; "we won't quarrel about trifles. Let every man do what he likes, and answer for what he does."

"When the Miko of the Oconees gave his right hand to the chief of the Salt Lake, and welcomed him to his wigwam, he held him for a friend and a brother, who had declared war against the Yengheese. Had he known that he was a thief" —

"Monsieur Miko!" interrupted the pirate, threateningly.

"He would not have taken him for his friend. Tokeah," continued the Indian with dignity, "lifted the tomahawk against the palefaces as the Miko of his people, but the chief of the Salt Lake has made him a robber. What shall he, the chief of the Oconees, say to the Yengheese warriors when he falls into their snares? They will hang him on a tree."

The truth, thus fearlessly and decidedly spoken, made an impression upon the pirate. He walked several times hastily up and down the room, and then again stopped opposite to the old man.

"We'll say no more about that, friend Tokeah," said he. "I do not count the scalps that you have stripped from the skulls of the Yankees, and you must not reckon too severely with me. What is done is done; but the future will be very different. I am fully decided to abandon my wild course of life, and then we'll sit down quietly, and live together in a little paradise, half à l'Indienne, half à la Francçaise. Jovial and joyous."

"The Miko of the Oconees," replied Tokeah, "has never stained his hand with the blood of his friends. He is poor, but his hand has never touched what belonged not to him. His fathers would look down on him with grief, if he lived in friendship with a thief; the Great Spirit would hide his face, if he disgraced his people by an alliance with the robber."

The Frenchman had listened to these words more tranquilly than might have been expected, but with a slight twitching of his features, that showed they touched him to the quick. Suddenly he turned away.

"Is that your way of thinking?" said he. "You fancy you can get on better without Lafitte? I've no objection. If I had known it sooner, I would have spared myself the trouble of listening to your insolence, and you that of uttering it. Adieu! Monsieur Miko."

"My brother is hungry," said the Indian, starting up, and greatly shocked. "He must eat. Canondah has prepared his favourite repast."

"And after he has eaten, he may make himself scarce?" said the pirate, surlily.

"My brother is welcome in the wigwam of the Miko. His hand never closes when it has once been opened," said the old nan, soothingly.

"Come, that sounds like reason. I thought my old friend had only caught a fit of spleen from the Englishman. I trust it will soon be over. Meanwhile, we'll see what the ladies are doing."

He stepped up to the curtain, and tried to open it, but in vain.

"Is it not allowed?" said he to the old man.

"My brother must seek another squaw. Rosa shall not enter his wigwam."

In the adjoining chamber a sound was heard. It resembled a cry of joy, but presently subsided into a gentle murmur, of one in prayer.

The pirate stood stupefied opposite to the curtain. "Our alliance broken off, the door shut in my face!" muttered he. "Eh bien! nous verrons." And so saying, he left the hut. The next minute he again put his head in at the door.

"I suppose I may make use of my own boat?" said he. "It is likely that I may have unwelcome visitors during my absence."

"When the chief of the Salt Lake is on the war-path, he knows how to meet his foes."

"Sensibly spoken for once," said the pirate.

"My brother is hungry," said the Miko, pointing to his daughter, who now entered the room with several dishes.

"We'll come directly. Duty before pleasure."

And so saying, the bucanier hurried down to the shore, and approached his companion, a short square-built man, who was walking up and down with folded arms, and whose dark olive countenance was so buried in an enormous beard, that scarcely any part of it, except a long fiery Bardolphian nose was visible. This man, so soon as he saw the pirate, assumed a less nonchalant attitude, and his hands fell by his side into the position proper to a subordinate.

"Nothing happened, lieutenant?" said Lafitte.

"So little, that I should almost doubt this to be the Miko's village, did not my eyes convince me of it. Beg pardon, captain, but what does it all mean?"

"I might ask you the same question," replied the other, sulkily.

"On our former visits," continued the lieutenant, "it was like a fair; but to-day not a creature comes near us. The squaws and girls seemed inclined to come down, but the men prevented them."