The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore :: :: University of Virginia Library

The money rais'd—the army ready—
Drums beating, and the Royal Neddy
Valiantly braying in the van,
To the old tune “Eh, eh, Sire Âne!” —
Nought wanting, but some coup dramatic,
To make French sentiment explode,
Bring in, at once, the goût fanatic,
And make the war “la dernière mode”—
Instantly, at the Pav'llon Marsan,
Is held an Ultra consultation—
What's to be done, to help the farce on?
What stage-effect, what decoration,

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To make this beauteous France forget,
In one, grand, glorious pirouette,
All she had sworn to but last week,
And, with a cry of “Magnifique!”
Rush forth to this, or any war,
Without inquiring once—“What for?”

After some plans propos'd by each,
Lord Chateaubriand made a speech,
(Quoting, to show what men's rights are,
Or rather what men's rights should be,
From Hobbes, Lord Castlereagh, the Czar,
And other friends to Liberty,)
Wherein he—having first protested
'Gainst humouring the mob—suggested
(As the most high-bred plan he saw
For giving the new War éclat)
A grand, Baptismal Melo-drame,
To be got up at Nôtre Dame,
In which the Duke (who, bless his Highness!
Had by his hilt acquir'd such fame,
'Twas hop'd that he as little shyness
Would show, when to the point he came,)

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Should, for his deeds so lion-hearted,
Be christen'd Hero, ere he started;
With power, by Royal Ordonnance,
To bear that name—at least in France.
Himself—the Viscount Chateaubriand—
(To help th' affair with more esprit on)
Offering, for this baptismal rite,
Some of his own fam'd Jordan water —
(Marie Louise not having quite
Used all that, for young Nap, he brought her,)
The baptism, in this case, to be
Applied to that extremity,
Which Bourbon heroes most expose;
And which (as well all Europe knows)
Happens to be, in this Defender
Of the true Faith, extremely tender.

Or if (the Viscount said) this scheme
Too rash and premature should seem—

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If thus discounting heroes, on tick—
This glory, by anticipation,
Was too much in the genre romantique
For such a highly classic nation,
He begg'd to say, the Abyssinians
A practice had in their dominions,
Which, if at Paris got up well,
In full costume, was sure to tell.
At all great epochs, good or ill,
They have, says Bruce (and Bruce ne'er budges
From the strict truth), a Grand Quadrille
In public danc'd by the Twelve Judges —
And, he assures us, the grimaces,
The entre-chats, the airs and graces
Of dancers, so profound and stately,
Divert the Abyssinians greatly.

“Now (said the Viscount), there's but few
“Great Empires, where this plan would do:
“For instance, England;—let them take
“What pains they would—'twere vain to strive—

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“The twelve stiff Judges there would make
“The worst Quadrille-set now alive.
“One must have seen them, ere one could
“Imagine properly Judge Wood,
“Performing, in his wig, so gaily,
“A queue-de-chat with Justice Bailey!
“French Judges, though, are, by no means,
“This sort of stiff, be-wigg'd machines;
“And we, who've seen them at Saumur,
“And Poitiers lately, may be sure
“They'd dance quadrilles, or any thing,
“That would be pleasing to the King—
“Nay, stand upon their heads, and more do,
“To please the little Duke de Bordeaux!”

After these several schemes there came
Some others—needless now to name,
Since that, which Monsieur plann'd, himself,
Soon doom'd all others to the shelf,
And was receiv'd par acclamation,
As truly worthy the Grande Nation.

It seems (as Monsieur told the story)
That Louis the Fourteenth,—that glory,

265

That Coryphée of all crown'd pates,—
That pink of the Legitimates—
Had, when, with many a pious pray'r, he
Bequeath'd unto the Virgin Mary
His marriage deeds, and cordon bleu ,
Bequeath'd to her his State Wig too—
(An offering which, at Court, 'tis thought,
The Virgin values as she ought)—
That Wig, the wonder of all eyes,
The Cynosure of Gallia's skies,
To watch and tend whose curls ador'd,
Re-build its towering roof, when flat,
And round its rumpled base, a Board
Of sixty Barbers daily sat ,

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With Subs, on State-Days, to assist,
Well pension'd from the Civil List:—
That wondrous Wig, array'd in which,
And form'd alike to awe or witch,
He beat all other heirs of crowns,
In taking mistresses and towns,
Requiring but a shot at one,
A smile at t'other, and 'twas done!—

“That Wig (said Monsieur, while his brow
Rose proudly,) “is existing now;—
“That Grand Perruque, amid the fall
Of every other Royal glory,
“With curls erect survives them all,
“And tells in every hair their story.
“Think, think, how welcome at this time
“A relic, so belov'd, sublime!
“What worthier standard of the Cause
“Of Kingly Right can France demand?
“Or who among our ranks can pause
“To guard it, while a curl shall stand?
“Behold, my friends—(while thus he cried,
A curtain, which conceal'd this pride
Of Princely Wigs was drawn aside)

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“Behold that grand Perruque—how big
“With recollections for the world—
“For France—for us—Great Louis' Wig,
“By Hippolyte new frizz'd and curl'd—
“New frizz'd! alas, 'tis but too true,
“Well may you start at that word new—
“But such the sacrifice, my friends,
“Th' Imperial Cossack recommends;
“Thinking such small concessions sage,
“To meet the spirit of the age,
“And do what best that spirit flatters,
“In Wigs—if not in weightier matters.
“Wherefore, to please the Czar, and show
“That we too, much-wrong'd Bourbons, know
“What liberalism in Monarchs is,
“We have conceded the New Friz!
“Thus arm'd, ye gallant Ultras, say,
“Can men, can Frenchmen, fear the fray?
“With this proud relic in our van,
“And D'Angoulême our worthy leader,
“Let rebel Spain do all she can,
“Let recreant England arm and feed her,—

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“Urg'd by that pupil of Hunt's school,
“That Radical, Lord Liverpool—
“France can have nought to fear—far from it—
“When once astounded Europe sees
“The Wig of Louis, like a Comet,
“Streaming above the Pyrenées,
“All's o'er with Spain—then on, my sons,
“On, my incomparable Duke,
“And, shouting for the Holy Ones,
“Cry Vive la Guerre—et la Perruque!”

They celebrated in the dark ages, at many churches, particularly at Rouen, what was called the Feast of the Ass. On this occasion the ass, finely drest, was brought before the altar, and they sung before him this elegant anthem, “Eh, eh, eh, Sire Âne, eh, eh, eh, Sire Âne.” —Warton's Essay on Pope.

Brought from the river Jordan by M. Chateaubriand, and presented to the French Empress for the christening of young Napoleon.

See the Duke's celebrated letter to madame, written during his campaign in 1815, in which he says, “J'ai le posterieur légèrement endommagé.”

“On certain great occasions, the twelve Judges (who are generally between sixty and seventy years of age) sing the song and dance the figure-dance,” &c. —Book v.

“Louis XIV. fit présent à la Vierge de son cordon bleu, que l'on conserve soigneusement, et lui envoya ensuite, son Contrat de Mariage et le Traité des Pyrenées, magnifiquement relié.” —Mémoires, Anecdotes pour servir, &c.

The learned author of Recherches Historiques sur les Perruques says that the Board consisted but of Forty—the same number as the Academy. “Le plus beau tems des perruques fut celui où Louis XIV. commenç à porter, lui-même, perruque; ------ On ignore l'époque où se fit cette révolution; mais on sait qu'elle engagea Louis le Grand à y donner ses soins paternels, en créant, en 1656, quarante charges de perruquiers, suivant la cour; et en 1673, il forma un corps de deux cents perruquiers pour la Ville de Paris.” —P. 111.

A celebrated Coiffeur of the present day.