University of Virginia Library

“NEWS FROM PARNASSUS.”

Under this attractive heading a paper called Mrs.
Grundy signalized her first issue by a gross attack
on the literary character of a somewhat notorious
contributor to the columns of this paper—The
New York Citizen. What the Old Lady meant
by it, we are at a loss to imagine. We never trod
on her toes, injured her umbrella, poked fun at her
poke-bonnet, or mislaid her pattens. On the contrary,
our notices of her débût were most generous—
perhaps far more kindly than she deserved; and
should have been paid for at five dollars a line:
but no such price, nor price of any kind, was
given. Fancy our feelings, then, when we found
the Old Lady, in her very first issue, thus accusing
poor Private O'Reilly of plagiarism, piracy, “private-eering,”
and other nameless offences. The
following is the attack, which we reproduce verbatim
before appending our reply:

“LITERARY PRIVATE-EERING.

“Of all impositions on a confiding public, literary
deceptions are perhaps the most odious. The man
who obtains money by false pretences is liable to
legal punishment. But before what court. other

than that of public opinion, can we arraign the
obtainer, on false pretences, of literary fame?

“Into these reflections we have been led by the
receipt of a letter from the Reverend and Venerable
Father Gulielmus Henricus Au-Relius, an
eminent and learned monk of the Huron Theological
Institute, in Canada West, calling attention
to the fact that certain songs relative to our late
war are now obtaining currency, both here and in
Europe, as original productions; whereas, in fact,
they are but poor translations from certain of the
less known Latin poets of the Second Empire.

“As a very flagrant instance of this species of
misappropriation, father Au-Relius sends us the
original Militum Carmen, from the works of Claudius
Claudianus (Amsterdam edition by Burmann,
1760), the last of the Latin Classic Poets, who
flourished in the time of Theodosius, enjoying the
patronage of the Empress Serena, and who finally
had a statue of honor erected to his memory in
the Forum of Trajan.

“This beautiful relic of antique genius, which
originally appeared in the De bello Gildonico—an
unfinished historical poem, by Claudianus, on the
war in Africa against Gildo—has been rather
poorly translated quite recently, and has obtained
wide currency in literature as the `Song of the
Soldiers,' its translator—one Soldier O'Reilly, or
Miles Au-Relius, as the learned Father calls him

—impudently palming off his coarse English rendering
as an effort of his own muse.

“Here is the true Militum Carmen of Claudianus;
and that every reader may be able to judge for
himself how grossly it has suffered in the Miles
Au-Relian or O'Reillyan translation, we follow it
with the lame English version of the classical
`Private,' who must hereafter change his title to
that of `Pirate' in the minds of all scholarly
men:

“`SONG OF THE SOLDIERS.

[“Translation of the foregoing, audaciously claimed as original
by Private Miles O'Reilly.]

“May we not well say of this: `The force of
impudence can no farther go?' Not only is the
translation a poor and decrepit one, but some of
its finest ideas—

for example, are wholly omitted and ignored.

“In some subsequent issue, we shall call attention
to yet other Classical Piracies of the same
kind by this and other putative authors, the subject
being enormously prolific; insomuch that
very nearly one-half the popular songs of the
present day, for which certain of our illuminati
receive credit as original, will be found, on competent
examination, to be mere translations, of
more or less merit, from certain neglected authors,
writing in the Latin, Greek, Irish, Sanscrit, Gælic,
Sclavonian, or other `unknown tongues.”'

To the foregoing charge our answer is as follows:
We want to see that “Amsterdam Edition

by Burmann, 1760,” of the works of Claudius
Claudianus before losing faith in the honor of our
eccentric Milesian Boy. General Dix informs us
that he has searched his edition of Claudianus, and
all the editions in the Astor Library, but no such
verses can be found therein; and Mr. Alexander
T. Stewart—a very excellent classical scholar, who
has held on to his early studies and accomplishments
through a life of the most successful labor
in the whole history of commerce—has distinctly
authorized us to offer the handsome sum of $10,000
“for any not forged edition of the poet in question,”
or any other “of the less known Latin poets
of the Second Empire” containing the Militum Carmen
as above quoted.

Has not the “Reverend and Venerable Father
Gulielmus Henricus Au-Relius,” who is described
by Mrs. Grundy as “an eminent and learned
monk of the Huron Theological Institute, in
Canada West”—has not that pious and exemplary
man been rather poking some classical fun at the
Old Lady, which the Old Lady may have taken
too literally? In a word—Is the English a translation
from the Latin of Claudius Claudianus, who
lived more than a thousand years ago; or is the
Latin of Claudianus a translation from the English
of Private Miles, who is alive and kicking to-day—
and somewhat anxious, were she not a woman, to
kick Mrs. Grundy?

The original family name of the O'Reillys, as is
well known, was Au-Relius—the Boy Miles claiming
an unbroken lineal descent from Marcus Au-Relius
Antoninus, who succeeded to the Roman
Empire on the death of Antoninus Pius, whose
daughter, Festina, this Marcus O'Reilly had previously
espoused. It is from the paternal side,
therefore, the Boy professes to derive his devotion
to philosophy and literature; while the pious part
of his character comes to him through his ancestress,
the Empress Festina, whose father was known
in life as Antony the Pius—or “Praying Tony,”
as the Boy irreverently styles him. Now, is it
not just possible that this “Father Gulielmus Henricus
Au-Relius,” of the Huron University, may
be some disappointed member of the O'Reilly
family—perhaps a near relative—who is jealous
of the success of our humble soldier-poet, and
takes this surreptitious method of attempting to
injure him in Mrs. Grundy's and the public's estimation?
So clearly is this our own view of the
case, that we “see” Mr. A. T. Stewart's offer of
$10,000 for that Amsterdam volume, and “go
twenty thousand dollars better!” Will Father
William Henry O'Reilly, of Canada West, send us
on his proofs?