22 



DISCOVERY 



His descriptive methods in this extract are those of 

 Byron in Don Juan. Moreover, the movement of the 

 first three lines very nearly resemble many of Byron's. 

 There are passages in Wolcot where, in addition to 

 similarity in speed, movement, and pose, he almost — 

 but not quite — stumbles upon the " Don Juan Stanza." 

 He was, without doubt, a precursor of Byron, and 

 without doubt Byron read him well. It is possible to 

 consider carefully these curious relationships between 

 poets without forgetting for a moment how widely 

 asunder in point of achievement they may be. 



Yet Wolcot was, in truth, capable of many things ; 

 of an epigram : 



" .\ poet and a kingdom and a cat 

 Should never never never be too fat." 



of enunciating a philosophy : 



" Care to our cofiSn adds a nail, no doubt ; 

 And every Grin, so merry, draws one out. 

 I own I like to laugh, and hate to sigh 

 And think that risibility was given 

 For human happiness, by gracious Heaven ! 

 And that we came not into life to or)- ; 

 To wear long faces, just as if our Maker, 

 The God of Goodness, was an Undertaker, 

 Well pleased to wrap the Soul's unlucky mien 

 In Sorrow's dismal crape or bombazeen. 



" Methinks I hear the Lord of Nature say, 



' Fools, how you plague Me ! go, be wise, be gay ; 



No tortures, penances, your God requires : 



Enjoy, be lively, innocent, adore ; 



And know that Heaven hath not one Angel more 



In consequence of groaning Nuns and Friars. 



Heaven ne%'er took a pleasure or a pride 



In starving stomachs, or a horsewhipp'd hide. 



And now this Ballade shall prove whether Wolcot 

 is not a better writer than scores of poets and rh\Tners 

 who still receive an absurd amount of attention in 

 histories of English literature : 



" BALLADE 



" Couldst thou look into mjTie Hearte, 

 Thou wouldst see a Mansion drear ; 



Some old haunted tower aparte, 

 WTiere the Spectre bands appear : 



Sighing, gliding, ghostly forms, 



'Mid the ruin shook by storms. 



" Yet mv Hearte, whiche love doth slighte. 

 Was a Palace passing fair ; 

 Which did hold Thyne image bright. 



Thee the Queen of Beauty rare ; 

 Which the laughing Pleasures fiU'd 

 And fair Fortune's sunne did gild. 



"When shall my poor Hearte. alas. 



Pleasure's Palace be again ? 

 That, sweete Mayde. may come to pass 



WTien thou ceasest thy disdain e : 

 For thy smiles, like beams of day, 

 Banish Spectre forms away." 



That is not an isolated instance. In his " new old 

 ballads " many tuneful songs are to be found, their 

 subject-matter based upon close reading of the Eliza- 

 bethans. Wolcot was deeply read in English litera- 

 ture ; even his earliest Truro Lampoons show that he 

 was well conversant even at that time with Chaucer. 

 Later in life he spoke and wrote strongly about the 

 universal neglect of Shakespeare. His natural bent 

 led him to the study of comic writers, of whom he 

 considered Hudibras the greatest. 



After the collected edition of his works was published, 

 Wolcot, now grown old, settled down for the rest of 

 his life in a little cottage in Somers Town, which stood 

 in a gardener's ground called " Montgomery's Nur- 

 sery." It is now the precincts of Euston Station, but 

 at that time was a rural retreat. Here until the year 



GEORGE AXD THOM.\S W.\RT0X BEIXG KNOCKED OFF 



PEGASUS BY WOI,COT-S SATIRE. 



\ caricature by Rowlandson, illustrating Ode upon Ode, by Peltr Pindar. 



of his death he remained, infirm and blind, but still 

 writing. It is possible to see him distinctly amongst 

 his possessions in these last years. Behind the door, 

 and opposite a broad window that opened to the 

 ground, stood a square piano. On it lay his favourite 

 Cremona violin, which is still preserved in a house in 

 Canada. His aiTnchair faced the fire, the piano was 

 on his right. A landscape by Wilson hung over the 

 mantelpiece and two enamels by Bone. On his shelf 

 was a Shakespeare, second folio. He could still strum 

 the piano and play the fiddle, and even occasionally 

 composed light airs for amusement. When wTiting 

 verses he generally employed an amanuensis. But he 

 also continued until shortly before his death to write 

 with his own hand, one stanza on each piece of paper. 

 Several of these essays of the old blind poet are in the 

 possession of the present writer. 



There is nothing in English literature quite like the 

 burlesque style of Dr. Wolcot. Utterly unscrupulous in 



