Search And Find

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 345, 4 May 1928, Page 14

Search And Find

[Written for The Sun.] WILLIAM LYON PHELPS, Professor of English language at Yale University, U.S.A., unwittingly gave me the idea to pen these lines and this is how it happened. Some little time ago Mr Phelps wrote a delightful account of his experiences in a little second-hand book-shop in an American city. He confesses to a fondness for pottering about such shops and has picked up some priceless treasures in his time. And he dearly loves to encounter annotations and scraps of verse, written by previous owners in old books. Some of them he quoted. The reading of Mr Phelps’s article reminded me that I had handed down to me an edition of English history in eight volumes, published in 1780. Not really old as old books go, but not exactly new, either. With Mr Phelps’s experience in mind I decided to give the history a closer scrutiny than I had ever done. I found no annotations, but in one volume my search was rewarded; for I stumbled across a new ode to Bacchus. I subscribe neither to its bibulous sentiments nor to the merits of its construction; but the discovery of it did assist me towards a better understanding of the pleasure experienced by Mr Phelps while exploring a similar field. My ‘‘discovery” is written in Latin and on the opposite page is done into English thus: AN ODE. [After the manner of Anacreon.] I have long since resolved in a tavern to die With a bottle of wine to my mouth as I lie, That angels may say when they find me so mellow— In peace rest the soul of this honest good fellow. Jolly bumpers of liquor enliven the soul, And ideas divine flow round a full bowl. Good wine in a tavern to me is far sweeter Than that mixed with water, tho’ served by St. Peter. As by nature each man is endowed with some strain, So I never can write till the fumes reach my brain; From liquor abstaining, a child is my master; Thirst and hunger I fear as my greatest disaster. When warmed with nectar my verses are bright, For the better the liquor the better I write; My brain is unfruitful until mellowed by wine, And then with much ease I can Ovid outshine. Of a spirit prophetic I ne’er am possessed Till sated with victuals my body’s at rest, And when Bacchus despotic with sway rules my pate I’m inspired by Phoebus and wonders relate. (Written in the year 1050 at Oxford by Walter De Mapes, Archdeacon of it. Bandon, December 23rd, 1790.) This is lewd stuff, my masters, and some might say that no good purpose is achieved by publishing it. But this much at least is proved: that sentiments of this kind would not go down these days, nor would a clerk in holy orders write them. ... It is not disclosed in my copy who rewrote the doggerel at Bandon in 1790; but the writing is remarkably clear and neat. Now to It, you owners of ancient folios, and let us have something more refreshing from another century! B. D. Christchurch.

LOUIS XIV. AND THE PAGEANT OF FRENCH HISTORY in the perfumed, but often painful, pageant of French history, rides one of many splendid figures of Royalty, Louis XIV., “The Sun-King,” Louis by the Grace of God, of France and Navarre, the most Christian King. Scribblers, historians, scandalmongers, writers of voluminous letters —all of them have left their faded correspondence among which posterity has delved with avidity. Even in 1928 there is still the glamour of romance about the Court and life of Louis XIV., the greatest French ruler before Napoleon. One likes him still —in an underhand sort of fashion. Mr. C. S. Forester is the latest to add a life of Louis XIV to a large and often contradictory library concerning that gentleman of France. It is a fascinating story, unencumbered by extraneous detail, in which the facts are carefully weighed and placed before the reader. Louis XIV. lives again, and we revel in his resurrection. We are present at his birth, 22 years after the marriage (at 13) of his parents. We see the nobles pledge themselves to a tiny hoy of four and a-half. Mazarin stands by, a sinister figure in a crimson robe. The tiny King grows up in an atmosphere of war and little education, while Anne of Austria, his mother, aad Mazarin, govern the country. At 23 Louis marries Marie Louise of Spain—dull, ignorant, with had teeth and a had complexion. Before that he had shown a preference for women of the Court, a preference which has made many infamous women famous and most of them unhappy. So Mr. Forester Unfolds his pageant; the appointment ot Colbert, who set the industries of all France in action, built canals, improved trade and produced the millions which were later to be lavished and ruthlessly wasted on' Versailles and othet palaces and on the “Sun King’s” mistresses, Trianon, for example, a dehcate palace of porcelain which housed the wanton La Montespan, through whose slim white hands poured millions of francs. But there were other mistresses, a dozen or more—the daughter oe Mazarin and her sister, La Valliere, who loved her King so ardently that she bored him; La Fontages, several others and then Maintenon. Undue attention is not paid to the courtesans. There is a vivid pictute of Louis's drama of wars (all of which he provoked himself) with Spain, William of Orange and Marl-\ borough, his invasion of the Low Countries and his attempt for world! power, his foreign policy and its re- 1 vival (and fall) of trade. Mr. Fores-

ter points out that Louis XTV. was a brilliant diplomat, hut was monstrously selfish. He had a tireless energy and a clear but somewhat limited mentality, but he was never a poltroon. He was never drunk; he even mixed his champagne with water, hut he was a gross and hearty eater. For a supper at 10 o’clock at night he satisfied his hunger with four plates of soup, a pheasant, a partridge, ham, hashed mutton, salad, pastry, sweets and fruit. His constitution must have been noble—he died within a few days of his 78th year. Louis’s attention to etiquette reached the ridiculous, but it was done to break the power of the country nobles. Hundreds of courtiers watched him prepare for bed, rise in the morning and take his meals. None dared sit or speak. Neither did any dare to be absent. Louis evidently enjoyed the privacy of a goldfish.

"Louis XIV,”, by C. S. Forester. Our copy comes direct from the publishers, Alethuen and Co., Ltd., London.