I will write something like this." He also, oddly enough, resolved that, when he became a man, he would write a "round poem "—this being with him the beau ideal of perfection. "I remember," he long after remarked to a friend, "as well as if it was but yesterday, how I leaned upon a rail as I stood upon some steps in Fulneck, and deeply and silently mused in my mind on the commotion which would be produced upon the public by the appearance of this round poem." The revolution which had been thus wrought in the mental being of our young hero was aided and deepened by subsequently listening to the recital-for he was not permitted to read it himself-of Blackmore's "Prince Arthur." The rumbling majesty of the heroic lines completely captivated his fancy, and prompted in his mind the determination to be a Blackmore. But the principal "poetical preceptor" of the young aspirant was the old Moravian choir-book, probably the most curious collection of sacred lyrics then extant. Consisting, as they did, almost entirely of literal translations from the German, these hymns were revolting to a cultivated taste, the language being often inharmonious, and the metaphors puerile or ridiculous. Yet the earliest rhyming efforts of Montgomery were directed to an imitation of these rude compositions. By secretly borrowing books fitted to enrich and stimulate his imagination—which he was obliged to read by stealth-he had, before he was ten years of age, filled a manuscript volume with his poetic first-fruits. Most of these were of a serious tone, and bore a resemblance, in style, structure, and sentiment, to the pieces which were daily sung or read by the Brethren. The exercise of composing verses, it appears, was kindly encouraged among the scholars at Fulneck; for we learn in the Memoirs of Montgomery, that on the birthday of any favourite scholar, it was usual for his schoolfellows to present him with some poetical tribute, which, after being perused by the master, was read before the bishop. An anecdote of Montgomery, in relation to one of these occasions, is on record, which is worth repeating here. James happened to be among the tributary bards engaged to furnish congratulatory verses on a certain birthday; but being too listless to perform his task, and knowing that another boy had a good stock of verses in his folio, our tyro bargained with him for a copy, selecting which he judged the best. It was sent up with the rest to the master for examination, when, to his confusion and mortification, it turned out that there was one exactly similar to it, which another boy, as indolent as himself, had procured in the same way. After offering a humiliating explanation, he retired for a season, and, on reappearing, produced a composition which was deemed superior to any of the others presented. Another birthday anecdote may be mentioned as an illustration of some of the customs of this institution, and the simple piety of the children. It was usual for the boys belonging to the different classes to take tea with each other. Montgomery, then in his ninth year, was placed with scholars of his own age and attainments. One day the beverage was changed; and when the boys had all partaken, they formed a circle, hand in hand, and sung a hymn. One of the youngest of the number was then placed in the centre of the ring, to officiate in prayer. Kneeling down, he thus ingenuously gave utterance to his feelings: "O Lord, bless us little children, and make us very good! We thank thee for what we have received. Oh, bless this good chocolate to us, and give us more of it!" "When he came to the closing sentence," said Montgomery, "we could scarcely maintain our gravity, though it was the natural expression of every one of our hearts." A passing allusion has been made to the reading of books in a clandestine manner. This practice arose out of the rigorous surveillance exercised over the scholars of the establishment. The excessive strictness of the tutors is thus described by Montgomery, when referring to his ten years' residence at Fulneck :-"During the whole of this long period I was as carefully secluded, in common with all my schoolfellows, from any commerce with the world, as if we had been imprisoned in a cloister. I do not recollect having once, during all that time, conversed for ten minutes with any person whatever, except my companions, our masters, or occasional Moravian visitors." From this stringent system, books, as has been hinted, were not exempted. As an instance of the vigilant care of the instructors, the following incident is told. The father of one of the boys sent to the school a volume of selections, chiefly from Milton, Thomson, and Young, and consisting, as he supposed, of their finest moral and religious sentiments. The book, however, was carefully examined and expurgated before it reached the hands of its owner, who was mortified to find it so seriously mutilated, many leaves having been cut out and others shamefully mangled. But, notwithstanding the literary privations thus imposed, the inquisitive poet found means of importing the forbidden luxuries into the house; and these draughts of knowledge were sweet to his taste-all the sweeter for being stolen. The pains that were taken, from commendable motives, to conceal certain matters from him, only served to stimulate his curiosity and make him more eager to explore them; and the issue of this process, as it almost invariably happens, was most deplorable in the case of our young poet. It came to pass, that religion itself, he tells us, was at length brought before the court of inquisition in his own heart. He studied, reasoned, doubted, and almost disbelieved what he had hitherto adhered to on the credit of his tutors; the simplicity of his soul was lost; and it was his life-long lamentation that he had so lost it. The monotony of Montgomery's scholastic life was occasionally relieved by summer rambles to remarkable places in the neighbourhood, some of which, when afterwards idealized by memory, furnished topics for poetic description. The establishment was also, from time to time, temporarily roused by the appearance of distinguished visitors. Among others who came during Montgomery's residence at Fulneck, were the Rev. John Wesley, the Moravian bishop Watteville, son-in-law to Count Zinzendorf, and the eccentric Lord Monboddo. The good bishop was long remembered by the boys for his curled wig, the "holy kiss" which he imprinted on all their cheeks, and the confectionery which he distributed among them. The visit of the venerable Monboddo also left an indelible impression upon the mind of Montgomery, from an incident which happened on the occasion. Being introduced to the seminary, and the names of the boys told over to him, the old judge paid but little attention until the attendant said, "Here, my lord, is one of your countrymen;" at which he started as from a brown study, and, brandishing a large horse-whip over Montgomery's head, exclaimed, "I hope he will take care that his country shall never be ashamed of him." The passion for song in our hero's breast acquired greater strength and intensity with the lapse of time. His inven tive powers were ever in active exercise. He frequently retired to rest with a subject on his mind, which he resolved to complete before slumber closed his eyelids and lulled his brain. There was something magnificently daring in his projected flights. Hymns and stanzas no longer satisfied the cravings of his ambition. Before he was fourteen, he had penned a mock-heroic poem, in imitation of Homer's Frogs and Mice, which contained more than a thousand lines. Other heroic pieces were planned, begun, and discarded for some more captivating theme. Another poem, taking in the mighty range of human history, and entitled "The World," was very far proceeded with. This was intended to eclipse "Paradise Lost," and dispute the bays with Milton! But the subject which fired his soul most at this time, and kindled his poetic inspirations, was the wars of "Alfred the Great." This juvenile epic opened with a scene in heaven, in which the spirits of departed Englishmen just before slain in a battle with the Danes, are represented as imploring the Almighty to interpose and deliver their country! There was, truly, a certain kind of sublimity in this boyish daring of our unfledged genius. But a change was impending. Despairing of making a Moravian minister of him, the Brethren were perplexed as to the course which they ought to pursue. Wrapped in silent and mysterious abstraction, or excited by poetic frenzies, his studies were habitually neglected. Thinking, at length, that by being brought into closer contact with the rough world, of which he at present knew nothing, his daydreams of fame might be dispelled, they resolved to put him to business for a time, leaving their future dealings towards him to be guided by circumstances. Here, then, on the threshold of a new stage of his existence, we leave our hero for a season. EOTHEN. THE CORONET AND THE CROWN. THE Duke of Hamilton, who died at an early age at the close of the last century, was from a child remarkably serious, and took great delight in reading the Bible, by which he became "wise unto salvation through faith in Christ Jesus." On his death-bed, he called his younger brother to his side, and after addressing him with the deepest affection and solemnity, concluded with these words: "And now, Douglas, you will soon be a Duke, but I shall be a KING." (Rev. i. 6.) "BROTHER, adieu! I'm going to die, To leave our proud ancestral halls; I'm glad to go, since Jesus calls. To which I haste through Jesus slain. My birthright, as my gold, with you: Because you might not bear it too. Robed in my Saviour's righteousness. "Mourn not, nor weep when I am dead, "A crown is mine, of glory bright, To which yon bauble seems but dross; "Jesus must have your heart. Adieu! Bear well the honours time will bring. Like faith be ours, and hope, and love; For though he ne'er may be a DUKE, E. W. |