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would seem that this meaning of it is quite lost. Under a bower of calico and lace are seated every kind of little figure that can be collected: the centre of the background is occupied by a doll which represents the Virgin, and all around are the stupid little figures, which look as if they were gleaned from the toy-shop of some remote country village in England. There were grotesque little images of Oliver Cromwell and Robin Hood, with an apostle or two, and little dogs mounted on squeaking bellows, with little patches of line grass dotted about among them, and candles to illuminate. The visitors' room is crowded with spectators . . . who sit and gaze in admiration on the motionless spectacle, and every now and then break out into a melancholy chant, which I suppose is meant for some act of reverence. If this was seen in a newly-discovered country, I suppose it would be set down as the worshipping of their idols.

What else it can be set down as now, is difficult to define. Certainly, setting this and similar facts by the side of miraculous images and winking pictures, and cures by relics, we know no facts recorded of any ancient idolatry more grossly sensuous than those of the modern Romish and Greek churches. All attempts to draw any distinctions between the heathen and the quasi-Christian creed on these points have, in our eyes, failed utterly; and every excuse or explanation now offered by modern priests for the abomination, has been offered long ago by those of Greece, Egypt, and Rome, and by their Neo-platonist partisans.

The spectators (continues Mr. Mansfield) consist chiefly of Chinás, or women of the lower order: but the ladies of the higher families go about to see them as an amusement; and not, I fancy, without much gratification.

Couple this with the frightful fact that at the expulsion of the Jesuits from Paraguay, the Indians of their boasted Reductions relapsed at once into barbarism and heathendom, proving thus the utter absence of any self-supporting vitality -any real regeneration unto life' -in the Jesuit system; and all we can say of Popery, which daily boasts of its fresh conquests and approaching triumphs, is, that in the very country in which its power has been most unlimited, and least disturbed by external enemies,

that which decayeth and waxeth old is ready to vanish away.'

Paraguay is, as might be supposed, the paradise of smokers. Every one smokes-even at a lady's funeral (where a mulatto-man chants through his nose the whole Latin service, in nothing but a shirt and drawers, with a green-baize poncho, and much spitting on the pavement; and Mr. Mansfield 'never saw such a scoundrelly-looking set of fellows as the priests who officiated,') the chief mourner prepares for the procession by sticking a cigar in his mouth. Even the young ladies of the upper dozen,' who refrain in public, smoke vigorously when alone, at all hours and places; and the tobacco is scarcely, if at all, inferior to that of Havannah.'

Picturesque, lazy, cheerful people they seem-content enough with 'the stationary state' in a country where the necessaries of life may be had for the asking, and quite unaware (and small blame to them) that to remain in the stationary state, in the midst of such a country, while all the nations round them are struggling for the means of existence, is a national sin, because a national selfishness-a burying in the earth the talent allotted to them. For surely a moral duty lies on any nation, who can produce far more than sufficient for its own wants, to supply the wants of others from its own surplus. No one, of course, is Quixotic enough to expect a people to condemn itself to unnecessary labour for mere generosity's sake, and to give away what they might sell but the human species has a right to demand (what the Maker thereof demands also, and enforces the demand by very fearful methods), that each people should either develop the capabilities of their own country, or make room for those who will develop them. If they accept that duty, they have their reward in the renovation of blood, which commerce, and its companion, colonization, are certain to bring; and in increased knowledge, which involves increased comfort, and increased means of supporting population. If they refuse it, they punish themselves by their own act. They discover (or rather, the world discovers by their example)

:

1856.]

The Future of Paraguay.

that national isolation is only national degradation; that the stationary state exists only on paper, and is, in practice and fact, a state of steady deterioration, physical and moral; that to refuse to take their place in the common weal of humanity, and their share of the burdens of humanity, is to cut themselves off from all that humanity has learned and gained, by hard struggles and bitter lessons; to leave the national intellect fallow, and thereby give more and more scope to the merely animal passions; till, frivolous and sensual, the race sinks into the dotage of second childhood: but not self-contented or at peace. To a race in this state, most fearfully is fulfilled the world wide law-'He that saveth his life shall lose it.' Nowhere will life and property be so insecure, as among those peoples who care for nothing but life and property, and who say, with folded hands-Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die.' For over the lazy brute-Arcadia sweep surely terrible storms; their weakness makes them a prey (as the Paraguayans have been) to tyrant after tyrant. Nay, even tyranny itself may be a benefit to them; and the capricious and half-insane dietatorship of a Francia may be the necessary means (as it was in Paraguay from 1820 to 1840) of developing the agriculture and the manufactures of a lazy and debauched race, and thereby giving increased means of subsistence to thousands who must otherwise either have starved, or have gradually sunk into the condition of savage and godless squatters in the fertile wilderness.

The terrible lesson, that no price was too high to pay for industry and order, even of the roughest kind, which Francia taught the Paraguayans, seems not to have been lost upon them; and their conduct since his death, in 1840, has formed an honourable contrast to that of the other South American republics. The general features of this improvement may be read in Mr.

601

Mansfield's volume, pp. 458-463; and the new policy of the republic, which admitted strangers, whom Francia had so jealously excluded, was practically inaugurated in 1853, by the opening of the river Paraguay (which the jealousy of Rosas had long kept closed) to British ships as far as Assumption. A treaty between Brazil and Paraguay has just made Assuncion the thoroughfare for the enormous mineral wealth of the western Brazil; but nothing, it seems to us, can permanently protect Paraguay from those miseries which have desolated every State of South America for the last forty years, save the introduction of a sturdy race of European and American colonists, protected by the strong arms of their civilized mother-countries, from the intrigue, caprice, ignorance, and brutality of the surrounding military despots for the time being. Let us trust that the alliance formed between Paraguay and England, France, the United States, and Sardinia, will not remain waste paper: but that if intervention' be needed, intervention will be boldly employed, to protect both the Paraguayans and the new colonists against the machinations of those surrounding States, whose political career has been marked by nothing but blood, as the many have been butchered periodically for the sake of the ambition and cupidity of the few, and their hired myrmidons. Let the European nations, or the United States, once become fully alive to the enormous capabilities of Paraguay, and self-interest will make them interfere with a strong hand to put down that suicidal anarchy, which they now only regard with contempt: but which they will then begin to fear and hate, as a curse and a hindrance to the progress of the human commonweal. And, meanwhile, may the kindly Paraguayans enjoy themselves, as best they can, in their simple picturesque way, till the fast-approaching day shall come, when play shall be at an end, and work begin.

THE BROTHERS.

[The elder fell in the first onset at the battle of the Alma; the younger died of cholera, one month afterwards, before Sebastopol.]

SLEEP

I.

LEEP on! sleep on! ye beautiful and brave!—
Where late the cannon's boom

Thunder'd its voice of doom;

Where late your charging cry
Rose o'er the rattling musquetry;

All now is still, save Alma's rippling wave;
Sleep on! sleep on! ye beautiful and brave.

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Of years of toil for hours of g'ory;
From off that field, thy first and last,
Thou at one bound hast pass'd

To fame! Ah, Fame, thou cheerest not our grief;
Pale are the brows and cold, where twines thy laurel-leaf.

III.

They saw Death beckon from the fierce hill-side,

As by the camp-fires' light

They watch'd that dreary night;
But when the morning broke

On a hundred batteries' blaze and smoke,

With bounding hearts they clear'd the shot-lash'd tide,
Sprang at the cannon's throat, and wrestling died.

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Sleeps now that brother, too-yet sleeps not there :
O cruel, fatal Chersonese!

Insatiate War! Must fell Disease

With Slaughter join to feed

Thy ever-growing greed?

The siege drags on; valour in vain may dare;
Weapons are mould'ring in the sickly air;

Reckless of shot and shell, ev'n lightest hearts despair.

VI.

Past is your pain and peril: sleep, ye brave!

Glory is yours, and rest!

But many a gentle breast

Shall shudder at your tale,

Many a blooming cheek grow pale ;

While Faith shall turn bereav'd eyes from the grave,
To Him who only taketh what He gave,
Whose Holiest came to suffer and to save:
In Him sleep on! ye beautiful and brave!

N. N. S.

1856.]

ΑΙ

603

JAMI, THE PERSIAN POET.

LL genuine forms,' says Schlegel, 'are organical'-they spontane ously evolve themselves from the hidden nature within. They are not arbitrary or lawless; but if the internal essence have a living vigour, it will clothe itself in its own appropriate dress. The impulse may be an unconscious one-the poet may be wiser than he knows; but the connexion between matter and form lies far deeper than mere accident or caprice. Hence every new kind of poetry which the human soul has produced, has simultaneously assumed a new form of its own; the rises of the hexameter, the elegiac metre, the terza and ottava rima, are landmarks in the history of the human mind; for with each is connected a new world of feeling, a new range of images and thoughts. We see the same law when we turn to Persia, and look at the poetry, which may be called the peculiar native growth of the soil. The wild and impulsive Persian temperament has reproduced itself in the ghazal, a form as peculiarly national as the language or literature of the people. The Eolian and Dorian characters were severally stamped in their lyric measures; and in the same way the form of the Eastern ode faithfully reflects the genius of the East. European poets have tried, with various success, to naturalize the ghazal among us, and especially Rückhert and Count Platen in Germany; but it can never be other than a stranger; and however familiar a guest we may make it, it will still be an alien from our hearths, for its native land lies beyond the sunrise, and there only is its home.

It is interesting to compare for a moment the lyric measures of Greece and Persia, and to mark with how instinctive an intuition each has chosen its own appropriate forms. Alcæus and Sappho could not have written in the ghazal-its chanism is utterly discordant with their genius. We cannot conceive the ode to Venus bound down to its

me

peculiar rhythm, or the passion of Longinus' fragment meted out in rhyming couplets; we feel with an instinctive recoil that such matter and such form no freak of fortune could reconcile. Yet the converse holds with equal truth where the ghazal has grown up as a national form. The Alcaics and Sapphics of the great Æolian poets are not more appropriate to their songs than is the ghazal to the more lawless effusions of the Persian bard. An interchange would have been fatal to each: the chastened strength of the Greek would have become trivial, and the wild impulsiveness of the Persian cramped and stilted.

The mechanism of the ghazal, as we said, is singularly adapted to the genius of Persian lyrical poetry—it has grown up as its natural expression. The wild and passionate character of the ode, its desultory and lawless wanderings, as the poet runs on with no continuous progress, but rather steps as per saltum from theme to theme-the track by which one thought led to another being often too slight and evanescent for the reader's surface-glance to detect

all this admirably harmonizes with the ghazal's wild and desultory rhythm; while, at the same time, the continual recurrence of one rhyme at the end of each couplet unites, like a silver thread, the separate pearls (to use a favourite Persian image*), and binds their dishevelled profusion into order and harmony. The ghazal should contain not less than five couplets, and not more than thirteen, and the sense of each couplet (as in the Latin elegiac) is generally complete in itself, rarely overflowing into the next. The first two lines of the poem rhyme, and the same rhyme recurs at the end of every second line, while the intermediate lines of every couplet, except the first, are left free. This Sir W. Jones has endeavoured to preserve in an ode which he has translated from Jámi; the attempt was not very happy ; but the open

* Thus Háfiz, ghazal gufti, u dur sufti, 'thou hast uttered ghazals and strung pearls.' + Several very pleasing specimens of the English ghazal may be found in Trench's Poems from Eastern Sources; and we can distinctly recognise the Persian measure, even though stripped of its rhyme, in Tennyson's beautiful ode in the Princess:— 'Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk.'

long succession of rhyming syllables which is so frequent in Persian odes.

ing lines, which we subjoin, will serve as a specimen of the measure, and will also give some idea of the How sweet the gale of morning breathes! sweet news of my delight he

brings;

News that the rose will soon approach the tuneful bird of night, he brings Soon will a thousand parted souls be led, his captives, through the sky, Since tidings, which in every heart must ardent flames excite, he brings. Late near my charmer's flowing robe he passed, and kissed the fragrant hem;

Thence odour to the rosebud's veil, and jasmine's mantle white, he brings.

The two great masters of the Persian ghazal are Háfiz and Jámi. From the former's díwán we selected twelve odes, which were given in Fraser's Magazine for September, 1854; and we now present our readers with some similar specimens from the works of the latter. Jámi's name has little of that celebrity in England which hangs round his more fortunate rival's, and few of his odes have ever assumed an English dress; but with his countrymen he has always been an especial favourite, and their common name for his seven great poems is the haft aurang, or 'seven thrones,' -the Ursa Major' of the firmament of Persian poetry.

Of his life we know but little. His real name was Nuruddin Abdurrahman; but he assumed the poetical surname Jámi, from his birthplace, Jám, a small village near Herat, in Khorasan, where he was born A.H. 817 or A.D. 1414. One of his works he dedicated to Mohammed II., the conqueror of Constantinople; nor was he renowned only as a poet, and, least of all, as a mere

writer of love songs. With him, as with so many other Persian poets, the exterior is but the fashion of the times; we must pierce below the surface if we would grasp the poet's real meaning. We hear of Jámi as the erudite doctor of Musulman law, and as the scholar and successor of the great Sufi teacher, Saad-ud-din, of Kashgar; and we must carry this character with us to his books. In all of them more is meant than meets the outward ear; for these are no utterances of the idle votary of pleasure-some Eastern Ovid or Horace,--but the language of a Sufi professor absorbed in his mystic philosophy. The cup, the breeze, the beloved, have all a mystic meaning, which, while the spoken sounds vibrate on the outward ear, speaks loud to the ear of the initiated heart; just as, in the Platonic doctrine, the eye of sense sees the visible and material, while the eye of vónois grasps the essence and idea. Thus Jámi himself, in one of his odes, expressly claims this interpretation for his poetry, when he says—

Far beyond this our world lies the dwelling-place of our beloved; Oh! happy he, who, beneath our words, is the sharer of the secret. Or, again, in another place

If, like the flask, thou takest the cotton from the ear of thy soul,
Thou shalt know what means the secret of the wail of the lute

and the harp!

In Jámi's poetry this mystical character is certainly more distinctly brought out than in that of Háfiz, and those passages are of more frequent occurrence, which bear on their very surface the undoubted impress of Sufeyism; but it is highly important to observe that this is only a difference of degree. In Jámi and in Háfiz the subject matter of the odes is precisely the same; the former only brings out more clearly what the latter usually

expresses by allusions. The mysticism in Jámi will often fill an entire ode, where Háfiz condenses it into a couplet or line. But in each alike it exists; and hence Jámi's odes have an additional value, from thus illustrating and confirming Háfiz's claim to the same system of interpretation.

As a poet, Jámi lacks the condensed vigour of Háfiz, but he has great sweetness and beauty. Un charme inexprimable,' to use De

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