AN
OCCASIONAL
ADDRESS SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE
ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT,
Nov.
ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT,
Nov.
Robert Burns
TO
JOHN MAXWELL OF TERRAUGHTY,
ON HIS BIRTHDAY.
[John Maxwell of Terraughty and Munshes, to whom these verses are
addressed, though descended from the Earls of Nithsdale, cared little
about lineage, and claimed merit only from a judgment sound and
clear--a knowledge of business which penetrated into all the concerns
of life, and a skill in handling the most difficult subjects, which
was considered unrivalled. Under an austere manner, he hid much
kindness of heart, and was in a fair way of doing an act of gentleness
when giving a refusal. He loved to meet Burns: not that he either
cared for or comprehended poetry; but he was pleased with his
knowledge of human nature, and with the keen and piercing remarks in
which he indulged. He was seventy-one years old when these verses were
written, and survived the poet twenty years. ]
Health to the Maxwell's vet'ran chief!
Health, ay unsour'd by care or grief:
Inspir'd, I turn'd Fate's sybil leaf
This natal morn;
I see thy life is stuff o' prief,
Scarce quite half worn.
This day thou metes three score eleven,
And I can tell that bounteous Heaven
(The second sight, ye ken, is given
To ilka Poet)
On thee a tack o' seven times seven
Will yet bestow it.
If envious buckies view wi' sorrow
Thy lengthen'd days on this blest morrow,
May desolation's lang teeth'd harrow,
Nine miles an hour,
Rake them like Sodom and Gomorrah,
In brunstane stoure--
But for thy friends, and they are mony,
Baith honest men and lasses bonnie,
May couthie fortune, kind and cannie,
In social glee,
Wi' mornings blythe and e'enings funny
Bless them and thee!
Fareweel, auld birkie! Lord be near ye,
And then the Deil he daur na steer ye;
Your friends ay love, your faes ay fear ye;
For me, shame fa' me,
If neist my heart I dinna wear ye
While BURNS they ca' me!
_Dumfries, 18 Feb. 1792. _
* * * * *
CXXXI.
THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN.
AN OCCASIONAL ADDRESS SPOKEN BY MISS FONTENELLE
ON HER BENEFIT NIGHT,
Nov. 26, 1792.
[Miss Fontenelle was one of the actresses whom Williamson, the
manager, brought for several seasons to Dumfries: she was young and
pretty, indulged in little levities of speech, and rumour added,
perhaps maliciously, levities of action. The Rights of Man had been
advocated by Paine, the Rights of Woman by Mary Wolstonecroft, and
nought was talked of, but the moral and political regeneration of the
world. The line
"But truce with kings and truce with constitutions,"
got an uncivil twist in recitation, from some of the audience. The
words were eagerly caught up, and had some hisses bestowed on them. ]
While Europe's eye is fix'd on mighty things,
The fate of empires and the fall of kings;
While quacks of state must each produce his plan,
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;
Amid this mighty fuss just let me mention,
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.
First on the sexes' intermix'd connexion,
One sacred Right of Woman is protection.
The tender flower that lifts its head, elate,
Helpless, must fall before the blasts of fate,
Sunk on the earth, defac'd its lovely form,
Unless your shelter ward th' impending storm.
Our second Right--but needless here is caution,
To keep that right inviolate's the fashion,
Each man of sense has it so full before him,
He'd die before he'd wrong it--'tis decorum. --
There was, indeed, in far less polish'd days,
A time, when rough, rude man had haughty ways;
Would swagger, swear, get drunk, kick up a riot,
Nay, even thus invade a lady's quiet.
Now, thank our stars! these Gothic times are fled;
Now, well-bred men--and you are all well-bred--
Most justly think (and we are much the gainers)
Such conduct neither spirit, wit, nor manners.
For Right the third, our last, our best, our dearest,
That right to fluttering female hearts the nearest,
Which even the Rights of Kings in low prostration
Most humbly own--'tis dear, dear admiration!
In that blest sphere alone we live and move;
There taste that life of life--immortal love. --
Smiles, glances, sighs, tears, fits, flirtations, airs,
'Gainst such an host what flinty savage dares--
When awful Beauty joins with all her charms,
Who is so rash as rise in rebel arms?