Enough!—no more!—Thank Heaven, 'tis o'er! The tragedy's done! and we now draw a veil O'er a scene which makes outraged humanity quail; The last fire's exhausted, and spent like a rocket, The last wretched Hebrew's burnt down in his socket! The Barriers are open, and all, saints and sinners, King, Court, Lords, and Commons, gone home to their dinners, With a pleasing emotion Produced by the notion Of having exhibited so much devotion, All chuckling to think how the Saints are delighted At having seen so many "Smouches" ignited:— All, save Privy-purse Humez, Who sconced in his room is, And, Cocker in hand, in his leather-backed chair, Is puzzling to find out how much the "affair" (By deep calculations, the which I can't follow,) cost,— The tottle, in short, of the whole of the Holocaust.
Perhaps you may think it a rather odd thing, That, while talking so much of the Court and the King, In describing the scene Through which we've just been, I've not said one syllable as to the Queen; Especially, too, as her Majesty's "Whereabouts," All things considered, might well be thought thereabouts; The fact was, however, although little known, Sa Magestad had hit on a plan of her own, And suspecting, perhaps, that an Auto alone Might fail in securing this "Heir to the throne," Had made up her mind, Although well inclined Towards galas and shows of no matter what kind, For once to retire, And bribe the Saints higher Than merely by sitting and seeing a fire,— A sight, after all, she did not much admire; So she locked herself up, Without platter or cup, In her Oriel, resolved not to take bite or sup, Not so much as her matin-draught (our "early purl"), Nor put on her jewels, nor e'en let the girl, Who help'd her to dress, take her hair out of curl, But to pass the whole morning in telling her beads, And in reading the lives of the Saints, and their deeds, And in vowing to visit, without shoes or sandals, Their shrines, with unlimited orders for candles, Holy water, and Masses of Mozart's, and Handel's.[30]
THE AUTO-DA-FÉ.
And many a Pater, and Ave, and Credo Did She, and her Father Confessor, Quevedo, (The clever Archbishop, you know, of Toledo,) Who came, as before, at a very short warning, Get through, without doubt, in the course of that morning; Shut up, as they were, With nobody there To at all interfere with so pious a pair; And the Saints must have been stony-hearted indeed, If they had not allow'd all these pains to succeed. Nay, it's not clear to me but their very ability Might, Spain throughout, Have been brought into doubt, Had the Royal bed still remain'd curs'd with sterility; St. Jago, however, who always is jealous In Spanish affairs, as their best authors tell us, And who, if he saw Anything like a flaw In Spain's welfare, would soon sing "Old Rose, burn the bellows!" Set matters to rights like a King of good fellows; By his interference, Three-fourths of a year hence, There was nothing but capering, dancing, and singing, Cachucas, Boleros, and bells set a ringing, In both the Castilles, Triple-bob-major peals, Rope-dancing, and tumbling, and somerset-flinging, Seguidillas, Fandangos, While ev'ry gun bang goes; And all the way through, from Gibraltar to Biscay, Figueras and Sherry make all the Dons frisky, (Save Moore's "Blakes and O'Donnells," who stick to the whisky;) All the day long The dance and the song Continue the general joy to prolong; And even long after the close of the day You can hear little else but "Hip! hip! hip! hurray!" The Escurial, however, is not quite so gay, For, whether the Saint had not perfectly heard The petition the Queen and Archbishop preferr'd,— Or whether his head, from his not being used To an Auto-da-fé, was a little confused,— Or whether the King, in the smoke and the smother, Got bother'd, and so made some blunder or other, I am sure I can't say; All I know is, that day There must have been some mistake!—that, I'm afraid, is Only too clear, Inasmuch as the dear Royal Twins—though fine babies,—proved both little Ladies!!
Moral.
Reader!—Not knowing what your "persuasion" may be, Mahometan, Jewish, or even Parsee, Take a little advice which may serve for all three!