Galway’s impressions of Ireland as a place of abode, and, therefore, was written probably in March or April 1692. I have attempted to translate it.
“My Lord, — An author is allowed to speak sententiously; so here is an aphorism from which you will not dissent, ‘On ne connoit bien le prix des choses, qu’ après les avoir perdues.' I speak from experience, from what I have lost in yourself. Since you left us, conversation languishes, disputation is dead, the combatants are in confusion. Neither rank nor merit receive distinction.
“People still to church can go,
Where grave solid preachers speak,
And the way to heaven show,
In the Savoy or Les Grecs.[1]
But a religion brilliant,
Brisk, animated, disputant,
Beating ratiocinations,
Off hath sailed from habitations.
“One misses not only familiar objects, but also familiar words. We miss that ‘fie! fie!’ so appropriately shutting up an antagonist; we miss that ‘bon! bon!’ which adroitly diverted us from what it was not desirable to hear. Then there was that expression, ‘fiez-vous à moi’ — that noble confidence which inspired listeners, and made it impossible to doubt bold propositions, which you generously advanced. We lose all such in losing you, and we hardly cherish the hope of again seeing them in use on your return.
“Through your example I was passing the time easily with things superfluous and often with things convenient. Your departure removes the example, and consigns me to my philosophy only, which does not suffice. A day will come when you will learn to make a good use of abundance; and you will change our suppers of new-laid eggs for lobsters and other recipes of your officers.
“Madame Mazarin would be inconsolable for your absence, were it not that her absence is so well made up to you. She thinks you happy to be near a king who has delicacy of taste for recreations, and the vigour of the virtues for great affairs.
“What an advantageous thing,
Miremont, to be near a king,
Who to renown from pleasure goes,
Who reposes like a sage,
And the exploits of heroes does,
To be embalm'd through every age.
May he (true patriots to please)
Rejoice in constant victory;
And as now he for turmoil to ease says good-bye,
May he soon change triumphantly turmoil for ease.
“My Lord Galway does not content himself with his wish to tamper with your august house. His corruption has extended to Madame Mazarin and myself — in the shape of usquebaugh for Madame, and of Irish frieze for me. One may be constant without being uncivil. We have accepted the presents, but have held firmly by our integrity. And however strong the temptations presented to us by my Lord Galway expatiating on the attractions of Dublin, the plentiful crops, and the excellence of the fish, we shall not set the refugees the example of settling in that kingdom.
“Adieu, my Lord! I have been trying to enliven serious truths. Nothing can be so true as my regret for your absence, and my desire to see you again.
“Saint-Evremond.”
At the close of the war Miremont was promoted to be a Brigadier. In honour of the occasion, St. Evremond penned some rhymes, which I need not translate. The following is their “argument.” “The campaign is over — but why does he not return, that we may see each other, and sip our tea together? He stays by the King’s command. He is revered as a General. He is styled His Excellency. But he might picture the levee of friends at home who are inconsolable without him. Let him take leave of the magistrates and burgesses of Ghent on New Year’s day at the latest.”
In the beginning of 1699 the French refugee regiments were disbanded. One of these was the Marquis of Miremont’s dragoons, which English scribes sometimes designated Mermon’s regiment. Soon after the accession of Queen Anne, the Marquis was made a Major-General. A pension of £500 a-year was granted to him on the Irish establishment.
On the eve of the declaration of the European war in 1702, the French Protestants of the South rose against their persecutors. This civil war raged throughout Languedoc; the chain of mountains in that province, named The Cevennes, was the
- ↑ Two of the London French Protestant Chapels.
