FullReads

It seems (as Monsieur told the story)
That LOUIS the Fourteenth,–that glory,
That Coryphee of all crowned pates,–
That pink of the Legitimates–
Had, when, with many a pious prayer, he
Bequeathed unto the Virgin Mary
His marriage deeds, and cordon bleu,
Bequeathed to her his State Wig too–
(An offering which, at Court, ’tis thought,
The Virgin values as she ought)–
That Wig, the wonder of all eyes,
The Cynosure of Gallia’s skies,
To watch and tend whose curls adored,
Re-build its towering roof, when flat,
And round its rumpled base, a Board
Of sixty barbers daily sat,
With Subs, on State-Days, to assist,
Well pensioned from the Civil List:–
That wondrous Wig, arrayed in which,
And formed alike to awe or witch.
He beat all other heirs of crowns,
In taking mistresses and towns,
Requiring but a shot at one,
A smile at t’other, and ’twas done!–

“That Wig” (said Monsieur, while his brow
Rose proudly,) “is existing now;–
“That Grand Perruque, amid the fall
“Of every other Royal glory,
“With curls erect survives them all,
“And tells in every hair their story.
“Think, think, how welcome at this time
“A relic, so beloved, sublime!
“What worthier standard of the Cause
“Of Kingly Right can France demand?
“Or who among our ranks can pause
“To guard it, while a curl shall stand?
“Behold, my friends”–(while thus he cried,
A curtain, which concealed this pride
Of Princely Wigs was drawn aside)
“Behold that grand Perruque–how big
“With recollections for the world–
“For France–for us–Great Louis’s Wig,
“By HIPPOLYTE new frizzed and curled–
“New frizzed! alas, ’tis but too true,
“Well may you start at that word new—
“But such the sacrifice, my friends,
“The Imperial Cossack recommends;
“Thinking such small concessions sage,
“To meet the spirit of the age,
“And do what best that spirit flatters,
“In Wigs–if not in weightier matters.
“Wherefore to please the Tsar, and show
“That we too, much-wronged Bourbons, know
“What liberalism in Monarchs is,
“We have conceded the New Friz!
“Thus armed, ye gallant Ultras, say,
“Can men, can Frenchmen, fear the fray?
“With this proud relic in our van,
“And D’ANGOULEME our worthy leader,
“Let rebel Spain do all she can,
“Let recreant England arm and feed her,–
“Urged by that pupil of HUNT’S school,
“That Radical, Lord LIVERPOOL–
“France can have naught to fear–far from it–
“When once astounded Europe sees
“The Wig of LOUIS, like a Comet,
“Streaming above the Pyrenees,
“All’s o’er with Spain–then on, my sons,
“On, my incomparable Duke,
“And, shouting for the Holy Ones,
“Cry Vive la Guerre–et la Perrugue!”

NOTES:
[1] They celebrated in the dark ages, at many churches, particularly at Rouen, what was called the Feast of the Ass. On this occasion the ass, finely drest, was brought before the altar, and they sung before him this elegant anthem, “Eh, eh, eh, Sire Ane, eh, eh, eh. Sire Ane.”– WARTEN’S Essay on Pope.

[2] Brought from the river Jordan by M. Chateaubriand, and presented to the French Empress for the christening of young Napoleon.

[3] “On certain great occasions, the twelve Judges (who are generally between sixty and seventy years of age) sing the song and dance the figure-dance,” etc.–Book. v.