At the time of Sir John Moore's death, Charles Wolfe was a lad of seventeen. No doubt the tragic death of Moore made a great impression on a susceptible mind, but during the ensuing six years great events had become commonplaces. Europe was an armed camp, kings had tumbled off their thrones, the map was continually being altered; England had sustained the Peninsular campaign, and had at length fought the great Battle of Waterloo. These crowded events had obliterated and minimised the campaign by Sir John Moore. One summer afternoon Charles Wolfe hears this account read by Samuel O'Sullivan from the Edinburgh Annual Register, 1808: "Sir John Moore had often said that if he was killed in battle he wished to be buried where he fell. The body was removed at night to the citadel of Corunna. A grave was dug for him on the rampart there by a party of the 9th Regiment, the aides-decamp attending by turns. No coffin could be procured, and the officers of his staff wrapped the body, dressed as it was, in a military cloak and blankets. The interment was hastened, for about eight o'clock in the morning some firing was heard, and the officers feared that if a serious attack were made they should be ordered away, and not suffered to pay him their last duty. The officers of his family bore him to the grave; the funeral service was read by the chaplain, and the corpse was covered with earth." Fired with the eloquence of this extract, Wolfe at once composed the first and last verses of the ode, and in a few hours completed it. The wonder is where he got his facts from, for the poem bristles with facts. Every editor who has published the poem has altered it, more or less, to his own fancy. Classics are not generally so treated. The first stanza (from the original manuscript of Joseph Wolfe, as given to his friend Swanston in February, 1809) runs thus Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note As his corpse to the ramparts we hurried ; Archdeacon Russell quotes rampart," others o'er the ramparts," as though to pass beyond them. Some soften corpse into corse. There is no reference to the facts in the Edinburgh Annual Register (which was written neither by Southey nor Scott, but by James Moore, the hero's brother). The presence of music at a military funeral would strike a civilian, its absence a soldier. We buried him darkly; at dead of night, What does" to bury darkly" mean? All the copies leave out the semicolon after darkly," which improves the sense but destroys the historical truth. He was not interred until broad daylight, but his grave had been dug at dead of night. If the semicolon were placed after “ him” (viz. we buried him; " it would make both sense and truth. Turning the sods with bayonets was a curious fact that is mentioned neither by Napier, James Moore, Southey, nor any of the numerous accounts in the contemporary Press. Sir G. B. Airy (Athenæum, January 21st, 1871) calls it "sheer nonsense, gratuitous nonsense. An untouched town like Corunna, and an untouched citadel like its fortress, always abound with pickaxes and spades." Where did Charles Wolfe learn that only one lantern was used? The third line of this stanza is generally printed By the struggling moonbeam's misty light. But this is historically false, as the moon was invisible. It will be seen that when Joseph Wolfe composed it, a few days later, it was a bright moonlight night. Some writers say he was buried by torchlight, which sounds more picturesque but is untrue. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; In the second line, "bound" is generally used for "wound." Many have ridiculed the statement that no coffin could be obtained in a large town like Corunna, but they forget that the Spaniards did not use coffins. The corpse is conveyed to the burial ground in a shell, which is taken back. It must also be remembered that although the Spaniards welcomed our troops as deliverers, yet they regarded us as heretics, and would not give a drink of water to a dying man, or treat the corpse of a dead soldier with any more respect than they would treat a dead dog. Coffins were not used generally in England until late times. During the Irish famine the deaths were so numerous that the dead were taken to the cemetery in a coffin with a hinged bottom; the body was dropped into the grave, and the coffin served again. Napier and others say the burial was in the citadel, which was certainly incorrect. The last line of this stanza, the one most often quoted, might offend a nice taste. Homer would not have called the cloak "martial," or his boots or trousers. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. Palgrave and Ward have, "On the face that was dead." Sir G. B. Airy objects to the first line that the full funeral service was read: probably true; but it was read hurriedly, and the burial service is hardly "prayers." The Rev. H. J. Symons, who in 1852 was Vicar of St. Martin's, Hereford, writes: "I am the clergyman who officiated on that memorable occasion . . It now being daylight, the enemy discovered that the troops had been withdrawn and embarked during the night. fire was opened by them shortly afterwards on the ships in the harbour. The funeral service was therefore performed without delay, as we were exposed to the fire of the enemy's guns. We thought as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, A How the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, The third line is nearly always quoted, "That the foe." Miss Woods alone writes, "How the foe." Lightly they 'll talk of the spirit that 's gone, But nothing he 'll reck, if they let him sleep on Miss Martin writes the third line And little he'll reck "others" if they 'll let him sleep on. This stanza is of the nature of a prophecy, and supports the ancient character of vates. The officers of Sir John's force had loudly complained of his neglecting to engage the enemy: their discontent caused the loss of discipline amongst the |