Protestant Exiles from France/Book First - Chapter 13 - Section XVI

by David Carnegie Andrew Agnew

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XVI. James Six, M.A.

James Six, the only son of the Fellow of the Royal Society, was born at Canterbury in 1757. His natural abilities and success in his studies led his father to send him to Cambridge, where he was of Trinity College B.A., 1778 ; M.A., 1781. He had the reputation of being a great linguist, having mastered Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Italian, French, and German. During his academical course he obtained prizes in mathematics as well as in classics. Like his father, he excelled in drawing. And in character and demeanour he was formed after the paternal model, having a sweetness of manners and benevolence of disposition that endeared him to his family and to all who became acquainted with him. As a Fellow of Trinity College he was selected to accompany the son of Sir John Stanley in a tour through Europe. He travelled a second time, and at Rome he caught a fever, of which he died on 14th December 1786. There he was buried with peculiar honours in presence of the English visitors, and notwithstanding the general strictness of the Romish Church, the English funeral service was read over him by Rev. Dr. Walsby, chaplain to the Duke of Gloucester. Sir Thomas Stanley erected a monument over his grave. His parents placed an elegant marble tablet in the Church of the Holy Cross, Canterbury, with this epitaph:—

James Six, M.A.,
Fellow of Trinity College in the University of Cambridge,
died at Rome, Dec. 14, 1786, aged 29 years,
and was buried in that city.
A monument erected there by a friend and countryman
bears honourable testimony to his amiable virtues and extensive learning.
To preserve in this his native place
the memory of the son so justly dear,
his affectionate parents have inscribed this marble.

He had printed nothing except an English translation (published in the Gentleman’s Magazine, vol liv.) of two odes by the German poet, Friedrich Leopold, Count von Stolberg. I give an extract from the second ode, which evinces no inconsiderable command of beautiful language :

Hail to the Bard! to Homer hail!
From trembling lips and glistening eyes
Burning melting ecstacies
Shall never fail
With gratitude’s soft dew to swell thy song,
As in stupendous course it rolls along.
.⁠.⁠.⁠.⁠.⁠.
Nature — who taught the rose
Its blushing beauties to disclose
⁠And drink celestial dew —
She form’d and she imbued thy opening faculties
⁠With graces ever new.
She gave thee, with invention’s eye,
New earths — new heavens to descry;
She gave (the utmost that her love could do)
Tears to every feeling true, —
Those that with gushing flood the countenance o'erflow
Where boisterous passions glow —
And those more mild and meek
Which trembling eyelids pour
In trickling shower
Down the changing cheek.
She gave thy soul
The dove’s simplicity and eagle’s might,
Like to thy song
Now gliding soft along
As rivulets by Cynthia’s silver light,
Now thundering wild and loud, as headlong surges roll!

May 8, 1782.

J. Six.⁠

The following memorial lines were written by Mr. W. Jackson : —

In obitum Jacobi Six, M.A., nuper Romae in more Ecclesiae Anglicanae sepulti.

Hie jacet — ast eheu! quantum mutatus ab illo —
Spes nuper patriae , spes quoque prima patris.
Care, vale! juvenis, quern lamentabile fatum
Duxerat ad Roma; moenia, care, vale!
Terra tegit Romae, insolitos concedit honores;
Spes patris et patriae! sit tibi terra levis.

The romantic interest that was felt in James Six is represented by the appearance of four translations of the above lines. (Nichols’ “Literary Anecdotes,” vol. ix. Gentleman’s Magazine, vol. lvii., part I.) The first translator suggests, as an emendation to the fifth line,

Terra lugens Roma; insolitos concessit honores.

Here his remains (alas! how chang’d) reside, A sire’s first hope — his country’s recent pride. Farewell, dear youth, whose doom disastrous calls (Dear youth, farewell!) to Rome’s protecting walls! Thy sire’s — thy country’s hope, in honoured rest Light be that earth, uncustom’d, on thy breast. Edward Burnaby Greene. Here lies — alas, how early lost! How chang’d! his sire’s, his country’s boast! Dear youth, whom adverse Fortune drew To Rome’s proud walls— dear youth, adieu! Yet Rome to thee rare honours gave, And, as thy Albion, deck’d thy grave. Duteous her hallow’d mould she spread, Light rest it on thy blameless head.⁠P.C.

Here lies (yet ah, how chang’d!), in early bloom, But late his sire’s first hope, his country’s too. Adieu, dear youth! whom to the walls of Rome Thy luckless fate had led— dear youth, adieu! To thee whilst Rome unwonted honours paid She deck’d thee with thy Albion’s funeral rite. Thy sire’s, thy country’s hope — her earth was laid Upon thy limbs — and, oh, that earth be light! Here lies the youth, how chang’d to mortal sight, So late his country’s pride — his sire’s delight. Adieu, dear youth! whom fate relentless drew To Rome’s devoted walls — dear youth, adieu! Thy ashes now, alas! Rome’s earth receives, And funeral rites she unaccustom’d gives; Thy sire’s — thy country’s hope! thy loss we mourn, Light lie the earth upon thy hallow’d urn.