Introductory material (continued 3)

Pour ceux qui pensent, il n’y a point de langue étrangère.

Lines from the Spanish.

From the Spanish of George de Montemayor.

Phrenology.

Those ingenious gentlemen, the metaphysicians, who have enlightened the world by explaining away the fundamental doctrines of religion, and the principles of human actions and convictions, among other startling discoveries, have introduced a theory on good and evil actions, exceedingly applicable, comfortable, and welcome to all mankind; as it does away with conscience and duty, and makes virtue and vice affairs of physical temperament or organization—in other words, that a man’s merit or demerit is not, as they hold, to be estimated by his deeds, but by the amount of inclination with which he commits them. Men, according to those philosophers, are born with particular inclinations, which lead them insensibly and directly to particular vices or virtues, or, with some peculiar organizations, to all the vices or all the virtues. By this reasoning it appears that it is as difficult for one man to commit a certain crime, as for another to forbear; and, as a natural consequence, that since a man is not accountable for his inclination, the guilt incurred by committing it, is of very unequal account; and that if a man be not praiseworthy for abstaining from a crime towards which he has no inclination, neither is a man blameable for committing it, if he is strongly inclined to it. Nature, not man, ought to be blamed or commended; and the being able to lay the sin of vice or crime to the account of organization, will materially facilitate the completion of it.

Stoves.

Stoves, in Germany, produce on one the effect of living in company with a person blind.

Christina, Queen of Sweden.

In the year 1657, these walls (Fontainebleau) were polluted by a crime which had no parallel in the records of modern times. The murder of Monaldeschi, and all its particulars, as related so naïvely by Le Père Lobel, are too well known to make it necessary to detail them: but the letter that the haughty Christina wrote to the minister Mazarin, when the king’s displeasure was signified by him to her, is less frequently quoted. It is a masterpiece of effrontery and insolence; yet, a fortnight after receiving it, both the king and cardinal paid a solemn visit of reconciliation to the royal murderess.

Letter of Christina, Queen of Sweden to Cardinal Mazarin.

“Monsieur Mazarin,

“Those who have detailed to you the affair of Monaldeschi, my equerry, were very ill-informed. I think it strange that you should compromise so many people in order to inform yourself of a fact which does not concern you. I ought not to be astonished at your conduct, however absurd it may be; but I could have scarcely credited, that either you or your proud young master, would have dared to exhibit towards me any marks of resentment.

“Learn, all of you, valets and masters, great and little, that it was my pleasure to act as I have done: and that I neither am obliged, nor will render an account of my actions to anybody, be they who they may; above all, to a braggadocio like you. You give yourself singular airs for a personage of your rank; but whatever reasons you may have had to write to me, I do not care enough about them to concern myself on the subject for a single instant. I desire you to know, and to repeat it to whomsoever it may concern, that Christina is totally indifferent to the opinion of your court, and still less to yours; that I have no occasion, in order to compass my own vengeance, to have recourse to your formidable power.

“My honour required what was done; my will is a law which it is your part to respect: to be silent is your duty; and there are many persons for whom I have no more regard than for yourself, who would do well to learn how to conduct themselves towards their equals, before they venture to make more disturbances than is requisite.

“Know further, Monsieur le Cardinal, that Christina is a Queen, wherever she may chance to reside; and in whatever place it is her pleasure to live, the persons who surround her, cheats, though they may be, are better than you and your confederates. The Prince de Condé was right, when he exclaimed, at the time when you kept him prisoner so inhumanly, at Vincennes, ‘This old fox will never cease to outrage all the good friends of the state, until, at last, the parliament shall turn off, or severely punish, this illustrious rascal of Piscena.’ Take my advice then, Jules; conduct yourself in a manner to merit my favour; it is a study to which you cannot too much apply. God preserve you from ever daring to utter the least word against me; for, were I at the other end of the world, I should be aware of your proceedings. I have friends and courtiers in my service, who are as adroit and as watchful as any you can boast of, although they may not be so well bribed.”

Sir Benjamin Rudyerd.

Mr. Gifford, in his edition of Ben Jonson’s works, says “There is a beautiful and touching sublimity in the second of these Epigrams, which cannot be too highly prized.” And it may with justice be added, that it will remain a lasting memorial of the worth and excellence of Sir Benjamin Rudyerd.

To Benjamin Rudyerd. Epigram CXXI.

To the same. Ep. CXXII.

Not the less flattering to the talents and judgment of Sir Benjamin is the following—

Ep. CXXIII. To the same.

King of Prussia’s Guard.

When Frederick the Great was forming his Regiment of Royal Guards, it is said, that the monarch was so anxious to obtain tall men, that his corporals often took them by force, wherever they could find them. On one occasion they carried the wish of their sovereign so far, that they took the “heyduc” of the French ambassador, the moment he had quitted his carriage to attend the levee. However, on a complaint from the ambassador, the servant was restored to his master.

It is also related of this ambassador, that on his first audience he came highly perfumed; the great Frederick, who was more accustomed to the smell of gunpowder than of musk, could not refrain from very visibly showing his dislike. The ambassador observed it, and felt much embarrassed. The day being stormy, “De quel côté, sa Majesté croit-elle,” said he, “que le vent vient?” The king abruptly replied, “De France, votre Excellence.”

Premature Judgment.

Never judge harshly from appearances, or pertinaciously form a decided opinion, unless there is sufficient demonstration to prevent future regret.

Benvenuto Cellini.

Benvenuto Cellini arrived in France in 1537, but, offended by the cold reception of Il Rosso,[13] he resolved, notwithstanding the gracious welcome of Francis I. to return to Italy almost immediately, where he was imprisoned in the castle of St. Angelo. By the generous intervention of Francis, he was at length released, and returned to France, where he was most royally provided for; nevertheless, his pride, and jealousy of Primatice, kept him in constant agitation, and at length wearied out the king, whose inclination was always obliged to yield to his caprice; and at last he abandoned the greatest advantages which ever were offered to an artist, and quitted France for ever—a step he never ceased to regret. On one occasion, he went to St. Germains with a vase of silver-gilt, destined for the Duchesse d’Etampes, and was so irritated at the loss of time which he was obliged to submit to before he could be admitted to her presence, that he hurried away, and in the height of his indignation offered the vase to the Cardinal de Lorraine as a present.

Another instance of his furious temper is sufficiently remarkable. He tells, in his confessions, that one of his models, a beautiful French girl, named Catherine, who sat to him for thirty sous a day, having offended him, “Giving way entirely to my rage, I seized her by the hair, and dragged her about the room, kicking and beating her till I was quite fatigued. She swore she never would come near me again; but the next morning at day-break, she came, threw herself on my neck, covered me with kisses, and asked if I was still angry with her.”

Thought.

Sadi, poëte Persan, dit, “que la sagesse est de jouir—la bonté de faire jouir.”

Mind and Body.

Love.

All that has been written in song, or told in story, of love and its effects, falls far short of its reality. Its evils and its blessings, its impotence and its power, its sin and its holiness, its weakness and its strength, will continue the theme of nature and of art, until the great pulse of the universe is stilled. Arising from the depths of misery, descending from heaven the most direct and evident manifestation of a divine and self-sacrificing spirit, it is at once the tyrant and the slave. Happier as the latter than as the former, for the perfection of love is obedience; the power of obeying what we love is, at all events, the perfection of a woman’s happiness.

Wedding Rings.

The wedding ring was not at first of gold, but of iron adorned with an adamant; the metal hard and durable, signifying the durance and perpetuity of the contract. Howbeit, it skilleth not at this day what metal the ring be made of; the form of it being round and without end, doth import that love should circulate and flow continually. The finger on which the ring is to be worn, is the fourth finger of the left hand, next unto the little finger, because there was supposed a vein of blood to pass from thence unto the heart.

Hope and Grief—W. Maddocks.

Impromptu in a Post-chaise, on seeing some Boys playing at See-saw.

Unjust suspicion.

It is painful to describe the combat of innocence and unjust suspicion; it is dreadful to represent the possibility of appearances bearing testimony against truth, and melancholy to reflect that innocence may be oppressed by the blind judgment of men, without deriving aid from the enlightened and all-seeing Judge of the universe.

Thought.

It is the heartless alone who believe that love can grow old. It is, and remains spring forever! As long as the human faculties retain their vigour—as long as the mind is undegraded by selfish interests, and remains faithful to truth, love, once born, lives in an honest heart, diffusing freshness and vigour, even in old age, over the intellect, the feelings, and the whole existence.

Capucine Friars.

The Capucines touch no money but with a pair of pincers, which conveys it into their cowl or sack to carry it to market.

Arms of the House of Medici.

“The house of Medici,” says the author of the Discours merveilleux sur la Vie de Catherine de Medici, “was for a long period hidden amongst the lowest refuse of the people at Florence. It began to rise by means of a collier, who had a son an apothecary, who took the name of his profession; and as we in the present day see people taking for devices the emblems of their trade, as tailors their scissors, masons their hammer or trowel, so this doctor adopted five pills, as it is their habit to order an odd number to their patients.” This is a singular derivation of the armorial bearings of this celebrated house.

Michael Angelo.

Scenes from the Life of Michael Angelo.

In the year 1474, on Monday the 6th of March, at four o’clock in the morning, was born at the castle of Caprese, in the territory of Areggo, Michael Angelo, son of Ludovico de Lionardo de Buonarotti, Governor of Chiusi and of Caprese, and descended from one of the most ancient families of Tuscany.

Although at this period of Florentine history commerce and trade were considered as most honourable pursuits, and indeed to these were ascribed the great power and riches of the state, the father of the little Michael Angelo destined him for his own profession, and already foresaw him a future Governor, nay Ambassador; far from thinking that he was destined to become what he contemptuously termed a mason! But there is a destiny attached to the life of celebrated men; and fate selected for Michael, as his nurse, the wife of a stonemason, and whilst the child throve under her care, and grew strong and robust in the sun and air, his infant hands, hardened by exposure, grasped the chisel and the hammer, and his first cries mingled with the harsh grating of the saw.

It was in vain that the proud parent sought to dissuade the boy, and curb the only inclination he manifested: even at school he contrived to escape the vigilance of the master, and obtained the notice of the artist Ghirlandajo, who said of him, “He is a rising star, that will live to eclipse the brightest planet now shining.” He was even induced to seek Michael’s father, and beseeching him not to oppose the manifest vocation of his son, offered to take him as an apprentice to his art. At this proposal, the Podesta started from his chair in a paroxysm of rage; but after a while he calmly went to a desk, wrote an engagement on the behalf of his son for three years, and with an expression of countenance little less affecting than that with which Brutus signed the death warrant of his son, handed him over to Ghirlandajo. With one bound Michael cleared the staircase, throwing up his cap for joy. He burnt his grammar: true, he was not much more than a servant at Ghirlandajo’s; but what did that matter? he was free to pursue his own tastes, he was happier than a Medicis! He could now bedaub the walls as he chose, he could grind his colours, sketch, or if a morsel of plaster fell in his way, he could mould it to his will, without fearing to have his ears pulled.

Before he had attained the age of thirteen, he was already a great artist, and his success had naturally created jealousy and enmity. A blow from Torregiano, when they as boys worked together, broke the cartilage of the nose, and disfigured that feature for life.

On the other hand, Michael Angelo could not fail to find as many friends, and amongst the most celebrated of the age. Benvenuto Cellini, whose great genius and talents ranked with those of Buonarotti, was his most ardent admirer, and never designated him but as the “divine Buonarotti.”

During the boy artist’s wanderings in the gardens of the Medici palace, he often met some of the stone cutters who had formerly rocked his cradle: they were ever delighted to see him, and frequently obtained him clandestinely a view of the treasures of the gallery, then in its infancy. Michael Angelo contemplated with veneration the mutilated specimens of art. The workmen one day offered him a bit of marble, requesting he would employ it as he liked, and come thither as often as he chose.

His only answer was to grasp a chisel, throw off his jacket, and begin to hammer out the outline of a Faun’s head. Often then was the workshop deserted, to the great displeasure of the master. One day, whilst putting the finishing strokes to his old Faun, a man about forty years of age, plain in person and shabbily attired, stopped, and silently watched him as he worked. Michael Angelo continued to work on, heeding him no more than the dust which fell from his chisel. When he had given the last touch, he drew back, as artists are wont, to look on the effect of the head. For this, probably the silent observer had waited, for he slowly approached, and, putting his hand on the young artist’s shoulder, “My friend,” he said smiling, “with your leave, I would make an observation.”

Michael Angelo turned quickly, and with an air somewhat impertinent and caustic, replied, “An observation!—you!”

“A criticism, if you prefer it.”

“Upon my Faun’s head?”

“Upon your Faun’s head.”

“And, who are you, Sir, who fancy you have a right to criticise my work?”

“It matters not to you who I am, provided my criticism is just.”

“And who will decide, Sir, which of us two is in the right?”

“I will leave the decision to yourself.”

“Well, Sir, speak,” said Michael Angelo, crossing his arms with an air of defiance.

“Was it not your object to make an old Faun laughing immoderately?”

“Undoubtedly, it is easy to be discovered.”

“Well then,” said the critic, “where did you ever see old men with all their teeth perfect?”

The boy blushed to his eyes, and bit his lip. The observation was correct. He only waited till the individual had turned his back, when with one stroke of his chisel he knocked out two of the Faun’s teeth, and even decided on hollowing out the gum on returning next day. The gardens accordingly were no sooner opened than Michael Angelo entered; but the Faun had disappeared, and in its place stood the person he had seen the preceding day.

“What is become of my head?” asked the young sculptor angrily.

“It has been removed by my command,” replied the stranger, with his accustomed apathy.

“And who are you, Sir, who dare to give orders in the gardens of the great Medicis?”

“Follow me, and you shall learn!”

“I will follow, to force you to restore me my Faun.”

“Perhaps you will be better satisfied to leave it where it is.”

“We shall see.”

“We shall see,” echoed the stranger, and then took the path to the palace, with the same calm demeanour; but on his beginning to ascend the staircase, the boy, seemingly terrified as well as angry, caught his arm, saying, “Where are you going, Sir? You are approaching the apartments of the Prince, and although he may look over an intrusion in the royal gardens, we here run great risk.”

On, proceeded the stranger, the servants rising as he approached, the guards saluting.

Michael was lost in wonder. Even supposing him one of the household (he thought to himself), my Faun belongs to me, and he ought to restore it: my labour is my own, and I can pay him for the marble.

The galleries, the saloons were passed through without interruption. Good Heaven! thought the boy, it must be at least the secretary, whom I have thus cavalierly treated.

The stranger threw open the door of a room magnificently furnished, and enriched with all most valuable in art; and the trembling child considered himself as lost, when he remembered his treatment of one powerful enough to be able to approach Lorenzo de Medicis without being announced. Whilst he was stammering out an apology, he raised his eyes, and saw his old Faun placed on a superb bracket.

“You see, my friend,” said the stranger, with the same mild and kind manner, “that if I had your Faun removed from the garden, it was to place it in a more suitable situation.”

“But, my God!” cried the youthful artist, “what will the Prince say, when he discovers this poor attempt amongst so many precious works?”

The Prince held out his hand, “Take it, my friend.”

Any other than Michael Angelo would have thrown himself at his feet; but he burst into tears, and, bowing his head, convulsively pressed the hand offered him by Lorenzo the Magnificent. “Henceforward thou art here at home, my friend; thou wilt work here, dine at my table, and I shall treat you as one of my children. Go to my wardrobe, and desire that they give thee a rich cloak of velvet; velvet, exactly like those worn by Peter and John de Medicis, on days of ceremony.”

“My Lord,” replied the boy, deeply affected, “suffer me first to go to my father, that he may share my happiness. He turned me from his roof as a disobedient and worthless child, and I would return thither a submissive and devoted man. I know my father to be as just as he is inflexible, and he will admit that I have a right to be proud of my disobedience. From this day I may carry my head high; for Lorenzo de Medicis, the first man of the age, has consecrated me an artist.”

“Right, my child; and you may also tell your father, that my patronage will extend to all your family. This very day I will receive him at the palace, and bestow on him any appointment in Florence that may be suited to him.”

Old Buonarotti was quietly breakfasting in his room, which he had scarcely left since he had lost his son, when loud and repeated knocking at the door nearly drove it from its hinges. The Governor hastened to open it himself, but drew back at the sight of Michael Angelo, whom he did not immediately recognize.

Pale, breathless, his head bare, his dress in disorder, covered with dust and plaster, the boy made a spring from the door to throw himself into his father’s arms.

“Begone!” cried the Governor, trembling with passion.

“Father, father, hear me, I implore, before you thus drive me from you. Listen to me but for one moment.”

“You would then force me to curse you.”

“I come from the palace.”

“I neither wish to know whence you come, or what you do. I had once a son called Michael Angelo. He was to have been (at least, I hoped so) the glory, the support of my family, the joy, the comfort of my old age, but I have lost this ungrateful and disobedient son—thank God, he is no longer here, I sold him to the sculptor Ghirlandajo for eighteen florins.”

“For my mother’s sake, hear me! behold me at your feet.”

“Back to your mason’s, that is your place.”

“My place!” said Michael Angelo, rising proudly from his knees, “my place is in the apartment of princes; my place is amongst the first artists of Florence; my place is at the table of Lorenzo the Magnificent.”

“My God, my God, he is mad!” exclaimed the poor father, passing from rage to terror.

“But follow me, father, follow me, and you will see that the great Lorenzo has taken me by the hand, that he has placed me in his palace, that he expects you, that he offers you an employment, according to your choice.”

The old Buonarotti was perfectly upset; he held his head between his hands, and asked of himself which had lost his reason, his son or himself. Michael Angelo not allowing him farther time for reflection, dragged him by force to the palace of the great Medicis. The Governor believed himself to be in a dream. No guard forbade their approach, and the courtiers drew respectfully back to give them passage.

At the door of the Prince’s closet, a page raised the hanging curtain, and the old Buonarotti stood with his son in the presence of the Medicis.

“Sir,” said the Prince, coming forward and courteously addressing him, “I have been the cause of disturbing you, in order to ask your leave that I may retain about me a son of whom you may be justly proud, and who bids fair to become the first artist of his time. My house shall be his home, and his salary you will yourself name.

“In return, I make you only one request; your son has probably already told you what. It is that you ask of me any appointment most suitable to your taste and habits. It is granted beforehand.”

“My son,” replied the agitated father, endeavouring to master his emotion, “will, I think, be paid beyond his deserts, if he receives five ducats monthly.”

“And for yourself, Sir?”

“For myself, Prince, I ask a trifling situation now vacant in the customs: it can only be given to a citizen of the State; I ask it, because it is a post I feel I can fill with honour.”

“You will never be rich, my dear Buonarotti,” laughingly replied the Medicis, “for, offered any situation you please, you content yourself with a little place in the customs.”

“Enough too—for the father of a mason!”

And thus was Michael Angelo de Buonarotti introduced to the patronage of the illustrious Medicis.

Sir Sidney Smith.

The above lines were written on the window of his prison by Sir Sidney Smith, the day of his escape from the Temple; the hand of the hero of Acre threw them on the Cairn.

Bees.

Of Bees.

It is easy to imagine why they are highly valued. They have always been very numerous in Palestine. Frequent mention is made in the sacred volume of “honey out of the rock.” The Scriptures also speak of honey as forming a part of the presents which it was usual to send to persons of distinction. Canaan is described as a land “flowing with milk and honey.” John the Baptist is said to have lived upon “locusts and wild honey,” and among the articles of food set before our Saviour, when, after his resurrection he ate with his disciples, was a piece of an “honeycomb.”

These combined circumstances have doubtless had their share in leading the uninstructed, in nearly all countries and times, to look upon the Bee with a feeling of superstitious reverence.

Mead, the produce of the Bee, was the favourite drink, the nectar of the ancient Britons; and their attachment to this extraordinary little insect ascended to a very remote period. According to their belief, the high origin of the Bee is from Paradise, and it was on account of man’s transgression they left it, and then God gave them a blessing. The priests therefore maintained that no Mass ought to be celebrated, except by the light of wax.

These extraordinary little insects make the tops and bottoms of their cells of three planes meeting in a point, and the inclinations or angles at which they meet, are precisely those found out by the mathematicians to be the best possible for saving wax and work. Who could dream the Bee was conversant with the highest branch of the mathematics, the fruit of Newton’s most wonderful labour, of the source of which he was himself ignorant; one of his most celebrated followers having found it out in a later age? This little insect works with a truth and correctness which are perfect, and according to the principles at which man has arrived only after ages of slow improvement in the most difficult branch of the most difficult science. But the mighty and all-wise Creator who made the insect and the philosopher, bestowing reason on the latter, and giving skill to the former to work without it, to Him all truths are known from all eternity with an intuition that mocks even the conceptions of the sagest of human kind.

Bayonets.

The word bayonet is derived from the circumstance of this weapon being first manufactured at Bayonne.

Hope.

Oliver Cromwell.

It is related by Pope, and also by Spencer in his Anecdotes, that on the night after the decollation of King Charles I. his body was placed in a room at Whitehall, and that the Earl of Southampton sat in the room to guard and manifest his respect to the royal corse. About midnight the door opened, and a person so muffled that he could not be known entered; who, after slowly walking to the coffin, looked at the corse some time, and having exclaimed “Cruel necessity!” as slowly retired. Lord Southampton imagined from the figure and voice, that it was Oliver Cromwell!

Supposing this to be the case, it were only consistent with the hypocrisy of his character, that he should assume the appearance of feeling, in order to impress people with a character for humanity.

It is remarked in Walpoliana as a singular fact, that the descendants of Charles I. and Oliver Cromwell intermarried in the fourth degree

By the marriage of my father, Sir Charles Shipley, connected with the “Bradshawes,” by the Rudyerds, and my mother the great granddaughter of the Duke of Monmouth, son of Charles II.

Sandwiches.

Origin of the term “Sandwich.”

To the memory of “Lord Sandwich” belongs the name of that edible. Being during his administration (as was very usual with him), at a gambling house, he had, in the fascination of play, for more than five and twenty hours forgotten fatigue and hunger, when suddenly, feeling disposed to break his fast, though still riveted to the table, he called to bid some one bring him any thing that was to be had to eat, which happened to prove a slice of beef, and two pieces of bread. Placing them together for the sake of expedition, he devoured them with the greatest relish. The most ecstatic encomiums published his discovery, and giving it his name, bequeathed it as a memento to his country, as one of the most important acts of his administration.

Catherine, Empress of Russia.

Catherine II.

During the splendid progress which the Empress Catherine II. made through her dominions, she was one day expressing her opinion of the various surmises her journey would create, and the different causes that would be assigned for it at the several courts of Europe; adding, “this Cabinet of Petersburgh, which is now floating down the Dneiper, must be considered of great importance, since it affords so much occupation to many others.” “Yes, Madam,” replied the Prince de Ligne, “and yet I don’t know one that is so small; for its whole dimensions are but a few inches, it extends but from one temple to the other, and from the root of the nose to that of the hair.”

The Milk Score.

Addison amused himself with inventing fourteen years of the Pretender’s reign. The fourth year has the following passage: “He ordered the Lord High Treasurer to pay off the debts of the crown, which had been contracted since his accession to the throne, particularly a milk score of three years’ standing.”

Duke of Monmouth.

Arguments in favour of the belief that the Duke of Monmouth was not executed, as declared, but suffered to escape; an individual who was under sentence of death having been induced to pass for this unfortunate prince.

Hume says, Après son exécution ses partisans conservaient l’espérance de le revoir à leur tête; ils se flattèrent que le prisonnier qu’on avait exécuté n’était pas le Duc de Monmouth, mais qu’un de ses amis, qui lui ressemblait beaucoup, avait eu le courage de mourir pour lui.

Sainte Foix, in a letter on the subject of the “Masque de Fer,” dated Amsterdam, 1768, says, “Il est certain que le bruit courut dans Londres qu’un officier de l’armée de Monmouth, qui lui ressemblait beaucoup, fait prisonnier et sûr d’être condamné au mort, avait reçu la proposition de passer pour lui avec autant de joie que si on lui avait accordé la vie, et que, sur ce bruit, une grande dame, ayant gagné ceux qui pouvaient ouvrir son cercueil, et lui ayant regardé le bras droit, s’écria, ‘Ah! ce n’est pas le Duc de Monmouth!’”

Enfin, Sainte-Foix, qui cherche à prouver que le Masque de Fer n’était autre que le Duc de Monmouth, cite un passage d’un ouvrage par Pyms, et dans lequel on dit, “Le Comte Danby envoya chercher le Colonel Skelton, qui avait eu ci-devant la Lieutenance de la Tour de Londres, et à qui le Prince d’Orange l’avait otée pour la donner au Lord Lucas. ‘Skelton,’ lui dit le Comte Danby, ‘hier au soir en soupant avec Robert Johnston, vous lui dites, que le Duc de Monmouth était vivant et enfermé dans quelque chateau en Angleterre.’ ‘Je n’ai point affirmé cela, puisque je n’en sais rien,’ dit Skelton, ‘mais j’ai dit, que, la nuit d’après la prétendue exécution du Duc de Monmouth, le Roi, accompagné de trois hommes, vint lui-même le tirer de la Tour, et que le Duc fut emmené par lui.”

Sainte-Foix cite encore une conversation du père Tournemine, et ajoute:

“La Duchesse de Portsmouth dit au père Tournemine et au Confesseur du Roi Jacques, qu’elle reprocherait toujours à la mémoire de ce Prince l’exécution du Duc de Monmouth après que Charles Second, à l’heure de la mort, et prêt à communier devant l’hostie, que Haldeston prêtre catholique avait secrètement apportée, avait fait promettre au Roi Jacques (alors Duc d’York), que quelque revolte, que quant au Duc de Monmouth, il ne le ferait jamais punir de mort. Aussi le Roi Jacques ne l’a-t-il pas fait mourir, repondit le père Sanders.”

Death.

Strange, that we can live so constantly with that threatening hand hung over us, and not think of it always! How difficult it is to realise death! how difficult to believe that the hand with whose every vein you are familiar will ever lose its motion and warmth! That the quick eye will settle and grow dull. It is at first hard to believe that we must die; harder still to believe the repulsive circumstances that follow this terrible change! It is a bitter thought, at the lightest. There is little comfort in knowing that the sense and the mind, that feel and measure suffering, will be gone. The separation of soul and body is too great a mystery to satisfy fear: it is the body that we know; it is this material frame in which the affections have grown up. The spirit is a thought, a presence, that we are told of, but do not see. The idea of existence is connected indissolubly with the visible body, and its pleasant and familiar scenes. We talk of, and rest our belief on the soul’s ascent to its Maker; but it is not ourselves, it is not our own conscious breathing identity, that we, in imagination, send up through the invisible air; we do not understand, we cannot realise the wondrous thought.

Origin of the Title of Earl.

During the government of the Anglo-Saxons Earldoms of counties were not merely dignities of honour, but officers of justice; each person having the charge and custody of the county of which he was Earl; and for their assistance in the discharge of this duty, they had also deputies, or vicecomes, as they were denominated, appointed, which office still continues to be executed by the Sheriffs annually chosen for the different counties of England and Wales. The Earls, in recompense for their travelling expenses, and other charges incidental to the affairs of this important office, had originally a salary derived from the profits of the third penny of the county[14] granted to them; and this custom continued for a long time after the conquest, and was formerly inserted as a princely benevolence in their patents of creation. These salaries were at a later period changed into pensions for the better support of their dignity, as appears by many ancient records. The word Earl, by the Saxons was called Erlig, or Ethling; by the Germans, Grave, as Landgrave, Margrave, &c. and by the Dutch, Eorle: but upon the conquest of England by William, Duke of Normandy, in 1066, and the subsequent settlement of the Normans in this country they were called Comes, or Comites, and for consequence in State affairs were usually styled Comes Illustres. Formerly Kings were addressed by the title of Your Grace. Henry VIII. was the first, says Houssaie, who assumed the title of Highness; and at length Majesty. It was Francis I. who began to give him this last title, in their interview in the year 1520.

Thought.

Il est des âmes que le malheur peut abattre, mais qu’il n’avilit jamais.

James II.

The Diary of James II. which from his earliest youth he had kept, he, at the time of his abdication, as one of his last acts, confided to the Count of Therese, by whose means the papers were sent to Italy; and afterwards found their way to the Scotch College at Paris. About the beginning of the French revolution, the original MSS. were sent to St. Amiens, secreted in a cellar, afterwards buried in a garden of a country house, and it is supposed were taken up and destroyed; but copies were previously taken and formed into a life of James II. which, with other papers termed the “Stuart Manuscripts,” were published.

Thought.

Heureux celui qui sait quitter l’état qui le quitte, et rester heureux en dépit du sort.

Thought.

La solitude est certainement une belle chose, mais il y a plaisir d’avoir quelqu’un à qui on puisse dire: La solitude est une belle chose.

Thought.

Peut-on se consoler de la perte d’un enfant! ce malheur, le plus poignant de tous, semble tellement opposé à la nature, que la douleur qu’il produit doit durer toujours.

Sea-fire.

The phenomenon called by sailors Sea-fire, is one of the most beautiful and interesting which is witnessed in the Hebrides. At times the ocean appears entirely illuminated around the vessel, and a long train of lambent corruscations are perpetually breaking upon her sides, or pursuing her wake through the darkness. These phosphoric appearances, concerning the origin of which naturalists are not agreed in opinion, seem to be called into action by the rapid motion of the ship, through the water being saturated with fish and spawn, and other animal substance.

Lisez et Croyez.

“Lisez et Croyez.” A Device on a Lady’s Seal.

"To a Lady.

A la même, en lui annoncant mon départ.

Trouba­dours.

The Troubadours were the ancient wandering poets, supposed to originate in Provence, and who composed and sung their own verses. The Trombe, or Trompe, was an instrument of the trumpet kind, from which it is believed the word “Trombadour,” or “Troubadour,” is derived; it being to this instrument they sung their poems. Several princes and nobles were among the number of these bards: Richard I. of England was of the former. The Italian poets are said to have borrowed their best pieces from the Troubadours; they flourished in Europe about two hundred and fifty years, from 1120 till the year 1382.

Thought.

Letter from Mde. Du Duffand.

Je ne vous parle point d’amis, car je sais combien cette denrée là est rare: mais je vous parle des connaissances agréables. Avec un bon soupé on a qui on veut: et si on le juge àpropos, on se moque encore après de ses convives.

Thought.

Etre avec les gens qu’on aime, cela suffit. Rêver, leur parler, ne leur parler point, penser à eux, penser à des choses indifférentes; mais auprès d’eux, tout est égal.

Pride and Humility.

On the marriage of Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk, with Mary the sister of King Henry VIII. and widow of Louis XII. of France, he appeared at the tournament given in honour of his bride, with an ingenious device, delicately alluding to the event which had brought him within the pale of royalty. To the trappings of his horse, which were one half of cloth of gold, and the other of cloth of freize, was appended the following motto.

Thought.

Les convalescences de l’âme sont comme celles du corps: on en sent bien mieux le prix que celui de la santé.

Thought.

Les louanges les plus flatteuses, et les plus énivrantes, sont celles que l’on reçoit unanimement devant l’objet qu’on aime.

Voltaire.

Those who proclaim Voltaire to be an atheist, only evince their ignorance of his real sentiments, and the beautiful principle by which he was influenced; his every act tended to acquit him of the charge of atheism. Besides, it never did, never can exist! Were it possible our lips could deny this truth, our hearts must witness to it; and however strongly the wretched atheist would assert the nonexistence of the power he denies, the very faculties, the reasoning, the subtle arguments which he employs, are these not so many attributes derived from a power, Almighty, though indefinite, Omnipresent, though invisible? The command of language, the superiority of talent he proudly displays, give the lie to his own system; whilst common sense declares beyond all doubt, the existence of that wonderful chain of creation, of which man is the first link, formed by a Divine intelligence, foreseeing and pre-ordaining all things. Alas! it must be admitted, that Voltaire denied the Divinity of our Saviour, although his virtues were those of a Christian; so often evinced in acts of the purest benevolence and philanthropy, rejecting all sectarian intolerance, affecting no uncharitable jargon. How to be regretted that such virtues were not guided and supported by belief!

Happy they who rely on the eternity of the soul, who believe as the loved fall, one after one, from their side, that they have returned to their native country, that they await the Divine reunion; who feel that each treasure of knowledge they attain, they carry with them through illimitable being; who see in virtue the essence of the element of that world they are to inhabit, and to which they but accustom themselves betimes; who comfort their weariness amidst the storms of time, by seeing far across the melancholy seas the haven they will reach at last; who deem that every struggle has its assured reward, and every sorrow its balm; who know, that however forsaken or bereaved below, they never can be alone, and never deserted; that above is the protection of Eternal power, and the mercy of Eternal love.

Antipathies.

The Princess de Lamballe fainted, if a nosegay of violets was in the room.

A celebrated Counsellor of Parliament at Douai, if he saw an apple not cut with a knife, but broken, would rise from table, and scarcely be able to totter to the door; whereas, the apple cut in the usual manner, he would have felt no ill effect.

The celebrated Lord Bolingbroke had an insurmountable horror of a cat: he frequently visited the Marechale de Mirepoix, and always waited in the anti-room till he was assured that all the cats, of which she possessed several of a famous Angora breed, had been turned out. These animals were so sociable, that they would sit on the large Loto table, and whenever a counter rolled near them, they would play with it with their paws in their usual graceful manner. I have often been fortunate enough, says M. de Levis, to be of their party without ever having to complain of them. One day, when the valet de chamber, after carefully searching every where, believed there could not be a cat in the apartment, Lord Bolingbroke came in, but immediately screamed and rushed back; the next day it was discovered that one of the cats had been accidentally shut up in a closet.

Anne of Austria.

Anne of Austria: a Sketch.

Anne Maurice was daughter of Philippe III. King of Spain, and of Margarette of Austria; she was born at Valladolid, on Saturday the 22nd of September, 1601; married to Louis XIII. King of France, called “the Just,” the 9th of November, 1615, and not till after twenty-three years became a mother, giving birth first to Louis XIV. and next to Philippe of France, Duke of Orléans, who married the Princess Henrietta of England, daughter of the unfortunate Charles I. and of Henrietta sister of Louis XIII. At the death of this monarch, his son being only nine years of age, he declared Anne of Austria Regent, and during the period of her administration, to that in which she surrendered the direction of his kingdom, at the majority of Louis XIV. she fully justified the election; her great strength of mind and justice of conduct never giving way, though intestine dissention and foreign wars rendered her task not a little arduous. More than once the Queen Regent abandoned her capital during the tumult of the parliamentary faction, supported by the Duke of Orléans,[15] the late King’s brother. The spirit of discontent gave the ministry of Cardinal Mazarin as its source, but it was long before the Queen would yield her predilection for, and support of this minister. His eventual exile restored peace at home, but it was not of long duration, and the Cardinal returned to negotiate the marriage of his sovereign with the Infanta of Spain, niece to the Queen Regent. This amiable Princess was not only chosen by Anne of Austria as the means of restoring peace between Spain and France, but also as interesting to her by the ties of maternal affection, being her brother’s daughter.

Till the death of Mazarin, Louis was little conspicuous in the administration of his government, and so much had he felt the evil consequence of the authority and patronage assumed by the Italian Cardinal, that he resolved to keep the reins in future wholly in his own hands. Mazarin had been brought forward by the minister Richelieu, and raised from obscurity; he died possessed of incalculable riches, after having made the fortunes of all his family.[16]

The anxious affection of the Queen for her sons, was marked to the last hour of her life; her watchful solicitude not only desired their temporal grandeur but their moral conduct and eternal salvation, to which her prayers were ever directed. She suffered much disquietude from the dissipation of Louis, and though wisely endeavouring to conceal or excuse his infidelities in the eyes of the Queen, she remonstrated with the King on several occasions with the zeal of a Christian, and the love of a parent; and though they failed of all the wished for effect, the affection and duty of the King steadily accompanied his mother to her grave. Her patience and fortitude, during a lingering and painful disease, could not be surpassed. She died of a cancer in the breast at sixty-five years of age; preserving, almost unimpaired, the beauty which had rendered her in youth the subject of universal admiration. Her attractions made her as naturally the object of calumny as of applause, for this is the tax they ever pay. That she had many lovers is beyond doubt, but whether she observed the rigid propriety of conduct asserted by Mde. de Motteville, or whether she was culpable of the indiscretions ascribed to her by less partial authors, it is at least certain that her virtues were great; and if she had faults, the neglect of her husband at the period when all Europe bent before her perfections, gives an undisputed apology. The cold and apathetic neglect of the gloomy Louis afforded encouragement to less lawful admiration; and of the number of her suitors none were more conspicuous than the accomplished English Duke of Buckingham. Mons. Regnault Warin does not scruple to make him the father, and Anne of Austria the mother, of the mysterious “Masque de Fer:” yet it is hardly credible to human feeling, that a mother’s tenderness could so far give way to state policy, as to sanction the long and cruel imprisonment of the being to whom she gave life but to be a curse. Yet this contradiction exists in the Memoires of the “Masque de Fer.”

The dislike of the Queen Marie de Médicis and of the minister De Richelieu of Anne of Austria (though some pens declare this crafty statesman to have been also the slave of her charms), greatly strengthened the indifference of the King towards his Queen: indeed, so much was it considered a miracle when the heir to the crown was born, that he was surnamed the “Gift of God.”[17] It was the King’s own act to nominate the Queen, Regent, after his death; and his confidence in her integrity and wisdom was fully justified by her exercise of this power. She was free from all spirit of revenge, never seeking it, even of her worst enemies; and this was greatly evinced in her consideration of the Queen Mary of Médicis, after she had incurred the displeasure of Louis XIII. as well as her kind reception of the persecuted Queen of England, when driven for refuge to the court of France. When Princess of France, Henrietta had been often by the influence of her mother, Mary de Médicis, guilty of acts of unkindness to her brother’s Queen; but this never appeared in the behaviour of the latter towards the Queen of England, whose sorrows she in every manner sought to alleviate, and furnished her with money to send to her captive husband, till the sad termination of his fate. The Duchess of Orléans was only a few days old when her royal brother fled from England; and brought up in the family of the French monarch, she was very dear to the Queen Mother, and chosen by her as the wife of her second son, afterwards Duke of Orléans.

The MSS.

Thought.

Let your courage be as keen, but at the same time as polished, as your sword.

The Nursing of Love—Hon. W. Spencer.

The Nursing of Love.

An Opera.

The first composer who tried his hand at setting an opera to music was Francisco Bamirino, an Italian artist; and the piece to which he lent the charm of a melodious accompaniment, was the “Conversion of St. Paul,” which was brought out at Rome in 1460.

Calumny or Detraction.

The strongest, brightest light will always offend a weak, vitiated sight; and the lowest vermin will prey upon the fairest fruit. Thus detraction comes from the envious, and the base, and low-minded.

Goût and Gout—Lord Erskine.

Goût and Gout.

Les Lazzaroni.

Les Lazzaroni de l’ancien tems.

Les Lazzaroni ont trop souvent été confondus avec la vile populace de Naples, race dégradée. On ignore s’ils descendent de l’une des colonies grecques, qui, dans des temps reculés, vinrent s’établir dans cette riche et belle contrée; ou s’ils appartiennent à une famille latine; ou s’ils sont les descendans de quelqu’une des races Germaniques, qui, sous le nom d’Hérules, Lombards, ou d’Ostrogoths, vinrent successivement y planter leurs tentes. On l’ignore; mais il est certain que les Lazzaroni forment une famille bien distincte de celles des autres habitans du royaume de Naples. Ces sont des hommes grands et forts, laborieux et sobres; leur union pourrait balancer la puissance du gouvernement, aussi respecte-il leur privilèges, et fait-il tous ses efforts pour se les attacher. Le Lazzarone aime cette terre où il vit, mais ne cherche pas à sortir de la classe dans laquelle il est né. Ils ont l’extérieur remarquable par la mâle beauté des formes. Un lien fraternel semble unir les Lazzaroni; ils ne subissent point les lois du Royaume quand elles paraissent contraires à leurs traditions, qu’ils savent faire respecter. Seuls ils sont libres sur cette terre d’esclaves, et ont le droit incontesté de s’assembler publiquement et en grand nombre, sans que le gouvernement songe à les troubler dans ces nobles manifestations de la dignité de l’homme. Le Capo-Lazzaroni est le chef suprême de toute la famille; il est élu par ses frères, et il exerce sur eux une autorité qui rappelle le tribunat des Romains. Si le Capo n’est point entouré des insignes de la royauté, au moins en a t-il une autorité réelle, et pas moins efficace. Le Capo est chargé de faire respecter les droits de sa caste. Il a une place réservée aux cérémonies où assiste la Cour, qui s’étudie surtout en public a lui montrer beaucoup d’égards. C’est le Capo qui a le droit de vérifier le sexe de l’enfant dont la Reine vient d’accoucher, et c’est lui qui le montre au peuple du haut du balcon royal.

Louis XVIII.

Although the perpetrator of the daring attempt was never discovered, it is well known that the late Louis XVIII. of France, narrowly escaped assassination whilst at Dettingen. The King was standing at the window of an hotel, when a pistol was fired at him, the ball of which lodged in the window frame. One of the persons standing near to the King, alarmed at his sovereign’s very narrow escape, exclaimed, “Oh, Sire! had the aim been one inch lower—” “Why then,” (interrupted the intrepid monarch, with the utmost presence of mind) “the King of France would have been styled Charles the Tenth.”

Directions to a Porter.

Directions to the Porter.

Title of Sforza.

Origin of the title of “Sforza.”

James Sforza, the father of Francis the first Duke, was the founder of the house of Sforza, which gave six Dukes to Milan, and was allied with almost every sovereign in Europe during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. He was born in 1369, at Catignuola, near Faenza; his father, according to tradition, was a day labourer, and to others, a shoemaker, but probably wrought as both. Perceiving some soldiers pass, he was struck with the desire of bearing arms. “I will go,” said he to himself, “and dart my hatchet against that tree, and if it stick fast in the wood I will immediately become a soldier.” The hatchet stuck fast, and because, says the Abbot of Choisi, he threw the axe with all his force, he assumed the supposed fortunate name of Sforza, as his real name was Giacomuzzo, or James Attendulo.

Duke of Calabria.

The Duke of Calabria, father of the unfortunate Joanna, Queen of Naples, was buried in the church of St. Claire, founded by his father in 1310. The sculpture of his monument is beautifully emblematical of his known protection of defenceless innocence: from a Conch shell at his feet, a lamb slakes its thirst, regardless of the fierce wolf drinking at the same fountain.

Love and Reason.

Clocks.

The first Clock seen in Europe was a present from Haroun Alraschid to Charlemagne; and in the fourteenth century, Dondi of Padua was raised to the peerage for making one of an improved construction. The title, “Marquis Dondi del Orologio,” descended to the eighteenth century, and probably still exists.

Tea and Coffee.

The Maréchale de Mirepoix was afflicted with a constant shaking of the head, and it was attributed to her use of tea, of which she took several cups daily; having accustomed herself to it in England, where her husband had been ambassador. At one time Tea and Coffee were considered as poisons, and it is stated, that in one of the northern countries they made trial of them three times a day on two criminals, whose lives were spared on condition of their undergoing this terrible ordeal. The result was, that the culprit who took the Tea lived to be seventy-nine, and the other, eighty.

French and English.

Compara­tive qualities in the characters of the French and English.

The French are beyond all manner of doubt the most good humoured people on the surface of the earth; if we understand at least, by the term good humour, those minor courtesies, those considerate kindnesses, those cursory attentions, which, though they cost little to the giver, are not the less valuable to the receiver; which soften the asperities of life, and by their frequent occurrence, and the constant necessity in which we stand of them have an aggregate, if not an individual importance. The English perhaps, as nationally possessing the more solid virtues, may be the best friends and the most generous benefactors; but a friendship in this more exalted acceptation of it is rare, and beneficence almost miraculous; it is a serious question with me, which is the most useful being in society—the light, good-humoured Frenchman, or the slow, meditating Englishman?

Scandal.

Thought.

Il faut qu’un Empereur meurt debout.

Thought.

Personal Beauty.

There is no blessing more utterly valueless when its first charm has passed over and faded from the imagination, than mere personal beauty; where there is no intellect, no heart, no sweetness of temper, no cheering gaiety of spirit, no genius, talent, nor precious moral worth to enclose and preserve it from wearying the sense, and palling the affection.

Daguerro­type.

A woman’s heart is the only true plate for a man’s likeness. An instant gives the impression, and an age of sorrow and change cannot efface it.

Thought.

It is well if we have thoughts to comfort us, for facts are miserable allies when imagination fights its battle with despair.

Thought.

There are no people so often in the wrong, as those who will not bear to be thought so.

Pyramids.

The greatest of the three, and chief of the world’s seven wonders, is west of Cairo. It takes up eight acres of ground, every square being 300 paces in length, and the square of the top consisting of three stones only, yet large enough for threescore people to stand upon; ascended by two hundred and fifty-five steps, each step above three feet high, and of a breadth proportionable. No stone so little throughout the whole as to be drawn by our carriages; yet were these hewn out of the Trojan mountains, far off in Arabia: a wonder how conveyed thither, and how so mounted a greater. Twenty years it was building; by three hundred three score and six thousand men continually wrought upon, who, only in radishes, garlick, and onions, are said to have consumed one thousand and eight hundred talents.

The Congress.

Sketch of our Saviour’s Person—Josephus.

A Sketch of our Saviour’s Person, drawn with a noble simplicity and candour by an Unbeliever.

It being the usual custom of the Roman Governors to advertize the senate and people of Rome of such things as happened in their respective provinces, in the days of Tiberius Cæsar, the emperor, Pub. Leontulus, President of Judea, wrote the following epistle to the senate, concerning our blessed Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ.

“There appeared in our days a man of great virtue, named Jesus Christ, who is yet living among us, and of the nation accepted for a Prophet of truth, but his disciples call him the Son of God!

“He raises the dead! and cureth all manner of diseases: a man of stature somewhat tall, and comely, with a very rev’rend countenance, such as the beholders may both love and fear.

“His hair of the colour of a chestnut full ripe, down to his ears, whence downwards it is more orient, curling and waving about his shoulders: in the midst of his head is a seam or partition of his hair, after the manner of the Nazarites: his forehead plain and very delicate, his face without spot or wrinkle, beautified with a lively red; his nose and mouth so formed as nothing can be reprehensible; his beard thickish, in colour like his hair, and not over long, but forked; his look innocent, but mature; his eyes gray, clear, and quick. In reproving he is terrible, in admonishing courteous and fair spoken, pleasant in conversation, mixed with gravity. It cannot be remembered that any have seen him laugh, but many have seen him weep. In proportion of body most excellent; his hands and arms delectable to behold. In speaking, very moderate, modest, and wise.

“A man, for his singular beauty, surpassing the children of men!”

Ennui.

Mrs. Frances Sheridan described “Ennui,” as a new name for a compound disease of the blood, the brain, and the heart, from which none but the idle and selfish ever suffered; and Mrs. Barbauld added, that in God’s universe men, in spite of the heaviest afflictions or the greatest bereavements, might always find objects worthy of their hearts, and occupations worthy of their minds.

Thought.

On an Infant.

English, French, and Germans.

It is remarked by T. P. Richter, one of the most celebrated German writers, that the empire of the sea belongs to the English, that of the earth to the French, and that of the air to the Germans. Madame de Stael says, “C’est l’imagination, plus que l’esprit, qui caracterise les Allemands.”

Hôtel à Paris “à vendre, ou à louer.”

Epigram.

Russian Anecdote.

Lieutenant Rileieff, an officer on half-pay, who had participated in the insurrection, had been sentenced, with four other persons, to be torn in quarters by horses; but fearing the effect of a punishment so horrid and so unusual on the public mind, the sentence was changed to hanging, and the execution took place on the 24th July. The widowed Madame de Rileieff, who had only been a wife a few months, on the night which followed the execution, obtained from the executioner (to whom she went and offered a considerable bribe) the body of her husband; and herself, laden with this dreadful but cherished burthen, hastened to an isolated house which she occupied, where, after bathing it with her tears, she herself prepared the mutilated remains for the grave, which she made with her own hands in a secluded spot of the garden, solemnly and carefully closing the earth over it. And on that spot, soon as the stars brightened the heavens, was this poor mourner to be seen, like a phantom, clothed in deepest mourning, kneeling on the grave till morning. One winter’s night she came as usual, and knelt in prayer. The snow fell fast, and hung on her widowed garment: little by little her enfeebled frame yielded to the blast, and she fell insensible on the earth. When day dawned, she was at peace: she lay dead on her husband’s grave.

Russian Anecdote.

During the march of the exiles from the splendid city of St. Petersburg to their dreary destination, a dreadful occurrence took place whilst crossing the forest of Yirna, during a halt in the night. The military commandant of the escort had ordered that Albaniski, one of the exiles, who had been guilty of some disregard of discipline, should be lashed to a tree, about a hundred steps distant from the camp. The night was far advanced, and the wretched culprit had appeared to resign himself to his fate, when dreadful and repeated cries were heard through the dense forest, awfully disturbing the silence of night: the screams increasing, the sentinels on duty awoke their officer, but soon all was again silent. Horrid to relate, on directing their search whence the sounds had proceeded, they found Albaniski bathed in blood, and nearly devoured by wolves. There were nearly a hundred of these ravenous beasts collected about the poor expiring man, and it was with difficulty that they were separated from the mangled limbs of their prey.

Hospitality of the remote ages.

The hospitality of England was so great in the remote ages, that a chieftain even blushed to close his door: he flew to meet a stranger of any rank, presented him with water to wash, and took from him his arms, this being the signification that he would pass the night under his roof, which was considered as a mark of respect and honour.

Turkish Anecdote.

When Morusi, the Interpreter of the Ottoman Porte, was ordered to be beheaded, the Sultan Mahmoud, being desirous of seeing his blood flow, expressly forbade the executioner letting the axe fall till he perceived a certain blind of the harem drawn up; and he had the cruelty to allow the wretched Morusi to wait a whole hour in this dreadful situation before he gave the appointed signal. Buonaparte repeated this anecdote as an “affaire de jalousie.”

Thought.

He who thinks no man above him but for his virtue, none below him but for his vice, can never be obsequious or assuming in a wrong place; but will frequently emulate men in rank below him, and pity those who are above him.

Anti-Moine, or Antimony.

The origin of the use of Anti-moine, or Antimony, is a remarkable circumstance. Basil Valentin, Superior of a College of Religionists, having observed that this mineral fattened the pigs, imagined that it would produce the same effect on the holy brotherhood. But the case was seriously different; the unfortunate fathers, who greedily made use of it, died in a short time, and this is the origin of its name, according to the pure French word. In spite of this unfortunate beginning, Paracelsus resolved to bring this mineral into practice; and by mixing it with other preparations make it useful. The Faculty at Paris were on this occasion divided into two parties, the one maintained that Antimony was a poison; the other affirmed that it was an excellent remedy. The dispute became more general, and the Parliament and the College of the Sorbonne interfered in the matter; but some time afterwards people began to judge rightly concerning this excellent mineral; and its wonderful and salutary effects have occasioned the Faculty to place it among their best medicines.

Extract from Dr. Johnson’s Corres­pondence.

I have three letters this day all about the balloon; I could have been content with one. Do not write about the balloon, whatever else you may think proper to say.

Earl of Buchan.

In the reign of Charles VII. of France, John, Earl of Buchan, was made Constable of France, in acknowledgment of the bravery displayed by him at the battle of Beaugé, in Anjou, when the Duke of Clarence, of England, was killed by his hand.

The State of Man.

Parfilage.

In the reign of Louis XV. this curious employment had become paramount over all other female avocations of fancy work. It consisted in separating the bullion from the silk of gold lace, fringe, frogs, hat loops, or sword knots, for the purpose of selling it to the Jews at half the price of new; and it was quite ordinary to hear ladies begging and bespeaking the spoiled finery of their male acquaintance, to furnish material for their dexterous industry. These contributions were termed galons. The shopkeepers, taking advantage of the folly, invented a number of ingenious and expensive toys, composed of galons. Sheep, dogs, squirrels, cradles, carriages in miniature, &c. were offered, admired, and then pulled to pieces for “parfilage.”[18] It afforded good opportunity for innumerable gallantries. A gentleman went to a masked ball in a costume purposely composed of cloth of gold and bullion, worth two hundred pounds, which he sent next day to a lady.

Taste.

Les Riens.

A Cottage in Scot­land.

“God bless you; and may the field of battle never leave your heart sair!” It is scarcely possible to imagine a more natural and appropriate address from a soldier’s wife to a soldier’s wife. This, was the spontaneous effusion of grateful feeling, excited by some little service which I had been the means of rendering to a soldier of my husband’s regiment, for which his wife came to thank me. It is one of the many instances which I have met of that species of Ossianic expression (if I may be allowed the term) which distinguishes the lower orders of the Scotch and Irish. I remember an occurrence in the life of an unfortunate friend of mine, which not only proves how capable this class of people are of deep and refined sentiment, but also of a strength and pathos of language which loses nothing from the simplicity of its guise. The lady to whom I allude, had, under circumstances of very peculiar misfortune, in which reason, nearly shaken from its seat, had deprived her of all sense save that of misery, been admitted to the shelter of a cottage by the road side, in the neighbourhood of D——, whose honest inhabitants hastened to afford her the only comforts their power admitted; their own bed, the warmth of their peat fire, and a share of their humble meal. They sought with kind solicitude, unmixed with obtrusive curiosity, to learn the causes which led to the sorrow they witnessed, but finding every effort vain, they checked their inquiries. “Puir thing! her heart’s crushed, and her spirit broken,” said the gudewife, whilst she placed the poor wanderer’s head upon her homely pillow, and then seated herself with her old man by their turf fire and unclosed the Bible, which with the Poems of Robert Burns constituted their library.

The activity of friendship soon traced the fugitive, but no arguments could induce those benevolent beings to accept remuneration in any form: nearly twelve months elapsed, when, journeying south, their former inmate sought the spot to which the “memory of the heart” furnished the clue. The gudewife, with looks of surprise, surveyed the handsome equipage from whence the inquiry for herself and husband was addressed, nor could she recognise, even in the still faded form before her, the distracted tenant of her lonely hut: on being joined by the old man, mutual explanations took place, and by dint of many arguments, the little offerings that had been brought for them were accepted by these good Samaritans, as “kip sakes from the leddy, and nae for payment of what it was sae natural to do for a puir suffering fellow creter.”

Linnæus.

Charles Linnæus was born at Smolande in 1707, and died at Upsal in 1778. The most celebrated botanist of the eighteenth century. His eminent talents introduced him to the notice of his sovereign, Gustavus III. who relieved him from poverty and embarrassment, and protected him till his death. Linnæus presided over the gardens of the University of Upsal for forty years, where a magnificent monument is erected to his memory.

Hortensia, or Hyd­ranger.

The Hortensia, so called by Commerson in compliment to Hortense le Pante, is one of the handsomest, as well as most lasting plant. Passing by different shades from white to green, till it becomes the fine bright lilac which takes its name; to this again succeeds the white and green tints. This beautiful plant is originally from China and Japan. Its Botanical name is Hortensia mutabilis, from the variety of its colours.

Filial Affection.

Vestige of ancient Saxon Dialect.

Among many vestiges of the ancient Saxon dialect and idiom, we reckon a small space of time by the night, as did the Saxons. Sen’night, or seven nights hence; fortnight, or fourteen nights hence, are both of Saxon origin, and both are used in modern calculation of time.

The Torpedo.

The Torpedo is found in the British Seas, particularly at Torbay, near Waterford, on the coast of Ireland. This extraordinary fish likes to bury itself lightly in the sand, in which situation the Torpedo gives its most forcible shock, and throws down the astonished passenger who inadvertently treads upon it. On touching the fish with the fingers, it sometimes happens that the person feels an unusual painful numbness, which suddenly seizes the arm up to the elbow, and sometimes to the very shoulder and head. The pain is almost indescribable, and bears some resemblance to the sensation felt in the arm on striking the elbow violently against a hard body. It is even affirmed that it will benumb the astonished fisherman through the whole length of the line and rod.

The Torpedo is so far amphibious as to live in air twenty-four hours, and but little longer in water.

Thought.

Silence is not very culpable, when nothing pleasing is suppressed.

Wait and Hope.

Il ne faut que savoir attendre, dans cette vie: sous la neige il y a de la verdure, et derrière le plus épais nuage le ciel est bleu.

Mother and Child.

The tie which links mother and child is of such pure and immaculate strength, as to be never violated, except by those whose feelings are withered by the refining of vitiated society. Holy, simple, and beautiful in its construction, is the emblem of all we can imagine of fidelity and truth, is the blessed tie whose value we feel in the cradle, and whose loss we lament on the verge of the very grave, where our mother moulders in dust and ashes. In all our trials, amid all our afflictions, she is our friend: let the world forsake us, she is still by our side; if we sin, she reproves more in sorrow than in anger, nor can she tear us from her bosom, nor forget we are her child.

Louis XVIII.

“There is no etiquette requisite when we talk to our friends:” such was the kind encouragement given to me by the benevolent Louis XVIII. of France, when I expressed my apprehension that the deep interest of the subject on which he permitted me to address him, might so engross my feelings as to render me, (in appearance,) unmindful of the respectful deference due to his exalted station; and with truth did the monarch honour me by designating himself as a friend. At his death I had not to regret only the loss of a sovereign whose condescending kindness admitted the petitioner to his presence, but also those lengthened conversations in which were displayed the brilliant emanations of his highly cultivated mind, and the fruits of deep classical research: or did I only lament the deprivation of his royal bounties. I wept for the loss of the beneficent being, whose heart had expanded in sympathy to the sorrows of a widowed mother, whose gracious recollections honoured a father’s grave, and to whom in the hour of trial I never appealed in vain. Would that my words could do justice to the devoted veneration my heart bears him! Wit and eloquence were his to a supreme degree. None ever possessed to a greater extent the talent of saying that which was appropriate, kind, or conciliating. In his language he reminded me of the fairy tale, which describes pearls, diamonds, and precious stones as falling from the lips of the speaker.

Educa­tion.

Dr. John­son on the loss of his Mother.

In alluding to the death of his mother, Dr. Johnson observes that, notwithstanding the warnings of philosophers, and the daily experience of losses and misfortunes which life forces upon our observation, such is the business of the present day, such the resignation of our reason to empty hopes of future felicity, or such our unwillingness to foresee what we dread, that every calamity comes suddenly upon us, and not only presses as a burthen, but crushes as a blow.

Recollec­tions in the Cathedral at Malines or “Mech­lin” in Belgium.

On this anniversary of the day on which my loved little one closed his short earthly career, called by the will of our Creator to early beatitude, I saw in the cathedral at Malines a beautiful sculptured monument; the subject, I conclude, adopted by some afflicted mother from the passage in Holy Writ which I, in my own sorrow, had engraven on my child’s tomb:

“Suffer little children to come to me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

On the monument I have referred to, an angel presents to Jesus Christ a little boy, of age and size resembling dear C——; his hands are clasped, and raised as in entreaty; and the sculptor has given to the features of our Saviour all the gentle benignity of his character, while he extends his hands to the infant claimant of heaven, and seems to say, “Come to my bosom, there to be cradled till I replace you in your mother’s arms.”

`A Madame Warner

A Madame Warner née Shipley, 1817.

To change the colour of a Rose.

Place a fresh gathered rose in water as far as the stem will allow, then powder it over with fine rappee snuff, being careful not to load it too much—in about three hours, on shaking off the snuff, it will have become a green rose.

Whole­some Truth.

It is wonderful how soon and how completely a finely organized mind adapts itself to inevitable circumstances of reverse, which would lead a blunted intellect to despair: the rough blasts of suffering are requisite to clear away the romantic haze through which the world is viewed; nothing renders us so independent in mind, as to have been ruined in fortune. We then learn the feeble hold we have on the mere sympathies of feeling of our kind, and that much which has appeared to spring from such causes, in fact has only been the result of mutual interests.

Sir Sidney Smith.

I cannot admit the belief, that the Laurel is a protection against thunder, for my gallant friend Sir Sidney Smith once related to me, that his life had been endangered during a thunder storm.

Lines by Maucroix.

Written at the age of Eighty by Maucroix. A. D. 1629.

The Prisoner of St. Helena.

It is well known that to one of our most honoured countrymen, and most distinguished naval commanders was for a short period given the arduous and difficult charge of the prisoner of St. Helena, and that he was designated by Napoleon as “l’homme à la marche droite.” Too often in other instances chafed and irritated by the method of his imprisonment, the ex-emperor did full justice to the gentlemanlike bearing of the officer, who, though equally strict in the faithful discharge of a painful duty, never forgot the courtesy and consideration due to misfortune.

Children’s Shoes.

It has been often observed that nothing brings a little child to our recollection in a more affecting manner than the sight of its little shoes. Victor Hugo eloquently represents this fact, in his Notre Dame de Paris.

Brantome.

Brantome dit que du tems de François premier, une jeune personne ayant un amant babillard, lui imposa silence absolu et illimité, qu’il garda si fidelement deux ans entiers qu’on le crut devenu muet par maladie. Un jour en pleine assemblée sa maitresse se vanta de le guérir sur le champ, et le fit avec ce seul mot: Parlez!

Hopeless­ness.

I was once hopeful, but hope has gone out at last. It is perhaps better that it should be so: the first step towards bearing our fate becomingly, is to know it fully; and my mind must be made up to endure what it cannot prevent: after many a cruel struggle, mind may so far gain the mastery that no outward sign of the wounded heart, no token of the bruised spirit, shall be visible. Many learn at last to conceal the pangs they cannot stifle.

The Coffee Tree.

The Coffee Tree was originally introduced from Arabia, brought from the Isle of France, to the Botanical Garden in Paris, a plant was sent from thence to Martinique; and in proof of the great estimation in which the acquisition was held, Mr. Desdieux, who had taken the charge of it, gave up his allowance of water to be employed for the plants, when the passengers in the ship were reduced to a ration, on account of a lengthened voyage.

A Portrait.

Even now, at three score years, that which forms the basis, or constitutes the soul of all true beauty was but little abated in her countenance; dignified graciousness of aspect, added to a gentle and lovely deportment.

A Key to the Thoughts.

En marchant les gens qui pensent au passé regardent la terre, les gens qui pensent à l’avenir regardent au ciel, les gens qui pensent au présent regardent devant eux, les gens qui regardent du coté et d’autre ne pensent à rien.

Thought.

Cato, as his aphorisms inform us, never repented but of two things, and the one was that he went a journey by sea when he might have gone by land.

Thought.

In the reign of Henry VIII. coals were only allowed for the King, Queen, and Lady Mary’s chambers.

Thought.

Le travail du corps délivre des peines de l’esprit, et c’est ce qui rend les pauvres heureux.

Old China.

Lady Wortley Montague says, she cannot forgive the disrespect of old china, which is below nobody’s taste.

The indul­gence of Providence.

Dieu est un grand reviseur de procès: nous ne voyons que les faits, mais Dieu voit les causes.

Les Assassins.

Entre Antioche et la ville de Tripoli, à l’orient de Tortose, il y a une plaine, dont l’étendue est de six milles de largeur, et de douze milles de longueur. Elle est terminée par des groupes de petites montagnes. Ces montagnes étaient habitées autrefois par un peuple qui se donnait le nom d’Arsacides, prétendant être descendus du fameux Arsace, fondateur de l’empire des Parthes, àpres la mort d’Alexandre. Ce peuple sorti, vers le septième siècle, des confins de Perse, vers Babylone vint former un petit état dans un coin de la Phénicie.—Ils s’y batirent des forteresses sur des rochers inaccessibles, d’où ils se rendaient redoutables à tous leurs voisins. Leurs brigandages et leurs assassinats leur firent donner le nom de Buveurs de Sang, qu’on changea bientôt en celui d’Assassin, à cause de leur arme favorite, le poignard, qu’on appelle en Persan Hassisan. Les Assassins élisaient eux-mêmes leur chef; il se nommait le Vieux de la Montagne, nom fameux dans les histoires de ce temps-là. Il portait ce nom, soit parceque le choix qu’on en faisait tombait toujours sur un des plus anciens de la nation, soit parcequ’il habitait un chateau nommé Almeet, ou Alameet, situé sur une haute montagne inattaquable. Nos vieux historiens ont mal entendu l’Arabe: Scheik signifie le plus vieux, senior; mais il signifie aussi Seigneur. Il n’est pas vrai que les Assassins choissient pour Prince le plus ancien de la nation, il fallait donc traduire le Seigneur de la Montagne. Son empire sur ses sujets était si absolu, que fallait il commettre les actions les plus noires, ils étaient toujours prêts à les exécuter au premier signal qu’on leur faisait, et au péril de leur propre vie. On les accuse de l’assassinat de Louis de Bavière, en 1231, et d’avoir osé attenter à la vie de Saint Louis. Il parait étonnant qu’une si monstreuse tribu ait pu se maintenir pendant près de quatre cents ans: ce ne fut qu’en 1257 que les Tartares, sous leur roi Allan, ou Haloan, pour délivrer leur pays de si dangereux voisins entreprirent de massacrer leur chef et de les détruire; ce qu’ils exécutèrent.