Part 132
To the stork are ascribed the virtues of temperance, conjugal fidelity, and filial and paternal piety. There is a history, famous in Holland, of “the Delft stork;” which, in the conflagration of that city, after having in vain attempted to rescue her young, perished with them in the flames. It is certain, that the stork bestows much time on the education of its young, and does not leave them till they have strength sufficient for their defence and support; when they begin to flutter out of the nest, the mother bears them on her wings, protects them from danger, and sometimes perishes with them rather than she will forsake them. The stork shows tokens of attachment to its old haunts, and even gratitude to the persons who have treated it with kindness. It has been heard to rap at the door in passing, as if to tell its arrival, and give a like sign of adieu on its departure. But these moral qualities are nothing in comparison of the affection and tender offices which these birds lavish on their aged and infirm parents. The young and vigorous storks frequently carry food to others, which, resting on the brink of the nest, seem languid and exhausted, either from accidental injuries or the infirmities of years.
The ancients assert, that nature has implanted in brutes this venerable piety, as an example to man, in whose breast the delicious sentiment is often obliterated. The law which compelled the maintenance of parents was enacted in honour of the stork, and inscribed by its name. Aristophanes draws from its conduct a bitter satire on the human race.
Ælian alleges, that the moral qualities of the stork were the chief cause of the respect and veneration which it enjoyed among the Egyptians; and the notion which the common people among whom it resorts still entertain, that its settling on a house betokens prosperity, is perhaps a vestige of the ancient opinion.
An ancient writer affirms, that the storks, worn out with old age, repair to certain islands in the ocean, where, in reward for their piety, they are changed into men. In auguries, the appearance of the stork denoted union and concord. Its departure in the time of public calamity was regarded as a dismal presage; Paul, the deacon, says, that Attila, having purposed to raise the siege of Aquileia, was determined to renew his operations, upon seeing storks retiring from the city and leading away their young. In hieroglyphics it signified piety and beneficence, virtues which its name expressed in the most ancient languages; and we often see the emblem, as on the two beautiful medals of L. Antonius, given in Fulvius Ursinus, and in two others of Q. Metellus, surnamed “the Pious,” as reported by Paterculus. Dr. Shaw says, that the Mahometans have a great esteem and veneration for it. It is almost as sacred among them as the ibis was among the Egyptians; and they would look upon a person as profane, who should kill or even harm it. So precious were storks held in Thessaly, which country they cleared of serpents, that the slayer of one of these birds was punished with death. They were not eaten among the Romans; and a person who, from a strange sort of luxury, ordered one to be brought to his table, drew upon himself the direful obloquy of the whole people. Nor is the flesh of this bird recommended by its quality--formed by nature for our friend, and almost our domestic, it was never destined to be our victim.[426]
[423] _Boer_ in the low countries, and _Bauer_ in Germany, signifies a farmer.
[424] Quæque salutato crepitat concordia nido. _Juvenal_, Sat. I.
Glotterat immenso de turre ciconia rostro. _Aut. Philomel._
[425] Publius Syrus had made the same application of his word.
[426] Buffon.
* * * * *
VARIA.
_For the Table Book._
NEWSPAPER READERS.
Shenstone, the poet, divides the readers of a newspaper into seven classes. He says--
1. The illnatured look at the list of bankrupts.
2. The poor to the price of bread.
3. The stockjobber to the lies of the day.
4. The old maid to marriages.
5. The prodigal to the deaths.
6. The monopolizers to the hopes of a wet and bad harvest.
7. The boarding-school and all other young misses, to all matters relative to Gretna Green.
FIRES IN LONDON.
From the registry of fires for one year, commencing Michaelmas 1805, it appears, that there were 366 alarms of fire, attended with little damage; 31 serious fires, and 155 alarms occasioned by chimneys being on fire, amounting in all to 552 accidents of this nature. The offices calculate on an alarm of fire every day, and about eight serious fires in every quarter of the year.
HENRY VIII. AND HIS PEERS.
When we advert to early parts of the history of this country, we cannot but be thankful to heaven for the progress of just principles, and the security we derive from the laws. In the reign of Henry VIII. that monarch wanted to carry some measure through the house of lords, contrary to its wishes. The peers hesitated in the morning, but consented in the afternoon. Some of their body waited on him to inform him thereof, when the tyrant made reply, “It is well you did it, or by this time half your heads would have been upon Temple Bar.”
FEMALE SHERIFFS AND JUSTICES.
Nicholas, earl of Thanet, was succeeded by his next brother John, the fourth earl, born 7th August, 1638. He also succeeded his mother Margaret, countess of Thanet, as baron Clifford, Westmoreland, and Vescey, who by her last will, dated June 19, 1676, gave the Yorkshire and Westmoreland estates to this John for life; she died the 14th August following, and he then succeeded her in the sheriffdoms of Westmoreland and Cumberland, where it frequently happened that female heiresses became possessed of them.
There are several instances of women bearing that office, as may be seen in most of the treatises in which that duty is mentioned. Those things required by it, not proper to be undertaken by a female, were intrusted to a deputy, or shire clerk.
Not only the office of sheriff, but even justice of peace, has been in the hands of the fair sex. Among the Harleian manuscripts is a very remarkable note, taken from Mr. Attorney-general Noy’s readings in Lincoln’s-inn, in 1632, in which, upon the point whether the office of a justice of a forest might be executed by a woman, it was said, that Margaret, countess of Richmond, mother to Henry VII., was a justice of peace; that the lady Bartlet was made a justice of peace by queen Mary in Gloucestershire; and that in Sussex, one Rouse, a woman, did usually sit upon the bench at assizes and sessions among the other justices, _gladio-cincta_, girded with a sword. It is equally certain, that Anne, countess of Pembroke, exercised the office of hereditary sheriff of Westmoreland, and at the assizes of Appleby sat with the judges on the bench, which puts this point beyond a question.
SAM SAM’S SON
* * * * *
WOMEN.
It is the opinion of Mr. J. P. Andrews, that antiquarians are by no means apt to pay great attention to the fair sex. He says,
“Their Venus must be old, and want a nose.”
He instances, as among those who have “set themselves most warmly” against females, old Antony à Wood, whose diary affords some specimens of grotesque dislike.
Page 167. “He” (sir Thomas Clayton) “and his family, most of them _womankind_, (which before were looked upon, if resident in the college, a scandal and abomination thereunto,) being no sooner settled,” &c. than “the warden’s garden must be altered, new trees planted, &c. All which, though unnecessary, yet the poor college must pay for them, and all this to please a woman!”
P. 168. “Frivolous expenses to pleasure his proud lady.”
P. 173. “Yet the warden, by the motion of his lady, did put the college to unnecessary charges and very frivolous expenses. Among which were a very large looking-glass, for her to see her ugly face and body to the middle, and perhaps lower.”
P. 252. “Cold entertainment, cold reception, cold, clownish woman.”
P. 257. “Dr. Bathurst took his place of vice-chancellor, a man of good parts, and able to do good things, but he has a wife that scorns that he should be in print. A scornful woman! Scorns that he was dean of Wells! No need of marrying such a woman, who is so conceited that she thinks herself fit to govern a college or a university.”
P. 270. “Charles lord Herbert, eldest son of Henry, marquis of Worcester, was matriculated as a member of Ch. Ch. Ætat 16. natus Lond. I set this down here, because the father and ancestors were all catholics, but because the mother is a presbyterian, a Capel, she (against the father’s will, as it is said) will have him bred a protestant; so that by this change the catholics will lose the considerablest family in England, and the richest subject the king has.”
Selden, too, is cited as an antiquarian inattentive to gallantry.
“It is reason,” says he, “a man that will have a wife should be at the charge of her trinkets, and pay all the scores she sets on him. He that will keep a monkey it is fit he should pay for the glasses he breaks.”
But ladies can, if they please, retaliate severely. A gentleman who had married a second wife, indulged himself in recurring too often in conversation to the beauty and virtues of his first consort. He had, however, barely discernment enough to discover that the subject was not an agreeable one to his present lady. “Excuse me, madam,” said he, “I cannot help expressing my regrets for the dear deceased.” “Upon my honour,” said the lady, “I can most heartily affirm that I am as sincere a mourner for her as you can be.”
* * * * *
DOWER.
There was an absolute necessity for providing a dower for the widow in the thirteenth century, because women at that period had no personal fortune to entitle them to a jointure by way of marriage. Shiernhook, and all the writers upon the ancient laws of the northern nations, dwell much upon the _morgengavium_; i. e. the present made by the husband to his wife the morning after consummation. It is singular, therefore, that we have no traces of such a custom. In the Philippine islands, a certain proportion of the dower is paid to the intended wife after liberty of conversing with her; a greater share for the permission of eating with her; and the balance upon consummation.[427]
[427] Gemelli, vol. v. Napoli, 1708.
* * * * *
SANS CHANGER.
_For the Table Book._
The maiden, with a vivid eye, Whose breath is measured by her sigh; The maiden, with a lovely cheek, Whose blushes in their virtue break; Whose pulse and breath would die unblest If not by changeless Love carest;-- ’Tis she that gives her partner’s life The perfect and the happy wife _Sans changer_.
If choice be true, she proves a friend Whose friendship fails not to the end; She sweetens dear affection’s power That lasteth to life’s parting hour: Her heart beats that her love might go Through every pang her Love’s could know, And yields its latest throb, to give Truth to that heart she loves, to live _Sans changer_.
----.
* * * * *
CASUALTIES OF THE ANCIENTS.
_To the Editor._
Your having, sir, inserted certain “Antipathies” which I communicated to your work, encourages me to hope you will find some “Casualties” not unacceptable.
Anacreon, according to Pliny and Valerius Maximus, was choked with the kernel of a raisin, and Tarquinius Priscus with a fishbone; the senator Fabius with a hair; and the very sight of a physician in a dream, frighted Andragorus out of his life. Homer, Rutilius, Rusciacus, and Pomperanus were overwhelmed with grief. Zeuxis and Philemon died with laughing; the one at the picture of an old woman which himself had drawn, the other at an ass eating of figs. Polycryta,[428] Philippides, and Diagorus were carried away with a sudden joy; and the tyrant Dionysius and Sophocles by excessive triumph at the news of a victory. The bald head of Æschylus cost him dearly; for an eagle hovering over it mistook it for a stone, and thinking to break an oyster upon it, gave him a mortal wound.[429] Archimedes was killed by a soldier, as he was making diagrams in the sand; and Pindar, in the theatre, by his repose as he lay on the knees of his dear Theoxenus.[430]
Like the people in Pliny, we pay tribute for a shadow. Every age, condition, and family has its peculiar evils. Cares and sorrows intermingle with our possessions and gratifications. We taste myrrh in our wine; and while we crop rosebuds to crown our heads, we prick our fingers. We do not so properly enjoy our pleasures, as suffer them.
“The portion of man is like that of a rose, which at first is fair as the morning, when it newly springs from the clefts of its hood, and full with the dew of heaven as the fleece of a lamb; but when a ruder breath has forced open its virgin modesty, and dismantled its retirements, it begins to decline to the symptoms of a sickly age; it bows the head and breaks the stalk, and at night having lost some of its leaves, and all its beauty, falls into the lap of noisome weeds.”[431]
ΠΡΙ
[428] Agellius, lib. iii. cap. 15.
[429] Suidas, Aristoph. in Ranis, lib. x. cap. 3. et Max. ibid.
[430] Θεοξενου γονατα, Suidas.
[431] Bishop Taylor
* * * * *
THE HOUR OF PRIME.
* * * * *
Mira d’intorno, Silvio, Quanto il mondo ha di vago, e di gentile, Opra e d’amore: * * * * * * Amante e il cielo, Amante La terra, Amante il mare. Al fine, Ama ogni cosa.
_Pastor Fido._
* * * * *
Ask why the violet perfume throws O’er all the ambient air; Ask why so sweet the summer rose, Ask why the lily’s fair.
If these, in words, could answer frame, Or characters could trace, They’d say, the frolic zephyrs came And courted our embrace.
And we (unskill’d in that false lore That teaches how to feign, While days and years fly swiftly o’er, And ne’er return again,)
A prompt obedience ready paid To Nature’s kind command, And meeting Zephyr in the glade, We took his proffer’d hand.
And loving thus, we led along In jocund mirth the hours; The bee bestow’d her ceaseless song, The clouds refreshing show’rs.
From out the Iris’ radiant bow In gayest hues we drest, And all our joy is, that we know We have been truly blest.
Believe not in the sombre lay Of one[432] who lov’d grief’s theme, That “_have been blest_” is “title gay” “Of misery’s extreme.”
Discard so woe-begone a muse In melancholy drown’d, And list’ a mightier bard[433] who strews His laughing truths around.
“The rose distill’d is happier far Than that which, with’ring on the thorn, Lives, grows, and dies a prey to care In single blessedness forlorn.”
Mark then the lesson, O ye fair! The pretty flow’rets teach, The truths they tell more precious are Than coquetry can reach.
Or all cold prudence e’er design’d To cloud affection’s beams, To cross with doubts the youthful mind, Or cheat it with fond dreams.
Leave then at once all fond delay, Nor lose the hour of prime, For nought can call back yesterda Nor stop the hand of time.
And youth and beauty both have wings, No art can make them stay, While wisdom soft, but ceaseless sings, “Enjoy them while you may.”
E. E.
[432] Dr. Young.
[433] Shakspeare.
* * * * *
_For the Table Book._
THE SOLDIER’S RETURN.
A FRAGMENT.
The sound of trumpet, drum and fife Are fit for younger men, He seeks the calm retreat of life, His Mary and his glen.
----Many days and nights the wounded soldier travelled with his knapsack and stick to reach his native place, and find solace in the bosom of his relatives. The season merged into the solstice of winter, the roads were bad, his feet were tender, and his means were scanty. Few persons in years could have borne the fatigue and hardships he endured; but if he could find his wished-for Mary, he trusted all would be well--his spirit could not break while the hope of his earliest attachment survived. He had fought hard in the conflict of the battle-field--the conflict of love had not smoothed his “wrinkled front.” He trudged onward, and persevered till he reached the cottage of his nativity. It was humble but neat. He drew the latch, crossed the threshhold, and entered the domicile. An elderly female was lying on a bed. Her niece sat by the bedside reading to her. The maiden rose, and, putting the book aside, questioned his name and business. He threw down his knapsack; he caught the countenance, though faded from its youth, like his, of his dear, bedridden Mary, and, clasping his hands with hers, sat many hours reciting his history, and listening in tears to her afflictions, occasioned by his roving disposition. He now, to make reparation, seasoned her hopes by promises of final rest with her till their suns should set together in the sphere of earthly repose; for Mary was the only person living of all his once numerous companions in the Glen--
----.
Vol. II.--46.
This singular being, who in every thing, but his extraordinary powers of memory and calculation, is almost idiotic, was born at Buxted, in Sussex, in 1785, and has followed the occupation of a labourer. He is ignorant in the extreme, and uneducated, not being able to read or write; and yet he can, with facility, perform some of the most difficult calculations in arithmetic. The most extraordinary circumstance, however, is the power he possesses of recollecting the events of every day, from an early period of his life. Upon being asked, what day of the week a given day of the month occurred? he immediately names it, and also mentions where he was, and what was the state of the weather. A gentleman who had kept a diary, put many questions of this kind to him, and his replies were invariably correct. Watson has made two or three tours into Hampshire, Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, and Somersetshire, and has exhibited his singular powers in the principal towns in those counties; is familiar with every town, village, and hamlet in Sussex, can tell the number of churches, public-houses, &c. in each. The accompanying portrait, drawn by Mr. S. W. Lee, of Lewes, will give a correct idea of this singular individual. Phrenologists, who have examined George’s skull, state the _organ of numbers_ to be very strongly developed.
~Garrick Plays.~
No. XL.
[From “Fatal Jealousy,” a Tragedy, Author unknown, 1673.]
_No Truth Absolute: after seeing a Masque of Gipseys._
_1st Spectator._ By this we see that all the world’s a cheat, Whose truths and falsehoods lie so intermixt, And are so like each other, that ’tis hard To find the difference. Who would not think these people A real pack of such as we call Gipseys? _2d Spect._ Things perfectly alike are but the same; And these were Gipseys, if we did not know How to consider them the contrary: So in terrestrial things there is not one But takes its form and nature from our fancy, Not its own being, and is but what we think it. _1st Spect._ But Truth is still itself? _2d Spect._ No, not at all, as Truth appears to us; For oftentimes That is a truth to me, that’s false to you; So ’twould not be, if it was truly true.
* * * * *
How clouded Man Doubts first, and from one doubt doth soon proceed A thousand more, in solving of the first! Like ’nighted travellers we lose our way, Then every ignis fatuus makes us stray, By the false lights of reason led about, Till we arrive where we at first set out: Nor shall we e’er truth’s perfect highway see, Till dawns the day-break of eternity.
_Apprehension_
O Apprehension!-- So terrible the consequence appears. It makes my brain turn round, and night seem darker The moon begins to drown herself in clouds, Leaving a duskish horror everywhere. My sickly fancy makes the garden seem Like those benighted groves in Pluto’s kingdoms.
_Injured Husband._
_Wife (dying.)_ Oh, oh, I fain would live a little longer, If but to ask forgiveness of Gerardo! My soul will scarce reach heav’n without his pardon. _Gerardo (entering)._ Who’s that would go to heav’n, Take it, whate’er thou art; and may’st thou be Happy in death, whate’er thou didst design.
_Gerardo; his wife murdered._
_Ger._ It is in vain to look ’em,[434] if they hide; The garden’s large; besides, perhaps they’re gone. We’ll to the body. _Servant._ You are by it now, my Lord. _Ger._ This accident amazes me so much, I go I know not where.
_Doubt._
Doubt is the effect of fear or jealousy, Two passions which to reason give the lye; For fear torments, and never doth assist; And jealousy is love lost in a mist. Both hood-wink truth, and go to blind-man’s-buff, Cry here, then there, seem to direct enough, But all the while shift place; making the mind, As it goes out of breath, despair to find; And, if at last something it stumbles on, Perhaps it calls it false, and then ’tis gone. If true, what’s gain’d? only just time to see A breachless[435] play, a game at liberty; That has no other end than this, that men Run to be tired, just to set down again.
_Owl._
hark how the owl Summons their souls to take a flight with her, Where they shall be eternally benighted.--
* * * * *
[From the “Traitor,” a Tragedy, by J Shirley: by some said to have been written by one Rivers, a Jesuit: 1635.]
_Sciarrah, whose life is forfeited, has offer of pardon, conditionally, that he bring his sister Amidea to consent to the Prince’s unlawful suit. He jestingly tries her affection._
_Sci._--if thou could’st redeem me With anything but death, I think I should Consent to live. _Amid._ Nothing can be too precious To save a brother, such a loving brother As you have been. _Sci._ Death’s a devouring gamester, And sweeps up all;--what think’st thou of an eye? Could’st thou spare one, and think the blemish recompenced To see me safe with the other? or a hand-- This white hand, that has so often With admiration trembled on the lute, Till we have pray’d thee leave the strings awhile, And laid our ears close to thy ivory fingers, Suspecting all the harmony proceeded From their own motions without the need Of any dull or passive instrument.-- No, Amidea; thou shalt not bear one scar, To buy my life; the sickle shall not touch A flower, that grows so fair upon his stalk: I would live, and owe my life to thee, So ’twere not bought too dear. _Amid._ Do you believe, I should not find The way to heav’n, were both mine eyes thy ransom I shall climb up those high and ragged cliffs Without a hand.[436]
* * * * *
[From the “Huntingdon Divertisement,” an Interlude, “for the general entertainment at the County Feast, held at Merchant Taylor’s Hall, June 20th, 1678, by W. M.”]
_Humour of a retired Knight._
_Sir Jeoffry Doe-right. Master Generous Goodman._