Before again recurring to Gray's partiality for the poems of Cowley, I
will make a remark or two on Mr. Wakefield's edition of Gray.
In his delightful "Ode to Adversity" Gray has written:
"Daughter of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the human breast,
Whose iron scourge, and tort'ring hour,
The bad affright, afflict the best."
Upon which Wakefield gives us this brilliant criticism:
"'Torturing hour.' There seems to be some little impropriety and
incongruity in this. Consistency of figure rather required some
material image, like iron scourge and adamantine chain."
Afterwards he seems to speak diffidently of his own judgment, which is
rather an unusual thing in Mr. Wakefield. Well would it have been for
the reputations of Bentley, Johnson, and Wakefield, that, before
improving upon Milton and Gray and Collins, they had remembered the
words of a truly great critic, even Horace himself:
"Sunt delicta tamen quibus ignovisse velimus:
Nam neque chorda sonum reddit quem vult manus et mens,
Poscentique gravem persæpe remittit acutum;
Nec semper feriet quodcunque minabitur arcus.
Verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis
Offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit,
Aut humana parum cavit natura."
Epist. ad Pisones, 347.
Not by any means that I am allowing in this case the existence of a
"macula," or an "incuria" either. To D'Israeli's Curiosities of
Literature I think I am indebted for the remark, that Gray borrowed the
expressions from Milton:
"When the scourge
Inexorably, and the torturing hour
Calls us to penance."
Par. Lost, lib. ii. 90.
It is therefore with Milton, and not with Gray, that Mr. Wakefield must
settle the matter. And in proof of my earnest sympathies with him during
the very unequal contest, I will console him with "proprieties,"
"congruities," "consistencies of figure," and "material images," enough.
"The lifted axe, the agonizing wheel,
Luke's iron crown, and Damien's bed of steel."
Goldsmith's Traveller, ad finem.
Or better for this purpose still:
"Swords, daggers, bodkins, bearded arrows, spears,
Nails, pincers, crosses, gibbets, hurdles, ropes,
Tallons of griffins, paws and teeth of bears,
Tigre's and lyon's mouths, not iron hoops,
Racks, wheels, and trappados, brazen cauldrons which
Boiled with oil, huge tuns which flam'd with pitch."
Beaumonts's Psyche, cant. XXII. v. 69. p. 330.
Cambridge, 1702. Folio.
"Torturing hour" is used by Campbell in his Pleasures of Hope, Part
I.:
"The martyr smiled beneath avenging power,
And braved the tyrant in his torturing hour."
And, indeed, "sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's child," had used it before
any of them:
"Is there no play, to ease the anguish of a torturing hour."
Midsummer Night's Dream, Act V. Sc. 1.
Again, Gray writes in his truly sublime ode, "The Bard:"
"On a rock, whose haughty brow
Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
Robed in the sable garb of woe,
With haggard eyes the poet stood,
(Loose his beard, and hoary hair
Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air),
And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,
Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre."
Ordinary readers would have innocently supposed the above "pictured"
passage beyond all praise or criticism. "At non infelix" Wakefield:
"A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,
Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd."
Macbeth.
I must give his note as it stands, for I question whether the whole
range of verbal criticism could produce anything more ludicrous:
"I wish Mr. Gray could have introduced a more poetical
expression, than the inactive term stood, into this fine
passage: as Shakspeare has, for instance, in his description of
Dover cliff:
'Half way down
Hangs one, that gathers samphire; dreadful trade!'
King Lear, Act IV. Sc. 6.
"Which is the same happy picture as that of Virgil:
"'Dumosa pendere procul de rupe videbo.'
Ecl. I. 77."
He might, when his hand was in, have adduced other passages also from
Virgil, e.g.:
"Imminet in rivi præstantis imaginis undam."
Culex, 66.
However, with all due respect for Mr. Wakefield's "happy pictures," I do
not see anything left, but his eyebrows, for the luckless bard to hang
by! He could not have hung by his hair, which "stream'd like a
meteor to the troubled air;" nor yet by his hands, which "swept the
deep sorrows of his lyre." Besides, there can scarcely be more opposite
pictures than that of a man gathering samphire, or kids browsing,
amongst beetling rocks; and the commanding and awe-inspiring position in
which Gray ingeniously places his bard. The expressions chosen by
Virgil, Shakspeare, and Gray were each peculiarly suitable to the
particular objects in view. If Gray was thinking of Milton, as I
intimated in a former letter, he may have still kept him in mind:
"Incens'd with indignation, Satan stood
Unterrify'd, and like a comet burn'd,
That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge
In the Arctic sky, and from his horrid hair
Shakes pestilence and war."
Par. Lost, lib. ii. 706.
Or again:
"On th' other side, Satan, alarm'd,
Collecting all his might dilated stood,
Like Teneriff or Atlas unremov'd:
His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest
Sat Horror plum'd; nor wanted in his grasp
What seem'd both spear and shield."
Par. Lost, lib. iv. 985.
It would be easy to adduce similar instances from the ancient sources,
but I will only mention From Milton an illustration of the
συστρεψας of Demosthenes, and of the passionate abruptness with which
Gray commences "The Bard:"
"As when of old some orator renown'd
In Athens or free Rome, where eloquence
Flourish'd, since mute, to some great cause addressed
Stood in himself collected, while each part,
Motion, each act won audience ere the tongue,
Sometimes in height began, as no delay
Of preface brooking through his zeal of right."
Par. Lost, lib. ix. 670.
Wakefield's hypercritical fastidiousness would have completely defeated
the intentions of Gray. His "Bard" had a mission to fulfil which could
not have been fulfilled by one suspended like king Solomon, in the
ancient Jewish traditions, or like Mahomet's coffin, mid-way between
heaven and earth. His cry was δος που στω, and the poet heard
him. And thus, from his majestic position, was not—
"Every burning word he spoke
Full of rage and full of grief?"
In the full blaze of poetic phrensy, he flashes out at once with the
awfully grand and terrible exordium:
"Ruin seize thee, ruthless king!
Confusion on thy banners wait!
Tho' fann'd by conquest's crimson wing,
They mock the air with idle state.
Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,
Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears."
Collins thus describes the passion of anger:
"Next Anger rush'd;—his eyes on fire,
In lightnings own'd his secret stings:
In one rude clash he struck the lyre,
And swept with flurried hand the strings."
Word-painting can go no farther. When, however, he comes to
melancholy, in lines which contain more suggestive beauty, as well as
more poetic inspiration, than perhaps any others of the
same
length in the English language, how does he sing?
"With eyes upraised, as one inspired,
Pale Melancholy sate retired;
And, from her wild sequester'd seat,
In notes, by distance made more sweet,
Pour'd thro' the mellow horn her pensive soul:
And, dashing soft from rocks around,
Bubbling runnels join'd the sound;
Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,
Or o'er some haunted stream with fond delay,
Round a holy calm diffusing,
Love of peace, and lonely musing,
In hollow murmurs died away."
Ode on the Passions.
This is the concentrated essence of poetry. Surely Gray had forgotten
Collins when he penned the beautiful lines:
"But not to one in this benighted age,
Is that diviner inspiration given,
That burns in Shakspeare's or in Milton's page,
The pomp and prodigality of heaven,
As when conspiring in the diamond's blaze,
The meaner gems, that singly charm the sight,
Together dart their intermingled rays,
And dazzle with a luxury of light."
Stanzas to Mr. Bentley.
From a memorandum made by Gray himself, it is evident that he once had
contemplated placing his "Bard" in a sitting posture; but I cannot but
rejoice that he altered his mind, for such breath-taking words could
never have been uttered in so composed and contented a posture. I give
part of it from Mr. Mason's edition:
"The army of Edward I., as they marched through a deep valley,
are suddenly stopped by the appearance of a venerable figure,
seated on the summit of an inaccessible rock; who, with a voice
more than human, reproaches the king with all the misery and
desolation he had brought on his country, &c., &c. His song
ended, he precipitates himself from the mountain, and is
swallowed up by the river that rolls at its foot."—Vol. i. p.
73. Lond. 1807.
The last two lines of the passage before us—
"And with a master's hand, and prophet's fire,
Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre"—
remind us in some degree of Cowley:
"Sic cecinit sanctus vates, digitosque volantes
Innumeris per fila modis trepidantia movit,
Intimaque elicuit Medici miracula plectri."
Davideidos, lib. i. p. 13.
Again:
"Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes."
Gray, The Bard.
"Namque oculis plus illa suis, plus lumine cœli
Dilexit."
Davideidos, lib. i. p. 14.
And—
"The Attick warbler pours her throat."
Ode to Spring.
"Tum magnum tenui cecinerunt gutture Numen."
Davideidos, lib. i. p. 20.
Also—
"The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
Chastis'd by sabler tints of woe;
And blended form with artful strife,
The strength and harmony of life."
Gray, On the Pleasure arising from Vicissitude.
The word chastised is similarly used by Cowley:
"From Saul his growth, and manly strength he took,
Chastised by bright Ahinoam's gentler look."
Davideidos, lib. iv. p. 133.
The idea of the whole passage may be found in Pope:
"Love, Hope, and Joy, fair Pleasure's smiling train;
Hate, Fear, and Grief, the family of Pain;
These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confin'd,
Make and maintain the balance of the mind;
The lights and shades, whose well accorded strife,
Gives all the strength and colour of our life."
Essay on Man, Epist. II.
Again:
"Amazement in his van with Flight combin'd,
And Sorrow's faded form, and Solitude behind."
Gray, The Bard.
"Victorious arms thro' Ammon's land it bore,
Ruin behind, and terror march'd before."
Davideidos, lib. iv. p. 135.
Wakefield mentions some parallel passages, but omits the best of all:
"A fire devoureth before them; and behind them a flame burneth:
the land is as the garden of Eden before them, and behind them a
desolate wilderness; Yea, and nothing shall escape them."—Joel,
ii. 3.
In the "Ode on the Installation" Gray says:
"Their tears, their little triumphs o'er
Their human passions now no more."
Wakefield dwells enraptured on the expression human passions. Cowley
speaks of "humana quies" (Davideidos, lib. i. p. 3.). Horace says:
"—— Carminibus quæ versant atque venenis
Humanos animos."
Sat. viii. 19. lib. i.
Human passions is not, however, a creation of Gray's; for, if not
anywhere else, he might have found the words very often in the writings
of William Law, as vigorous a prose writer as England can boast of since
the days of Dr. South. See his answer to Dr. Trapp's Not Righteous
overmuch, p. 62., Lond. 1741; and his Serious Call, cap. xii. p.
137., and cap. xxi. p. 293., Lond. 1816.
To mention its use by modern writers would be endless. I selected these
few passages on
reading Mr. Wakefield's laudations, for otherwise
I should not perhaps have remarked the words as unusual. Wakefield
adduces from Pope's Eloisa to Abelard:
"One human tear shall drop, and be forgiven."
"Noble rage," Gray's Elegy. "Noble rage," Cowley's Davideidos, lib.
iv. p. 137. Again, in the Elegy:
"Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
The mopeing owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wand'ring near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign."
Cowley, in describing the palace of Lucifer, has some fine sentences;
and amongst them:
"Non hic gemmatis stillantia sidera guttis
Impugnant sævæ jus inviolabile noctis."
Davideidos, lib. i. p. 3.
And in English:
"No gentle stars with their fair gems of light,
Offend the tyrannous and unquestion'd night."
Davideidos, lib. i. p. 6.
Akenside constantly used the adjective human in different
conjunctions.
RT.
Warmington.
The following song I never saw in print. I knew an old lady, who fifty
years ago used to sing it. Is it known?
Near Reading there lived a buxom young dame,
The wife of a miller, and Joan was her name;
And she had a hen of a wondrous size,
The like you never beheld with your eyes:
It had a red head, gay wings, yellow legs,
And every year laid her a bushel of eggs,
Which made her resolve for to set it with speed,
Because she'd a mind to have more of the breed.
Now as she was setting her hen on a day,
A shepherd came by, and thus he did say:
"Oh, what are you doing?" She answered him then,
"I'm going to set my miraculous hen."
"O, Joan," said the shepherd, "to keep your eggs warm,
And that they may prosper and come to no harm,
You must set them all in a large cuckold's cap,
And then all your chickens will come to good hap."
"O, I have no cuckold's cap, shepherd," said she,
"But nevertheless I'll be ruled by thee;
For this very moment I'll trudge up and down,
And borrow one, if there be one in the town."
So she went to the baker's, and thus she did say:
"O, lend me a cuckold's cap, neighbour, I pray,
For I'm going to set my miraculous hen,
And when that I've done with't, I'll bring it again."
The baker's wife answered, and thus she replied:
"Had I got such a thing, you should not be denied;
But these nineteen or twenty years I have been wed,
And my husband ne'er had such a cap to his head.
But go to my cousin, who lives at the mill,
I know she had one, and she may have it still;
Tell her I sent you, she'll lend it, I know."
"Thank ye," says Joan, and away she did go.
So, straight to the house of the miller she went,
And told her that she by her cousin was sent,
To borrow a thing which was wondrous rare,
'Twas a large cuckold's cap, which her husband did wear.
"I do not dispute but such things there may be;
But why should my cousin, pray, send you to me?
For these nineteen or twenty years I've been a wife,
And my husband ne'er had such a cap in his life.
"But go to the quaker who lives at the Swan,
I know she had one, and if 'tisn't gone,
Tell her to lend it to you for my sake,
Which I the same for a great favour shall take."
So she went to the house of old Yea and Nay,
And said to his wife, who was buxom and gay,
"I'm come for to borrow, if that you will lend,
A large cuckold's cap: I was sent by a friend."
The quaker's wife answered and said, with a frown,
"Why, I've no such thing, if thou'dst give me a crown;
Besides, I'd not lend it, friend Joan, if I had,
For fear it should make my old husband run mad.
In town there are many young damsels, perhaps,
Who may be ingenious in making these caps,
But as for their names, I really can't say,
So, therefore, friend Joan, excuse me, I pray."
Now Joan being tired and weary withal,
She said, "I've had no good fortune at all.
I find that it is the beginning of sorrow,
To trudge up and down among neighbours to borrow.
A large cuckold's cap I wanted indeed,
A thing of small value, and yet couldn't speed:
But, as I'm a woman, believe me," says Joan,
"Before it be long, I'll have one of my own."
J. R. RELTON.
This poem, though not absolutely the earliest in point of date, is the
longest of the numerous poems produced among the Kymry of the north of
England during the sixth and seventh centuries. Two translations have
already appeared in English; one by the Rev. Edward Davies, the author
of Celtic Researches, and the other by a gentleman named Probert. Of
these the latter, though very imperfect and extremely defective, is the
only one which an English reader should consult; the version given by
Davies is only a very ingenious misrepresentation. The poem has no more
reference
to Hengist than it has to the man-in-the-moon; and
GOMER might have suspected that a version which, without rule or reason,
deprived historic personages of their reality, could not have been
correct. Every proper name mentioned in the Gododin may be shown
without any alteration to be those of persons living between 577 and
642. The proof of this assertion, when carefully examined, is all but
overwhelming; but here I can only cite a few of the most tangible facts.
The design of the poem is thus described by the bard himself:—
"O ved O vuelin,
O Gattraeth werin,
Mi a na vi Aneurin
Ys gwyr Taliesin,
Oveg cyvrenhin
Neu cheing Ododin
Cyn gwawr dydd dilin."
These lines may be thus translated:—
"Of mead from the mead horn,
Of the host of Cattraeth,
I, Aneurin, will do
What is known to Taliesin,
A man of kindred disposition.
Will I not sing of what befell
Gododin, before the break of day?"
From frequent notices in other parts of the poem, we find that the
subject is the defeat of (the Ottadini) the men of Gododin, in a battle
which took place in the year 603, near Cattraeth, which may be
identified with the Cataracton of Ptolemy, the Cataract of Bede, and the
present Catterick in Yorkshire. The men of Gododin in this campaign were
in league with the Novantæ of Wigtonshire, the Britons of Strathclyde,
the Scots of Argyle, and the Picts of Fife and Perth. Of this army the
chiefs alone amounted to three hundred and sixty; but, to use the words
of the bard, "Mead brought shame on the best of armies;" and the chiefs,
on account of temporary success over a part of Ethelfrith's Northumbrian
army, spent the night in wild carousal. Overtures of peace were made to
them by Ethelfrith, and contemptuously rejected; they rushed pell-mell
to battle before the break of day; and the bard, seeing them falling
helplessly drunk from their horses, "drew a veil over his face and fled,
weeping on his way." I here assume that Cattraeth and Cataract are the
same place; and to cite only one of many evidences, the position of the
Ottadini in the immediate neighbourhood of Catterick, lends this view
strong confirmation. But there is here another assumption, to which I
invite the attention of English antiquaries. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle
relates the occurrence of a great battle between Ethelfrith of
Northumbria and the northern Britons in the year 603: of that battle the
site is variously named Degstan, Dægsanstane, and Egesanstane; but
antiquarian researches have not determined where Egesanstane was. Some
place it at Dawston, near Jedburg, in Scotland, and others at Dalston in
Cumberland; but all confess uncertainty. Now I assume that the place
called Egesanstane is more likely to be Siggeston, in the North Riding
of Yorkshire, which is about five or six miles east of Catterick; and
this conjecture is strongly supported by the fact that Ethelfrith in
this case was not the invader but the invaded, as it is said, "Hering,
the son of Hussa, led the enemy thither," to the dominions of
Ethelfrith, which were then but little else than the eastern coast of
Northumberland and Yorkshire. If this view be correct, our antiquaries
have hitherto been in error on this point; the site of the great battle
of 603 is no longer unknown; and Egesanstane and Cattraeth are only two
names for the same battle, just as another battle-field is variously
named the battle of Waterloo by us, and that of Mont St. Jean by the
French.
Probert places the death of Aneurin in 570: the Gododin shows him to
have been an eyewitness of an event which took place in 642. Davies,
whose works are striking evidences of a powerful intellect completely
led astray, makes the subject to have been the reported massacre at
Stonehenge, which possibly never took place, but which he fixes in 472.
Now I have cited a passage which, referring to Taliesin as an authority,
implies that Aneurin was his junior; and Taliesin was living in 610.
Again, Davies makes an abortive attempt to get rid of the last poem of
Llywarch Hen, which shows him to have been living as late as the year
640, when most of his sons had fallen in battle. Llywarch himself was
either at the battle of Cattraeth, or assisted in organising the
campaign; for though not mentioned by Aneurin, he himself alludes to the
time "when we attacked the great-smoker-of-towns (Ethelfrith)."
At this battle Aneurin was taken prisoner, and confined in "an earthen
house," from which he was released "by the bright sword of Cenau, the
son of Llywarch." The son of Llywarch could scarcely have been living in
472; and Davies in vain essays to get rid of this obdurate fact. This
passage in Aneurin—
"Under foot was gravel,
Stretched out was my leg
In the subterranean house,
And an iron chain
Was bound about my knees,"
shows the use of under-ground hovels to have extended far into the
historic period.
One fact more, and this demonstration that Aneurin has been ante-dated
will be complete. The bard in three several places mentions a battle of
Mannan, in much the same way as we at this day speak of Waterloo; and it
is evident that, in the estimation of the bard and his countrymen, the
battle of Mannan was the last great event
before the battle of
Cattraeth. The first of these passages is—
"Caeawe Cymnyviat cyvlat Erwyt
. . . . .
Rae ergit Cadfannan catwyt."
"Caeog was a conflictor with destructive pikes.
. . . . .
He was preserved from the blows of Mannan-fight."
Cæog, whom Davies converts into the adjective "adorned," was the
brother of Cynddylan, Prince of Powys (Elegies of Llywarch Hen, p.
70.). On the death of his brother in 577, he went to North Briton; he
escaped from the blows of Mannan, and afterwards fell at Cattraeth.
Again, of a chief named Twrch it is said:—
"He loved the battling of spears,
At Mannan, and before Aldud the renowned."
"Emyt af crennyt y gat waewawr
Catvannan yr Aelut clodvawr."
Again he says of another chief:—
"Yn dieding . . . . .
Ac Adan Cadvannan cochre,
Veirch marchawg goddrud y more."
"Resistless
As Aeddan of the blood-stained steeds of Mannan-fight,
He was an impetuous rider that morning."
Here we have three separate proofs of the fact, that Cadvannan was
anterior to the battle of Cattraeth: now when and where did that take
place? In the year 582, and probably at Clackmannan, on the Firth of
Forth in Scotland. Here is my authority (Annals of Ulster):
"DLXXXII. Bellum Manan, in quo victor erat Aodhan Mar Gawran."
The battle of Cattraeth must be that of 603, at which Aeddan was also
present.
These few annotations from a new translation of The Gododin now in
MS., will, it is hoped, satisfy your correspondent GOMER that I am
justified in repeating the views of Davies. Should he wish to get a
correct text, and a judicious version of The Gododin, he had better
subscribe to a translation by the Rev. J. Williams (author of the
Ecclesiastical Antiquities of the Cymry), now about to issue from the
Llandovery press, at a very moderate price. Probert's translation is
very scarce.
Is there no tradition of this battle at Sigston?
THOS. STEPHENS.
Lincolnshire Folk Lore.—The following, illustrating as it does a
superstition still very prevalent in Lincolnshire, may interest some of
your readers. I transcribed it a few days ago in the British Museum from
Holly's Lincolnshire Notes, vol. iii. fol. 358.:—
"The other I receaued from Mr. Thomas Codd, minister of Laceby in
Linc, wĉh he gave under his owne hand; he himself being a
native of ye place where this same happened, and it was thus:
"At Axholme, alias Haxey, in ye Isle, one Mr. Edward Vicars
(curate to Mr. Wm. Dalby, vicar), together with one Robert
Hallywell a taylor, intending on St. Marke's even at night to
watch in ye church porch to see who shoud die in ye yeare
following (to this purpose using divers ceremonies), they
addressing themselues to the busines, Vicars (being then in his
chamber) wished Hallywell to be going before and he would
pŝently follow him. Vicars fell asleep, and Hallywell
(attending his coming in ye church porch) forthwith sees certaine
shapes pŝnting themselves to his view, resemblances (as he
thought) of diuers of his neighbours, who he did nominate; and
all of them dyed the yeare following; and Vicars himselfe (being
asleep) his phantome was seen of him also, and dyed with ye rest.
This sight made Hallywell so agast that he looks like a Ghoast
ever since. The lord Sheffield (hearing this relation) sent for
Hallywell to receiue account of it. The fellow fearing my Lord
would cause him to watch the church porch againe he hid himselfe
in the Carrs till he was almost starued. The number of those that
died (whose phantasmes Hallywell saw) was as I take it about
fower score.
"Tho. Cod, Rector Ecclie de Laceby."
EDWARD PEACOCK.
Bottesford Moors, Messingham, Kirton in Lindsey.
—It is commonly stated in books of
geography that the modern name of Athens is Statines. In Hennin's
Manuel de Numismatique Ancienne it is stated to be Satines or
Atini; and Mr. Akerman, in his most excellent Numismatic Manual,
makes the same statement. We find it stated also universally that the
modern name of Cos is Stanco; and this has been repeated in all maps
and charts until the recently published Admiralty Chart, No. VI. of the
Archipelago series, where it is called Cos.
The origin of this and other similar blunders is curious. Athens retains
its plural termination, and is always used with the article,
αι Αθηναι. If you ask a peasant walking from the Piræus whither he is
going, he will answer you,
Εις τας Αθηνας, but will rapidly
enunciate it as follows,
'σ'τ'σΑθηνας, whence Statines,
lately reduced to Satines.
I am surprised that Cos was not set down as Stinco rather than
Stanco, for if you hail a Coan vessel, and ask whither it is bound,
the
καραβουκυρι, or skiff-master, would certainly reply
στην Κῳ, if Cos were his destination.
I find that both M. Hennin and Mr. Akerman assert that Thebes is now
called Stives. I conversed with a noble-looking youth on the ruins of
Eleusis, and asking him from what part of the country he came, I shall
not easily forget the
stately dignity with which he tossed his
capote over his shoulder, and answered
ειμι Θηβαίος—I am a
Theban. The bold Bœotian would have stared in amazement had I spoken
to him of Stives, although, if homeward-bound, he would have said he
was going
'σ τας Θηβας.
The Turks have made Istambol or Stamboul out of
στην πολιν; and
we may, perhaps, hear from our friends, the Nepaulese ambassadors, that
the capital of England is called Tolondon, and that of France Apari.
L. H. J. T.
—The Duke of Wellington's reply to Mr.
Huskisson, "There is no mistake," has become familiar in the mouths of
both those who remember the political circumstances that gave rise to
it, and those who have received it traditionally, without inquiring into
the origin of it. You may perhaps think it worthy of a "Note" that this
was not the first occasion on which the Duke used those celebrated
words. The Duke (then Earl of Wellington) in a private letter to Lord
Bathurst, dated Flores de Avila, 24th July, 1812, writes in the
following easy style:
"I hope that you will be pleased with our battle, of which the
dispatch contains as accurate an account as I can give you.
There was no mistake, everything went on as it ought; and there
never was an army so beaten in so short a time."
The whole letter is well deserving of insertion; but my object is simply
to draw attention to the occasion on which the Duke first used the
sentence now so well known.
F. W. J.
—The following prediction of St. Cæsario, Bishop
of Arles, in the year 542, may not be considered void of interest at the
present moment. It is taken from a book, entitled Liber Mirabilis,
printed in Gothic characters, and deposited in the Royal Library,
Paris:—
"The administration of the kingdom, France, will be so blended,
that they shall leave it without defenders. The hand of God shall
extend itself over them, and over all rich; all the nobles shall
be deprived of their estates and dignity; a division shall spring
up in the church of God, and there shall be two husbands, the one
true, and the other adulterous. The legitimate husband shall be
put to flight; there shall be great carnage, and as great a
profusion of blood as in the day of the Gentiles. The universal
church and the whole world shall deplore the ruin and destruction
of a most celebrated city, the capital and mistress of France.
The altars of the temple shall be destroyed, the holy virgins
outraged shall fly from their seats, and the whole church shall
be stripped of her temporal gods; but at length the black eagle
and the lion shall appear hovering from far countries. Misery to
thee, O city of philosophy! thou shalt be subjected! A captive
humbled even to confusion, shall at last receive his crown, and
destroy the children of Brutus."
ALPHA.
"The musket-ball that killed Nelson is now in the possession of
the Rev. F. W. Baker, of Bathwick, near Bath. A considerable
portion of the gold lace, pad, and silk cord of the epaulette,
with a piece of coat, were found attached to it. The gold lace
was as firmly fixed as if it had been inserted into the metal
while in a state of fusion. The ball, together with the lace,
&c., was mounted in crystal and silver, and presented by Captain
Hardy to the late Sir William Beattie, the surgeon of the
Victory."
I have extracted this from the Illustrated London News, First Number.
If this relic be now in the possession of Prince Albert, I presume it
became his by purchase or presentation from the above-named gentleman.
BLOWEN.
—The Indian origin of the numerals of this people is evident
from the following comparison:
| Sanscrit. | Hungarian Gypsy. | Spanish Gitáno. |
| 1. eka | jek | yeque |
| 2. dwaou | dui | dui |
| 3. traya | trin | trin |
| 4. tchatouara | schtar | estar |
| 5. panyntcha | pansch | pansche |
| 6. chach | tschov | job |
| 7. sapta | efta | hefta |
| 8. achtaou | ochto | otor |
| 9. nava | enija | esnia |
| 10. dasa | dösch | deque |
The Sanscrit must be read with a French pronunciation, being from
Balbi's Atlas Ethnographique; the Hungarian Gypsy as German, and the
last as Spanish; the two latter are from Borrow's Zuicali, vol. ii. p.
118.
T. J. BUCKTON.
Lichfield.