> 
 
 ..x
 
 f r tin S n a L
 
 far tjt Social: 
 
 13]) Hie .(lutljav of 
 
 for the 
 
 
 
 N K \V YORK: 
 
 >K WITT cV DAVKNI nliT. HHi A: H .-J N ASSAF STIIKKT
 
 <|or 
 jose Intellectual Castes prefer fl&fyolegome |piei to 
 
 ITiierarg Confectiotttrg, 
 
 ban sgetiallg 
 
 " ^n Epicure."
 
 "A DINSKB of fragments is often said to be the best dinner; 
 so there are few minds but might furuish some instruction and 
 entertainment of their scraps, their odds and ends of thought*. 
 They who cannot weave uniform web, may at least produce a 
 piece of patchwork." , 
 
 GCISSU AT TBtJTir. 
 
 " To the man of robust and healthy intellect, who gathers the 
 harvest of literature into his bam, thrashes the straw, winnows 
 the grain, grinds it in his own mill, bakes it in his own oven, and 
 then eats the true bread of knowledge, we bid a cordial wel 
 come." 
 
 SOCTHBY S DOCTOR.
 
 "I WOULD go fifty miles on foot, to kiss the hand of that man whose generous heart 
 will give up the reins of his imagination into his author s hands be pleased, he knows 
 not why, and cares not wherefore." STERNE. 
 
 SOUTHEY remarks that there are some persons who are willing to be 
 pleased, and thankful for being pleased, without thinking it necessary that 
 they should be able to parse their pleasure, like a lesson, or give a rule 
 or reason why they are pleased. It is the aim and design of the following 
 pages to put the reader in this precise condition ; believing, with Sydney 
 Smith, " that all mankind are happier for having been happy ; so that if 
 you make them happy now, you make them h*ppy twenty years hence 
 by the memory of it." Old books by great authors are not in every 
 body s reach ; and though it is better to know them thoroughly than to 
 know them here and there, yet it is a good work to give a little to those 
 who have neither time nor means to get more. When in any fragrant, 
 scarce old tome the bookworm discovers a sentence or an illustration 
 that does his own heart good, he should hasten to give it currency. Most 
 readers readers con amore, have some snug little corner in the store 
 house of memory, in which they treasure up choice passages of their 
 favorite authors. It requires more than a mental process to reduce such 
 a heterogenous collection to something like order. The present volume, 
 with its antecedent, originated in some such an attempt. These desul-
 
 X INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 tory chapters are the fruitage of many pleasant, recreative hours spent 
 in the highways and by-ways of literature. Whenever a tempting thought- 
 blossom decoyed us by its alluring beauty, the prize was captured to 
 enrich and grace our collection. Such gleanings may by some be deemed 
 trifles, but 
 
 "Though high philosophy despise such things, 
 They often give to weightier truths their wing* ; 
 Convey a moral, or correct bad taste, 
 Though aptly called light learning, still not waste. 
 A spark of nature s fire will not despise, 
 A word sometimes makes brighter, lovelier eyes ; 
 A flash of wit disarms old care of wrath, 
 A happy line throws beauty in our path ; 
 Though sages say light learning wisdom stifles, 
 There it delight in stringing useful trifles." 
 
 If trifles are facts, they cease to be trivial ; and in these stirring 
 times, when our allotted leisure is becoming infinitessimally small, the 
 terse and epigrammatic are to be preferred to the discursive and the 
 diffuse, in our reading. Somewhat after the manner of old Burton, 
 these chapters are fertile of quotations being compounded mainly of the 
 thoughts of others a species of literary amalgam. This will scarcely 
 be considered an objection, since it gives the essence of many minds 
 instead of one. A quaint writer asserts that " every book is itself a quo 
 tation." As with the jeweller, if in some instances the setting may be 
 rudely done, yet the gem still retains its original value ; and we are free 
 to confess, as did Goldsmith of his " Vicar" (and with vastly more reason), 
 that " there are a hundred faults in this thing ; yet a book may be amus 
 ing with numerous errors, or it may be dull without a single absurdity." 
 It would be great temerity to appropriate to our humble essay the witty 
 analysis of the witty author already cited, and affirm that "it has pro-
 
 INTRODUCTORY. XI 
 
 fundity without obscurity, perspicuity without prolixity, ornament without 
 glare, terseness without barrenness, penetration without subtlety, com 
 prehensiveness without digression, and a great number of other things 
 without a great number of other things." 
 
 The present work might not inaptly be styled an odd volume, were it 
 not intended to be even with its predecessor, of which, indeed, it forms 
 the counterpart. It is odd in its plan and arrangement, consists of odd 
 sayings and selections, from many odd and out-of-the-way authors. It is, 
 moreover, fitted for odd readers, and odd half-hours, and, oddly enough, 
 is the handiwork of a very odd specimen of an author. Oddities are not, 
 however, without their use ; they sometimes dispel ennui, the headache, 
 and even the heartache. 
 
 Our design has been to minister to intellectual entertainment with 
 instruction, mingling 
 
 Sayings fetched from sages old, 
 Laws which Holy Writ unfold, 
 Worthy to be graved in gold ; 
 Lighter fancies not excluding, 
 Blameless wit, with nothing rude In, 
 Sometimes mildly interluding. 
 
 For we hold, with Rabelais, that the funds of wit and merriment are 
 not yet exhausted that the wings of fancy are not yet clipped, and that 
 our ancestors have not said and sung all our good things. 
 
 " What more refreshing than a Salad, when your appetite seems to 
 have deserted you, or even after a generous dinner the nice, fresh, 
 crisp salad full of life and health, seems to invigorate the palate and 
 dispose the masticatory powers to a much longer duration."* 
 
 *3oyer.
 
 Xii INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 "Salads," according to a modern French authority,* " refresh without 
 exciting, and make people younger." The Salad we offer ought to have 
 this effect ; and we hope everybody will bring to it what everybody 
 wishes for, and as soon as possessed, loses a good appetite. Salads 
 are not generally suited for weak digestions, or sickly folk ; yet we 
 have it certified on professional authority that this salad is adapted 
 for the especial cure and comfort of any who may have such malady as 
 that complained of by the author of Elia, who thus piteously portrays 
 his sufferings to Bernard Barton: "Do you know what it is to succumb 
 under an insurmountable day-mare an indisposition to do anything, or 
 to be anything a total deadness and distaste a suspension of vitality 
 an indifference to locality, a numb, soporific good-for-nothingness an 
 ossification all over, an oyster-like indifference to passing events a mind 
 stupor a brawny defiance to the needles of a thrashing-5n conscience 
 with a total irresolution to submit to water-gruel processes?" 
 
 After sundry erasures, blottings, corrections, insertions, enlargings and 
 diminishing?, with interlineations, we have at length completed the work, 
 which, whatever may be alleged against it, shall be innocent of all heresy 
 of necromancy, geomancy, alchymy, exorcism, phantasmagoria, witch 
 craft, metoposcopy, sorcery, or thaumaturgie. 
 
 As this is a Salad for the Social, it is to be hoped that it will prove 
 savory to the palate of a goodly number of good-natured guests ; 
 since even frugal fare is rendered relishable by the presence of smiling 
 faces and happy hearts, while the most costly viands often lose their 
 zest where these are not. Foremost among the pleasures of the table 
 are, what an elegant novelist has termed " those felicitous moods in 
 which our animal spirits search, and carry up, as it were, to the surface, 
 our intellectual gifts and acquisitions." The invitation to this repast is. 
 
 * Brlllat Sftvarin.
 
 INTBODTJOTOBY. Xlll 
 
 therefore, respectfully tendered all genial spirits who will bear com 
 pany with the humble host ; and being unknown to the great world, " I 
 will tell you, sirs, by way of private, and under seal, I am a gentleman, 
 and live here obscure, and to myself."* 
 
 F. S. 
 
 * Ben Jonson.
 
 INTRODUCTORY, ix 
 
 BOOKCRAFT, 17 
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH, . . .62 
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES, 96 
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE, 140 
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS, 189 
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW, 243 
 
 THE MUTE CREATION, 273 
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES, 819 
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE, 867 
 
 A STRAY LEAF, 899
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 
 
 "Mightiest of the mighty means, 
 
 On which the arm of Pi-ogress leans 
 Man s noblest mission to advance, 
 His woes assuage, his weal enhance, 
 His rights enforce, his wrongs redress 
 Mightiest of the mighty is the Press . " BOWRINO. 
 
 11 Books are spectacles with which to read nature. They teach us to understand and 
 feel what we see, to decipher and syllable the hieroglyphics of the senses." DRTDEN. 
 
 BOOKS are an essential element of our social economy. The 
 best minds of every age are trained by 
 
 " Those dead but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule 
 Our spirits from their urns." 
 
 From books they receive most of their culture ; and by 
 them are disciplined in youth, stimulated in manhood, and 
 solaced in age. "When I am reading a book," said Swift, 
 " whether wise or silly, it seems to me to be alive or talking to
 
 18 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 me." Such is the feeling of every student who appreciates the 
 author he reads. 
 
 " There are those who desire a book as a living companion 
 of the mind ; and to such, a good work is society to his lone 
 liness a balm to his troubles a friend to the friendless 
 wealth to the poor, and, moreover, can keep the mind in 
 action, though the body dies. It was Plato who went to play 
 when he was elected to the consulship, but the evening before 
 he died, he read. Mind lives by mind as it has been developed 
 and preserved ; and man, by this medium, has shown himself 
 in action like an angel, in word& like a god. Take this from 
 him and he is nothing."* 
 
 " In books we have friends for every mood comforters for 
 every sorrow ; a glorious company of immortals, scattering 
 their sweet influences on the worn and beaten paths of our 
 daily life. Shapes that haunt thought s wilderness are 
 around us, in toil, and suffering, and joy : mitigating labor, 
 soothing care, giving a keener relish to delight ; touching the 
 heroic string in our nature with a noble sentiment ; kindling 
 our hearts, lifting our imaginations, and hovering alike over 
 the couch of health and the sick pillow, to bless and cheer, 
 and animate and console." 
 
 Book-making, once a science, acquired by long laborious toil, 
 has, by the appliances of modern machinery, become a mercan 
 tile pursuit of almost unlimited extent. In olden times, the 
 stylus and parchment were the mechanical essentials of a book, 
 and years were often devoted to its production ; now, by the 
 magic of metal type and the steam-press, volumes are multi 
 plied almost by the hour. Formerly, a book, both as to its 
 mind and mechanism, was the sole work of the monk or 
 scribe ; now, there is a division of labor the author writes it, 
 the steam-press prints it, and the publisher is its purveyor to 
 the public. 
 
 * Henry Giles.
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 19 
 
 By this expedient, the universal diffusion of knowledge has 
 been promoted, and each department of the labor been ren 
 dered more perfect. But for this, the light of learning would 
 not have been reflected from the luminous page, while the 
 Cimmerean gloom of the "dark ages" would have still cast 
 deep shadows over the nations. 
 
 " The PEN and the PRESS, bless d alliance ! combined 
 To soften the heart and enlighten the mind ; 
 For that to the treasures of knowledge gave birth, 
 And this sent them forth to the ends of the earth ; 
 Their battles for truth were triumphant, indeed, 
 And the rod of the tyrant was snapped like a reed. 
 They were made to exalt us, to teach us, to bless, 
 Those invincible brothers the PEN and the PRESS."* 
 
 A book has been curiously defined, " brain preserved in 
 ink," and when there is plenty of the fruit, it is a conserve to 
 tempt the most capricious palate. In ancient times, books 
 were written on the bark of trees ; hence the Latin word liber, 
 from which we derive our English term "library." "Book" 
 is from the Saxon, " Joe," a beech-tree. 
 
 A tablet made from the main body of a tree was called codex 
 or caudex. Scipio Maffei distinguishes square and round books 
 by the terms codex and liber, respectively. It is doubtful whether 
 barks or stones were first written on ; although the Decalogue, 
 the first writing of which we have any authentic account, was 
 on the latter. The leaves of plants were long used for writing 
 on chiefly those of the palm, papyrus,f tiles, &c. Leather, 
 and goat-skins were used by the Egyptians. Plates of 
 
 * J. C. Prince. 
 
 t The invention of parchment is ascribed to Eumenes, who reigned more than 
 two thousand years ago. He was the founder of an extensive library, into which the 
 new manufacture was largely introduced. Parchment volumes were commonly rolled 
 on a round stick, with a ball at each end, and the composition began at the centre. 
 These were called volumes, and the outsides were inscribed just as we now letter books.
 
 20 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 copper and lead were also used in the East. Accord 
 ing to Josephns, the children of Seth wrote their inventions in 
 Astronomy, &c., on stone pillars. Hesiod s works were first 
 written on tables of lead Solon s laws on wooden planks. 
 The wood was sometimes covered with wax, so that the writing 
 could be easily effaced. Pliny thinks that writing on lead 
 succeeded that on barks. 
 
 The term "volume" is from voho, to roll, the earlier manu 
 scripts being in the form of a scroll or roll. 
 
 The Chinese manufacture paper of linen, the fibres of the 
 young bamboo of the mulberry ; the envelope of the silk 
 worm of a native tree called chu or ko-chu but especially of 
 cottou. They were in possession of the art long before it was 
 known in Europe ; and, as Mecca was a sort of depot for the 
 fabrics of China, it is by some very reasonably supposed, that 
 the paper was brought from that country. Whatever might 
 have been its origin, the art was undoubtedly employed and 
 improved by the Arabs, who, in their career of conquest, car 
 ried it into Spain, about the beginning of the tenth century. 
 Other accounts ascribe the invention of cotton paper to 
 Greece ; indeed, not only its origin, but the various improve 
 ments in its manufacture, and the different substitutions of new 
 materials have long been the subject of controversy. 
 
 Cotton paper was called charta bombydna : it was very white 
 and strong, but not equal to that in which linen is a consti 
 tuent. . 
 
 With regard to linen paper, authorities differ widely. By 
 some accounts, its manufacture was not introduced into Europe 
 until the latter part of the fourteenth century, a. mill having 
 
 The Greek MSS., !n Herculaneum, consist of papyrus, rolled, charred, and m.itfed 
 together by the fire, and are about nine inches long, and one, two, or three inches in 
 diameter, each being a volume or separate treatise. 
 
 Cotton and silk paper were in use at an early period, but linen rags were not used 
 till A. D. 1200. This Invention has been placed earlier by some good authorities, but it 
 would appear that they have confounded the cotton with the linen paper. The first 
 paper-mill was erected in England, towardi the end of the sixteenth century.
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 21 
 
 been, in 1390, established at Nuremberg. In 1366, however, 
 the Republic of Venice granted a patent to the town of 
 Treviso, for the exclusive manufacture of linen paper ; and it 
 is also stated, that the Arabs, when in Spain, on account of 
 the scarcity of cotton, and the abundance of flax and hemp, 
 substituted the latter material in its preparation. Their first 
 manufactories were at Xativa, now San Felipe. 
 
 Forty years ago, three men, by handwork, could scarcely 
 manufacture 4,000 small sheets of paper a day, while now they 
 can produce 60,000 in the same time. It has been calculated, 
 that if the paper produced yearly by six machines could be put 
 together, the sheet would encircle the world. 
 
 Xowhere is paper so much used as in the United States. 
 In France, with 35,000,000 of inhabitants, only 70,000 tons 
 are produced yearly, of which one-seventh is for exportation. 
 In England, with 28,000,000 of inhabitants, 66,000 tons are 
 produced ; while in this country the amount is nearly as great 
 as in France and England together. 
 
 A large proportion of this consumption of paper is directed 
 to the 2,000 newspapers which are incessantly springing up in 
 all sections of this country some to flourish, but more born 
 but to die, and make room for the succession. 
 
 When first the art of Printing was discovered, only one side 
 of a page was impressed : the printers had not yet found out 
 the expedient of impressing the other. When the editions 
 were intended to be curious, they omitted to print the first 
 letter of a chapter, for which they left a blank space, that it 
 might be painted or illuminated, at the option of the purchaser. 
 Several ancient volumes of these early times have been found, 
 where these letters are wanting, as they neglected to have 
 them painted. It was the glory of the learned, when the art 
 was first established, to be correctors of the press, to the 
 eminent printers. Physicians, lawyers, and bishops, as well 
 as authors, occupied this department. The printers then 
 added frequently to their names those of the correctors of the
 
 22 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 press ; and editions were valued according to the abilities of 
 the corrector. 
 
 About the close of the fourteenth century, the world was 
 blessed with the invention of this art. Three German cities 
 Haarlem, Mentz, and Strasburg claim, each one, the honor 
 of having been the place of the original discovery, but the 
 evidence rather inclines to favor the claim of Mentz ; for, at 
 this city, either by John Guttenberg or Peter Schoeffer, in the 
 year 1440, were invented movable types ; with which movable 
 types, the first book printed was the Bible, and that in the 
 year 1450, though some authorities declare that the Latin 
 Bible, or Vulgate, was first printed on the Continent, in 1462. 
 Lawrence I. Coster, of Haarlem, discovered the art of impress 
 ing characters on paper, by means of wooden blocks, in the 
 year 1430 ; and we may here remark that the ground of doubt 
 between Guttenberg and Schoeffer seems to be an opinion 
 pretty well authenticated, that the types of the former were of 
 wood those of the latter of metal ; and that while the inven 
 tion of the one happened in the year 1440, that of the other 
 was consummated at some time during the following ten years. 
 
 John Faust, or Fust, was only concerned as a patron of 
 Schoeffer, but as such he was sincere and energetic. Some 
 writers declare that Fust went to Paris, carrying with him for 
 sale a number of printed Bibles. That the similarity of all 
 these books caused the French to distrust him as a conjuror. 
 That at first they threatened to indict him, and thus extorted 
 the secret. And they add that from this affair, the popular 
 story of Dr. Faustus took its rise. This, however, is false. 
 Haywood tells us (see " Goethe s Faust"), that " Johann" (or 
 John) " Faust" (or Faustus that is, the conjuror) " was born 
 at Kunklingen, within the territory of Wiirtemberg, of parents 
 low of stock (as Marlow expresses it), some time towards the 
 fifteenth century. He must not be confounded with Faust (or 
 Fust), the printer, who flourished more than half a century 
 before."
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 
 
 To the German triumvirate belongs the honor of having 
 been the first to employ movable types, matrices, and punches 
 in printing. 
 
 Trithemius, a contemporary, ascribes the invention of movable 
 types jointly to Gutenberg and Faust, and an ancient chronicle 
 at Cologne notes that, after ten years preparation, the art of 
 printing began to be practised in the year 1450. The former 
 authority further states that the parties expended in the print 
 ing of the first twelve sheets of the Bible, 4,000 florins. 
 The Bible in question is the Latin Yulgatc, commonly known 
 by the name of the Mazarin Bible, from a copy of it having 
 been discovered, in the middle of the last century, in the Bib- 
 hothcque Mazarine* 
 
 It is worthy of note that the advent of the " divine art" was 
 sanctified by religion. It was fitting that it " should thus first 
 be devoted to the Sacred Oracles, since no book had been so 
 
 * In Tinr.pcrley s amusing volume on " Printers and Printing," it is stated that John 
 Muller (surnamed Regiomontanus) who died at Rome, in the year 1476, was for gome 
 tune suspected of being the inventor of printing,
 
 24 SALAD FOlt THE SOCIAL. 
 
 frequently transcribed in earlier times, and none, we may add, 
 has been so often reprinted in later. The majority of all the 
 books ever published owe much of their essence and genius to 
 its inspirations. The muse of Milton, Cowper, and a host of 
 others in sacred song, have found in the Bible their Pierian 
 spring ; and even the world s poet, Shakspeare, is no exception 
 to the fact. Its lessons are the essence of religion, " the 
 seminal truth of theology, the first principles of morals, and the 
 guiding axioms of political economy." It has moulded the 
 finest minds that have ever blessed humanity ; it has sustained 
 the heart alike of prince and peasant, under suffering and sor 
 row, shed a halo of glory around the grave, and lit up a path 
 way to a brighter world. 
 
 Gutenberg was the inventor of the art, and Faust, a gold 
 smith, furnished the necessary funds. Had it been a single 
 page, or even an entire sheet, which was then produced, there 
 might have been less occasion to have noticed it ; but there 
 was something in the whole character of the affair, which, if 
 not unprecedented, rendered it singular in the usual current of 
 human events. This Bible was in two folio volumes, which 
 have been justly praised for the strength and beauty of the 
 paper, the exactness of the register, and the lustre of the ink. 
 The work contained twelve hundred and eighty-two pages, and, 
 being the first ever printed, of course involved a long period 
 of time, and an immense amount of mental, manual, and mecha 
 nical labor, and yet for a long time after it had been finished 
 and offered for sale, not a human being, save the artists them 
 selves, knew how it had been accomplished. Of the printed 
 Bible, twenty-six copies are said to be in existence ; some of 
 them are printed on vellum. Of the known remaining copies, 
 ten are in England, there being a copy in the libraries of 
 Oxford, Edinburgh, and London, and seven in the collections 
 of different noblemen. The vellum copy has been sold as 
 high as $2,500. Thus, as if to mark the noblest purpose 
 to which the art could ever be applied, the first book
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 25 
 
 printed with cut metal types was the Bible, in 1444- 
 1460. 
 
 Faust displaced Gutenberg from the partnership in 1455, 
 and subsequently carried on the business with Schceffer ; 
 one of their first works was a Psalter, which appeared in 1451. 
 Faust is supposed to have died of the plague in 1466. After 
 his death, Schceffer had the meanness to arrogate to his family 
 the entire invention of the art of printing and succeeded so 
 far as to obtain from the Emperor Maximilian some lucrative 
 privileges authenticating his pretensions. By this act of the 
 Emperor, Gutenberg was robbed of his deserved reputation 
 his discoveries being attributed to his rival, and he regarded 
 as a pretender. He was dead, however, before Schoeffer dared 
 advance his claim. Upon quitting his partners, he had estab 
 lished a printing press at Mentz, under the patronage of Dr. 
 Conrad Humbracht, who advanced the necessary funds. In 
 1460, he printed the great Latin dictionary, Catholicon Jo- 
 hatmis de Balbus. In 1465, he was attached to the Count 
 Adolphus, of Nassau ; and is supposed to have died in 1468. 
 
 The Dutch have disputed with the Germans the honor 
 of the invention of printing, claiming it in behalf of Laurence 
 Coster, a citizen of Haarlem. Their claim will not, however, 
 bear investigation, and vanishes beneath the scrutiny to which 
 it has been subjected by rigid inquiries. 
 
 After these pioneer printers had dissolved partnership, in 
 a few years the business began to expand itself to such an 
 extent that, in 1530, there were upwards of 200 printing- 
 presses in Europe. 
 
 Gutenberg at first took impressions from his types by fas 
 tening them upon a table coloring them with writing-ink 
 spreading the paper over them, and pressing it with a rubber 
 of horn. 
 
 Faust invented printing-ink, and Gutenberg constructed a 
 rude printing-press. Iron presses were earliest employed by 
 Lord Stanhope. 
 
 2
 
 26 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Between the years 1467 and 1415, printing-offices were 
 opened at Cologne, Augsburg, Nuremberg, and Lubec. Monks, 
 called " Brothers of common life," founded printing establish 
 ments at Brussels and Louvain, in Belgium. In the year 
 1467, a press was transported to Rome ; some years after 
 wards, to Venice, Milan, and Naples. The printing art came 
 to Paris in 1469. It met with obstacles on the part of 
 copyists, who feared to lose their means of subsistence ; bat 
 the king, Louis XI., protected the printers. 
 
 The art was conveyed from Haarlem to England in 1468, 
 and by Bourchier, Archbishop of Canterbury. This prelate 
 sent to Haarlem, Turner, master of the robes, and a mer 
 chant named William Caxton, to learn the art. Caxton pre 
 vailed with Corseilles to come over to Oxford, and there set 
 up a press. But before he left the continent, he translated 
 from the French, and in the year 1471 published at Cologne, 
 the first book ever printed in the English language, entitled, 
 The Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye. "An imperfect copy 
 of this work," says Duppa, in his notes to Johnson s Jour 
 nal of a Tour to Wales, " was put up to sale in 1812, when 
 there was a competition amongst men eminent for learning, 
 rank and fortune ; and, according to their estimation of its 
 value, it was sold for the sum of 1,060 10s." In the 
 year 1474 (having in the meantime returned to England), he 
 published the first book ever printed in England. It was enti 
 tled, " The Game and Playe of the Chesse : Translated out of 
 the Frenche, and emprynted by me William Caxtou. Fynysshid 
 the last day of Marche, the yer of our Lord God a thousand 
 four hondred, Ixxiiij." 
 
 Caxton, who died at the age of 81, in 1491, and who, in 
 addition to having had the honor of introducing into England 
 the "divine art" fitly styled " ars artium omnium conserva- 
 trix" was an eminent instance of the successful cultivation 
 of letters, combined with mechanical pursuits. Amidst the 
 onerous charge of an extensive printing-office in one of the
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 27 
 
 chapelries of Westminster Abbey, containing twenty-four 
 presses, with about a hundred workmen, this indefatigable man 
 actually gave to the world no fewer than five thousand closely 
 printed folio pages from his own pen, consisting chiefly of 
 translations from the French, or the stock of his own vernacu 
 lar literature. Several of his works have subsequently passed 
 through successive editions, and about sixty of his books 
 still exist. His just estimate of Chaucer, which he first 
 printed, evinces his uncommon critical acumen. On more 
 accounts than one, therefore, may Caxton be fitly styled the 
 father of the English press. The well-known names of Pyn- 
 son, who died 1529, Wynkin de Worde, in 1534, and Wyer, 
 in 1542, although justly celebrated for the improvements they 
 effected in the typographic art, the former having first con 
 structed and introduced into use the Roman letters, claim a 
 passing mention. 
 
 Printing hitherto had been for the most part in Latin ; 
 but the Italians in 1480 began to print with Greek and He 
 brew types, and they were the first to use these. 
 
 In the sixteenth century, according to Dr. Gregory, 
 there appeared various editions of books in Syriac, Arabic, 
 Persian, Armenian, Coptic or Egyptian, characters. 
 
 Anthony Kobnrger, of Nuremburgh, was a person eminent 
 for his learning as well as for his elegance in printing. 
 He was styled the prince of printers, and was likewise a very 
 extensive bookseller. Besides a spacious warehouse at Lyons, 
 he had agents in every important city in Christendom, 
 and kept sixteen open shops, with a vast number of ware 
 houses. He printed thirteen editions of the Bible in folio, 
 which are esteemed as extremely beautiful specimens of the 
 art ; but his chef-d ceuvre was the German Bible, printed in 
 1483, folio, the most splendid of all the ancient German Bibles, 
 being embellished with many curious wood-cuts. 
 
 About the year 1547, we find honorable mention made of 
 the name of Robert Copland, formerly engaged in Caxton s
 
 28 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 office ; he was a stationer, printer, author, and translator. 
 The " Rose Garland," in Fleet-street, was his well-known resi 
 dence. Anthony Scoloker was another, who translated seve 
 ral works which he printed, one of which, affording no unequi 
 vocal proof, however, of his prophetic skill, was intituled, " A 
 Juste Reckenynge, or Accompte of the Whole Number of the 
 Yeares, from the Beginnynge of the Worlde unto the present 
 Yeare of 1547; a Certayne and Sure. Declaration that the 
 Worlde is at an Ende." Robert Stephens, the renowned 
 Parisian printer and scholar, was his contemporary ; his erudi 
 tion as a critic and etymologist, is sufficiently evinced by his great 
 work, " Dictionarium seu Latiuse Linguae Thesaurus." De Thon, 
 the historian, passed the following merited eulogium upon this 
 distinguished scholar : " Not only France, but the whole Chris 
 tian world, owes more to him than to the greatest warrior 
 that ever extended the possessions of his country ; and 
 greater glory has redounded to Francis I. by the industry 
 alone of Robert Stephens, than from all the illustrious, 
 warlike, and pacific undertakings in which he was engaged. 
 His son and successor was also of great classical attainments, 
 and wrote many learned works." We next come, in the order 
 of date, to the name of John Day, the equally prolific printer 
 and parent having introduced into the world two hundred 
 and forty-five books, and twenty-seven children ! He lived in 
 the neighborhood of Ilolborn Conduit." 
 
 Richard Grafton, of London, was distinguished alike for his 
 erudition, as well as being an eminent printer. He was a 
 linguist, and also the friend of Cranmer and Lord Cromwell. 
 Grafton lived in the house of the Grey Friars, since known as 
 Christ s Hospital. 
 
 His first work was the English Bible, printed abroad in 
 1535, which he presented to Archbishop Cranmer and Lord 
 Cromwell. 
 
 Thoresby mentions the Xew Testament printed at Paris by 
 Bishop Bonner s means. In November, 1539, the king, by his
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 29 
 
 letters patent, " directed to all and singular printers and book 
 sellers within this his realm," &c., appointed the Lord Crom 
 well, keeper of his privy seal, to take special care and charge 
 " that no manner of person or persons within his realm shall 
 enterprise, attempt, or set in print any Bible in the English 
 tongue, of any manner of volume, during the space of five years 
 next ensuing the date thereof, but only all such as shall be 
 deputed, assigned, and admitted by the said Lord Cromwell." 
 Accordingly, it appears, by the Bibles printed this very year, 
 his lordship assigned others besides Grafton and Whitchurch, 
 as John Biddel, Thomas Berthelet, etc., to print Bibles in the 
 English tongue. 
 
 The first of these, printed this year, was a Bible in large 
 folio, with the following title : " The Byble in Englyshe, that 
 is to say, the Content of all the Holie Scripture bothe of .the 
 Olde and Xewe Testament, truely translated after the Yeryte 
 of the Hebrue and Greke Textes, by the dylygent Studye 
 of dyuerse excellent learned men, expert in the forsayde 
 tonges. 
 
 " Prynted by Richard Graftou and Edward Whitchurch, 
 " Cum priuilegio ad imprimendum solum. 1539." 
 
 Grafton was in so much favor, that we find, in Rymer s 
 Ftedera, a patent dated January 28, 1543, as follows : 
 
 " Pro divino sercirio, de libris imprimendis." 
 
 In 1545, he printed King Henry YIII. s Primer, both in 
 Latin and English, with red and black ink, for which he had a 
 patent, that is inserted at the end, expressed in much the same 
 words as the preceding one of 1543. 
 
 In the first year of Edward VI., Grafton was favored with 
 a special patent, granted to him for the sole printing of all the 
 Statute Books. This is the first patent that is taken notice
 
 30 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 of by that diligent and accurate antiquarian, Sir William 
 Dugdale. 
 
 An eminent printer was Christopher Plantin, of Antwerp, 
 who lived in the latter part of the sixteenth century. " I 
 am well aware," says his biographer, that many illustrious 
 men have flourished as printers, such as the Aldi of Italy, 
 the Frobens from Germany, and the Stephenses from France ; 
 but these were all eclipsed in the single name of Plantin : if 
 these," he continues, " were the stars of their own hemispheres 
 he was the Sun, not of Antwerp merely, nor Belgium, but 
 the world !" His offices at Antwerp, Germany, and France 
 seem to have been established upon the most magnificent scale, 
 and, like one of his great predecessors, Stephens, he indulged 
 himself in the luxury of silver types. At one time, he is 
 reported to have paid to his proof-readers and compositors no 
 less than one hundred golden crowns per diem, no equivocal 
 evidence of the extent of his operations. lie also retained, not 
 only in his friendship, but in his employ, a host of the literary 
 men of his day, among the number the renowned De Thou. 
 His chef-d oeuvre which has been styled the eighth wonder 
 of the world was his Biblia Polyglotta, in eight folio volumes, 
 copies of which, not being now rare, produce no extraordinary 
 sums at auction. 
 
 Then we have the no less illustrious names of Francis 
 Raphelengius, the celebrated scholar, and printer to the Uni 
 versity of Leyden ; and Louis Elzevir, of the same place (temp. 
 1595 1616), the founder of the most learned family of printers 
 that ever adorned the republic of letters. Elzevir, is said to 
 have been the first who observed the distinction between the use of 
 the consonant v, and the vowel u (which had been recommended 
 by Ramus and other writers long before, but never regarded), 
 as also the vowel i from the consonant j. Aldus Manutius, with 
 whom terminated a family of printers scarcely less distin 
 guished in the literary history of their times, extending to 
 upwards of a century, was grandson to the celebrated Aldus.
 
 BOOK- CRAFT. 31 
 
 His extraordinary precocity was displayed by the successful 
 publication of a production from his own pen in his eleventh 
 year ; and his great work, De Veterum Notarum Explanations, 
 has not only immortalized his name, but has been long since 
 acknowledged as a standard for reference by the learned. In 
 the reign of the second Charles, we find the name of John 
 Ogilby, geographical printer to the Court, and noted as having 
 written some books, including a pompous account of the coro 
 nation of that monarch, which he was appointed to write, in 
 1661. He also published a magnificent Bible, with illustra 
 tions, for which he was remunerated by the British Parliament. 
 Towards the close of the seventeenth century, Palliot, the 
 historiographer, printer, and bookseller to the King of France, 
 was also highly distinguished as a genealogist. As a proof of 
 his untiring perseverance and industry, it is recorded that he 
 left, at his decease, thirteen volumes of MSS., in addition to 
 the five folios which he had already published, the plates of 
 which were likewise executed by his own hands. Contempo 
 rary with him, lived Rothscholtz, the bookseller, of Nuremberg, 
 whose name is distinguished in the world of letters by his great 
 work, in two volumes quarto, entitled, A Short Essay towards 
 an Ancient and Modern History of Booksellers. 
 
 In early times, bookselling and printing were not only often 
 combined, but, in some instances, it appears, authorship also 
 was united with these several branches of handicraft. 
 
 Numerous instances attest that a natural and intimate con 
 nection subsists between printing and knowledge, and that 
 printers have themselves contributed by their genius to adorn 
 the annals of their age : rising from the servile labors of the 
 press to eminent distinction, and diffusing the light of science 
 even in the darkest times. Bayle speaks of one who composed 
 and printed a work simultaneously, setting up the types with 
 his hands, as fast as his brain concocted his sentences, without 
 the intervention of manuscript corrections. 
 
 Lackington, the well-known bookseller, insists that there is
 
 32 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 an affinity between the two pursuits. He writes : "among all 
 the schools where a knowledge of mankind may be acquired, I 
 know of none equal to that of a bookseller s shop, where, if 
 any one have any taste for literature, he may be said to feed 
 his mind, as cooks and butchers wives get fat by the smell of 
 meat." 
 
 It cannot be denied, however, that there are numerous 
 exceptions to this supposed rule ; for the instances of eminent 
 printers and booksellers we have presented, are from the many 
 whose commerce with literature seemed to have awakened little 
 or no sympathy with its pleasures, its pains, or its pursuit. 
 The remark is not less applicable to our own times. 
 
 Perhaps the most curious instance that ever occurred of an 
 author-publisher, if we may venture so to style him, was that 
 of an individual well known, years since, in the streets of 
 London, who was no less remarkable for the novel method he 
 adopted for displaying his productions before the world, even 
 without the aid of the press, than as presenting the singular 
 anomaly of writer and publisher combined, giving to the public 
 his labors anonymously. How often have we seen him in our 
 boyish peregrinations, and lingered to gaze on his ingenious 
 performances. The " mammoth sheets " of our own day, stu 
 pendous as they are, shrink into a paltry insignificance as we 
 trace out in mental vision the broad superficies of the former. 
 Nor was the literary department the only feature that exhi 
 bited the skill of this luminous writer ; he united within him 
 self the artist also, equally excelling in design, engraving, and 
 chirography. A black s head, with a ring through his nose, 
 and a group of fish, were portrayed upon the pavement with 
 inimitable fidelity. This singular genius, who used to fix his 
 location wherever the pavement was sufficiently smooth, 
 was a cripple, and it was amusing to observe, if among 
 the admiring crowd, any inquisitive little urchin happened to 
 encroach too closely on his prescribed limits, the implement 
 which supplied to him the lack of limbs, was made the sum-
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 33 
 
 rnary instrument to visit upon the shins of the offender the 
 penalty of his trespass. His writing was exceedingly well exe 
 cuted, and bis poetic lucubrations were generally no less admi 
 rably pointed we regret that our recollection supplies us with 
 no more than the following specimen : 
 
 " Let no rude footsteps on this pavement tread, 
 For know, these very flags to me are bread ! 
 Oh, spare a penny, or indeed tis plain, 
 The very stones themselves cry out in vain !" 
 
 This hapless votary of the muse has passed away ; and 
 though unchronicled in any " Curiosities of Literature," we 
 trust we have said enough to rescue his memory non omnis 
 moriar ! from utter annihilation. 
 
 Craving indulgence for the digression into which the recur 
 rence of an early association has beguiled us, we retrace our 
 steps, while we solicit the reader to accompany us adown the 
 stream of time a few centuries back. In the olden time, prior 
 to the era of printing, the MSS. of authors were obliged to be 
 subjected to the ordeal of critical censorship, previous to their 
 being allowed public perusal ; their works being required to be 
 read over before the Universities, for three successive days, or 
 by appointed judges ; when, if approved, copies were allowed 
 to be executed by the monks, scribes, and illuminators. 
 
 Even in the classical days of Greece and Rome, we find a 
 trade carried on in books ; those works most in demand being 
 multiplied by the scribes and copyists. An exclusive traffic in 
 the MSS. of those days seems to have been carried on along 
 the shores of the Mediterranean, and the Greek colonies of 
 the Euxine. 
 
 During the middle ages, the booksellers were styled Statio- 
 narii at the Universities of Paris and Bologna ; they used to 
 sell and loan MSS. This was the commencement of the book 
 selling business. A species of literary censorship, it appears, 
 was first established at Paris, in 1342, when a license from the 
 
 2*
 
 34 SALAD FOK THR SOCIAL. 
 
 University was requisite previously to engaging in such busi 
 ness. The booksellers were, in fact, regularly matriculated by 
 entry on its roll, and considered as its officers ; the prices of 
 all books were also fixed according to the tariff of four sworn 
 booksellers, by the institution ; a fine was imposed for selling 
 an imperfect copy of a work, and a catalogue, with the prices 
 annexed, was further required to be always kept in the shops. 
 This censorship was afterwards invested in the person of Ber- 
 thold, Archbishop of Mentz, in 1486, and again renewed with 
 greater vigor, with respect to books, by the Council of Trent, 
 in 1546, being subsequently enforced by the popes, clown to 
 1563, by whom several Indices Librorum Prohibitorum, were 
 issued. In France the censorship was vested in the Chancel 
 lor ; in England it was exercised by the well-known Star- 
 Chamber; and after the abolition of that court, by Parliament 
 itself ; it was abolished in England about 1694, although it 
 still continues iu force, we believe, in several of the Continen 
 tal States. 
 
 The first bookseller, so called, on record was Faustus. He 
 is said to have carried his books for sale to the monasteries in 
 France and elsewhere ; and the first bookseller who purchased 
 MSS. for publication, without possessing a press of his own, 
 was John Otto, of Nuremberg (1516). 
 
 Resuming our notices of eminent bibliopoles, the next name 
 we find in the order of date is that of John Dunton (temp. 
 1659 1733). Of his literary performances, his Life and 
 Errors is the best known. His critical acumen, or good for 
 tune, were certainly not much at fault ; for it is recorded, that 
 of the 600 works which he published, only seven proved unsuc 
 cessful. 
 
 Chiswell, styled for pre-eminence the metropolitan bookseller 
 of England, and whose shrewdness and wit stood the test so 
 admirably, that he is reported never to have issued a bad book, 
 was also, at about the same period, an author of some consi 
 deration. Contemporary with him, we find the name of the
 
 BOOK-CKAFT. 35 
 
 learned linguist and bibliopolist Samuel Smith, the appointed 
 bookseller to the Royal Society ; and Thomas Guy, the 
 founder of "Guy s Hospital" (whose munificence and philan 
 thropy have immortalized his name, and often invoked the 
 blessing of suffering humanity), was originally, it will be remem 
 bered, a bookseller. 
 
 John Bagford, an industrious antiquarian bookseller, who 
 lived to the early part of the eighteenth century, was the 
 author of the Collectanea, bearing his name, contained in the 
 Harleian MSS. of the British Museum. 
 
 The Tonsons were a race of booksellers who did honor to 
 their profession for integrity, and by their encouragement of 
 authors. Malone published several letters from Dryden to 
 Tonson, and Tonson to Dryden. Touson displays the trades 
 man, acknowledging the receipt of the Translations of Ovid, 
 which he had received for the third Miscellany, with which he 
 was pleased, but not with the price, having only one thousand 
 four hundred and forty-six lines for fifty guineas, when he 
 expected to have had one thousand five hundred and eighteen 
 lines for forty guineas ; adding that he had a better bargain 
 with Juvenal, which is reckoned not so easy to translate as 
 Ovid. Most of the other letters relate to the translation 
 of Virgil, and contain repeated acknowledgments of Tonson s 
 kind attentions. "I thank you heartily," he says, "for the 
 sherry ; it was the best of the kind I ever drank." The 
 current coin was at that period wretchedly debased. In 
 one letter Dryden says, " I expect forty pounds in good silver, 
 not such as I had formerly. I am not obliged to take gold, 
 neither will I, nor stay for it above four and twenty hours 
 after it is due." In 1698, when Dryden published his Fables, 
 Tonson agreed to give him two hundred and sixty-eight 
 pounds for ten thousand verses ; and to complete the full 
 number of lines stipulated, he gave the bookseller the Epistle 
 to his Cousin, and the celebrated Ode. 
 
 Lintot, Pope s publisher, was also an author : not to
 
 36 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 speak of Miller, Evans, Griersson, Motte, and Ruddiman, the 
 last-named, a man of profound attainments as a grammarian and 
 critic ; or Richardson, the author of " Sir Charles Grandison," 
 and other popular works, \vh.ich have procured for him the title 
 of the English Rousseau ; and Alexander Crnden, the re 
 nowned compiler of the " Concordance to- the Sacred Script 
 ures," whose stupendous labors turned him mad. A curious 
 anecdote is related of him ; one evening having prepared an 
 excellent supper for some friends, whom he had invited to par 
 take of a favorite dish of roast turkey, no sooner had Mr. Cru- 
 den arrived and made his appearance in the room, heated with 
 walking, than before the covers could be removed, while his 
 guests were eagerly anticipating their pleasurable repast, up 
 walked the distinguished host, and advancing to the smoking 
 joint in question, sans ceremonie pushed back his wig, and with 
 both hands plunged in the gravy, began to wash his head and 
 face over the bird, to the horror and dismay of the astonished 
 group ! 
 
 John Buckley, who lived to about 1746, was a learned lin 
 guist ; and Paterson, his contemporary, was also author of 
 many works, as well as a book-auctioneer ; he was indeed one 
 of the most prominent bibliopoles of his age. 
 
 About the same date, we meet with the name of Harris, 
 the author of Lexicon Ttchnicum. Chambers 1 Cyclopaedia, was 
 the basis of Dr. Rees voluminous work, which extended to 
 forty volumes, quarto. This celebrated work was styled "the 
 pride of booksellers, and the honor of the English nation." 
 Rees is represented as a man equally indefatigable, per 
 spicacious, and observant. He was a Quaker, a member of 
 Gray s Inn, and at his demise, which occurred at Canonbury 
 House, Islington, a relic of the times of Elizabeth, he was 
 interred within the cloisters of Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Hutton, of Birmingham, who has been not inaptly styled 
 the English Franklin, from the very depths of obscurity and
 
 BOOK -CRAFT. 37 
 
 poverty, fought his way single-handed to wealth and literary 
 eminence. His " History of Birmingham " was followed by 
 other productions, including his interesting auto-biography. 
 His literary labors were concluded in 1811, by a "Trip to 
 Coatham," a watering-place in Yorkshire, written in his eighty- 
 sixth year, in which he thus takes leave of his readers : " As 
 it is perhaps the last time I shall appear before the world as 
 an author, I may be allowed the liberty of exhibiting my per 
 formances in that character. I took up my pen, and that with 
 fear and trembling, at the advanced age of fifty-six, a period 
 when most would lay it down. I drove the quill thirty years, 
 during which time I wrote and published fourteen books." 
 
 We might refer to the names of Rushton, of Liverpool, 
 M Creery, Debrett, Allan Ramsay, the poet, Hansard, Bul- 
 iner, Boydell, Griffiths, Harrison, and many others we stay 
 not to enumerate. Worrall, of Bell Yard, who died 1771, 
 was a well-known author-bookseller, as well as the eccentric 
 Andrew Brice, of Exeter, and Sir James Hodges, who lived 
 at the sign of the Looking-Glass, on London Bridge. The 
 names should not be omitted of Faulkner, Gent, Goadby, and 
 also Smellie, the first edition of whose work on philosophy, 
 yielded him one thousand guineas, and a revenue of fame. 
 Thomas Osborne, of Gray s Inn, was also a very eminent 
 bookseller, although, if we are to decide with Dr. Dibdin, not 
 eminent in philological attainments. Boswell relates an amus 
 ing circumstance connected with the professional career of this 
 worthy bibliopole, who, it is said, was inclined to assume an 
 authoritative air in his business intercourse. One day 
 Johnson happening to encounter a similar exhibition of tem 
 per, the Doctor became so exasperated, that he actually 
 knocked Osborne down in his shop with a folio, and put his 
 foot upon his neck ; and when remonstrated with on such sum 
 mary proceeding, he coolly replied, " Sir, he was impertinent 
 to me, and I beat him." 
 
 Paternoster Row, the great literary emporium of the world,
 
 38 SALAD FORTH*: SOCIAL. 
 
 did not assume any importance till the reign of Queen Anne, 
 when the booksellers began to forsake their former principal 
 mart, Little Britain,* which had become the resort of all the 
 bibliopoles about the time of the renowned John Day, termi 
 nating with the equally celebrated Ballard. In earlier times 
 Paternoster Row seems to have been more noted for mercers, 
 lacemen, and haberdashers, for a newspaper periodical of 1707, 
 adds to the list, " the sempstresses of Paternoster Row." We 
 find, however, the record of a solitary member of the craft, 
 one Denham, who lived then and there, at the sign of the Star, 
 as early as 1564, and whose significant motto ran as follows : 
 
 " Os homini sublime dedit." 
 
 There also dwelt turners of beads, and they were called Pater 
 noster makers, from which, of course, this noted place origin 
 ally derived its name. It is also worthy of notice, that the 
 parish of St. Bride has been, from the days of Pynson, in 
 1500, down to the days of Strahan, the location of the " King s 
 Printer ;" while the number of those carrying on the profes 
 sion in this vicinity are singularly numerous, and far beyond 
 the average of any other parish in England, or perhaps the 
 world ; the site seems to have become, from its first introduc 
 tion, the Alma Mater of the printers. Alex. Hogg, called the 
 king of Puffers, was moreover reputed a man of considerable 
 learning. He published numerous standard works in the serial 
 form, and was the first to introduce that convenient, and, for 
 the spread of literature, important mode of publication. He 
 seems to have exhausted the vocabularies of superlatives, to 
 express the beauty, elegance, and magnificence of his editions. 
 He also was reputed to possess singular tact in revivifying a 
 dull book by re-christening it, and otherwise metamorphosing 
 
 * Anciently Breton street, from the mansion of the Duke of Bretasrne on that spot, 
 in more modern times became the " Paternoster Row " of the booksellers ; and a news 
 paper of 1664 states them to have published here within four years, 464 pamphlets. 
 Here lived Rawlinson (" Tom Folio" of The Taller, No. 153), who stuffed four cham 
 bers in Gray s Inn so full, that his bed was removed into the passage.
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 39 
 
 its contents when its sale, under its original condition, had 
 ceased. 
 
 Among our notices of eminent bibliopolists we must not 
 omit the name of Andrew Millar, or the laconic missives that 
 passed between him and Dr. Johnson although the incident 
 may be already familiar to the reader. 
 
 The great lexicographer having wearied the expectation of 
 the trade for his long promised work, and no less the patience 
 of his publisher, who had already advanced him, in various 
 sums, the amount of 1,500, he was induced, on receipt of the 
 concluding sheet of his Dictionary, to send to the doctor the 
 following : " A. Millar sends his compliments to Mr. Samuel 
 Johnson, with money for the last sheet of copy of Dictionary, 
 and thanks God he has done with him." To which our author 
 replied, " Samuel Johnson returns compliments to Mr. Andrew 
 Millar, and is very glad to find (as he does by his note), that 
 Mr. A. M. has the grace to thank God for anything." 
 
 Honorable mention also should be made, of a name which 
 has never, perhaps, been eclipsed in the annals of book-craft. 
 We refer to that of Xicholls, whose " Literary Anecdotes, 1 
 as well as his numerous other works, will link his memory to 
 many a distant year, and whose otherwise immense industry 
 and labors, as printer, compiler, and publisher, would scarce 
 require the aid of " Sylvanus Urban " to immortalize his name. 
 The mantle of the sire has descended upon the son, who has 
 published several historical works, and among others, an 
 " Account of the Guildhall, London," historical notices of 
 "Fonthill Abbey," &c. Sotheby, the celebrated book-auc 
 tioneer of London, whose establishment, originally founded by 
 Baker (his great uncle), in 1744, was one of the earliest 
 that ever existed in London. He was a man of extensive 
 learning and literary acquirements, and had been many years 
 occupied in collecting materials for an elaborate work on the 
 "Early History of Printing." He is favorably known to the 
 literary world by his interesting work, in folio, on the " Hand-
 
 40 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 writing of Melanchthon and Luther." Davy of Devonshire, 
 once a bookseller of eminence, was afterwards distinguished for 
 his attainments in biblical literature, and will be long remem 
 bered by his voluminous " System of Divinity in a series of 
 Sermons," comprising 26 vols. 8vo. John Gough. of Dublin, 
 bookseller, was also author of " A Tour in Ireland," " History 
 of Quakers, 1 and other works of note. William Harrod was a 
 worthy but eccentric bookseller, whose pen produced several 
 topographical works. Samuel Rosseau, who, when an appren 
 tice to Nicholls, used to collect old epitaphs, it is said actually 
 taught himself in the intervals of business, Latin, Greek, He 
 brew, Syriac, Persian and Arabic, as well as two or three of 
 the modern languages; besides having edited, in after life, several 
 useful and popular works on elementary education. To name 
 Dodsley, would prove almost his sufficient eulogy ; his valua 
 ble series of Annual Registers," and collected edition of 
 " Old Plays," being literary performances sufficient to form 
 a monument to his memory. Nicholson, of Worcester, is 
 another member of the bookselling fraternity, who has 
 added to the stores of literature ; and the name of Constable, 
 of Edinburgh, whose literary taste and great bibliogra 
 phical knowledge, independently of his having been the 
 originator of the Edinburgh Review, sufficiently entitle him to 
 be noticed among the class. Ballantyne, the publisher and 
 confidant of Sir Walter Scott, who was the sprightly author 
 of the " Widow s Lodgings," and other works in the depart 
 ment of elegant literature, in addition to his vast fund of anec 
 dote, is equally entitled to distinction ; as well as Blackwood, 
 for seventeen years the editor of the inimitable periodical tluit 
 still retains his name. James Lackington the well-known 
 . London bookseller may be said to have established his claim 
 to our notice from the publication of his " Auto-biography." 
 From the shades of obscurity, he was indebted to thriftiness 
 and parsimony, no less than to his untiring zeal and exer 
 tions, for his ultimate distinction. Although we may not
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 41 
 
 assign to his character any literary eminence, his career was 
 marked by singular eccentricity ; his spacious establishment 
 in Finsbury Square, around which it is said that he actu 
 ally drove a coach-and-four, contained an immense collection 
 of books. Among his many expedients to excite notoriety, 
 was the publication of an advertisement, stating that his coach 
 house in Old Street had been robbed of 10,000 volumes, con 
 sisting chiefly of Dr. Watts " Psalms and Hymns," a manoeu 
 vre that answered the two-fold purpose of letting the world 
 know that he kept a coach, and that even so large a quantity 
 of books could scarce be missed from his collection. He also had 
 the vanity to hoist a flag at the top of his house as a signal, 
 whenever he arrived from his country-seat at Merton. His 
 vanity was certainly very amusing, and excusable when we con 
 sider the disadvantages of his humble origin. At ten years 
 old he commenced crying apple-pies in the streets, so that, as 
 he himself intimates, he soon began to make a noise in the 
 world. His success in this his first essay, induced speedily the 
 exchange of tarts for books ; thus he commenced his business 
 as a bookseller, which one year yielded him a profit of 5,000. 
 Here we might mention the name of John Trusler, who was 
 distinguished as a doctor, parson, printer, and author ; 
 having fabricated many useful books, and amongst others, an 
 "Essay on the Rights of Literary Property" a subject, 
 even at the present day, we regret to find, so very imper 
 fectly understood among the mass of those to whose enjoy 
 ments it is made to yield so large a contribution. Bavies, 
 in 1817, compiled and published several amusing bibliographic 
 works, one entitled, An Olio of Bibliographical and Literary 
 Anecdote and Memoranda, and A Life of Garrick, which 
 went through several editions. Richard Beatniffe, bookseller, 
 of Norwich, wrote a Tour through Norfolk, and other works. 
 Parkhurst (Johnson s friend) was of distinguished repute, and 
 occupied many years in preparing a Talmudic Lexicon ! Up- 
 ham, of Exeter, also translated sacred books of the Buddhists.
 
 42 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Dr. William Russell, who died at the close of the last cen 
 tury, the well-known author of the History of Modern Europe, 
 was originally apprenticed to a bookseller ; a few years after 
 which, he was engaged as a corrector of the press, and sub 
 sequently was enabled to devote himself to authorship. His 
 historical works were the product of his maturer years. 
 Whiston, the celebrated translator of Josephus, was also in 
 his early days a bookseller. The same might be remarked of 
 the renowned naturalist, Smellie, equally celebrated as having 
 produced the best edition of Terence. He was, moreover, the 
 antagonist of Hume, the refutation of whose atheistical opin 
 ions became the theme of his pen. Walwyn was a bard- 
 bookseller of eminence, " a worthy associate of Dryden." 
 Watton, who kept a shop near St. Dunstan s many years, 
 published and compiled several excellent works among them 
 the earliest history we possess of Baronets, occupying five 
 octavo volumes. Godwin, whose Caleb Williams alone is 
 sufficient to preserve his name from oblivion, was for a consid 
 erable time a bookseller, and ushered many books of value 
 into tangible existence. Dr. Olinthus Gregory also was once 
 a bookseller at Cambridge, and a teacher of mathematics 
 at the same time. 
 
 John Lander, brother of the African traveller, was origin 
 ally a bookseller. Devoting his leisure to literary pursuits, 
 and his mind being inspired with a love of enterprise, he not 
 only rendered important services to physical science, by the 
 discovery of a problem which had long baffled the literati of 
 Europe, and which has placed his name among the proudest in 
 the annals of science, but he bequeathed to the world one of 
 the mo st delightful and interesting narratives of travel in the 
 English language. Sir Richard Phillips, of whose elementary 
 writings, it is enough commendation to remark that they wefe 
 sufficiently productive to become the adequate support of his 
 declining years, was not only the first publisher to introduce a 
 reduction in the price of books, but the originator of a fund
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 43 
 
 for oppressed debtors two things that go to his glory. In 
 the same category was Booth, of London, whose knowledge of 
 books, critical, not titulary, rendered him eminently distin 
 guished ; his collection was exceedingly rare and extensive. 
 His literary capabilities were so far respected by Malone, the 
 commentator of Shakespeare, that he consigned to him the 
 onerous task of editing and arranging the annotations and 
 remarks for his edition of the great dramatist. He also edited 
 and compiled several documents for his Account of the Battle 
 of Waterloo, two volumes quarto, which passed through the 
 unprecedented number of nine editions in less than two years. 
 
 The race of author-booksellers, far from being extinct, is 
 not less flourishing at the present day than it has been at 
 any former period while it embraces not a few of those 
 who are emulous of the classic honors of their sires, and 
 whose genius and labors will supply a worthy sequel to the 
 past, and add ?, new lustre to the bibliographic history of the 
 nineteenth century. We will commence with noticing the son 
 of the senior member of one of the most distinguished book 
 selling houses in the British metropolis we refer to the Long 
 mans. William Longman has distinguished himself in the 
 science of entomology, a subject that has already successfully 
 engaged his pen. William Wood, the natural history book 
 seller, is undoubtedly deserving a place among the scientific 
 writers of the day, which his esteemed work, Zoography, or 
 the Beauties of Nature Displayed, in three large volumes, 
 sufficiently attests. He is author of some four or five other 
 important works, as well as editor of the beautiful edition of 
 Buffon, in twenty volumes octavo, and contributor of several 
 interesting papers to the Philosophical Transactions* 
 
 Moxon, in early lift-, published Christmas, a poem, and a vol 
 ume of Sonnets, which were so favorably noticed by Rogers, the 
 poet, that a friendship ensued, which has since ripened with 
 
 * The principal publishers of London are Longman & Co., Uivingtons, Whittaker & 
 Co., Hamilton & Co., Simpkin & Co., Smith, Elder & Co., and at the " West Bad," Mur-
 
 44 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 its growth, and contributed very materially to the success of 
 this enterprising and accomplished publisher. To the classical 
 reader we need only mention the name of A. J. Yalpy, whose 
 edition of the Variorum Classics, extended to 161 vols., Svo., 
 to prove his cultivated taste and liberality of enterprise. 
 M Cray has translated .and published some beautiful Lyrics 
 from the German ; William Clarke, originally a bookseller, 
 gave to the antiquary an exceedingly curious and interesting 
 account of libraries, under the name of Repertariiim Biblio- 
 graphicum; and Rodd was the translator of several volumes 
 from the Spanish. One of the best bibliographers . was 
 R. H. Evans, the auctioneer and bookseller of Pall-Mail ; his 
 namesake, J. Evans, acted as editor in the instance of Aikiu s 
 Essays ; Dolby, bookseller, gave to the public a work of 
 ingenuity and labor, The Skakspearian Dictionary; and Chris 
 tie, the auctioneer, has also produced four abstruse works, on 
 the taste and literature of the ancient Greeks, which he 
 compiled during the intervals of his business occupation ; 
 Griffith, the bookseller, compiled a catalogue of ancient and 
 modern poetry, entitled Bibliographia, Anglo-Podica ; and Dr. 
 Roller and Mr. Bach were both translators and German 
 critics, as well as booksellers. Another conspicuous member 
 of the class was Cochrane, who was for some time an eminent 
 bookseller, and the able and discriminating editor of the For- 
 eiyn Quarterly Review, for seven years. He was also selected 
 by the trustees to draw up the catalogue of Sir Walter Scott s 
 choice and valuable library at Abbottsford a most delightful 
 labor of love ; and on the formation of the London Library, 
 was, among a host of competitors, unanimously elected to the 
 offices of librarian and secretary. 
 
 We might also mention Stewart, the eminent linguist, and 
 
 ray, Bentley, Saunders & Otlcy, Hatchard, Nisbett, Bohn, Moxon, and although now 
 deceased, we should not omit the well-known publisher of the Aldine edition of the 
 Poets Pickering. Many others might be named, among them Tegg, Routledge, Bogue, 
 Chapman & Hall, Weale, &c.
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 45 
 
 known as the skillful compiler of the celebrated catalogue of 
 Miss Currer s library, which he embellished by drawings from 
 his own pencil. If any one is sceptical enough, after what has 
 been adduced to the contrary, to assert that the bookselling 
 and printing business has been wanting ill literary distinction, 
 we pity his want of candor, while we further refer him to 
 such names as the following : Arrowsmith, the celebrated 
 map-publisher, and author of Ancient and Modern Geography, 
 as well as several elementary works in geography, some of 
 which, with the former, were used as text-books at Oxford, 
 Cambridge, and Eton ; J. Wilson, editor of the Bibliogra 
 phical, and Retrospective Miscellany, Shakspeariana, &c. ; 
 Atkinson, of Glasgow, possessed, perhaps, as great an 
 acquaintance with Medical Bibliography as any person of his 
 times, as his curious and unique work on that subject 
 proves. One of the leading medical journals of Europe char 
 acterized it as " one of the most remarkable books ever seen 
 uniting the German research of a Plouquet with the ravings 
 of a Rabelais, the humor of Sterne with the satire of Demo- 
 critus, the learning of Burton with the wit of Pindar." 
 It is to be regretted the ingenious author did not live to com 
 plete the whole design. 
 
 Ainsworth, the popular historical novelist, was originally a 
 bookseller with John Ebers, of Bond Street, to whom he 
 afterwards became related by marriage. 
 
 Godwin (author of Caleb Williams, St. Leon, &c.), was 
 once a bookseller in Skinner Street ; Rodd, who kept an 
 extensive establishment for the sale of old books, translated the 
 Spanish Ballads. His shop was the resort of confirmed biblio 
 maniacs. 
 
 Xor should the name of John Murray the friend and 
 publisher of Byron be omitted in this place. It is not our 
 province to remark on the distinguished eminence of this gentle 
 man as a publisher, although in this respect he may unques 
 tionably be entitled to take the highest rank ; but his well-
 
 46 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 known literary abilities and severe critical taste, equally 
 render him conspicuous, as evinced in the immense collection 
 of valuable works which have issued from his establishment. 
 The excellent series of Hand- Socks, are in part, produc 
 tions of his son, the present publisher of that name. 
 
 The name of Talboys, of Oxford, will be remembered by his 
 admirable translation of Adelung s Historical Sketch of San 
 scrit Literature, to which he appended copious bibliographical 
 notices. He was, moreover, the translator of the very erudite 
 volumes of Professor Heeren, of which he is also the pub 
 lisher ; his Bibliotheca Classica and Theclogica, likewise deserve 
 honorable mention for their completeness and excellent scien 
 tific arrangement. 
 
 Hansard, the printer, who wrote Typographia, and another 
 similar work, and who has been also a contributor to the 
 Encyclopedia Britannica, also was of the fraternity ; as well as 
 West, the author of Fifty Years Recollections of a Bookseller. 
 Goodhugh, author of the Library Manual Haas, who trans 
 lated Dr. Krummacher s Elisha, and Zschb kke s History of 
 Switzerland. 
 
 John Russell Smith has rendered himself distinguished by 
 his industry, as well as literary taste. His work on the 
 Bibliography of Kent, Bibliotheca Cantiana, as well as his Bib 
 liographical List of all Works which have been published towards 
 illustrating the Provincial Dialects of England, evince both 
 his untiring antiquarian research and literary zeal. We come 
 next to a name that has become almost a synonym with 
 antiquarian anecdote William Hone, the sale of whose 
 Every Day Book and Year Book (who has not read them?), 
 during the first year of their publication, produced 500. 
 He was originally a bookseller his collected works would 
 probably fill ten or twelve octavos. His political satires 
 had a prodigious sale, upwards of 70,000 copies being dis 
 posed of in a short time. His infidel publications he 
 lived to repudiate, and publicly to recant, in a work
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 47 
 
 entitled his Early Life and Conversion. Henry G. Bohn 
 deserves to be classed among our list ; bis catalogue, contain 
 ing a critical description of 3C 0,000 volumes, in all the lan 
 guages dear to literature, may be ranked among tbe most 
 remarkable productions of the press of any nation. It con 
 tains 2,106 pages, and cost its compiler two thousand guineas 
 and an almost incredible amount of labor. The Chambers, 
 of Edinburgh, editors of the able and valuable works 
 that bear their name, present another noble instance of 
 genius rising superior to all opposing circumstances. They 
 were originally, as intimated, of humble origin now they are 
 among the largest publishers of their age. Their essays are 
 among the choicest of our periodical literature. There is 
 still another name we cannot, in justice, omit to notice : we 
 allude to that of Timperley, whose Encyclopedia of Literary 
 Anecdote discovers curious labor and research. Here, then, we 
 ought to pause in our enumeration of literary booksellers and 
 printers ; although the catalogue might be extended to a much 
 greater length. There are three other names, however, we 
 must not omit, in conclusion. 
 
 Charles Knight, the well-known editor of the Pictorial 
 Shakespeare, of London Illustrated, and other excellent 
 works ; Thomas Miller, once the basket-maker, since poet, 
 novelist, and essayist ; and William Howitt, whose volu 
 minous writings are too well known to require recital 
 form a triple coronal in bibliography ; and the lustre they 
 shed upon the brotherhood of booksellers to which they 
 originally belonged, may well atone for the obliquities, 
 discrepancies, and obtuseness, with which the tongue of 
 scandal has sought to darken the fair escutcheon of its 
 fame. 
 
 The first book ever printed in the Xew World was in the 
 city of Mexico. It was printed in the Spanish language, in 
 the year 1544, and was entitled Dodrina Christiana per eo los
 
 48 SALAD FOK THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Indos. The first publications made in English, in America, 
 were the Freeman s Oath, an Almanac for 1639, nearly a hun 
 dred years after the work published in Mexico. In 1640 was 
 published the first book, entitled the Bay Psalm Book. It 
 was reprinted in England, where it passed through no less than 
 eighteen editions ; the last being issued in 1154. It was no 
 less popular in Scotland, twenty-two editions of it having been 
 published there. Altogether, it is estimated it reached to 
 seventy editions abroad. 
 
 We might mention, with no slight honor, the name of John 
 Foster, a man of great literary attainments, a graduate at 
 Harvard University, and, himself an author. At a later date 
 Matthew Carey, and his son and successor, Henry Carey, both 
 of whom have recorded their names in the literary annals of 
 their country, not to omit the name of an author-bookseller, 
 Peter Parley (Goodrich), whose works are alike appreciated 
 in both hemispheres. 
 
 Isaiah Thomas has written and published a History of Print 
 ing, a work of considerable reputation ; Drake, the antiqua 
 rian bookseller of Boston, besides being a member of several 
 learned societies, was author of the Book of the Indians. 
 
 The first Printing-press set up in America, was " worked " 
 at Cambridge, Massachusetts, in 1639. 
 
 The Rev. Jesse Glover procured this press, by " contributions 
 of friends of learning and religion," in Amsterdam and in Eng 
 land, but died on his passage to the New World. 
 
 Stephen Day was the first printer. In honor of his 
 pioneer position, Government gave him a grant of three 
 hundred acres of land. Among other of his early publi 
 cations were the New Testament, and Baxter s Call, trans 
 lated into the Indian language, by Elliot, the great Mis 
 sionary, and printed at great cost. The title might be 
 recommended, on account of its obscurity and high-sounding 
 character, to some of the writers of books now-a-days. It
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 49 
 
 was Wusku-Wuttesthementum Yul-Lordumun Jesus Christ 
 Nuppoqhwussuaenenmun. * 
 
 The whole Bible was printed in this language in 1663. The 
 nation once speaking it is now extinct. 
 
 Pennsylvania was the second State to encourage printing. 
 William Bradford went to Pennsylvania with William Penn, 
 in 1682, and in 1686 established a printing-press in Philadel 
 phia ; its first issue was an Almanac for 1687 ; it was but a 
 sheet. The first book printed by Bradford was a collection of 
 essays by Francis Bacon. It appeared in 1688, and was 
 called The Temple of Wisdom. 
 
 In 1692, Bradford was induced to establish a printing-press 
 in New York. He received 40 per annum, and " the privilege 
 of printing on his own account." Previous to this time, there 
 had been uo printing done in the Province of Xew York. His 
 first issue in Is ew York, was a proclamation, bearing date of 1692. 
 
 During the latter part of the seventeenth century, Boston 
 contained about forty printers and publishers. The first fruits 
 of the press were devoted to the rights of religion and liberty 
 fitting tribute of the pioneer pilgrims of a great nation for 
 the altar of Freedom. The bookselling business of Boston, 
 half a century ago, was conducted on a very limited scale com 
 pared with present times. The senior publishers of that city 
 are Crocker & Brewster. They began business in 1811. 
 Gould & Lincoln are next in the order of date. Ticknor, 
 Francis, Greene, Little & Brown, with others, form the succes 
 sion. It is believed that the amount invested in the book 
 
 * One long word suggests another the title of a pamphlet (in the possession of the 
 writer), published years ago in London. The title reads: " Chrononhotonlhologos, 
 the most tragical tragedy that ever was tragedized by any company of tragedians." 
 The two first lines of this effusion read 
 
 " Aldeborontiphoacophosnio ! 
 Where left yon ChrononhotoiuhologoB !" 
 
 Wo might name another singular title of a work published in 1661, by Robert Lovell, 
 entitled, " Pamoologicomineralogia ; a complete history of animals and minerals, 
 contains the summe of all authors, Galenical and Chymicall, with the anatomie of 
 man, &c."
 
 50 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 business in Boston alone at the present day, cannot be less 
 than three millions of dollars. Now there are nearly one hun 
 dred booksellers, and over fifty distinct publishers in the 
 American " Athens." 
 
 In New York there are four hundred and forty-four book 
 sellers and one hundred and thirty-three publishers, and in 
 Pennsylvania, four hundred and two of the first and seventy- 
 two of the last. Most of the publishing, and the largest num 
 ber of the booksellers, centre in the three great cities of Bos 
 ton, New York, and Philadelphia, which are the leading pub 
 lishing cities of the country. New York has the most capital 
 invested in the business.* 
 
 In Great Britain, the United States, France, and Germany, 
 the book and publishing business is vast. Great Britain gives 
 to the world more than two thousand five hundred new books, 
 or editions, annually ; while France publishes about six 
 thousand. There are thirteen hundred books published in the 
 United States annually. 
 
 Among modern bibliopoles and printers of Paris, we 
 must name Didot, Plon, Crapelet, Bossange, and Bailliere, 
 chiefly known for his valuable medical publications, who has 
 also a house in New York. The number of booksellers reachee 
 nearly to four hundred ; their business is divided into the clas 
 sical book-trade, the old book-trade, the new publications, and 
 the commission trade. Many journals also enter into the 
 trade : the Revue dts Deux Mondes publishes the works of 
 several eminent authors. 
 
 * Stanford and Swords is the oldest existing publishing-house of New Yorlc. Harper 
 & Brothers (numerically the largest publishers, from whose establishment the best eci- 
 tiong of the Classics have emanated); Apple ons; Putnam (pub isher of Washington 
 Irvlng s works) ; Barnes & Co. ; Scribner ; KedfielJ ; Ivison & Phinney ; Derby ; De Witt 
 & Davenport; Carters; Collins, Woods, Wiley, Sheldon, Lamport & Co., are the pub 
 lishers of New York. In addition, there are several large establishments connected 
 with religious societies, including the Methodist Book Concern. The booksellers and, 
 publishers of Cincinnati, Buffalo, Auburn, and other cities of the West, are rapidly 
 competing with their brothers of the Atlantic cities in the magnitude of their opera 
 tions. In Philadelphia, the more prominent publishers are, Lindsay & Blakiston, 
 Blanchard & Lea, Lippincott A Co., E. H. Butler, Cowperthwait* & Co.
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 51 
 
 X)n the quays, on the Boulevards, near the Louvre, and in a 
 few retired streets, there are more than two hundred second 
 hand booksellers. 
 
 In earlier times, Francis de Bure, a bookseller of Paris, 
 wrote, among others, a work of great research and skill, A 
 Treatise on Scarce and Curious Books, in seven large volumes. 
 The originator of the great work, Encyclopedic Mcthodique, 
 which has extended to above 150 volumes, was M. Panckoucke, 
 a Parisian bookseller. Peter Yander, of Leyden, who died 
 1730, was another eminent instance of an author-bookseller, 
 as his singular work, Galerie du Monde, in 66 folios, sufficiently 
 attests ; and Lascaile, of Holland, was no less celebrated as 
 poet and publisher, having been honored with the poetic crown 
 by the Emperor Leopold ; and even his daughter so largely 
 inherited her father s genius, that she was styled the Dutch 
 Sappho, or tenth muse. 
 
 The renowned publisher, Tauchnitz, of Leipsic, achieves a 
 greet work for the diffusion of literature over continental 
 Europe. His popular series of British Classics alone includes 
 over 300 volumes, of which he annually sells about 150,000 
 copies. His will doubtless become the greatest publishing 
 establishment in the world, if it progresses as it has since 1840, 
 as it is now the largest on the continent of Europe. 
 
 In the sixteenth century, Trithemius died in Germany, after 
 having, from time to time, assembled the literary world to 
 behold the wonder of that age a library of two thousand 
 volumes. And yet, incredible as it may seem, nearly forty 
 years ago the estimate was made, that since the invention of 
 printing, there had been issued from the press of Germany 
 three billions of volumes. 
 
 Next to the desire to know something about the personnel of 
 an author, is the interest with which the public regard that 
 intermediate personage between him and themselves, yclept the 
 publisher. In a subordinate sense, he may justly be considered 
 a member of the literary profession, for he enacts the part of
 
 52 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 agent for the author and his readers ; and if not an indispen 
 sable, he is at least a most important auxiliary in these rela 
 tions. Publishers have, however, not unfrequently been char 
 acterized as selfish ia their pursuits, and alike injurious to the 
 interest of the author, and the commonwealth of literature. 
 This aspersion upon their fair fame is at length fast pass 
 ing away, if indeed it has not already disappeared. Their 
 position in society, as the purveyors of its literary aliment, is 
 at length appreciated. In former times, many a poor, unof 
 fending publisher paid the penalty due to the sins and misde 
 meanors of a seditious or erratic scribe ; having been held 
 responsible for sentiments never avowed, and of which, in some 
 cases they were unconscious, since they were incapable of their 
 comprehension. In the majority of instances the bookselling fra 
 ternity are a plain, plodding set of men, whose movements are 
 for the most part regulated by the laws of that universal pecu 
 niary arithmetic profit and loss. They deal in books very 
 much after the same manner as do the purveyors of meat and 
 bread, estimating their merchandise by the size, if not the 
 weight avoirdupois. The history of " book-craft," which yet 
 remains to be written, would form a book of " Chronicles," if 
 less important, scarcely less interesting than those of Frois- 
 sart ; it would abound with strange anomalies, and curious 
 portraitures. In early times, the monks the custodes of the 
 learning of their day combined witliin themselves both author 
 and publisher ; if indeed the latter term may be allowed in 
 this case. They were styled the Commerdum Librorum, their 
 office comprehending that of the scribe, as well as the dealer 
 in manuscripts. Between the years 1474 and 1GOO, it has 
 been estimated about 350 printers flourished in England and 
 Scotland, and that the products of their several presses 
 amounted in the aggregate to 10,000 distinct productions.* 
 
 * D Israeli, in his Curiosities of Literature, states, that the four ages of typography 
 have produced 110 less than 3,641 ,9tiO works ! Taking each work at three volumes, and
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 53 
 
 " The titles of books," writes the author of the Tin Trumpet, 
 " are decoys to cntch purchasers." There can be no doubt 
 that a happy name to a book is like an agreeable appearance 
 to a man ; but if in either case the final do not answer to the 
 first impression, will not our disappointment add to the severity 
 of our judgment ? " Let me succeed with my first impression," 
 the bibliopolist will cry, "and I ask no more." The public are 
 welcome to end with condemning, if they will only begin with 
 buying. Most readers, like the tuft-hunters at college, are 
 caught by titles. How inconsistent are our notions of moral 
 ity ! Xo man of honor would open a letter that was not ad 
 dressed to him, though he will not scruple to open a book 
 under the saiue circumstances. Colton s Lacon has gone 
 through many editions, and yet it is addressed " To those 
 who think." Had the author substituted for these words, 
 "Those who think they are thinking, 1 it might not have had so 
 extensive a sale, although it would have been directed to a 
 much larger class. He has shown address in his address. 
 
 Scott is known to have profited much by Constable s biblio 
 graphical knowledge, which was very extensive. The latter 
 christened Kenihcorth, which Scott named Cumnor Hall. John 
 Ballantyne objected to the former title, and told Constable the 
 result would be " something worthy of the kennel ;" but the 
 result proved the reverse. Mr. Cadell relates that Constable s 
 vanity boiled over so much at this time, on having his sugges 
 tions adopted, that, in his high moods, he used to stalk up 
 and down his room, and exclaim, " By Jove, I am all but the 
 author of the Waverley Xovels !" 
 
 But for booksellers, intellect would die of famine. London 
 is the great Sanhedrim of the authorcraft of the world. Lon 
 don is the very brain of Britain, the centre of its literature, 
 the seat of its intelligence. There the great emporium of 
 
 reckoning each impression to consist of only 300 copies (a very moderate supposition), 
 the actual amount of volumes which have issued from the presses of Europe, down to 
 the year 1810, appears to be 3,27T,G40,000 !
 
 54 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL 
 
 book-craft is time-honored it is an ancient and worthy order. 
 Paternoster Row is full of the odor and spirit of learning it 
 has an aroma of paper and print. There is no spot on the 
 globe like it. The London book-trade is divided into the fol 
 lowing branches the general retail bookseller, the dealer in 
 black-letter, or second-hand books, the wholesale merchant, 
 who executes country and foreign orders, and the publishing, 
 or manufacturing bookseller. The second class formerly did 
 chiefly congregate in Little Britain now they are scattered 
 about Holborn, Covent Garden, and the Strand. These are 
 depositories of those choice relics of the olden time, that often 
 tempt such premiums from the bibliomaniac. 
 
 While on this point, we cannot refrain from a recollection or 
 two of the brotherhood. One was named Xunn ; he kept an 
 old book establishment in Great Queen street, and although a 
 singularly large and corpulent personage, was scarcely less 
 remarkable for his activity in early life, than for his austerity 
 and moroseness in its later stages. By his parsimony and 
 patient application to business, he became ultimately possessed 
 of considerable wealth ; and although this was no secret, yet 
 his two daughters, who were (if one may hazard gallantry for 
 truth) remarkably ugly, lived in single blessedness to the very 
 autumn of life ; but, strange to add, immediately after the 
 demise of their venerable parent at the advanced age of eighty, 
 they each entered into matrimonial alliances. Old Xunn pos 
 sessed many peculiarities, and although not particularly re 
 markable for indulging any " sudorous brain-toils " of his own, 
 he yet never appeared so contented as when immersed among 
 the musty tomes of those who have left us in no condition of 
 doubt as to that matter. We well remember, his curious 
 custom of cramming his capacious coat-pockets, which, on one 
 occasion, actually yielded four-and-twenty large octavo vol 
 umes before their contents were exhausted. D Arcy, also a 
 dealer in second-hand and black-letter books, in Holborn, ren 
 dered himself conspicuous, among other eccentricities, for the
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 55 
 
 whim of haying female attendants in his establishment, some 
 of whom were decidedly pretty ; and what is not less singular, 
 it is said, he regulated their remuneration according to the ratio 
 of their personal attractions. He died wealthy, like his eccen 
 tric contemporary before alluded to. 
 
 The wholesale trade has always resided in and near Pater 
 noster Row, but the chief house of this class was for many 
 years on London Bridge. Osborne lived under the gateway 
 of Gray s Inn. Tonson, opposite the Strand Bridge. Millar, 
 facing St. Clement s Church, Strand. Dodsley, on the site of 
 the Shakespeare Gallery, in Pall Mall. 
 
 Publishers are said to keep the keys of the Temple of Fame. 
 They minister at the altar of learning, and furnish the 
 intellectual wealth of the world. Dr. Johnson consid 
 ered booksellers the patrons of literature, liberal, generous- 
 minded men. Another quaintly asks, " Can a bookseller live, 
 move, and have his being, in an atmosphere of intellect, and 
 not absorb the very soul and spirit of his books through his 
 pores ?" An experienced bookseller is often better qualified 
 to judge of a book, than all the critics that ever praised or 
 blamed, since the days of Diogenes. Comparatively few, how 
 ever, of the publishing fraternity pretend to critical censor 
 ship ; they usually defer to the critical judgment of some liter 
 ary friend, in determining the claims of any work for publica 
 tion. 
 
 Booksellers, moreover, evince an affinity of feeling in more 
 instances than one, with the "genus irritabile." We remember 
 an incident, among others, to this effect. Goldsmith, who was 
 originally poor and unknown, after the publication of the Trav 
 eller became of much greater consequence ; and one day, on 
 learning that a scandalous attack had appeared against him in 
 a paper published by Evans, he called at the shop of the 
 offending bibliopolist, and announcing his errand, proceeded to 
 administer summary chastisement. The pugilistic encounter, 
 however, proved ultimately to the overwhelming disadvantage
 
 56 SAL AD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 of the worthy Vicar, who got well beaten himself and rolled 
 upon the floor, to the amusement of the real offender, the 
 author of the offensive article, who complaisantly stood by as 
 bottle-holder on the occasion. 
 
 As somewhat gerraan to our chapter, we shall add a few 
 supplemental words about printing and book-binding. 
 
 In the United States the Press is represented by the illustri 
 ous Franklin, the Bacon of the New World a trio, juncta in 
 uno, printer, author, and one of the great fathers of modern 
 science ; and who has been thus technically described by one of 
 the fraternity, " the * of his profession, the type of honesty, 
 the 1 of all, and although the JKaT" of death has put a . to his 
 existence, every of his life is without a ||." 
 
 Types kave been likened to 
 
 " A thousand lamps at one lone altar lighted, 
 Turning the night of error into day. 
 
 Type-setting in early times was not remarkable for its exact 
 ness and accuracy. In the year 1561, a book was printed, 
 called the Anatomy of the Mass. It had only 172 pages in it ; 
 but the author a pious monk was obliged to add fifteen 
 pages to correct the blunders. These he attributes to the 
 special instigation of the " devil," to defeat the work ; and 
 hence may have come the use of the title, " Printer s Devil." 
 
 A printer s wife in Germany lost her life by feloniously med 
 dling with the types. She went into the office by night, and 
 took out the word "lord," in Genesis iii. 16, where Eve is 
 made subject to her husband, and made the verse read, "he 
 shall be thy fool," instead of " he shall be thy lord." It is said 
 that she was put to death for her wickedness. It is well 
 known that printers of an early edition of the Scriptures were 
 so heavily fined as to be utterly ruined, for leaving out the 
 word "not" from one of the Ten Commandments. There is 
 an edition of the Bible, called the " Vinegar Bible," from the 
 parable of the " Vineyard" being printed " vinegar."
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 57 
 
 Other equally notorious instances of errata in editions of the 
 Vulgate, which provoked the anathemas of the Vatican, are 
 on record. In one case there were six thousand errors, and 
 after a revision, nearly as many more were detected on a sub 
 sequent inspection. It is, perhaps, scarcely possible to produce 
 a book faultless, but the art, at the present day at least, ap 
 proximates very closely to perfection, some of the more costly 
 publications of London being of exquisite typographic beauty. 
 Punctuation is as important to the sense as orthography. This 
 is so self-evident that we need not cite any illustrations in proof. 
 
 The oldest printing establishment in Europe, if not in the 
 world, is that of M. Barth of Breslau, still extant, which we 
 believe, has been for 350 years uninterruptedly in existence, 
 in the hands of his ancestors and himself. The first book 
 printed there was a German legend, in 1504. 
 
 Bookmaking must be classed among the Fine Arts, for 
 indeed it is an art in itself, whether we consider it in its exte 
 rior or interior decoration. The English excel all others in 
 the tasty arrangement that is required in a really exquisite 
 work. They understand it in all its minutiae. The very title- 
 page is a model of neatness and elegance ; and of such import 
 ance is the superintendence of their labors, that artists, 
 "trained men in their vocation," are employed in most of the 
 large establishments to attend to it in all its artistic capabili 
 ties. Contrast an English with a French or German work of 
 equal pretensions how quiet, yet how genial is the one in its 
 superior refinement above all the others. Neither ought it to 
 be forgotten that, while speaking about books, those who 
 administer in such a wonderful degree to their attractiveness, 
 claim some notice at our hands, for it is mainly owing to the 
 engraver that a new dawning in this species of literary luxury 
 has taken place, and those beautifully illustrated works that 
 are ventured upon the broad waters of the Atlantic to gratify 
 the fastidious, giving delight to numbers by their kindly 
 remembrances, and laden affections, are the result of those 
 
 4*
 
 58 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL 
 
 silent workers. Their names, famous in this phase of decora 
 tive art on the other side of the great highway, are familiar 
 as " household words." Yet we, too, have those in our midst 
 who would make their impress in any nation. Danforth, Jones, 
 Seely, Burt, and John Halpin, in historical ; Smilie and 
 Beckwirth, in landscape ; and Fred. Halpin, in portraiture, 
 are names that could not be lightly passed over anywhere ; 
 and among our artists on wood, Bobbett, Childs, Andrews, 
 Lossiug, and others, keep up in a corresponding degree the 
 merits of their particular professions. 
 
 Bookbinding is an art of great antiquity. It is two thousand 
 years and more since Phillatius, a Greek, divided the rolled 
 volume into sheets, and glued these together in the form which 
 is familiar to us. The rolls had been preserved from dust and 
 injury by being kept in cylindrical cases, and a protection for 
 the book in its new shape was soon found to be more necessary 
 than before. This was supplied by securing the leaves between 
 stiff covers, probably of wood at first, and thus began the mod 
 ern art of bookbinding. 
 
 Soon the board was covered with leather, making in external 
 appearance a still nearer approach to the workmanship of our 
 day ; but it was not until the close of the fifteenth century, or 
 the beginning of the sixteenth, that the stout pasteboard, called 
 mill-board, which unites lightness with sufficient strength, was 
 used as the foundation of the book-cover. 
 
 When the sheet of paper of which a book is made is folded 
 in two leaves, the book is called a folio ; when into four leaves, 
 it is called quarto ; when folded into eight leaves, it is called 
 octavo ; when into twelve leaves, duodecimo, or 12mo. ; when 
 folded into 16 leaves, 16mo. ; and when into eighteen leaves, 
 18mo., &c. 
 
 The ancient Romans ornamented the covers of their books 
 very elaborately. Those of wood were carved ; and upon some 
 of these, scenes from plays, and events of public interest, were 
 represented. About the commencement of the Christian era,
 
 BOOK-CRAFT. 59 
 
 leather of brilliant hues, decorated with gold and silver, had 
 come into use. In the Middle Ages the monks exhausted their 
 ingenuity, and frequently, it would seem, their purses, in 
 adorning the covers of those manuscripts which they spent their 
 lives in writing and illuminating. Single figures and groups, 
 wrought in solid gold, solid silver, and gold gorgeous with 
 enamel, precious stones and pearls, made the outside of the 
 volume correspond to the splendor within. Less expensive 
 works were often bound in oaken boards very richly carved ; 
 scenes from the life of Christ, the Virgin, or the Apostles, fur 
 nishing the subjects. Many still exist upon which the Nativity, 
 or the Crucifixion, is carved in high relief. 
 
 In the latter part of the fifteenth century, and the beginning 
 of the sixteenth, kings, princes, and wealthy nobles, expended 
 much money upon the binding of their libraries, which were, in 
 many cases, very extensive. Carved ivory covers, protected by 
 golden corners, and secured by jewelled clasps, were common, 
 as were also those of velvet, silk brocade, vellum, and morocco, 
 elaborately ornamented after designs made by great artists, and 
 protected with bosses, corners, and clasps of solid gold. The 
 precious stones and metals upon these book-covers, cost us the 
 loss of many a more precious volume, for they frequently formed 
 no inconsiderable part of the plunder of a wealthy mansion in 
 a captured city. Mr. Dibdin tells us of one library of thirty 
 thousand volumes that of Corvinus, King of Hungary which 
 was destroyed on this account by the Turkish soldiers, when 
 Buda was taken in 1526. 
 
 Quite an era in the history of bookbinding in England was 
 formed by the publication of the Great Bible, by Grafton, in 
 1539. His first edition was of 200 copies, and within three 
 years there were seven editions. A substantial binding was 
 thus needed for nearly twenty thousand volumes, and from this 
 time there was a noticeable advance in the art in England ; 
 chiefly, however, in the mechanical department ; for Henry 
 VIII. had many books richly and beautifully bound, In his
 
 60 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 reign the use of gold tooling was introduced, and the designs 
 for some of the rolls are attributed to Holbein. Queen Eliza 
 beth herself embroidered velvet and silk book-covers, some of 
 which were also tooled in gilt.* 
 
 The art has been carried to a high degree of excellence and 
 finish in France. Many have acquired great renown there, in 
 this department of handicraft. They hold themselves far above 
 their brethren of England ; and Duru once said that he should 
 consider himself insulted if he were told that he could bind as 
 well as Hayday. Their prices were enormous three times as 
 great as those of the best London binders, large as those were. 
 The French books are remarkable for the firmness of their 
 boards, the smoothness of their leather, and the delicacy, the 
 richness of design, and the sharpness of outline of their gold 
 tooling. The designs upon one of Beauzonnet s Cape s, or 
 Lortic s books, seem hardly to be stamped upon the leather, 
 but rather to be inlaid in it. But for pleasure and convenience 
 in use, the work of the French binders is inferior to that of the 
 English. Books bound by the former are very stiff ; that is, 
 they open with great difficulty, and require constant pressure 
 to keep them open.f 
 
 The father of the English school of binders was Roger 
 Payne, who lived towards the close of the last century. The 
 great modern English binders are Hayday, Clarke, ^Bedford, 
 Riviere, and Wright. The Remnants have a very large esta 
 blishment, and bind richly and substantially. The work of 
 Charles Lewis was highly prized, and merited its reputation. 
 
 The fitness of the binding to the character of the volume 
 which it protects, though little regarded by many binders, and 
 
 * Illustrated Record of Art. 
 
 t It may be well to say here, for the benefitof those not familiar with the book 
 binder s vocabulary, that gilt tooling is what is commonly called gilding, the figures in 
 gilt being produced by the impression of a hot tool, sometimes stamped, sometimes 
 rolled, upon gold leaf. Blind tooling is produced by the use of the hot tool without gold 
 leaf. The forwarding of a book is the sewing and putting it into the cover. Finishing 
 is the tooling, gilding, &c.
 
 BOOK -CRAFT. 
 
 61 
 
 still less by those for whom they work, is of the first import 
 ance. Many a good book is mercilessly sacrificed by an incom 
 petent binder ; persons of fastidious taste will prefer the servi 
 ces of one who is possessed of artistic taste and feeling. 
 
 Here, then, we finish with the binder, as he finishes his book, 
 and here also we reluctantly conclude our chapter upon Book- 
 craft a theme of exhaustless interest to all who have any 
 affinity of taste for books and the intellectual sweets they con 
 tain since our too lavish indulgence in such refined epicurism 
 might challenge our mental digestion too severely. We there 
 fore offer a change by way of dessert.
 
 
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 
 
 God of the woi-Kl and worldlings, 
 Great Mammon ! greatest god below the sky." 
 
 SPEKSEB. 
 
 "What is here? 
 
 Gold ! gold, yellow, glittering, precious gold, 
 Saint-seducing gold?" SHAKSPEARE. 
 
 THE question proposed by little Paul, in Domley and Son, 
 is suggested by the caption of our chapter " What s money ?" 
 The reply of many would doubtless be the same as that returned
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 63 
 
 to the young querist referred to a mere mercantile one 
 namely, that it is currency, specie, and bank-notes, or gold, 
 silver, and copper. But this did not suffice for little Paul ; he 
 repeated his inquiry " I mean, what s money after all ?" 
 This is the question we propose to discuss in an illustrative 
 way. First as to its material. Gold and silver, styled the 
 precious metals are both pure, ductile, and malleable, and 
 unaffected by most conditions of atmosphere. They are of 
 intrinsic and positive worth, and were therefore adopted as 
 the standards of value, to represent all commercial exchanges. 
 
 The Numismatic Journal states, in reference to the attempt 
 to establish the true origin of coins, that according to the 
 Parian Chronicle, a record of the third century before Christ, 
 Phiedon, king of Argos, iu order to facilitate commerce, 
 stamped silver money in the island of -<Egina, in the year before 
 Christ, 895. Now as Homer existed immediately prior to this 
 epoch, and makes no mention of coined money, whilst he does 
 mention the system of barter, we may infer that it was 
 unknown in his time ; for it is impossible to imagine a writer, 
 by whom no art or science has been overlooked, to have passed 
 over so useful an invention as stamped coin, had it existed. In 
 the time of Lycurgus, which followed that of Homer certainly 
 not later than a century, though there is some difficulty in 
 ascertaining a more positive data, it is equally certain that gold 
 and silver coin, as money, existed in Greece, as proved by his 
 law prohibiting their use in Sparta, and substituting iron : prob 
 ably rings, similar to the iron ring money of the early Celtic 
 nations, of which specimens have been discovered in Ireland. 
 This brings the introduction of coins between the epochs of 
 Homer and Lycurgus, in fact to the precise period assigned to 
 the invention of Phiedon ; and the coins of JEgina, from the 
 rudeness of their devices, and imperfection of their execution, 
 may fairly be supposed to be of the age in question. This, 
 compared with the assertion of the Parian Chronicle, the 
 silence of Homer, and the law of Lycurgus, seems fairly to
 
 64 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 authenticate the claim of Phiedon, and to establish the origin 
 of the first current money as having occurred nearly nine hundred 
 years before th<>, Christian era, in the island of JEgina. 
 
 Numa Pompilius caused money to be made of wood and 
 leather hence the Latin word, Pecunia : afterwards bits of 
 copper, marked according to weight, were stamped with figures 
 or images. Money, as to its name, is derived from Juno 
 Monet.a, the Roman Temple where it was coined 200, B. C. 
 
 The most ancient Jewish coins represented a pot of manna- 
 on one side, and Aaron s blossoming rod ou the other ; the in 
 scription being in Samaritan. 
 
 Jewish shekels were Is. Id. ; a talent was 8,000 shekels, or 
 342 3s. 9tZ. sterling. 
 
 The Egyptians did not coin till the accession of the Ptole 
 mies, nor the Jews till the age of the Maccabees ; the most 
 ancient known coins are the Macedonian, of the date of about 
 500 years before Christ. 
 
 Athelstan first established a uniform coin in England. The 
 Egbert silver coins were shillings, thrimsas, pennies, halflings, 
 and feorthlings. Gold coin was introduced by Edward III., in 
 six-shilling pieces, nearly equal in size, but not in weight, to 
 modern sovereigns. Nobles followed at 65. $>d., and became 
 the lawyers fee. Edward IV. coined angels, with a figure of 
 Michael and the Dragon. 
 
 Money had its equivalent in salt in Abyssinia a small shell 
 called cowcry, in Hindostan dried fish in Iceland and 
 wampum among the North American Indians.* Xails were 
 
 * The first money in use in New York, then New Netherlands, and also in New Eng 
 land, was Sedicant, Wampum, or Peague, for it was known by all those names. 
 Sf ticant was the generic name of this Indian money, of which there were two kinds ; 
 wompam (commonly called wampum), which signifies, white, and suckanhock, sucki 
 signifying bl<ick. Wampum, or warnpum-peague, or simply peague, was also under 
 stood, although improperly, among the Dutch and English, as expressive of gi-neric 
 denomination, and in that light was used by them in their writings and public docu 
 ments. Wampum, or white money, was originally made from the stem or stock of the 
 metean-hock, or periwinkle ; mickanhock, or black money, was manufactured from 
 the inside of the shell of the quahaug (Venus Mercenaria), commonly called the hard
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 65 
 
 formerly in use in Scotland, as we learn from Smith s Wealth oj 
 Nations. 
 
 The three principal mints in the world are those of London, 
 of the United States, and of Paris. Their total coinage during 
 1853, according to the London Economist, was as follows, in 
 pounds sterling : Paris, 14,901,702 ; London, 12,666,008 ; 
 United States, 11,101,120. The total amount of this in dollars 
 is 8193,644,150.* 
 
 To lack money, it has been remarked, is to lack a passport or 
 admission ticket into the pleasant places of God s earth to 
 much that is glorious and wonderful in nature, and nearly all 
 that is rare, curious, and enchanting in art. 
 
 Hood s lines suggest a little moralizing : 
 
 " Gold ! gold ! gold ! gold ! 
 Bright and yellow, hard and cold, 
 Molten, graven, hammered, rolled ; 
 Heavy to get, and light to hold ; 
 Hoarded, bartered, bought and sold ; 
 Stolen, borrowed, squandered, doled ; 
 Spurned by the young, but hugged by the old, 
 To the very verge of the church-yard mould ; 
 Price of many a crime untold ; 
 Gold! gold! gold! gold!" 
 
 What has not man sacrificed upon the altar of Moloch ? his 
 time, his health, his friendships, his reputation, his conscience, 
 
 clam, a round thick shellfish that buries itself a little way in the sand in salt water_. 
 The Indians broke off about half an inch of the purple color of the inside, and converted 
 it into beads. These, before the introduction of awls and thread, were bored with sharp 
 stones, and strung upon the sinews of animals, and when interwoven to the breadth of 
 the hand, more or less, were called a belt of seawant, or wampum. Den ton s New York. 
 * Mr. Jacob has estimated the existing gold of the world, previously to 1343 (four- 
 fifths of it existing in manufactured articles) at 050,000,000. Add our new acquisi 
 tion of 35,000,000, and we have a present world-wealth cT gold of 705,000,000. T;iHng 
 tin- i. iibic yard of gold at -2,000,000, which it is in round numbers, all the goldof the 
 world at this estimate might, if melted into ingots, be contained in a cellar twenty-four 
 feet square, and sixteen feet high. All our boasted wealth already obtained from 
 California and Australia would go into an iron safe, nine feet square, and nine feet 
 high. So small is the cube of yellow metal that has set populations on the march, and 
 roused the world to wonder !
 
 66 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 and even life itself, and all its great issues. Rightly used, 
 money is the procurer of the domestic comforts and luxuries, 
 as well as the necessaries of life, but when inordinately cher 
 ished and coveted, it becomes the bane of happiness and peace. 
 In the affair of marriage, how much of disaster has it super 
 induced how much of infelicity entailed upon the domestic 
 relations. Instead of surrendering to Gupid, how many have 
 been led captive by cupidity, vainly dreaming of hearts -ease 
 when they have shown their preference to marry gold. But 
 money cannot purchase love, or virtue, or happiness. A phi 
 losopher has said, " though a man without money is poor, a 
 man with nothing but money is still poorer." Fuller wisely 
 insists that it is much better to have your gold in the hand 
 than in the heart. A man s character is often indicated by his 
 mode of using money. 
 
 A vain man s motto is, win gold and wear it a generous 
 man s, win gold and share it a miser s, win gold and 
 spare it a profligate s, win gold and spend it a broker s, 
 win gold and lend it a fool s, win gold and end it 
 a gambler s, win gold and lose it a wise man s, win gold 
 and use it. 
 
 Of all the evil propensities to which human nature is subject, 
 there is no one so general, so insinuating, so corruptive, and so 
 obstinate, as the love of money. It begins to operate early, 
 and it continues to the end of life. One of the first lessons 
 which children learn, and one which old men never forget, is 
 the value of money. The covetous seek- and guard it for its 
 own sake, and the prodigal himself must first be avaricious, 
 before he can be profuse. This, of all our passions, is best able 
 to fortify itself by reason, and is the last to yield to the force 
 of reason. Philosophy combats, satire exposes, religion con 
 demns it in vain : it yields neither to argument, nor ridicule, 
 nor conscience.* 
 
 * Hunter s Biography.
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 6*7 
 
 I riches read, 
 
 And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse 
 First got with guile, and then preserved with dread ; 
 
 And after spent with pride and lavishnesse, 
 
 Leaving behind them grief and heavinesse. 
 Infinite mischicfes of them doe arize; 
 
 Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitternesse, 
 Outrageous wrong, and hellish covetize, 
 That noble hart in great dishonour doth despize." * 
 
 This love of money, which Holy Scripture tells us is " the 
 root of all evil," Jeremy Taylor describes as a vertiginous pool, 
 sucking all into its vortex, to destroy it. That this love of 
 gold is the master passion of the age, few will question. It is 
 "the age of gold ;" the auriferous sands of the Pacific for the 
 western hemisphere, and those of Australia for the eastern, are 
 incessantly pouring out their treasures to feed the insatiate cra 
 vings of avarice. The liturgy " on Change" seems to read 
 Man s chief end is to make money, and to enjoy it while he can. 
 The votaries of Mammon, however, do not enjoy their posses 
 sions they have no leisure, in their ceaseless, toilsome efforts, 
 to augment their fortunes. A contemporary observes, with 
 great justice : 
 
 " Many a man there is, clothed in respectability, and proud 
 of his honor, whose central idea of life is interest and ease 
 the conception that other men are merely tools to be used as 
 will best serve him ; that God has endowed him with sinew 
 and brain merely to scramble and to get ; and so, in the midst 
 of this grand universe, which is a perpetual circulation of bene 
 fit, he lives like a sponge on a rock, to absorb, and bloat, and 
 die. Thousands in the great city are living so, who never look 
 out of the narrow circle of self-interest ; whose decalogue is 
 their arithmetic ; whose Bible is their ledger ; who have so 
 contracted, and hardened, and stamped their natures, that iu 
 
 * Spenser.
 
 C8 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 any spiritual estimate they would only pass as so many bags 
 of dollars." 
 
 It is indispensable, in some cases, that men should have 
 money, for without ife they would be worth nothing. This, 
 however, offers no apology for the universal scramble after 
 money. Is this money-mania the highest development of our 
 vaunted civilization ? the summum lonum of human existence ? 
 the Ultima Thule of human effort ? 
 
 " The plague of gold strikes far and near. 
 
 And deep and strong it enters ; 
 Tbe purple cyrnar which we wear, 
 
 Makes madder than the centaurs ; 
 Our thoughts grow blank, our words grow strange, 
 
 We cheer the pale gold-diggers, 
 Each soul is worth so much on Change, 
 
 And marked, like sheep, with figures." 
 
 " Men work for it, fight for it, beg for it, steal for it, starve 
 for it, lie for it, live for it, and die for it. And all the while, 
 from the cradle to the grave, Nature and God are ever thun 
 dering in our ears the solemn question What shall it profit 
 a man to gain the whole world and lose his own soul ? This 
 madness for money is the strongest and the lowest of the 
 passions ; it is the insatiate Moloch of the. human heart, before 
 whose remorseless altar all the finer attributes of humanity are 
 sacrificed. It makes merchandise of all that is sacred in human 
 affections ; and even traffics in the awful solemnities of the 
 eternal world." 
 
 " Gone, the spirit-quickening leaven, 
 Faith, and love, and hope in heaven 
 All that warmed the earth of old. 
 Dead and cold, 
 
 Its pulses flutter ; 
 Weak and old, 
 
 Its parched lips mutter,
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 69 
 
 Nothing nobler, nothing higher 
 Than the unappeased desire, 
 
 The quenchless thirst for gold ! 
 
 Money is a very good servant, but a bad master. It may be 
 accused of injustice towards mankind, inasmuch as there are 
 only a few who make false money, whereas money makes many 
 false men. 
 
 Mammon is the largest slaveholder in the world it is a 
 composition for taking stains out of character it is an altar 
 on which self sacrifices to self. 
 
 " How many a man, from love of pelf, 
 To stuff his coffers, starves himself ; 
 Labors, accumulates, and spares, 
 To lay up ruiu for his heirs ; 
 Grudges the poor their scanty dole, 
 Saves every thing except his soul ; 
 And always anxious, always vexed, 
 Loses both this world and the next ! - 
 
 Shakspeare defines the sordid passion as 
 
 " Worse poison to men s souls, 
 Doing more murders in this loathsome world 
 Than any mortal drug." 
 
 In the words of Johnson, it is the 
 
 " Wide wasting pest ! that rages unconfined, 
 And crowds with crimes the records of mankind : 
 For gold, his sword the hireling ruffian draws, 
 For gold, the hireling judge distorts the laws ; 
 Wealth heaped on wealth, nor truth nor safety buys, 
 The dangers gather as the treasures rise." 
 
 " A miser," observes Hazlitt, " is the true alchemist, the 
 magician in his cell, who overlooks a mighty experiment, who
 
 70 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL 
 
 sees dazzling visions, and who wields the will of others at his 
 nod, but to whom all other hopes and pleasures are dead, and 
 who is cut off from all connection with his kind. He lives in a 
 splendid hallucination, a waking trance, and so far it is well ; 
 but if he thinks he has any other need or use for all this end 
 less store (any more than to swell the ocean) he deceives him 
 self, and is no conjuror after all. He goes on, however, 
 mechanically adding to his stock, and fancying that great 
 riches is great gain that every particle that swells the heap is 
 something in reserve against the evil day, and a defence against 
 that poverty which he dreads more the further he is removed 
 from it, as the more giddy the height to which we have 
 attained, the more frightful does the gulf yawn below so 
 easily does habit get the mastery of reason, and so nearly is 
 passion allied to madness." This is the turn the love of money 
 takes in cautious, dry, recluse, and speculative minds. If it 
 were the pure and abstract love of money, it could lake no 
 other turn but this. 
 
 " The wretch concentered all in self, 
 Living, shall forfeit fair renown, 
 And, doubly dying, shall go down 
 To the vile dust from whence he sprung, 
 Unwept, unhonored and unsung." 
 
 " A miser grows rich by seeming poor," says Shenstone, 
 " an extravagant man grows poor by seeming rich." 
 
 Wealth usually ministers to the baser passions of our nature 
 it engenders selfishness, feeds arrogance, and inspires self- 
 security, and deadens and stultifies the nobler feelings and 
 holier aspirations of the heart. Wealth is a source of endless 
 discontent ; it creates more wants than it supplies, and 
 keeps its incumbent constantly craving, crafty, and covetous. 
 Lord Bacon says, " I cannot call riches by a better name than 
 the baggage of virtue : the Roman word is better impedi-
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 71 
 
 ment. For as baggage is to an army, so are riches to virtue. 
 It cannot be spared or left behind, and yet it hindereth the 
 march." " Misery assails riches, as lightning does the highest 
 towers : or as a tree that is heavy laden with fruit, breaks its 
 own boughs, so do riches destroy the virtue of their possessor." 
 
 Old Burton quaintly but forcibly observes " Worldly 
 wealth is the devil s bait ; and those whose minds feed upon 
 riches, recede in general, from real happiness, in proportion as 
 their stores increase ; as the moon, when she is fullest of light, 
 is furthest from the sun." 
 
 A miser is, moreover, the most oblivious, as well as the most 
 vindictive of mortals ; he is said to be always for-getting, and 
 never for-giving. He lives unloved, and dies unlamented. His 
 self-denial is only surpassed by his denial of the poor and 
 destitute. The miser starves himself in the midst of plenty, 
 that he may feast his imagination on his useless hoards. 
 Avarice, unlike most other passions, becomes more exacting as 
 its victim increases in age. Fielding speaks of a miser, who 
 consoled himself on his death-bed " by making a crafty and 
 advantageous bargain concerning his funeral, with an under 
 taker who had married his only child." There have been 
 examples of misers who have died in the dark to save the cost 
 of a candle. How debasing the passion which can survive 
 every other feeling, sear the conscience, and deaden the moral 
 sense! " Of all creatures upon earth none is so despicable as the 
 miser. He meets with no sympathy. Even the nurse who is 
 hired to attend him in his latest hours, loathes the ghastly 
 occupation, and longs for the moment of her release, for 
 although the death-damp is already gathering on his brow, the 
 thoughts of the departing sinner are still upon his gold ; and, 
 at the mere jingle of a key, he starts from his torpor in a 
 paroxysm of terror, lest a surreptitious attempt is being made 
 upon the sanctity of his strong box v There are no prayers of 
 the orphan or widow for him not a solitary voice has ever 
 breathed his name to heaven as a benefactor. One poor penny
 
 72 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 given away in the spirit of true charity would now be worth 
 more to him than all the world contains ; but notwithstanding 
 that he was a church-going man, and from his infancy familiar 
 with those texts in which the worship of Mammon is denounced, 
 and the punishment of Dives told, he has never yet been able 
 to divorce himself from his solitary love of lucre, or to part with 
 one atom of his pelf. And so, from a miserable life deserted, 
 despised, he passes into a dread eternity ; and those whom he 
 has neglected or misused, make merry with the hoards of the 
 miser I"* 
 
 " The aged man that coffers up his gold. 
 
 Is plagued with cramps, and gouts, and painful fits, 
 
 And scarce has eyes his treasure to behold ; 
 But like still pining Tantalus he sits, 
 And useless barns the harvest of his wits ; 
 
 Having no other pleasure of his gain 
 
 But torment that it cannot cure his pain."f 
 
 The ingenious author of the Tin Trumpet remarks that a 
 miser is one who, though he loves himself better than all the 
 world, uses himself worse : for he lives like a pauper in order 
 that he may enrich his heirs, whom he naturally hates, because 
 he knows they hate him. 
 
 Perhaps the severest reproach ever made to a miser, was 
 uttered by Voltaire. At a subscription of the French Academy 
 for some charitable object, each contributor putting in a louis 
 d or, the collector, by mistake, made a second application to a 
 member noted for his penuriousness " I have already paid," 
 exclaimed the latter with some asperity. " I beg your pardon," 
 said the applicant, " I have no doubt but you paid ; I believe 
 it though I did not see it." " And I saw it, and do not believe 
 it," whispered Yoltaire. 
 
 Misers have been compared to many strange things ; some 
 
 * Blackwood. t Shafcspeare.
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 73 
 
 liken them to oysters with a pearl iu the shell ; others style 
 them amateur paupers. 
 
 Again, misers have beeu supposed to resemble the hog ; a 
 resemblance between them, it has been suggested, has long 
 been recognized by popular tradition ; and if we examine the 
 subject closely, we shall find they have more points of likeness 
 than we should at first suppose. The hog is omnivorous and 
 voracious so the miser grows rich by gathering and convert 
 ing into money those odds and ends which others throw away. 
 The hog is the scavenger of nature ; the miser is the scavenger 
 of society. Both, also, benefit mankind only after their 
 death the fat of the hog and the wealth of the miser, which 
 they have spent their lives in accumulating, being of no use 
 during their existence. 
 
 The animating principle of both miser and hog is, of course, 
 selfishness. Both are delvers of the grovelling sort, both are 
 ill-tempered and sometimes cruel. It is noticed, by a Swedish 
 writer, that " the hog does not enjoy the society of man, as the 
 dog does. He likes going about by himself, grunting in an 
 undertone, which he prefers to raising his voice to its highest 
 pitch." This is eminently true of the miser. He is thoroughly 
 unsocial in his disposition, burrows by himself, and mutters to 
 himself, not daring to raise his voice in manly tones, lost it 
 should draw attention to his ill-gotten gains. 
 
 The wretched victim of avarice is ever striving to amass 
 wealth by every expedient that will not subject him to the crimi 
 nal laws, and to place it in security, is the great and ultimate 
 object of his pursuit. Mammon is the great idol he worships, 
 and whatever the specious and plausible pretexts he may 
 assume, he pays homage at no other shrine. In his selfish 
 isolation, he surrenders himself up to the domination of his 
 debasing passion a voluntary exile from the endearing offices 
 of friendship, and the gentle charities of domestic and social 
 life. The benign and blessed influence of heaven-born Peace 
 sheds not her halcyon rays upon his dark and desolate heart. 
 
 4
 
 < 4 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 A victim to the sordid lust of gold, his mercenary spirit is sus 
 ceptible of no generous impulse or sentiment, worthy of an 
 immortal being every thought and desire being absorbed in 
 his insatiate cravings after riches. In the words of Dr. Dick, 
 who presents the miser s portrait in all his hideous deformity, 
 "all the avenues to true enjoyment are interrupted, and closely 
 shut up by the cold hand of avarice. He denies himself those 
 sensitive comforts with which Providence has so richly replen 
 ished the earth, and has placed within his reach ; and even 
 almost starves himself in the midst of plenty. As he approaches 
 the close of his career, and descends to the grave, whither his 
 coveted wealth cannot follow him, his passion for gold acquires 
 an increased intensity, and he clings to his useless but ardently 
 cherished treasures with a fearfully tenacious grasp." The 
 prodigal " spends his substance in riotous living," in the delu 
 sive attempt to secure present enjoyment ; and the distribution 
 of his money is at least a benefit to society ; but the covetous 
 man is alike injurious to himself and all around bin? This 
 passion is not only detestable in its nature, and destructive of 
 every virtue, it is also a disease like that of intemperance, that 
 seldom, if ever, admits of cure. " Other passions have their 
 holidays," says an old writer, " but avarice never suffers its 
 votaries to rest." 
 
 O, cursed love of gold ! when for thy sake 
 The fool throws up his interest in both worlds 
 
 "Joshua," said Ambrose, "could stop the course of the sun, 
 but all his power could not stop the course of avarice. The 
 sun stood still, but avarice went on ; Joshua obtained a victory 
 when the sun stood still ; but when avarice was at work 
 Joshua was defeated." We have other recorded facts in sacred 
 story illustrative of the crime of cupidity. Achan s covetous 
 humor made him steal that wedge of gold which served " to 
 cleave his soul from God :" it made Judas betray Christ ; and 
 Absalom to attempt to pluck the crown from his father s head.
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 75 
 
 To a reflecting mind it may well cause surprise that the world 
 at large set such paramount value upon the acquisition of 
 wealth. To what voluntary inflictions, sufferings and life-toils, 
 will not men submit for its attainment ? Vast wealth brings 
 with it increase of cares, and with multiplied resources we 
 h nd usually ever-growing wants to be supplied. What material 
 difference is it to us, provided we inhale the perfume of the 
 fragrant flowers, whether they belong to our neighbor or our- 
 self : or whether the fair estate be the property of and called 
 after the name of another, so we are refreshed with the vision ? 
 We share a community of interest in this respect, in all the 
 fair and beautiful things of earth. 
 
 " For nature s care, to all her children just, 
 With richer treasures aud an ampler state 
 Endows at large whatever happy man will deign to use them. 
 His the city s pomp, the rural honors his 
 Whatever adorns the princely dome, the column, and the arch, 
 The breathing marble, and the sculptured gold 
 Beyond the proud possessor s narrow claim, 
 His tuneful breast enjoys." 
 
 The beautiful soliloquy of Jeremy Taylor will occur to the 
 reader ; he exclaims 
 
 " I am fallen into the hands of publicans and sequestrators 
 and they have taken all from me. What now ? Let me look 
 about me. They have left the sun and moon, fire and water, 
 a loving wife aud many friends to pity me, and some to relieve 
 me ; and I can discourse ; and, unless I list, they have not 
 taken away my merry countenance and my cheerful spirits, 
 and a good conscience ; they have still left me the providence 
 of God, and all the promises of the gospel, and my religion, 
 and my hope of heaven, and my charity for them too. And 
 still I sleep, and I digest, and eat, and drink ; I read and 
 meditate ; I can walk in my neighbor s pleasant fields, and 
 see the varieties of natural beauty, and delight in all that iu
 
 76 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 which God delights that is, in virtue and wisdom, in the 
 whole creation, and in God himself." 
 
 " 0, blissful poverty ! 
 Nature, too partial to tby lot assigns 
 Health, freedom, innocence, and downy peace."* 
 
 Sand has written a beautiful apostrophe to Poverty " the 
 good goddess Poverty :" we cite a sentence or two : 
 
 " They have chained the good goddess they have beaten 
 her and persecuted her ; but, they cannot debase her. She 
 has taken refuge in the souls of poets, of peasants, of artists, of 
 martyrs, and of saints. Many children has she had, and many 
 a divine secret has she taught them. She does all the greatest 
 and most beautiful things that are done in the world ; it is 
 she who cultivates the fields, and prunes the trees who drives 
 the herds to pasture, singing the while all sweet songs who 
 sees the day break, and catches the sun s first smile. It is she 
 who inspires the poet, and makes eloquent the guitar, the violin 
 and the flute ; who instructs the dextrous artisan, and teaches 
 him to hew stone, to carve marble, to fashion gold and silver, 
 copper and iron. It is she who supplies oil for the lamp, who 
 reaps the harvest fields, kneads bread for us, weaves our gar 
 ments, in summer and winter, and who maintains and feeds the 
 world. It is she who nurses us in infancy, succors us in 
 sorrow and sickness, and attends us to the silent sleeping-place 
 of death. Thou art all gentleness, all patience, all strength 
 and all compassion. It is thou who dost reunite all thy 
 children in a holy love, givest them charity, faith, hope, 0, 
 goddess of Poverty !" 
 
 Every man is rich or poor, according to the proportion 
 between his desires and enjoyments. Of riches, as of every, 
 thing else, the hope is more than the enjoyment ; while we 
 consider them as the means to be used at some future time for 
 
 * Fen ton.
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 77 
 
 the attainment of felicity, ardor after them secures us from 
 weariness of ourselves ; bnt no sooner do we sit down to enjoy 
 our acquisitions, than we find them insufficient to fill up the 
 vacuities of life. We are poor only when we want necessaries ; 
 it is custom gives the name of poverty to the want of superflui 
 ties. 
 
 Good old Izaak Walton has something to say on this subject, 
 too good to be omitted. Here it is : 
 
 " I have a rich neighbor that is always so busy that he has 
 no leisure to laugh ; the whole business of his life is to get 
 money, more money that he may still get more. He is still 
 drudging, saying what Solomon says : The diligent hand 
 maketh rich. And it is true, indeed ; but he considers not 
 that it is not in the power of riches to make a man happy; for 
 it was wisely said by a man of great observation, that there 
 be as many miseries beyond riches as on this side of them. 
 And yet heaven deliver us from pinching poverty, and grant 
 that, having a competency, we may be content and thankful. 
 Let us not repine, or so much as think the gifts of God 
 unequally dealt, if we see another abound in riches, when, as 
 God knows, the cares that are the keys that keep those riches, 
 hang often so heavily at the rich man s girdle, that they clog 
 him with weary days and restless nights, even where others 
 sleep quietly. We see but the outside of the rich man s happi 
 ness ; few consider him to be like the silk-worm, that, when 
 she seems to play, is at the same time spinning her own bowels, 
 and consuming herself. And this many rich men do, loading 
 themselves with corroding cares to keep what they have already 
 got. Let us, therefore, be thankful for health and competence, 
 and, above all, for a quiet conscience." 
 
 La Bruyere wisely remarks, " Let us not envy some men 
 their accumulated riches ; their burden would be too heavy for 
 us ; we could not sacrifice, as they do, health, honor, quiet, 
 and conscience, to obtain them. It is to pay so dear for them 
 that the bargain is a loss."
 
 78 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 The classic page furnishes examples of a noble contempt of 
 wealth, and a virtuous preference of poverty over venality and 
 lust of riches. These, however, are rather exceptions to the 
 rule which sustains the converse of the proposition ; and before 
 turning to the bright side, let us briefly refer to one or two 
 instances of the baneful effects of avarice on the human 
 heart. 
 
 The inordinate desire of wealth has been the occasion of 
 more mischief and misery in the world than anything else. 
 Some of the direst evils with which the world has ever been 
 afflicted, have emanated from this source. Xo sooner had 
 Columbus solved the problem of the Western Continent, than 
 the accursed lust of gold began to fire the sordid hearts of his 
 successors. Every species of perfidy, cruelty, and inhumanity, 
 towards the aborigines was practised against them, in order to 
 extort from them their treasures. These mercenary wretches, 
 forcing the natives of Hispaniola so mercilessly to delve and 
 toil for the much coveted ore, that they actually reduced their 
 numbers, within less than half a century, from two millions to 
 about one hundred and fifty. The conquest of Mexico, by 
 Cortez and his followers, impelled by the same insatiable pas 
 sion, was accompanied with horrors, atrocities, and slaughters, 
 more dreadful and revolting than almost*" any recorded iu the 
 annals of our race. To prepare the way for enjoying the 
 plunder they had in view, the unoffending Indians were 
 butchered by thousands ; while carnage and every species of 
 heartless cruelty marked their progress of spoliation. In the 
 siege of Mexico, no less than a hundred thousand of the natives 
 were sacrificed ; and, as if to add to the effrontery and depra 
 vity of the act, it was perpetrated under the standard of the 
 cross, and with the invocation of the God of armies to aid the 
 conquests. The like atrocities characterized the expedition 
 of Pizarro for the conquest of Peru. Under perfidious profes 
 sions of amity, they captured the Inca, butchering some four 
 thousand of his unresisting attendants. The unfortunate ernpe*
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 79 
 
 ror, vainly hoping to regain his freedom, offered them as many 
 vessels of gold as would fill an apartment twenty-four feet long, 
 sixteen wide, and eight high ; and after having dispatched 
 messengers to collect the promised treasures, he had fulfilled 
 his engagement, when they vilely broke truce, and burnt their 
 wretched victim. What a fearful catalogue of crime might be 
 cited from the history of religion Pagan, Papal, and even 
 Christian. The baneful effects of avarice, whether displayed in 
 individual conduct, or among communities of men, are the 
 same. We must content ourselves with referring briefly to a 
 few instances of the former, as illustrative of the force of this 
 debasing evil. 
 
 In the year 1790, died at Paris, literally of want, the well- 
 known banker Ostervald. This miserable victim of this dis 
 ease, a few days prior to his death, resisted the importunities 
 of his attendant to purchase some meat for the purpose of 
 making a little soup for him. " True, I should like the soup," 
 he said, "but I have no appetite for the meat ; what is to 
 become of that ? it will be a sad waste." This poor wretch 
 died possessed of 125,000 sterling. Another desperate case 
 was that of Elwes, whose diet and dress were alike of the most 
 revolting kind, and whose property was estimated at 800,000 
 sterling. Among other characteristic incidents related of 
 him, it is said that on the approach of that dread summons 
 which was to divorce him from his cherished gold, he exclaimed, 
 " I will keep my money nobody shall rob me of my property." 
 We meet with the name of Daniel Dancer, whose miserly pro 
 pensities were indulged to such a degree, that on one occasion, 
 when, at the urgent solicitation of a friend, he ventured to give 
 a shilling to a Jew for an old hat " better as new" to the 
 astonishment of his friend, the next day he actually retailed it 
 for eighteen pence. He was in the habit of carrying a snuff 
 box about with him, not for the purpose of regaling his olfac 
 tory organ, but for what does the reader suppose ? to collect 
 pinches of the aromatic dust from his snuff-taking friends ; and
 
 80 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 when the box was filled, he would barter its contents for n 
 farthing rushlight ! He performed his ablutions at a neigh 
 boring pool, drying himself in the sun, to save the extravagant 
 indulgence of a towel. Other eccentricities are chronicled of 
 this remarkable " case " such as lying in bed during the cold 
 weather to save the cost of fuel, and eating garbage to save 
 the charges for food : yet this poor mendicant had property 
 to the extent of upwards of 3,000 per annum. There was a 
 Russian merchant never mind his name, it is too barbarously 
 burdened with consonants to spell or pronounce who was so 
 prodigiously wealthy, that on one occasion he loaned the 
 empress Catherine the Second a million of rubles, although he 
 lived in the most deplorable state of indigence, privation, and" 
 wretchedness. He buried his money in casks in his cellar, and 
 was so great a miser that he seemed almost to thrive upon his 
 very passion. He had his troubles, however, for reposing his 
 trust for the security of his possessions upon the fierceness and 
 fidelity of his favorite dog, his bulwark of safety failed him. 
 The dog very perversely died, and his master was driven to 
 the disagreeable alternative of officiating iu the place of the 
 deceased functionary, by imitating the canine service going 
 his rounds every evening and barking as well as any human 
 dog could be expected to do. 
 
 M. Yandille, of Paris, was one of the most remarkable 
 instances on record of immense wealth being combined with 
 extreme penuriousness ; he lodged as high up as the roof would 
 admit, as certain poor poets are said to do, and lived on stale 
 bread and diluted milk ; notwithstanding he possessed groat 
 property in the public funds. Chancellor Hardwicke, when 
 worth 800,000, set the same miserly value on a shilling as 
 when he possessed but 100 ; and the great Duke of Marlbo- 
 rough, when near the close of life, was in the habit of exhibit 
 ing singular meanness to save a sixpence, although his pro 
 perty was over a million and a half sterling. The cases we 
 have adduced are extreme instances of tho inflnence of avarice ;
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 81 
 
 but it should not be forgotten that the principle of covetous- 
 ness is the same in its tendency wherever it exists, and it is 
 only in consequence of the counteracting force of circumstances 
 that all its victims fail to present the same degree of degrada 
 tion and wretched moral deformity. 
 
 More recently, we read of an instance which occurred at 
 Xewby, in Westmoreland. This individual, when a young man, 
 became possessed of a little property ; he worked as a laborer, 
 and added to his store ; through a long series of years he 
 scraped and saved, denying himself every comfort and almost 
 real necessaries. During his latter years he lived in a cottage 
 alone, in the most wretched style. Several estates had been 
 mortgaged to him ; and a box which he kept at the foot of his 
 bed, and upon which his eyes were fixed when dying, contained 
 money and securities of the value of 20,000. 
 
 The well-known Xat Bentley (alias Dirty Dick) of London, 
 belongs to this category. This eccentric specimen of humanity 
 was the victim not only to a craving for gold, but also for old 
 iron. We have a dim recollection of the dingy old shop iii 
 Leadenhall street, piled up with heaps of all kinds of old iron 
 and lumber. The last twenty years of his miserable existence 
 were spent in dirt and destitution. Another deplorable case 
 might be cited that of Thomas Pitt, of Warwickshire. All his 
 solicitude was about his money ; his pulse rose and fell with the 
 public funds. He lived over thirty years ensconced in a gloomy 
 garret, never enlivened with light of lamp or fire, or the cheer 
 ing smile of friendship. It is reported, that some weeks prior 
 to the sickness which terminated his despicable career, he went 
 to several undertakers in quest of a cheap coffin. As he lived 
 without the regards, so he died without the regrets, of his 
 neighbors a miserable illustration of the corrupting influence 
 of cupidity. lie left behind him ^2,475 in the public funds. 
 Another instance is that of the notorious Thomas Cook. His 
 ruling passion showed itself in all its intensity at the close 
 of his life, for on his physician intimating the possibility of his 
 
 4*
 
 82 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 not existing more than five or six days, with a fierce look of 
 indignation, he protested against the useless expense of sending 
 him medicine, and charged the doctor never to show* his face to 
 him again. This wretched man died unlamented in his 86th 
 year a long lease shamefully abused and dishonored. His 
 property was estimated at about 130,000 ! How horribly 
 debased a man becomes when he surrenders himself up to the 
 fiendish passion for gain. His influence is moral poison. 
 Audley was another notorious instance. He lived in the days 
 of the Stuarts, and amassed much wealth during the reign of 
 the first Charles, and the Protectorate. He made most of his 
 money by usury and legal chicanery. On one occasion, having 
 obtained for fifty pounds the debt of an insolvent for 200 
 he induces the party under obligation to sign a contract that 
 he should pay, within twenty years from that time, one penny, 
 progressively doubled on the first day of twenty consecutive 
 months, and in case of failure, to forfeit 500. Not suspect 
 ing the cunningly devised cheat, the poor debtor recommences 
 business, succeeds, and at the appointed time is called upon by 
 the miser for the instalments. After making several payments, 
 he began to figure up the amount for which he had made him 
 self liable, in liquidation of his debt of 200. To what sum, 
 do you suppose would his new liabilities amount ? To no less 
 than 2,180! and to what the aggregate sum of all these twenty 
 monthly payments ? Why, the enormous total of four thousand 
 three hundred and sixty-six pounds, eleven shillings, and three 
 pence ! 
 
 Misers like to feast their eyes with their treasure, as well as 
 to handle it. We cite an instance from a recent writer,* to 
 this effect. It is an anecdote related of Sir William Smyth, 
 of Bedfordshire. He was immensely rich, but most parsimo 
 nious and miserly in his habits. At seventy years of age, he was 
 entirely deprived of his sight, unable to gloat over his hoarded 
 
 * Merryweather.
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 83 
 
 heaps of gold ; this was a terrible affliction. He was per 
 suaded by Taylor, the celebrated oculist, to be couched ; who 
 was, by agreement, to have sixty guineas if he restored his 
 patient to any degree of sight. Taylor succeeded in his opera 
 tion, and Sir William was enabled to read and write, 
 without the aid of spectacles, during the rest of his life. But 
 uo sooner was his sight restored, than the baronet began to 
 regret that his agreement had been for so large a sum ; he felt 
 no joy as others would have felt, but grieved and sighed over 
 the loss of his sixty guineas ? His thoughts were now how to 
 cheat the oculist ; he pretended that he had only a glimmering 
 and could see nothing distinctly ; for which reason, the ban 
 dage on his eyes was continued a month longer than the usual 
 time. Taylor was deceived by these misrepresentations, and 
 agreed to compound the bargain, and accepted twenty guineas, 
 instead of sixty. At the time Taylor attended him, he had a 
 large estate, an immense sum of money in the stocks, and six 
 thousand pounds in the house. 
 
 Our last citation exhibits an involuntary case of immolation 
 to Moloch. 
 
 A miser, of the name of Foscue, who had amassed enormous 
 wealth by the most sordid parsimony and discreditable extor 
 tion, was requested by the government to advance a sum of 
 money, as a loan. The miser, to whom a fair interest was not 
 inducement sufficiently strong to enable him to part with his 
 treasured gold, declared his incapacity to meet this demand ; he 
 pleaded severe losses, and the utmost poverty. Fearing, however, 
 that some of his neighbors, among whom he was very unpopular, 
 would report his immense wealth to the government, he applied 
 his ingenuity to discover some effectual way of hiding his gold, 
 should they attempt to institute a search to ascertain the truth 
 or falsehood of his plea. With great care and secrecy, he dug 
 a deep cave in his cellar ; to this receptacle for his treasure he 
 descended by a ladder, and to the trapdoor he attached a 
 spring-lock, so that, on shutting, it would fasten of itself. By-
 
 84 BALAI) FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 and- by the miser disappeared : inquiries were made ; the house 
 was searched ; woods were explored, and the ponds were 
 dragged ; but uo Foscue could they find ; and gossips began 
 to conclude that the miser had fled, with his gold, to some part 
 where, by living incognito, he would be free from the hands of 
 the government. Some time passed on ; the house in which 
 he had lived was sold, and workmen were busily employed in 
 its repair. In the progress of their work they met with the 
 door of the secret cave, with the key iu the lock outside. They 
 threw back the door, and descended with a light. The first 
 object upon which the lamp reflected was the ghastly body of 
 Foscue the miser, and scattered around him were heavy bags 
 of gold, and ponderous chests of untold treasure ; a candlestick 
 lay beside him on the floor. This worshipper of Mammon had 
 gone into his cave, to pay his devoirs to his golden god, and 
 became a sacrifice to his devotion I 
 
 Occasionally, these wretched monopolizers of money are 
 really more indulgent to the world than to themselves. 
 Guyot of Marseilles, was a despised tatterdemalion all his 
 life, yet many benefited by his parsimony. His executors, 
 on opening his will, found these remarkable words : " Having 
 observed, from my infancy, that the poor of Marseilles are ill- 
 supplied with water, which can only be procured at a great 
 price, I have cheerfully labored the whole of my life to procure 
 for them this great blessing, and I direct that the whole of my 
 property shall be expended in building an aqueduct for their 
 use !" 
 
 We might here glance at the effects of an opposite disposition, 
 as illustrated in a few examples of distinguished benevolence. 
 Alfred the Great, among other noble traits of character, 
 exhibited, on a certain occasion, an instance of exemplary 
 sympathy for the suffering, under circumstances which tested 
 unequivocally the goodness of his heart. Shortly after the 
 retreat from his enemies, a beggar came to his little castle, 
 soliciting alms. The queen informed him that they had but one
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 85 
 
 small loaf remaining, which was insufficient for themselves and 
 their friends, who were gone in quest of food, though with little 
 hope of success. The king replied, " Give the poor Christian 
 one half of the loaf. He that could feed five thousand with 
 five loaves and two fishes, can certainly make that half loaf 
 suffice for more than our necessity." His fortitude and faith 
 were rewarded, for the messengers and adherents of the 
 monarch soon after returned with a liberal supply of provisions. 
 The late king of Prussia affords another instance of benevolence. 
 On a certain occasion he rang the bell of his cabinet, but, as 
 nobody answered, he opened the door of the ante-chamber, and 
 found his page fast asleep upon a chair. He went up to awake 
 him ; but, on coming nearer, he observed a paper in his pocket 
 upon which something was written. This excited his curiosity. 
 He pulled it out, and found that it was a letter from the page s 
 mother, the contents of which were nearly as follows : " She 
 returned her son many thanks for the money he had saved out of 
 his salary, and sent to her, and which had proved a very timely 
 assistance. God would certainly reward him for it, and, if he 
 continued to serve God and his king faithfully and conscien 
 tiously, he would not fail of success and prosperity in this 
 world." "Upon reading this the king stepped softly into his 
 closet, fetched a rouleau of ducats, and put it, with the letter, 
 into the page s pocket. He then rang the bell again, till the page 
 awoke, and came into his closet. " You have been asleep, I 
 suppose ?" said the king. The page could not deny it, stam 
 mered out an excuse (in his embarrassment), put his hand into 
 his pocket, and felt the rouleau of ducats. He immediately 
 pulled it out, turned pale, and looked at the king with tears in 
 his eyes. " What is the matter with you ?" said the king. 
 " Oh," replied the page, " somebody has contrived my ruin : I 
 know nothing of this money !" " What God bestows," resum 
 ed the king, " he bestows in sleep. Send the money to your 
 mother give my respects to her, and inform her that I will 
 take care both of her and you. 1
 
 86 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Take a passage from the Life of Washington : " Reuben 
 Rouzy, of Virginia, owed the General about one thousand 
 pounds. While President of the United States, one of his 
 agents brought an action for the money ; judgment was 
 obtained, and execution issued against the body of the defen 
 dant, who was taken to jail. He had a considerable landed 
 estate, but this kind of property cannot be sold in Virginia for 
 debts, unless at the discretion of the owner. He had a large 
 family, and for the sake of his children, preferred lying in jail 
 to selling his land. A friend hinted io him that probably 
 General Washington did not know anything of the proceeding, 
 and that it might be well to send him a petition, with a state 
 ment of the circumstances. He did so, and the very next post 
 from Philadelphia after the arrival of his petition in that city, 
 brought him an order for his immediate release, together with 
 a full discharge, and a severe reprimand to the agent, for 
 having acted in such a manner. Poor Rouzy was, in conse 
 quence, restored to his family, who never laid down their he ads 
 at night without presenting prayers to Heaven for their 
 beloved Washington. Providence smiled upon the labors of 
 the grateful family, and in a few years Rouzy enjoyed the 
 exquisite pleasure of being able to lay the one thousand pounds, 
 with the interest, at the feet of this truly great man. 
 Washington reminded him that the debt was discharged ; 
 Rouzy replied, the debt of his family to the father of their 
 country, and the preserver of their parent could never be 
 discharged : and the general to avoid the pleasing importunity 
 of the grateful Virginian, who would not be denied, accepted 
 the money, only, however, to divide it among Rouzy s children, 
 which he immediately did." 
 
 There is an interesting fact related of the hero of Poland, 
 indicative of his customary practice of almsgiving. Wishing 
 to convey a present to a clerical friend, he gave the commission 
 to a young man of the name of Teltner, desiring him to take 
 the horse which he himself usually rode. On his return, the
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 87 
 
 messenger informed Kosciusko that he would never again ride 
 his horse unless he gave him his purse at the same time : and 
 on the latter inquiring what he meant, he replied : " As soon as 
 a poor man on the road takes off his hat and asks charity, the 
 animal immediately stands still, and will not stir till something 
 is bestowed upon the petitioner ; and as I had no money about 
 me, I had to feign giving in order to satisfy the horse, and in 
 duce him to proceed." This noble creature deserved a pension 
 and exemption from active service for the term of his natural life, 
 on account of his superior education and refined moral sensi 
 bility. 
 
 Among the bright galaxy of noble names, that of John 
 Howard will ever take prominent rank in the list of benefactors. 
 After inspecting the receptacles of crime and poverty through 
 out Great Britain and Ireland, he left his native country, 
 relinquishing his own ease, to visit the wretched abodes of those 
 who were in want, and were bound in fetters of iron in other 
 parts of the world. He travelled three times through France, 
 four through Germany, five through Holland, twice through 
 Italy, once through Spain and Portugal, Russia, Sweden 
 Denmark, and part of Turkey occupying a period of 
 about twelve years. Without the few bright spots in the 
 world s arid waste of selfishness, that occasionally irradiate the 
 gloomy lot of the oppressed and poor, what a dreary life of 
 deprivation and sorrow would be their portion. Man is neces 
 sarily a selfish being to a certain extent, but the social principle 
 is no less an attribute of his nature ; and the divine injunction 
 requiring him to love his neighbor as himself, was doubtless 
 imposed for the preservation of the weak and dependent, as well 
 as being the palladium of all the virtues of our social economy. 
 As a class, the poor are, indeed, often prodigal of their gifts, 
 while the affluent are no less penurious ; the former may 
 almost be said to rob themselves, while the latter defraud 
 society of the common inheritance of mankind. To choose 
 between the two conditions, indeed, were not difficult ; the
 
 88 SALADFOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 "golden mean" neither poverty nor riches should be the 
 aim of all ; yet, in the words of the prince of poets, 
 
 Poor and content, is rich, and rich enough : 
 But riches endless is as poor as winter 
 To him that even fears he shall be poor. 
 
 The author of " Xotes on Life" judiciously sums up the 
 question in the following paragraph. 
 
 " The philosophy which affects to teach us a contempt of 
 money, does not run very deep ; for, indeed, it ought to be still 
 more clear to the philosopher than it is to ordinary men, that 
 there are few things in the world of greater importance. A nd 
 so manifold are the bearings of money upon the lives and cha 
 racters of mankind, that an insight which should search out the 
 life of a man in his pecuniary relations would penetrate into 
 almost every cranny of his nature. He who knows, like St. 
 Paul, both how to spare and how to abound, has a great know 
 ledge ; for if we take account of all the virtues with which 
 money is mixed up honesty, justice, generosity, charity, fru 
 gality, forethought, self-sacrifice and of their correlative vices, 
 it is a knowledge which goes near to cover the length and 
 breadth of humanity ; and a right measure and manner in 
 getting, saving, spending, giving, taking, lending, borrowing, 
 and bequeathing, would almost argue a perfect man." 
 
 We must not forget that, while some few abuse wealth, 
 there are vastly more who know its appropriate use and worth. 
 With such, money is the procurer of our common blessings. 
 Money is then the universal talisman, the mainspring of our 
 social system, the lever that moves the world. Some moderns, 
 like Socrates (who wrote in praise of poverty on a table of 
 solid gold), cynically speak against wealth. It is, however, the 
 great motive agent in all departments of the social economy ; 
 helping on the civilization of the world, and ministering not 
 merely to the elegances, but also the essentials of life. Money
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 89 
 
 represents labor. Au eloquent writer* asks "who can ade 
 quately describe the triumphs of labor, urged on by the potent 
 spell of money ? It has extorted the secrets of the universe, 
 and trained its powers into myriads of forms of use and beauty. 
 From the bosom of the old creation, it has developed anew the 
 creation of industry and art. It has been its task and its 
 glory to overcome obstacles. Mountains have been levelled, 
 and valleys been exalted before it. It has broken the rocky 
 soil into fertile glades ; it has crowned the hill-tops with fruit 
 and verdure, and bound around the very feet of ocean, ridges 
 of golden corn. Up from the sunless and hoary deeps, up 
 from the shapeless quarry, it drags its spotless marbles, and 
 rears its palaces of pomp. It tears the stubborn metals from 
 the bowels of the globe, and makes them ductile to its will. 
 It marches steadily on over the swelling flood, and through the 
 mountain clefts. It fans its way through the winds of ocean, 
 tramples them in its course, surges and mingles them with 
 flakes of fire. Civilization follows in its paths. It achieves 
 grander victories, it weaves more durable trophies, it holds 
 wider sway than the conqueror. His name becomes tainted 
 and his monuments crumble ; but labor converts his red battle 
 fields into gardens, and erects monuments significant of better 
 things. It rides in a chariot driven by the wind. It writes 
 with the lightning. It sits crowned as a queen in a thousand 
 cities, and sends up its roar of triumph from a million wheels. 
 It glistens in the fabric of the loom, it rings and sparkles from 
 the steely hammer, it glories in shapes of beauty, it speaks in 
 words of power, it makes the sinewy arm strong with liberty, 
 the poor man s heart rich with content, crowns the swarthy 
 and sweaty brow with honor, and dignity, and peace." 
 
 We have not mentioned a class who have been styled par 
 venu, such as have acquired wealth, and with it the vulgar 
 passion for display. Such characters are to be found in all 
 
 * Rev. Mr. Chapin.
 
 90 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 communities, but especially in those of recent formation. 
 Unless culture and refinement accompany the possession of 
 great wealth, the deformity is but the more obtrusive. 
 
 " Worth makes the man, the want of it the fellow, 
 The rest is naught but leather and pruuello." 
 
 A gentleman has been defined "a Christian in spirit that 
 will take a polish." The rest are but plated goods, and, what 
 ever their fashion, rub them as you may, the base metal will 
 show itself still. 
 
 Whether in ermine or fustian, there is no disguising charac 
 ter : the refined may be seen in the latter, as palpably as the 
 vulgar in the former : 
 
 " You may daub and bedizen the man as you will, 
 But the stamp of the vulgar remains on him still." 
 
 It is from this class that virtuous poverty has most to suffer. 
 These are they who " grind the faces of the poor," who, not 
 withstanding the proverb that "poverty is no crime," yet treat 
 a man without money as if he were without principle ; who 
 gauge the wit and worth of a man by his wearing-apparel and 
 his wealth \ who deem it absurd for a poor man to assert his 
 possession of intelligence, learning, or, in fact, any endowment 
 whatever. Goldsmith, referring to this depreciating influence 
 of poverty, says a poor man resembles a fiddler, whose music, 
 though liked, is not much praised, because he lives by it ; 
 while a gentleman performer, though the most wretched scraper 
 alive, throws the audience into raptures. 
 
 The want of money but deprives us of friends not worth the 
 keeping : it cuts us out of society to which dress and equipage 
 are the only introduction, and deprives us of a number of need 
 less luxuries and gilded fetters. 
 
 " I am rich enough," says Pope to Swift, " and can afford to 
 give away a hundred pounds a year. I would not crawl upon
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 91 
 
 the earth without doing a little good. I will enjoy the plea 
 sure of what I give by giving it alive, and seeing another enjoy 
 it. "When I die I should be ashamed to leave enough for a 
 monument, if a wanting friend was above ground." That 
 speech of Pope is enough to immortalize him ; independently 
 of his philosophic verse. 
 
 That which was so diligently sought by the alchemists of old, 
 the contented mau has discovered. Contentment is the true 
 philosopher s stone which transmutes all it touches to gold ; 
 and the divine maxim that " a man s life consisteth not in the 
 abundance of the things which he possesseth," is itself a golden 
 maxim. 
 
 "Why need I strive or sigh for wealth? 
 
 It is enough for me 
 That Heaven hath sent me strength and health, 
 
 A spirit glad and free ; 
 Grateful these blessings to receive, 
 I sing my hymn at morn and eve." 
 
 Of all the artificial distinctions which obtain in civilized life, 
 none are more absolute in their nature, or tyrannical in their 
 effects, than those which divide the poor from the rich. Differ 
 ence of condition tends more to disturb the harmony of the 
 social compact, and to annihilate the common sympathies of 
 mankind, than anything else in the world. It not only often 
 sunders the nearest and dearest ties of relationship, but also 
 perverts the best feelings of our nature, and thus becomes the 
 fruitful source of most of the social evils which afflict humanity. 
 Few comparatively become possessed of great wealth, and 
 fewer still of the affluent are found among the magnanimous 
 almoners who delight to minister to the necessities, and mitigate 
 the sufferings of the children of want It is proverbial that 
 the poor are the most generous, and that the acquisition of 
 wealth has a direct tendency to make men selfish and parsimo 
 nious. As a general rule, the opulent become more and more
 
 92 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 the victims of a heartless insensibility to the claims of others 
 in proportion as they indulge a lavish prodigality upon self. 
 What outrage and wrong have been perpetrated by some of 
 the minions of fortune, upon those whom it was their duty to 
 befriend ! " To be able to soften the calamities of mankind," 
 said Melmoth, " and inspire gladness into a heart oppressed 
 with want, is indeed the noblest privilege of fortune ; but to 
 exercise that privilege in all its generous refinements, is an 
 instance of the most uncommon elegance, both of temper and 
 understanding. In the ordinary dispensations of bounty, little 
 address is required ; but when it is to be applied to those of a 
 superior rank and more elevated minds, there is as much 
 charity discovered in the manner as in the measure of our bene 
 volence. It is extremely mortifying to a well-formed spirit to 
 see itself considered an object of compassion ; and it is the part 
 of improved humanity to honor this honest pride in our nature, 
 and to relieve the necessities without offending the delicacy of 
 the distressed." 
 
 Comparatively few homesteads are found exempt from some 
 " poor relation." Indeed, it has become so proverbial, that the 
 very name seems to inspire a feeling of the comic as well as the 
 pathetic. A poor relation, according to Charles Lamb, is the 
 most irrelevant thing in nature a piece of impertinent corres 
 pondency an odious approximation a haunting conscience 
 a preposterous shadow, lengthening in the noontide of our 
 prosperity an unwelcome remembrancer a perpetually-recur 
 ring mortification a drain on your purse, a more intolerable 
 dun than your pride a drawback upon success a rebuke to 
 your rising a stain in your blood a blot on your escutcheon 
 a rent in your garment an apology to your friends the 
 one thing not needful the hail in harvest the ounce of sour 
 in a pound of sweet. He is all this ; and, more than all the 
 rest, he is a severe test upon the claims of consanguinity ; and 
 often the only link that binds the poor neglected object to his 
 " kith and kin," is the fear of the world s scorn and reproba-
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 93 
 
 tiou, which most men " well to do in the world " have not the 
 hardihood to brave. 
 
 Touching " poor .relations," we are reminded of the amusing 
 instance of the sister of Sir George Rose, speaker of the House 
 of Commons. Margaret Rose was proof against the meanness 
 and insensibility of her brother, and bravely resented his inhu 
 manity in the following manner. She hired a small cottage on 
 the road-side, leading to the country mansion of Sir George, 
 ami placed over the door this intimation, for the especial benefit 
 of the baronet s friends. 
 
 MARGARET ROSE, 
 
 SISTER OF SIR GEORGE ROSE, 
 TAKES IX WASHING HERE. 
 
 The ingenious expedient had its effect upon the vanity and 
 heartless selfishness of Sir George, who immediately sent word 
 to her that if she would take down her sign he would give her 
 an annuity for life. This offer, it is said, however, the high- 
 minded lady indignantly disdained to accept, preferring rather 
 to punish the titled offender against humanity and decency, 
 although at her own cost. This is but the type of a class still 
 extant. 
 
 The French, whose imaginative faculty is in advance even 
 of the gravity of their matter-of-fact neighbors on the opposite 
 side of the channel, thus reduce our theme into the form of an 
 enigma. 
 
 There is a being who is a citizen of the world, who travels 
 incessantly. The air is not more subtle ; water is not more 
 fluid. He removes everything replaces everything. He is 
 mute, yet speaks all languages, and is the most eloquent of 
 orators. He appeases all quarrels, all tumults, and he foments 
 and encourages all laws and lawsuits. He excites courage, and 
 instigates cowardice ; braves all seas, breaks down all barriers,
 
 94 SALAD FOK THE SOCIAL. 
 
 and will never sojourn anywhere. He diminishes all geographi 
 cal distances, and increases all moral ones. He makes rougher 
 all social inequalities, or levels them. He has power over all 
 trades. He procures repose, and banishes sleep. He is the 
 strong arm of tyranny, and the guarantee of independence. 
 Virtue despises, and yet cannot do without him. His presence 
 gives birth to pride ; his absence humbles it. He is audacious, 
 imperious, and impudent : he is benevolent, and willing to 
 relieve. He is the best of friends, and the most dangerous of 
 enemies ; the wisest, and most fatal of advisers. At the voice 
 of the prodigal, he transforms his land and house iuto dust 
 which may be given to the winds ; and he assists the provident 
 man to heap up his savings. Innocent himself, he corrupts 
 innocence. He provokes all crimes, protects all vices, and 
 attacks all virtues. He is no less the idol of universal worship. 
 Nations, individuals contend for his exclusive possession, 
 although he is their mutual and necessary interpreter. He 
 causes pleasure and satiety. He is equally serviceable to 
 caprices and wants, as to taste and passions. He gives nourish 
 ment and toys to infancy, and he is nourishment and toys to 
 old age. He conveys bread to the mouth of the paralytic, and 
 daggers to the hand of the assassin. He is deaf to the poor 
 who implore him, and he forces himself upon the rich who 
 prostitute him. He is the maker of all marriages, and the 
 divider of all families. His natural, disposition is to travel 
 unceasingly. He is fit for every kind of service, but withal a 
 wanderer. If he comes to you, it is but to leave you. If you 
 retain him, he is good for nothing he sleeps. Take care that 
 he returns, for he knows how to do everything ; he is success 
 ful in all. If you want employment, orders, titles, honors, or 
 even absolutions, address yourself to him ; he knows all the 
 magazines ; he has all the keys. Are you weak, or powerful ? 
 No matter, he will make you either a Croesus or an Irus. 
 He is in the midst of all good and all evil. He burned
 
 THE MODERN MOLOCH. 
 
 95 
 
 Copenhagen, and built Petersburg!). He is inactive, and yet 
 the universal mover. He is inanimate, yet the soul of the 
 world. In the plenitude of his power, would he bestow health, 
 he sends Hippocrates ; would he defy death, he raises pyra 
 mids. Lastly, sprung from the dirt, he is regarded as a divinity. 
 But of whom or what are we speaking ?
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 
 
 " Smilingly fronting the mirror she stands, 
 Her white fingers loosening the prisoned brown bands 
 To wander at will and they kiss, as they go, 
 Her brow, and her cheek, and her shoulders of snow. 
 Her violet eyes, with their soft, changing light, 
 Growing darker when sad, and when merry more bright, 
 Look in at the image, till the lips of the twain 
 Smile at seeing how each gives the smile back again." 
 
 Dean Swift proposed to tax female beauty, and to leave 
 every lady to rate her own charms. He said the tax would be 
 cheerfully paid, and very productive. 
 
 The intimate relations between woman s beauty, and her 
 toilet-glass render it impossible for the fair possessor to be 
 unconscious of her endowment, and consequently it would be 
 always at a premium. We remember a young surgeon once 
 professed he would any day prefer a good dissection to a good 
 
 dinner ; we question his taste, and if the dinner challenge were 
 9:
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 97 
 
 presented to us, in behalf of beauty, we would greatly prefer to 
 accept of it. A good dinner, it is true, makes its appeal to 
 the hungry, but a vision of beauty is a delectation to the eye, 
 if less substantial, far more refining. 
 
 Beauty is inflexible : it appears to us a dream, when we 
 contemplate the works of the great artists ; it is a hovering, 
 floating, and glittering shadow, whose outline eludes the grasp 
 of definition. Mendelsshon, the philosopher, grandfather of the 
 composer, and others, tried to catch Beauty as a butterfly, and 
 {tin it down for inspection. They have succeeded in the same 
 way as they are likely to succeed with a butterfly. The poor 
 animal trembles and struggles, and its brightest colors are 
 gone ; or, if you catch it without spoiling the colors, you have 
 at best a stiff and awkward corpse. But a corpse is not an 
 entire animal, it wants what is essential in all things, namely, 
 life spirit, which sheds beauty on everything.* 
 
 Lord Bacon observed justly, that the best part of beauty is 
 that which a picture cannot express. 
 
 Beauty is indescribable and inexplicable ; it fascinates, 
 dazzles, and bewilders us with its mystic power. Woman has 
 been defined something midway between a flower and an angel ; 
 as the sunny half of earth. It has been well said that woman s 
 beauty does not consist merely in what is called a pretty face. 
 An old lyric writer of the seventeenth century thus apostro 
 phizes it. 
 
 " There is a garden in her face, 
 
 Where roses and and white lilies grow ; 
 
 A heavenly Paradise is that place, 
 Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow. 
 
 There cherries grow, that none may buy 
 
 Till cherry ripe themselves do cry. 
 
 " These cherries fairly do enclose 
 Of orient pearl a double row, 
 
 * Goethe.
 
 08 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Which when her lovely laughter shows, 
 
 They look like rosebuds filled with snow : 
 Yet these no peer, nor prince, may buy, 
 Till cherry ripe themselves do cry. 
 
 " Her eyes, like angels, watch them still ; 
 
 Her brows, like bended bows, do stand, 
 Threatening, with piercing frowns to kill 
 
 All that approach with eye or hand, 
 Those sacred cherries to come nigh, 
 Till cherry ripe themselves do cry. 
 
 " Women are the poetry of the world, in the same sense as 
 the stars are the poetry of heaven. Clear, light-giving 1 , harmo 
 nious, they are the terrestial planets that rule the destines of 
 mankind."* 
 
 " I saw her, upon nearer view, 
 
 A spirit, yet a woman too. 
 
 Her household motions light and free, 
 
 And steps of virgin liberty ; 
 
 A countenance in which did meet 
 
 Sweet records, promises as sweet. 
 
 A creature not two bright or good 
 
 For human nature s daily food, 
 
 For transient sorrows, simple wiles, 
 
 Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and pmiles." 
 
 Wordsworth s charming portraiture of womanly sweetness is 
 worthy alike of the subject and the writer : it is doubtless 
 familiar to the reader. 
 
 Another pen has dilated upon it in prose, as followeth : 
 Those who are accustomed to enlightened views of female 
 beauty, well know that there are different kinds of personal 
 beauty, among which that of form and coloring hold a very 
 inferior rank. There is a beauty of expression, for instance, of 
 sweetness, of nobility, of intellectual refinement, of feeling, of 
 animation, of meekness, of resignation, and many other kinds of 
 beauty, which may be allied to the plainest features, and yet 
 
 * Hargrave.
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 99 
 
 may remain to give pleasure long after the blooming cheek has 
 faded, and silver grey has mingled with the hair. And how 
 far more powerful in their influence upon others, are some of 
 those kinds of beauty ! For, after all, beauty depends more 
 upon the movement of the face, than upon the form of the 
 features when at rest ; and thus, a countenance habitually 
 under the influence of amiable feelings, acquires a beauty of the 
 highest order, from the frequency with which such feelings are 
 the originating causes of the movement or expressions which 
 stamp their character upon it. Who has not waited for the 
 first opening of the lips of a celebrated belle, to see whether her 
 claims would be supported by " the mind, the music breathing 
 from her face f and who has not occasionally turned away 
 repelled by the utter blank, or worse than blank, which the 
 simple movement of the mouth in speaking or smiling, has 
 revealed ? The language of poetry describes the loud laugh as 
 indicative of the vulgar mind ; and certainly there are expres 
 sions, conveyed through the medium of a smile, which need not 
 Lavatcr to inform us that refinement of feeling, or elevation of 
 soul, has little to do with the fair countenance on which they 
 are impressed. On the other hand, there are plain women 
 sometimes met in society, every movement of whose features is 
 instinct with intelligence ; who, from the genuine heart-warm 
 smiles which play about the mouth, the sweetly modulated 
 voice, and the lighting up of an eye, that looks as if it could 
 " comprehend the universe," becomes perfectly beautiful to 
 those who live with them and love them. Before such preten 
 sions as these, how soon does the pink-and-white of a merely 
 pretty face vanish to nothing ! 
 
 Among the many tributes to beauty is an old epigram, that 
 may be new to some it runs as follows, 
 
 " This world s a prison, a sad gloomy den, 
 
 Whose walls are the heavens in common : 
 The jailer is Sin and the prisoners men, 
 And the fetters are nothing but women."
 
 100 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Fontenelle thus daintily compliments the sex, when he com 
 pares women and clocks the latter serve to point out the hours, 
 the former to make us forget them. 
 
 There is a magic power in beauty that all confess a strange 
 witchery that fascinates and enchants us with a potency as 
 irresistible as that of the magnet. It is to the moral world 
 what gravitation is to the physical. It is easier to write 
 about beauty in woman and its all-pervading influence, than to 
 define what it is : and, to aid in the dilemma, we cite from an 
 old French writer, its elements in detail : 
 
 " Thirty points of perfection each judge understands, 
 The standard of feminine beauty demands, 
 Three white : and, without further prelude, we know, 
 That the skin, hands, and teeth should be pearly as snow. 
 Three black : and our standard departure forbids 
 From dark eyes, darksome tresses, and darkly fringed lids. 
 Three red : and the lover of comeliness seeks 
 For the hue of the rose in the lips, nails, and cheeks. 
 Three long : and of this you, no doubt, are aware. 
 Long the body should be, long the hands, long the hair. 
 Three short : and herein nicest beauty appears 
 Feet short as a fairy s, short teeth, and short ears. 
 Three large : and remember this rule, as to size, 
 Embraces the shoulders, the forehead, the eyes. 
 Three narrow :- a maxim to every man s taste 
 Circumference small in mouth, ankle, and waist. 
 Three round : and in this I see infinite charms 
 Rounded fullness apparent in leg. hip, and arms. 
 Three fine : and can aught the enchantment eclipse, 
 Of fine tapering fingers, fine tresses, fine lips ? 
 Three small : and my thirty essentials are told 
 Small head, nose, and bosom compact in its mould. 
 Now the dame who comprises attractions like these, 
 Will need not the cestus of Venus to please : 
 While he who has met with an union so rare, 
 Has had better luck than has fall n to my share." 
 
 It has been observed that God intended all women to be
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 
 
 brautifnl, as much as he did the morning-glories and the roses. 
 
 Beauty is 
 
 " Like the sweet South, 
 That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
 Stealing, and giving odor." 
 
 Ideal beauty, as well as beautiful objects of art and nature, 
 affect us with a sort of sweet contagion. In the contempla 
 tion of a fine picture, we drink in the spirit of beauty through 
 the eye ; and this is probably the reason why lovely women 
 are occasionally addicted to aesthetics the study of their 
 charms in the mirror. 
 
 Milton supposes Eve was fascinated with her own charms as 
 mirrored in the waters of Paradise, and her daughters have 
 faithfully followed her example, for they are seldom disinclined 
 to contemplate ideal beauty in their own symmetrical forms 
 and features. If the "proper study of mankind is man," why 
 may not woman be allowed a like privilege, for thereby a 
 blemish may be removed and many a charm heightened. 
 
 The love of ornament creeps slowly, but surely, into the 
 female heart ; the girl who twines the lily in her tresses, and 
 looks at herself in the clear stream, will soon wish that the lily 
 was fadeless, and the stream a mirror.* 
 
 Southey, in his Omniana, relates the following : " When 
 I was last in Lisbon, a nun made her escape from the nunnery. 
 The first thing for which she inquired when she reached the 
 house in which she was to be secreted, was a looking-glass. She 
 had entered the convent when only five years old, and from 
 that time had never seen her own face." There was some 
 excuse for her. 
 
 A mirror has been thus variously described, as the only 
 truth-teller in general favor a journal in which Time records 
 his travels a smooth acquaintance, but no flatterer. We may 
 add, that it is the only tolerated medium of reflection upon 
 
 * Mrs. S. C. Hall.
 
 102 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 woman s beauty, and the last discarded ; and Queen Elizabeth, 
 we learn, did not desert her looking-glass while there was any 
 vestige left in the way of beauty with which to regale herself.* 
 
 The standards of beauty in woman vary with those of taste. 
 Socrates called beauty a short-lived tyranny ; Plato, a privi 
 lege of nature ; Thcophrastus, a silent cheat ; Theocritus, a 
 delightful prejudice ; Carneades, a solitary kingdom ; and 
 Aristotle affirmed that it was better than all the letters of 
 recommendation in the world. 
 
 In truth, it is difficult to form any notions of beauty. 
 Qualities of personal attraction, the most opposite imaginable, 
 are each looked upon as beautiful in different countries, or by 
 different people in the same country. " That which is deformity 
 at Paris, may be beauty at Pekin ? 
 
 " Beauty, thou wild fantastic ape 
 
 Who dost iu every country change thy shape ; 
 
 Here black, there brown, here tawny, and there white ! 
 
 The frantic lover sees " Helen s beauty in an Egyptian 
 brow." The black teeth, the painted eyelids, the plucked eye 
 brows of the Chinese fair, have admirers ; and should their feet 
 be large enough to walk upon, their owners are regarded as 
 monsters of ugliness. The Lilliputian dame is the beau ideal 
 of perfection in the eyes of a northern gallant ; while in Pata 
 gonia they have a Polyphemus-standard of beauty. Some of 
 the North American nations tie four boards round the heads 
 of their children, and thus squeeze them, while the bones are 
 yet tender, into a square form. Some prefer the form of a 
 sugarloaf ; others have a quarrel with the natural shortness 
 
 * When Queen Elizabeth was far advanced in life, she ordered all pictures of herself 
 painted by artists who liad not flattered her ugliness, to be collected and burned, and 
 in 1593 issued a proclamation forbidding all persons save " special cunning painters" to 
 draw her likeness. She quarrelled at last with her looking-glass, as well as v. ith her 
 painters. During the last years of her life, the maids of honor removed mirrors as they 
 would have removed poison from the apartments of royal pride. It is said that at the 
 time of her death, her wardrobe contained more than two thousand dresses.
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES 103 
 
 of the ears, and therefore from infancy these are drawn down 
 upon the shoulders ! 
 
 With the modern Greeks, and other nations on the shores of 
 the Mediterranean, corpulency is the perfection of form in a 
 woman ; and those very attributes which disgust the western 
 European, form the attractions of an oriental fair. It was 
 from the common and admired shape of his countrywomen, that 
 Rubens in his pictures delights so much in a vulgar and odious 
 plumpness : when this master was desirous to represent the 
 " beautiful," he had no idea of beauty under two hundred 
 weight. His very Graces are all fat. But it should be 
 remembered that all his models were Dutch women. 
 
 The hair is a beautiful ornament of woman, but it has always 
 been a disputed point which color most becomes it. We 
 account red hair an abomination ; but in the time of Elizabeth 
 it found admirers, and was in fashion. Mary of Scotland, 
 though she had exquisite hair of her own, wore red fronts. 
 Cleopatra was red-haired ; and the Venetian ladies to this day 
 counterfeit yellow hair. 
 
 Lord Shaftesbury asserts that all beauty is truth. True 
 features make the beauty of a face ; and true proportions the 
 beauty of architecture ; as true measures that of harmony and 
 music. In poetry, which is all fable, truth still is the perfec 
 tion. 
 
 It has been with no less truth observed, that homely women 
 are altogether the best at heart, head and soul. A pretty face 
 often presides over a false heart and a weak head, with the 
 smallest shadow of a soul. 
 
 " The bombastic misrepresentations of the encomiasts of 
 Beauty," observed Ayton, " have exposed her just claims to much 
 odium and ill-will. If a perfect face is the only bait that can 
 tempt an angel from the skies, he adds, what is to be the recom 
 pense of the unfortunate with a wide mouth and a turn-up 
 nose ? The conduct of men, since the deluge, has proved) 
 however, that love (the true thing) is not mere fealty to a face.
 
 104 SALAD FOE THE SOCIAL. 
 
 If an ugly woman of wit and worth cannot be loved till she is 
 known a beautiful fool will cease to please when she is found 
 out." 
 
 In the words of a contemporary : 
 
 " Woman has never failed, since the world began, to illus 
 trate, in instances, the glory of her nature never ceased to 
 manifest the divine in the human. With the regal Esther, 
 yearning to bless her enslaved kindred, and the filial-love in 
 spired daughter, who sustained the life of her grey-haired father 
 through a prison s bars, there have not been parallels wanting 
 in all ages, to prove that the angels of God still wander on 
 earth, to remind man of Eden, and give him a foretaste of 
 heaven." 
 
 Of such type of virtue, were Penelope, weaving amid her 
 maidens through weary years the web that shielded her virtue 
 until her royal husband returned from his wanderings, and was 
 to gladden her heart ; or, courteous Rebecca, at the well ; or, 
 timid Ruth, gleaning in the field ; or, nobler still, the Roman 
 Cornelia, who, taunted in Rome s decaying age by rivals with 
 her poverty, held up her virtuous children, exclaiming " These 
 are my jewels !" Fit woman to have been the " mother of the 
 Gracchi." 
 
 Richter observes, " A woman s soul is by nature a beautiful 
 fresco-painting, painted on rooms, clothes, silver waiters, and 
 upon the whole domestic establishment." 
 
 Beautiful women may be admired, but who can refrain from 
 loving the impersonation of grace and virtue we every day 
 encounter in the charmed circles of domestic life. Love is a 
 hallowed passion ; it is angel-like a gleam of the celestial to 
 gladden the dark places of our earthly pilgrimage. 
 
 " She was a queen of noble Nature s crowning, 
 A smile of hers was like an act of grace ; 
 She had no winsome looks, no pretty frowning, 
 Like daily beauties of the vulgar race : 
 But if she smiled, a light was on her face ;
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 105 
 
 A clear, cool kindliness, a lunar beam 
 Of peaceful radiance, silvering in the stream, 
 Of human thought of unabiding glory, 
 Not quite awaking truth, not quite a dream, 
 A visitation bright and transitory." 
 
 It is not the smiles of a pretty face the delicate tint of 
 complexion the enchanting glance of the eye the beauty and 
 symmetry of person nor the costly dress or decorations, that 
 compose woman s loveliness. It is her pleasing deportment 
 her chaste conversation the sensibility and purity of her 
 thoughts her affable and open disposition her sympathy 
 with those in adversity her comforting and relieving the 
 afflicted and distressed, and, above all, the humbleness of her 
 soul, that constitute true loveliness. 
 
 D Israeli observes, " It is at the foot of woman we lay the 
 laurels that, without her smile, would never have been gained : 
 it is her image that strings the lyre of the poet, that animates 
 the voice in the blaze of eloquent faction, and guides the brain 
 in the august toils of stately councils. Whatever may be the 
 lot of man however unfortunate, however oppressed if he 
 only love and be loved, he must strike a balance in favor of 
 existence ; for love can illumine the dark roof of poverty, and 
 can lighten the fetters of the slave. 
 
 " Honored be woman, she beams on the sight 
 Graceful and fair like a being of light, 
 Scatters around her wherever she strays 
 Roses of bliss on our thorn-covered ways, 
 Roses of Paradise fresh from above 
 To be gathered and twined in a garland of love."* 
 
 Comets, doubtless, answer some wise and good purpose 
 in the creation ; so do women. Comets are incomprehensible, 
 beautiful, and eccentric ; so are women. Comets shine with 
 peculiar splendor, but at night appear most brilliant ; so do 
 
 * Hood. 
 
 5*
 
 ]06 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 women. Comets confound the most learned, when they 
 attempt to ascertain their nature ; so do women. Comets 
 equally excite the admiration of the philosopher and of the 
 clod of the valley ; so do women. Comets and women, there 
 fore, are closely analogous ; but the nature of which being 
 inscrutable, all that remains for us to do is, to view with admi 
 ration the one, and, almost to adoration, love the other.* 
 
 It was probably under such hallucination that the following 
 confession of returning consciousness was perpetrated : 
 
 " \Vhen Eve brought woe to all mankind, 
 
 Old Adam called her wo-man ; 
 And when he found she wooed so kind, 
 
 He then pronounced her woo-man. 
 But now. with smiles aud artful wiles, 
 
 Their husbands pockets trimmin , 
 The women are so full of whims, 
 
 That people call them whim-men." 
 
 An old author quaintly remarks : Avoid argument with 
 ladies. In spinning yarns among silks and satins a man is sure 
 to be worsted and twisted. And when a man is worsted and 
 twisted, he may consider himself wound up. 
 
 After all that may be said or sung about it, beauty is an 
 undeniable fact, and its endowment not to be disparaged. 
 Sidney Smith gives some good advice on the subject. 
 
 " Never teach false morality. How exquisitely absurd to 
 teach a girl that beauty is of no value, dress of no use ! 
 Beauty is of value her whole prospects and happiness in life 
 may often depend upon a new gown or a becoming bonnet ; if 
 she has five grains of common sense, she will find this out. The 
 great thing is to teach her their just value, and that there 
 must be something better under the bonnet, than a pretty face, 
 for real happiness. But never sacrifice truth." 
 
 " Xo persons have a more hyperbolical opinion of the power 
 
 * Rymett.
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 107 
 
 and glory of beauty, than the unelect ; and hinc ilia lachryma ; 
 hence undoubtedly their peevishness and spite. If an ugly 
 woman of wit and worth cannot be loved till she is known a 
 beautiful fool will cease to please when she is found out. In 
 stantaneous and universal admiration the eye-worship of the 
 world, is unquestionably the reward of the best faces ; and the 
 malcontents had much better come into the general opinion 
 with a good grace, than be making themselves at once unhappy 
 and ridiculous, by their hollow and self-betraying recusancy."* 
 Now an ill-conditioned countenance, accompanied, as it always 
 is of course, with shining abilities and all the arts of pleasing, 
 has this signal compensation that it improves under observa 
 tion, grows less and less objectionable the more you look into 
 it and the better you know it, till it becomes almost agreeable 
 on its own account nay, really so actually pretty ; whereas 
 beauty, we have seen, witless beauty, cannot resist the test of 
 long acquaintance, but declines, as you gaze, while in the full 
 pride of its perfection ; " fades on the eye and palls upon the 
 sense," with all its bloom about it. Young thus apostrophizes 
 the union of moral and physical graces : 
 
 "When charms of mind, 
 With elegance of outward form are joined : 
 When youth makes such bright objects still more bright, 
 And fortune gets them in the strongest light ; 
 Tis all of Heaven that we below may view, 
 And all but adoration is their due." 
 
 Another authority affirms : If its possession, as is too often 
 the case, turns the head, while its loss sours the temper ; if the 
 long regret of its decay outweighs the fleeting pleasure of its 
 bloom, the plain should rather pity than envy the handsome. 
 Beauty of countenance, which, being the light of the soul shin 
 ing through the face, is independent of features or complexion, 
 and is the most attractive, as well as the most enduring charm. 
 
 * Ayton s Essays,
 
 108 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Nothing but talent and amiability can bestow it, no statue or 
 picture can rival, time itself cannot destroy it. 
 
 A good and true woman is said to resemble a Cremona fiddle 
 in one respect age increases its worth and sweetens its tone 
 Gay has some well-remembered lines apposite to our point : 
 
 " What is the blooming tincture of the skin, 
 To peace of mind and harmony within ? 
 What the bright sparkling of the finest eye, 
 To the soft soothing of a calm reply ? 
 Can comeliness of form, or shape, or air, 
 With comeliness of words or deeds compare? 
 No, those at first the unwary heart may gain, 
 But these, these only, can the heart retain." 
 
 Thomas Carew thus apostrophizes female beauty : 
 
 " He that loves a rosy cheek. 
 
 Or a coral lip admires, 
 Or from star-like eyes doth seek 
 
 Fuel to maintain his fires, 
 As old Time makes these decay 
 So his flames must waste away ; 
 But a smooth and steadfast mind, 
 
 Gentle thoughts and calm desires, 
 Heerts with equal love combined, 
 
 Kindle never-dying fires. 
 Where these are not, I despise 
 Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes." 
 
 Byron also condenses the same sentiment in a single line 
 " Heart on her lips, and soul within her eyes." 
 
 The last word eyes, and the eloquent language they 
 express have been a prolific theme with the poets. Some have 
 dilated on their brilliancy till they have been bewildered and 
 blinded to all things else around them, and some are fastidious 
 as to their color, size and expression. One thus describes the 
 respective claims of black and blue :
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 109 
 
 Black eyes most dazzle at a ball : 
 Blue eyes most please at evening fall. 
 Black a conquest soonest gain ; 
 The blue a conquest most retain ; 
 The black bespeak a lively heart, 
 "Whose soft emotions soon depart ; 
 The blue a steadier flame betray, 
 That burns and lives beyond a day ; 
 The black may features best disclose ; 
 In blue may feelings all repose. 
 Then let each reign without control, 
 The black all mind the blue all soul. 
 
 Leigh Hunt says of those who have thin lips, and are not 
 shrews or niggards I must give here as my firm opinion, 
 founded on what I have observed, that lips become more or 
 less contracted in the course of years, in proportion as they are 
 accustomed to express good humor and generosity, or peevishness 
 and a contracted mind. Remark the effect which a moment 
 of ill-humor and grudgingness has upon the lips, and judge what 
 may be expected from an habitual series of such moments. 
 Remark the reverse, and make a similar judgment. The 
 mouth is the frankest part of the face ; it can the least conceal 
 its sensations. We can hide neither ill-temper with it, nor 
 good ; we may affect what we please, but affectation will not 
 help us. In a wrong cause it will only make our observers 
 resent the endeavor to impose upon them. The mouth is the 
 seat of one class of emotions, as the eyes are of another ; or 
 rather, it expresses the same emotions but in greater detail, 
 and with a more irrepressible tendency to be in motion. It is 
 the region of smiles and dimples, and of trembling tenderness ; 
 of a sharp sorrow, of a full breathing joy, of candor, of reserve, 
 of a carking care, of a liberal sympathy. 
 
 There is a charm that brighter grows 
 
 Mid beauty s swift decay, 
 And o er the heart a glory throws, 
 
 That will not fade away.
 
 110 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 AVlien beauty s voice and beauty s glance, 
 
 The heart no longer move. 
 This holy charm will still entrance, 
 
 And wake the spirit s love. 
 
 Woman may be said almost to enjoy the monopoly of personal 
 beauty. A good-humored writer thus defines her position in 
 this respect as contrasted with the opposite sex : 
 
 If you, ladies, are much handsomer than we, it is but just 
 you should acknowledge that we have helped you, by volun 
 tarily making ourselves ugly. Your superiority in beauty is 
 made up of two things ; first, the care which you take to 
 increase your charms ; secondly, the zeal which we have shown 
 to heighten them by the contrast of our finished ugliness the 
 shadow which we supply to your sunshine. 
 
 Your long, pliant, wavy tresses are all the more beautiful 
 because we cut our hair short ; your hands are all the whiter, 
 smaller and more delicate, because we reserve to ourselves those 
 toils and exercises which make the hands large and hard. 
 
 "We have devoted entirely to your use flowers, feathers, rib 
 bons, jewelry, silks, gold and silver embroidery. Still more to 
 increase the difference between the sexes, which is your greatest 
 charm, and to give you the handsome share, we have divided 
 with you the hues of nature. To you we have given the colors 
 that are rich and splendid, or soft and harmonious ; for our 
 selves we have kept those that are dark and dead. We have 
 given you sun and light ; we have kept night and darkness. 
 
 We have monopolized the hard, stony roads that enlarge the 
 feet; we have let you walk only on carpets. 
 
 Long hair in woman is an essential element of beauty. The 
 Roman ladies generally wore it long, and dressed it in a variety 
 of ways, bedecking it with gold, silver, pearls, and other orna 
 ments. On the contrary, the men amongst the Greeks and 
 Romans, and amongst the Jews at a later period, wore their 
 hair short, as may be collected from books, medals, statues, and 
 other models or remains. Amongst the Greeks we know that
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. Ill 
 
 both sexes, a few days before marriage, cut off and consecrated 
 their hair as an offering to their favorite deities. It was also 
 customary amongst them to hang the hair of the dead on the 
 doors of their houses previous to interment. The ancients 
 imagined that no one could die till a lock of hair was cut off ; 
 and this act they supposed was performed by the invisible 
 hand of death, or some other messenger of the gods. 
 
 " How often do we see a really good face made quite ugly 
 by a total inattention to lines. Sometimes the hair is 
 pushed into the cheeks, and squared at the forehead, so as to 
 give a most extraordinary pinched shape to the face. Let 
 the oval, where it exists, be always preserved : where it does 
 not, let the hair be so humored that the deficiency shall 
 not be perceived. Nothing is more common than to see a face 
 which is somewhat too large below, made to look grossly 
 large and coarse, by contracting the hair on the forehead and 
 cheek ; but the hair should be made to fall partially over, so 
 as to shade and soften off the lower exuberance. A good 
 treatise, with examples in outline of the defects, would be of 
 some value upon a lady s toilet, who would wish to preserve 
 her great privilege the supremacy of beauty. Some press 
 the hair down close to the face, which is to lose the very cha 
 racteristic of hair ease and freedom. Let her locks, said 
 Anacreon, lie as they like ; the Greek gives them life and a 
 will. Some ladies wear the hair like blinkers ; you always 
 suspect they will shy if you approach them. A lady s head 
 dress, whether in a portrait or for her daily wear, should, as 
 in old portraits by Rembrandt and Titian, go off into shade, 
 not to be seen too clearly, and hard or round."* 
 
 The custom of decking the hair with pearls and gems, although 
 not a modern invention, is still in vogue with royalty and 
 courtly circles ; yet the author of The Honeymoon, thus repu 
 diates the fashion : 
 
 * Blackwood.
 
 112 SALAD FOR THE 8OCIAL. 
 
 " Thus modestly attired, 
 
 A half-blown rose stuck in tby braided hair, 
 With no more diamonds than those eyes are made of, 
 No deeper rubies than compose thy lips, 
 Nor pearls more precious than inhabit them ; 
 With the pure red and white, which that same hand 
 Which blends the rainbow, mingles in thy cheeks ; 
 This well-proportioned form (think not I flatter) 
 In graceful motion to harmonious sounds, 
 And thy free tresses dancing in the wind, 
 Thou lt fix as much observance, as chaste dames 
 Can meet, without a blush." 
 
 The Roman patrician ladies had from two to three hundred 
 slaves chiefly appointed to attend their persons. Their hair 
 used to be perfumed and powdered with gold dust. 
 
 " Of all the articles of luxury and ostentation known to the 
 Romans, pearls seem to have been the most esteemed. They 
 were worn on all parts of the dress, and such was the diversity 
 of their size, purity, and value, that they were found to suit 
 all classes, from those of moderate to those of the most colossal 
 fortune. The famous pearl earrings of Cleopatra are said to 
 have been worth about 160,000, and Julius Caesar is said to 
 have presented Servilia, the mother of Brutus, with a pearl for 
 which he bad paid above 48,000 ; and though no reasonable 
 doubt can be entertained in regard to the extreme exaggeration 
 of these and similar statements, the fact that the largest and 
 finest pearls brought immense prices is beyond all question. 
 It has been said that the wish to become master of the pearls 
 with which it was supposed to abound, was one of the motives 
 which induced Julius Caesar to invade Britain. But, though a 
 good many were met with in various parts of the country, they 
 were of little or no value, being small and ill-colored. After 
 pearls and diamonds, the emerald held the highest place in 
 the estimation of the Romans."* 
 
 In France, during the reign of Louis XIY. the use of dia- 
 
 * M Culloch.
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 113 
 
 monds revived. Robes were embroidered with them, and 
 besides necklaces, aigrettes, and bracelets, they were employed 
 to ornament the stomachers, shoulders, waistbands, and skirts 
 of the dress. This costly fashion subsided about the end of 
 the French Revolution. 
 
 The favorites of fortune are too frequently the servile vota 
 ries of fashion ; and this passion for dress entails many social 
 evils. While it fosters imperious pride in its victim, it destroys 
 all the finer sensibilities of our nature. The gentle hand of 
 charity, that ministers to the children of want, belongs not to 
 the flaunting lady of fashion ; her ambition is rather to dazzle 
 and bewilder the gazing, thoughtless multitude to become the 
 " cynosure of all eyes." To the reflective mind, such a 
 spectacle is suggestive of emotions far opposite to those of 
 pleasure. To such the luxury of doing good is unknown ; for 
 their benefactions, instead of being diffusive, are directed 
 exclusively to self. Self is the idol they adore and worship ; 
 it is idolatry of the worst type, and the most to be deprecated 
 by noble minds. 
 
 " There are certain moralists in the world, who labor under 
 the impression that it is no matter what people wear, or how 
 they put on their apparel. Such people cover themselves up 
 they do not dress. No one doubts that the mind is more 
 important than the body, the jewel than the setting ; and 
 yet the virtue of the one and the brilliancy of the other is 
 enhanced by the mode in which they are presented to the 
 senses. Let a woman have every virtue under the sun, if 
 she is slatternly, or even inappropriate in her dress, her merits 
 will be more than half obscured. If, being young, she is untidy, 
 or, being old, fantastic, or slovenly, her mental qualifications 
 stand a chance of being passed over with indifference."* 
 
 A right loyal scribe thus enacts the champiou for beauty : 
 Plain women were formerly so common that they were termed 
 ordinary, to signify the frequency of their occurrence ; in these 
 
 * Chambers.
 
 114 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 happier days the phrase extraordinary would be more appli 
 cable. However parsimonious, or even cruel, Nature may have 
 been in other respects, they all cling to admiration by some 
 solitary tenure that redeems them from the unqualified imputa 
 tion of uuattractiveness. One has an eye that, like Charity, 
 covers a multitude of sins ; another is a female Samson, whose 
 strength consists in her hair ; a third holds your affections by 
 her teeth ; a fourth is a Cinderella, who wins hearts by her 
 pretty little foot ; a fifth makes an irresistible appeal from her 
 face to her figure, and so on to the end of the catalogue. An 
 expressive countenance may always be claimed in the absence 
 of any definite charm ; if even this be questionable, the party 
 generally contrives to get a reputation for great cleverness ; 
 and if that too be inhumanly disputed, envy itself must allow 
 that she is " excessively amiable." 
 
 Countenance, however, is not within the reach of any of 
 these substances or combinations. It is a species of moral 
 beauty, as superior to mere charm of surface as mind is to 
 matter. It is, in fact, visible spirit, legible intellect, diffusing 
 itself over the features, and enabling minds to commune with 
 each other by some secret sympathy unconnected with the 
 senses. The heart has a silent echo in the face, which fre 
 quently carries to us a conviction diametrically opposite to the 
 audible expressions of the mouth ; and we see through the 
 eyes into the understanding, long before it can communicate 
 with us by utterance. This emanation of character is the 
 light of soul irradiating the countenance, as the sun illu 
 mines the face of nature before he rises above the earth to 
 commence his celestial career. Of this indefinable charm, all 
 women are alike susceptible : it is to them what gunpowder is 
 to warriors, it levels all distinctions, and gives to the plain and 
 the pretty, to the timid and the brave, an equal chance of 
 making conquests. 
 
 Of course, the immediate effect of a well-chosen feminine 
 toilet operates differently in different minds. In some it causes
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 115 
 
 a sense of actual pleasure ; in others, a consciousness of pas 
 sive enjoyment. In some, it is intensely felt while it is present; 
 in others, only missed when it is gone. 
 
 Beauty is the flowering of virtue. The true art of assisting 
 beauty consists in embellishing the whole person by the proper 
 ornaments of virtuous and commendable qualities. By this 
 help alone it is, that those who are the favorites of Nature 
 become animated, and are in a capacity for exerting their 
 influence ; and those who seem to have been neglected by her, 
 like models wrought in haste, are capable, in a great measure, 
 of finishing what she has left imperfect. 
 
 Chevreul remarks : " Drapery of a lustreless white, such as 
 cambric muslin, assorts well with a fresh complexion, of which 
 it relieves the rose color ; but it is unsuitable to complexions 
 which have a disagreeable tint, because white always exalts 
 all colors by raising their tone ; consequently, it is unsuitable 
 to those skins which, without having this disagreeable tint, 
 very nearly approach it. Very light white draperies, such as 
 point lace, have an entirely different aspect. Black draperies, 
 lowering the tone of the colors with which they are in juxta 
 position, whiten the skin ; but if the vermilion or rosy parts 
 are to a certain point distant from the drapery, it will follow 
 that, although lowered in tone, they appear relatively to the 
 white parts of the skin contiguous to this same drapery, redder 
 than if the contiguity to the black did not exist." 
 
 Some ingenious gallant has taxed his skill in stringing toge 
 ther some valuable cosmetics, and, as they may prove service 
 able to a lady s toilet, we introduce them : 
 
 THE ENCHANTED MIRROR Self Knowledge. 
 This curious glass will bring your faults to light, 
 And make your virtues sbine both strong and bright. 
 
 WASH TO SMOOTH WRINKLES Contentment. 
 A daily portion of this essence use, 
 Twill smooth the brow, tranquillity infuse.
 
 116 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 FIXE LIP SALVE Truth. 
 
 Use daily for your lips this precious dye, 
 They ll redden and breathe sweeter melody. 
 
 MIXTURE GIVING SWEETNESS TO THE VOICE Prayer. 
 
 At morning, noon, and night this mixture take, 
 Your tones improved will richer music make. 
 
 BEST EVE-WATER Compassion . 
 
 These drops will add great lustre to the eye ; 
 When more you need, the poor will you supply. 
 
 SOLUTION TO PREVENT ERUPTIONS Wisdom. 
 
 It calms the temper, beautifies the face, 
 Aud gives to woman dignity and grace. 
 
 MATCHLESS PAIR OF EAR-RINGS Attention and Obedience. 
 
 With these clear drops appended to the ear, 
 Attentive, lessons you will gladly hear. 
 
 INDISPENSABLE PAIR OF BRACELETS Neatness and Industry. 
 
 Clasp them on carefully each day you live, 
 To good designs they efficacy give. 
 
 AN ELASTIC GIRDLE Patience. 
 
 The more you use, the brighter it will grow. 
 Though its least merit is external show. 
 
 RING OF TRIED GOLD Principle. 
 
 Yield not this golden bracelet while you live, 
 Twill both restrain and peace of conscience give. 
 
 NECKLACE OF PUREST PEARL Resignation. 
 
 This ornament embellishes the fair, 
 And teaches all the ills of life to bear. 
 
 DIAMOND BKEAST-PIN Love. 
 
 Adorn your bosom with this precious pin, 
 It shines without and warms the heart within.
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 119 
 
 her head, and seems to take a wonderful deal of pleasure and 
 pride in seeing it drag behind her, like the train of a court 
 robe." 
 
 Fashion, the veriest despot in her decrees, arbitrates 
 through the agency of her devotees the milliner, the modiste, 
 and the tailor the style and manner of one s habiliments; and 
 so absolute is her sway in this matter, that it is difficult per 
 haps, to indicate any class that may boast exemption from her 
 jurisdiction. 
 
 Fashion rules the world, and a most tyrannical mistress she 
 is compelling people to submit to the most inconvenient 
 things imaginable, for her sake. 
 
 She pinches our feet with tight shoes or chokes us with a 
 tight handkerchief, or squeezes the breath out of our bodies by 
 tight lacing ; she makes people sit up by night when they 
 ought to be in bed, and keeps them in bed when they ought to 
 be up. She makes it vulgar to wait on one s self, and genteel 
 to live idle and useless. She makes people visit when they 
 would rather be at home ; eat when they are not hungry, and 
 drink when they are not thirsty. She invades our pleasure, 
 and interrupts our business. She compels people to dress gaily 
 whether upon their own property or that of others. She 
 ruins health and produces sickness destroys life and occasions 
 premature death. She makes foolish parents, invalids of 
 children, and servants of us all. She is a tormentor of con 
 science, despoiler of morality, an enemy to religion, and no one 
 can be her companion and enjoy either. She is a despot of 
 the highest grade, full of intrigue and cunning and yet 
 husbands, wives, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, and servants, 
 all strive to see who shall be most obsequious. Fashion obtains 
 in all countries there being ever some Beau Brummells at 
 hand to issue her mandates and illustrate her protean shapes 
 and endless metamorphoses. 
 
 " Oh, Fashion ! it were vain indeed 
 
 To try your wondrous flights to follow :
 
 120 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Onward at such a pace you speed, 
 
 Beating the Belle Jlsscmblce hollow. 
 One moment hovering in our coats 
 
 To change the cutting of the skirts : 
 Then with rude grasp you seize our throats, 
 
 Altering the collars of our shirts. 
 Now trimming up with ribbons gay, 
 
 And flowers as well, a lady s bonnet ; 
 Then with rash hand tearing away 
 
 Each bit of finery upon it. 
 Shrouding one day the arm from sight, 
 
 In sleeve so large that six might share it ; 
 And making it next month so tight, 
 
 Tis scarcely possible to bear it. 
 Upon a lady s dress again, 
 
 With arbitrary hand it pounces, 
 Making it one day meanly plain, 
 
 Then idly loading it with flounces." 
 
 There are few things that have not been done, and few things 
 that have not been worn, under the sanction of fashion. What 
 could exhibit a more fantastical appearance than an English 
 beau of the fourteenth century ? He wore long, pointed shoes, 
 fastened to his knee by gold or silver chains ; hose of one color 
 oil one leg, and another color on the other ; a coat, the 
 one half white, and the other black or blue ; a long silk hood, 
 buttoned under his chin, embroidered with grotesque figures of 
 animals, dancing men, &c. This dress was the height of the 
 mode in the reign of Edward III. In view of such facts, shall 
 we upbraid woman for her vanity and love of finery ? 
 
 Leigh Hunt informs us that fashions have a short life or 
 a long one, according as it suits the makers to startle us with 
 a variety, or save themselves observation of a defect. Hence 
 fashions set by young or handsome people arc fugitive, and such 
 are usually those that bring custom to the milliner. 
 
 The Edinburgh Review observes : "Peculiarities of dress, 
 even amounting to foppery, so common among eminent men, are 
 carried off from ridicule by ease in some, or stateliness in others.
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 121 
 
 We may smile at Chatham, scrupulously crowned in his best 
 wig, if intending to speak ; at Erskine, drawing on his bright 
 yellow gloves, before he rose to plead ; at Iloracv- Walpole, in 
 a cravat of Gibbon s carvings ; at Raleigh loading his shoes 
 with jewels so heavy that he could scarcely walk ; at Petrarch, 
 pinching his feet till he crippled them ; fit the rings which 
 covered the philosophical fingers of Aristotle ; at the bare 
 throat of Byron ; the Armenian dress of Rouseuu ; the scarlet 
 and gold coat of Yoltuire ; or the prud&ut carefulness with 
 which Caasar scratched his head, ?o as not io disuirb the locks 
 arranged over the bald place. But most of these men, we 
 apprehend, found it easy to enforce respect u;u! curb imper 
 tinence. 
 
 It would be impossible to enter upon the details of a subject 
 so copious in its historic data : nor car, we attempt to go into 
 a minute examination of the prodigal magnificence of the ward 
 robe of distinguished personages, but must confine our remarks 
 to the present fashion, the most prominent feature of which is 
 the number and depth of flounces. 
 
 A writer in the London Quarterly-, likes them when they 
 wave and flow, as in a very light material muslin, or gauze, 
 or barege when a lady has no outline and uo mass, but looks 
 like a receding angel, or a " dissolving view," but he does not 
 like them in a rich material, where they flop, or in a stiff one 
 where they bristle ; and where they break the flowing lines of 
 the petticoat, and throw light and shade where you do not 
 expect them to exist. 
 
 The amply-folding robe, cast round the harmonious form ; 
 the modest clasp and zone on the bosom ; the braided hair, or 
 the veiled head ; these were the fashions alike of the wife of a 
 Phocion and the mistress of an Alcibiades. A chastened taste 
 ruled at their toilets ; and from that hour to this, the forms 
 and modes of Greece have been those of the poet, the sculptor, 
 and the painter. 
 
 The flowing robe, the easy shape, the soft, unfettered hair, 
 
 6
 
 122 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 gave place to skirts shortened for flight or contest to the 
 hardened vest, and head buckled in gold or silver. 
 
 Thence, by a natural descent, we have the iron bodice, stiff 
 farthingale, and spiral coiffure of the middle ages. The courts 
 of Charlemagne, of Edward, Henry and Elizabeth, all exhibit 
 the figures of women as if in a state of siege. Such 
 lines of circumvallation and outwork ; such impregnable bul 
 warks of whalebone, wood, and steel ; such impassable mazes of 
 gold, silver, silk, and furbelows, met a man s view, that, before 
 he had time to guess it was a woman that he saw, she had 
 passed from his sight; and he only formed a vague wish on the 
 subject, by hearing, from an interested father or brother, that 
 the moving castle was one of the softer sex. 
 
 These preposterous fashions disappeared in England a short 
 time after the Restoration : 
 
 " What thought, what various numbers can express, 
 The inconstant equipage of woman s dress?" 
 
 Kar thus designates the epochs of a woman s life : 
 Dress is the great business of all women, and the fixed idea 
 of some. Thus, every event in their lives has a change of dress 
 for its result, and often for its cause. In this way, dresses 
 divide a woman s existence into an infinite number of eras and 
 hegiras. Such a thing happened at the time when she had 
 her purple velvet dress ; such another when she bought her 
 pink satin. 
 
 Herrick has some sweet lines about a lady s costume, which 
 claim insertion here : 
 
 " A sweet disorder in the drcssc, 
 Kindles in cloaths a wantonesse, 
 A lawne about the shoulders throwne, 
 Into a fine distraction ; 
 An erring lace, which here and there, 
 Enthral the crimson stomacher ; 
 A cuffo neglectful, and thereby 
 Ribbands to fly confusedly ;
 
 THE TOILET AXD ITS DEVOTEES. 123 
 
 A winning wave (deserving note) 
 
 In the tempestuous petticoat : 
 
 A careless shoe-string in whose tye 
 
 I see a wilde civility, 
 
 Does more bewitche me, than when art 
 
 Is too precise in every part." 
 
 It is not so much the richness of the material as the way it 
 is made up, and the manner in which it is worn, that give the 
 desired elegance. A neat fit, a graceful bearing, and a proper 
 harmony between the complexion and the colors, have more to 
 do with heightening female attractions than many are willing 
 to believe. " Many a wife looks prettier, if she did but know 
 it, in her neat morning frock of calico, than in the incongruous 
 pile of finery which she dignifies with the title of full dress. 
 Many an unmarried female first wins the heart of her future 
 husband in some simple, unpretending attire, which, if consulted 
 about, she would pronounce too cheap except for ordinary 
 wear, but which, by its accidental suitability to her figure, 
 face, and carriage, idolize her youth wonderfully. If the sex 
 would study taste in dress more, and care less for costliness, 
 they would have no reason to regret it." 
 
 Attention to a few general rules would prevent a great 
 many anomalous appearances : for instance, <% a woman should 
 never be dressed too little, nor a girl too much nor should a 
 woman of small stature attempt large patterns, nor a bad 
 walker flounces nor a short throat carry feathers, nor high 
 shoulders a shawl. From the highest to the lowest, there is 
 not a single style of beauty with which the plain straw hat is 
 not upon the best understanding. It refines the homeliest 
 and composes the wildest it gives the coquettish young lady 
 a little dash of demureness, and the demure one a slight touch 
 of coquetry it makes the blooming beauty look more fresh, 
 and the. pale one more interesting it makes the plain woman 
 look, at all events, a lady, and the lady more lady-like still. 
 Bonnets, too, are an index of character. Some wag has fur 
 nished the following " Recipe for a Bonnet," free of cost
 
 124 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 " Two scraps of foundation, some fragments of lace, 
 A shower of French rosebuds to droop o er the f;ice ; 
 Fine ribbons and feathers, with crape and illusion, 
 Then mix and t/e-range them in graceful confusion ; 
 Inveigle some fairy, out roaming for pleasure, 
 And beg the flight favor of taking her measure : 
 The length and breadth of her dear little pate, 
 And hasten a miniature frame to create ; 
 Then pour, as above, the bright mixture upon it, 
 And lo ! you possess such a love of a bonnet. " 
 
 To instance the broad national characteristics of costume, we 
 find their several peculiarities in the Chinese, the Swiss, French, 
 English, Russian, Turk and Greek ; as well as the Laplander, the 
 Tartar and Indian, which last is remarkable, like that of most 
 savage nations, for its paucity. Charles II., Gustavus of 
 Sweden, Napoleon, and other monarchs, issued their edicts for 
 the regulation of court costumes. The love of gay and gaudy 
 attire is a passion not exclusively a weakness incident to the 
 fair sex, notwithstanding an ancient writer has defined woman 
 to be " an animal that delights in finery" a fact, however, that 
 cannot be questioned if we appeal to the history of the past in 
 all conditions of society. In searching for some of the absurd 
 ities of the toilet, we meet with the following. The ladies of 
 Japan are said to gild their teeth, and those of the Indies to 
 paint them red, while in Guzurat the test of beauty is to render 
 them sable. In Greenland, the women used to color their faces 
 with blue and yellow. The Chinese must torture their feet into 
 the smallest possible dimensions a proof positive of their con 
 tracted understandings. The ancient Peruvians, and some of 
 our Indian tribes, used to flatten their heads : and among 
 other nations, the mothers, in a similar way, maltreat the noses 
 of their offspring. 
 
 Rings are of remote origin; their use is mentioned by many 
 of the classic writers, and also in the Scriptures : they were 
 worn by the ancient Gauls and Britons on the middle finger,
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 125 
 
 and by the Greeks on the fourth of the left hand, on the supposi 
 tion that this finger communicated by a small nerve with the 
 heart. The wedding-ring is supposed to be of heathen origin. 
 An old Latin work, which ascribes the invention of a ring to 
 Tubal Cain, contains the following: "The form of the ring 
 being circular, that is, round and without end, importeth thus 
 much : that their mutual love and hearty affection should 
 roundly How from one to the other as in a circle and that 
 continually and for ever." 
 
 The armlet or bracelet is also of equal antiquity ; its 
 adoption is referred to in the 24th chapter of Genesis. Both 
 were in vogue with the Sabine women, and of a very massive 
 kind : they were worn as tokens of valor by warriors, also 
 among the Romans. Ear-rings, or, as they were formerly styled, 
 pendants, are worn by most nations, and, in many instances, 
 by both sexes. In the East Indies they are unusually large, 
 and are generally of gold and jewels. The Sandwich Islanders 
 push the fashion to its utmost extent; they enlarge the incision 
 to such a degree, by the excessive weight of their ear-rings, 
 that the ear is sometimes dragged down to the waist. Of head 
 dresses, the earliest kind upon record seems to have been the 
 tiara ; the caul is also mentioned, in Holy Writ, as having 
 been in vogue in primitive times. It was usually made of net 
 work, of gold or silk, and enclosed all the hair. Some of 
 the various items of a lady s wardrobe it will not be our venture 
 to dilate upon : we may, however, just refer to the corsets or 
 stays. Tradition, insists that corsets were first invented by a 
 brutal butcher of the thirteenth century, as a punishment for 
 his wife. She was very loquacious, and, finding nothing would 
 cure her, he put a pair of stays on her, in order to take away 
 her breath, and so prevent her, as he thought, from talking. 
 This cruel punishment was inflicted by other heartless husbands, 
 till at last there was scarcely a wife in all London who was 
 not condemned to the like infliction. The punishment became 
 so universal at last that the ladies in their defence made a
 
 12G SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 fashion of it, and so it has continued to the present day. The 
 i air sex of our own day seem economic in this respect, for, 
 however prodigal they may be in other matters, they are for the 
 least possible waist. Sceiuuieriug enumerates a catalogue of 
 ninety-six diseases resulting from this stringent habit among 
 them: many of the most frightful maladies that flesh is heir to, 
 cancer, asthma, and consumption, are among them. Such 
 unnatural compression, moreover, seems to indicate a very 
 limited scope for the play of the affections, for what room is 
 there for any heart at all ? As if to atone for brevity of 
 waist, the ladies now indulge in an amplitude of skirt. 
 The merry dames of Elizabeth s court, in a wild spirit of 
 fun, adopted the fashion of hideously-deforming farthingales 
 to ridicule the enormous trunk-hose woru by gentlemen of that 
 period determined, if not successful in shaming away the 
 absurdity altogether, at least to have a preposterous con 
 trivance of their own. The idea was full of woman s wit. But, 
 alas ! they were caught in their own snare. Precious stones 
 were profusely displayed on the bodices and skirts of brocade 
 gowns, and vanity soon discovered that the stiff whalebone 
 framework under the upper skirt formed an excellent show 
 case for family jewels. The passion thus gratified, the farthin 
 gale at once became the darling of court costume, and in its 
 original shape continued in feminine favor till the reign of 
 Queen Anne, when it underwent the modification lately revived 
 for us the Hoop. In vain did the spectator lash and ridicule 
 by turns the "unnatural disguisernent ;" in vain did grossest 
 caricsttures appear and wits exhaust their invention in lampoons 
 and current epigrams ; in vain even the publication of a grave 
 pamphlet, entitled The. Enormous Abomination of the, Hoop 
 Petticoat, as the Fashion now is; the mode, for once immuta 
 ble, stands on the page of folly an enduring monument of 
 feminine persistency. 
 
 Encouraged by the prolonged and undisputed sway of the 
 farthingale, the hoop maintained an absolute supremacy through
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 127 
 
 the three succeeding 1 reigns, though ofteu undergoing changes 
 which only served to make it more and more ridiculous. The 
 most ludicrous of these. alterations were the triangular-shaped 
 hoops, which, according to the Spectator, gave a lady all the 
 appearance of being in a go-cart ; and the " pocket-hoops," 
 which looked like nothing so much as panniers on the side of a 
 donkey we mean the quadruped. Quite a funny incident is 
 related by Bulwer about the wife of an English ambassador 
 to Constantinople, in the time of James I. The lady, attended 
 by her serving-women, all attired in enormous farthingales, 
 waited npon the sultana, who received them with every show 
 of respect and hospitality. Soon, however, the woman s 
 curiosity got the better of her courtesy, and expressing her 
 great surprise at the monstrous development of their hips, she 
 asked if it were possible that such could be the shape peculiar 
 to the women of England. The English lady in reply hastened 
 to assure her that their forms in nowise differed from those of 
 the women of other countries, and carefully demonstrated to 
 her Highness the construction of their dress, which alone 
 bestowed the appearance so puzzling to her. There could 
 scarcely be a more wholesome satire upon the absurd fashion 
 than is conveyed in the simple recital of this well-authenticated 
 anecdote. 
 
 It will be readily understood that at the outset the English 
 ladies had a plausible excuse for adopting this deformity ; if 
 they were betrayed into the permanent establishment of it by 
 the very pardonable inducement of a gratified vanity, we may 
 pity their weakness but can scarcely condemn ; aud in the 
 proud reign of the hoops through a period of unsparing ridicule 
 we are quite forced to admire the unflinching tenacity with 
 which they were adhered to, much as we may deplore the 
 perverted taste which could at any time have consented to 
 their introduction. But what excuse can be offered, what 
 palliating circumstance advanced, to justify a revival of that 
 abomination by the ladies of the nineteenth century not
 
 128 8 A L A I) K It T UK S O I A I, . 
 
 betrayed into its adoption on the score of novelty, but deliber 
 ately dragging it out from the dusty past \vith all the accumu 
 lated ridicule of ages flinging to its skirts ?* 
 
 In the early ages of Christianity, gloves were a par! of 
 monastic custom, and, in later periods, formed a part of the 
 episcopal habit. The glove was employed by princes as a token 
 of investiture ; and to deprive a person of his gloves was a 
 mark of divesting him of his office. Throwing down a glove 
 constituted a challenge, and the taking it up an acceptance. 
 
 Fans have become, in many countries, so necessary an 
 appendage of the toilet with both sexes, tHat a word respecting 
 them in this place, seems demanded. The use of them was first 
 discovered in the East, where the heat suggested their utility. 
 In the Greek Church, a fan is placed in the hands of the 
 deacons, in the ceremony of their ordination, in allusion to a 
 part of their office in that church, which is to keep the (lies off 
 the priests during the celebration of the sacrament. In Japan, 
 where neither men nor women wear hats, except as a protection 
 against rain, a fan is to be seen in the hand or the girdle of 
 every inhabitant. Visitors receive dainties offered them upon 
 their fans : the beggar, imploring charity, holds out his fan 
 for the alms his prayers may obtain. In England, this seem 
 ingly indispensable article was almost unknown till the age of 
 Elizabeth. During the reign of Charles II. they became 
 pretty generally used. At the present day, they are in 
 universal requisition. Hats and bonnets are of remote 
 antiquity : it is difficult to say when they took their rise. Of 
 boots, and shoes those coverings for the extremities we do 
 not feel in the humor to discourse, since everybody knows 
 sufficient about them, by practical experience, nor are they 
 subject to so many absurd changes and metamorphoses. Of 
 perfumeries, also, little need be said ; they were always, like 
 flowers, artificial and real, favorites with the fair, as they ever 
 should be, notwithstanding we learn that scents and odors are 
 
 * Xi".v York Tribune.
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 129 
 
 out of fashion. An old poet thus quaintly chants some good 
 advice suited to all : 
 
 " Ye who would save your features florid, 
 Lithe limbs, bright eyes, unwriiikled forehead, 
 From age s devastation horrid, 
 
 Adopt this plan 
 Twill make, in climates cold or torrid, 
 
 A hale old man : 
 
 " Avoid in youth, luxurious diet ; 
 Restrain the passions lawless riot ; 
 Devoted to domestic quiet, 
 
 Be wisely gay ; 
 So shall ye, spite of age s fiat, 
 
 Resist decay. 
 
 " Seek not, in Mammon s worship, pleasure, 
 But find your richest, dearest treasure 
 In books, friends, music, polished leisure ; 
 
 The mind, not sense, 
 
 Make the sole scale by which ye measure 
 Your opulence. 
 
 This is the solace, this the science, 
 Life s purest, sweetest, best appliance, 
 That disappoints not man s reliance, 
 
 Whate er his state ; 
 But challenges, with calm defiance, 
 
 Time, fortune, fate." 
 
 We endorse the foregoing, and commend it to the ladies. 
 Will they accept it as a little advice gratis? It is invidious to 
 point out defects in beings so near perfection, and we cautiously 
 refrain from such audacity, but that notorious punster, 
 Punch affirms, " there are several things which you never can 
 by any account get a lady be she young or old to confess 
 to." Here are some of them : "That she laces tight ; that 
 her shoes are too small for her ; that she is ever tired at a 
 ball ; that she paints ; that she is as old as she looks ; that 
 
 6*
 
 130 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 she has been more than five minutes dressing ; that she has 
 kept you waiting ; that she blushed when a certain person s 
 name was mentioned ; that she ever says a thing she doesn t 
 mean ; that she is fond of scandal ; that she can t keep a 
 secret ; that she she, of all persons in the world is in love ; 
 that she doesn t want a new bonnet ; that she can do with 
 one single thing less when she is about to travel ; that she 
 hasn t the disposition of an angel, or the temper of a saint or 
 how else could she go through one-half of what she does ? that 
 she doesn t know better than every one else what is best for 
 her ; that she is a flirt or a coquette; that she is ever in the 
 wrong." 
 
 A curious correspondent in Notes and Queries observes that, 
 notwithstanding the mutations of fashion in England, some 
 old habits are still retained with great tenacity. The Thames 
 watermen rejoice in the dress of the age of Elizabeth, while the 
 royal beef-eaters (buffetiers) wear that of private soldters of the 
 time of Henry VII., the blue-coat boy, the costume of the reign 
 of Edward VI., and the London charity-school girls the plain 
 mob cap and long gloves of the time of Queen Anne. In the 
 brass badge of the cabman we see a retention of a dress of 
 Elizabethan retainers, while the shoulder-knots that once 
 decked an officer no\v adorn a footman. The attire of a sailor of 
 William the Third s era is now seen among our fishermen. The 
 university dress is as old as the age of the Smithfield martyrs. 
 The linen bands of the pulpit and the bar are abridgments of 
 the falling collar. 
 
 We find some interesting historic anecdotes illustrative of 
 our subject in an English magazine :* 
 
 " Shoes with very long points, full two feet in length, were 
 invented by Henry Plantagenet, Duke of Anjou, to conceal 
 an excrescence on one of his feet. 
 
 " Others, on the contrary, adopted fashions to set off their 
 peculiar beauties as Isabella of Bavaria, remarkable for her 
 
 * Eliza Cook s Journal.
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 131 
 
 gallantry and the fairness of her complexion, who introduced 
 the fashion of leaving the shoulders and part of the neck 
 uncovered. 
 
 " In the year 1735 the men had no hats, but a little chapeau 
 debras ; in 1745, they wore a very small hat ; yet in 1725 they 
 wore an enormous one, as may be seen in Jeffrey s Curious 
 Collection of Habits in all Nations. Old Putteuham, in his 
 very rare work, The Art of Pwsie, gives some curious inform 
 ation : Henry VIII. caused his own head, and all his cour 
 tiers, to be polled, and his beard to be cut short ; before 
 that time, it was thought more decent both for old men and 
 young to be all shaven, and weare long haire, either rounded 
 or square. Now again at this time (Elizabeth s reign) the 
 young gentlemen of the court have taken up their long haire 
 trayling on their shoulders, and think this more deacent ; for 
 what respect I would be glad to know. 
 
 "It is observed by the lively Yigneul de Marville that there 
 are flagrant follies in fashion which must be endured while they 
 reign ; and which never appear ridiculous till they are out of 
 fashion. In the reign of Henry III. of France, they could uot 
 exist without an abundant use of comfits. All the world, the 
 grave and the gay, carried in their pockets a comfit-box, as we 
 do snuff-boxes. They used them even on the most solemn 
 occasions. When the Duke of Guise was shot at Blois he was 
 found with the comfit-box in his hand. 
 
 " A shameful extravagance in dress has been a most vener 
 able folly. In the reign of Richard II. , the dress was sumptu 
 ous beyond belief. Sir John Arundel had a change of no less 
 than fifty-two new suits of cloth of gold tissue. Brantome 
 records of Elizabeth, Queen of Philip II. of Spain, that she 
 never wore a gown twice." 
 
 It cannot be denied that the votaries of fashion too often 
 starve their happiness to feed their vanity and pride. 
 
 A passion for dress is nothing new ; an old satirist thus 
 lampoons the ladies of his day :
 
 132 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 " What is the reason can you guess, 
 
 Why men are poor, and women thinner ? 
 So much do they for dinner dress. 
 
 That nothing s left to dress for dinner/ 
 
 It is not women alone that evince a proclivity in this direc 
 tion ; there are as many coxcombs in the world as coquettes. 
 The folly is more reprehensible in the former instance than the 
 latter, because it has even less show of excuse. If Nature, 
 according to Anacreon, has given to woman the empire of 
 beauty, it is right that she should be allowed all the requisite 
 accessories for its tit illustration. 
 
 Old Burton has a quaint tirade, as verbose as it is scurrilous: 
 " Why do women array themselves in such fantastical dresses 
 and quaint devices with gold, with silver, with coronets, pen 
 dants, bracelets, earrings, chains, gualcs, rings, pins, spangles, 
 embroideries, shadows, rebatoes, vcrsi-color ribands, featbers, 
 fans, masks, furs, laces, tiffanies, ruffs, falls, calls, cuffs, damasks, 
 velvets, tassels, golden-cloth, silver-tissue, precious stones, stars, 
 flowers, birds, beasts, fishes, crisped locks, wigs, painted faces, 
 bodkins, setting-sticks, cork, whalebone, sweet odors, and what 
 soever else Africa, Asia, and America can produce ; flaying 
 their faces to produce the fresher complexion of a new skin, 
 and using more time in dressing than Caxsar took in marshalling 
 his army ; but that, like cunning falconers, they wish to spread 
 false lures to catch unwary larks, and lead, by their gaudy 
 baits and meretricious charms, the minds of inexperienced youths 
 into the traps of love ?" 
 
 Leigh Hunt says : " Beauty too often sacrifices to fashion. 
 The spirit of fashion is not the beautiful, but the willful ; not 
 the graceful, but the fantastic ; not the superior in the abstract, 
 but the superior iu the worst of all concretes the vulgar. It 
 is the vulgarity that can afford to shift and vary itself, opposed 
 to the vulgarity that longs to do so, but cannot. The high 
 point of taste and elegance is to be sought for, not in the most 
 fashionable circles, but in the best bred, and such as can dis-
 
 THE TOILETTE AND ITS DEVOTEES. 133 
 
 pense with the eternal necessity of never being the same 
 thing." 
 
 The mere devotees of Fashion have been defined as a class 
 of would-be-refined people, perpetually struggling in a race 
 to escape from the fancied vulgar. Neatness in our costume 
 is needful to our self-respect ; a person thinks better 
 of himself when neatly clad, and others form a similar 
 estimate of him. It has been quaintly said that " A coat 
 is a letter of credit written with a needle upon broad 
 cloth." 
 
 Character is indexed by costume. First impressions are thus 
 I urmed, which are not easily obliterated. Taste and neatness hi 
 dress distinguish the refined from the vulgar. Persons of rude 
 feelings are usually roughly attired ; they evince none of the 
 grace and delicacy of the cultivated in intellect, morals, and 
 manners. 
 
 Vanity, like laudanum, and other poisonous medicines, is 
 beneficial in small, though injurious in large quantities. No 
 man, who is not pleased with himself, even in a personal sense, 
 can please others, for it is the belief of his own grace that 
 makes him graceful and gracious. If it be a recommendation 
 to dress our minds to the best advantage, and to render our 
 selves as agreeable as possible, why should it be an objection 
 to bestow the same pains upon personal appearance ? 
 
 Girard, the famous French painter, when very young, was 
 the bearer of a letter of introduction to Lanjuinais, then of the 
 Council of Napoleon. The young painter was shabbily attired, 
 and his reception was extremely cold ; but Lanjuinais dis 
 covered in him such striking proofs of talent, good sense, and 
 amiability, that on Girard s rising to take leave, he rose too, 
 and accompanied his visitor to the ante-chamber. The change 
 was so striking that Girard could not avoid an expression of 
 surprise. " My young friend," said Lanjuinais, anticipating 
 the inquiry, " we receive an unknown person according to his 
 dress we take leave of him according to his merit."
 
 134 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Beu Jonsou, in one of his plays, expresses the same opinion : 
 
 " Believe it, sir, 
 
 That clothes do much upon the wit, as weather 
 Does on the brain ; and thence, sir, coines your proverb, 
 The tailor makes the man." 
 
 One of our greatest historians says : " Dress is characteristic 
 of manners, and manners are the mirror of ideas." 
 
 A writer in a recent periodical also remarks : " Tailors must 
 live ; at least they think so, and we have no objection. Yet 
 they are great tyrants, and have ingenious ways of torturing 
 their victims. One way is this : they invent a fashion which 
 is strikingly peculiar, and get it into vogue by various arts 
 best known to themselves : for example, very short overcoats, 
 with long waists, which look well on men whose figure is fault 
 less. The next movement, after everybody is overcoated for 
 the winter, is to bring out a garment which differs as much as 
 possible from the one in fashion ; that is, an overcoat with 
 skirts to the heels, and waist under the armpits. They get 
 half a dozen men of high fashion, who look well in anything, to 
 parade this new invention, and make the short-coated majority 
 appear out of date. The mancEuvre succeeds ; all the dandies 
 are driven to the extravagance of ordering a superfluous coat ; 
 the tailors smile, and the dandies bleed, or their fathers do. 
 
 Old coats are essential to the ease of the body and mind ; 
 and some of the greatest achievements of men have been exe 
 cuted when the owners were in rags. Napoleon wore an old, 
 seedy coat during the whole of the Russian campaign ; and 
 Wellington wore one out at the elbow at Waterloo. Poets 
 are proverbial for a penchant for seedy garments. 
 
 A hat is the symbol and characteristic of its wearer. It 
 is a sign and token of his avocation, habits, and opinions the 
 creature of his phantasy. Minerva-like, it bursts forth in 
 full maturity from his brain. Extravagance, pride, cold-heart- 
 edness, and vulgarity, with many other of the ruling passions, 
 may be detected by its form and fashion. One may ascertain
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 135 
 
 whether a man is whimsical, grotesque, or venially flexible in 
 his taste, by this test. Much may be deduced from the style 
 in which it is worn. 
 
 Beau Brummell s wardrobe cost him 8,000 a-year. In his 
 simple elegance, he eclipsed his successor, Count D Orsay. 
 His great rival was the Prince of Wales (afterwards 
 George IV.), whose wardrobe cost 100,000 a year. 
 
 Beau Nash was another mirror of fashion and foppery. Xo 
 wonder that men of mind are found disdainful of their personal 
 attire when their sense of propriety is startled by such absurd 
 caricatures of the species being held at a premium solely for 
 their clothes. 
 
 The celebrated poet and professor, Buschin, who was very 
 careless in his dress, went out in his dressing-gown, and met in 
 the street a citizen with whom he was acquainted. The gen 
 tleman, however, passed him, without even raising his hat. 
 Divining the cause, the poet hastened home, and put on a cloak 
 of velvet and ermine, in which he again went out, and contrived 
 once more to meet the same citizen, who this time raised his 
 hat, and bowed profoundly. This made the poet still more 
 angry, when he saw that his velvet cloak claimed more respect 
 than his professorship and poetical fame. He hastened home, 
 threw his cloak on the floor, and stamped on it, saying " Art 
 thou Buschiu, or am I ?" 
 
 A curious instance of the importance of dress occurred at 
 Paris a short time since we refer to the exclusion of the 
 celebrated Chateaubriand from the Academic Franfaise, in con 
 sequence of his wearing a frock-coat. In some cases, as in 
 this, the man is of less consequence than his coat. 
 
 An American writer describes the fop as " a complete speci 
 men of an outside philosopher. He is one-third collar, one- 
 sixth patent leather, one-fourth walking stick, and the remainder 
 gloves and hair. As to remote ancestry, there is some doubt, 
 but it is now pretty well settled that he is the son of a tailor s 
 goose. He becomes ecstatic at the smell of new cloth. He is
 
 136 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 somewhat nervous, and to dream of a tailor s bill gives him the 
 nightmare. By his hair, one would judge he was dipped like 
 Achilles, but it is evident that the goddess held him by the head 
 instead of the heels. Nevertheless, such men are useful. If 
 there were no tadpoles there would be no frogs. They are not 
 entirely to blame for being so devoted to externals. Paste 
 diamonds must have a splendid setting to make them sell. 
 Only it does seem a waste of material to put five dollars worth 
 of beaver on five cents worth of brains." 
 Byron designates fops as, 
 
 " Ambiguous things, that ape 
 Goats in their visage, women in their shape." 
 
 Onr modern beaux mimic the Germans in covering their 
 (aces as much as possible, as if they felt .the necessity of some 
 disguise for the want of expression. 
 
 It is a well-known fact that ladies seldom become grey, 
 while the heads of the "lords of creation" are often early in 
 life either bald or grey sometimes both. Douglas Jerrold 
 tells a piquant joke as follows : " At a private party in London, 
 a lady who, though in the autumn of life, had not lost all 
 dreams of its spring said to Jerrold I cannot imagine 
 what makes my hair turn grey ; I sometimes fancy it must be 
 the " essence of rosemary" with which my maid is in the habit 
 of brushing it. I should rather be afraid, madam, replied 
 the dramatist, that it is the essence of Time (thyme)." 
 
 " What is life the flourishing array 
 Of the proud summer meadow which to-day 
 Wears her green flush, and is to-morrow hay." 
 
 Compared with earlier times, with some slight exceptions, 
 our modern costume certainly has the preeminence : it has 
 been said that to this cause is to be attributed the seeming 
 absence, in our day, of any transcendent instances of remarkable
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 137 
 
 beauty in the fair sex : all may be made up attractively where 
 even nature has been niggard of her endowments. Dress con 
 fers dignity and self-satisfaction, besides possessing the advan 
 tage of attractiveness. We are startled to hear a man well 
 attired use vulgar speech, but our amazement is materially 
 lessened if the party be attached to a very menial employment 
 and is enveloped in meaner clothes. Over-fastidiousness at 
 the toilet is, nevertheless, an evil equally to be deprecated : a 
 fop is as much to be despised as a slattern or shrew both are 
 obnoxious to good breeding and good taste. 
 
 The attributes of personal beauty may be reduced to four : 
 color, form, expression, and grace. Colors please by opposi 
 tion, and it is in the face that they are most diversified and 
 exposed. Thus contrasts are essential, and sallow complexions 
 should be set off by dark cravats and clothing ; whilst fairer 
 features may adopt lighter hues Beauty of form includes the 
 symmetry of the whole body, even to the turn of the eyebrow 
 or the graceful flow of the hair. Hence the perfect union and 
 harmony of all parts of the body is the source and general cause 
 of beauty ; and whilst the peculiar attraction of the female 
 form should be softness and delicacy, that of manly beauty 
 should be apparent strength and agility. Expression may be 
 considered as the effect of the passions on the muscles of the 
 countenance, and the different gestures. The finest com 
 bination is a just mixture of modesty and sensibility. 
 Indeed, all the benign affections such as love, hope, joy, and 
 pity add to beauty ; while the predominance of hatred, fear, 
 or envy, in the mind, deforms or injures the countenance. Grace 
 is the noblest part of beauty. 
 
 An anonymous writer thus apostrophizes beauty : " There 
 is something in beauty, whether it dwells in the human face? 
 in the pencilled leaves of flowers, the sparkling surface of the 
 fountain, that makes us mourn its ruin. I should not envy that 
 man his feelings who could see a leaf wither, or a flower fall, 
 Without a slight tribute of regret."
 
 188 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 " Oh, human beauty is a sight 
 To sadden rather than delight, 
 Being the prelude of a lay, 
 Whose burden is decay. 
 
 Prompted by their loyalty to woman, we find the poets have 
 ever made her charms the inspiring theme of their muse ; not 
 however, in the realm of song merely has she been celebrated ; 
 sober writers iu prose have been scarcely less enthusiastic in 
 their laudations. Jeremy Taylor styles woman " the precious 
 porcelain of human clay." iSot only is she potent iu physical 
 endowment hers is the more enduring excellence of moral 
 beauty, for her heart is the home of the virtues ; and while 
 the fascinations of her personal beauty captivate the sense, our 
 grateful love arid veneration do willing homage to her moral 
 excellence and worth. While, therefore, with one who felt the 
 mystic power of her bewildering charms, we exclaim 
 
 " Denied the smile from partial beauty won, 
 Oh, what were man a world without a sun ! 
 
 We yet instinctively yield to the still more potent influence 
 of her enduring love, her patient faith, and the nameless 
 clusters of graces which constitute her moral beauty. 
 
 It was a pertinent and forcible saying of the Emperor 
 Napoleon that " a handsome woman pleases the eye, but a good 
 woman pleases the heart. The one is a jewel, and the other a 
 treasure." 
 
 A contemporary poet* has epitomized it all in two flowing 
 stanzas : 
 
 "What s a fair or noble face, 
 
 If the mind ignoble be? 
 What though Beauty, in each grace, 
 May her own resemblance see I 
 
 * Charles Swain.
 
 THE TOILET AND ITS DEVOTEES. 139 
 
 Eyes may catch from heaven their spell, 
 
 Lips the* ruby s light recall ; 
 In the Home for Love to dwell 
 
 One good feeling s worth them all. 
 
 " Give me Virtue s rose to trace, 
 
 Honor s kindling glance and mien, 
 Howsoever plain the face, 
 
 Beauty is where these are seen ! 
 Raven ringlets o er the snow 
 
 Of the whitest neck may fall ; 
 In the Home for love we know 
 
 One good feeling s worth them all!" 
 
 Beauty being the theme with which our chapter commenced, 
 it should also conclude it. We sum up the case then, as legal 
 gentlemen have it, in the words of an American poetess : 
 
 " Thou wert a worship in the ages olden, 
 
 Thou bright-veiled image of divinity, 
 Crowned with such gleams, imperial and golden, 
 
 As Phidias gave to immortality ! 
 A type exquisite of the pure Ideal, 
 
 Forth shadowed in perfect loveliness 
 Embodied and existent in the Real, 
 
 A perfect shape to kneel before and bless."* 
 
 * Mrs. Eames.
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 
 
 " If physic be a trade, it la a trade of all others the moat exactly cut out for a rogue." 
 Lacon. 
 
 " Man is a dupable animal. Qaacks in medicine, quacks in religion, and quacks in 
 politics know this, and act upon that knowledge. There is scarcely any one who may 
 not, like a trout, be taken by tickling." Southey. 
 
 WORTHY Sir Thomas Browne has nobly sought to dignify the 
 medical profession, and it would be undignified in us to attempt 
 to impeach his excellent judgment. There are, however, sun 
 dry phases of the Faculty that present points of humor and 
 eccentricity so irresistibly amusing that to indulge a little mer 
 riment over them cannot but prove an innocent pastime. There 
 is fun enough in " love, law, and physic," if we seek it out. 
 Any one with an eye for the ludicrous will not need any specifi 
 cations in point. Much that is farcical in physic is, by the law 
 of electric affinities, transferred to the physician himself. 
 
 140
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 141 
 
 Judging by the latitudinarianism of some practitioners, and 
 the absurd nostrums of empirics and quacks, in all ages, it has 
 been gravely asked, whether doctors are really not the final 
 cause of disease. It is not, of course, to be disputed, that they 
 have been, to no inconsiderable extent, accessory both to the 
 reduction of disease and of life itself. But for the inherent 
 tendency of mankind to blind credulity and superstition, it may 
 be doubted whether the profession of medicine would ever have 
 been made the vehicle of such gross absurdities and cunning 
 impostures, as its past, and especially its earlier history reveals. 
 We are not about, however, to cast any imputation upon the 
 science of therapeutics ; our purpose being to glance at some 
 of the wild and monstrous follies which have so long disputed 
 its claims to the suffrages of society. Medical practice has 
 been defined to be, for the most part, guessing at Nature s 
 intentions and wishes, and then endeavoring to substitute man s. 
 Medication is not the most essential element of cure. 
 
 Disease is self-limited. Its tendency, in nineteen out of 
 twenty cases, is toward recovery ; and that, uninfluenced as to 
 the ultimate result of death or recovery (more or less complete) 
 by any medical interference ; unless, indeed, the latter should 
 be murderously severe. 
 
 "Nature," says a French philosophical writer, "is fighting 
 with disease ; a blind man armed with a club that is, the 
 physician comes to settle the difference. He first tries to 
 make peace ; when he cannot accomplish this, he lifts his club 
 and strikes at random. If he strikes the disease, he kills the 
 disease ; if he strikes nature, he kills the patient." And to 
 prove, from one who himself turned state s evidence on this 
 point D Alembert relates that an individual, after conducting 
 a prominent practice for thirty years, confessed, as his reason 
 for retiring from it, that he was weary of guessing! An 
 industrious nosologist has estimated that there are about 
 twenty-four hundred disorders incident to the human frame ! 
 
 Possibly our great dramatist was not aware to what nHmeri- 
 cal extent reached " the ills that flesh is heir to," or he would
 
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 scarcely have BO disparagingly suggested that we should 
 " throw physic to the dogs." Or it may be because there is, 
 according to Punch, " an evident affinity between physic and 
 the dogs a fact that shows the master mind of Shakspeare in 
 suggesting the throwing of the former to the latter ; for it is 
 clear that every medicine, like every dog, has its day. Pills 
 have had their popularity, and elixirs have had their run. 
 Lozenges have taken their turn on the wheel of fortune, and even 
 pastes have been stuck to for a time by crowds of adherents. 
 
 Napoleon ouce said to one of his physicians (Dr. Antom- 
 marchi), " Believe me, we had better leave off all these reme 
 dies life is a fortress that neither you nor I know anything 
 about. Why throw obstacles in the way of its defence ? Its 
 own means are superior to all the apparatus of your laborato 
 ries. Medicine is a collection of uncertain prescriptions, the 
 results of which, taken collectively, are more fatal than useful 
 to mankind." 
 
 The celebrated Zimmerman went from Hanover to attend 
 Frederick the Great, in his last illness. One day the king said 
 to him, "You have, I presume, sir, helped many a man into 
 another world ?" This was rather a bitter pill for the doctor ; 
 but the dose he gave the king in return was a judicious mix 
 ture of truth and flattery : "Not so many as your majesty, 
 nor with so much honor to myself." Colman says, " the medi 
 cal and military both deal in death ;" and if true, that two of 
 a trade never agree, it may be the emperor was jealous of his 
 reputation. 
 
 The death of Pope Adrian occasioned such joy at Rome, 
 that the night after his decease they adorned the. door of kin 
 chief physicians house with garlands, adding this inscription 
 " To the deliverer of his country." 
 
 Said an old dramatist 
 
 These, sir, 
 
 Are Death s masters of the ceremonies ; 
 More strangely-clad officials never yet 
 Ufchcred the way to Death s cold festival."
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 143 
 
 A contemporary observes : " The world is peopled by two 
 classes of beings, who seem to be as cognate and necessary 
 to each other as male and female. Charlatans and dupes exist 
 by a mutual dependence. There is a tacit understanding, that 
 whatever the one invents the other must believe. All bills 
 which the former draws, the latter comes forward at once and 
 honors. One is Prospero, the other his poor slave Caliban. 
 The charlatan tricks himself out in a mask, assumes a deep, 
 hollow voice, and struts upon the stage, while the dupe sits 
 gaping in the pit, and takes every word that drops from the 
 rogue s mouth for gospel-truth and genuine philosophy. It 
 would really seem as if the two parties had entered into a 
 solemn compact, that wherever the one exhibited as charlatan, 
 the other, by an absolute necessity, agrees to be present as 
 simpleton. Let the rogue open shop to dispense pills, the 
 simpleton, as soon as he learns the fact, hies to the place of 
 trade, and, pouring down his pence on the counter, takes his 
 box of specifics, and walks complacently away. The knaves 
 seem to consider the world as a rich parish a large diocese 
 of dunces, into which they have an hereditary and prescriptive 
 right to be installed. They are never at rest until they have 
 some subject on which to hold forth in public ; some novel doc 
 trine running against the grain of the old good sense ; some 
 antiquated sophism dressed in a new suit, to be put forth to 
 surprise and startle the community, and gather aroand it (as a 
 gay adventurer) an army of disciples. These men constantly 
 assume an attitude of battle." 
 
 Addison, who surrounded himself with all the accessories of 
 fortune, seems to have had a depreciating estimate of the 
 Faculty. These are his words : " If we look into the profes 
 sion of physic, we shall find a most formidable body of men ; 
 the sight of them is enough to make a man serious, for we may 
 lay it down as a maxim that when a nation abounds in physi 
 cians, it grows thin of people." This body of men he compares 
 to the British army in Caesar s time some of them slay in
 
 144 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 chariots, and some on foot. If the infantry do less execution 
 than the charioteers, it is because they cannot be carried so 
 soon into all quarters, and dispatch so much business in so short 
 a time. " Besides this body of regular troops," he adds, " there 
 are stragglers, who, without being duly enlisted and enrolled, 
 do infinite mischief to those who are so unlucky as to fall into 
 their hands." 
 
 Doctors have by some been called a class of men who live on 
 the misfortunes of their fellow-creatures ; by others, the allevi 
 ators of life s miseries. Perhaps both are true, depending upon 
 the variety. 
 
 Empirics and charlatans are the excrescences of the medical 
 profession ; they have obtained in all ages as well as in the 
 present. The " healing art" is not necessarily the occasion for 
 deception, nor the operations of witchcraft, charms, amulets, 
 astrology, necromancy, alchemy, and magic, although it has its 
 mysteries like other branches of occult scicuce. Although the 
 progress of the Materia Medica, in our times, is less impeded 
 by superstition and blind obedience to the axioms of the 
 ancients, still much remains to be achieved before our pharma 
 copoeias will be found to exhibit the certain processes or speci- 
 6cs of ascertained value, by the adoption of those substances 
 only whose effects upon the tissues of the human body are 
 thoroughly understood. Said Dr. Abercrombie, " the uncer 
 tainty of medicine which is thus a theme both for the philo 
 sopher and the humorist is deeply felt by the practical physi 
 cian in the daily exercise of his art. The uncertainty of 
 medicine resolves itself chiefly into an apparent want of that 
 uniformity of phenomena, which is so remarkable in other 
 branches of physical science. These apparent discrepancies 
 regard the characteristics and progress of disorder, and the 
 action of external agents upon the body the diagnosis of 
 disease, and its true antidote. It is an admitted fact, that 
 with all the accumulative experience of the past, no certain, 
 infallible data have yet been established for ascertaining the
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 145 
 
 characters or external indications of certain internal diseases, 
 as distinguished from those of others so many exhibiting 
 appearances in common." It has been asserted, that those 
 persons, generally, are most confident in regard to the charac 
 ter of disease whose knowledge is most limited ; and that more 
 extended observation induces doubt and indecision. If such 
 uncertainty attends the diagnosis of disease, it will not be 
 denied that at least an equal degree of incertitude must inter 
 fere in the application of remedial agents. To cite an illustra 
 tion from the authority already referred to, we may state 
 the various modes by which internal inflammation terminates 
 as resolution, suppuration, gangrene, adhesion, and effusion ; 
 but, in regard to any particular case of inflammation, how little 
 notion can be formed of what will be its progress, or how it 
 will terminate. An equal, or even a more remarkable uncer 
 tainty attends all our researches on the action of external 
 agents upon the body as causes of disease, and as remedies ; 
 and in both cases their action is fraught with the highest 
 degree of uncertainty. The great difficulty in medicine seems 
 to consist in the tracing efl ects to their true causes, and vice 
 versa. 
 
 In justice to the many illustrious benefactors of their age, 
 we must not forget that, although the profession has been dis 
 graced by empirics and quacks, a host of great names have 
 ennobled it by their virtues, their brilliant attainments and 
 services, as well as their self-denial. If Hippocrates be regarded 
 as the father of physic, science was then in its infancy, and it 
 is to the collective wisdom and experience of his successors that 
 it owes all its present glory and renown. Such men have been 
 indeed blessings to their age, and to the world at large ; and 
 the fragrant memory of their benevolence and skill, would, of 
 course, go far to redeem the profession they ennobled from the 
 rebuke of charlatanism. It is to such men as Harvey, Garth, 
 Radcliffe, Meade, Askew, Pitcairn, Baillie, Cullen, Freind, 
 Linacre, Cains, Hunter, Denman, Velpeau, Listen, Mott, and
 
 146 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Brocklesby, the friend of Johnson, with many others of refined 
 literary attainments, that it owes much of its glory. 
 
 Pope, a few days prior to his decease, records the following 
 high testimony to the urbanity and courtesy of his medical 
 friends " There is no end of my kind treatment from the 
 Faculty ; they are in general the most amiable companions, 
 and the best friends, as well as the most learned men I know." 
 And Dryden, in the postscript to his translation of Virgil, 
 speaks in a similar way of the profession. " That I have 
 recovered," says he, "in some measure the health which I had 
 lost by too much application to this work, is owing, next to 
 God s mercy, to the skill and care of Dr. Guibbons and Dr. 
 llobbs, the two ornaments of their profession, whom I can only 
 pay by this acknowledgment." 
 
 It will be remembered possibly, and it is a somewhat curious 
 fact to commence with, that we have an instance on record of 
 David in his youth, with his harp, striving by the aid of music 
 to cure the mental derangement of Saul ; a method of cure in 
 those early times which seems to have been commonly resorted 
 to. Many of the classic writers allude to the practice ; some 
 even proposing it as a certain remedy for a dislocated limb, the 
 gout, or even the bite of a viper. The medicinal properties of 
 music were manifold and marvellous. For example : a fever 
 was removed by a song ; deafness, by a trumpet ; and the pes 
 tilence chased away by the harmonious lyre ! That deaf people 
 can hear best in a great noise, is a fact alleged by some 
 moderns in favor of the ancient mode of removing deafness by 
 the trumpet. 
 
 The healing art is not without its heroes. Madame de 
 Genlis relates the story of one who, to save his native city from 
 the ravages of the plague, voluntarily surrendered himself a 
 sacrifice. The incident is as follows : " The plague raged vio 
 lently in Marseilles. Every link of affection was broken ; the 
 father turned from the child, the child from the father ; ingra 
 titude no longer excited indignation. Misery is at its height
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICI X E . 147 
 
 when it thus destroys every generous feeling, thus dissolves 
 every tie of humanity ! The city became a desert, grass grew 
 in the streets, a funeral met you at every step. The physicians 
 assembled in a body at the Hotel de Ville, to hold a consultation 
 on the fearful disease, for which no remedy had yet been dis 
 covered. After a long deliberation, they decided unanimously 
 that the malady had a peculiar and mysterious character, which 
 opening a corpse alone might develop an operation it was 
 impossible to attempt, since the operator must infallibly become 
 a victim in a few hours, beyond the power of human art to 
 save him, as the violence of the attack would preclude their 
 administering the customary remedies. .A dead pause suc 
 ceeded this fatal declaration. Suddenly a sunreon named 
 Guyon, in the prime of life, and of great celebrity in his pro 
 fession, rose, and said firmly, " Be it so : I devote myself for 
 the safety of my country. Before this numerous assembly I 
 swear, in the name of humanity and religion, that to-morrow, 
 at the break of day, I will dissect a corpse, and write down as 
 I proceed what I observe." He left the assembly instantly. 
 They admire him, lament his fate, and doubt whether he will 
 persist in his design. The intrepid and pious Guyon, animated 
 by all the sublime energy religion can inspire, acted up to his 
 words. He had never married, he was rich, and be immedi 
 ately made a will, dictated by justice and piety ; he confessed, 
 and in the middle of the night received the sacraments. A man 
 had died of the plague in his house within four-and-twenty 
 hours ; Guyon, at day-break, shut himself up in the same 
 room ; he took with him an inkstand, paper, and a little cru 
 cifix. Full of enthusiasm, never had he felt more firm or more 
 collected : kneeling before the corpse, he wrote, Mouldering 
 remains of an immortal soul, not only can I gaze on thee without 
 horror, but even with joy and gratitude. Thou wilt- open to 
 me the gates of a glorious eternity. In discovering to me the 
 secret cause of the terrible disease which destroys my native 
 city, thou wilt enable me to point out some salutary remedy .
 
 148 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 thon wilt render my sacrifice useful. Oh, God! thou wilt bless 
 the action tiiou hast thyself inspired. He began lie finished 
 the dreadful operation, and recorded in derail his surgical 
 observations. He then left the room, threw the papers into a 
 vase of vinegar, and afterwards sought the lazaretto, where he 
 died in twelve hoars a death ten thousand times nore glori 
 ous than the warrior s, who, to save his country, rushes on the 
 enemy s ranks, since he advances, with hope at least, sustained, 
 admired, and seconded, by a whole army." This was an 
 instance of heroic self-devotion perhaps unparalleled. But to 
 resume our subject : 
 
 " Dr. Willis tells us," says Burney, in his History of Music, 
 " of a lady who could hear onlyirkile. a drum was beating; inso 
 much that her husband actually hired a drummer, as a servant, 
 in order to enjoy the pleasure of her conversation." A certain 
 Frenchman, Vigneul de Marville, insists that musical sounds 
 contribute to the health of the body and the mind, assist the 
 circulation of the blood, dissipate vapors, and open the vessels, 
 so that the action of perspiration is freer. He tells a story of 
 a person of distinction, who assured him, that once, being sud 
 denly seized by violent illness, instead of a consultation of phy 
 sicians, he immediately called a band of musicians, and their 
 violins played so well in his inside, " that his bowels became 
 perfectly in tune, and in a few hours were completely becalmed." 
 Naturalists assert that animals arc sensible to the charms of 
 the divine art ; why not the biped, man ? The well-known 
 line will occur to the reader, 
 
 " Music hath charms to soothe the savage breast ;" 
 
 and the great dramatist predicates moral delinquency where 
 the effects of its dulcet influence is not acknowledged 
 
 " The man that hath no music in himself, 
 Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
 Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils." 
 
 A little plaintive, soothing melody after dinner has long
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 149 
 
 been resorted to as an auxiliary to the digestive process ; the 
 effect is to induce a temporary state of mental quiescence and 
 repose, while it confers all the advantages of sleep with none 
 of its disadvantages. It is putting the soul in tune, as Milton 
 expresses it, for any subsequent exertion. 
 
 Medical lore would not probably have been so far behind the 
 other sciences, had its professors but husbanded, in a collective 
 form, the experience of the past, as has been the case, for exam 
 ple, in the art of navigation. To begin with Galen, as a start 
 ing point, it will be sufficient to remark, that he reprobated 
 such prescriptions as were composed of any portions of the 
 human body ; and he severely condemned Xenocrates for hav 
 ing introduced them, as being worse than useless, as well as 
 being positively unjustifiable. Yet these abominable ingre 
 dients continued in use till what may be styled the reforma 
 tion of medicine in the seventeenth century. Human bones 
 were administered internally as a cure for ulcers, and the bones 
 were to be those of the part affected. A preparation called 
 aqua divina was made by cutting in pieces the body of a healthy 
 man who had died a violent death, and distilling it. 
 
 The mummery of early medicine, with all its cabalistic and 
 unintelligible mysticisms, formed a part of the age which 
 sanctioned such buffoonery. The state of medicine may be 
 considered as the criterion or barometer of the state of morals, 
 as well as science in a nation. This is evidenced by the miser 
 able condition of the science in Europe so late as the tenth 
 century, when there was scarcely a physician in Spain. 
 
 The. Jews are the first people on record who practised the 
 art of healing, which they probably learned from the Egyp 
 tians ; but the Greeks, who worshipped ^Esculapius as the god 
 of medicine, first reduced that art to a regular system. Hippo 
 crates is justly considered as the father of physic, being the 
 most ancient author whose writings on that subject are pre 
 served. The most celebrated physicians who succeeded him 
 were Asclepiades, Celsus, and Galen.
 
 150 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 After the subversion of the Roman Empire the arts and 
 sciences were totally eclipsed by the barbarons manners of the 
 Europeans, and medicine was translocated to the peaceful 
 regions of Arabia, Before the crusades, several Hebrew, 
 Arabian, and Latin professors of physic settled at Saleroom, 
 where Charles the Great founded a college for their reception 
 in the year 802. 
 
 The first distinguished quack we find mentioned in medical 
 annals, and who may therefore be styled the prototype of his 
 illustrious successors, rejoiced in the classic name of Asclepiades. 
 His eccentricity and affected contempt of everything in the way 
 of medical lore, that existed prior to his advent at Rome, gave 
 him some considerable notoriety. With all his irregularities 
 and whims, however, he certainly inculcated some good plain 
 common sense. He was the originator of the Balinea pensilis, 
 or shower-bath, and the free application of cold water, exter 
 nally and internally cheap remedies, and very effective in the 
 cure and prevention of disease ; for which discovery alone his 
 memory will live. 
 
 Paracelsus was the prince of quacks. In order to give him 
 self dignity, he assumed the names of Philippus, Anreolus, 
 Tbeophr-astes, Paracelsus, Bombastes de Uobenheim. He openly 
 discarded all the commonly-received doctrines and modes of 
 practice, and pretended to have sought for truth many years 
 everywhere and from every body, high and low, learned and 
 illiterate. He made a pompous proclamation of his travels 
 and researches, and pretended to have made great acquisitions 
 in medical science. He styled himself the king of physjc, and 
 although he professed to have discovered the elixir of life, he 
 yet died at the age of 48 years. 
 
 The commencement of the sixteenth century was rendered 
 memorable by the introduction of chemistry into medicine. 
 Paracelsus endeavored to explain the art of healing on chemi 
 cal principles at once fanciful and illusory. 
 
 A high degree of dignity has been ever claimed for the
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 151 
 
 medical profession, as mediating between life and death ; some 
 even supposing it to have been of divine origin, from the pass 
 age in Ecclesiasticus : " For the Lord hath created medicines 
 out of the earth, and he that is wise will not abhor them." 
 Some of the Floridian tribes, as we learn from Southey s Doc- 
 tor, had so high an opinion of medical virtue, that they buried 
 all their dead except their doctors ; them they burnt, reduced 
 their bones to powder, and drank the same in water a 
 delicious decoction for a delicate stomach ! Old astrologers, 
 and the like fraternity, with their mathematical marks and 
 zodaical signs, sought to invest their craft with a myste 
 rious sanctity. Boasting its origin and authority to be 
 heaven-derived, with its blazonry of factitious distinction, 
 would it be suspected, after all, the curative art is to be traced 
 even to the instinct of the brutes ? For example, the sagacious 
 dog, when indisposed, may be seen to enact himself the doctor, 
 by a resort to the fields to eat a quantity of prickly grass an 
 expedient which seldom fails of success, by acting as an emetic. 
 The same with the cat, when she finds herself " a little under 
 the weather," forthwith she sneaks off for some catnip. There 
 is a story related of an Arabian shepherd, who, having observed 
 the goats of his flock, as often as they browsed upon the coffee- 
 fruit, to skip about and exhibit signs of intoxication, tasting 
 the berry himself, tested the fact. The apes of Abyssinia, in 
 the same way, indicated to their superior masters the laxative 
 qualities of the cassia fistula. One might almost suppose, 
 therefore, a necessity for the resorting to sorcery, witchcraft, 
 stichomancy, and other mysterious agencies, in order to disguise 
 the humble sources of some elementary branches of our famed 
 medical lore. Egypt, India, and Palestine, seem to have been 
 blessed with no small supply of the erudite in these matters ; 
 such as pneumatologists, exorcists, magicians, thaumaturgists, 
 and enchanters. These magi combined, with their exercise of 
 the healing art for the body, the power of curing psychological 
 maladies, and with sad: an extensive variety of practice, these
 
 152 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 ancient scenes must have made a tolerable good thing of it. In 
 Greece and Rome, sorcery and its kindred arts were exten 
 sively resorted to ; and even till recent times such incanta 
 tions were practised in some of the most polished countries 
 of Europe. 
 
 It is not surprising that men in early ages of civilization 
 should ascribe the curative art to the potency of some unseen 
 and supernatural agency, since the diseases incident to the 
 human family were supposed to be the result of the ire of the 
 heathen deities. Magic, remarks one of the classic writers, was 
 the offspring of medicine, and after having fortified itself with 
 the help of astrology, borrowed all its splendor and authority 
 from religion. It is seldom now that we find the two profes 
 sions comlu ued the cure of the body with that of the soul ; 
 but in former ages they seem to have been intimately allied : 
 so mujh so, indeed, that the early fathers of medicine were 
 accounted worthy of deification. Amulets and charms, and 
 consecrated relics, so rife in superstitious times, served to test 
 the credulity and ignorant subjection of the popular mind. 
 Different kinds of materials were used by different people, but 
 all agreed as to their faith in their efficacy, as preventives 
 against infection or disease, as well as their potency for the 
 removal of maladies. The ignorant, however, were not alone 
 liable to become the victims of the pleasing delusion, for we 
 have testimony to prove that several of the learned were of 
 this class, and Lord Bacon among the number. 
 
 Speaking of charms, we might mention the case of a silly 
 old woman, who, according to Dr. Sigmond, applied for a 
 remedy for an affection of the breast ; a prescription was given 
 her, and a few days after, she returned to offer her grateful 
 thanks for the cure it had effected. Would it be believed, that 
 she merely tied said prescription round her neck ! It is stated 
 in Tirnb s Popular JUrrors, that the fourth book of the Iliad 
 has often cured intermittent fevers in this way ; the strength 
 of the language no less than the warmth of action that per-
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 153 
 
 vades this portion of Homer s magnificent poem being such, 
 that it was, on one occasion, metaphorically said to be sufficient 
 to cure a sick man of the ague. Some sapient individuals, not 
 comprehending poetic tropes and figures, actually converted 
 this saying into a grave reality. 
 
 Pliny speaks of one Chrysippas, reputed a famous practi 
 tioner of his day, who gained his notoriety by advocating cal 
 lages as the panacea for all complaints ! The practice of 
 physic, it must be apparent, is easily susceptible of being made 
 the occasion of cheat and imposture. Abernethy, on being 
 appealed to by a patient on behalf of her fancied indisposition, 
 had the frankness (after taking his guinea fee) to state that 
 her symptoms merely indicated the absence of health and also 
 of disease, and handing her back a shilling, advised her to get a 
 skipping-rope, and use it ! It is a singular enigma in human 
 nature that tendency of yielding one s-self to the pleasing delu 
 sions of a cheat, even though the deception may be revealed, 
 or at least fairly suspected. Dr. Parr defined the term quack, 
 as being applicable to all who, by pompous pretences, mean 
 insinuations, and indirect promises, endeavor to obtain that 
 confidence to which neither education, merit, nor experience 
 entitle them. As long, therefore, as this innate love of the 
 mysterious obtains among men, charlatanism will, to a greater 
 or less degree, exist ; and anomalous as it is, often the most 
 cultivated and enthusiastic minds are the readiest victims of 
 the cheat. Walpole says that acute and sensible people are 
 frequently the most easily deceived by quacks. A recent 
 writer, referring to the success which generally attends any 
 daring and impudent imposture, remarks : " If the cheat required 
 ingenuity to detect it, there might be some hope for mankind ; 
 but it actually lies concealed in its very obviousness." 
 
 Physicians were formerly ecclesiastics. A curious instance 
 of preferring the medical to the clerical profession, from the 
 conceit of supposed destiny, is thus related : 
 
 " Andrew Rudiger, a physician of Leipsic, took it into his
 
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 head to form an anagram on his name ; and in the words 
 Andreas Rudigcrus he found a vocation, namely, l Arnre rus 
 Dei dignns." 1 Thereupon he concluded that he was called to 
 the priesthood, and began to study theology. Soon after, he 
 became tutor to the children of the learned Thomasius. This 
 philosopher one day told him that he had much better apply to 
 medicine. Rudiger admitted his inclination to that profession, 
 but stated that the anagram of his name which he explained 
 to Thomasius had seemed to him a divine vocation to the 
 priesthood. What a simpleton you arc ! said Thomasius ; 
 why, tis the very anagram of your name that calls you to 
 medicine. Rns Dei is not that the In rial-ground ! And who 
 ploughs it better than the doctors? In effect, Rndiger turned 
 doctor, unable to resist the interpretation of his anagram."* 
 
 Jn Egypt, medicine was (Vttered by absurd regulations. Tin- 
 chief priests confined themselves to the exercise of magic rites 
 and prophecies, which they considered the higher branches of 
 the art, and left the exhibition of remedies to the pastophori, or 
 image-bearers. They were compelled to follow implicitly the 
 medical precepts of the sacred records contained in the " her- 
 metical books," a deviation from which was punishable with 
 death. From a superstitious dread of evil, aud a desire to 
 penetrate into futurity, arose the mystic divination of Greece 
 and Home, as well as that of the Druids. This divination 
 assumed the sanctity of a religious ceremony, and thus priests 
 became invested with a supposed supernatural power for the 
 cure of diseases. Thus, magic and medicine were allied with 
 astrology and religion. 
 
 Among other delusions, was that of the royal gift of healing. 
 It has been remarked as singular, that, with the vulgar errors 
 exposed by Sir Thomas Browne, in his Psendodoxia Epidemicn, 
 there should be no mention made of this ; but, from a case 
 related in the Adenochmraddogia, it would seem that this eccen 
 tric but able man had himself faith in the touch, inasmuch as
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 
 
 he recommended the child of a nonconformist, in Norfolk, who 
 had been long under his care, without receiving benefit, to be 
 taken to the king (Charles II.), then at Bruges. The father 
 having no faith, however, in the efficacy of such intervention, 
 the child was secretly conveyed to the king, and being sub 
 mitted to the royal touch, was returned, it is said, perfectly 
 healed. The father, upon hearing the result, exclaimed 
 " Farewell to all dissenters and nonconformists : if God puts 
 such virtue into the king s hand for the healing of my child, 
 I ll serve that God and that king, as long as I live, and with 
 nil thankfulness." Sir Thomas Browne was not the only emi 
 nent man susceptible of gross delusion : it is less surprising 
 that the illiterate should bo duped. 
 
 In the reign of Henry VIII. many of the medical practition 
 ers were mere horse-farriers. A distinguished patient, the 
 great Lord Burghley, secretary of state to Queen Elizabeth, was 
 addressed by one Audelay, on a certain occasion, in this wise, 
 " Be of goode comfort, and plucke up a lustie, merrie hearte, 
 and then shall you overcome all diseases : and because it 
 pleased my good Lord Admiral lately to praise my physicke, 
 I have written to you such medicines as I wrote unto him, 
 which I have in my boke of my wyffe s hand, proved upon her 
 self e and met, both ; and if I can get anything that may do you 
 any goode, you may bo well assured it shall be a joye unto me 
 to get it for you." " A goode medicine for weakness or con 
 sumption : take a pig of nine days olde, and slaye him, and 
 quarter him, and put him in a skillat, with a handfull of spear - 
 ment, and a handfull of red fennel, a handfull of liverwort, half 
 a handfull of red neap, a handfull of clarge, and nine dates, 
 cleaned, picked, and pared, and a handfull of great raisins, and 
 picke out the stonos, and a quarter of an ounce of mace, and 
 two stickes of goode cinnamon, bruised in a mortar, and distill 
 it with a soft fire, and put it in a glass, and set it in the sun 
 nine days, and drinke nine spoonfulls of it at once when you 
 list !" "A compost : item take a porpin, otherwise culled
 
 156 SALAD FOR THK SOCIAL. 
 
 an English hedge-hog, and quarter him in pieces, and put the 
 said beast in a still, with these ingredients : item a quart of 
 redde wyne, a pinte of rose-water, a quarter of a pound of 
 sugar cinnamon and two great raisins." " If there be any 
 manner of disease that you be aggrieved withal, I praye you 
 send me some knowledge thereof, and 1 doubt not but to send 
 you an approved remedie. Written in haste at Greenwiche, y" 
 9 of May, 1553, by your trewe heartie frieude, JOHX of 
 AUDELAY/ 
 
 In Percy s Reliques we are informed as to what was common 
 regarding medical lore in those days, namely, that the healing 
 art was enacted by young princes ; the practice being regarded 
 " as commendable to real manners, it being derived from the 
 earliest times, among all the Gothick and Celtic nations, for 
 women, even of the highest ranke, to exercise the arte of sur- 
 gerie." Formerly, medical practitioners obtained their licences 
 from the bishops of the diocese in which they resided. Burton, 
 in his Anatomic, of jMdancholie, notices many curious receipes 
 and " Bookes of Physicke " One work, entitled The. Queen s 
 Closet Opened, containing " divers things necessary to be 
 knowne, collected out of sundrie olcle written bookes, and 
 broughte into one order. The several things herein contayned 
 may be seen in the bookes and tables following, written in the 
 yeare of our Lorde God 1610." The work commences with 
 the "thirty-three evil dayes" of the yeare, and a general 
 calendar ; there is a curious medley of rules about the weather, 
 astronomical calculations and prognostications. The first book 
 has this : " A coppye of all such medicines wherewith y e noble 
 Countess of Oxenforde, most charitably, in her owne person, 
 did raanye greate and notable cures upon poore ueighboures." 
 The second book is entitled, " Here beginneth a true coppye 
 of such medicines wherewith Mrs. Johan Ounsteade, daughter 
 unto the worshipfule Mr. John Olliffe, Alderman of London, 
 hath cured and healed manye forlorne and deadlie diseases," 
 &c. A few extracts from the above will show the then state
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF M EDICT XE. 157 
 
 of medical science, as contrasted with that of the present day : 
 " To take away frekels take the blonde of an hare, annoynte 
 them with it, and it will doe them away." " For a man or 
 woman that hath lost theire speeche take wormwood, and 
 stampe it, and temper it with water, and strayne it, and with 
 a spoone doe of it into theire mouthes." 
 
 The laborious professional study of the matriculated physi 
 cian is unsought by the qviack he, Pallas-like, all armed from 
 the brain of Jove, rushes into his reckless practice, " encased all 
 over in native brass, from top to toe," but wholly destitute is 
 he of the requisite skill for his office. He knows not even the 
 alphabet of medicine ; yet, defiant of reason and responsibility, 
 his supposed intuitive wit and arrogance prevail. It has been 
 said, however, with truth, that the followers of quacks are the 
 cause of quackery : they are the cause of the numberless homi 
 cides that have been committed with such impunity. These 
 are skeptics of the faculty, but idolaters of the empiricism. 
 These deluded patients persevere with a pertinacity that is 
 invincible, till they discover, too late, that they have been 
 advancing, as the Irishman said, backwards. As illustrative 
 of the reckless wickedness of these pseudo-doctors, we present 
 the following instances. The Duke de Rohan, while in Swit 
 zerland, had occasion to send for a physician the most famous 
 of the day came to him, styling himself Monsieur Thibaud. 
 "Your face," said the Duke, "seems familiar to me; pray, 
 where have I seen you before ?" " At Paris, perhaps, my Lord 
 Duke," he replied, " when I had the honor to be farrier to 
 your grace s stables. I have now a great reputation as a phy 
 sician ; I treat the Swiss as I used to do your horses, and I 
 find, in general, I succeed as well. I must request your grace 
 not to make me known, for if you do, I shall be ruined P 
 There was a notorious charlatan at Paris, some years ago, 
 named Mantaccini, who, after having squandered his patri 
 mony, sought to retrieve his fortune by turning quack. He 
 started his carriage, and made tours round the country, pomp-
 
 158 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 ously professing to effect cures of all diseases with a single 
 touch, or a simple look. Failing in this bold essay, he attempted 
 another yet more daring that of reviving the dead, at will ! 
 To remove all doubt, he declared that, in fifteen days, he would 
 go to the churchyard, and restore to life its inhabitants, though 
 buried fifteen years. This declaration excited a general rumor 
 and murmur against the doctor, who, not in the least discon 
 certed, applied to the magistrate, and requested that he might 
 be put under a guard to prevent his escape, until he should 
 perform his undertaking. The proposition inspired the greatest 
 confidence, and the whole city came to consult the clever 
 empiric, and purchase his baume de vie. His consultations were 
 most numerous ; and he received large sums of money. At 
 length, the noted day approached, and the doctor s valet, 
 fearing for his shoulders, began to manifest signs of uneasiness. 
 " You know nothing of mankind," said the quack to his ser 
 vant ; " be quiet." Scarcely had he spoken the words, when 
 the following letter was presented to him from a rich citizen : 
 " Sir, the great operation you are about to perform has broken 
 my rest. I have a wife buried for some time, who was a fury, 
 and I am unhappy enough already, without her resurrection. 
 In the name of heaven, do not make the experiment. I will give 
 you fifty louis to keep your secret to yourself." Soon after, two 
 dashing beaux arrived, who urged him with the most earnest 
 entreaties not to raise their old father, formerly the greatest 
 miser in the city, as, in such an event, they would be reduced 
 to the most deplorable indigence. They offered him a fee of 
 sixty louis ; but the doctor shook his head in doubtful compli 
 ance. Scarcely had they retired, when a young widow, on the 
 eve of matrimony, threw herself at the feet of the quack, and, 
 with sobs and sighs, implored his mercy. In short, from morn 
 till night, he received letters, visits, presents, and fees, to an 
 excess which absolutely overwhelmed him. The minds of the 
 citizens were differently and violently agitated : some by fear, 
 and others by curiosity, so that tl mayor of the city waited
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 159 
 
 upon the doctor, and said : " Sir, I have not the least doubt, 
 from uiy experience of your rare talents, that you will be able 
 to accomplish the resurrection in our churchyard, the day after 
 to-morrow, according to your promise ; but I pray you to 
 observe that our city is in the utmost uproar and confusion ; 
 and to consider the dreadful revolution your experiment must 
 produce in every family : I entreat you, therefore, not to 
 attempt it, but to go away, and thus restore tranquillity to the 
 city. In justice, however, to your rare and divine talents, I 
 shall give you an attestation, in due form, under our seal, that 
 you can revive, the dead, and that it was our own fault we were 
 not eye-witnesses of your power." This certificate, our author 
 ity continues, was duly signed and delivered. The illustrious 
 Mantaccini left Lyons, for other cities, to work new miracles 
 and manoeuvres. In a short time, he returned to Paris, loaded 
 with gold, laughing at the credulity of his victims. One more 
 citation of the kind. Count Cagliostro aud his wife made their 
 debut at St. Petersburg, pretending to a power of conferring 
 perpetual youth investing old people with rejuvenescence. 
 The countess, who was not more than twenty, spoke of her 
 son, who had long served in the army. This expedient of 
 muking old people young again could not fail to affect 
 certain aged ladies, who are expert in diminishing instead of 
 adding to their years. This experiment npon popular credulity 
 did not, however, last long ; but it yielded a golden harvest 
 while it continued. 
 
 Among notable and eccentric physicians of former times, was 
 Jerome Cardan of Milan, who flourished, and physicked the 
 valetudinarians of the sixteenth century. In the Dictionnaire 
 Historique, de la Mededne, we have the following summary of 
 the qualities and accomplishments of our quondam physician : 
 " His immense knowledge and extraordinary sagacity, his free 
 dom of thought, and his style, in general, manly and spirited, 
 would place him at the head of the celebrated writers of the 
 sixteenth century, if he had not united with these qualities a
 
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 decided love of paradox and of the marvellous, an infantile 
 credulity, a superstition scarcely conceivable, an insupportable 
 vanity, and a boasting that knew no limits. His works, full 
 of puerilities, of lies, of contradictions, of absurd tales, and 
 charlatanry of every description, nevertheless offer proofs of a 
 bold, inventive genius, which seeks for new paths of science, 
 and succeeds in finding them." Leibnitz is reported to have 
 said of him, that, with all his puerilities, he was a great man. 
 
 The intellectual character of Cardan presents a problem 
 sufficiently intricate to excite the labors of a biographer ; and 
 when we add that his life, also, was full of various incidents 
 that he endured the extreme of misfortune, and rose to the 
 height of professional honor that he was battling throughout 
 his life both with men and with books, we need not wonder 
 that he became notorious. 
 
 His name has been placed in succession to that of Galen, 
 who was the great authority when he made his professional 
 appearance. His first book bore the title De Malo Medendi 
 Usa denouncing seventy-two errors in existing practice ! 
 Most of his corrections, have been re-corrected by his suc 
 cessors. Astrology by no means satisfied his thirst for divi 
 nation. He had a system of Cheiromancy, and was very 
 profound on the lines in the human hand, and a science com 
 pletely his own, which he called Metoposcopy. The following 
 extract will show that the character and fortunes of an indi 
 vidual are thus revealed by the lines in his forehead : 
 
 " Seven lines, drawn at equal distances, one above another, 
 horizontally across the whole forehead, beginning close over 
 the eyes, indicate respectively the regions of the Moon, 
 Mercury, Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Thy 
 signification of each planet is always the same, and forehead- 
 reading is thus philosophically allied to the science of palm 
 istry." 
 
 It is related of a certain quack, in some country town in 
 England, that he resorted to the following expedient, for ere-
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 161 
 
 ating a little notoriety, by way of a start. On his arrival, he 
 announced himself by sending the bell-man an official of great 
 importance in former times to disturb the quiet of the honest 
 people of the place, by proclaiming the reward of fifty guineas 
 for the recovery of his pet poodle ; of course, the physician who 
 could be so lavish with his money for such a trifling purpose, 
 could not but be a man of preeminence in his profession. 
 Millingen records the curious fact of two miracle-working doc 
 tors having taken London by storm, many years ago, who laid 
 claim to the unpronounceable and most outrageous names 
 of Tctrachymagogon and Fellino Gujfino Cardimo Cardimac 
 Frames ( \ ), which were plastered about the walls of the city, 
 exciting the amazement and curiosity of the gullible multitude. 
 Another announced himself by placards, appealing to the sym 
 pathies of the selfish, to the effect that he had studied thirty 
 years by candle-light for the good of his countrymen; which issue 
 may possibly have been deemed a debateable point. He 
 claimed to have been the seventh-son of a seventh-son and 
 to have been exclusively possessed of sundry certain cures ; 
 among others, that of hernia. 
 
 The following poetical version of a quack-doctor s profes 
 sional scope may be familiar to some readers : 
 
 " Advice given gratis, from ten until four, 
 Teeth also extracted (for nothing, if poor). 
 Prescriptions prepared with care and ability, 
 And patients attended with skill and civility. 
 Tonics, narcotics, and anti-splenetics, 
 Anti-spasmodics, sarcotics, emetics, 
 With cures for blue devils, by a clever pathologist, 
 Dispensed with great care by a young anthropologist." 
 
 Among the accidental circumstances to which some of the 
 fraternity have been indebted for their first successful debut, we 
 may refer to the following case of Dr. Case, which briefly con 
 sisted in his having the lines " Within this place lives Doctor
 
 162 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Case" written in large characters upou his door : he is said to 
 have acquired a fortune by the quaint expedient. Another 
 disciple of Esculapius tumbled into a good practice through a 
 fit of intoxication. Disappointed on his first arrival in Lon 
 don, he sought to drown his sorrows in muddy ale, at a 
 neighboring tavern ; while there, being still under the e fleet 
 of his "potations deep," he was summoned to attend a 
 certain countess. The high-sounding title of this unex 
 pected patient tended not a little to increase the excitement 
 under which he labored : he followed the liveried servant as 
 steadily as he could, and was ushered in silence into a noble 
 mansion, where her ladyship s female attendant anxiously 
 waited to conduct him most discreetly to her mistress room. 
 Her agitatiou preventing her discovering the doctor s tendency 
 to describe imaginary circles and curves in preference to a 
 direct course. He was introduced into a splendid bed-cham 
 ber, and staggering up to the aristocratical patient, he com 
 menced the mechanical process of feeling the pulse, etc. ; but 
 on proceeding to the table to write a prescription his weakness 
 betrayed him. In vain he strove to trace the salutary charac 
 ters, until, wearied in his attempts, he at length threw down 
 the pen, exclaiming, "Drunk, pon honor! 1 and he made the 
 best of his way out of the house. Two days after, he was not 
 a little surprised at receiving a letter from his illustrious 
 patient, enclosing a check for 100, and promising him the 
 patronage of her family and friends, if he would but observe 
 the strictest secrecy as to the condition in which he found her. 
 The patient and her physician were in the same predicament, 
 but by a strange obliquity in the lady, the doctor s intoxica 
 tion was of a milder type than his patient s. 
 
 The next instance we have to introduce to our friends 
 rejoiced in the not uncommon name of Graham, who, in the 
 year 1782, made a great sensation in London. He was gifted 
 with great fluency of speech, and indulged in towering hyper 
 bole and bombast, with which he sought to guJl the wonder-
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 163 
 
 loving multitude. He opened a splendid mansion in Pall-mall, 
 which he styled the "Temple of Health." The front was 
 ornamented with an enormous gilt sun, a statue of Hygeia, 
 and other attractive emblems ; the suite of rooms in the 
 interior was superbly furnished, and the walls decorated with 
 mirrors, so as to confer on the place an effect like that of 
 an enchanted palace. Here he delivered lectures on health, at 
 the extravagant price of two guineas per lecture ; yet the 
 price, together with the novelty of the subjects, drew together 
 considerable audiences of the wealthy and dissipated. He 
 entertained a female, whom he called the goddess of health ; 
 and it was her business to deliver a concluding discourse, after 
 the doctor himself had delivered his lecture. 
 
 He hired two men of extraordinary stature, provided with 
 enormous cocked-hats, and with showy liveries, whose business 
 it was to distribute bills, from house to house, through the city. 
 He became, therefore, an object of curiosity. When his two- 
 guinea auditors became exhausted, he dropped his lectures 
 successively to one guinea, half-a-guinea, five shillings, and, as 
 he said, "for the benefit of all," to half-a-crown ; and, when he 
 could no longer draw at this price, he exhibited the temple 
 itself for one shilling, to daily crowds, for several months. 
 
 Among other whimsicalities, he pretended to have discovered 
 the "elixir of life," by the taking of a quantum of which, a 
 person might live as long as he wished. His terms for this invalu 
 able invention, were, it is true, rather extravagant for common 
 people but, of course, so desirable a boon ought not to be 
 made too cheap. More than one nobleman, it is recorded, 
 actually paid him the enormous fee of one thousand pounds ster 
 ling ! Rather an expensive premium for the purchase of a 
 little common sense. This wonderful discovery, however, did 
 not last long, for the delusion soon exploded, and the quack 
 himself died, after vainly practising various other mumme 
 ries, at the age of fifty-two years neglected, and despised 
 by all. 
 For the sake of variety, we will glance at some comical
 
 164 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 patients, the victims of mental illusion, hypochondria, phan 
 tasm, and monomania. It is scarcely necessary to inquire into 
 the physical causes to which usually these maladies are to be 
 ascribed : we cite a case, from the numerous instances recorded 
 by Dr. Rush, of mental derangement, and for the accuracy of 
 which he vouches. It was of an unfortunate individual who 
 was possessed with the strange conceit that he was once a 
 calf; the name of the butcher that killed him being given, who 
 kept a stall in Philadelphia market, at which place was sold, 
 without his leave or license, his bodily right and title, previous 
 to his inhabiting his present " fleshly tabernacle." We do not 
 venture into the region of spectral illusions, or ghosts, but we 
 may mention, in passing, the case of a crazy young lady, 
 recorded by Dr. Ferriar, who fancied herself accompanied by 
 her own apparition, and who may, of course, therefore, justly 
 be said to have been, indeed, often beside herself. A Lnsi- 
 tanian physician had a patient who insisted that he was entirely 
 frozen, so that he would sit before a large Ore, even during the 
 dog-days, and yet cry of cold. A dress of rough sheep-skins, 
 saturated with aqua vita?, was made for him, and they set him 
 on fire : he then confessed that he was, for the first time, quite 
 warm rather too much so ; and thus this genial remedy 
 cured him of his frigidity altogether. 
 
 The following ludicrous story is told in the London Lancet : 
 " While residing at Rome," says the narrator, " I paid a visit 
 to the lunatic asylum there, and among the remarkable pa 
 tients was one, pointed out to me, who had been saved, with 
 much difficulty, from inflicting death upon himself by voluntary 
 starvation in bed, under an impression that he was defunct, 
 declaring that dead people never eat. It was soon obvious to 
 all that the issue must be fatal, when the humane doctor 
 bethought of the following stratagem : Half-a-dozen of the 
 attendants, dressed in white shrouds, and their faces and hands 
 covered with chalk, were marched in single file, with dead 
 silence, into a room adjoining that of the patient, where he 
 observed them, through a door purposely left open, sit down
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 165 
 
 to a hearty meal. Hallo ! said he. that was deceased, 
 presently to an attendant ; who be they ? Dead men, was 
 the reply. What! rejoined the corpse, dead men eat? 
 To he sure they do, as you see, answered the attendant. 
 If that s the case ! exclaimed the defunct, I ll join them, for 
 I m famished ; and thus instantly was the spell broken." 
 
 In Poyntz s World of Wonders, we find, among other 
 remarkable citations, the following instance recorded of an 
 accomplished somnambulist, the circumstances of which are 
 attested by a beneficed member of the Roman Catholic church : 
 " In the college where he was educated was a young seminarist 
 who habitually walked in his sleep ; and while in a state of 
 somnambulism, used to sit down to his desk and compose the 
 most eloquent sermons ; scrupulously erasing, effacing, or 
 interlining, whenever an incorrect expression had fallen from 
 his pen. Though his eyes were apparently fixed upon the 
 paper when he wrote, it was clear that they exercised no 
 optical functions ; for he wrote just as well when an opaque 
 substance was interposed between them and the sheet of the 
 paper. Sometimes an attempt was made to remove the paper, 
 in the idea that he would write upon the desk beneath. But 
 it was observed that he instantly discerned the change, and 
 sought another sheet of paper as nearly as possible resembling 
 the former one. At other times a blank sheet of paper was 
 substituted by the bystanders for the one on which he had been 
 writing ; in which case, on reading over, as it were, his compo 
 sition, he was sure to place the corrections, suggested by the 
 perusal, at precisely the same intervals they would have 
 occupied in the original sheet of manuscript. This young 
 priest, moreover, was an able musician ; and was seen to com 
 pose several pieces of music while in a state of somnambulism, 
 drawing the lines of the music-paper for the purpose with a 
 ruler, and pen and ink, and filling the spaces with his notes 
 with the utmost precision, besides a careful adaptation of the 
 words in vocal pieces. On one occasion the somnambulist
 
 166 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 dreamed that he sprang into the river to save a drowning 
 child ; and, on his bed, he was seen to imitate the movement of 
 swimming. Seizing the pillow, he appeared to snatch it from 
 the waves and lay it on the shore. The night was intensely 
 cold ; and so severely did he appear affected by the imaginary 
 chill of the river as to tremble in every limb ; and his state of 
 cold and exhaustion, when roused, was so alarming, that it 
 was judged necessary to administer wine and other restora 
 tives." 
 
 A young man had a strange imagination that he was dead, 
 and earnestly begged his friends to bury him. They consented 
 by the advice of the physician. lie was laid upon a bier, and 
 carried upon the shoulders of men to church, when some plea 
 sant fellows, up to the business, met the procession, and inquired 
 who it was ; they answered : " And a very good job it is," 
 said one of them, "for the world is well rid of a very bad and 
 vicious character, which the gallows must have had in due 
 course." The young man, now lying dead, hearing this, popped 
 his head up, and said they ought to be ashamed of themselves 
 in thus traducing his fair fame, and if he was alive, he would 
 thrash them for their insolence. But they proceeded to utter 
 the most disgraceful and reproachful language, dead flesh and 
 blood could no longer bear it ; up he jumps, they run, he after 
 them, until he fell down quite exhausted. He was put to bed; 
 the violent exertion he had gone through promoted perspiration, 
 and he got well.* 
 
 It is pertinent to our subject to refer, perhaps, to the ana 
 logy and reciprocal influence of the body and soul mind and 
 matter. That such analogy exists, and exhibits itself in a most 
 indubitable manner, exerting also a most powerful sympathy, 
 none, of course, will question ; were it otherwise a matter in 
 dispute, we might offer many able suggestions proposed by 
 various physicians and metaphysicians ; but we shall content 
 ourselves by simply quoting a passage on the subject, from 
 
 * Heywood a Hierarchy.
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 167 
 
 Ha slum, iu his work on Sound Mind. Referring to these 
 curious analogies, he says " There seems to be a considerable 
 similarity between the morbid state of the instruments of 
 voluntary motion (i. e. the body), and certain affections of the 
 mental powers. Thus, paralysis has its counterpart in the 
 defects of recollection, where the utmost endeavor to remember 
 is ineffectually exerted. Tremor may be compared with inca 
 pability of fixing the attention ; and this involuntary state of 
 the muscles, ordinarily subjected to the will, also finds a 
 parallel where the miiid loses its influence in the train of 
 thought, and becomes subject to spontaneous intrusions : as 
 may be exemplified in reveries, dreaming, and some species of 
 madness." Excessive irritation of the brain is the result of 
 inordinate mental excitement ; the physical economy thus 
 becomes deranged, and this condition of bodily disease again 
 reacts prejudicially on the mental powers. These effects are 
 more or less observable under different conditions, much 
 depending on organic structure, constitutional predisposition, 
 climate, or the peculiar circumstances by which the individual 
 may be surrounded. While the effects, however, of this recip 
 rocal influence of mind and matter are apparent, the cause 
 remains unrevealed ; and to this fact may be referred the 
 many ludicrous blunders and wild imaginings of sundry wise 
 acres, who have sought to account for a matter so occult. So 
 inscrutable and all-pervading is this union and sympathy 
 between the " fleshly tabernacle " and its noble occupant, that 
 in essaying to address any part of the fabric, the dweller is 
 inevitably found to respond to the appeal. Physiologists tell 
 us that our imagination is freest when the stomach is but 
 slightly replenished with food ; it is also more healthful in 
 spring than in winter ; in solitude than in company ; and in 
 modulated light, rather than in the full blaze of the noonday 
 sun. Climate affects the temper, because it first influences the 
 muscular system and the animal solids ; and who does not 
 know that our happiness and repose are dependent upon the
 
 168 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 well-balanced condition of the biliary system. In such cases, it 
 is the province of medicine to rectify the moral, ar> well a,s the 
 physical derangement at the same moment of time. An emi 
 nent physician at Leyden, Dr. Gaubius, who styled himself 
 Professor of the Passions," recites a curious case of a female 
 patient, upon whom he repeatedly enacted venesection, being 
 of an inflammable temperament, as avouched by her liege-lord ; 
 which operation, he says, finally induced the happiest results. 
 This notable practitioner was as an fait at metaphysics as 
 medicine ; he cured morals and manners, as well as maladies 
 of the body. Is there not, therefore, a more intimate con 
 nection between these two elements of our being than has been 
 generally admitted ? Dryden confessed his indebtedness to 
 cathartics for the propitiating of his muse ; his imaginative 
 faculty being thus dependent, as he thought, upon the elasticity 
 of his viscera. And as we before intimated, there are, unques 
 tionably, constitutional moral disorders such as temporary or 
 periodical fits of passion, or melancholy, as well as other impul 
 sive emotions ; these, for the most part, are involuntary, or 
 easily provoked, under certain exciting circumstances. A 
 moral patient, who suffers himself to become the wretched 
 victim of intemperance, is sure to need only opiates; and 
 nature, in due time, recovers from the outrage, although he 
 may not from the disgrace. And when some pitiable wight is 
 found suffering from the master-passion, love (a perfect tyrant 
 in its way, which usually overturns all a man s common sense, 
 and blinds him into the bargain), the unfortunate one is sure 
 to come " right side up," in his sober senses, too, by adminis 
 tering the process of a cold bath in the river, provided some 
 benevolent by-stander rescue him in time to cheat the fishes. 
 A certain Milanese doctor is said to have resorted to a similar 
 expedient for the cure of madness and other distempers. His 
 practice consisted in placing his patients in a great high-walled 
 enclosure, in the midst of which there was a deep well of water, 
 as cold as ire into which his unfortunate victims were plunged,
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 169 
 
 being secured to a pillar ; when they were thoroughly satu 
 rated, and their courage cooled, they were liberated. la their 
 bodily fear and shock they generally got rid of their com 
 plaints. 
 
 The effects of the imagination upon bodily health are 
 already familiar to the reader. 
 
 Bouchet, a French author of the sixteenth century, states 
 that the physicians at Montpelier, which was the great school 
 of medicine, had every year two criminals, the one living, the 
 other dead, delivered to them for dissection. He relates that 
 on one occasion they tried what effect the mere expectation of 
 death would produce upon a subject in perfect health, and in 
 order to these experiments, they told the gentleman (for such 
 was his rank), who was placed at their discretion, that, as the 
 easiest mode of taking away his life, they would employ the 
 means which Seneca had chosen for himself, and would there 
 fore open his veins in warm water. Accordingly, they covered 
 his face, pinched his feet without lancing them, and set them in 
 a footbath, and then spoke to each other as if they saw blood 
 flowing freely, and life departing with it. Then the man 
 remained motionless ; and when, after a while, they uncovered 
 his face, they found him dead. 
 
 Hope and success are finer tonics than any to be found in 
 the apothecaries shops, and even fear may boast its cures. A 
 German physician, so reads the tale, succeeded in curing an 
 epidemic convulsion, among the children of a poor-house, by the 
 fear of a red-hot poker. The fits had spread by sympathy and 
 imitation ; and this great physician, mistrusting the ordinary 
 remedies in so grave a case, heated his instrument, and threat 
 ened to burn the first who should fall into a fit. The convul 
 sions did not return. 
 
 A celebrated scholar was once attacked with fever at a coun 
 try inn. He was visited by two physicians ; and o::c> of them, 
 supposing from the poverty of his appearance that he would 
 not understand a foreign language, said to the other, in Latin,
 
 170 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 " Let s try an experiment on this poor fellow." As soon as 
 they were gone, the patient got out of bed, hurried on his 
 clothes, scampered off as fast as he could, and was cured of his 
 fever by his fright. 
 
 In England, quite recently, a girl, being attacked with 
 typhus fever, was sent to the hospital. A week afterwards, 
 her brother was seized with the same disease, and was sent to 
 the same institution. The nurses were helping him np the 
 stairs at the hospital. On the way, he was met by some per 
 sons who were descending with a coffin on their shoulders. 
 The sick man inquired whose body they were removing, when 
 one of the bearers inadvertently mentioned the girl s name. 
 It was his sister. The brother, horror-struck, sprung from his 
 conductor s, dashed down stairs, out of the hospital gate, and 
 never stopped running until he had reached home a distance 
 of twelve miles ! He flung himself on the bed immediately, fell 
 into a sound sleep, and awoke next morning, entirely cured of 
 his illness. 
 
 Solomon tells us that " a merry heart doeth good, like a 
 medicine," and experience has proved it to be a panacea for 
 many minor ills. Xot a few of the Faculty are aware of the 
 fact, and hence they have achieved marvellous cures by their 
 combination of puns, potions, and pills. A renowned physician 
 of New York, is a felicitous illustration of this. 
 
 Among the various ills which flesh is heir to, apparently 
 midway between the mental and physical is the headache a 
 malady by no means uncommon, but which we welcome none 
 the more from its frequency. Like a cold in the head, it is no 
 joke, yet some wag has had the temerity to do this, in the 
 following : 
 
 "A cold in the head ! 
 
 What need be said 
 Uglier, stupider, more ill-bred : 
 Almost any other disease 
 May be romantic, if you please ;
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 171 
 
 But who can scoff 
 
 At a very bad cough? 
 
 If you have a fever, you re laid on the shelf, 
 To be sure but then you pity yourself, 
 And your friends anxiety highly excited, 
 The curtains are drawn, and the chamber lighted, 
 Dimly, and softly, pleasanter far, 
 Than the starving sunshine that seems to jar 
 Every nerve into a separate knock, 
 
 And all at our mortal calamities mock. 
 
 ****** 
 
 Who do you suppose 
 
 Ever pitied a man for blowing his nose ? 
 Yet, what minor trial could ever be worse 
 Unless it be reading this blundering verse, 
 
 Never fit to be written, or read ; 
 
 No nor said, 
 Except by a man with a cold in his head. " 
 
 Among the long list of cases in the Materia Medica, here is a 
 new and fatal one : During the prevalence of the cholera in 
 Ireland, a soldier, hurrying into the mess-room, told his com 
 manding officer that his brother had been carried off, two days 
 ago, by a fatal malady, expressing his apprehensions that the 
 whole regiment would be exposed to a similar danger, in the 
 course of the following week. " Good heavens !" ejaculated 
 the officer, "what, then, did he die of?" "Why, your honor, 
 he died of a Tuesday." 
 
 An extraordinary case, chronicled by Punch, was that of a 
 voracious individual who bolted a door, and threw up a 
 window ! 
 
 There are other maladies that afflict us, which sometimes 
 provoke the mirth rather than the pity of our friends ; for 
 instance, how comical are the capers of a victim of St. Yitus 
 dance, or the more miserable one of intemperance, when he 
 labors to preserve the perpendicular, or to disguise his condi 
 tion. But we must not sport with human woe rather deplore 
 its presence, and seek to aid in its reduction, if not expulsion.
 
 172 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 The priest and the physician have enough to do in the mitiga 
 tion of moral and physical evil. The author of the Tin Trum 
 pet justly observes : 
 
 " There would be but little comfort for the sick, either in 
 body or in mind, were there a^y truth in the averment, that 
 philosophy, like medicine, has plenty of drugs and quack-medi 
 cines, but few remedies, and hardly any specifics. So far from 
 admitting this discouraging statement, a panacea may be pre 
 scribed which, under ordinary circumstances, will generally 
 prevent, and rarely fail to alleviate, most of our evils. The 
 following are the simple ingredients : occupation for the mind, 
 exercise for the body, temperance and virtue for the sake of 
 both. This is the magnum arcanum of health and happiness. 
 Half of our illness and misery arises from the perversion of that 
 reason which was given to us as a protection against both." 
 
 The celebrated Dumoulin remarked, on his death-bed, that 
 he should leave behind him three distinguished physicians 
 Water, Exercise, and Diet. Sir Philip Sidney defines health in 
 these words : " Great temperance, open air, easy labor, little 
 care." 
 
 Hood thus playfully prescribes : " Take precious care of your 
 precious health ; but how, as the housewife says, to make it keep ? 
 Why, then, don t smoke-dry it, or pickle it in everlasting acids, 
 like the Germans. Don t bury it in a potato-pit, like the Irish. 
 Don t preserve it in spirits, like the barbarians. Don t salt it 
 down, like the Newfoundlanders. Don t pack it in ice, like 
 Captain Rack. Don t parboil it like gooseberries. Don t pot, 
 and don t hang it. A rope is a bad cordon saniiaire. Above 
 all, don t despond about it. Let not anxiety have thee on the 
 hip. Consider your health as your greatest and best friend, 
 and think as well of it, in spite of all its foibles, as you can. 
 For instance, never dream, though you may have a clever 
 hack, of galloping consumption, or indulge in the Meltonian 
 belief that you are going the pace. Despondency, in a nice 
 case, is the overweight that you may kick the beam aud the
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 173 
 
 bucket, both at once. Besides, the best fence against care is 
 ha ! ha ! wherefore, care to have one all around you when 
 ever you can. Let your lungs crow like the chanticleer, and 
 as like the game-cock as possible. It expands the chest, enlarges 
 the heart, quickens the circulation, and, like a trumpet, makes 
 the spirit dance. " 
 
 There is a world of good advice in this passage from a letter 
 of Charles Lamb to Bernard Barton : " You are too much 
 apprehensive about your complaint. The best way, in these 
 cases, is to keep yourself as ignorant as you can as ignorant 
 as the world was before Galen of the entire inner construc 
 tion of the animal man : not to be conscious of a midriff; to 
 hold kidneys (save of sheep and swine) to be an agreeable 
 fiction ; not to know whereabout the gall grows ; to account, 
 the circulation of the blood a mere idle whim of Harvey s ; to 
 acknowledge no mechanism not visible. For, once fix the seat 
 of your disorder, and your fancies flux into it like so many bad 
 hui iiors. Those medical gentry choose each his favorite p-irt ; 
 one takes the lungs, another the liver, and refers to that what 
 ever in the animal economy is amiss." He goes on to counsel 
 his friend, "above all, to use exercise keep a good conscience ; 
 avoid taniperings with hard terms of art, viscosity, scirrho- 
 sity, and those bugbears by which simple patients are scared 
 into their graves. Believe the general sense of the mercan 
 tile world, which holds that desks are not deadly. It is the 
 mind, and not the limbs, that taints by long sitting. Think of 
 the patience of tailors ; think how long the Lord Chancellor 
 sits ; think of the brooding hen." 
 
 Thus much about the mission of medicine, and its purveyors, 
 as well as some of the disasters it proposes to remedy : now a 
 word or two abouc the subject of all this man. Physiologists 
 assert that this "paragon of animals" is physically a machine 
 a steam-engine his brain the engine, his lungs the boiler, 
 bis viscera the furnace. That he glides along the track of life, 
 often at the fearful speed of sixty or seventy pulsations in a
 
 174 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 minute, never stopping, so long as the machine is in working 
 order. He has also been compared to a steamship, a chemical 
 laboratory, a distiller} 7 , a forcing-pump, a grist-mill, a furnace, 
 an electric telegraph. 
 
 Man has the power of imitating almost every motion but 
 that of flight. To effect these he has, in maturity and health, 
 60 bones in his head, 60 in his thighs and legs, 62 in his arms 
 and hands, and 67 in the trunk. He has also 434 muscles. 
 His heart makes 64 pulsations in a minute. There are also 
 three complete circulations of the blood, in the short space of 
 an hour. 
 
 Old Francis Quarks furnishes the moral estimate : 
 
 " Why, what is man ? a quickened lump of earth, 
 A f t-ast for worms, a bubble full of breath, 
 A looking-glass for grief, a flash, a minute, 
 A painted tomb with putrefaction in it, 
 A map of death, a burden of a song, 
 A winter s dust, a worm of five feet long. 
 Begot in sin, in darkness nourished, born 
 In sorrow ; naked, shiftless, and forlorn. 
 His first voice heard, is crying for relief, 
 Alas! he comes into a world of grief; 
 His age is sinful, and his youth is vain, 
 His life s a punishment, his death s a pain. 
 His life s an hour of joy, a world of sorrow, 
 His death s a winter night that finds no morrow. 
 Man s life s an hour-glass, which being run, 
 Concludes that hour of joy, and so is done." 
 
 In closing our desultory observations on " the fallacies of the 
 faculty," we refer to the testimony of sundry members of the 
 profession, for determining the amount of good or evil of 
 which they are the occasion. 
 
 Dr. Akenside, himself a physician, has said, " Physicians, in 
 despair of making medicine a science, have agreed to convert 
 it into a trade." Sir Anthony Carlisle said, " that medicine 
 was an art founded in conjecture and improved by murder ;
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 175 
 
 that he never could discover any rational principle in a physi 
 cian s treatment of a case, and that, therefore, it was all guess 
 work." The late Professor Gregory used often to declare, in 
 his class-room, "that ninety-nine out of one hundred medical 
 facts were so many medical lies ; and that medical doctrines 
 were, for the most part, little better than stark, staring non 
 sense." 
 
 " Assuredly the uncertain and most unsatisfactory art that we 
 call medical science, is no science at all, but a jumble of incon 
 sistent opinions, of conclusions hastily and often incorrectly 
 drawn, of facts misunderstood or perverted, of comparisons 
 without analogy, of hypotheses without reason, and of theories 
 not only useless but dangerous."* The late Dr. Hooper 
 remarks in his writings, " Medicine is now defined the art of 
 preventing and treating diseases, but formerly it was called the 
 art of preserving health and curing diseases. The word cure 
 is not used at present, because we possess no remedy capable 
 of effecting an immediate cure. There is a great difference 
 between treatment and cure, as many diseases are incurable, 
 but are still proper subjects for treatment." It has often been 
 objected to the physician or practitioner that he is unable 
 satisfactorily to explain the performance of a single function, 
 the phenomena of a single disease, or the operation of a single 
 remedy. However humiliating the admission of such a truth 
 may be, it cannot wholly be denied. But fully to account for 
 the performance of one function would be nearly paramount to 
 the explanation of all, for all are governed by the same 
 general laws, and subject to the same general causes. Dr. 
 James Johnson, of London, has left upon record the following 
 extraordinary admission : " I declare as my conscientious 
 opinion, founded on long experience and reflection, that if 
 there was not a single physician, surgeon, apothecary, chemist, 
 druggist, nor drug on the face of the earth, there would be 
 less sickness and less mortality than now prevail." We are 
 
 * Dublin Medical Journal.
 
 176 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 told by the ingenious John Brown that he " wasted more than 
 twenty years in learning, teaching, and diligently scrutinizing 
 every part of medicine." The first five passed away in hearing 
 others, studying what he had heard, implicitly believing it, and 
 entering upon the possession as a rich and valuable inheritance. 
 His mode of employment the next five years was to explain 
 more clearly the several particulars, to refine and give them 
 a nicer polish. During the next equal space of time, because 
 no part of it had succeeded to his mind, he became cold upon 
 the subject, and, with many eminent men, even with the vulgar 
 themselves, began to deplore the healing art as altogether 
 uncertain and incomprehensible. Majenclie, whose opinion is 
 considered of much weight in Paris, says, " Consider for a 
 moment the state in which medicine exists in the present day. 
 Visit the different hospitals, and you will not fail to observe 
 how physicians are divided between the most opposite systems, 
 on the nature, on the seat, and even on the treatment of the 
 most simple, disease ; yet each of those systems is supported 
 by arguments more or less specious : each theory is based upon 
 facts more or less certain. * 
 
 In coming to a conclusion, therefore, we ask to what cause 
 shall we attribute the past, and even the present anomalous 
 condition of medical science, if not to the inefficiency of its 
 practitioners. Dr. John W. Francis, of New York, furnishes, 
 in part, the solution of the enigma. We quote from an 
 address, delivered by him not long since. It is a noble tri 
 bute to the profession. 
 
 " That ignorance of the laws of life, of the rules of health, 
 and of the remedial powers of medicinal substances, prevails 
 to a wonderful degree, even in exalted places, is an incontro 
 vertible position ; and hence the innumerable calamities which 
 popular delusion in the curative art entails. Most unfortunate 
 for its victims, like fraud in fiscal concerns, it has a wider 
 influence in its effects than with the immediate objects with 
 
 * Permey s Organs of Life.
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 177 
 
 whom it traffics. Its dire malignity is often extended through 
 a large circle of the unconscious and unsuspecting. 
 
 " And, on the other hand, there are instances of noble and 
 touching fortitude, of sublime patience, and of heavenly faith, 
 which every medical man that deserves the name must treasure 
 as among the richest lessons of his life. Who that has kept 
 vigils at the couch of Genius, and marked the wayward 
 flickeriugs of its sacred fire, made yet more ethereal by disease, 
 or seen beauty grow almost supernatural in the embrace of 
 pain, has not felt his mission to be holy as well as respon 
 sible ? And when a voice that has thrilled millions is hushed, 
 or a mind upon which rests the cares of a nation is prostrated, 
 who has not realized how intimately the healing art is knit into 
 the vast and complex web of human society ? Let not that 
 be thought a light office which summons us to minister, as 
 apostles of science, to the greatest exigencies of life ; to cheer 
 the soul under the acute sufferings of maternity, and alleviate 
 the decay of nature ; to watch over the glimmering dawn and 
 the fading twilight of existence ; to stand beside the mother, 
 whose sobs are hushed that the departure of her first-born may 
 be undisturbed ; and be oracles at the bedside of the reverend 
 minister of holy truth, the halo of whose piety softens, on his 
 brow, the lines of mortal agony. What a. mastery of self 1 
 What requisites, mental and corporeal, are demanded in him 
 who is the observer of scenes like these, whose sympathies are 
 awakened to services such as are befitting the mighty crisis, 
 and whose talents are efficiently enlisted for the triumphant 
 accomplishment of his devout trust ! The advent of such an 
 ambassador, when his calling is duly understood, must awaken 
 the heart to its profoundest depths, and cannot be inoperative 
 upon minds of intellectual and moral culture." 
 
 It seems to be usually less a matter of ambition with medi 
 cal students to obtain a thorough induction into the theory 
 and practice of their art, than to secure the distinction of too 
 frequently an undeserved diploma, and the coveted monogram. 
 
 8*
 
 178 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 of M. D. attached to their names, as a passport to practice 
 upon poor old women and children, who pay the forfeiture of 
 life for their inexcusable folly and cupidity. 
 
 Prof. Carnochan thus sums up the whole subject : If we 
 examine the life of the practising physician, we find it gilded 
 and shining on the surface ; but beneath the spangles, how 
 much pain and hardship ! The practising physician is one 
 of the martyrs of modern society : he drinks the cup of bitter 
 ness, and empties it to the dregs. He is under the weight of 
 an immense responsibility, and his reward is but too often 
 injustice and ingratitude. His trials begin at the very gates 
 of his career. He spends his youthful years in the exhausting 
 investigation of Anatomy ; he breathes the air of putrefac 
 tion, and is daily exposed to all the perils of contagion. View 
 him in the practice of his difficult art, which he has acquired 
 at the risk of his life ! He saves or cures his patient ; it is 
 the result of chance, or else it is alleged that it is nature, and 
 nature alone, that cures disease, and that the physician is only 
 useful for form s sake. Then, consider the mortifications he has 
 to undergo, when he sees unblushing ignorance win the success 
 which is denied to his learning and talents, and you will 
 acknowledge that the trials of the physician are not surpassed 
 in any other business of life. There is another evil the honora 
 ble physician has to contend with a hideous and devouring 
 evil, commenced by the world, sustained by the world, and 
 seemingly for evermore destined to be an infliction upon 
 humanity. This evil is Quackery, which takes advantage of 
 that deplorable instinct which actually seeks falsehood, and 
 prefers it to truth. How often do we see the shameless and 
 ignorant speculator arrest public attention, and attain fortune, 
 while neglect, obscurity, and poverty are the portion of the 
 modest practitioner, who has embraced the profession of medi 
 cine with conscientiousness, and cultivated it with dignity and 
 honor. 
 
 Great was Diana of the Ephesians, and we follow suit, for
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 179 
 
 great are we in our credulity, great iu our manifold sufferings, 
 great ia our multitudinous quacks, great in the princely for 
 tunes we bestow upon those vampires who batten upon disease 
 and sorrow. Take up the first newspaper that comes to hand ; 
 look over the advertisements entitled Medical ; is there not a 
 panacea for every disability consumption, dyspepsia, in short 
 everything that has or can make up the total of human 
 wretchedness or human infirmity ? Every ailment that has 
 baffled skill, science, and intense devotion, all whittled down 
 into a simple <; veni, vidi, vici." How wonderful that death is 
 still the great iconoclast, in spite of potions, ointments, and 
 drops ; in spite of pills that are infallible, in spite of philan 
 thropists who profess to eradicate all the "ills that flesh is 
 heir to," and others also that never existed bitters of such a 
 phoenix-like quality that the sick are turned incontinently into 
 angels of happiness, and a debilitated constitution is so sum 
 marily dealt with that it shelters itself in no time under a 
 spiritual healthfulness. 
 
 Among the excrescences that infest our Broadway, with its 
 ever varying light and shade, its disguised poverty, reckless 
 extravagance, and obtrusive vanity, may be seen two specimens 
 of the real old-fashioned quack. It is a pleasure to look upon 
 something so broad and full of character ; there can be 110 
 cheating here all above board ; note his peculiar turned-up 
 hat, unlike any other, specs fixed upon the very tip of his nasal 
 protuberance, his bright blue silk neckerchief, a cloak, embroi 
 dered with a superfluity of velvet, does the luxurious for his 
 shoulders and all this weight of material and immaterial 
 eased off into a pair of Hessians ; a foreign title too, and the 
 man is developed. The other Samaritan may be known by a 
 certain air of solemnity that accompanies him enveloped 
 in a coat and continuations of the last century, black silk 
 stockings, and silver buckles to match. Smaller fry there are 
 innumerable ; but we cannot stop to select all the prowling 
 vagabonds we meet, so leave them to pursue their Elysium in
 
 180 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 their own way ; but ought ignorance to be tampered with ? 
 must our faith ever be abused by this charlatanism ? Where 
 are the conservators of public morality ? The unfortunate thim 
 ble-rigger is hustled about without any compunction : he vio 
 lates the law ; but why is there not a law to prevent this 
 gambling in human bodies and human hearts ? must this traffic 
 be continued unchecked and unrebuked, while thousands upon 
 thousands are sacrificed? The selfish cry of "every one for 
 himself, and God for us all," is heard in all its infidelity and 
 apathy, while helplessness and imbecility are left to self- 
 management. If we are to be cut down before our allotment, 
 let it be done scientifically in other words, let the regulars do 
 it ; with them we may have a chance of existence. 
 
 Whittier observes : " It is the special vocation of the 
 doctor to grow familiar with suffering to look upon humanity 
 disrobed of its pride and glory robbed of all its fictitious 
 ornaments weak, hopeless, naked and undergoing the last 
 fearful metempsychosis, from its erect and god-like image, the 
 living temple of ail enshrined divinity, to the loathsome clod 
 and the inanimate dust. Of what ghastly secrets of moral and 
 physical disease is he the depository !" With what a sanctity, 
 therefore, is the character of the true physician invested. 
 
 It has been well said, that the theory and practice of medicine 
 is the noblest and most difficult science in the world ; and that 
 there is no other art for the practice of which the most 
 thorough education is so essential. 
 
 A word or two regarding the modern systems of Homoeo 
 pathy and Hydropathy, both which are, as might have been 
 anticipated, obnoxious to the advocates of the old system of 
 Allopathy. The Hahnemannian theory, however, now num 
 bers among its supporters many intelligent and philosophic 
 minds, although the infinitesimal reduction of its doses to the 
 millionth, billionth, and trillionth part of a grain, is more than 
 enough to stagger the belief of those who have been accustomed 
 to solutions by the pailful, and powders in any quantity.
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 181 
 
 The principle of the Homoeopathists is founded in truth and 
 reason, but its administrators require to be well skilled in its 
 doctrines, as their remedial agents include many of the most 
 subtle and powerful poisons. We are for Homoeopathy on 
 account of its modest inflictions upon the poor, afflicted patient, 
 who, in appealing to the old system, has often as much to 
 abide in his shattered corporeity from the attacks of the 
 curative process, as from the original disease. The logic of the 
 following may be questioned, but it is, of course, intended as a 
 sarcasm : 
 
 li The homoeopathic system, sir, just suits me to a tittle, 
 It clearly proves of physic you cannot take too little ; 
 If it be good in all complaints to take a dose so small, 
 It surely must be better still, to take no dose at all."* 
 
 There is only one suggestion we have to offer in this connec 
 tion it is this : ought not the homoeopathic practitioners to 
 regulate their fees in the ratio of their doses ? The cold- 
 water system is rapidly extending its popularity among us. It 
 is true, we have no establishment to compare with that of the 
 learned discoverer of hydropathy, Preisnitz ; but the system is 
 daily gaining favor with the reflective and thoughtful. Of 
 mesmerism, and its application to nervous and neuralgic 
 diseases, we shall not pause to speak. The advantages of 
 chloroform have been so fully discussed by everybody, that 
 we shall simply give the reader a taste of one of these expo 
 sitions in a kind of mock heroic verse, cut from a recent 
 English paper : 
 
 * It is very evident, however, that people do not become converts to any particular 
 system of Medicine or doctrine of Theology, from the amount of proof that may be 
 adduced in their support, but rather from the peculiar constitution and tendency of 
 their mental organization. A person who is ultra in one thing will be ultra in all; a 
 believer in Homoeopathy will be most likely a believer in Spirit Rappings and Mesmer 
 ism. Six-sevenths of the followers of Emanuel Swedenborg, it is ascertained, are 
 enthusiastic disciples of Hahnemann. A mystic in religion will be a mystic in medicine. 
 Evidence has nothing to do In the making of such convert*. Jfom&opathicus naecitv-r, 
 nonftt.Dr. C. A. LM.
 
 182 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Take but a snuff at this essence antithetical, 
 
 Dropp d upon a handkerchief, or bit of sponge, 
 And on your eyelids twill clap a seal hermetical, 
 And your senses in a trance that instant plunge. 
 
 " Then you may be pinch d and punctured, bump d and thump d, and 
 
 whack d about, 
 
 Scotch d, and scored, and lacerated, cauterized, and hacked about ; 
 And though tender as a chick a Sybarite for queasiness 
 Flay d alive, unconscious of a feeling of uneasiness. 
 
 " Celsus will witness our deft chirurgeons presently, 
 
 Manage operations as he said they should ; 
 Doing them safely, speedily, and pleasantly, 
 Just as if the body were a log of wood. 
 
 " Teeth, instead of being drawn with agonies immeasurable. 
 Now will be extracted with sensations rather pleasurable, 
 Chloroform will render quite agreeable the parting with 
 Any useless member the patient has been smarting with." 
 
 An instance of the disadvantages of this anajsthetical agent 
 is seen in the following incident, which occurred at Tauuton 
 Hospital, when, as a patient was undergoing amputation of a 
 limb, while under the influence of chloroform, the nurse let 
 fall the bottle containing the gas, which quickly spread its 
 somniferous effects over the operators, and some time elapsed 
 before they recovered from their partial insensibility. 
 
 Doctors have been ever the theme of the satirist, from the 
 days of Horace to the present. Churchill insinuates that 
 
 "Most of the evils we poor mortals know, 
 From doctors and imagination flow." 
 
 Dryden, in his lines on the poet-doctor, Garth, says : 
 
 " The apothecary train is wholly blind ; 
 From files a random recipe they take, 
 And many deaths of ona prescription make.
 
 THE MT6TERIES OF MEDICINE. 183 
 
 Garth, generous as his muse, prescribes and gives, 
 The shopman sells, and by destruction lives." 
 
 Byron adds, also, a stanza 
 
 " This is the way physicians mend or end us, 
 Secundum artem but although we sneer, 
 In health we call them to attend us, 
 Without the least propensity to jeer." 
 
 Byron bits it exactly when in health, we throw physic to 
 the dogs, and laugh at the doctor : but, when we are pros 
 trated by disease, when "sickness sits caverned in the hollow 
 eye," we are glad enough to seek his aid, and remunerate him, 
 as far as we can, for it. Some, after having passed under the 
 recuperative process, are ungrateful enough to forget the doc 
 tor s fee. Doctor Francis, of New York, tells a good case 
 of management of such an individual. We give it in his own 
 words : " We hear much of the penny-a-liner, as well as the 
 productive genius of a Moore, a Byron, and a Scott ; yet 
 never within the compass of our reading, or of common 
 report, have we known of pecuniary results following the 
 business of versification to surpass the instance we have 
 to narrate. An invalid, whose physical sufferings chal 
 lenged the best medical skill, was at length restored to his 
 wonted health ; yet, the realization of the doctor s fee, not 
 unlike the great cure, seemed to be threatened with great pro 
 traction. Some time had elapsed with this indifferent state of 
 things, when, on one bright morning, with a cheerful face, the 
 gratified patient meeting the doctor in his ordinary walks, 
 assured him he was then going to a house of worship, to return 
 thanks for his restoration. You do rightly/ said the doctor ; 
 but take along with you a line or two from me, touching your 
 case. He was handed a polite note, with this enclosure : 
 
 On a thanksgiving day, 
 Your debts you should pay ; 
 If you seek to find Heaven, 
 Why that is the way.
 
 184 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Within a half-a-dozen hours after the receipt of the lines, the 
 medical bill was responded to by the admonished patient, and 
 some two hundred dollars added to the physician s income. Nc 
 sermon would have proved more effective." We know not how 
 costly may have been the doctor s drugs, in the premises ; but 
 the doctor doubtless, never wrote a better prescription, or per 
 haps received a more easily-earned fee. 
 
 Fifty dollars a line and very short ones, at that for 
 poetry of the above stamp, excels all we find either among 
 the calamities or delectations of authorship. Surely, neither 
 the Lores of the Plants, nor the Loves of the Angels, ever 
 brought such results. This incident suggests the fact too 
 apparent to need illustration that the present incumbents of 
 the curative art, like many of their predecessors, are not among 
 the least rewarded toilers in the hive of human industry a 
 better fate than that of the two physicians-royal, who, having 
 the misfortune to lose their patient, were doomed to forfeit 
 their own lives, and to be buried along with her. 
 
 The eccentricities of Abernethy are already familiar to most 
 readers : we merely cite two anecdotes of the many that are 
 recorded of this feature of his character. 
 
 " Abernethy s mind disqualified him from adopting that 
 affected interest which distinguishes many of the well-bred 
 physicians, and he heartily despised their little arts to acquire 
 popularity. He seemed to feel as if he mentally expressed 
 himself thus : Here I am ready to give you my advice, if you 
 want it : but you must take it as you find it ; and if you don t 
 like it, egad (his favorite word), you may go about your busi 
 ness I don t want to have anything to do with you : hold 
 your tongue,, and be off. In some such mood as this, he 
 received a visit from a lady, one day, who was well acquainted 
 with his invincible repugnance to her sex s predominant dispo 
 sition, and therefore, forbore speaking but simply in reply to 
 his laconic queries. The consultation was conducted, during 
 three visits, in the following manner :
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 185 
 
 "First Day. (Lady euters and holds out her finger.) 
 Abernelky. CniT Lady. Bite. A. Dog ? i. Par 
 rot. A Go home and poultice it. 
 
 Second Day. (Finger held out again.) A. Better? 
 L. Worse. A. Go home and poultice it again. 
 
 Third Day. (Finger held out as before.) A Better ? 
 L. Well. A You re the most sensible woman I ever 
 met with. Good-by. Get out. 
 
 Another lady, having scalded her arm, called at the usual 
 hour to show it, three successive days, when similar laconic 
 conversations took place : 
 
 First Day. (Patient, exposing the arm, says :) Burnt. 
 A I see it ; and having prescribed a lotion, she departs. 
 
 Second Day. (Patient shows the arm, and says:) Bet 
 ter. A I know it. 
 
 Third Day. (Again showing the arm.) P. Well. 
 A Any fool can tell that. What d ye come again for ? 
 Get away." 
 
 There are several distinct varieties among the medical pro 
 fession ; such as the following : first, the silent doctor, who is 
 evidently a lover of creature comforts, and whose taciturn, dig 
 nified, and mysterious deportment passes current with the 
 unsuspecting for profound wisdom. He ingeniously manages to 
 secure the greatest number of patients with the fewest possible 
 words. " The silent doctor is a great favorite with the fair sex; 
 they regard him as Coleridge did his quondam acquaintance of 
 dumpling celebrity, and think that as stillest streams are oft- 
 times the deepest, so there must be something intensely fasci 
 nating in the said doctor, if it only conld be discovered. Every 
 body knows, too, how each individual woman believes herself 
 endowed by nature with peculiar faculties for discovering 
 the occult, for unravelling the mysterious ; and who more mys 
 terious than the silent doctor ? 
 
 " But, leaving him now in their safe keeping, our next illus 
 tration shall be of the sceptical doctor. Though confessedly
 
 186 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 against his interest, he is very slow to believe that anything is 
 the matter with anybody. If people are resolved to be quacked, 
 he finds a bread-pill, to be taken four times a day a safe and 
 wholesome remedy. Still, though mortally averse to old 
 women and nervous invalids, when there is real suffering, the 
 sceptical doctor feels keenly, all the more, perhaps, from his 
 efforts to conceal it. 
 
 " Of all others, perhaps, the most provoking is the talkative 
 doctor. Well versed in almost every subject, fond of literature, 
 of politics, and of science, it is difficult to keep him to the point, 
 and obtain any definite opinion or practical advice from him. 
 Quite forgetful that you are in actual pain or grievous dis- 
 comforture, a single hint or remote allusion is sufficient to draw 
 forth a learned discussion on ancient or mediaeval art, or the 
 marbles of Xineveh. He will harangue on the authenticity of 
 Rowley, or the author of Junius ; there is no subject which he 
 cannot render interesting to every one but the poor patient, 
 who needs more philosophy than he has ever dreamed of to 
 bear patiently with it all ! 
 
 " The morbid doctor is not a common specimen, but occa 
 sionally he may be met with. Take a drive with him some 
 fine morning in his chaise, and, however cheerily you start, 
 depend upon it you will come home moping. The morbid 
 doctor sees disease and death before him at every turning. 
 At each corner a death s-head stares him in the face. A gaunt, 
 grim figure, the embodiment of all diseases, sits at his elbow. 
 It would be hard to say how many functional disorders have 
 become organic through his treatment of them. If the morbid 
 doctor pronounces a complaint fatal, how can the patient 
 doubt ? 
 
 Some people find great difficulty in choosing their medical 
 attendant. How/ say they, can we ascertain the real stand 
 ing a man holds in his profession? A large practice is not a 
 criterion ; the courting, canting, quack will sometimes secure 
 it, or mere manners will be against it ; the public may be
 
 THE MYSTERIES OF MEDICINE. 187 
 
 deceived ; from his medical brethren we can learn nothing. 
 How, then, is the truth to be ascertained ? 
 
 " All we can say in reply is, that in this, as in most other 
 things, people must employ common sense an invaluable 
 quality at all times, and especially needful in choosing a doctor. 
 If you find a medical man shallow on general subjects, or 
 wanting in clearness of perception, he is not likely to be very 
 logical or very deep with regard to his profession. If you find 
 him boasting, bustling, and pompous disposed to talk of the 
 variety of his engagements, and the value in which his opinion 
 is held, are you not free to regard him as you would any other 
 man who puts forth the same pretensions ? At the same time 
 be not carping or suspicious. Medical men are altogether, 
 perhaps, the most valuable members of society ; their sphere 
 of usefulness is exceeded by none. A word spoken in season 
 is doubly valued when falling from the lips of those who have 
 ministered to our bodily necessities, and what influence may 
 they not exert in our families I In sickness and by the bed of 
 death, chords may be touched which will never cease to vibrate ; 
 love and domestic union may take the place of coldness and 
 neglect ; and the family doctor may prove of immense service 
 as the family adviser." * 
 
 Altogether, the medical profession, though arduous in the 
 extreme, is very noble ; and few, we believe, who have entered 
 upon it would be willing to change it for any other. The 
 variety of learning it requires, the constant accession of 
 new truths, the full, anxious, but interesting occupation it 
 affords to the mind, renders it absolutely absorbing and 
 exciting. 
 
 Add to this the society of all kinds into which the medical 
 man is thrown, the knowledge of human nature he acquires 
 thereby, the many beautiful traits of domestic affection and 
 woman s love which pass daily before him, the gratitude of 
 some hearts, the cordial friendship of others, the respect to be 
 
 * Chambers Journal.
 
 188 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 attained from all and it will scarcely be denied that the prac 
 tice of medicine is one of the most interesting and delightful, as 
 well as responsible, of all professions. 
 
 In fine, since there is a sacredness in the trust confided to 
 the professor of the healing art, a corresponding fidelity to its 
 claims and responsibilities is indispensably requisite ; and, con 
 sequently, he who is recklessly indifferent to these is guilty of 
 the highest style of crime, in a wanton betrayal of the faith 
 reposed iu him.
 
 s 
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 
 
 "The shadow on the dial s face, 
 
 That steals, from day to day, 
 With slow, unseen, unceasing pace, 
 
 Moments, and months, and years away; 
 This shadow, which, in ever} clime, 
 
 Since light and motion first began, 
 Hath held its course sublime." 
 
 THE topic we have chosen for the present chnpter is so 
 intangible, that the moment we essay to grasp it, it is gone. 
 Although impalpable it is yet real, for, like the circumambient 
 atmosphere, it is ever present with us, although unseen. If we 
 attempt to symbolize it, we fail fully to portray it, and yet 
 images are its only mode of illustration. It is both the longest 
 and the shortest, the swiftest and the slowest ; the most 
 divisible and the most indivisible ; the most regretted and the 
 least valued ; without which nothing can be done ; yet, that 
 which devours everything, and gives existence to everything. 
 It is the most paradoxical, yet the simplest of elements. 
 
 Strictly speaking, it is never palpable, yet it is ever present ; a 
 ISO "
 
 190 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 constant succession, an unfathomable duration ; the most 
 momentous benefactor to man, yet seldom estimated according 
 to its worth. 
 
 It is the account current with all, in which more are found 
 bankrupt than wealthy, when the balance-sheet is demanded. 
 It marks the rising and the setting sun, spreads over us the 
 black veil of night, and gilds with gladness the face of day ; 
 it rolls on the revolving seasons, chronicling the deeds ot 
 centuries ; watching over the birth of infancy, the ardent 
 aspirations of youth, toiling manhood, and the tottering steps 
 of the infirm and aged his sorrows, loves, and cares, nor 
 forsakes him so long as life shall last. It is always the friend 
 of the virtuous and the true, a tormenting foe to those who 
 abuse the gift ; to the former, it is redolent of fragrant and 
 pleasant memories, to the latter, of gloomy remorse and 
 despair. 
 
 " It rolls away, and bears along 
 A mingled mass of right and wrong : 
 The flowers of love that bloomed beside 
 The margin of life s sunny tide ; 
 The poisoned weeds of passion, torn 
 From dripping rocks, and headlong borne 
 Into that unhorizoned sea 
 Which mortals call eternity!" 
 
 And such is that mysterious myth, named Time, who 
 measures our allotted span, from the cradle to the coffin, 
 mingles our joys and griefs in the chalice of life, and then 
 terminates it with his scythe, 
 
 " A shadow only to the eye, 
 It levels all beneath the sky." 
 
 Time is but a name ; it is what is done in time that is the 
 substance. What are twenty-four centuries to the hard rock, 
 more than twenty-four hours to man, or twenty-four minutes to
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 191 
 
 the ephemera ? " Are there not periods in our own existence," 
 writes an ingenious thinker, " in which space, computed by its 
 measure of thoughts, feelings, and events, mocks the penury of 
 man s artificial scale and comprises a lifetime in a day." 
 
 I asked an aged man, a man of cares, 
 
 Wrinkled and curved, and white with hoary hairs : 
 
 " Time is the warp of life," he said. " Oh tell 
 
 The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well." 
 
 I asked the ancient, venerable dead 
 
 Sages who wrote, and warriors who bled : 
 
 From the cold grave a hollow murmur flowed 
 
 " Time sowed the seed we reap in this abode." 
 
 I asked a dying sinner, ere the tide 
 
 Of life had left his veins : " Time," he replied, 
 
 "I ve lost it ah, the treasure !" and he died. 
 
 I asked the golden sun and silver spheres, 
 
 Those bright chronometers of days and years : 
 
 They answered " Time is but a meteor s glare," 
 
 And bade me for eternity prepare. 
 
 I asked the seasons, in their annual round, 
 
 "Which beautify or desolate the ground ; 
 
 And they replied (no oracle more wise) ; 
 
 " Tis Folly s blank, and Wisdom s highest prize."* 
 
 " Time sadly overcometh all things, and is now dominant, 
 and sitteth upon a sphinx, and looketh unto Memphis and old 
 Thebes ; while his sister, Oblivion, reclineth semi-somnous on 
 a pyramid, gloriously triumphing, making puzzles of Titanian 
 erections, and turning old glories into dreams. History sinketh 
 beneath her cloud. The traveller, as he paceth amazedly 
 through those deserts, asketh of her, Who builded them ? and 
 she mumbleth something, but what it is he knoweth not."f 
 
 Locke is of opinion that a man, in great misery, may so far 
 lose his measure, as to think a minute an hour ; or, in joy, 
 make an hour a minute. 
 
 Shakspeare expands the same idea, where he says " Time 
 
 * Locke. t Heeren.
 
 192 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 travels in divers paces, with divers persons ; I ll tell you who 
 Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops 
 withal, and who he stands still withal. He trots hard with a 
 young maid, between the contract of her marriage, and the 
 day it is solemnized ; if the interim be but a sennight, 
 Time s pace is so hard, that it seems the length of seven years. 
 He ambles with a priest that lacks Latin, and a rich man that 
 hath not the gout for the one sleeps easily, because he cannot 
 study ; and the other lives merrily, because he feels no pain ; 
 the one lacking the burden of lean and wasteful learning the 
 other knowing no burden of heavy, tedious penury; then Time 
 arables withal. He gallops with a thief to the gallows for, 
 though he go softly as foot can fall, he thinks himself too soon 
 there. He stays still with lawyers in the vacation for they 
 sleep between term and term, and then they perceive not how 
 Time moves." 
 
 Time is portrayed with wings to indicate his rapid flight, 
 and if he strew our pathway with life s spring flowers, he also 
 brings, too swiftly, its wintry frosts and desolation. He is 
 also represented with a scythe, to notify that he mows down 
 all alike the young, the refined and the vulgar, the good and 
 the bad. 
 
 " Even such is Time that takes on trust, 
 Our youth, our joys, our all we have, 
 
 And pays us but with age and dust ; 
 "Who, in the dark and silent grave, 
 
 When we have wandered all our ways, 
 
 Shuts up the story of our days/ * 
 
 The earliest expedient for reckoning time seems to have been 
 the sun-dial. Allusion to its use is to be found in Holy Writ.f 
 It was called by the ancients sciathericum, from being marked 
 by shadow. This instrument was in vogue among the Romans ; 
 we have an account of one being placed in the court of the 
 Temple of Quirinus. 
 
 * Sir Walter Raleigh. t Isaiah, chip, sxxviii. 8.
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 193 
 
 Several of the Grecian astronomers and mathematicians con 
 structed dials. Thales is said to have made one ; as also 
 Aristarchus and Anaxirnenes, of Miletus. Herodotus informs 
 us that the Greeks borrowed the invention from the Baby 
 lonians. The fir^t snn-dial used at Rome was in use about 
 three hundred years before Christ. Before the use of these 
 instruments in the " Eternal City," there was no division of 
 the day into hours ; nor does that word occur in the Twelve 
 Tables. They only mention sun-rising and sun-setting, lefore 
 and after mid-day. According to Pliny, mid-day was not 
 added till some years later, an accensus of the consuls being 
 appointed to call out that time when he saw the- sun from 
 the Senate-house, between the Rostra and the place called 
 Graecostasis, where the ambassadors from Greece and other 
 foreign countries used to stand. 
 
 The khpsydra, or water-clock,* was introduced by Scipio 
 Xarsica at Rome, 157 B.C. It served its purpose in all wea 
 thers, while the dial, of course, depended upon the sun. Sun 
 dials are occasionally still to be seen in Europe. 
 
 " I count only the hours that are serene," is the motto of 
 an old sun-dial near Yenice. A capital conceit to dispel dul- 
 ness and discontent. Life is sure to be much brighter if we 
 look at the sunny side of it. 
 
 There is a dial in the Temple, London, upon which is 
 inscribed the admonitory line (a good hint for loiterers), 
 " Begone about your business." 
 
 The Chinese have been accustomed, as early as the ninth 
 century, to have watchmen posted on towers, who announced 
 the hours of the day and night by striking upon a suspended 
 board. A similar custom still remains among the Russians. 
 
 * In the year 807, the King of Persia sent as a present to Charlemagne a water-clock, 
 furnished with some ingenious mechanism. A slight description of it is to be found in 
 Amxile* Frimcorum, ascribed to Kginliard. The author says: "Likewise a time 
 piece wonderfully constructed of brass with mechanical art, in which the course of the 
 twelve hours was turned towards a clepsydra, with as many brass balls, which fall 
 down at the completion of the hour, and by their fall sounded a bell under them."
 
 194 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Alfred the Great measured his time by the constant burning 
 of wax torches or candles, notched for the hours. In some 
 parts of the East, people measure time by the length of their 
 shadow. Consequently, if you ask a man what time of day 
 it is, he will stand erect in the sun and measure his shadow. 
 We find allusion to this in the seventh chapter of Job. " As a 
 servant earnestly desireth the shadow." Hour-glasses were 
 first invented at Alexandria, 150 years before the Christian era. 
 
 The monks of old, finding the time hang heavy on their 
 hands, devised some curious expedients to get rid of it. The 
 Abbot of Hirsham (temp, llth century) constructed a time- 
 measurer somewhat similar to our clocks ; the machine being 
 different from the sun-dial and the water-clock. It not only 
 pointed out the hours, and exhibited the motion of the earth 
 and other planets, but emitted also a sound, to give an alarm, 
 for the purpose of awakening the sacristan to matins and ves^ 
 pers. Clocks, moved by wheels and weights, also began to 
 be used in the monasteries in Europe about the eleventh 
 century. 
 
 In 1232 a curious clock was sent by the Sultan of Egypt to 
 the Emperor Frederic II. " In the same year," writes an old 
 author, " the Saladin of Egypt sent by his ambassadors, as a 
 gift, a valuable machine, of wonderful construction, worth 
 more than five thousand ducats. It appeared to resemble 
 internally a celestial globe, in which figures of the sun, moon, 
 and planets, formed with great skill, moved, being impelled by 
 weights and wheels, so that, performing their course in cer 
 tain and fixed intervals, they pointed out the hour, night and 
 day, with infallible certainty ; also the twelve signs of the 
 zodiac, with certain appropriate characters, moved with the 
 firmament, contained within themselves the course of the 
 planets. 
 
 We learn that, in 1288, an artist furnished the famous clock- 
 house near Westminster Hall with a clock, to be heard by the 
 courts of law. This clock was considered, during the reign of
 
 THE CYCLE OP THE SEASONS. 195 
 
 Henry VI., to be of such consequence, that it was consigned 
 to the keeping of William Warby, dean of St. Stephen s, toge 
 ther with the pay of sixpence per diem, to be received at the 
 Exchequer. Four years later, in 1292, a clock was placed in 
 the cathedral tt Canterbury ; it was purchased at a price equi 
 valent to four hundred pounds. In 1523, the clock of St. 
 Mary s, Oxford, was furnished out of fines imposed on the stu 
 dents of the university. 
 
 One of the oldest clocks in England is in the Palace of 
 Hampton Court. It still works well, and wears well, like 
 father Time, who never seems to get older. 
 
 A few years back a clock was invented for dividing the 
 year decimally. This curious time-measurer made a hundred 
 thousand beats in the day ; and the hands on the dial were 
 so contrived as to divide the whole day of twenty-four hours 
 into ten, a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand, and one hun 
 dred thousand parts. 
 
 One of the best clocks now in London is that of the Royal 
 Exchange. It was made by Mr. Dent under the immediate 
 direction of Professor Airy ; and the first stroke of each hour 
 is said to be true to a second of time. That placed in the 
 Clock Tower of the New Houses of Parliament is an eight-day 
 one, and strikes the hour on a bell weighing nearly ten tons ; 
 it chimes the quarter upon eight bells, and shows the time 
 upon four dials, about thirty feet in diameter. The length of 
 the minute-hand of the clock of St Paul s Cathedral is 8 feet, 
 and its weight 151bs. ; the length of the hour-hand is 5 feet 
 5 inches, and its weight 441bs. The diameter of the dial is 
 18 feet. The diameter of the bell is ten feet, and it3 weight 
 four tons and a quarter. It is inscribed, " Richard Phelps 
 made me, 1716," a;id is never used except, for the striking of 
 the hour, and for tolling at the deaths and funerals of any of 
 the royal family, the Bishops of London, the Deans of St. 
 Paul s, and the Lord Mayor, should he die during mayoralty. 
 
 " The chime$ which are attached to many of our public clocks
 
 196 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 seem to give a spur to the lazy, creeping hours, and relieve the 
 lassitude of country places. At noon their desultory, trivial 
 song, is diffused through the hamlet with the odor of rashers 
 of bacon ; at the close of the day they send the toil-worn 
 sleepers to their beds." We have a peal of bells at Trinity 
 Church, New York, but we fear they have lost their tongue, 
 since they maintain a persistent silence. 
 
 Watches were first introduced at the close of the fifteenth 
 century. Watchmaking has been carried to great perfection 
 by the Swiss, French, and English. Some minute watches 
 have been constructed of less than half an inch diameter. 
 
 A watch has been facetiously designated as the image of 
 modesty, since it always holds its hands before its face, and 
 however good its works may be, it is always running itself 
 down. 
 
 The astronomical clock at Strasburg is composed of three 
 parts, respectively dedicated to the measure of time, to the 
 calendar, and to astronomical movements. The first thing to 
 be created was a central moving power, communicating its 
 motion to the whole of its mechanism. The motive power, which 
 is itself a very perfect and exact time-piece, indicates on an 
 outer face the hours and their subdivisions, as well as the days 
 of the week : it strikes the hours and the quarters, and puts in 
 motion divers allegorical figures. One of the most curious of 
 these is the Genius placed on the first balustrade, and who 
 turns, each hour, the sand-glass which he holds in his hand. 
 The cock crows, and a procession of the apostles takes place 
 every day at noon. In the calendar are noted the months, 
 days, and dominical letters, as well as the calendar properly 
 so called, showing all the saints days in the year. The plate 
 on which these signs are marked revolves once in 365 days for 
 the common, and 366 for the bissextile, year ; marking, at the 
 same time, the irregularity which takes place three consecutive 
 times out of four in the secular years. The moveable feasts, 
 which seem as though they followed no fixed rule, are, never-
 
 THE OTCLE OF THE SEASONS. 197 
 
 theless, obtained here by a mechanism of marvellous ingenuity, 
 in which all the elements of the ecclesiastical computation 
 the milesimal, the ^olar circle, the golden number, the domini 
 cal letter, and the epacts combine and produce, for an unli 
 mited period, the result sought. It is at midnight, the 31st 
 of December, that the other moveable feasts and fasts range 
 themselves on the calendar iu the order and place of their suc 
 cession for the whole of the following year. The third division 
 solves the problems of astronomy. It exhibits an orrery, con 
 structed on the Copernican System, which presents the mean 
 revolutions of each of the planets visible to the naked eye. 
 The earth, in her movement, carries with her her satellite the 
 moon, which accomplishes her revolution in the space of a lunar 
 month. Besides this, the different phases of the moon are 
 shown on a separate globe. One sphere represents the appa 
 rent movement of the heavens, making its revolution in the 
 course of the siderial day. It is subjected to that almost 
 imperceptible influence known as the precession of the equi 
 noxes. Separate mechanisms produce the equations of the sun, 
 its anomaly and right ascension. Others, the principal equa 
 tions of the moon ; as its erection, anomaly, variation, annual 
 equation, reduction, and right ascension. Others, again, 
 relate to the equations of the ascending node of the moon. 
 The rising and setting of the sun, its passage to the meridian, 
 its eclipses, and those of the moon, are also represented on the 
 dial. 
 
 A word respecting almanacs. Some suppose the term to be 
 of Arabic origin, but whether it be from al manach, to count, or 
 al and men months, or maudlins, the course of the months, is not 
 agreed : some give it a Teutonic origin, from the words al and 
 mnan, the moon. Each of these conjectures is plausible. 
 Others again assign it a Saxon derivation. The long almanacs 
 of the Saxons, called " al-mon-aght," were constructed of square 
 pieces of wood, horn, and sometimes metal, about a foot in 
 length, and two inches in diameter, on the four sides of which
 
 198 SALAD FOB THE SOCIAL. 
 
 were graven the golden numbers, dominical letters, and epacts 
 of the different Sundays in each quarter of the year. 
 
 Johannes de Monte-Regio, in 1472, composed the earliest 
 European almanac that issued from the press ; and, before the 
 end of that century, they became common on the Continent. 
 In England they were not in general use until the middle of 
 the sixteenth century. 
 
 The almanac, in its simple form as a calendar, agrees in 
 many respects to the fasti or festival-roll of the Romans. It is 
 of ancient date, and at first was no more than a calendar of 
 Pagan festivals. The word calendar comes from the Latin verb 
 cftlare, to call, or calens, its participle, on account of the custom 
 of the pontiffs summoning the people to apprise them of the 
 festivals occurring in each respective month : these occasions 
 are designated dies calenda the calends or first days of the 
 month. Such was the beginning of our almanac. The fasti 
 seems to be an extension of the primitive religious calendar, 
 and to the pagan feast-days, added the days on which the 
 magistrates were elected and held court. This was its first civil 
 form. 
 
 The calendar of the almanac now in use is an improvement on 
 that of Romulus. He divided the year into ten months, begin 
 ning with March. His year consisted of 304 days. Numa 
 improved on Romulus, and added two months, January to the 
 beginning, and February to the end of the year. In 452 B. C., 
 the Decemvirs placed February after January, and fixed the 
 order of the months. The year at this time consisted of 305^ 
 dnys. According to the imperfect mode of reckoning by the 
 Romans, after the addition of the months of January and Febru 
 ary, B. C., 452, -the twenty-fourth of February was called the 
 sixth l-efore the calends of March, sexto cahndas. In the interca 
 lary year this day was repeated and styled bis sexto calendos 
 whence we derive the term bissextile. The corresponding term leap 
 year, is, however, infelicitously applied, inasmuch as it seems 
 to intimate that a day was leapt over, instead of being thrust
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 199 
 
 in, which is the fact. It may be remarked that in the ecclesiastical 
 calendar, the intercalary day is still inserted between the twenty- 
 fourth and twenty-fifth of February. Bissextile, or leap-year, 
 therefore contains three hundred and sixty-six days, and occurs 
 every fourth year. Leap-year is, according to traditionary lore, 
 invested with sundry privileges and immunities to the fair. The 
 Comic Almanac says, it takes three springs to make one hap 
 year. 1 
 
 Sosigenies, the astronomer, induced Caesar to abolish the lunar 
 year, and regulate time by the sun. Gregory the Thirteenth, 
 in 1582, corrected the calendar, and placed it on its present 
 basis. The Gregorian calendar was received at once by all the 
 Roman Catholic States of Europe. The Protestant powers 
 refused, for some time, to adopt it. England did not receive it 
 till 1752. In that year, the Julian calendar, or old style, was 
 abolished, and the Gregorian, or new style, adopted. This was 
 done by dropping eleven days, the excess of the Julian over the 
 true solar time. Russia still adheres to the old. 
 
 Of the written calendars, perhaps the most interesting, as well 
 as the most ancient, were the " folding-almanacs," of which there 
 are a number still to be seen, in a fine state of preservation, in 
 the British and Oxford Museums. Some are in Latin ; but 
 others again, dating in the middle of the fifteenth century, are 
 in English. Not a few of these compositions were of an astro 
 logical nature, and amongst them may be instanced one by the 
 famous Roger Bacon, and another by the notorious Dr. Lee. 
 
 In some of the almanacs of the sixteenth century may be 
 found the original of the well-known rhymes on the number of 
 days in each mouth. They appear slightly different from our 
 modern version : 
 
 " April, June, and September, 
 Thirty daies as November : 
 Each month also doth never vary, 
 From thirty-one, save February 
 Which twenty-eight doth still confine, 
 Save on Leap-yeare, then twenty-nine."
 
 200 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 A prominent feature of the earlier almanacs was the prognos 
 tications respecting the weather, calculated from the various 
 phases of the moon. Moore s A.lmanac acquired its great noto 
 riety by this, its sale having at one time reached 480,000 
 copies. These astrological predictions were even sanctioned by 
 the Archbishop of Canterbury. 
 
 Astrology is not yet extinct, not only have we even seen a 
 living professor of that occult and venerable science, but the well 
 known " Raphael s Prophetic Almanac," which has existed 
 about thirty-five years, is still annually issued in London. Now 
 as to the origin of the divisions of time ! 
 
 Before the death of JACOB, which happened in 1689, B. C., 
 we find that several nations were so well acquainted with the 
 revolutions of the Moon, as to measure by them the duration of 
 their year. It had been a universal custom among all nations of 
 antiquity as well as the Jews, to divide time into a portion of a 
 iceek or sercn days ; this undoubtedly arose from the tradition 
 with regard to the origin of the world. It was natural for 
 those nations, who lived a pastoral life, or who lived under a 
 serene sky, to observe, that the various appearances of the 
 moon were completed nearly in four weeks ; hence, the division 
 of a month. Those people again who lived by agriculture, and 
 were acquainted with the division of a month, would naturally 
 remark that twelve of these brought back the same temperature 
 of air, or the same seasons ; hence the origin of what is called 
 the lunar year, which has everywhere been recognized in the 
 infancy of science. This, together with the observations of the 
 fixed stars (which we learn from the book of Job, who, accord 
 ing to the best writers, was contemporary with Jacob) must have 
 been very ancient, and led to the discovery of the solar year. 
 
 The first division of the day was into morning, noon, and 
 night ; an i ihese.are the only parts of a day mentioned in the 
 Old Testament. But it is probable that men of science 
 had other more accurate divisions, because we find they had 
 sun-dials. Afterwards they divided their days into twelve
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 201 
 
 hours ; and to this division our Saviour refers when he says, 
 " Are there not twelve hours in a day ?" But their hours must 
 have been of different lengths, at different seasons of the year ; 
 for their hour was a twelfth part of the time the sun continued 
 above the horizon. And as this time is longer in summer than 
 in winter, their summer hours must therefore have been longer 
 than their winter hours. This difference, however, would not 
 be so very sensible in that country as here, as Judea is much 
 -nearer to the equator than we are, and the days there, in con 
 sequence, nearer equal. Their hours were computed from sun 
 rise ; their third hour divided the space between sun-rising and 
 noon ; the ninth hour divided the space between noon and sun 
 set. But in the Xew Testament, we find that they sometimes 
 made use of the Roman mode of reckoning. 
 
 The Roman reckoning was the same as ours, beginning at 
 midnight, and reckoning to noon, twelve hours ; and again 
 from noon till midnight. 
 
 The Hebrews divided their night into four watches of three 
 hours each. The first from six to nine in the evening ; the 
 second from nine to twelve ; the third from midnight to three 
 in the morning ; and the last to six or sun-rising. 
 
 The Jews began their year in March, and the months were : 
 XISAX, ZIF, SIVAN, TAMUZ, AB, ELUL, TISRI, BUL, CISLIEU, 
 TEBEETH, SHEBAT, ADAR. Their civil year commenced with 
 the new moon near the autumnal equinox, in the month called 
 TISRI, corresponding with part of our Septe?nber and October. 
 
 The Jewish months were alternately 29 and 30 days and 
 their year of twelve lunations, 354 days. To recover the lost 
 days, they added a whole mouth after every two or three years, 
 following their twelfth mouth of Adar, and they called this extra 
 month Ve-adar. 
 
 The MOHAMMEDAN S reckon their days from sun-set till sun 
 rise. The CHINESE begin theirs an hour before midnight, 
 and divide the rotation into 12 parts of 2 of our hours, and 
 give a name to each division. The HIXDOOS divide their days 
 
 0*
 
 202 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 into four watches, and each watch into guhrees of 24 minutes 
 each. 
 
 The great and lesser divisions of time into cycles, epochs, 
 and eras, years, months, weeks, and days ; not to mention 
 hours, minutes, and seconds all respectively subserve the 
 purposes of, and to a great exteat exert a controlling influence 
 upon mundane affairs. The most apparent sway of these natu 
 ral or artificial divisions, is observable in the implicit obedience 
 which nature universally yields to the alternations of day and 
 night, as the allotments assigned to activity and repose. It 
 is true there are some slight infringements upon the rule, by 
 the too servile devotees to fashion and folly, who are accus 
 tomed to reverse the order of nature : these, however, but add 
 confirmation to the rule. Again, there seems to exist some- 
 difficulty as to the right determining of the precise time at 
 which the day should begin and terminate. 
 
 Among the ancient nations the day began at sunrise and 
 continued till its light expired : others supposed their day to 
 commence at sunset : the Arabians, again, make theirs to 
 begin at noon, with all navigators and astronomers : while we, 
 in common with the ancient Egyptians, and most of the 
 modern Europeans, date from midnight, which, allowing of all 
 the waking hours of day to come together, is manifestly the 
 most convenient and rational. 
 
 The somewhat arbitrary subdivisions of time into morning 
 forenoon, mid-day, afternoon, evening, and night, are yet not 
 without significance : the same can scarcely be claimed for the 
 more minute distributions of time into hours, minutes, and 
 seconds. Of its sidereal measurements we shall hereafter speak 
 in connection with the zodiacal signs of the months. 
 
 The Egyptians and Chaldeans dated their new year from the 
 autumnal equinox ; so did the Jews for* all civil purposes, but 
 their ecclesiastical year began with the vernal. The Moham 
 medans begin their year the minute the sun enters Aries, the 
 day that Dremschid, the Persian monarch, made his public
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 203 
 
 entry into Persepolis ; in commemoration of which event, he 
 transferred the beginning of the year from its previous date 
 of the autumnal equinox to that of the springtide. The Turks 
 and Arabs are said to date their year from the middle of July ; 
 and the Abyssinians on the 26th of August, as if to increase 
 the variety, and confound the calendar. 
 
 The origin of the names of the days is so remote as to be 
 somewhat involved in the mists of antiquity. According to the 
 best authorities, they derived their designation from the plan 
 ets, or deities worshipped by Pagan nations. 
 
 The Romans designated their days after the heavenly 
 bodies, or after some of their gods, as follows : 
 
 SUNDAY Dies Soils, the day of the SUN. 
 MONDAY Dies Luna, the day of the Moox. 
 TUESDAY Dies Martis, the day of MARS. 
 WEDNESDAY Dies Mercurii, the day of MERCURY. 
 THURSDAY Dies Joi-is, the day of JUPITER. 
 FRIDAY Dies Veneris, the day of VENUS. 
 SATURDAY Dies Saturni, the day of SATURN. 
 
 The French, perpetuating the custom received from the 
 Romans, still retain these names, Lundi, Mardi, Mercredi, &c. 
 While we have adopted from the Saxons the appellations of 
 their idols, which may be traced as follows : thus Sunday, 
 from Sunnan-daeg, from being dedicated to the worship of the 
 sun ; Monday, Monan-daeg, to the moon ; Tuesday, from 
 Tuisco, the most ancient of the Teutonic deities ; Wednesday, 
 a contraction of Wodirfs, or Odin s day ; Thursday, from 
 Thor s-day, or the thunderer s day, devoted to the worship of 
 Thor ; Friday, from Friga s-daeg ; and Saturday, from Seater- 
 daeg, equivalent to Saturn s day. 
 
 Days, weeks, and months serve as the way-marks of Time, 
 by which we measure our progress in the journey of life ; while 
 the succession of the seasons, like the alternations of day and 
 night, remind us of its ever-varying phases and changes, The
 
 204 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 early budding and blossoming of human existence, so redolent of 
 sportive fancies and gay flowers, finds its emblem in the vernal 
 beauty and freshness of spring ; while the russet tints and 
 golden fruits, of autumn, and the blanched face and icy breath 
 of winter, present the no less significant symbols of manhood in 
 its prime and its decadence. The seasons and their change are 
 rife with attractive interest to the contemplative mind ; they 
 afford an ever-enduring feast, to regale and gladden the sense, 
 and refine the soul. The youth of the year, like the spring 
 tide of life, is full of hope, buoyancy, and joyousness. Radiant 
 in freshened beauty, spring diffuses the light of her kindling 
 smiles, and the genial influence of her nectared breath, glad 
 dens the face of all created things. The protracted austerity 
 of winter s desolation but inspires us with a more earnest wel 
 come for the ravishing charms and jubilant voices of the new 
 born spring. What music is there even in her very name 1 
 What new beauties greet us on every side what pleasant 
 objects delight the eye, and what a glowing pleasure does she 
 diffuse about the heart ! We revel in the rich influence of her 
 varied fascinations, till the soul longs to mingle in the sunshine, 
 with the breeze, the buds and blossoms, that send upward their 
 fragrant incense. 
 
 The ancients seem to have followed the indications of nature 
 in making the commencement of the year to synchronize with 
 the spring mouth ; but modern usage adopted a different 
 standard. We propose to bring in successive review the months. 
 The ancients were accustomed to group together the various 
 clusters of stars, for their more ready recognition. To some of 
 these groups, which they termed constellations, they gave the 
 names of a few celebrated personages of their day, and others 
 they named after such birds, beasts, or insects as seemed to be 
 portrayed in. the space described by these stellar objects. 
 The divisions of the heavens designated, to some extent, the 
 seasons of the year, and hence the origin of the signs of the 
 zodiac. In the days of Hipparchus, the month of January was
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 205 
 
 denoted by Aquarius, or the water-bearer, because it was 
 observed that when the sun entered this constellation, it was 
 usually a wintry and wet season of the year. Thus it was 
 represented under the figure of a man pouring out water from 
 an urn. 
 
 JANUARY, our first month (so called from Janus, an ancient 
 king of Italy, who was deified after his death), is derived 
 from the Latin word Januarius. Janus, was reputed to 
 preside over the gate of heaven, the name of the month is 
 indicative of its being at the opening of the New Year. 
 Janus was represented with two faces, looking in oppo 
 site directions : one old, the other youthful, representing the 
 old and the new era. He held a key in his hand, on which 
 were the numbers 365, the number of days in a year which he 
 unlocked and presided over. The temple in Rome, erected to 
 his memory, was quadrangular, having one door and three win 
 dows on each side. It stood upon the Janiculum Hill, and 
 was always kept open in time of war. It was closed only three 
 times during the lapse of seven hundred years. It was 
 closed at the time of the birth of Christ, for then the whole 
 world was at peace. Our Saxon ancestors called January, 
 
 Wolf-monat, or " Wolf-month," on account of the famished 
 wolves which invaded their villages ; they also styled it Aeften 
 
 Yala, or after Christmas. 
 
 Prince, the peasant-poet, thus apostrophizes the initial 
 month : 
 
 He cometh ! the elder born child of the year, 
 With a turbulent voice, and a visage austere ; 
 But his cold, callous hand,- and his boreal breath, 
 Prepare for new life, the low relics of death ; 
 A changeling in temper, but ever sublime, 
 Is this moody, mad offspring of stern winter time. 
 
 The advent of the New Year has been from time immemo 
 rial kept as a day of rejoicing. By the Greeks it was a solemn
 
 206 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 festival : by the Romans one of feasting and congratulation. 
 Throughout Christendom it is kept as a holiday. Bells are 
 rung at midnight to celebrate the exit of the old, and the 
 advent of the new year. 
 
 The commencement of the year, has at different times been 
 assigned to the 25th of December, or Christmas day, the 1st 
 of January, or the day of Circumcision, and the 25th of 
 March, or Easter day, commemorative of the Resurrection. 
 
 Despite its icy breath and frigid aspect, rugged wiuter 
 seems to be prophetic of a joyous new existence, as those 
 who have become frosted with age appear for the time to have 
 acquired a spirit of rejuvenescence. It forms a sort of resting- 
 place in the progress of life s journey, from which we all per 
 suade ourselves, however we may deprecate the past, that the 
 future is gilded with Iris hopes of happiness. If the external 
 aspect of nature appear cheerless and chilly, the scene is but 
 the more heightened by the contrast of the sunny smiles and 
 generous hospitalities of the happy fireside of kindred and 
 friends. There is something picturesque as well as grateful in 
 this time-honored custom of commemorating the nativity of the 
 year, by acts of beneficence and votive offerings to friendship. 
 
 Friendly interchange of visits, congratulations and the pre 
 sentation of gifts, seem to have been in vogue in every age. 
 The ancient Druids were accustomed to cut the sacred misletoe, 
 with a golden knife, in a forest dedicated to the gods, and to 
 distribute its branches with much ceremony, as new year s gifts 
 to the people. 
 
 Of the special holidays and festivals of this month, the first 
 in order is that of Circumcision a festival of the Romish 
 church, and adopted also by the Episcopacy since the year 1550. 
 The next festival in the Calendar is that styled Epiphany, or 
 Ticelfth-day indicating the manifestation of Christ to the 
 Gentile world, which event is ascribed to this date. This 
 holiday used to be characterized in Saxon times by the 
 wassail-bowl a spiced decoction, deriving its name from wees-
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 207 
 
 had (be healthy), the toast the sturdy old Saxons adopted on 
 the occasion of their libations. 
 
 The second, and briefest of the family of months February, 
 derives its name from Februo, to purify ; hence Felruarius, the 
 appellation assigned by the Romans to the expiatory sacrifices 
 they were accustomed to offer at this season. Pisces, the 
 constellation over which Xeptune was supposed to preside, was 
 regarded by the ancients as the last of the winter signs, and 
 was represented under the figure of two fishes ; but at present 
 it is the first in order of the stellar groups of the zodiac, pre 
 siding over the vernal equinox. 
 
 The Saxon name for this month was spront-kele, also sal-monath, 
 or pancake month, from their custom of offering cakes to the 
 sun, for his increasing power. 
 
 Midway in this month comes the festival of St. Valentine. 
 All we know of him is that he was canonized in consequence 
 of his having suffered martyrdom in the third century, under 
 the emperor Claudius.* Some have conjectured that the cus 
 tom of devoting this day to Cupid is traceable to the ancient 
 Romans, whose festivals, called Lupercalia, were celebrated 
 about this time. On these occasions, amidst a variety of cere 
 monies, the names of young women were placed in a box, from 
 which they were drawn by a band of devotees, as chance 
 directed. 
 
 The practical joking which prevails so universally on the day 
 in question, the love of fun and caricature with Cupid, is of 
 comparatively modern date. Formerly, love-making among our 
 sober progenitors wore a much more grave and demure aspect : 
 
 * "St. Valentine was a holy priest of Rome, who, with St. Mariua and his family, 
 assisted the martyrs In the persecution under Claudius II. He was apprehended, and 
 Bent by the Emperor to the Prefect of Rome, who, on finding all his efforts to make him 
 renounce his faith ineffectual, commanded him to be beaten with clubs, and afterwards 
 beheaded; and^this occurred on the 14th. About the year 270, Pope Julius is said to 
 have built a church near Ponte Mole, to his memory, which for a long time gave name 
 to the gate afterwards called Porta del Populo. The greatest part of hi* relics are 
 preserved in the Church of St. Praxedes.
 
 208 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 it was not a matter to be trifled with, that of linking hearts 
 and hands, with the joint fortunes or misfortunes of life. 
 
 Oh love ! how potent is thy sway ; 
 
 Thou rt terrible, indeed, to most men ! 
 But once a year there comes a day 
 
 When thou tormentest chiefly postmen. 
 Oh hard indeed the lot must be 
 
 Of him who wears thy galling fetters ! 
 Eut e en more miserable he, 
 
 Who must go round with all thy letters. 
 
 Without pretending to estimate the obligations of many of 
 the devotees to Hymen to this worthy saint s influence, the 
 festival, occurring half-way in this most inclement and unpopular 
 month, certainly tends to beguile many of its objectionable 
 accompaniments snow, sleet, and that worst of all kinds of 
 weather a penetrating thaw, against which even a suit of 
 mail may be said to be scarcely impervious. Slirove-Tuesday 
 and Ash-Wednesday occur in this month, both being initiatory 
 days to the season of Lent ; the religious observance of which 
 originated with the Romish Church. 
 
 Shrove-Tuesday regulates most of the movable feasts. It 
 is the next after the first new moon in the month of February, 
 and follows the first Sunday in Lent. Formerly, the people 
 were expected to prepare themselves for Lent by confessing 
 themselves, hence the word shrove,. 
 
 Ash-Wednesday is the first day of Lent, supposed to have 
 been so called from a custom in the Church of sprinkling ashes 
 that day on the heads of the penitents. 
 
 MARCH is so called from Mars, the reputed father of Romu 
 lus, and god of war. It was, as already intimated, placed as 
 the first month by some of the ancients, and by others as the 
 third, fourth, or fifth, and even the tenth month of the year. 
 
 The SAXONS called it lend monath, or length month, 
 because the days then begin in length to exceed the nights.
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 209 
 
 Lenct, now called Lent, means spring ; hence March was the 
 spring month. The Saxons also called it Illyd-monath, from 
 hlyd, which means stormy, and in this cense March was the 
 stormy month. 
 
 March is a rude, and sometimes boisterous month, possessing 
 many of the characteristics of winter, yet awakening sensations 
 more pleasant than the two following months, for it gives us 
 the first announcement and taste of spring. What can equal 
 the delight of the heart at the very first glimpse of spring 
 the first peeping of buds and green herbs ? It is like a 
 new life infused into our bosoms. A spirit of tenderness a 
 burst of freshness and luxury of feeling possesses us ; and 
 though fifty springs have broken upon us, their joy, unlike 
 many joys of time, is not an atom impaired. 
 
 True it is that blustering, rude Boreas causes boisterous 
 excitement about this time, as if seeking to awaken nature 
 from her long sleep of winter ; while dusty particles scorn all 
 local habitation, performing fantastic gyrations in the air, 
 to the serious discomfiture of our physical organs, especially the 
 optical and olfactory. 
 
 The dry winds of lusty March, however they may be depre 
 cated for their personal incivilities, arc nevertheless useful to 
 the purposes of agriculture. Its zodiacal sign, Aries, was 
 assigned to this, originally the first month of the year, because 
 the ancients considered the ram as the father of the fleecy 
 flock which afforded them both food and raiment. 
 
 St. David s Day is celebrated by the Welsh as commemora 
 tive of their patron Saint : it occurs on the first of the month. 
 
 We now come to the festival held in honor of the tutelar 
 Saint of Ould Ireland Saint Patrick who, according to 
 ancient lore, in the year of grace 433 landed near Wicklow, 
 having, it is said, been born at Kilpatrick, Scotland. His 
 glorious memory is mnernonized by the well-known Shamrack. 
 The real name of this notable apostle of the Irish was Maenwyn. 
 Pope Celestine gave him his ecclesiastical patronymic of Patri-
 
 210 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 cus, when he consecrated him as bishop to Ireland in 433, A.D. 
 Originally there was a dispute, according to Lover, as to the 
 true anniversary of this renowned saint, some supposing the 
 eighth and others the ninth to be the correct date : the humor 
 ist, however, represents a priest as settling the difficulty as 
 follows : 
 
 Says he, " Boys, don t be fighting for eight or for nine ; 
 Don t be always dividing but sometimes combine. 
 Combine eight with nine, and seventeen is the mark. 
 So let that be his birth-day." " Amen, ;j says the clerk. 
 So they all got blind drunk which completed their bliss, 
 And we keep up the practice from that day to this. 
 
 St. Agnes Eve was deemed propitious for young maidens in 
 the affair of securing good husbands ; and St. PauTs Day was 
 also regarded as one among the numerous days of ominous 
 character by the superstitious of olden time. 
 
 Easter Sunday is always the first Sunday after the full moon 
 which happens upon, or next after, the 21st day of March, and 
 if the full moon should occur upon a Sunday, Easter clay is the 
 Sunday after. It was so fixed in early times, that the Chris 
 tians might avoid the celebration of Easter at the time of the 
 Jewish passover, held on the very day of the full moon. 
 
 Palm, or Passion Sunday, is the first Sunday before Easter, 
 so called in commemoration of Christ s entering into Jerusalem, 
 eight days before the pass.over. The Passover of the Jews 
 closely agrees with the time when the sun crosses or pastes over 
 the equator, an event that could hardly fail to be celebrated 
 with rites and ceremonies by a people so devoted to astronomy 
 as the Egyptians who had educated Moses. Pascha was the 
 primitive term, the English name passover being derived from 
 God s passing over the houses of the Israelites and sparing 
 their first-born, when those of the Egyptians were put to 
 death. 
 
 Lady-day occurs on the 25th. Its title is also derived from
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 211 
 
 the Roman calendar and memorializes the Annunciation of the 
 Virgin. It is the high festival of Catholicism, which, in conse 
 quence of the extreme honors it pays to the Virgin Mary, has 
 been sometimes termed the Marian Church. 
 
 Ascension Day, called also Holy Thursday, is celebrated by 
 the Church as the day on which our Saviour ascended into 
 heaven, which happened the fortieth day after the resurrec 
 tion. 
 
 APRIL, is derived from aperio, to open. The first of April was 
 by the Romans consecrated to Venus, the goddess of beauty, as 
 the earth begins at this time to be covered with beautiful 
 flowers. 
 
 The Saxons called it oster, or easier month, it being the time 
 when the feast of the Saxon goddess, Eastre, Easter or Eoster, 
 was celebrated. 
 
 The month of April is one of alternating smiles and tears. By 
 some writers it has been designated the sweetest of the series, 
 because it ushers in the "delicate-footed May." 
 
 Sighing, storming, singing, smiling, 
 With her many moods beguiling, 
 
 April walks the wakening earth. 
 TVheresoe er she looks and lingers, 
 Wheresoe er she lays her fingers. 
 
 Some new charm starts into birth. 
 Fitful clouds about her sweeping, 
 Coming, going, frowning, weeping, 
 
 Melt in fertile blessings round. 
 Frequent rainbows that embrace her, 
 And with gorgeous girdles grace her, 
 Dropping flowers upon the ground.* 
 
 This month, it will be recollected, is introduced by the equi 
 vocal practice of imposing upon our credulity, under the style 
 and title of April-fooling. Antiquarians have puzzled them- 
 
 *J. C. Prince.
 
 212 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 selves and their readers by their vain attempts to account for 
 a custom, which still obtains even among some of the more sapi 
 ent and refined. Without, therefore, following in their wake, and 
 thus incur the risk of suspicion with the reader, that we mean to 
 illustrate the practice at his expense we shall content ourselves 
 by simply citing the emphatic words of an old and respectable 
 authority Mr. Douce. "After all the conjectures," he says, 
 "which have been formed touching its origin, it is certainly 
 borrowed from the French, and may, I think, be deduced from 
 this simple analogy. The French call their April fish (Pois- 
 sons d Avril,) silly mackerel, or simpletons, which suffer 
 themselves to be caught in this month. But, as with us," he 
 continues, "April is not the season of that fish, we have very 
 properly substituted the word fools." 
 
 Be very circumspect on this day of attending to gratuitous 
 advice, given in the street, respecting your costume or appear 
 ance. Do not heed any officious person who may insist upon 
 your picking up anything he may imagine you have dropped. 
 
 "Few persons are aware of the real derivation of many of the 
 old customs which have been handed down almost from time 
 immemorial. Thus, decking the house with evergreens at 
 Christmas is the remains of a pagan superstition. In Great 
 Britain the holly is used for this purpose, and the holly in 
 the days of paganism was dedicated to Saturn, as the mistletoe 
 was to Friga, the Scandinavian Venus. The yule log bears 
 reference to the constant fire kept up by the priests of Baal, 
 and the Maypole, with all its adjuncts, offers an imitation of 
 the games formerly held in honor of the goddess Flora. 
 
 About the nineteenth day the sun enters Taurus a con 
 stellation which includes one hundred and forty-one stars, the 
 principal of which is Aldebaran, of the first magnitude: it also 
 comprises two remarkable representations, viz. : the Pleiades, 
 and the Hyades. Alcyone, the principal star in the Pleiades, is 
 supposed by Prof. Madler to be the grand central sun iii the 
 universe.
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 213 
 
 Good Friday is designed to commemorate the crucifixion. It 
 is religiously regarded by the Episcopacy as a solemn festival 
 of the church : and at St. Peter s at Rome, it is kept up in the 
 service of the Tenebra a ceremonial representing the entomb 
 ment of the Saviour. Cross-buns used on this day, are in imi 
 tation of the ecclesiastical eulogia, or consecrated loaves, for 
 merly bestowed in the church as alms, or given to those, who, 
 from any impediment could not receive the host. It will be 
 remembered (speaking of Friday) that popular superstition has 
 marked this day of the week as " unlucky." This vulgar notion 
 arose doubtless from the fact of the crucifixion having been 
 supposed to occur on that day, with all its solemn and ominous 
 accessories of darkness and earthquake. Leigh Hunt records 
 it against no less a name than Byrou s, that he was the victim 
 of this silly superstition ; and alas that it is so there are 
 many still extant who confess to so ludicrous a weakness, 
 especially among sailors and silly women. The conceit doubt 
 less took its rise in heathen times the monks endorsing the 
 usage in their designating certain days of their calendar by 
 the names dies atri and dies albi. 
 
 In order to put a stop to the superstition which attached to 
 this unlucky day, a company of men once laid the timbers of a 
 ship on Friday, launched her on Friday ; after some trouble they 
 found a captain of the name of Friday, and with still more 
 trouble procured men who were willing to sail in her on that 
 day. She started on a Friday for her destination, and was never 
 more heard of. This fact is accredited, being stoutly insisted 
 upon by all sailors. 
 
 If Friday was ever ill-omened, its reputation is sufficiently 
 redeemed, for it was on that day that Columbus discovered the 
 American continent, that George Washington was born, and 
 that the Pilgrim fathers reached the Plymouth rock. 
 
 Ancient calendars designate two days in each month as 
 unfortunate, namely of January, the first and seventh ; Febru 
 ary, the third aud fourth ; March, the first and fourth ; April,
 
 214 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 the tenth and eleventh ; May, the third and seventh ; June, the 
 tenth and fifteenth ; July, the tenth and thirteenth ; August, 
 the first and second ; September, the third and tenth ; Octo 
 ber, the third and tenth ; November, the third and fth ; 
 December, the seventh and tenth. Each of these days was 
 devoted to some peculiar fatality. 
 
 " The flowery May, who from her green lap throws 
 The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose. 
 Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire 
 Mirth and youth, and warm desire ; 
 Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 
 Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 
 Thus we salute thee with an early song, 
 And welcome ,thee, and wish thee long." 
 
 Thus sung the "blind old bard" of English verse, and a 
 right fruitful theme has this "queen month" of the calendar 
 been to the many worshippers of the muse from the days of 
 old Chaucer down to our own. 
 
 May is the most instructive and religious, as well as the most 
 delightful of all festival times. It seems to be the bridal 
 season of heaven and earth, and the whole month the honey 
 moon. 
 
 " Buds are filling, leaves are swelling, 
 
 Flowers on Held, and bloom on tree : 
 O er the earth, and air, and ocean, 
 Nature holds her jubilee." 
 
 Wordsworth thus daintily pictures forth the harbingers of 
 spring : 
 
 " Pansies, lilies, kingcup?, daisies, 
 Let them live upon their praises ; 
 Long as there s a sun that sets 
 
 Primroses will have their glory 
 Long as there are violets 
 
 They will have a place in story." 
 
 The following lines of Tennyson seem to glow with the 
 beauty and bloom of spring :
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 215 
 
 " In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin s breast, 
 In the spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest ; 
 In the spring a lovelier iris changes on the burnished dove, 
 In the spring a young man s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love." 
 
 With many other pastoral customs of the olden time, that 
 of the rural celebration of May-day is well-nigh passed into 
 oblivion. Bourne tells us, that in his time, in the villages in 
 the Xorth of England, the youth of both sexes were wont 
 to rise before dawn, and assemble in some neighboring wood, 
 accompanied with music, and there they gathered branches 
 from the trees, and wove garlands and bouquets of flowers, with 
 which they returned to deck their homes. 
 
 The rustic festival of the May-pole, and the ceremony of 
 crowning the pride of the village as May-queen, formed one of 
 the most picturesque of the good old pastimes of our English 
 ancestors : and is also as ancient as any of which we have any 
 record ; it being doubtless identical with the festival of the 
 Romans in honor of Flora, which they styled Floralia, and 
 which occurred on the fourth of the kalends of May. Some 
 times the May-pole was brought to the village-green in great 
 pomp, being drawn by twenty yoke of oxen, each being gar 
 landed with flowers, with which, as well as with branches, 
 flags, and streamers, the pole itself was profusely wreathed and 
 decked. 
 
 The rural festivities of the May-queen are no longer seen, 
 but the denizens of New York, for the special benefit of the 
 landlords, have substituted a custom instead, of a most moving 
 and exciting character ; we refer to their curious passion for 
 changing their habitations on that day. On this eventful day, 
 the entire community is in a transition state. Like a busy 
 swarm of ants, people are hurrying to and fro, hither and thither, 
 iu the most amusing confusion ; each eagerly in quest of his 
 new abode. This singular fancy for change of habitation seems 
 peculiar to this locomotive people ; and so generally is the cus 
 tom adopted by them, that all business for the time is suffered
 
 216 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 to fall into a state of collapse. Xo wonder that scarce a vestige 
 of antiquity is permitted to remain to point the past history of 
 a city, whose inhabitants cease even to venerate the walls of 
 their own consecrated homes. The festivals of this month, 
 include among others, Whit Sunday, and Trinity Sunday ; the 
 former probably derived from the custom in the Romish church 
 of converts, newly baptised, appearing from Easter to Whit 
 suntide dressed in white. 
 
 Maia, the brightest of the Pleiades, from whom this month 
 derived its name, is fabled to have been the daughter of Atlas. 
 
 The Anglo-Saxons called this month tremelki, because then 
 they began to milk their kine three times a day. 
 
 The zodiacal sign of May is Gemini fthe twins), named 
 Castor and Pollux, who are fabled to have appeared to sailors 
 in storms with lambent fires on their heads, as propitious to 
 the mariner. 
 
 May is synonymous with sunny weather ; the state of the 
 weather, by the way, is an ever-fruitful theme of discourse 
 with all sorts of people. It seems ever uppermost in our 
 thoughts, or upon the tip of the tongue. 
 
 It is worthy of note when two friends meet together 
 The first topic they start is the state of the weather 
 It is always the same, both with young and with old, 
 Tis either too hot, or else tis too cold, 
 Tis either too wet, or else tis too dry. 
 The glass is too low, or else tis too high ; 
 But if all had their wishes once jumbled together, 
 No mortal on earth could exist in such weather. 
 
 We now approach the rosy, summer month of JCXE. It 
 was by the Romans called Junius, in honor of the youth 
 who served Regulus in the war ; or it was more probably 
 derived from Juno, the goddess of heaven. 
 
 The Saxons gave it the name of weyd-monath, from the 
 German weiden, to pasture.
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 217 
 
 This is the season for fresh and fnigrant flowers-^ -those 
 gaudy and brilliant gems, nature bedecks herself withal : the 
 very air is perfumed with their rich odors : and in the words 
 of Coleridge, 
 
 " Many a hidden brook, in this leafy month of June, 
 
 To the sleeping woods, all night singeth a quiet tune ." 
 
 Towards the close of the month, that pleasant rural occupa 
 tion, hay-making, commences : the country now begins to 
 assume a most beautiful aspect here the corn is already begin 
 ning to peep out, here the meadows are mown and cleared, 
 and here again the grass still waves in all the rich luxuriance 
 of wild flowers, awaiting the reapers. 
 
 Of the red-letter-days of June, one of the most notable is the 
 longest of the year, the 21st., on which occurs the summer 
 solstice. 
 
 We have now completed just half the circuit of the calendar; 
 and it is high noon of the year ; suppose we indulge in a brief 
 homily upon Time by way of tempering our trifling, and in 
 order to save our sobriety from shipwreck. How important 
 is it that we duly value the passing moment all we can boast 
 of time in possession yet are we not ever prone rather to 
 indulge vain regrets for the past, or eager anticipations for the 
 future ? " Spare minutes are the gold-dust of time," says a 
 quaint author ; of all portions of our life they are the most 
 to be guarded and watched, for they are the gaps through 
 which idleness tempts us astray." An impartial review of the 
 past is fraught with instruction to the future : 
 
 Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours, 
 And ask them what report they bore to heaven. 
 
 Midsummer, also, naturally reminds us of the meridian of 
 life a point in our history, when w r e may with advantage take 
 a retrospective as well as a prospective survey ; when the 
 
 10
 
 218 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 premonitions of an occasional gray hair, or wrinkle on the 
 brow, are too decisive to be mistaken. 
 
 The more we live, more brief appear, 
 
 Our life s succeeding stages : 
 A day to childhood seems a year, 
 
 And years, like passing ages. 
 
 The gladsome current of our youth, 
 
 Ere passion yet disorders, 
 Steals, lingering, like a river smooth. 
 
 Along its grassy borders. 
 
 But as the care-worn cheek grows wan, 
 
 And sorrow s shafts fly thicker, 
 Ye stars, that measure life to man ! 
 
 Why seem your courses quicker? 
 
 When joys have lost their blootn and breath, 
 
 And life itself is vapid ; 
 Why, as we reach the falls of Death, 
 
 Feel we the tide more rapid ? 
 
 It may be strange yet who would change 
 
 Time s course to slower speeding ? 
 When one by one our friends are gone, 
 
 And left our bosoms bleeding. 
 
 Heaven gives our years of fading strength 
 
 Indemnifying fleetness ; 
 And those of youth, a seeming length, 
 
 Proportioned to their sweetness.* 
 
 We now come to the sultry summer month of JULY when 
 Sol is in the ascendant, and in his glowing ardor to entertain 
 his guests, gives to all creation such an ardent greeting. 
 Punch s humorous apostrophe is too good to be omitted in this 
 place : it runs in this wise : 
 
 * Campbell
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 219 
 
 " Well done, tliou glorious orb ! well done, indeed, 
 Thou sun ; for nature now is one great feast, 
 Roasted, and boiled, and fried, and baked, by thee. 
 Thy fire hath boikd the fishes in the streams ; 
 Roasted the living mutton on the Downs ; 
 Fried all the parsley on its very bed ; 
 And baking the potatoes under ground, 
 Hath cooked them growing ; so that men may dig 
 Tatersall hot! " 
 
 This month is distinguished by its introducing the celebrated 
 " Vug-days." That every dog has his day, is an admitted axiom, 
 but why the canine fraternity at large should thus monopolize 
 this particular part of the calendar, we cannot divine : and as 
 we prefer not to dogmatize, we respectfully refer the reader 
 to an old authority, and a witty dog into the bargain Dog 
 berry. Whether it is that they expect to run mad with impunity 
 during this term, to the terror of all mayors and municipalities; 
 or whether it is because all the rest of the year they get kicked 
 out of sight, that this brief interval is secured for their jubilee, 
 we are alike unable to determine ; and must, therefore, leave 
 the learned in such matters to decide, and shall be content to 
 con-cur in their decision. 
 
 Tom Hood has something to add on the subject, which we 
 subjoin : 
 
 " Most doggedly I do maintain, 
 Aud hold the dogma true 
 That four-legged dogs although we see 
 
 We ve some that walk on two, 
 Among them there are clever dogs 
 
 A few you d reckon mad. 
 While some are very jolly dogs 
 
 And others very sad. 
 I ve heard of physic thrown to dogs, 
 
 And very much incline, 
 To think it true, for we ve a pack 
 Who only bark and w(h)ine." 
 
 The " dog-days," or Dies Caniculares, according to Bailey s
 
 220 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Dictionary, "are commonly from the 24th of July to the 28th 
 of August, which are very hot the dog-star increasing- ihe 
 heat and vulgarly reckoned unwholesome." The dog-days, 
 says Chambers, precede and follow the heliacal rising of the 
 star Sirius, which, in Pliny s time, was on the 18th of July. 
 
 Even in modern as well as ancient times, this " heated 
 term" has been connected with the appearance of this star in 
 the morning ; though the extreme heat is palpably the effect 
 of the continued high position of the sun. Now the fact is 
 known, that the dog-star cannot increase the heat, because, by 
 the precession of the equinoxes, its heliacal rising will, in a 
 thousand years, take place in the depth of winter. 
 
 At Argos, a festival was expressly instituted for the killing 
 of dogs at this season, and the institution seems to be preserved 
 at the present time in other cities. 
 
 The first of the summer Signs was called Cancer, or the 
 crab, because, when the sun entered this constellation, it was 
 observed to have attained its greatest northern distance from 
 the equator, and then began to assume a retrograde motion, 
 which the ancients represented under the figure of a crab, on 
 account of its creeping or moving backward. 
 
 While Hercules was engaged in destroying the famous 
 Lernaean monster, according to mythologists, Juno sent a sea- 
 crab to bite the hero s feet. This new enemy was soon dis 
 patched, but Juno, to reward its services, placed it among the 
 stars. 
 
 Proudly, lovely and serenely, 
 
 Power and passion in her eye, 
 With an aspect calm and queenly, 
 Comes the summer-nymph, July, 
 Crowned with azure, clothed with splendor, 
 
 Gorgeous as an Eastern bride, 
 While the glowing hours attend her 
 O er the languid landscape wide.* 
 
 JULY ( from the Latin name Julius,) was conferred upon this 
 
 * J. C. Prince.
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 221 
 
 month, in honor of Julius Caesar. The Saxons named it hen- 
 wjiialh (foliage mouth). The zodiacal sign is Sirius, which is 
 apparently the largest, the most refulgent, and one of the 
 nearest objects in the sidereal heavens, is situated in the con 
 stellation Canis Major, 21 deg. 40 min southeast of the belt 
 of Onon. Its distance is computed at not less than 19 billions 
 of miles from the Earth, and if it occupied the place of our 
 sun, it would appear 37 times larger, and would give nearly 
 14 times as much light? 
 
 On the fifteenth of July we have St. Swithin s day meraor. 
 able from the tradition that, if there should be rain on that day, 
 it would continue wet weather for forty days afterwards. This 
 conceit has its origin in one of the fables of the Latin Church, 
 which reads as follows, " St. Swithin, bishop of Winchester, 
 before his demise, which occurred in the year 868, desired that 
 he might be buried in the open church-yard and not in the chan 
 cel of the minster, as was usual with other bishops ; and his 
 request was complied with ; but the monks on his being can 
 onized, considering it disgraceful for the saint to lie in a public 
 cemetery, resolved to remove his body into the choir, which was 
 to have been done with solemn procession on the 15th of July 
 it rained, however, so violently for forty days together at this 
 season, that the design was abandoned." 
 
 The " glorious Fourth " is the national birth-day of Freedom 
 in the United States, when the " sovereign people " indulge in 
 the exercise of the " largest liberty," and by way of canonizing 
 the goddess, disturb the quiet with incessant discharges of guns, 
 firing of pistols, and rushing of rockets 
 
 The golden AUGUST now bursts upon us that gorgeous 
 month, most rife with all sorts of delicious fruits, as well as of 
 golden crops of wavy corn, and sheaves of garnered grain. 
 
 This month is introduced by Lammas-day one of the great 
 thanksgiving festivals of former times : and it closes under 
 the saintly patronage of Jerome. Harvest-home, the rustic 
 jubilee of rural life, also belongs to this glorious month.
 
 222 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 AUGUST was called Sextilis by the Romans, from its being 
 the sixth month in their calendar, until the Senate complimented 
 Augustus by naming it after him, because he had then first 
 entered upon his consulship, having subdued Egypt to the 
 Roman dominion ! 
 
 The Saxons called this month arn-monath, more rightly barn- 
 monath, indicating the filling of barns with corn. 
 
 The zodiacal sign of the mouth that of Tirgo the Virgin, 
 is supposed to be the Asbraea, the Goddess of Justice, who. 
 according to mythological lore, lived upon the earth during the 
 Golden Age ; but being offended at the wickedness of mankind 
 during the Brazen and Iron Ages, she returned to heaven among 
 the stars, and has since been known under the name of Virgo. 
 
 The sign Virgo was represented with ears of corn in her 
 hands, signifying the harvest. Spenser thus refers to it 
 
 being rich arrayed. 
 
 In garment all of gold down to the ground, 
 Yet rode he not, but led a lovely mayd, 
 Forth by the lily hand, the which wascrown d 
 With eares of corne, and full her hand was found. 
 
 The 24th of the month is celebrated as St. Bartholomew s 
 Day, a holiday of the Church of England. Bartholomew was 
 an apostle, but there is no scriptural account of his labors or 
 death. The legend of the Romish Church represents him as 
 preaching in the Indies, and concluding his life by being flayed 
 alive by order of a brother of the king of Armenia In mem 
 ory of his death, it was customary at the monastic institutions, 
 in the middle ages, to distribute small knives among the people. 
 The day has a horrible celebrity in connection with the massa 
 cre of the Protestants at Paris, in 1572, by that wretched 
 woman, Catherine De Medicis. 
 
 Crowned with the sickle and the wbeaten fheaf, 
 While Autumn nodding o er the yellow plain 
 Comes jovial on.
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 223 
 
 The radiant splendor of the sunny months, now gives place 
 to the sober tints of russet autumn. 
 
 A pastoral writer observes, Autumn, yet with her hand 
 grasped in the feeble clasp of Summer, as if the latter were loth 
 to depart, still retains much green hanging about the 
 woods, and much blue and sunshine about the sky and 
 earth. But the leaves are rustling in the forest paths, the 
 harvest-fields are silent, and the heavy fruit that bows down 
 the branches, proclaims that the labor of Summer is ended 
 that her yellow-robed sister has come to gather in and garner 
 the rich treasures she has left behind. 
 
 Hope, who looked with a cheerful countenance upon the 
 landscape of Spring, has departed. Instead of watching each 
 green and flowery object, day by day, as it budded and 
 blossomed, we now see only the traces of slow and sure decay, 
 the green fading, bit by bit, until the leaves become like the 
 skeleton wings of an insect, the wind blowing through those 
 places which were before marked with azure, and crimson, and 
 gold. The sun himself seems growing older ; he rises later 
 from his bed in the morning, and returns to rest earlier in the 
 evening, and seems not to have that strength which he pos 
 sessed when he rose in the youthful vigor of Spring, and the 
 bright and cheerful manhood of Summer ; for his golden eyes 
 seem clouded, and his breath thick and heavy, as he strug 
 gles through the surrounding fog. All these are marks of the 
 seasons, telling us that the year is growing gray, and slowly 
 tottering towards the darkness and grave-like silence of Winter. 
 
 " A moral character is attached to autumnal scenes the 
 leaves falling like our years, the flowers fading like our hours, 
 the clouds fleeting like our illusions, the light diminishing like 
 our intelligence, the sun growing colder like our affections, the 
 rivers becoming frozen like our lives all bear secret relations 
 to our destinies." * 
 
 The name SEPTEMBER being derived from Septcm, seven, indi- 
 
 * Chateaubriand.
 
 224 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 cates its order in the Roman Calendar, prior to the Julian 
 reform. The zodiacal sign is the constellation of Libra, or the 
 Balance ; because when the sun entered this asterism it seemed 
 to hold the days and nights in equilibrio, giving the same 
 proportion of light as darkness to the inhabitants of all parts 
 of the globe. It was called gerst-monath by the Saxons ; gerst 
 signifying barley, which ripens in this month. 
 
 The transition from autumnal richness to the desolation of 
 winter is gradual, almost imperceptible, like our own advancing 
 years. jVliller the poet writes about it. 
 
 Forest scenery never looks so beautiful as in Autumn. It 
 is then that nature seems to have exhausted all the fantastic 
 colors of her palette, and to have scattered her richest red, 
 brown, yellow, and purple, upon the foliage. Every gust of 
 wind that now blows, brings down thousands of golden-colored 
 acorns, that come pattering like little feet among the fallen 
 leaves, leaving empty their smooth, round, hollow cups, from 
 which the old poets in their fables framed the drinking vessels 
 of the fairies. 
 
 Hood s ode to Autumn is a gem we cite a passage from 
 it : 
 
 Where are the blossoms of summer ? In the West, 
 Blushing their last to the last sunny hours, 
 Where the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest 
 Like tearful Proserpine, snatched from her flowers, 
 
 To a most gloomy breast. 
 
 Where is the pride of Summer the greeu prime 
 The many, many leaves of all twinkling ? Three 
 On the mossed Elm : three on the naked lime 
 Trembling and one upon the old oak tree ! 
 
 Where is the Dryad s immortality? 
 Gone into mournful cypress and dark yew, 
 Or wearing the long gloomy winter through 
 lu the smooth holly s green eternity. 
 
 We add another apostrophe in prose, from ail unknown 
 pen :
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 225 
 
 "Like some richly illuminated manuscript of cloistered art, 
 the wonder book of Xature is spreading out its autumn pages 
 in all their wonted brilliancy of mingled coloring; every 
 mountain is a swelling mound of jewelled lustre, and every vale 
 of woodland a blending of rich rainbow tints, over which a 
 bright sun-warmed haze is spread, just as the old missal painters 
 used to canopy the heads of saints and apostles with a halo of 
 golden light. The hoar-frost covers the meadows in the early 
 morning, and lies in crisp, sparkling wreathes upon the fences 
 and barn-roofs, while overhead, a sky of the deepest blue is 
 beginning to soften under the sunshine. Not a leaf quivers, 
 and the pale cottage smoke curls up in a straight, unwavering 
 column through the frosty air, while cloudlets of mist rest 
 lingeringly on the lake, or creep lazily up the hill-sides. 
 
 " There is exhilaration in the air, and a new life in the wind 
 that comes careering from the northwest, bearing frost on its 
 wings, and brightness to the autumn woods. The farmer is 
 early afield, with his cheery call, as he guides his oxen to the 
 late harvesting. The maize fields display their tent-like rows, 
 with garniture of yellow pumpkins scattered between ; and the 
 buckwheat patches, no longer yielding their " honied fragrance," 
 are falling before the quick-swinging cradle, and lie like red 
 spots upon the landscape. The orchards are brimming with rosy 
 fruit, and the chestnut burs are showering down their treasures 
 in the woods. Plenty seems to reign, and the fullness of the 
 year has put its stamp of gladness upon all." 
 
 " A mellow richness on the clustered trees ; 
 And. from a beaker full of richest dyes, 
 Pouring new glory on the autumn woods, 
 And dipping in warm light the pillared clouds ; 
 Morn, on the mountain, like a summer bird, 
 Lifts up her purple wing ; and in the vales 
 The gentle wind, a sweet and passionate rover, 
 Kisses the blushing leaves and stirs up life 
 Within the solemn woods of ash deep crimsoned, 
 10*
 
 226 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 And silver beech, the maple yellow leaved 
 Where Autumn, like a faint old man, Kits down 
 By the wayside aweary. Through the trees 
 The golden robin moves ; the purple finch, 
 That on wild cherry and red cedar feeds, 
 A winter bird, comes with its plaintive whistle 
 And pecks by the wych-bazel ; while aloft 
 From cotr.age roofs the warbling bluebird sings/ * 
 
 OCTOBER is from the Latin octo, eight ; with the Saxon it 
 was styled winterfyllith winter-beginning. 
 
 The principal Saints days of this month are those of St. 
 Dennis who, according to the legend, walked two miles with 
 his head in his hand, after it had been cut off and of St. Cris 
 pin, the patron of the shoe-making fraternity. 
 
 One of the Comic Almanacs, attempts the facetious on this 
 month, in the following playful stanzas : 
 
 The sum of Summer is cast at last, 
 
 And carried to Wintry season, 
 And the frightened leaves are leaving us fast, 
 
 If they stayed it would be high trees-on. 
 The sheep exposed to the rain and drift, 
 
 Are left to all sorts of wethers, 
 And the ragged young birds must make a shift 
 
 Until they can get new feathers. 
 
 In noting the chronicles of Time, we find 
 
 " The pale, descending year, yet pleasing still," 
 
 for although the sere and yellow leaf now greets us, where, a 
 short time since, all was verdant, and nature has doffed her gay 
 attire, yet is there great beauty even in the blanched and 
 frozen landscape, which dull spirits deem all dreary, desolate, 
 and dead. 
 
 * LongfeU ow.
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASON S. 227 
 
 " Come, bleak NOVEMBER, in thy wildness come : 
 Thy mornings clothed in rime, thy evenings chill ; 
 
 E en these have power to tempt me from my home, 
 E en these have beauty to delight me still. 
 
 Though Nature lingers in her mourning weeds, 
 
 And waila the dying year in gusty blast, 
 Still added beauty to the last proceeds, 
 
 And wildness triumphs when her bloom is past." 
 
 Nor is Shelley s Dirge less touchingly beautiful : 
 
 The warm sun is failing, the bleak wind is wailing. 
 The bare boughs are sighing, the pale flowers are dying, 
 
 And the year 
 
 On the earth, her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, 
 Is lying. 
 
 Come months, come away, 
 
 From November to May, 
 
 In your saddest array ; 
 
 Follow the bier 
 
 Of the dead, cold year, 
 And like dim chadows watch by her sepulchre. 
 
 The chill rain is falling, the nipt worm is crawling, 
 The rivers are swelling, the thunder is knelling 
 
 For the year ; 
 
 The blythe swallows are flown, and the lizards each gone 
 To his dwelling. 
 
 Come months, come away. 
 
 Put on white, black and grey, 
 
 Let your light sisters play 
 
 Ye follow the bier 
 
 Of the dead cold year. 
 And make her grave green with tear on tear. 
 
 The following beautiful passage, by Washington Irving, 
 might almost make a doleful day cheerful : 
 
 " And here let me say a word in favor of those vicissitudes 
 of our climate which are too often made the subjects of exclu 
 sive repining. If they annoy us occasionally by changes from
 
 228 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 hot to cold, from wet to dry, they give us one of the most 
 beautiful climates in the world. They give us the brilliant 
 sunshine of the south of Europe, with the fresh verdure of the 
 north. They float our summer sky with clouds of gorgeous tints 
 of fleecy whiteness, and send down cooling showers to refresh the 
 panting earth and keep it green. Our seasons are all poetical, 
 the phenomena of our heavens are full of sublimity and beauty. 
 Winter with us has none of its proverbial gloom. It may 
 have its howling v. ,nds, and whirling snow-storms ; but it has 
 also its long intervals of cloudless sunshine, when the snow-clad 
 earth gives redoubled brightness to the day ; when at night 
 the stars beam with iutensest lustre, or the moon floods the 
 whole landscape with her most limpid radiance ; and then the 
 joyous outbreak of spring, bursting at once into leaf and 
 blossom, redundant with vegetation, and vociferous with life ! 
 and the splendors of our summer its morning voluptuousness 
 and evening glory its airy palaces of the sun-gilt clouds piled 
 up in a deep azure sky ; and its gusts of tempest of almost 
 tropical grandeur, when the forked lightning and the bellowing 
 thunder volley from the battlements of heaven, and shake the 
 sultry atmosphere and the sublime melancholy of our autumn, 
 magnificent in its decay, withering down the pomp and pride 
 of a woodland country, yet reflecting back from its yellow 
 forests the golden serenity of the sky, surely we may see in our 
 climate the heavens declare the glory of God, and the firma 
 ment showeth forth his handiwork ; day unto day uttereth 
 speech ; and night unto night showeth knowledge. " 
 
 NOVEMBER is the next month we reach : its name being 
 derived from novem nine. 
 
 The last of the autumnal signs was Sagitarius because 
 when the sun passed it, the trees were nearly divested of their 
 foliage, which the ancients considered as indicative of the 
 season for hunting, and hence they represented the constellation 
 under the figure of an archer, with bow and arrows. The 
 Saxons named it wint-monatk (wind month). All-Souls day,
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 229 
 
 occurs on the second of this month consecrated to the 
 memory of those saintly personages of yore, to the invocation 
 of whom, the church had not assigned any particular date. 
 The closing day of November is St. Andrew s : St. Cecilia 
 has also conferred a ghostly honor on this mouth, as well as 
 upon music. 
 
 We close our notice of this notable month with a brief but 
 elegant passage from the pen of that sunny and healthful 
 writer, Leigh Hunt. " November," he says, " with its loss of 
 verdure, its frequent rains, the fall of the leaf, and the visible 
 approach of winter, is undoubtedly a gloomy month to the 
 gloomy, but to others it brings but pensiveness a feeling very 
 far from being destitute of pleasure ; and if the healthiest and 
 most imaginative of us may feel their spirits pulled down by 
 reflections connected with earth, its mortalities and its mis 
 takes, we shall but strengthen ourselves the more to make 
 strong and sweet music with the changeful but harmonious 
 movements of nature." 
 
 The Comic Almanac intimates that among the comforts of 
 winter you will find : 
 
 Chilblains sore on all your toes, 
 Icicles hung from your nose, 
 Rheumatis in all your limbs, 
 Noddle full of aches and whims, 
 Chaps upon your hands and lips, 
 And lumbago in your hips, 
 To your bed you shiv ring creep, 
 There to freeze, but not to sleep, 
 For the sheets that look so nice, 
 Are to you two sheets of ice. 
 
 This is considered an ominious time for suicides in London 
 and Paris victims to this cowardly vice being generally more 
 numerous in this month than any other. It is the pioneer of 
 winter ; it is synonymous with a negation to all the pleasurable 
 aspects of the preceding three months. Hood indicates its
 
 230 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 characteristics in some ingenious lines each of which com 
 mences with lisping the first syllable, and after a protracted 
 effort spells it outright. 
 
 " No Sun no Moon ! 
 
 No morn no noon 
 No dawn no dusk no proper time of day 
 
 No sky no earthly view 
 
 No distance looking blue 
 No roads no streets no tother side the way ; 
 
 No end to any row ; 
 
 No indication where the crescents go ; 
 
 No tops to any steeple ; 
 No recognition of familiar people ; 
 
 No courtesies for shewing em ; 
 
 No knowing em ; 
 
 No travellers at all ; no locomotion ; 
 No inkling of the way no motion ; 
 
 No go by land or ocean ; 
 
 No mud ; no post ; 
 
 No news from any foreign coast ; 
 No park ; no ring ; no afternoon gentility ; 
 
 No company ; no nobility ; 
 No warmth ; no cheerfulness ; no healthful ease ; 
 
 No comfortable feel in any member ; 
 No shade ; no shine ; no butterflies ; no bees 5 
 No fruits ; no flowers ; no leaves ; no birds ; 
 
 NO-VEMBER!" 
 
 We now hail the approach of dark DECEMBER, 
 Last of the months severest of them all. 
 
 The first of the winter signs was called Capricornus, from the 
 goat, which delights in climbing up high, craggy places, and 
 hence is an emblem of the winter solstice. This constellation is 
 sometimes called the "southern gate of the sun," for when he 
 enters this sign, Sol begins to ascend higher in the zodiac. This 
 month being formerly reckoned the tenth, was called December,
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 231 
 
 from Decem ten. The Saxons named it Winter-monath 
 (winter-month). 
 
 We have watched the progress of the year, from its birth to its 
 decline the dreary season of its old age the edge o f its grave. 
 We have watched the procession of the sister months, and in 
 their course, the successive seasons the bright, brilliant, and 
 evanescent glories of the joyous, jubilant spring, the gorgeous 
 sunsets of the sultry summer, the rich exuberance of fruit-bearing 
 autumn ; and now we are fairly in companionship with the frigid 
 winter, with its brief days and its prolonged nights. We are 
 reminded here of a very literal reason a simple-hearted youth once 
 rendered, in reply to the inquiry as to the cause of the length 
 of days in summer, and their brevity in winter : said he, " It is 
 the nature of heat to expand, and of cold to contract." 
 
 Punch thus refers to the frozen desolation of winter : 
 
 There is a stoppage in the currency 
 
 Of all the streams, which cannot liquidate 
 
 Their tribute to the sea. The frozen soil, 
 
 Hard up, no more repays the husbandman. 
 
 Each object, crusted o er with rime and snow 
 
 Seems white-washed. Of ;!n ir furniture the trees 
 
 Are stripped; and everywhere distringas reign. 
 
 On one vast picture of insolvency 
 
 We gaze around; and did we not repose 
 
 In mother earth s resources confidence, 
 
 Should see no prospect of a dividend 
 
 Of sixpence in the pound ! 
 
 November and December are called the embers of the dying 
 year. 
 
 The famous festival of St. Nicholas "the boy-bishop," and 
 the tutelar saint of childhood is celebrated on the sixth. 
 Dreary, indeed, would this ice-clad month be, were it not for the 
 glowing associations of its merry Christmas, with its holly and 
 mistletoe, and the gladsome gatherings and rejoicings of social
 
 232 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 life. What bright visions of joyous faces, well-spread tables, 
 and happy firesides, does it kindle up in the memory ; and 
 with what glowing and grateful contrast does the dreary deso 
 lation without invest the radiant and jubilant scenes of the 
 domestic hearth. The hearty and generous hospitality which 
 characterizes Christmas celebrations with the old, orthodox 
 accessories of that delicious conglomerate of all good tilings 
 plum-pudding, and its accompaniment, the glorious sirloin 
 are enough to tempt the veriest anchorite to participate in the 
 epicurean delights ; for surely the palate that could not appre 
 ciate, nay, luxuriate over such dainty and delectable dishes, must 
 have become sadly perverted and depraved. 
 
 This month at last Time s annual circle fills, 
 But empties pockets with its Christmas bills : 
 The prickly holly every place adorns, 
 Showing that Christmas pleasures have their thorns. 
 
 The term Christmas is derived from the Latin Church it is 
 properly Christi Massa (the Mass of Christ). 
 
 In former times, the celebration of Christmas began in the 
 latter part of the previous day Christmas Eve. The house 
 was first decked with holly, ivy, and other evergreens. Candles 
 of an uncommon size were then lighted under the name of Christ 
 mas candles ; an enormous log, called the Yule log, or Christ 
 mas block, was laid upon the fire, while the people sat round, 
 regaling themselves with beer. In the course of the night small 
 parties went about from house to house, singing what were 
 called Christmas Carols simple, popular ditties, full of joyful 
 allusions to the Redeemer. A mass was commenced in the 
 churches at midnight, a custom still kept np in the Catholic 
 countries. 
 
 These carols were more generally sung in the morning of 
 Christmas day. A contributor to the " Gentleman s Maga 
 zine" in 1811, describing the manner in which Christmas was
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 233 
 
 spent in Yorkshire, says: "About six o clock on Christmas 
 day, I was awakened by a sweet singing under my window ; 
 surprised at a visit so early and unexpected, I arose, and 
 looking out of the window, I beheld six young women and 
 four men welcoming with sweet music the blessed morn." It 
 may scarcely be imagined how delightfully at such a moment 
 upon the half-slumbering ear such strains as the following 
 would fall : 
 
 God rest you, merry gentlemen, 
 
 Let nothing you dismay, 
 For Jesus Christ our Saviour 
 
 Was born upon this day, 
 To save us all from Satan s power, 
 When we were gone astray. 
 Ob, tidings of comfort and joy, 
 For Jesus Christ our Saviour 
 Was born on Christmas Day. 
 
 Christmas carols are among the oldest of English songs. 
 Sir WALTER SCOTT gives us the following picture of an old time 
 Christmas : 
 
 And well our Christian sires of old 
 
 Loved, when the year its course had roll d, 
 
 And brought blithe Christmas back again, 
 
 With all its hospitable train. 
 
 Domestic and religious rite 
 
 Gave honor to the holy night; 
 
 On Christmas Eve the" bells were rung, 
 
 On Christmas Eve the mas. was sung ; 
 
 That only night, in all the year, 
 
 Saw the stoled priest the chalice wear, 
 
 The damsel donned her kirtle sheen, 
 
 The hall was dress d with holly green. 
 
 Forth to the wood did merry men go, 
 
 To gather in the mistletoe. 
 
 Then open wide the baron s hall, 
 
 To vassal, tenant, serf, and all.
 
 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Christmas has long since passed into a synonyme for festi 
 vity. In olden times, the boar s head, ornamented with 
 rosemary, was carried to table, upon a silver platter, with 
 great ceremony. Holinshed states that, in the year 1170, on 
 the day of the young prince s coronation King Henry II. 
 " served his son at the table as server, bringing up the boar s 
 head with trumpets before it, according to the manner, or 
 general custom of the times." With Christmas commenced the 
 season of mumming, and the reign of the " Lord of Misrule," or 
 " Abbot of Unreason," as he was called in Scotland, and which 
 Scott describes in The Abbot. These pleasantries, which were 
 carried frequently to great excess, were the remains of the 
 ancient saturnalia, which existed before the introduction of 
 Christianity. The decoration of churches with evergreens, 
 is a pleasing relic of these old times. These old customs, which 
 seem dying away like distant music, find but a faint echo in 
 our modern matter-of-fact days ; yet it is pleasant to catch a 
 glimpse of our jovial forefathers, as they were accustomed to 
 regale themselves at this merry-making season. A very plea 
 sant book has chronicled their story,* and we commend its peru 
 sal to all those who have any fancy for such items as the 
 sirloin, the plum-pudding, and good old sack. Twelfth-day 
 the anniversary of the adoration of the magi occurs on the 
 twelfth day after Christmas. Many curious customs are asso 
 ciated with its celebration in Great Britain and on the Con 
 tinent. 
 
 Thus, in parts of Ireland, at night, they used to set a sieve 
 of oats as high as they could, and place around it twelve 
 lighted candles, with a larger one, also lighted, in the centre. 
 This, of course, was to typify Christ and his twelve apostles as 
 lights unto the world ; and in Gloucestershire they do it by 
 building twelve small and one large fire in the fields. In 
 Staffordshire, however, the custom differs, for there, on the 
 
 * Hervey s work on Christmas.
 
 THE CTCLE OF THE SEASONS. 235 
 
 evening before, they light a large fire to commemorate the 
 guiding-star which led the three magi to Bethlehem. 
 
 lu many European countries the rulers did, and in some still 
 do, present the gifts, brought by the wise men, at the altar of 
 their chapel on the 6th of January. Tims we find in the 
 Gentleman 1 s Magazine for 1759, in the record for January : 
 Being Twelfth-day, his majesty went to the Chapel Royal, 
 with the usual solemnity, and offered gold, myrrh, and 
 frankincense, in three purses, at the altar, according to ancient 
 custom." 
 
 In some parts of England there exists a practice among the 
 farmers of going under the apple-trees on Twelfth-eve or night, 
 and singing various couplets. This practice is known as 
 " apple-howling," and it is supposed that without it the apples 
 will not grow well during the year. 
 
 " Dread Winter spreads his latest gloom, 
 And reigns tremendous o er the conquer d year ; 
 How dead the vegetable kingdom lies! 
 How dumb the tuneful ! Horror wide extends 
 His desolate domain. Behold, fond man! 
 See here thy pictured life ! Pass some few years 
 Thy flowYmg spring, thy summer s ardent strength, 
 And sober autumn, fading into age ; 
 The pale, concluding winter comes at last, 
 And shuts the scene." 
 
 Our closing pages shall be homiletic, since Young admon 
 ishes us that 
 
 "We take no note of Time, 
 But from its loss ; to give it then a tongue 
 Is wise in man/ 
 
 Time is the universal talent, subjecting every man living to a 
 charge and an account. Within its circles all our other 
 talents turn. They are the wheels within this great wheel,
 
 236 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 whose united movement causes it to revolve, for, as they are 
 duly exercised, Time is successfully employed. It is Uie entail 
 of humanity, come down to us as our inalienable heritage ; and, 
 as in the law of primogeniture, unencumbered with one father s 
 debts. May we prove such wise occupants and inheritors of 
 this invaluable property, that, whatever may be the passing 
 anxieties of its tenure, we may realize its profits hereafter. 
 
 " Tis not for man to trifle ! Life is brief, 
 
 And sin is here. 
 Our age is but the falling of a leaf, 
 
 A dropping tear. 
 
 We have no time to sport away the hours ; 
 All must be earnest iu a world like ours. 
 
 "|Not many lives, but only one have we ; 
 
 One, only one 
 How sacred should that one life ever be 
 
 That narrow span ! 
 
 Day after day filled up with blessed toil, 
 Hour after hour still bringing in new spoil." 
 
 As in money, so in time, we arc to look chiefly to the 
 smallest portions. Take care of the minutes and the hours, 
 and years will take care of themselves. Gold is not found, 
 for the most part, in great masses, but in little grains. It 
 is sifted out of the sand in minute particles, which, melted 
 together, produce the rich ingots that excite the world s cupid 
 ity. So the small moments of time, its odds and ends, put 
 together, may form a great and beautiful work. 
 
 "Catch the seconds as they re passing, 
 
 Wait not for the hours: 
 Prize them as a golden treasure 
 Use them not in trifling pleasure 
 Seconds, minutes prizing, holding 
 As you would sweet buds unfolding 
 Into choicest flowers."
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASON 
 
 Hale wrote his contemplations while on his law circuits. Dr. 
 Mason Good translated Lucretius" in his carriage, while, as 
 a physician, he rode from door to door. One of the chan 
 cellors of France penned a bulky volume in the successive 
 intervals of daily waiting for dinner. Kirk White studied 
 Greek as he was going to and from a lawyer s office. Burney 
 learned French and Italian while riding on horseback. Frank 
 lin laid the foundations of his wonderful stock of knowledge 
 in. his dinner-hours and evenings, while working as a printer s 
 boy. 
 
 " A day has perished from our brief calendar of days ; and 
 that we could endure ; but this day is no more than the reite 
 ration of many other days, days counted by thousands, that 
 have perished to the same extent and by the same unhappy 
 means, viz., the evil usages of the world made effectual and 
 ratified by our own lachete. Bitter is the upbraiding which we 
 seem to hear from a secret monitor My friend, you make 
 very free with your days ; pray, ho\v many do you expect to 
 have ? What is your rental as regards the total harvest of 
 days which this life is likely to yield ? Let us consider. 
 Threescore years and ten produce a total number of 25,550 
 days ; to say nothing of some seventeen or eighteen more that 
 will be payable to you as a bonus on account of leap-years. 
 Now, out of this total, one-third must be deducted at a blow 
 for a single item, viz., sleep. Next, on account of illness, of 
 recreation, and the serious occupations spread over the surface 
 of life, it will be little enough to deduct another third. Recol 
 lect also that twenty years will have gone from the earlier 
 end of your life (viz., above seven thousand days) before you 
 can have attained any skill or system, or any definite purpose 
 in the distribution of your time. Lastly, for that single item 
 which, amongst the Roman armies, was indicated by the tech 
 nical phrase "corpus curare," tendance on the animal necessi 
 ties, viz., eating, drinking, washing, bathing, and exercise,
 
 238 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 deduct the smallest allowance consistent with propriety, and, 
 upon summing up all these appropriations, you will not find so 
 much as four thousand days left disposable for direct intel 
 lectual culture. Four thousand, or forty hundreds, will be a 
 hundred forties that is, according to the lax Hebrew method 
 of indicating six weeks by the phrase of forty days, you will 
 have a hundred bills or drafts on Father Time, value six weeks 
 each, as the whole period available for intellectual labor. A 
 solid block of about eleven and a half continuous years is all 
 that a long life will furnish for the development of what is most 
 august in man s nature."* 
 
 Here are we compelled to stay the pen ; for as we have 
 completed our circuit of the seasons, and briefly recounted the 
 characteristics of the calendar nothing further remains to us, 
 but to wind up anew the " annual clock of Time." 
 
 And while we bespeak for the reader a happy new year, we 
 are constrained to thank old father Time for the many pleasant 
 hours he has given us, and to forgive all the inflictions visited 
 in his illiberal designs against our personal comfort in blanch 
 ing the ruddy tints of youth, dimming the lustre of the eye, 
 or reducing the elasticity of the step. And, although he has 
 caused us to taste occasionally the bitterness of sorrow, yet 
 has he mingled many sweets in the chalice of life, which it 
 would be ungrateful to forget. 
 
 Moreover, Time has infused into us a little sage and cheer 
 ful philosophy, inspiring us with a " faith which looks on the 
 bright side of things. 
 
 Time brings a philosophic mind ; 
 
 Time takes more than be leaves behind ; 
 
 Time is a thief of joys ; 
 Time turns our golden locks to gray ; 
 Time draws a bill which all must pay ; 
 
 Time makes old men of boys. 
 
 * De Quiacey.
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 239 
 
 Time, with his scythe and hour-glass, stands 
 To reap the harvest of our lands, 
 
 To shorten prosperous days ; 
 Time eats the keenest steel to rust ; 
 Time crumbles monuments to dust ; 
 
 Time robs us of our praise. 
 
 Much fault is found with Father Time, 
 la books and speeches, prose and rhyme ; 
 
 But we will not upbraid. 
 For he has left our hearts as young 
 As when, long since, we laughed and sung 
 
 In sunlight and in shade.* 
 
 "We know what we are," said poor Ophelia, " but we know 
 not what we may be." Perhaps she would have spoken with 
 a nicer accuracy had she said, " we know what we have been." 
 Of our present state we can, strictly speaking, know nothing. 
 The act of meditation on ourselves, however quick and subtle, 
 must refer to the past, in which alone we can truly be said to 
 live. Even in the moment of intensest enjoyment, our pleasures 
 are multiplied by the quick-revolving images of thought ; we 
 feel the past and future in each fragment of the instant, as the 
 flavor of every drop of some delicious liquid is heightened and 
 prolonged on the lips. It is the past only which we really enjoy 
 as soon as we become sensible of duration. Each by-gone 
 instant of delight becomes rapidly present to us, and " bears a 
 glass which shows us many more." This is the great privilege 
 of a meditative being never properly to have any sense of the 
 present, but to feel the great realities as they pass away, cast 
 ing their delicate shadows on the future. 
 
 Talfourd has some excellent remarks on this subject : " The 
 ordinary language of moralists respecting time shows that we 
 really know nothing respecting it. They say that life is fleeting 
 and short ; why, humanly speaking, may they not as well 
 affirm that it is extended and lasting ? The words short and 
 
 * Park Benjamin.
 
 240 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 long have only meaning when used comparatively ; and to 
 what can we compare or liken this our human existence ? The 
 images of fragility thin vapors, delicate flowers, and shadows 
 cast from the most fleeting things which we employ as 
 emblems of its transitoriness, really serve to exhibit its dura 
 bility as great in comparison with their own. 
 
 Mere time, unpeopled with diversified emotions or circum 
 stances, is but one idea, and that idea is nothing more than 
 the remembrance of a listless sensation. A night of dull pain 
 and months of lingering weakness are, in the retrospect, nearly 
 the same thing. When our hands or our hearts are busy, we 
 know nothing of time it does not exist for us ; but as soon 
 as we pause to meditate on that which is gone, we seem to have 
 lived long, because we look back through a long series of events, 
 or feel them at once peering one above the other like ranges of 
 distant hills. Actions or feelings, not hours, mark all the 
 backward course of our being. Our sense of the nearness to 
 us of any circumstance in our life is determined on the same 
 principles not by the revolutions of the seasons, but by the 
 relation which the event bears in importance to all that has 
 happened to us since. To him who has thought, or done, or 
 suffered much, the level days of his childhood seem at an 
 immeasurable distance, far off as the age of chivalry, or as 
 the line of Sesostris. There are some recollections of such 
 overpowering vastness, that their objects seem ever near ; their 
 size reduces all intermediate events to nothing ; and they peer 
 upon us like " a forked mountain, or blue promontory," which, 
 being far off, is yet nigh. How different from these appears 
 some inconsiderable occurrence of more recent date, which a 
 flash of thought redeems for a moment from long oblivion ; 
 which is seen amidst the dim confusion of half-forgotten things, 
 like a little rock lighted up by a chance gleam of sunshine afar 
 in the mighty waters ! 
 
 What immense difference is there, then, in the real duration 
 of men s lives ! He lives longest of all who looks back oftenest,
 
 THE CYCLE OF THE SEASONS. 241 
 
 whose life is most populous of thought or action, and on every 
 retrospect makes the vastest picture. The man who does not 
 meditate has no real consciousness of being. Such an one 
 goes to death as to a drunken sleep ; he parts with existence 
 wantonly, because he knows nothing of its value. 
 
 Hazlitt observes in his " Table Talk :" 
 
 " The length or agreeableness of a journey does not depend on 
 the few last steps of it, nor is the size of a building to be judged 
 of from the last stone that is added to it. It is neither the first 
 nor the last hour of our existence, but the space that parts 
 these two nor our exit, nor our entrance upon the stage, but 
 what we do, feel, and think while there that we are to attend 
 to in pronouncing sentence upon it. Indeed, it would be easy 
 to show that it is the very extent of human life, the infinite 
 number of things contained in it, its contradictory and fluctua 
 ting interests, the transition from one situation to another, the 
 hours, months, years, spent in one fond pursuit after another ; 
 that it is, in a word, the length of our common journey, and the 
 quantity of events crowded into it, that, baffling the grasp of 
 our actual perception, make it slide from our memory, and 
 dwindle into nothing in its own perspective. It is too mighty 
 for us, and we say it is nothing ! It is a speck in our fancy, 
 and yet what canvass would be big enough to hold its striking 
 groups, its endless objects ! It is light as vanity ; and yet, if 
 all its weary moments, if all its head and heart-aches were 
 compressed into one, what fortitude would not be overwhelmed 
 with the blow ! What a huge heap, a huge dumb heap, of 
 wishes, thoughts, feelings, anxious cares, soothing hopes, loves, 
 joys, friendships, it is composed of ! " 
 
 With what accelerated speed the years 
 
 Seem to flit by us, sowing hopes and fears 
 As they pursue their never-ceasing march ! 
 But is our wisdom equal to the speed 
 
 Which brings us nearer to the shadowy bourn 
 
 Whence we must never, never more return ? 
 11
 
 242 SALAD * O R THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Alas! the wish is wiser than the deed ! 
 
 " We take no note of time but from its loss," 
 
 Sang one who reasoned solemnly and well. 
 And so it is ; we make that dowry dross 
 
 Which would be treasure, did we learn to quell 
 Vain dreams and passions. Wisdom s alchemy 
 
 Transmutes to priceless gold the moments as they fly,
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 
 
 " These are the spiders of society ; 
 They weave their petty webs of lies and sneers, 
 And lie themselves in ambush for the spoil, 
 The web seems fair and glitters in the sun, 
 And the poor victim winds him in the toil, 
 Before he dreams of danger, or of death." 
 
 L. u. L. 
 
 " Laws are like spiders webs, that will catch flies, but not wasps and hornets." 
 
 ANACHARSIS. 
 
 LAW is law and, as in such, and so forth, and hereby, and 
 aforesaid, provided always, nevertheless, notwithstanding. Law 
 is like a blistering plaster it is a great irritator and only to b 
 used in cases of great extremity. Law, again, is compared to 
 a country-dance; people are led up and down in it till they are 
 thoroughly tired. Law is like a book of surgery; there are a 
 great many terrible cases in it. It is also like physic; they 
 that take the least of it are best off. It is like a scolding wife; 
 very bad when it follows us. It is like bad weather; people 
 are glad when they get out of it. 
 
 Take, again, the following lucid definition of legal science : 
 
 243
 
 244 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 " Law always expresses itself with true grammatical precision, 
 never confounding moods, tenses, cases, or genders, except, 
 indeed, when a woman happens accidentally to be slain, then the 
 verdict brought in, is manslaughter. The essence of law is 
 altercation, for the law can altercate, fulminate, deprecate, 
 irritate, and go on at any rate. Xow the quintessence of the 
 law has, according to its name, five points the first is the 
 beginning or incipiendum, the second its uncertainty, or 
 dubitandum, the third delay, or puzzliendum, the fourth repli 
 cation without endum, and fifth monstrum et horrendum?* 
 
 " I hope," says the lawyer in Steele s comedy, " to see the 
 day when the indenture shall be the exact measure of the land 
 that passes by it ; for it is a discouragement to the gown that 
 every ignorant rogue of an heir should in a word or two under 
 stand his father s meaning, and hold ten acres of land by half 
 an acre of parchment. Let others think of logic, rhetoric, and 
 I know not what impertinence, but mind thou tautology. 
 "What s the first excellence in a lawyer ? tautology. What s 
 the second ? tautology. What s the third? tautology; as an 
 old pleader said of action."f 
 
 Another facetious writerj fortunately comes to our aid in 
 defining our mysterious subject. " Law," he affirms, " is like 
 fire; since those who meddle with it may chance to burn their 
 fingers. It is like a pocket with a hole in it ; and those who 
 risk their money therein are liable to lose it. It is a lancet ; 
 dangerous in the hands of the ignorant, doubtful even in the 
 hands of an adept. Law is like a sieve; you may see through 
 it but you will be considerably reduced before you get 
 through it. 
 
 It is to the litigant what the poulterer is to the goose ; it 
 plucks and it draws him ; but here the simile ends, for the 
 litigant, unlike the goose, never gets trust, although he may be 
 roasted and dished. 
 
 * Stevens lecture on Head. t Soutliey s Cammon-plac* book. 
 
 $ The author of the " Tin Trumpet."
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 245 
 
 It is like an ignis fatuus ; those who follow the delusive 
 guide too often find themselves inextricably involved in a bog. 
 
 It is like an eel-trap ; very easy to get into, but very diffi 
 cult to get out of. 
 
 It is like a razor: which requires " a strong back," keenness, 
 and an excellent temper. 
 
 N. B. Many of those who get once shaved seldom risk a 
 second operation. 
 
 It is like a flight of rockets ; there is a great expense of 
 powder, the cases are usually well "got up," the reports are 
 excellent, but after all, the sticks (the clients) are sure to 
 come to the ground." 
 
 Hay sets the matter to music in the following stanza: 
 
 Law is like longitude, about, 
 Never completely yet found out ; 
 
 Though practised notwithstanding. 
 Tis like the fatalist s strange creed, 
 Which justifies a wicked deed, 
 
 While sternly reprimanding ! 
 
 If a man would, according to law, give to another an orange, 
 instead of saying, "I give you that orange," which one would 
 think would be what is called in legal phraseology, "an absolute 
 conveyance of all right and title therein," the phrase would run 
 thus: "I give you, all and singular, my estate and interest, right, 
 title, and claim, and advantage of and in that orange, with all 
 its rind, skin, juice, pulps, and all right and advantages therein, 
 with full power to bite, cut, suck, or otherwise eat the same 
 orange, or give the same away, with or without all its rind, 
 skin, juice, pulp and pips, anything heretofore or hereinafter, or 
 in any other deed or deeds, instruments, of what nature or kind 
 soever, to the contrary in anywise notwithstanding;" and much 
 more to the same effect. Such is the language of lawyers ; and 
 it is gravely held by the most learned men among them, that by 
 the omission of any of those words the right to the same orange
 
 240 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 would not pass to the person for whose use the same was 
 intended. 
 
 Lord Brougham once facetiously defined a lawyer thus: "a 
 learned gentleman, who rescues your estate from your enemies, 
 and keeps it himself." 
 
 A wag, being left trustee under a will by which the testator 
 left a small freehold property to be sold for charitable purposes, 
 sold it, and discovered the trust to be illegal. As the sum was 
 too small in amount to bear a suit in equity (being not above 
 sixty pounds), he laughed very heartily at thy next of kin, 
 pocketed it himself, spent it. and died. 
 
 Human laws are designed mainly to protect absolute rights ; 
 the laws, or the lawyers, however, often interfere with what 
 seems absolutely right, till there is nothing absolutely left of the 
 original right and absolute wrong is of necessity the conse 
 quence. Those reputed allies equity and justice seem in these 
 boasted days of " progress," not only to have repudiated their 
 avowed relationship, but even to have well-nigh lost all kind of 
 respect for each other.* Cato, it is stated, pleaded four hundred 
 eases, and won them all. Charity would lead us to indulge the hope 
 ihat a sterner virtue existed in his day, at any rate to warrant the 
 adoption of the insignia of the well-balanced scales of the blind 
 goddess. It is with law as with physic the less we have to 
 do with it the better : still, so long as diseases and discord dis 
 turb the social fabric, pacification and pills seem to be indis 
 pensable, and we must, therefore, content ourselves witli what 
 ever the collective wisdom of ancient and modern sages has 
 prescribed as antidotes. Let us indulge the hope that the 
 
 *The difficulty of ascertaining the precise meaning of laic, led to the establishment of 
 a distinct branch of jurisprudence, called equity. Lord Chancellor Eldon, it will be 
 remembered, presided something like half a century over the highest institution of this 
 kind in England; so frequently, indeed, was his mighty mind poised on questions of 
 gravest import, that the utmost his excessive erudition, caution, and modesty would 
 permit him to arrive at, after months, and often years of patient investigation, was to 
 doubt. No master-mind of modern times, perhaps, was a more thorough doubter; and 
 yet who dares question his sagacious wit?
 
 THE HUMOUS OF LAW. 247 
 
 hitherto protracted process of Jaw, will, ere long, be divested 
 of its wilderness waste of words, and reduced dowu to the sim 
 ple elements of verity and common sense something analo 
 gous to the homoeopathic system of medicine. Justinian has 
 reduced tiie principles of law to three: first, that we should live 
 honestly; secondly, that we should hurt nobody; and thirdly, 
 that we should give to every one his due. These principles 
 have, however, long ago become obsolete in ordinary legal 
 practice. Natural law and artificial, possess, it would seem, 
 little in common ; the former indicates man s true happiness and 
 peace the latter too often proves the bane of both. It is said 
 that no human laws are of any validity if they are contrary to 
 those of nature ; but who will, for instance, venture to deny the 
 reality of the Poor-Laws. In this case, as in most others, the 
 law is more beneficial to its administrator the lawyer than the 
 party whose interests it is ostensibly designed to subserve. 
 
 Of justice, one of the heathen sages has shown, with great 
 acuteness, that it was impressed upon mankind only by the 
 inconveniences which injustice had produced. The passage 
 referred to is the following : " In the first ages, men acted 
 without any rule but the impulse of desire ; they practised 
 injustice upon others, and suffered it from others in return ; 
 but in time it was discovered that the pain of suffering wrong 
 was greater than the pleasure of doing it, and mankind, by a 
 general compact, submitted to the restraint of laws, and 
 resigned the pleasure to escape the pain." Whether to 
 expediency, the Decalogue, or an intuitive moral sense, we 
 trace its source, it cannot be denied that the abstract principle 
 of justice is essential to the hapiness of society. If law were 
 but the synonym of equity and justice, and its administrators, 
 without exception, men of inflexible integrity, would any one 
 be found to complain, as now, of the grievous pecuniary costs 
 and trouble attending its dispensation? 
 
 Law has been compared to a new boot a luxury which we 
 approach with undisguised reluctance, and quit with supreme
 
 248 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 delight a thing which transforms the ordinary calm and 
 placable man into a living torment to himself and all around 
 him. In more primitive times, our simple-hearted and trusting 
 grandsires seem to have settled their differences in a much 
 more summary mode than we are accustomed* to : possibly 
 because they possessed fewer of those learned expounders of 
 legal lore, whose province, at least in part, appears to be to 
 distort plain common sense and truth into all the tortuous 
 twists and sinuosities of which a lawyer s logic is susceptible. 
 Then, an "action at law" was a mere bagatelle; it is not so 
 now ; it forms an era in a man s history. Besides, men in 
 those days were more placable, and soon forgot their squabbles 
 and animosities ; now, they are not allowed to do so ; it would 
 be a direct fraud and infringement upon the rights of the legal 
 subject. 
 
 The scene presented at a court of justice (i. e. law) is one of 
 strange interest. It is there human nature may be studied 
 with great effect. The passions of men are not only brought 
 iuto play they riot in dire confusion. The cupidity and cun 
 ning of counsel, the qualms and querulousness of the clients, 
 the stern immobility of the judge, the officiousness of the crier, 
 and the stolid indifference of those ominous individuals who are 
 to decide the fate of the contending parties, contrast broadly 
 with the vulgar curiosity evinced by the promiscuous crowd. 
 A suit at law is, beyond all controversy, a most uncomfortable 
 one it unfits a man for everything else ; it disturbs his peace, 
 wastes his money, and too often ruins his reputation. The 
 very term suit at law, is, by the way, a misnomer; for it 
 frequently strips a man of all he has, for he seldom gets any 
 re-dress. In fact, the infelicities of an action at law are too 
 numerous for detail, but we need not make the attempt, since 
 some wag has furnished the following : " A law-suit/ he 
 insists, " isJike an ill-managed dispute, in which the first object 
 is lost sight of, and the parties end upon a matter wholly 
 irrelevant to that on which they began. It is an ingeniously
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 249 
 
 contrived web, whose meshes are spread out for the ensnaring 
 of the unwary a maze of inextricable perplexities designed to 
 deprive the artless of their freedom, whom it decoys by its 
 plausible pretences." Gay is somewhat sportive with the legal 
 profession, in the well-known lines : 
 
 " I know you lawyers can with ease, 
 Twist words and meanings as you please ; 
 That language, by your skill made pliant. 
 Will bend to favor every client ; 
 That tis the fee directs the sense, 
 To make out either side s pretence 
 When you peruse the clearest case, 
 You see it with a double face : 
 For scepticism s your profession. 
 You hold there s doubt in all expression." 
 
 Equity is one of our natural wants, but it is not very easy 
 to be obtained, owing to the moral obliquity so prevalent 
 among men ; the institution of law has come to be regarded as 
 its substitute. If it were its true equivalent we should have 
 nothing to complain of. Yet law is regarded by many as a 
 necessary evil ; and a certain writer* likens it to " war, pesti 
 lence, and famine, or lunatic asylums, poor-houses, and peni 
 tentiaries, or apothecaries -shops, with their adulterous abomi 
 nations, and every other substitute for, and abridgment of, 
 human liberty, human happiness, and health." If even law 
 were proved to be a positive good, we have so much of it that 
 it has come to be a positive evil. Added to its countless 
 statute-books, its codes, civil, common, and canon, we have 
 such voluminous commentaries as no mortal man can compre 
 hend or even read. This prodigality of law has proved the 
 occasion of an equally prolific race of lawyers, scarcely any two 
 of whom interpret law alike. 
 
 In large communities there must necessarily exist a need for 
 
 * John NeaU 
 
 11*
 
 250 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 men who shall be empowered to arbitrate between contending 
 parties ; and it is unreasonable to expect, where so many con 
 flicting interests exist, there shall not be found frequent occa 
 sion for the exercise of the prerogative. Yet that is no reason 
 Vvhy good, well-meaning people, who may occasionally come 
 into collision with each other, and whose conscientious scruples 
 induce them to appeal to an accredited authority for the settle 
 ment of their disputations, should become the victims of merci 
 less harpies, who, under pretext of defending the right, seek to 
 serve their own, rather thau their clients interests. 
 
 " So law is wrested from her righteous ends, 
 And forced to serve the rogue it should convict ; 
 Justice her weight to the wrong balance lends, 
 And her decrees with her own self conflict ! 
 But, cheated by the solemn scales and hood, 
 The multitude applaud, and call it Good." 
 
 The fault, in some instances, rests more with the client than 
 the counsel : the judicial reports exhibit many such absurdi 
 ties. In the Chancery Court of England, the case of Xarty 
 vs. Duncan occurred, in which suit actually two thousand 
 pounds sterling were expended in determining which party was 
 liable to paint a board and whitewash a sign ! 
 
 Law itself, when in accordance with justice and equity, is, of 
 course, unimpeachable. It is of its mal-administratiou we 
 complain. 
 
 The ancients, as proof of their reverence for law and justice, 
 represented their goddess, Themis, as the daughter of Heaven 
 and Earth of Heaven, as typical of her purity and holiness of 
 Earth, as representing her abode and sphere of action. To 
 denote her strength, she was of Titanic origin ; as an appreciation 
 of her consequence, she was placed l>y the side of Jupiter, the 
 father of gods and men. This respect was awarded to abstract 
 justice, even when men suffered under the bloody code of Draco 
 when they did not enjoy the more perfect system of the pre-
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 251 
 
 sent day. Well may we shout hosannahs and sing anthems, 
 when we remember that the laws of Draco, the Pandects of 
 Justinian, and the Decretals of Gregory, are now among the 
 things that were, and that now we live in an age when men 
 know and realize what are their rights and what is the spirit 
 and genius of law. "The lawyer," said Burke, "has his 
 forms and his positive institutions, and he adheres to them with 
 a veneration altogether as religious as the divine. The worst 
 cause cannot be so prejudicial to the litigant as his attorney s 
 ignorance of forms. A good parson once said, where mystery 
 begins, there religion ends. May not the same be said of jus 
 tice that where the mystery of forms begins there all justice 
 ends ?" There is, it must be conceded, but too much justice 
 in the sarcasm. 
 
 The study of law has a sad tendency to pervert the intel 
 lect and destroy the capability of distinguishing betweeu 
 right and wrong. Lawyers do not try a question upon its 
 merits, but by legal precedent. 
 
 Bishop Hooker, speaking of Law, says : " no less can be 
 acknowledged than that her seat is the bosom of God, and her 
 voice, the harmony of the universe. All things in heaven and 
 earth do her homage : the humblest feeling her influence, and 
 the greatest not exempted from her power. Angels and crea 
 tures of all conditions, with uniform consent, unite in admiring 
 her as the mother of peace and joy." 
 
 Man needs nothing more than a knowledge of justice and a 
 due regard for it, to secure happiness. Blackstone holds 
 the sentiment that the laws of eternal justice are so inter 
 woven in the web of individual happiness that the latter cannot 
 be obtained without observing the former ; and if the former 
 be punctually obeyed it cannot but induce the latter. 
 
 The truthfulness of the sentiment is strikingly in accord 
 ance with the experience of the good and just, and is worthy 
 of the learning and integrity of that great authority. 
 
 In early times, chancellors arid judges combined the dis-
 
 2o 2 S A L A _D FOR T H K SOCIAL. 
 
 pensation of the Gospel with that of the law. In Campbell s 
 Lives of the Judges, we learn that among those clerical chan 
 cellors, there occurs but one who did not ultimately reach the 
 mitre. This was John Maunsel (A.D. 1246), who, while hold 
 ing the Great Seal, became Provost of Beverley, his highest 
 Church preferment but not his only one. This personage, 
 according to Matthew Paris, held at once 700 livings. He 
 had, it is presumed, presented himself to all that fell vacant, 
 and were in the gift of the Crown, while he was chancellor. 
 
 Many noble names have reflected lustre upon the legal pro 
 fession, such as More, Bacon, Blackstone, Sir William Jones, 
 Burleigh, Lord MansGeld, Brougham, Chitty, Coke, Philips, 
 Starkie, Sugdeu, Stephens, "Webster, Story, Kent, Wirt, Le- 
 gare, &c. 
 
 A curious writer thus accounts for the history of the tutelar 
 saint of this distinguished profession : 
 
 " Evona, a lawyer of Brittany, went to Rome to entreat the 
 Pope to give the lawyers a patron saint. The Pope replied that 
 he knew of no saint not already disposed of to some other 
 profession. His Holiness, however, proposed that he should 
 go round the church of Giovanni di Letirano blindfolded, and, 
 after saying a number of Ave Marias, the first saint he laid 
 hold of should be his patron. This the good old lawyer under 
 took ; and at the end of his Ave Marias, stopped at the altar 
 of St. Michael, where lie laid hold of, not the saint, but, 
 unfortunately, the devil under the saint s feet, crying out, This 
 is our saint, let him be our patron. 
 
 Having established the origin of the genius or guardian 
 spirit of this erudite profession, let us now exhibit some of the 
 protean shapes and various designations under which it is recog 
 nized amongst us. Common law seems to be the basis of all ; it 
 has more of common sense in its composition than its counter 
 part, civil law, which may be said, on most occasions, to treat 
 all who appeal to its sympathies most uncivilly. 
 
 The term common law is used in two distinct senses : in its
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 253 
 
 legitimate and legal signification it denotes old, unwritten law 
 sanctioned by custom and precedent ; comprising, it has been 
 said, " all recognized doctrines and principles, however intro 
 duced, which are neither to be found in the statute book, nor 
 depend on the adjudication of courts of equity : in its con 
 ventional and popular sense, it is used to distinguish it from 
 ecclesiastical polity and equity, and thus it comprises all the 
 systems of adjudication, both criminal and civil, administered 
 in courts having trial by jury. In brief, law is subdivided into 
 the following classifications : common and civil law, municipal, 
 constitutional, parliamentary, ecclesiastical, maritime and mili 
 tary. In England there is the Court of Queen s Bench, 
 and both there and in the United States, there are the Supe 
 rior Court, Chancery, Common Pleas, Court of Appeals, 
 and the Supreme Court, Courts of Errors and Equity, and the 
 Ecclesiastical Court. 
 
 Jeremy Bentham, in answer to the question, What is this 
 boasted English law ? thus sarcastically replies : " The sub 
 stantive part of it, whether as written in books or expounded 
 by judges, is a chaos, fathomless and boundless ; the huge 
 and monstrous mass being made up of fiction, tautology, 
 technicality, circuity, irregularity, and inconsistency. The 
 administrative part of it is a system of exquisitely contrived 
 chicanery ; a system made up of abuses ; a system which con 
 stantly places the interest of the judicial minister in opposition 
 to his duty so places his interest in opposition to his duty, 
 that, in the very proportion in which it serves his ends, it 
 defeats the end of justice. A system of self-authorized and 
 unpunishable depredation a system which encourages men 
 dacity, both by reward and punishment a system which puts 
 fresh arms into the hands of the injurer, to annoy and distress 
 the injured." 
 
 Most law-suits are a juggle, whose sole object seems to be 
 the plunder of both plaintiff and defendant by the prolonga 
 tion of their quarrel. "Strange," says old Fuller, "that
 
 254 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 reason continuing always the same, law, grounded there 
 on, should be capable of so great alteration." It is not 
 grounded upon reason, but upon the artifices of pettifoggers, 
 and therefore its perversions and metamorphoses are infinite. 
 In Republics, corruplissima plurima leges. When Justinian 
 compiled his Institutes, the writings on the civil law alone 
 amounted to many camel-loads; ours may be reckoned by ship 
 loads, and the money annually expended upon law and lawyers 
 (not upon justice) may be counted by millions."* 
 
 During Lord Eldon s chancellorship, such was his high sense 
 of rectitude, that he is said to have retained counsel, in some 
 instances, five, ten, and even twenty years (according to the 
 capacity of the purse of the parties concerned), rather than 
 venture a rash judgment in some equity cases. The longest 
 suit on record, in England, is that of the heirs of Sir Thomas 
 Talbot and the heirs of Lord Berkeley, respecting some pro 
 perty in the county of Gloucester. It began at the close of 
 the reign of Edward IV., and was depending until the begin 
 ning of that of James I.-, when it was finally compounded 
 being a period of not less than one hundred and twenty 
 years ! In the United States there was a case recently 
 determined, which had been pending three years, before the 
 courts in Wyoming county, New York. It was a suit to 
 recover $25, the amount of a note given : the verdict was 
 ultimately rendered for the plaintiff in amount claimed, with 
 the modest item of costs of $800 ! 
 
 Lord Brougham, in his celebrated speech on law reform, 
 when he had not the hope of the chancellorship, or the fear of 
 fickle fortune before his eyes, described the law as intended to 
 be " the staff of honesty and the shield of innocence ;" but he 
 added, that it actually is a two-edged sword of craft and 
 oppression." JEsop has a fable to the effect that a swallow 
 built her nest under the eaves of a court of justice. Before 
 her young brood could fly, a serpent glided out of his hole aud 
 devoured them up. 
 
 * Tin Trumpet.
 
 THE HUMORS OF L A "W . 255 
 
 The lawyer has frequent opportunities for indulging eccen 
 tricity and humor. We offer a specimen or two : 
 
 Counsellor Lamb, an old man when Lord Erskine was at 
 the height of his reputation, was a man of timid manners and 
 nervous temperament ; and usually prefaced his plea with an 
 apology to that effect. Ou one occasion, when opposed to 
 Erskine, he happened to remark that he felt himself grow 
 ing more and more timid as he grew older. "No won 
 der," replied the witty, but relentless barrister, "every one 
 knows that the older a lamb grows, the more sheepish he 
 becomes." 
 
 Sergeant Prime on a certain occasion, when the weather 
 was intensely hot, and the court densely crowded, the case 
 being one of more than ordinary interest made a speech 
 of three hours duration, whose soporific influence, aided by the 
 oppressive atmosphere of the court, caused a boy, who had 
 seated himself on a transverse beam over the heads of the 
 spectators, to fall, not only asleep, but also on the people 
 below. His own injuries were unimportant, but several indivi 
 duals in court were seriously hurt : and as the blame was laid 
 upon the prosy counsel s long yarn, he was tried at the circuit 
 table, found guilty, and sentenced to pay a fine of three dozen 
 of wine, which he did without wincing or complaining. As an 
 instance of noble independence of character, we might refer to 
 the incident recorded of the celebrated Lord Chancellor 
 Thurlow. As Speaker of the House of Peers, he was distin 
 guished for the dignity with which he enforced the rules of 
 debate. Upon one occasion he called the Duke of Grafton to 
 order, who, incensed at the interruption, insolently reproached 
 the chanc- llor with his plebeian origin, and recent admission 
 into the peerage. Previous to this time, Thurlow had spoken 
 so frequently that he was listened to by the House with 
 evident impatience. When the duke had concluded his speech, 
 his lordship arose from the woolsack, and advanced slowly to 
 the place from whence the chancellor generally addresses the
 
 256 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 assembled peers ; then fixing upon the duke the look one may 
 suppose Jove to have assumed as he grasped the thunder " I 
 am amazed," he said, "at the attack which the noble lord has 
 made upon me; yes, my lords, I repeat, I am amazed at his 
 grace s speech," his voice and manner still increasing iu 
 earnestness ;-" the duke cannot look before him, behind him, 
 or on either side of him, without seeing some noble peer who 
 owes his seat in this House to his successful exertions in the 
 profession to which I belong. Does he not feel that it is as 
 honorable to owe it to these, as to being the accident of an 
 accident ? To all these noble lords, the language of the noble 
 duke is as applicable and as insulting as it is to myself ; but 
 I do not fear to meet it singly and alone. Xo one venerates 
 the peerage more than I do ; but, my lords, I must say the 
 peerage solicited me, not I the peerage. Nay more, I can say, 
 and will say, that, as a peer of Parliament, as Speaker of this 
 right honorable House, as keeper of the Great Seal, as guar 
 dian of his majesty s conscience, as Lord High Chancellor of 
 England, nay, even in that character alone in which his grace 
 would think it an affront to be considered, but which none can 
 deny me as a man I am at this moment as respectable I 
 beg leave to add, I am at this moment as much respected us 
 the proudest peer I now look down upon." The effect of this 
 speech, both within and without the walls of Parliament, was 
 prodigious; it gave Lord Thurlow an ascendency in the House, 
 unsurpassed by any previous incumbent of the woolsack, and 
 has placed him iu a no less plausible aspect with the people of 
 all times and all political creeds. Not only was this worthy 
 representative of the high court of equity a most convivial ban 
 vivant, he was, also, in the popular acceptation of the term, a 
 wit. As brevity is said to be the soul of the article aforesaid, 
 we present the reader with the following small dose. Once at 
 table, Pitt was expatiating on the superiority of the Latin over 
 the English language, and cited as an instance, the fact that 
 two negatives made a thing more positive than one jimVmative
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 25*7 
 
 could do. " Then your father and mother !" exclaimed 
 Thurlow, in his usual gruff style, " must have been themselves 
 two negatives, to have introduced such a positive fellow as you 
 are." Thurlow, in law, has been regarded something in the 
 same light with Abernethy in physic; very rough, rude, and 
 even insolent a feature that tarnished his reputation, and 
 which ultimately was the cause of his being deprived of the 
 chancellorship. 
 
 The following characteristic notice of his lordship s irreligious 
 tendencies, and we take our leave of him. His brother, the 
 bishop of Durham, possessed but slender influence over him in 
 this respect, for, in seeking to vindicate his character before 
 some company on one occasion, he had to admit that his appeals 
 to the Divine Being were only audible when suffering from 
 acute twinges of that fashionable, but by-no-means-to-be- 
 coveted complaint, the gout ! 
 
 We have already referred to Chancellor Eldon, no less 
 renowned for his doubting propensity. Man-y were the squibs, 
 in prose and verse, of which this Fabius of Chancellors was the 
 subject. To one, by Sir George Rose, a happy retort was 
 made by his lordship, as seen in the subjoined extract : 
 
 "Sir George Rose, when at the bar, having the note-book 
 of the regular reporter of Lord Eldon s decisions put into 
 his hand, with a request that he would take a note for him 
 of any decision which should be given, entered in it the fol 
 lowing lines, as a full record of all that was material which 
 had occurred during the day : 
 
 Mr. Leach 
 Made a speech, 
 
 Angry, neat, but wrong ; 
 
 Mr. Hart, 
 
 On the other part, 
 
 Was heavy, dull, and long :
 
 258 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Mr. Parker 
 
 Made the case darker, 
 
 Which was dark enough without : 
 
 Mr. Cooke 
 Cited his hook, 
 
 And the Chancellor said I DOUBT/ 
 
 This jeu d esprit, flying about Westminster Hnll, at length 
 reached the Chancellor, who was much amused with it, not 
 withstanding its personal allusion. Soon after, Rose having 
 to argue before him a very untenable proposition, the chancel 
 lor gave his opinion very gravely, thus : for these reasons, 
 the judgment must be ag.iinst your clients ; and here, Mr. Rose, 
 the Chancellor DOES NOT DOUBT. " 
 
 Mr. Plunkett, while pleading one day, observing the hour to 
 be late, said it was his wish to proceed with the trial, if the 
 ury would set. " Sit, sir, 1 said the judge, correcting him, 
 "not set ; hens set." "I thank you, my lord," was the reply. 
 Shortly after, the judge had occasion to observe, " that if such 
 were the case, he feared the action would not lay." " Lie, my 
 lord," said the barrister, " not lay ; hens ///." 
 
 Lord Kenyon s classical acquirements are well known to have 
 been but slender. He was nevertheless exceedingly fond of 
 ornamenting his judgments with Latin quotations, which did 
 not always fall exactly into their right places. Upon one 
 occasion, he is said to have concluded his summing up in the 
 following manner : " Having thus discharged your consciences, 
 gentlemen of the jury, you may retire to your homes and your 
 hearths in peace ; and, with the delightful consciousness of 
 having well performed your duties as citizens, you may lay 
 down your heads upon your pillo\vs, and say, aut Casar ant 
 nullus /" Upon another occasion, his Lordship, wishing to 
 illustrate in a strong manner the conclusiveness of some fact, 
 thus addressed the jury : " Why, gentlemen of the jury, it is 
 as plain as the noses upon your faces ! Latet anguis in herbd f
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 259 
 
 To refrain from multiplying instances of the ludicrous in law 
 is, indeed, no easy matter ; since the recollection of the names, 
 even, of prominent members of the Irish bar are so suggestive 
 of fun. Who can think of Philpott, Shiel, Currau, aud Xor- 
 bury, without recollecting their jokes ? 
 
 Cnrran s versatile and ready wit has long been proverbial ; 
 like Lord Xorbury, his name has been classed among those of 
 Volfiire, Swift., and the humorists of their day. One or two 
 instances will suffice. 
 
 Mr. Curran was engaged in a legal argument; behind him 
 stood his colleague, a gentleman whose person was remark 
 ably tall and slender, and who had originally intended to take 
 orders. The judge observing that the case under discussion 
 involved a question of ecclesiastical law Then," said Curran, 
 " I can refer your lordship to a high authority behind me, 
 who was once intended for the church, though in my opinion 
 he was fitter for the steeple." 
 
 " No man," said a wealthy but weak-headed barrister, 
 " should be admitted to the bar, who has not an independent 
 landed property. " May I ask, sir," said Mr. Curran, " how 
 many acres make a wise-acre ?" " Could you not have known 
 this boy to be my son, from his resemblance to me ?" asked a 
 gentleman. Mr. Curran answered, " Yes, sir, the maker s 
 name is stamped upon the blade." Mr. Curran being asked, 
 " what an Irish gentleman, just arrived in England, could mean 
 by perpetually putting out his tongue?" answered, I suppose 
 he s trying to catch the English accent." 
 
 One of the eminent British lawyers was engaged, some 
 time since, to defend an Irishman, who had been charged 
 with theft. Assuming the prerogative of his position, the 
 counsel, in a private interview with his client, said to him, 
 " Now, Patrick, as I am to defend you, I want you to tell me 
 frankly whether you are guilty or not. Did you steal the 
 goods?" "Faith, then," said Pat, "I s pose I must tell yez. 
 In troth, I did stale em !" Then you ought to be ashamed
 
 260 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 of yourself, to come here and disgrace your country by steal 
 ing !" said the honest counsel. " In troth, sir, may-be I ought ; 
 but then, if I didn t stale, you wouldn t have the honor and 
 credit of getting me off !" 
 
 It will be remembered a curious instance occurred, of a 
 
 
 
 witness confounding a counsel, at Gloucester, England, some 
 years ago. The witness on being asked his name, gave it 
 Ottiwell Woodd. He pronounced it hurriedly several times, 
 as the learned counsel did not seem to catch it. " Spell it, sir, 
 if you please," he said, somewhat angrily ; the witness com 
 plied thus : "0, tt, i, w, e, 11, W, oo, dd." The spelling more 
 confounded the counsel than ever, and in his confusion, amid 
 the riotous laughter of the court, he took the witness aside, to 
 help him to spell it after him. 
 
 In the Life of OConnell, we find several piquant and 
 amusing anecdotes of that great representative of Repeal. 
 We have heard him speak in the British House of Commons, 
 and can readily imagine how much of the spirit of his humor is 
 lost in its being retailed. He was once examining a witness, 
 whose inebriety, at the time to which the evidence referred, it 
 was essential to his client s case to prove. He quickly dis 
 covered the man s character. He was a fellow who may be 
 described as " half-foolish with roguery." " Well, Darby, you 
 told the truth to this gentleman ?" " Yes, your honor, Coun 
 sellor O Connell." " How do you know my name ?" " Ah I 
 sure every one knows our own pathriot." "Well, you are a 
 good-humored, honest fellow ; now tell me, Darby, did you 
 take a drop of anything that day?" "Why, your honor, I 
 took my share of a pint of spirits." " Your share of it ; now, 
 by virtue of your oath, was not your share of it all but the 
 pewter?" " Why, then, dear knows, that s true for you, sir." 
 The court was convulsed at both question and answer. 
 
 Here is an ins tauce of his ready tact and infinite resource in 
 the defence of his client. In a trial at Cork for murder, the 
 principal witness swore strongly against the prisoner. He
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 261 
 
 particularly swore that a hat, found near the place of the mur 
 der, belonged to the prisoner, whose name was James. " By 
 virtue of your oath, are you sure that this is the same hat ?" 
 "Yes." " Did you examine it carefully before you swore, in 
 your information, that it was the prisoner s ?" " I did." " Xow 
 let me see," said O Connell, as he took up the hat and began 
 to examine it carefully in the inside. He then spelled aloud the 
 name of James, slowly, and repeated the question as to whe 
 ther the hat contained the name ; when the respondent 
 promptly replied, "It did." "Now, my lord," said O Conuell, 
 holding up the hat to the bench, "there is an end of the case 
 there is no name whatever inscribed in the hat." The result 
 was an instant acquittal. 
 
 The following anecdote of two eminent pleaders, Pinckney 
 and Emmet, we copy from the Knickerbocker : it is an admira 
 ble rebuke upon those who suppose that irony, sarcasm, and 
 invective constitute the essentials of forensic eloquence. 
 
 " We do not know when we have encountered a more forcible 
 exemplification of the truth, that a soft answer turneth away 
 wrath, than is afforded in the ensuing anecdote : On one occa 
 sion in the Supreme Court of the United States, the eloquent 
 Irish exile, Emmet, and the distinguished orator, Pinckney, 
 were on opposite sides in an important cause, and one which 
 the latter had much at heart. In the course of the argument, 
 he made some offensive personal observations on Emmet, with 
 a view of irritating him, and weakening his reply. Emmet 
 sat quiet and endured it all. It seemed to have sharpened 
 his intellect, without having irritated his temper. When 
 the argument was finished, he said : Perhaps he ought to 
 notice the remarks of the opposite counsel, but this was a spe 
 cies of warfare in which he had the good fortune to have little 
 experience, and one in which he never dealt he was willing 
 that his learned opponent should have all the advantages he 
 promised himself from the display of his talents in that way. 
 When he came to this country he was a stranger, and was happy
 
 262 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 to say, that from the bar generally, and the court universally, 
 he had experienced nothing but politeness, and even kindness. 
 He believed the court would do him the justice to say that he 
 had said or done nothing in this cause to merit a different 
 treatment. He had always been accustomed to admire and 
 even reverence the learning and eloquence of Mr. Pinckney, and 
 he was the last man from whom he should have expected per 
 sonal observations of the sort the court had just witnessed. He 
 had been in early life taught by the highest authority not to 
 return railing for railing. He would only say that he had been 
 informed that the learned gentleman had filled the highest office 
 his country could bestow at the court of St. James. He was 
 very sure that he had not learned his breeding in that school. 
 
 " The court and the bar were delighted; for Mr. Pinckney was 
 apt to be occasionally a little too overbearing. When we take 
 into consideration the merit of resistance against the natural 
 impulse of a warm Irish temperament, we must admire still more 
 the manner adopted by Mr. Emmet. Mr. Pinckney afterwards 
 tendered the most ample apology. The manner, said he, in 
 which Mr. Emmet has replied, reproaches me by its forbear 
 ance and urbanity, and could not fail to hasten the repentance 
 which reflection alone would have produced, and which 1 am 
 glad to have so public an occasion of avowing. I offer him a 
 gratuitous and cheerful atonement : cheerful, because it puts 
 me to rights with myself, and because it is tendered, not to 
 ignorance and presumption, but to the highest worth, intellect, 
 and morals, enhanced by such eloquence as few may hope to 
 equal ; to an interesting stranger whom adversity has tried, and 
 affliction struck severely to the heart ; to an exile whom any 
 country might be proud to receive, and every man of a generous 
 temper would be ashamed to offend. " 
 
 One or two other amusing anecdotes we are tempted here to 
 present. We cite them from a veritable " printed boke," and, 
 therefore, need not vouch for their authenticity. A member 
 of the bar in one of the Eastern States had espoused the cause
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 263 
 
 of a man indicted for passing counterfeit money. After a long 
 and severely contested trial, the " learned " gentleman obtained 
 an acquittal for the prisoner, who affecting an overwhelming 
 sense of gratitude, while pleading poverty, and the claims of a 
 family, as an apology for the smallness of the fee, took his leave 
 of his legal friend. When the unsuspecting counsellor, attor 
 ney, or barrister for these terms are generally used interchange 
 ably in the United States looked at his fee, he found it to be 
 of the spurious coin ! This is a rare instance of a lawyer 
 duped. 
 
 Special pleaders, sometimes resort to curious expedients for 
 producing an effect on the sympathies of a jury a body of men 
 distinguished alike for their acute sensibilities and critical 
 sagacity. In a criminal case, in which the culprit was arraigned 
 upon a charge of manslaughter, which seemed to bear very much 
 against the prisoner, the counsel held up his little child, who 
 was crying aloud, as an eloquent appeal to the jury in his 
 behalf. This might have answered very well, had not one of 
 their number put the pertinent question to the youngster, " What 
 are you crying for ?" when the artless reply was, " He pinched 
 me, sir." 
 
 As no one denies that the bar has been ever distinguished for 
 eloquence, it is not needful for us to cite a list of luminous names 
 to prove the fact. Rather would we present the following 
 curious case of an attorney, who was possessed of a wonderful 
 facility in " facing both ways." A Scottish advocate, we have 
 forgotten his name, having on a certain occasion drank 
 rather too freely, was called on unexpectedly to plead in a cause 
 in which he had been retained. The lawyer mistook the party 
 for whom he was engaged, and to the great amazement of the 
 agent who had feed him, and to the absolute horror of the poor 
 client, who was in court, he delivered a long and fervent speech, 
 directly opposite to the interests he had been called upon to 
 defend Such was his zeal, that no whispered remonstrance, no 
 jostling of the elbow, could stop him. But just as he was
 
 264 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 about to sit down, the trembling client, in a brief note, 
 informed him that he had been pleading for the wrong party. 
 This intimation, which would have disconcerted most men, 
 had a very different effect on the advocate, who, with an air 
 of infinite composure, resumed his oration. "Such, my lords," 
 said he, " is the statement which you will probably hear 
 from my learned brother ou the opposite side in this cause. I 
 shall now, therefore, beg leave, in a few word?, to show your 
 lordship how utterly untenable are the principles, and how dis 
 torted are the facts, upon which this very specious statement 
 has proceeded." The learned gentleman then went over the 
 whole ground, and did not take his seat until he had completely 
 and energetically refuted the whole of his former pleading. 
 
 Law is a very grave matter to the client, but it abounds with 
 its humor, irony, sarcasm, invective, and even scurrility, for 
 the counsel, or at least the special pleader; yet we are made to 
 believe that all these minister to the claims of justice, and the 
 majesty of law. Possibly it is from this cause that law has 
 been styled one of the liberal professions. It is liberal in more 
 senses than one; none will deny this in respect of its volubility, 
 for when it exhausts the mother-tongue, it then falls back upon 
 the dead languages; let not the simple-hearted, therefore, be 
 deceived by the speciousness of a lawyer s " brief." 
 
 We now propose to notice some of the peculiarities of plead 
 ing, in connection with briefs those legal documentary papers, 
 usually more remarkable for their extraordinary expansion and 
 verbosity than anything else. In early times, pleading was car 
 ried on without the aid of briefs. 
 
 Some one facetiously suggests that a briefless barrister ought 
 never to be blamed, because it is decidedly wrong to abuse a man 
 without a cause. 
 
 A lawyer has been compared to an odd sort of fruit first 
 rotten, then green, and then ripe. There is no little significancy 
 in the similitude as the history of many a briefless barrister 
 would attest, llow ofteu, like the medical practitioner, has he
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 265 
 
 to suffer from long disappointed ambition and neglect, while the 
 less meritorious are preferred as the favorites of fortune. 
 A brief has been thus briefly defined, an instrument 
 
 For pay. to prove the honest man a thief, 
 For pay, to breajc the widow s heart with grief, 
 To stifle truth, for lies to gain belief, 
 
 That s a brief! 
 
 Deeds* are said to be preferable to words; but legal deeds 
 are composed wholly of words; of 
 
 Ten thousand words, where ten would serve the need, 
 Ten thousand meanings, discord meant to breed, 
 Where none can understand, and few can read 
 
 That s a deed. 
 
 " Oh, Law ! There never were such times as these! A bar 
 rister could once with ease, have got as many fees, by merely 
 signing pleas, as would have given him something more than 
 bread and cheese; but destiny s decrees have made it feasible 
 no more to get such fees ; and if the lawyers please to live, 
 they can no longer live by pleas." 
 
 Exparte statements may, and too often do, so essentially 
 violate truth and honesty, that it is to be regretted the learned 
 members of the bar of the nineteenth century are found still so 
 strenuously to insist upon its adoption in legal process. Any 
 one, uninitiated, hearing for the first time the opening up of a 
 case, the examination of a witness, or the summing up of a 
 cause, would, doubtless, be inclined to conclude that lawyers 
 were professionally as great strangers to veracity as the simple 
 Hibernian was to the public stocks : who, on being asked if he 
 ever had any money deposited there, admitted he never had, 
 
 *Some faint idea of the bulk of the English records may be obtained by adverting to 
 the fact, that a single statute, the Land Tax Commissioners Act, passed In the first year 
 of the reign of George IV., measures, when unrolled, upwards of 900 feet, or nearly 
 twice the length of St. Paul s Cathedral, within the doors; and if ever it should become 
 necessary to consult the fearful volume, an able-bodied man must be employed during 
 three hours in coifing and uncoiling its monstrous folds! 
 
 12
 
 206 SALAD FOE THE SOCIAL. 
 
 but confessed to having had his legs there often enough We 
 subjoin one specimen of a brief. not of the briefest kind it is 
 true, being long enough and large enough to suit the most 
 garrulous of the profession. It is taken from Butler s Remini 
 scences : 
 
 " The length of legal instruments is often owing to the neces 
 sity of providing for a multiplicity of contingent events, each 
 of which may happen, and must, therefore, be both fully 
 described, and fully provided for. Of the nature and extent of 
 this multiplicity, the party himself is seldom aware ; sometimes 
 even his professional adviser does not feel it, until he begins to 
 frame the necessary clauses. A gentleman, upon whose will 
 the reminiscent was consulted, had six estates of unequal 
 value, and wished to settle one on each of his sons, and his 
 male issue, with successive limitation over to the other sons, 
 and their respective male issue, in the ordinary mode of strict 
 settlement ; and with a provision, that in the event of the death 
 and failure of issue male of any of the sons, the estate devised 
 to him, should shift from him and his issue male, to the next 
 taker and his issue male, and failing there, to the person claim 
 ing under the other limitations. It was considered, at first, 
 that this might be effected by one proviso : then by two, and 
 then by six ; but upon a full investigation, it was found that it 
 required as many provisos as there can be combinations of the 
 number six ; now 
 
 1X2X3X4X5X6=720; 
 
 Consequently, to give complete effect to the intention of the 
 testator, 720 provisos were necessary. 
 
 " By a similar calculation, if a deed, which the reminiscent 
 was instructed to prepare, had been executed, the expense of 
 the necessary stamp would have amounted to ninety millions, 
 seven hundred and twenty thousand pounds. Ten persons, 
 each of whom was possessed of landed property, having engaged 
 in a mining adventure, a deed of partnership was to be pre-
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 267 
 
 pared, which was to contain a stipulation that, if any one or 
 more of the intended partners should advance money to another, 
 or others of them, the money lent should be a charge, in the 
 nature of a mortgage, upon the share or respective shares of 
 the borrower, or respective borrowers, and overreach all subse 
 quent charges and, therefore, the charges were to be con 
 sidered as mortgages actually made by the deed. Thus, in the 
 contemplation of equity, the estate was actually to be subjected 
 by the deed, to as many possible mortgages as there can be 
 combinations of the number 10. Each of these possible mort 
 gages, being for an indefinite sum, would require the 25 
 stamp. 
 
 25X2X3X4X5X6X7X8X9X10=90,720,000. 
 
 Sterne insinuates that attorneys are to lawyers what 
 apothecaries are to physicians only that they do not deal in 
 scruples ! 
 
 One day at the table of the late Dr. Pearse (Dean of Ely), 
 just as the cloth was being removed, the subject of discourse 
 happened to be that of an extraordinary mortality among the 
 lawyers. " We have lost," said a gentleman, " not less than 
 six eminent barristers in as many mouths." The Dean, who 
 was quite deaf, rose as his friend finished his remarks, and gave 
 the company grace : "For this and every other mercy, the Lord s 
 name be praised !" The effect was irresistible. 
 
 Having referred to briefs, we are reminded of the opposite. 
 We have not dilated upon "the law s delay." The topic is, 
 however, too trite to talk about let an instance suffice. 
 
 About a hundred years ago, a Scotch gentleman bequeathed 
 to his " poor relations, of whatever degree," the sum of 
 20,000. In effect, he left them a Chancery suit, which has 
 remained in the family ever since. In the first place, the next 
 of kin disputed the validity of the bequest, but it was 
 established by Lord Chancellor Camden, and 463 persons made 
 out their relationship. Thereupon, in the year 1166, a bill
 
 268 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 was filed for the distribution of the money amongst them, 
 which has not been effected to this day. 
 
 A yet stranger case was that of the famous " Berkeley suit," 
 which lasted upwards of 190 years ! It was commenced 
 shortly after the death of the fourth Lord Berkeley in 1416, and 
 terminated in 1609. It arose out of the marriage of Elizabeth, 
 only daughter and heiress of the above baron, with Richard 
 Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, their descendants having con 
 tinually sought to get possession of the Castle and Lordship 
 of Berkeley, which not only occasioned the famous lawsuit in 
 question, but was often attended with the most violent quarrels 
 on both sides, at least during the first fifty years or more. 
 
 We have at our hand a case, and as it is a very striking one, 
 we may as well introduce it with the view of adding force to 
 our observations : 
 
 A lawyer, retained in a case of assault and battery, was 
 cross-examining a witness in relation to the force of a blow 
 struck : " What kind of a blow was given?" " A blow of 
 the common kind." " Describe the blow." " I am not good 
 at description." "Show me what kind of a blow it was." " I 
 cannot." " You must." " I won t." The lawyer appealed 
 to the court. The court told the witness that if the counsel 
 insisted upon his showing what kind of a blow it was, he must 
 do so. " Do you insist upon it ?" asked the witness. " I do." 
 " Well, then, since you compel me to show you, it was this 
 kind of a blow !" at the same time suiting the action to the 
 word, and knocking over the astonished disciple of Coke upon 
 Littleton. 
 
 In this connection we have yet another case to present, in 
 which the irritating and too irritable counsel was completely 
 nonplussed. It is as follows : 
 
 " I call upon you," said the counsellor, "to state distinctly 
 upon what authority you are prepared to swear to the mare s 
 age ?" " Upon what authority ?" said the ostler, interroga 
 tively. " You are to reply to, and not to repeat the questions
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 269 
 
 put to you." " I doesn t consider a man s bound to answer a 
 question afore he s time to turn it in his mind." " Nothing 
 can be more simple, sir, than the question put. I again repeat 
 it : Upon what authority do you swear to the animal s age ?" 
 "The best authority/ responded the witness, gruffly. "Then 
 why such evasion ? Why not state it at once ?" " Well, 
 then, if you must have it." "Must ! I will have it," vocife 
 rated the counsellor, interrupting the witness. " Well, then, 
 if you must and will have it," rejoined the ostler, with imper 
 turbable gravity, " why, then, I had it myself from the mare s 
 own mouth." A simultaneous burst of laughter rang through 
 the court The judge, on the bench, could with difficulty 
 restrain his risible muscles to judicial decorum. 
 
 Our readers may remember the story of the two Irish friends, 
 who, from long practice, arrived at great proficiency in the 
 science of unlawfully abstracting their neighbor s property, 
 and were not only true to the old maxim of " honor among 
 thieves," but evinced an ingenuity and skill worthy of a better 
 cause. One, having appropriated a goose, was on the point 
 of being condemned by a jury for theft, when the friend 
 appeared and swore that the bird was his, and had been ever 
 since it was a gosling, and the prisoner on this was acquitted. 
 Afterwards, in the course of his calling, the ingenious witness 
 Was himself arraigned for stealing a gun. " Don t be onaisey," 
 whispered the former culprit, u I ll relase ye." Thereupon he 
 stepped into the witness-box, and boldly affirmed that the gun 
 was his, and that it had been in his possession ever since it had 
 been a pistol. 
 
 An expose of the tender passion often occurs, which the 
 papers recite with- heightening effect, so that we are not called 
 upon to say much on that subject ; but as we have a sample 
 of that kind which is short and sweet, we place it before the 
 reader. In the Sheriff s Court, London, recently, a Miss 
 Rogers obtained 64 damages against a certain swain, bearing 
 the suspicious name of Bachelor, for breach of promise of
 
 2*70 SALAD FOR THK SOCIAL. 
 
 marriage. A number of the defendant s love letters were 
 produced, in which the fluctuations of his love were very 
 amusingly exhibited. His first epistles terminated with, 
 "Yours, J. B. ;" then fired up to "My ever dearest Maria ;" 
 afterwards they softened into " My Darling ;" then cooled into 
 " Dear Maria ;" then formalized into " Dear Miss Rogers ;" 
 and broke off with the following announcement : " You wish 
 to know how I intend to settle ; all I can say is, that I cannot 
 be more settled than I am." 
 
 It is reported of Caligula that he caused the laws of Rome 
 to be written in small characters, and stuck up so high that 
 the citizens could not read them ; with the same intent and 
 motive, it might be supposed, that our modern legislators and 
 lawyers are actuated by namely, the placing their sage edicts 
 above the apprehension of common minds, or at any rate beyond 
 their reach for any available purposes. A facetious writer has 
 given the following analysis of a law, and with it we may as 
 well close our rambling essay : " In the first place it is decla 
 ratory ; in the second, it is directory ; in the third, it is 
 remedial ; and in the fourth, it is vindicatory. The declaratory 
 says so and so is wrong, and the directory says immediately it 
 shall not be done ; but it sometimes contrives to say so in such 
 very civil and mysterious terms as to leave people in doubt 
 whether they may do a thing or not, until they find all of # 
 sudden they are put in possession of its true meaning, and 
 punished into the bargain for their obtuseness in not having 
 been able to understand it before. It is remedial, for it gives 
 a remedy ; thus, if you are deprived of your rights you have 
 the remedy of a law-suit, which is a great luxury, and it 
 must be admitted, an expensive one. It is also vindicatory, 
 for it attaches a penalty and such is the majesty of law, that, 
 whether right or wrong, he is sure to have to bear a portion 
 of the penalty who presumes in any way to meddle witli it." 
 The rules for interpreting law are extremely arbitrary. Words 
 are to be taken in their popular sense, without regard to gram-
 
 THE HUMORS OF LAW. 271 
 
 mar, which is, of late, becoming a matter of such trivial 
 moment amongst us, that it is hardly worth the noticing. 
 Grotius thought that the penalty on crime was a sort of tax 
 on sin, which some seem to think might be defined without 
 regard to syntax. 
 
 There are many antiquated absurdities and heresies, which 
 have to be reformed, before our legal institutions can be 
 regarded as adapted to the wants of the age. One of the 
 absurd customs still in vogue in courts of justice, is that of 
 inquiring whether the party arraigned, is guilty or not of the 
 offence alleged against him. This was recently rendered 
 ludicrous by the reply to the question : " Guilty or not 
 guilty ?" by a native of the Emerald Isle " Just as your 
 honor plazes. It s not for the likes o me to dictate to your 
 honor s worship. 1 
 
 The following is an amusing anecdote of the well-known 
 Cooke, the actor and musician. At a trial in the Court of 
 King s Bench, in 1833, betwixt certain music-publishers as to 
 an alleged piracy of an arrangement of the song of The Old 
 English Gentleman, Cooke was subpoenaed as a witness by one 
 of the parties. On his cross-examination by Sir James Scarlett, 
 afterwards Lord Abinger, for the opposite side, that learned 
 counsel questioned him thus : " Now, sir, you say that the 
 two melodies are the same, but different ; now what do you 
 mean by that, sir ?" To this Tom promptly answered, " I 
 said that the notes in the two copies were alike, but with a 
 different accent, the one being in common time, the other in 
 six-eight time ; and consequently, the position of the accented 
 notes was different." "Now, pray sir, don t beat about the 
 bush, but explain to the jury, who are supposed to know 
 nothing about music, the meaning of what you call accent." 
 Cooke. " Accent in music is a certain stress laid upon a par 
 ticular note, in the same manner as .you would lay a stress upon 
 any given word for the purpose of being better understood. 
 Thus, if I were to say, "you are an. ass, it rests on ass ; but
 
 272 8ALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 if I were to say, You are an ass/ it rests 011 you, Sir James." 
 Shouts of laughter by the whole court followed this repartee. 
 Silence at leugth having been obtained, the judge, with much 
 seeming gravity, accosted the counsel thus : " Are you satis 
 fied, Sir James ?" Sir James (who had become scarlet in more 
 than name), in a great huff, said "The witness may go 
 down." 
 
 We close our desultory chapter, by citing a paragraph from 
 the author of " Companions of my Solitude," because it reca 
 pitulates, in brief, the "law points" most vulnerable. 
 
 " What a loss is there of time, of heart, of love, of leisure. 
 The myriad oppressions and vexations of law. There are many 
 things done now in the law, at great expense, by private indi 
 viduals, which ought to be done for all by officers of the State. 
 It is as if each individual had to make a road for himself 
 whenever he went out, instead of using the King s highway. 
 I do not know a meaner and sadder portion of a man s existence, 
 or one more likely to be full of impatient sorrow, than that 
 which he spends at the offices of lawyers. Many of the 
 adjuncts and circumstances of law are made to retain, for 
 the sake of mystery, its uncouth form and size of deeds, its 
 antiquated words, and unusual character of hand-writing. 
 Physicians prescriptions may have a better effect for being 
 expressed mysteriously, but legal matters cannot surely be 
 made too clear, even in the merest minutiae." 
 
 After all we have to urge against the law, we beg to 
 acknowledge allegiance to its high authority ; and, as to 
 its administrators, let the words of an old epigram speak 
 for us : 
 
 When we ve nothing to dread from the law s sternest frowns, 
 We all laugh at the barrister s wigs, bags, and gowns ; 
 But as soon as \ve want them to sue or defend, 
 Then their laughter begins, and our mirth s at an end.
 
 (v--^.-^ 
 
 THE MUTE CREATION.* 
 
 " Know st thou not 
 
 Their language and their ways? Tiiey also know 
 And reason not contemptibly." 
 
 MlLTOS. 
 
 THE reasoning faculty in man is supposed to be the proud 
 prerogative which confers his preeminent distinction in the 
 scale of being; to institute a comparison, therefore, between it 
 and the instincts of the inferior creation may well excite sur 
 prise, and possibly be deemed incongruous, if not absurd. The 
 inculcation of moral precept in the form of fable, dates as far 
 back as the days of ^Esop ; and this favorite expedient so 
 attractive and suggestive has ever since been regarded as 
 equally poetic, elegant, and impressive. Need we higher 
 authority for its adoption, it may be found among the earliest 
 records of the sacred canon: "Ask now the beasts, and they 
 
 * A term originating with Lord Erskine, as a substitute for the phrase "brute 
 .creation."
 
 274 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 shall teach thee; and the fowls of the air, and they shall tell 
 thee;" while, in other passages, we are instructed to gather 
 lessons from the lilies of the field, and to take example 
 from the industry of the seemingly insignificant insects. 
 But " creation s lord " the " paragon of animals," blinded 
 by the consciousness of his boasted superiority of intellect, 
 renders himself inaccessible to the gentle teachings, the silent, 
 though eloquent persuasions of Nature s voice. We propose 
 to refer to some facts illustrative of the beauty and worth of 
 the moral virtues, deduced from this source. 
 
 Instinct seems to be the incipient state of reason, although 
 the instinctive sensations of which animals are the subjects can 
 not be properly classed in the same category with the ideas or 
 the rationative process of the human mind. Here is the 
 dividing line between instinct and reason, and yet it is difficult 
 for the metaphysician to define the boundaries of each, since, 
 as in the several kingdoms of nature animal, vegetable, 
 mineral they seem to commingle where they unite. 
 
 A German author* thus writes on this subject: 
 
 " In taking a review of most, if not all, of the actions of the 
 animal world, it must be obvious that, whether we allow them 
 reason or not, the actions themselves comprehend those elements 
 of reason, so to speak, which we commonly refer to rational 
 beings. So that if the same actions had been done by our 
 fellow-creatures, we should have ascribed them without hesitation 
 to motives and feelings worthy of a rational nature. It is 
 certain that most animals, in their several rational acts, show 
 every outward sign of consciousness or knowledge of the end 
 of their actions , not like the fixed and uninformed operations 
 of instinct, which is wholly employed in their self-preservation, 
 or in providing for their young. 
 
 " If we compare our own mental constitution with that of 
 brutes, however we may excel them, as we certainly do, in some 
 noble capacities and principles, exclusively belonging to our 
 
 * Schleiden.
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 275 
 
 moral nature, yet we possess many faculties and powers 
 precisely analogous to theirs; and tire motives and combined 
 operations of these, it is often as difficult to understand as it is 
 those of the lower animals." 
 
 The reason of animals, it has been urged, is limited to memory 
 enlightened by experience; the intelligence of man, on the 
 contrary, is unrestricted and free. This constitutes his supe 
 riority. 
 
 The peculiarites and habits of animals constitute a theme 
 rife with interest. In Buck s " Beauties of Nature," we find 
 many curious and important facts recorded, some of which ex 
 hibit a striking analogy between the characteristics of man and 
 those of animals. " Thus in the jay we may trace the petulant 
 airs of a coquette; in the magpie, the restlessness, flippancy, 
 and egotistical obtrusiveness of the gallant; while the green 
 macaw is the perfect emblem of a suspicious and jealous spouse; 
 for if its master s caresses are transferred to a dog, a cat, a 
 bird, or even a child, nothing can exceed its anxiety and fury, 
 nor will it be appeased till he forsakes the new favorite and 
 returns to it. Envious men and calumniating women we may 
 compare to the porcupine and the secretary-bird; and the 
 selfish will find their type in the rhinoceros, since it is said to 
 be incapable either of gratitude or attachment; while the 
 inebriate may also be classed with the rougette bat, whose 
 propensity to become intoxicated with the juice of the palm-tree 
 is no less proverbial. Again, obstinate or perverse persons 
 may read their lineaments of character in that of the Lapland 
 mouse, or the Arctic puffin; for if the latter should seize the 
 end of a bough, thrust into its hole, rather than let it go, it will 
 suffer itself to be drawn out by it and killed; and the former 
 will not move out of its course for any thing or any body." 
 Some indolent bipeds there are, also, who resemble a certain 
 bird, the laurus articus, which is said never to fish for itself, 
 but to live upon the good fortune of other birds, which it 
 pursues for the sake of their spoil. Others again may be said
 
 276 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 to exhibit a fatal affinity of disposition with that of the parrot 
 of Guinea, one of the most beautiful of its tribe, but which is 
 really the most ferocious in its disposition, when, to all appear 
 ance, it seems to be most inclined to enlist one s sympathies. 
 
 Thus writes the author of the Tin Trumpet: "The implanted 
 principle that determines the will of brutes is generally limited 
 to the great objects of nature self-preservation, the procurement 
 of food, and the continuance of the species. An intelligent 
 being, having a motive in view for the performance of any 
 particular operation, will set about it either similarly to others 
 or in a different mode, according to circumstances, his views 
 and powers of action being almost infinitely varied; but irra 
 tional beings never deviate from the instincts with which they 
 are born, and which are adapted to their particular economy. 
 Hence, animals are stationary, while man is progressive. Bea 
 vers construct their habitations, birds their nests, bees their 
 hives, and the spider its web, with an admirable ingenuity; 
 but the most sagacious of them can not apply their skill to 
 purposes beyond the sphere of their particular wants, nor do 
 any of them improve in the smallest degree on their predeces 
 sors. Exactly as they respectively built at the time of the 
 creation, so will they continue to build until the end of 
 time. To illustrate the contrary tendency and progressiveness 
 of man in his habitations, we should compare a Hottentot s 
 Kraal, with St. Peter s or St. Paul s." 
 
 Man has the power neither to eat, to walk, nor to speak, 
 until he is taught. Being the most helpless of animals, the 
 utmost of his earliest power is to suck, to move his limbs, and 
 to weep. Nor is he the only animal that has the divine faculty 
 of contemplation. Though the most intimate acquaintance 
 with vegetable anatomy discovers no organ that bears any ana 
 logy with the seat of animal sensation, it would nevertheless 
 betray a species of ignorance to deny sensation to plants : and 
 it would be as absurd to deny to animals the possession of some
 
 THE MUTE CREATION*. 277 
 
 faculty analogous to reason, since the faculty of imagination 
 is proved by their capacity of dreaming. 
 
 Aristotle concludes there " are between man and animals fac 
 ulties in common, near and analogous." He ascribes to the 
 elephant the character of being the most teachable and 
 tamable : but he adds, " one sole animal, man, can reflect and 
 deliberate." 
 
 It appears that there are certain kinds of intellectual power 
 of what, in man, at least, is commonly called reason com 
 mon, to a certain extent, to man and to some of the lower 
 orders of creation. And again, that there are certain powers 
 wholly confined to man especially all those concerned in what 
 is properly called reasoning all employment of language as 
 an instrument of thought ; and it appears that instinct, again, 
 is to a certain extent common to man with brutes, though far 
 less in amount, and less perfect in man ; and more and more 
 developed in other animals the lower we descend in the scale. 
 
 M. Flourens contends that there is a direct opposition 
 between instinct and intelligence, the former being blind, neces 
 sary, and invariable, while the latter is elective, conditional, 
 and changeable. Horses learn to obey man, and understand 
 some of his words ; this intelligence, in a qualified sense, is 
 the result of experience and instruction or training. Monkeys 
 and cats are taught to drink tea, elephants to fire pistols, don 
 keys and pigs to find cards or numbers. If brutes are not 
 invested with reasoning powers though Plutarch, Montaigne, 
 and others have sought to establish the fact something very 
 analogous to this they seem to possess ; indeed it is difficult to 
 account for the proofs of sagacity and intelligence which in 
 some instances they evince, on any other hypothesis. Thus 
 serpents are said to obey the voice of their masters ; the trum 
 peter-bird follows its owner like a spaniel ; and the jacana acts 
 as a guard to poultry, preserving them in the fields from birds 
 of prey, and escorting them home regularly at night. In the
 
 278 SALAD KOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Shetland Isles there is a gull which defends the flock from 
 eagles ; it is therefore regarded as a privileged bird. The 
 chamois bounding among the snowy mountains of the Caucasus, 
 are indebted for their safety, in no small degree, to a peculiar 
 species of pheasant. This bird acts as their sentinel ; for as 
 soon as it gets sight of a man it whistles, upon hearing which, 
 the chamois, knowing the hunter to be not far distant, seta 
 off with the greatest speed, and seeks the highest peaks of 
 the mountains. The artifices which partridges and plovers 
 employ to delude their enemies from the nest of their young, 
 may be referred to as a case in point, as well as the 
 adroit contrivance of the hind for the preservation of her 
 young ; for when she hears the sound of dogs, she puts 
 herself in the way of the hunters, and starts in a direction 
 to draw them away from her fawns. Instances of the effect 
 of grief upon animals are also no less remarkable. The 
 writer already cited says : " I knew a dog that died for 
 the loss of its master, and a bulfinch that abstained from sing- 
 Ing ten entire months on account of the absence of its mistress. 
 O n her return it immediately resumed its song." Lord Kaimes 
 relates an instance of a canary, which, while singing to its mate 
 hatching her eggs in a cage, fell dead ; the female quitted her 
 nest, and finding him dead, rejected all food, and soon died by 
 his side. 
 
 That most quadrupeds have all the bodily senses that man has, 
 and that many of them feel the various passions by which our 
 humanity is distinguished, would seem to be no matter of dispu 
 tation ; for even insects exhibit the emotions of fear, anger, sor 
 row, joy, and desire, and many of them express those passions 
 by sounds peculiar to themselves. Dupont de Nemours ima 
 gined he understood the language of beasts and birds. He 
 actually published " Translations of the Songs of the Nightin 
 gale," and the Crows Dictionary " Chansons du Rossignol," 
 and " Le Dictionnaire des Corbeaux." Montaigne will have it 
 that beasts have language, " and if we do not understand it, it
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 279 
 
 is not their fault." Milton imagines Adam master of the lan 
 guage of animals, as indicated by the motto to our chapter. 
 
 It has been suggested that the Pyramids were erected 
 in honor of bulls, not for the fame of kings; but not to refer 
 to the folly of the ancients in worshipping reptiles, insects, 
 birds, and quadrupeds, it will at least be fair to remind the 
 reader of the memorable instance mentioned in Holy Writ of 
 that supernaturally endowed animal, of a despised race, which 
 administered a merited rebuke to an unrighteous and disobe 
 dient prophet. 
 
 For the better illustration of our subject we shall now adduce 
 some illustrative anecdotes ; and as the dog is a very general 
 favorite, we propose, first, thus to exemplify, not only his supe 
 rior sagacity, but his exemplary fidelity, which latter feature 
 of character he seems really to possess in greater perfection 
 than his master, if we allow any significancy to the remarkable, 
 and certainly very disparaging inquiry of Solomon " A faith 
 ful man who can find ?" As in the case of the human species, 
 the canine exhibits a great variety of character and disposition 
 from the vicious to the amiable ; nor are these various 
 shades of moral development the less remarkable if we consider 
 the family connections and associations of this animal ; the dog 
 being a near relative of the fox, the hyena, the jackal, and the 
 wolf creatures whose characteristics are of a very questionable 
 kind. In the East and elsewhere, the dog wanders about wild: 
 but in more civilized communities his association with man 
 seems to have imparted to his nature somewhat of the polish 
 and temper of refined life. It is said that the dog in his 
 primitive state is dumb, and that he first acquired his faculty 
 of barking from his attempting to imitate the human voice. 
 Many of the canine fraternity lead a miserably degraded 
 existence, it is true ; but the opposite cannot, without excep 
 tion, be affirmed of the race of his master, as in the instance 
 of the inebriate, who degrades himself lower than the level of 
 the brute. Who does not admire the noble and sagacious
 
 280 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 creature, for bis usefulness, fidelity, and attractive manners ? 
 " He has been the pampered minion of royalty, and the half- 
 starved partaker of the beggar s crust : in one form he 
 appears as the high-bred hound of the chase ; in another, as 
 the lowly but more useful keeper of his master s flocks ; in 
 another, as the true and pertinacious tracker of human felons ; 
 in another, as the active destroyer of humbler nuisances ; and 
 in another, as the laborious beast of burden,"* For an 
 instance of canine sagacity we refer to the following : " A dog 
 belonging to a celebrated chemist, had tried upon it the effect 
 of a certain poison, and upon the next day a counter-poison 
 was administered with the effect of preserving the crea 
 ture s life. The following day another dose was offered him, 
 but he would not touch it. Different sorts of poisonous drugs 
 were presented to him, but he resolutely refused all. Bread 
 was offered, but he would not touch it ; meat, but he turned 
 from it ; water, but he would not drink. To reassure him, his 
 master offered him bread and meat, of which he himself ate in 
 the dog s presence ; and of that the sagacious animal hesitated 
 not to partake. He was then taken to a fountain, but he 
 would drink nowhere but from the spot where the water gushed 
 free and fresh. This continued for several days, until the 
 master, touched by the extraordinary intelligence of the poor 
 creature, resolved to make no more attempts upon him with his 
 poisous."f Take another case, which is no less significant : " A 
 gentleman who was in the habit of walking out with his dog in 
 the evening, on one occasion happened to be engaged beyond 
 the usual hour for the walk, when Brush made his appearance 
 carrying a hat in his mouth. His master took little or no 
 notice of the circumstance, thinking that the dog was acting 
 according to the orders of some of the family ; but in a little 
 while he again walked into the room, carrying his master s 
 boots, significantly wagging his tail, and evidently satisfied that 
 he had given a broad hint enough. It was found that the dog 
 
 Dr. BeU. tEdinb. Regliter.
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 281 
 
 had been guided solely by his own instinct. The following inci 
 dent, said to be well attested, and taken from a French work, 
 entitled, L Histoire des Chiens Celebres, shows that a well- 
 educated dog, under exciting circumstances, cannot only reason 
 and act with wonderful decision and presence of mind, but can 
 also manifest a feeling of revenge, which is not necessarily 
 his natural character, but which can hardly be surpassed in 
 intensity by a Christian warrior. " Mustapha, a strong and 
 active greyhound, belonged to a captain of artillery, raised 
 from its birth in the midst of camps, always accompanied its 
 master, and exhibited no alarm in the midst of battle. In the 
 hottest engagements it remained near the cannon, and carried 
 the match in its mouth. At the memorable battle of Fontenoi, 
 the master of Mustapha received a mortal wound. At the 
 moment when about to fire upon the enemy, he and several -of 
 his corps were struck to the earth by a discharge of artillery. 
 Seeing his master extended lifeless and bleeding, the dog 
 became desperate, and howled piteously. Just at that time a 
 body of French soldiers were advancing to gain possession of 
 the piece, which was aimed at them from the top of a small 
 rising-ground. As if with a view to revenge his master s 
 death, Rlustapha seized the lighted match with his paws, and set 
 fire to the cannon, loaded with case-shot ! Seventy men fell on the 
 spot, and the remainder took to flight. After this bold stroke, 
 the dog lay down sadly near the dead body of his master, licked 
 his wounds, and remained there twenty-two hours without sus 
 tenance. He was at length with difficulty removed by the 
 comrades of the deceased. This gallant greyhound was car 
 ried to London, and presented to George II., who had him 
 taken care of as a brave and faithful public servant. Byron 
 thus apostrophises this animal : 
 
 " The poor dog! in life the firmest friend 
 The first to welcome, foremost to defend ; 
 Whose honest hf.art is still his master s own ; 
 Who labors, fights, lives, breathes for him akme."
 
 282 SALAD FOR THK SOCIAL. 
 
 Hogg, the Ettrick shepherd, acknowledges that he " never 
 felt so grateful to any creature under the sun as he did to his 
 honest Sirrah! " The testimony of Burns is scarcely less 
 remarkable; he affirms "that the master is the soul of the 
 dog; all the powers and faculties of its nature arc devoted to 
 its master s service; and these powers and faculties are ennobled 
 by the intercourse." He sarcastically adds that the dog some 
 times puts the Christian to shame in this respect. 
 
 A few days before the overthrow of Robespierre, a revolutionary 
 tribunal had condemned to death a magistrate, who was a most 
 estimable man. His favorite and faithful dog, a spaniel, was 
 with him when he was apprehended, but was not permitted to 
 accompany his master to prison. Day after day the dog repaired 
 to the door of the prison, vainly seeking admission. At last his 
 fidelity won upon the keeper, and he allowed him to enter. The 
 meeting of the old man and hisdevoted dog may be better imagined 
 than described. The jailer, however, fearing for himself, shortly 
 afterward carried the animal out, although he admitted him for 
 a short time each successive day, as he regularly presented 
 himself. When the day of sentence arrived, the dog, in spite 
 of the guards, made his way into the hall, where he lay crouched 
 between the legs of his master ; and at the fatal place of 
 execution the faithful creature was present: the knife of the 
 guillotine fell, but he would not leave the lifeless body. After 
 two days he was discovered stretched upon his master s grave; 
 and for three months the disconsolate animal repaired each 
 morning and evening to the spot, leaving it only to procure 
 food from his new protector, who took pleasure in thus 
 rewarding his surprising devotion to the memory of his deceased 
 master. At the end of the period named he began to refuse 
 food, his patience became exhausted, and for twenty-four hours 
 he was observed to employ his weakened limbs in digging .tip 
 the earth that separated him from the being he so loved. 
 His powers now gave way; he shrieked in his struggles; and at 
 length ceased to breathe, his last look being intently fixed
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 283 
 
 upon the grave. If we admit that dogs possess the faculty of 
 thought, here is a decided case of a dog dying of a broken 
 heart. A poor tailor, of the Borough, left a small dog 
 inconsolable for his loss. The little animal would not leave his 
 dead master even for food; and when the corpse was removed 
 for burial, he followed the mournful train to the churchyard, 
 and would have remained at the grave but for the sexton, 
 whose ruder sensibilities prompted his expulsion. He was 
 found the next day, on the grave of his master, and there con 
 tinued to repeat his visit, as often as he was expelled, till one 
 day the circumstance having become known to the clergyman, 
 he had him supplied daily with food, and even built him a ken 
 nel on the spot, in order that be might indulge the bent of his 
 inclination. Two years did this mirror of fidelity pass in this 
 manner, till death put an end to his griefs.* Take another 
 instance of canine devotion, that of a dog whose master desired 
 him to guard a bag, which he had inadvertently placed almost 
 in the middle of a narrow street, in the town of Southampton. 
 While the faithful animal was keeping watch over it, a cart 
 passed by; and such was the immovable determination of the 
 creature to obey nis master s orders, that, rather than relinquish 
 his trust, he actually suffered the vehicle to crush him to death. 
 As an instance of generous revenge on the part of this noble 
 creature, there is a story told of a person who, being desirous 
 of getting rid of his dog, took it along with him in a boat, and 
 rowing out into the river Seine, threw it overboard. The poor 
 animal repeatedly struggled to regain the boat, but was as 
 often beaten off; till at length, in the attempts to baffle the 
 efforts of the dog, the man upset the boat, and he fell into the 
 water. No sooner, however, did the generous brute pee his 
 master struggle in the stream, than he forsook the boat, and 
 held him above water till assistance arrived, and thus saved his 
 life. Was not this dog morally superior to his owner, in thus 
 returning good for evil ? Here is another example of generosity : 
 
 * Elaine s Canine Pathology.
 
 284 8ALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 A favorite house-dog, left to the care of its master s servants, 
 at Edinburgh, while he was himself in the country, would have 
 been starved by them had it not had recourse to the kitchen of 
 a friend of its master s, which it occasionally visited. Not content 
 with indulging himself simply in this streak of good-fortune, this 
 liberally-minded animal, a few days subsequently, falling in 
 with a poor solitary duck, and possibly deeming it to be in 
 destitute circumstances, caught it up in his teeth, and carried 
 it to the well-stored larder that had so amply supplied his own 
 necessities. He laid the duck at the cook s feet, with many 
 polite movements of his tail that most expressive of canine 
 features then scampered off, with much seeming complacency 
 at having given his hostess this substantial proof of his grateful 
 sense of favors received. 
 
 We read of a surgeon whofound a poor dog, with his leg bro 
 ken. He took him home, set it, and in due time gave him his 
 liberty. Some months afterward the surgeon was awoke in the 
 night by a dog barking loudly at his door. As the barking 
 continued, and the surgeon thought he recognized the voice, he 
 got up, and went down stairs. When he opened the door, 
 there stood his former patient, wagging his tail, and by his side 
 another dog a friend whom he had brought who had also 
 had the misfortune to get a leg broken. There is another 
 dog-story related by Mr. Jenyns, which we think is not without 
 its moral. A poodle, belonging to a gentleman in Cheshire, 
 was in the habit of going to church with his master, and sitting 
 with him in the pew during the whole service. Sometimes his 
 master did not come; but this did not prevent the poodle, who 
 always presented himself in good time, entered the pew, and 
 remained sitting there alone: departing with the rest of the 
 congregation. One Sunday, the dam at the head of a lake in 
 the neighborhood gave way, and the whole road was inundated. 
 The congregation was therefore reduced to a few individuals, who 
 came from cottages close at hand. Nevertheless, by the time 
 the clergyman had commenced, he saw his friend, the poodle,
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 285 
 
 come slowly up the aisle, dripping with water: having "been 
 obliged to swim above a quarter of a mile to get to church. 
 He went into his pew, as usual, and remained quietly there to 
 the end of the service. This is told on the authority of the 
 clergyman himself. 
 
 Dogs perform an important part in street-begging, in London. 
 They have been known, on receipt of a penny, to run to the 
 baker s shop, and bring their master a piece of bread. We have 
 read of a dog, who, on the death of his blind master, followed 
 up his old calling by begging on his own account. Another 
 instance of canine wit, which seems to have a smack of the 
 facetious in it, is that of one who made a living by shoe-blacking, 
 in Paris. The animal, in his desire to serve his master, would 
 roll in the gutter, for the purpose of throwing mud upon the 
 shoes of pedestrians. A gentleman who was the victim of this 
 trick of trade, extorted the confession from his master, that he 
 had taught the dog this expedient, and that it proved a very 
 profitable one. 
 
 Instances of the strong attachment of the beggar s dog may 
 often be witnessed. Not only does he enact the guide to the 
 blind, but he performs other services equally essential: taking 
 up the alms dropped for his mendicant master, or holding a cup 
 to receive the contributions of the charitable; and often is he 
 seen placing himself in an erect attitude, with a most beseech 
 ing visage, which tells well upon the pocket. Hogg, the 
 Ettrick Shepherd, relates some surprising things about the 
 exceeding fidelity and utility of the shepherd s dog on the 
 highlands of Scotland. The dog is indeed indispensable in 
 that capacity, for no flock could be kept together without 
 his watch-care; and many instances occur in which several 
 hundred sheep are brought home from the ravines and rocks 
 of that northern clime, solely by this useful animal. While 
 most other quadrupeds fear man, the dog seems, by a law 
 seemingly of intuition, to regard him with feelings of strong 
 attachment. How inhumane are they who fail to appreciate
 
 286 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 this remarkable trait of his character. The spaniel is the 
 most grateful, affectionate, and patient under ill-treatment. If 
 punished, it receives the chastisrnent with submission, looking 
 up into the face of its offended master with a most deprecating 
 expression of sorrow ; whilst at the slightest returning encourage 
 ment, its indications of joy and delight are evinced with seeming 
 ecstasy. Here, again, an important moral lesson may be 
 learned by those who have not acquired the difficult and rare 
 faculty of suffering wrongfully without repining or resentment. 
 The Newfoundland dog is known to be superior to most others 
 in the power of swimming, for which it is peculiarly fitted by 
 having the foot partly webbed. Some years ago a nurse was 
 playing with a child on the parapet of a bridge at Dublin; with 
 a sudden spring, the child fell into the river. The agonized 
 spectators saw the waters close over the child, and imagined 
 that it had sunk to rise no more, when a noble dog, seeing the 
 catastrophe, gazed wistfully at the ripple in the stream made 
 by the child s descent, and rushed in to its rescue. At the 
 same instant the poor little thing reappeared on the surface : 
 the dog seized it, and with a firm but gentle pressure, bore it 
 to the shore without injury. Among the spectators attracted 
 to the spot was a gentleman who appeared strongly impressed 
 with admiration for the sagacity and promptness of the dog. 
 On hastening to get nearer to him, he saw, with, terror, joy, 
 and surprise, that the child thus rescued was his own ! Such 
 was his sense of gratitude, that it is said he offered five hun 
 dred guineas for the noble animal. The well-known dogs of 
 the Convent of Mount St. Bernard deserve more than a pass 
 ing tribute. If they find a child amid the snows, they stay 
 not for instructions, but hasten with it to the hospitable 
 monks. Of their own accord, they roam about these desolate 
 regions day and night, seeking to relieve the distresses of tra 
 vellers. One of these dogs has a cask of cordial tied about his 
 neck, to which the sufferer may apply for support ; and another 
 has a warm cloak fastened to his back, to cover him. It is
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 287 
 
 related that one of these indispensable animals had saved the 
 lives of twenty-two persons, and was at last buried in an ava 
 lanche, in attempting to convey a poor courier to his family, 
 who were toiling up the mountain to meet him: all were lost in 
 one common calamity. In. many of the canine species we may 
 also perceive an acuteness of perception and sagacity equalled 
 only by that of the elephant. Our illustrations of canine 
 instinct or intelligence would be incomplete were we to omit 
 the following. A gentleman was missed in London, and was 
 supposed to have met with some foul play. No clue could be 
 obtained to the mystery, till it was gained from observing that 
 his dog continued to crouch down before a certain house. The 
 animal would not be induced to leave the spot, and it was at length 
 inferred that he might be waiting for his master. The house, 
 hitherto above suspicion, was searched, and the result was the 
 discovery of the body of the missing individual, who had been 
 murdered. The guilty parties were arrested, confessed their 
 crime; and thus one of the " dens of London" was broken up 
 by the "police-knowledge" of this faithful dog. 
 
 The elephant, unwieldy and uncouth as he seems, presents 
 some remarkable features of character, combining the fidelity 
 of the dog, the endurance of the camel, and the docility of the 
 horse, with singular sagacity, prudence, and courage. It is 
 related of one of the soldiers of Pyrrhus, King of Epirus, that, 
 when fighting in the territory of Argos, he fell wounded from 
 his elephant, which rushed furiously among the combatants till lie 
 found his master, raised him gently from the ground with his 
 trunk, and placing him on his tusks, carried him back to the 
 town. A similar anecdote is given of King Porus, who, in an 
 engagement with Alexander the Great, meeting with a similar 
 casualty, his faithful elephant is said to have kept the enemy at 
 bay till he had replaced the monarch on his back by means of 
 his trunk ; although the poor animal, in this heroic defence, 
 was severely wounded. 
 
 In one of the recent accounts of scenes of Indian warfare, a
 
 288 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 body of artillery was described as proceeding up a hill, and the 
 great strength of elephants was found highly advantageous in 
 drawing up the guns. On the carriage of one of these guns, 
 a little in front of the wheel, sat an artillerynlan, resting him 
 self. An elephant, drawing another gun, was advancing in 
 regular order close behind. Whether from falling asleep, or 
 over-fatigue, the man fell from his seat, and the wheel of the 
 gun-carriage, with its heavy gun was just rolling over him. 
 The elephant, comprehending the danger, and seeing that he 
 could not reach the body of the man with bis trunk, seized the 
 wheel by the top, and, lifting it up, passed it carefully over the 
 fallen man, and set it down on the other side. An Oriental 
 traveller furnishes some amusing incidents respecting the docil 
 ity and sagaciousness of this monstrous creature. In his jour 
 neys, he says, if he wished to stop to admire a beautiful pros 
 pect, the animal remained immovable until his sketch was fin 
 ished ; if he wished for mangoes growing out or his reach, this 
 faithful servant selected the most fruitful branch, and, break 
 ing it off with his trunk for him, accepted very thankfully of 
 any part for himself, respectfully and politely acknowledging 
 the compliment by raising his trunk three times above his head, 
 in the manner of Oriental obeisance. Docile as he is, this 
 noble quadruped seems conscious of his superiority over the 
 rest of the brute creation ; a proof of this may be seen in the 
 following circumstance related by another Eastern tourist. 
 Some young camels were travelling with the British army in 
 India, when, having occasion to cross the Jumna in a boat, 
 and the driver being unable to urge them forward, the elephant 
 was appealed to to accomplish the task. The animal immedi 
 ately assumed a furious appearance, trumpeted with his pro 
 boscis, shook his ears, roared, struck the ground right and left, 
 and blew the dust in clouds towards them. The camels, in 
 their fear of the elephant, forgot their dread of the boat, and 
 they rushed into it in the greatest hurry, when the elephant 
 resumed his composure, and deliberately returned to his post.
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 289 
 
 Locke observes, " It seems as evident that some animals do in 
 certain instances reason, as that they have sense." This cer 
 tainly derives something like corroboration from the following 
 statement. At the siege of Burtpore, in 1805, the British 
 army, with its countless host of followers and attendants, and 
 thousands of cattle, had been for a long time before the city, 
 when, on the approach of the hot season, the supply of water 
 ge nerally fails. On this occasion, two drivers, each with his 
 elephant the one large and strong, the other rather small and 
 weak were at the well together. The smaller animal was 
 provided with a bucket, which he carried at the end of his 
 trunk ; but the other elephant, not being furnished with this 
 needful appendage, seized the bucket, and easily wrested it 
 away from his less powerful fellow. The latter was too sensi 
 ble of his inferiority openly to resent the insult, though he evi 
 dently felt it ; but the keepers began to contend and abuse 
 each other. At length the injured brute, watching the oppor 
 tunity when the other was standing with his side to the well, 
 retired backwards a few paces very quietly, and rushing for 
 ward with all his might, he drove his adversary into the well. 
 It may be supposed great consternation among the company 
 was the result ; and some fourteen hours assiduous and inge 
 nious labor wag required to rescue the ponderous animal from 
 his novel, though not unpleasant, situation. If a helpless liv 
 ing creature, or a wounded person, lie in his way, the elephant 
 will protect and succor him. An incident is recorded in the 
 history of the siege of Seriugapatam, to this effect : " I have 
 seen," says the officer referred to, " the wife of a Mahoot give 
 an infant in charge of an elephant, while she went about some 
 business, and have been much amused in observing the sagac 
 ity and care of the unwieldy nurse. The child, which, like 
 most children, did not like to lie still in one position, would, 
 as soon as left to itself, begin crawling about ; in which exer 
 cise it would probably get among the legs of the animal, or 
 entangled in the branches of the trees on which he was feed-
 
 290 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 ing ; when the elephant would, in the most tender manner, 
 disengage his charge, either by lifting it out of the way with 
 his trunk, or by removing the impediments to its free progress. 
 If the little creature should happen to stray away too far, its 
 mammoth guardian would lift it back as gently as possible to 
 the spot whence it had started." 
 
 Somnini mentions an elephant, at Naples, which was 
 employed with others in fetching water in a copper vessel, and 
 perceiving that the water escaped from some fracture, he took 
 the vessel of his own accord to a smith s for repair, in imita 
 tion of what he had seen done before by his master. 
 
 Take yet another example of the shrewd wit of this colossal 
 creature. Some men were teasing an elephant they were con 
 veying across a river. In the boat that was towed alongside 
 they had a dog which began to torment it by pulling its ears. 
 The elephant was resolved to resent the impertinence, and 
 what do you suppose was her expedient ? She filled her pro 
 boscis with water, and then deluged the whole party. At first 
 the men laughed at the manoeuvre, but she persisted until they 
 were compelled to bale, to keep from sinking ; when, seeing 
 this, she redoubled her efforts, and it is said she certainly 
 would have swamped the boat, had the passage across been 
 prolonged a few minutes further. Thus much although much 
 more might be presented in behalf of the noble qualities of 
 the elephant. We see that he is in no respect inferior to the 
 dog in character, and yet since the most excellent things are 
 said to lie in a small compass and the dog does not, like his 
 monstrous contemporary, require two hundred pounds of solid 
 meat per diem, or take up so much room the prevailing 
 preference for the canine will, doubtless, long continue to 
 obtain among civilized communities. 
 
 Even pigs may lay claim to a species of moral character. 
 It is true they are not over nice as to their personal habits or 
 deportment ; but, then, they seldom or never perpetrate the 
 high misdemeanors of which some human beings are culpable,
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 291 
 
 A facetious writer remarks : " Whether food is best eaten off 
 the ground or in a china plate, is, it seems to us, merely a 
 matter of taste and convenience, on which pigs and men hon 
 estly differ. They ought, then, to be judged charitably. At 
 any rate, pigs are not filthy enough to chew tobacco, nor to 
 poison their breath by drinking whisky. As to personal 
 appearance, you don t catch a pig playing the dandy, nor pick 
 ing his way up muddy streets in kid slippers. Pigs have some 
 excellent traits of character. If one chances to wallow a little 
 deeper in some mire-hole than his fellow, and so carries off and 
 comes into possession of more of the earth than his brethren, 
 he never assumes an extra importance on that account ; 
 neither are his brethren stupid enough to worship him for it. 
 The only question seems to be : Is he still a hog ? If he is, 
 they treat him as such. And when a hog has no merits of his 
 own, he never puts on any aristocratic airs, nor claims any 
 particular respect on account of his family connections. They 
 understand full well the common-sense maxim, Every tub 
 must stand upon its own bottom. " If there is an absence of 
 humor in the swinish race, the loss is fully compensated by the 
 love of fun inherent with the monkey tribe. Dr. Guthrie 
 relates the following amusing anecdote of a reasonable monkey. 
 
 " Jack, as he was called, seeing his master and some com 
 panions drinking, with those imitative powers for which his 
 species is remarkable, finding half a glass of whisky left, took 
 it up and drank it off. It flew, of course, to his head. Amid 
 their loud roars of laughter, he began to skip, hop, and dance. 
 Jack was drunk. Next day, when they went, with the inten 
 tion of repeating the fun, to take the poor monkey from his 
 box, he was not to be seen. Looking inside, there he lay, 
 crouching in a corner. Come out ! said his master. Afraid 
 to disobey, he came, walking on three legs the fore-paw that 
 was laid on his forehead saying, as plain as words could do, 
 that he had a headache. 
 
 " Having left him some days to get well, and resume his
 
 292 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 gayety, they at length carried him off to the old scene of revel, 
 On entering, he eyed the glasses with manifest terror, skulking 
 behind the chair ; and on his master ordering him to drink, he 
 bolted, and he was on the house-top in a twinkling. They 
 called him down. He would not come. His master shook 
 the whip at him. Jack, astride on the ridge-pole, grinned 
 defiance. A gun, of which he was always much afraid, was 
 pointed at this disciple of temperance ; he ducked his head, 
 and slipped over to the back of the house ; upon which, seeing 
 his predicament, and less afraid, apparently, of the fire than 
 the fire water, the monkey leaped at a bound on the chimney- 
 top, and getting down into a flue, held on by his fore-paws. 
 He would rather be singed than drunk. He triumphed, and, 
 although his master kept him for twelve years after that, he 
 never could persuade the monkey to taste another drop of 
 whisky." 
 
 In a family where a common monkey was a pet, on one 
 occasion, the footman had been shaving himself the monkey 
 watching him during the process when he carelessly left his 
 apparatus within reach of the creature. As soon as the man 
 was gone out of the room, the monkey got the razor and 
 began to scrape away at his throat as he had seen the footman 
 do, when, alas ! not understanding the nature of the instru 
 ment he was using, the animal cut its own throat, and, before 
 it was discovered, bled to death. A friend of ours possessed 
 one of these creatures, whose disposition seemed very affection 
 ate ; if it had done wrong and was scolded, it immediately 
 seated itself on the floor, and clasping its hands together, 
 seemed to beg earnestly to be forgiven. Mrs. Lee also tells 
 us of one belonging to her eldest daughter, which seemed to 
 know he could master the child, " and did not hesitate to bite 
 and scratch her, whenever she pulled him a little harder than 
 he thought proper. I punished him," she adds, "for each 
 offend, yet fed and caressed him when good ; by which means, 
 I possessed an entire ascendancy over him." The same writer
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 293 
 
 also gives an interesting account of a monkey which a man in 
 Paris had trained to a variety of clever tricks. " I met him 
 one day," says she, " suddenly, as he was coming up the draw 
 ing-room stairs. He made way for me by standing in an 
 angle, and when I said, Good-morning, took off his cap, and 
 made me a low bow. Are you going away ? I asked ; 
 where is your passport ? Upon which, he took from the 
 same cap a square piece of paper, which he opened and showed 
 to me. His master told him my gown was dusty, and he 
 instantly took a small brush from his master s pocket, raised 
 the hem of my dress, cleaned it, and then did the same for my 
 shoes. He was perfectly docile and obedient ; when we gave 
 him something to eat, he did not cram his pouches with it, 
 but delicately and tidily devoured it ; and when we bestowed 
 money on him, he immediately put it into his master s hands." 
 
 A monkey tied to a stake was robbed by the Johnny 
 Crows (in the West Indies) of his food, and he conceived the 
 following plan of punishing the thieves. He feigned death, 
 and lay perfectly motionless on the ground, near to his stake. 
 The birds approached by degrees, and got near enough to 
 steal his food, which he allowed them to do. This he repeated 
 several times, till they became so bold as to come within the 
 reach of his claws. He calculated his distance, and laid hold 
 of one of them. Death was not his plan of punishment ; he 
 was more refined in his cruelty. He plucked every feather out 
 of the bird, and then let him go and show himself to his com 
 panions. He made a man of him, according to the ancient 
 definition of a " biped without feathers."* 
 
 In the countries of the Eastern Peninsula and Archipelago, 
 where they abound, the matrons are often observed, in the 
 cool of the evening, sitting in a circle round their little ones, 
 which amuse themselves with various gambols. The merri 
 ment of the young, as they jump over each other s heads, make 
 mimic fights, and wrestle in sport, is most ludicrously con- 
 
 * Illustrations of Instinct.
 
 294 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 trasted with the gravity of their seniors, which might bo 
 presumed as delighting in the fun, but far too staid and wise 
 to let it appear. There is a regard, however, to discipline ; 
 and whenever any foolish juvenile behaves decidedly ill, the 
 mamma will be seen to jump into the throng, seize the offender 
 by the tail, and administer exactly that extreme kind of chas 
 tisement which has so long been in vogue among human 
 parents and Yorkshire schoolmasters. 
 
 That there is merriment genuine, hnmau-likc merriment 
 in many of the lower animals, no one can doubt who has ever 
 watched the gambols of the kid, the lamb, the kitten and monkey. 
 
 Examples of docility and patience are suggested to us, in a 
 forcible degree, by the beautiful reindeer, the camel, and the 
 horse : the former, it is known, is of indispensable value to 
 the Laplander, as the camel is to the wanderer over the sultry 
 and sandy wastes, where there are no cool shades, nor refresh 
 ing water-courses. Caravans, consisting of from 500 to 3000 
 merchants, are often saved from perishing from thirst, in their 
 weary passage over the arid and trackless desert, by the 
 acute sense of smelling possessed by the camel ; they are able 
 to scent water at the distance of two miles. This remarkable 
 faculty they seem to possess in an equal degree with the dog ; 
 they also evince a like teachable and tractable spirit with that 
 favorite animal, while the noble and intelligent horse exhibits 
 a no less striking example of these characteristics. To say 
 nothing of the symmetrical beauty and graceful bearing of this 
 universally esteemed creature, which it will be remembered 
 is to be seen in all its pride of beauty in the land of its 
 nativity, the East, its many excellent qualities would, apart 
 from its attractive form, commend it to preference. Like 
 other quadrupeds, it possesses the faculty of memory in a 
 singular degree, and also evinces no less its attachment for its 
 owner. It may, moreover, be trained to many ingenious 
 tricks, such as dancing, as the feats of the circus sufficiently 
 attest. Among others, there is a story told of a horse
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 295 
 
 kept by a gentleman of Leeds, who used to pump water from 
 a well with wonderful dexterity, for his own use, by taking the 
 handle in his mouth, and working it with his head, in imitation 
 of his groom ; he also was taught to open and shut the gate 
 for himself. In this connection, we might refer to the mule, 
 the zebra, and the poor, despised ass, as exhibiting exam 
 ples of patience under suffering and burdens for, with 
 the exception of the beautiful .yet untamed zebra, they have 
 been subjected to severe tests in this respect. The ass, indeed, 
 seems almost behind the age, his movements being too tardy, 
 and his laggard pace being rendered the more marked by the 
 lightning speed of the locomotive. Although almost unknown 
 to us, yet, in early times, and in the East, his fame was in the 
 ascendant; and it will be recollected this was the animal chosen 
 by the Saviour when He made his entry into Jerusalem. This 
 demure-looking and docile creature retains a strong love of home, 
 and is also possessed of no mean share of intelligence, although 
 his name is made synonymous with stupidity. It is true, he is some 
 times obstinate, and addicted to kicking ; but he is, in this 
 particular, no worse than many a biped under circumstances of 
 like provocation. Another zoological specimen which we 
 propose to introduce to the notice of the reader is the cat 
 a sort of counterpart to the dog in most domestic establish 
 ments. Cats have the reputation of great vital tenacity the 
 possession of nine lives ; and juveniles seem by common con 
 sent resolved to test the fact. The cat also has the wretched 
 reputation of always falling upon her feet, from whatever 
 height she may be thrown, and many a cruel experiment has 
 been made to ascertain that fact. We repeat that people 
 having a taste for clogs are seldom catholic enough in their 
 animal fondness to extend it to cats. You never heard of 
 drowning dogs, or pelting dogs, or having dogs worried for 
 mere amusement. The creature s more conspicuous gifts are 
 appreciated by those rougher-judging estimates, which are 
 unable to make out the subtler delicacies of the cat orgauiza-
 
 296 BALAD FOH THE SOCIAL. 
 
 tion. The man with a prime terrier for rats or a mastiff 
 which can throttle a bull-dog or a houud which can pull 
 down a red-deer or even a poodle which can sit upon its hind 
 legs and yelp at the word of command not one of these 
 amateurs but will discover and admire the points and motions 
 of the creatures while performing these achievements ; but it is 
 twenty to one that they never studied, or never thought it 
 worth while studying, one of the most perfectly graceful things 
 beneath the sun a cat curving herself for a spring ; or one 
 of the most dexterous performances which animal nature is 
 capable of a cat picking her way among a series either of 
 movable or hurtful petty articles, without touching a single 
 one.* 
 
 Cats differ as much in character as human beings do; and 
 like human beings, their character is very much to be predi 
 cated from their countenances. No two are ever seen alike, 
 and they vary as much in the conformation of their skulls as 
 do the different races of mankind. Southey, in his " Doctor," 
 gives a curious chapter upon the cats of his acquaintance a 
 chapter in which humor and natural history are agreeably min 
 gled together; ho was evidently a close observer of the habits 
 of poor puss, and took much delight in the whims, frolics, and 
 peculiarities of his favorites. Proofs of the domestication and 
 strong attachment of the cat might be adduced ad nauseam. 
 The story of M. Somnini and his favorite cat may be recollected 
 as a case in point: "This animal," he writes, "was my prin 
 cipal amusement for several years: how vividly was the expres 
 sion of her attachment depicted upon her countenance! how 
 many times have her tender caresses made me forget my trou 
 bles, and consoled me in my misfortunes! My beautiful and 
 interesting companion at length perished: after several days 
 of suffering, during which I never forsook her, her eyes, con 
 stantly fixed on me, were at length extinguished; and her loss 
 has rent my heart with grief." Among the admirers of the 
 
 * Angus B. Reach.
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 297 
 
 sleek and gentle cat may be mentioned Mohammed, Rousseau, 
 Petrarch, Johnson, Cowper, and we know not how many other 
 illustrious names. Madame Helvetius had a favorite cat, which, 
 at the death of her mistress, wandered about her chamber, mew 
 ing most piteously, and after the body was consigned to the 
 grave, it was found stretched upon the tomb lifeless, having 
 expired from excess of grief ! The Earl of Southampton 
 companion of Essex in the fatal insurrection having been con 
 fined some time in the Tower, was one day surprised by a visit 
 from his pet cat, which is said to have reached its master by 
 descending the chimney of his apartment. The following anec 
 dote of combined attachment and sagacity, equals anything 
 that has been told of the dog, and places poor pussy in a much 
 more favorable light than current opinion would allow. In 
 the summer of 1800, a physician of Lyons was requested to 
 inquire into a murder that had been committed on a woman of 
 that city. He accordingly went to the residence of the deceased, 
 where he found her extended lifeless on the floor, weltering in 
 her blood. A large white cat was mounted on the cornice of 
 the cupboard, at the further end of the apartment, where he 
 seemed to have taken refuge. He sat motionless, with his eyes 
 fixed on the corpse, and his attitude and looks expressing hor 
 ror and affright: the following morning the animal was found 
 in precisely the same state, and when the room was filled with 
 officers of justice, he still remained apparently transfixed to the 
 spot. As soon, however, as the suspected persons were brought 
 in, his eyes glared with increased fury, his hair bristled, and he 
 darted precipitately from the room. The countenances of the 
 assassins were disconcerted, and they now, for the first time 
 during the whole course of the horrid transaction, felt their 
 atrocious audacity forsake them. No experiment, says a 
 recent writer, can be more beautiful than that of setting a 
 kitten for the first time before a looking-glass; the little crea 
 ture appears surprised and pleased with the resemblance, and
 
 298 SALAD FOK THE SOCIAL. 
 
 makes several attempts at touching its new acquaintance: and 
 at length, finding its efforts fruitless, it looks behind the glass, 
 and appears highly astonished at the absence of the figure. 
 This certainly evinces a degree of intelligence. We might 
 instance cases in which the reasoning process appears to be 
 exhibited; but let the following, related by Dr. Sniellie, in 
 which ingenuity of performance .was combined with sagacity, 
 suffice. " A cat frequented a closet, the door of which was 
 fastened by a common iron latch ; a window was situated near 
 the door: when the door was shut, the cat gave herself no 
 uneasiness, for so soon as she was tired of her confinement, she 
 mounted on the sill of the window, and with her paws dexter 
 ously lifted the latch and came out. Tiiis practice she conti 
 nued for years." Many instances of the kind are upon record; 
 let one, however, suffice of a cat, who, having been neglected 
 at the regular dinner hour, which was usually announced 
 by the ringing of the bell, would agitate the bell-wire. 
 The sagacity of the feline race is so clearly evinced in the fol 
 lowing anecdote, that we cannot help inserting it. " Mr. 
 Tiedeman, the famous Saxon dentist, had a valuable tortoise- 
 shell cat, that for days did nothing but moan Guessing the 
 cause, he looked into its mouth, and seeing a decayed tooth, 
 soon relieved it of its pain. The following day there were at 
 least ten cats at his door the day after, twenty; and they 
 went on increasing at such a rate that he was obliged to keep 
 a bull-dog to drive them away. But nothing would help them. 
 A cat who had the tooth-ache would come any number of miles 
 to him. It would come down the chimney even, and not leave 
 the room till he had taken its tooth oat. It grew such a 
 nuisance at last, that he was never free from one of these 
 feline patients. However, being one morning very nervous, 
 he accidentally broke the jaw of an old tabby. The news of 
 this spread like wildfire. Not a single cat ever came to him 
 afterwards. It is extraordinary how the cats, in the above
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 299 
 
 instances, acted like human beings. It is so extraordinary, indeed, 
 that we think we must have reached the culminating point of 
 our illustrations of animal instincts. 
 
 We now propose to draw our illustrations from the history of 
 the insect and feathered tribes. Although one of the minutest of 
 living things, yet as the ant is placed by the inspired writer among 
 the "four things which are little upon the earth, but exceeding 
 wise;" and as it is the lessons of wisdom or prudence, which the 
 habitsof this interesting littlecreaturesostrikinglyillustrate, that 
 we wish to present, we shall take a brief survey of its peculiarities. 
 Insignificant and unimportant as it may seem to the unthinking 
 observer, the ant has engaged the scrutiny and curious study 
 of some of the greatest minds. With the single exception of 
 its associate, the " busy bee," it is unrivalled for its activity, 
 industry, and its social economy; and to such an universal 
 extent has it attracted human observation, that its name has long 
 since passed into the synonym for virtue. The sluggard is told 
 to observe the ant, "to consider her ways, and be wise;" the 
 prodigal to imitate her thrift; the young are told that she 
 " provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food 
 in the harvest;" and the unruly and turbulent have a powerful 
 monitor in the harmony of her busy communities. These 
 traits are amongst the cardinal virtues indeed they form 
 the bases of all human happiness. The value of prudence 
 is so apparent, that without it even the most unremitting 
 industry would prove of no avail. To find their excellence, 
 therefore, so beautifully illustrated in this, one of the tiniest of 
 created beings, may well excite our wonder and warmly enlist 
 our interest. Ants have parental, filial, and social affections 
 aud sympathies, and they are supposed by Huber to hold inter 
 course with each other by signs and the sense of touch. And 
 as to their fruits of industry, in some countries their hills are 
 twenty feet in height, and in Sweden, they erect structures 
 which Dr. Clarke considers far more wonderful iu their propor 
 tion, than the Pyramids of Egypt. According to the arrange-
 
 300 SALAD TOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 merit of entomologists, ants form the seventh family of Hyme- 
 nopterous insects, those having four membranous wings; this 
 may surprise those who have been accustomed to regard them 
 merely as wingless creatures, that burrow in little hillocks, but 
 the discrepancy will disappear when it is recollected that, like 
 other social insects, ants are of three sexes, and that it is only 
 the perfect sexes that are furnished with wings those of the 
 neuter gender, called workers, being without. The first 
 class form but a small proportion to the latter; the first-named 
 being devoted to the re-production of their race, and the vast 
 numbers of the wingless insect to the construction of their 
 ingeniously-contrived dwellings, and the social duties of their 
 several communities or colonies. There are numerous species 
 of ants, distinguished by their size and color, but chiefly by 
 their habits. Paramount with the erection of their habitations 
 and the procuring of food, is the assiduous care they bestow 
 upon their young, which usually extends, not only for a few 
 days, but even weeks, and sometimes months. If an ant-hill be 
 molested, the first care of the workers is to protect the young; 
 and they may be seen running about in a state of distraction, 
 each carrying a juvenile, frequently as big as itself. Ants 
 swarm once or twice a summer, when the youngsters build new 
 habitations for themselves, and live together in the same social 
 and orderly manner as their progenitors. The females are the 
 queen-mothers; but whether there is only one queen, as among 
 bees, or several, is not determined by naturalists; the latter is 
 thought most probable. The neuters or workers arc true 
 republicans, for they enjoy equal immunities and do all that is 
 to be done of actual toil; and yet, if nature has assigned to 
 them their allotted labor, she has also bequeathed -to them a 
 longer lease of existence, for after the winged males and females 
 have left the hive in summer, a few days of "aerial dalliance" 
 limit the term of their natural being. The little conical mounds, 
 familiarly called " ant-hills," evince wonderful architectural 
 ingenuity and skill; with their arched galleries, domes, pillars,
 
 THE MUTE CREATIOX. 301 
 
 and partitions, which rise in pyramidal succession. As these 
 nests are liable to be destroyed by heavy rains, by the acci 
 dental tread of colossal man, and also require to be enlarged as 
 the colony increases, the labor of re-constructing or repairing 
 affords an endless round of busy entertainment to these indus 
 trious little workers. Their cells have none of the geometrical 
 regularity so much admired in the combs of the honey-bee; and 
 as they do not, therefore, like their sweet neighbors, necessarily 
 act in concert, they may often be found working at cross-pur 
 poses. Such an occurrence does not seem, however, much to 
 disconcert them; for, more sagacious than human blunderers, 
 no sooner does an ant discover his mistake, than he sets to work to 
 undo what he has erected, and follows instinctively that por 
 tion of the plan which was more advanced than his own. In 
 general, however, when ants, according to Huber, commence 
 any important undertaking, they convene a council in their own 
 way, to deliberate upon some concerted plan of action, for the 
 result seems to indicate the existence of design and a precon 
 ceived idea. The actual mode of working of these insects has 
 been examined by the ingenious entomologist just referred to. 
 According to his observances, there were two or three small 
 openings on the surface of the nest, but none of the laborers 
 were seen to pass out that way, on account of their being too 
 much exposed to the sun, which these insects dread; for when 
 the freshness of the air, and the dew invited the ants to take a 
 walk, or survey their performances, they made new apertures. 
 
 " I remarked," says our naturalist, " that their habitations 
 changed in appearance hourly, and that the diameter of those 
 spacious avenues, where so many ants could freely pass each 
 other during the day, was, as night approached, gradually 
 lessened. The aperture at length totally disappeared, the dome 
 was closed on all sides, and the ants retired to the bottom of 
 their nest. 
 
 " In further noticing the apertures of these ant-hills, I fully 
 ascertained the nature of the labor of its inhabitants, of which
 
 302 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 I could not before even guess the purport ; for the surface of 
 the nest presented such a constant scene of agitation, and so 
 many insects were occupied in carrying materials in every 
 direction, that the movement offered no other image than that 
 of confusion. 
 
 " I saw then clearly that they were engaged in stopping up 
 passages ; and for this purpose they at first brought forward 
 little pieces of wood, which they deposited near the entrance 
 of those avenues they wished to close ; they placed them in the 
 stubble ; and then went to seek other twigs and fragments of 
 wood, which they disposed above the first, but in a different 
 direction, and appeared to choose pieces of less size in propor 
 tion as the work advanced. They at length brought in a num 
 ber of dried leaves, and other materials of an enlarged form, 
 with which they covered the roof an exact miniature of the 
 art of our builders, when they form the covering of any build 
 ing ! Nature, indeed, seems everywhere to have anticipated 
 the inventions of which we boast, and this is doubtless one of 
 the most simple. Our little insects, now safely in their nest, 
 retire gradually to the interior before the last passages are 
 closed ; one or two only remain without, or concealed behind 
 the doors on guard, while the rest either take their repose, or 
 engage in different occupations in the most perfect security. 
 I was impatient to know what took place in the morning upon 
 these ant-hills, and therefore visited them at an early hour. I 
 found them in the same state in which I had left them the pre 
 ceding evening. A few ants were wandering about on the sur 
 face of the nest, some others issued from time to time from 
 under the margin of their little roofs formed at the entrance of 
 the galleries; others afterward came forth, who began removing 
 the wooden bars that blockaded the entrance, in which they 
 readily succeeded. This labor occupied them several hours. 
 The passages were at length free, and the materials with which 
 they had been closed scattered here and thece over the ant-hill. 
 Every day, morning and evening, during the fine weather, I
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 303 
 
 was a witness to similar proceedings. On days of rain, the 
 doors of all the ant-hills remained closed. When the sky was 
 cloudy in the morning, or rain was indicated, the ants, who 
 seemed to be aware of it, opened but in part their several 
 avenues, and immediately closed them when the rain com 
 menced. Could the most enlightened reason, which ascribes 
 such procedure to mere animal instinct, have done more ? 
 
 The several species of ants found in warm countries are 
 indeed so numerous that volumes might be devoted to the 
 delineation of their character and habits, which in most 
 instances are marked by the finest displays of instinctive saga 
 city. We need not, however, attempt even their enumeration; 
 for " every group of plants has particular species, and many 
 trees are the exclusive abode of a kind that does not occur any 
 where else ;" it may safely be admitted, therefore, that ants 
 are amongst the most numerous forms of life on the globe, 
 teeming as it is with animated existence. That such an insig 
 nificant, though ingenious insect, should have been regarded as 
 the standard emblem of foresight," industry, and perseverance 
 whether the result of unreasoning instinct, or of indubitable 
 sagacity need not excite our surprise, although it may well 
 elicit our profound admiration. 
 
 Many speculations have been recently broached respecting 
 the conditions of insect life. Some appear to regard them as 
 endowed with the attributes of human reason in a modified 
 degree ; others admit the perfection of their senses, and ascribe 
 their conduct to instinct ; while a third class will allow them 
 neither sense nor feeling, but consider them mere animated 
 machines, as it were, propelled in all their movements by a 
 power they cannot control. With the latter class the writh- 
 ings of a trampled emrnet are not evidences of pain, any more 
 than the movement of its antennae or feelers is of touch, or the 
 direction of its eyes of sight. In fact, they deny insects the use 
 of these organs altogether a doctrine which will receive but 
 few adherents ; for however much their organs of sense may
 
 304 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 differ from those of man, it is clear that they were not given 
 without some function to fulfill. It is absurd, of course, 
 to ascribe memory, reflection, and the like, to creatures which 
 have no brain ; but it is equally absurd, seeing that these crea 
 tures avoid obstacles, evince symptoms of pain, have a choice 
 in food, and so forth, to suppose that their organs are not capa 
 ble of sight, touch, and taste. Their sensations may be very 
 different from those of other animals, just as their organization 
 is different ; but whatever they are, there can be no doubt of 
 their perfect aptitude to direct the animal in its manifold and 
 highly curious operations. 
 
 We leave, however, the learned to settle a subject so 
 involved and subtle, and proceed to give an illustrative anec 
 dote, selected from many that might be adduced, of the inge 
 nuity of this curious little creature in removing obstacles. 
 
 A gentleman of Cambridge one day observed an ant 
 dragging along what, with respect to the creature s strength, 
 might be denominated a log of timber. Others were severally 
 employed, each in its own way. Presently the ant in question 
 came to an ascent, where the weight of the wood seemed for a 
 while to overpower him : he did not remain long perplexed 
 with it, for three or four others, observing his dilemma, came 
 behind and pushed it up. As soon, however, as he had got it 
 on level ground, they left it to his care, and went to their own 
 work. The piece he was drawing happened to be considerably 
 thicker at one end than the other. This soon threw the poor 
 fellow into a fresh difficulty : he unluckily dragged it between 
 two bits of wood. After several fruitless efforts, finding it 
 would not go through, he adopted the only mode that even a 
 man in similar circumstances would have taken : he came 
 behind it, pulled it back again, and turned it on its edge; when, 
 running again to the other end, it passed through without the 
 least difficulty. 
 
 Some Indian species, according to an anecdote related by 
 Col. Sykes. exhibit feats of dexterity which one can scarcely
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 305 
 
 ascribe to mere instinctive sagacity. It is known, perhaps, 
 that ants, like cats, have a repugnance to water ; to prevent 
 their approach, therefore, the legs of a well-garnished sideboard 
 of sweets were immersed in water and detached from the wall ; 
 notwithstanding this precaution, however, they committed their 
 depredations upon the colonel s good things. He was curious 
 to discover their mode of effecting their purpose, and he accord 
 ingly watched the process. He observed a solitary ant climb 
 ing quietly up the wall of the room, and when it had mounted 
 to rather more than a foot above the level of the sideboard, it 
 took a spring to the sideboard ; soon after, others followed the 
 example of their pioneer, and each, with like success, safely 
 reached their tempting bait, and presently a host of these car 
 nivorous little epicures were regaling themselves upon the luxu 
 rious repast. Sagacious and dexterous as this interesting 
 fraternity are seen to be, we meet with an amusing instance of 
 their folly and want of concert. 
 
 " A wise and laborious ant was toiling up the bark of a 
 chestnut-tree, and pulling after him an entire snail-shell, the 
 size of a hazel-nut. He halted occasionally as well he might, 
 but he never lost hold of the shell, though the mere weight of 
 it, one should have thought, would have pulled his mandibles 
 out of joint. In a few minutes he had raised it upwards of 
 three feet, and all was going on prosperously, when it so 
 chanced that three or four idlers of the ant kind, and presently 
 as many more, met him on his way. Our laborer had almost 
 done his work ; his hind-legs were already within the hole into 
 which it was his plain purpose to introduce the shell, when the 
 new-comers (who, as we have seen, are always ready to help 
 one another) proceeded to do just the reverse ! They got upon 
 the shell, they entered it, they persisted in sticking to it : he 
 could not carry it ; and then the shell swerved to one side or 
 the other, according to the disposal of his friends within, who 
 had not even the sense to trim the boat ; still, by great exer 
 tion, he held fast, and might perhaps have accomplished his
 
 306 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 task, when two more strangers thought proper to contribute 
 their weight, and brought on the catastrophe. The weary but 
 persevering insect was obliged to let go, and the shell, 
 freighted with three insides and half-a-dozen outs, fell to 
 the ground ! They left the conveyance in apparent alarm, and 
 scampered off in all directions, while he remained for some time 
 fixed to the spot of his discomfiture. The shell being subse 
 quently examined, was found exactly to fit the hole in the 
 direction in which the ant was dragging it, and in no other." 
 
 Ants possess not only an acute faculty of scent, they also 
 have a mode of communicating intelligence by certain motions 
 of their antennae, or prominent organs attached to their heads. 
 A nest of ants in a nobleman s garden discovered a closet, many 
 yards within the house, in which conserves were kept, which 
 they constantly attended till the nest was destroyed. Some, in 
 their rambles, must have first discovered this depot of sweets, 
 and informed the rest of it. It is remarkable that they always 
 went to it by the same track, scarcely varying an inch from it, 
 though they had to pass through two apartments ; nor could 
 the sweeping and cleaning of the rooms discomfit them, or 
 cause them to pursue a different route. Here the insects per- 
 severingly followed the same track, a fact which leads one to 
 suspect that they leave some scent or trace perceptible to one 
 another. The ingenuity and intelligence discovered in their 
 actions, whether single or combined, are indeed so surprising, 
 that the Mahommedans have even assigned them a place in 
 their heaven. It has been said, no man is hopelessly bad who 
 can laugh : if we extend the application of the proposition, it 
 may not be absurd to humanize their conduct, and to sup 
 pose these little specks of being capable of generous emotions 
 and sympathies, if we judge by their evident habits of sport- 
 iveness. 
 
 " Whether ants," says Mr. Kirby, " with man and some of 
 the larger animals, experience anything like attachment to 
 individuals, is not easily ascertained ; but that they feel the
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 807 
 
 full force of the sentiment which we terra patriotism, or the 
 love of the community to which they belong, is evident from 
 the whole series of their proceedings, which all tend to promote 
 the general good. Distress or difficulty falling upon any 
 member of their society generally excites their sympathy, and 
 they do their utmost to relieve it. M. Latreille once cut off 
 the antenna? of an ant ; and its companions, evidently pitying 
 its sufferings, anointed the wounded part with a drop of trans 
 parent fluid from their mouth : and whoever attends to what 
 is going forward in the neighborhood of one of their nests, will 
 be pleased to observe the readiness with which they seem dis 
 posed to assist each other in difficulties. When a burden is too 
 heavy for one, another will soon come to ease it of part of the 
 weight ; and if one is threatened with an attack, all hasten to 
 the spot to join in repelling it." 
 
 We now return to the examples of economy and thrift as 
 evinced in the habits of the bee. In all ages, bees have claimed 
 the admiration of mankind as patterns of industry, economy, 
 cheerfulness, and ingenuity. "Wise iu their government, dili 
 gent and active in their employments, devoted to their young 
 and to their queen, the bees read a lecture to man that exem 
 plifies their Oriental name " Deburah she that speaketh." In 
 tracing some of the peculiar habits and characteristics of this 
 useful insect, we may possibly acquire fresh incentives to the 
 cultivation of one of the essential virtues. " A bee amongst the 
 flowers of spring," says Paley, " is one of the cheerfulest objects 
 that can be looked upon: its life appears to be all enjoyment 
 so busy and so pleased." Would that the like sunny smile 
 of cheerful contentedness shed its radiance over the brow of 
 toiling humanity: how many a secret sorrow would it assuage, 
 how many a weary hour would it beguile, and how much would 
 it tend to enhance the aggregate of human happiness. What 
 valuable lessons of thrift and economy are to be learned from the 
 habits of the "busy bee." Bees belong to the same genera 
 with ants: a colony of the former, occupying a hive, consists,
 
 308 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 besides the young brood, of one female or queen, several hun 
 dreds of males or drones, and many thousand workers. This 
 insect is so familiar to all, that it will not be necessary for us to 
 refer to its peculiarity of structure, further than to state that 
 the worker is invested with an extra stomach, which is called 
 the honey-bag, in which it deposits the sweets or saccharine 
 matter it collects from blossoms, fruits, and flowers. " The 
 most profound philosopher, equally with the most incurious 
 mortals," says Kirby, "is struck with astonishment on inspect 
 ing the interior of a bee-hive: he beholds a city in miniature. 
 He sees this city divided into regular streets, these streets 
 composed of houses constructed on the most exact geometrical 
 principles, and the most symmetrical plan some serving for 
 storehouses for food, others for the habitations of the citizens, 
 and a few, much more extensive than the rest, destined for the 
 palaces of the sovereign. He perceives that the substance of 
 which the whole city is built, is one which man, with all his 
 skill, is unable to fabricate; and that the edifices are such as 
 the most expert artist would find himself incompetent to erect: 
 yet the whole is the work of a society of mere insects!" 
 Shakspeare has thus sketched the subject: 
 
 " So work the honey-bees ; 
 Creatures, that by a rule in nature, teach 
 The art of order to a peopled kingdom. 
 They have a king, and officers of sorts : 
 "Where some, like magistrates, correct at home ; 
 Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ; 
 Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, 
 Make boot upon the summer s velvet buds ; 
 Which pillage they with merry march bring home 
 To the tent-royal of their emperor : 
 Who, busied in his majesty, surveys 
 The singing masons building roofs of gold; 
 The civil citizens kneading up the honey, 
 The poor mechanic porters crowding in 
 Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ;
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 309 
 
 The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, 
 Delivering o er to executor s pale 
 The lazy yawning drone/ 
 
 A number of honey-combs, composed of cells for the most 
 part hexagonal or six-sided, regularly applied to each other s 
 sides, and arranged in two strata or layers, placed end to end, 
 are fixed to the upper part and sides of the interior of the hive. 
 These combs are arranged vertically at a small distance from 
 each other, so that the cells composing them are placed in a 
 horizontal position, and have their openings in different direc 
 tions. The distance between the combs is about half an inch, 
 sufficient to allow two bees to pass each other easily: besides 
 these vacancies, the combs are here and there pierced with holes, 
 which serve as a means of communication from one comb to 
 another, without losing time by going round. In the construc 
 tion of these cells, the singular skill of this ingenious insect is 
 displayed in their strength and perfect adaptation, and the 
 economy of the wax, of which they are composed, as well as 
 of the space they occupy. The patient processes by which they 
 construct these cells no less evince their unremitting diligence 
 and skill. As soon as the cells are ready for their reception, 
 the queen-bee proceeds to deposit her eggs, and such is the 
 astonishing fecundity of this insect, that, according to entomolo 
 gists, it has been known in a single season to produce the sur 
 prising number of one hundred thousand. On the expiration 
 of four days, the infant bee makes its appearance, when the 
 nurse-bees immediately tender their services, very assiduously 
 supplying it with food. After five days more, the attendants 
 seal up the cells with wax, when the inclosed nurseling spins in 
 security its cocoon: in all these labors neither the queen nor 
 the drones render any assistance; they are performed exclusively 
 by the workers, as in the case of the ants. In escaping from 
 its cradle, which is generally about the third week, without any 
 previous instruction, full of life, and buoyant with vigor, it takes 
 its first flight; visits, like the rest, the subjects of Flora, absorbs
 
 310 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 their ueetar, covers itself with their ambrosial dust, and returns, 
 when tired of its gay gambols and delightful toils, richly freighted 
 with sweets, to contribute its mite to the general stock of the 
 colony. Many amusing if not extravagant stories are given by 
 naturalists, respecting the exceeding loyalty of bees to their 
 queen; their passion for monarchy indeed brings them into near 
 connection with the auts. The following anecdote will illustrate 
 this: " A young girl of my acquaintance," says the narrator, "was 
 greatly afraid of bees, and she became completely cured of her 
 timidity by the following incident. A swarm having come.off, 
 I observed the queen alight by herself at a little distance from 
 the apiary; I immediately called my little friend, that I might 
 show her the queen; she wished to inspect her more closely; 
 so, having caused her to put on her gloves, I gave the queen 
 into her hand. We were in an instant surrounded by the 
 whole bees of the swarm. In this emergency I encouraged 
 the girl to be steady, bidding her to be silent and to fear 
 nothing, and remaining myself close by her; I then made 
 her stretch out her right hand, which held the queen, and cov 
 ered her head and shoulders with a very thin handkerchief: the 
 swarm soon fixed on her hand, and hung from it as from the 
 branch of a tree. The little girl was delighted beyond measure 
 at the novel sight, and so entirely freed from all fear, that she 
 bade me uncover her face. The spectators were charmed by the 
 interesting spectacle. At length, I brought a hive, and shaking 
 the swarm from the child s hand, it was lodged in safety, and 
 without inflicting a single wound." 
 
 As an illustration of what may be accomplished by perse 
 verance, we may next briefly allude to the habits of the spider 
 a creature we are accustomed to regard with aversion, but 
 whose beautiful silken net-work, dotted with dew and sparkling 
 in the sunshine, affords traces of exquisite skill and patient 
 toil. 
 
 The busy hive of human industry, whether in the depart 
 ment of the mechanic arts, or in the more subtle investiga-
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 311 
 
 tions of pure science, has its counterpart, as we have seen, in 
 the several classes of the subordinate creation. An ingenious 
 writer thus attempts their analogy : " Spiders are geometri 
 cians, as are also bees, whose cells are so constructed as, with 
 the least quantity of material, to have the largest sized spaces 
 and the least possible loss of interstices ; the mole is a meteo 
 rologist ; the nautilus is a navigator, for he raises and lowers 
 his sails, casts and weighs anchor, and performs other nautical 
 evolutions ; while the whole tribe of birds are musicians. The 
 beaver may be called a builder or architect ; the marmot is a 
 civil engineer, for he not only constructs houses and aqueducts, 
 but also drains to keep them dry ; caterpillars are silk-spin 
 ners ; wasps are paper manufacturers ; the bird plocens textor 
 is a weaver ; the indefatigable ants are day-laborers ; the 
 monkey a rope-dancer ; dogs are hunters ; pigs, scavengers ; 
 and the torpedo and eel are electricians or shocking animals. 
 If they were to turn authors, it has been suggested the 
 eagle would excel in epic ; the sheep in pastoral poetry ; 
 the horse in chivalry ; the elephant in philosophy ; the cow 
 in agriculture ; the dog in drama ; the monkey in burlesque 
 and low comedy : the cat in sly sarcasm ; the goose ia ver 
 bosity ; the owl in epitaphs and elegies ; the bear in waltzing; 
 the hog in philosophic Bacon ; the magpie and the parrot in 
 plagiarism ; the turkey in vanity. 
 
 The delicate fabric of the spider s web is a miracle of skill ; 
 although so fine as to be scarcely visible without the aid of a 
 microscope, the spider s thread is nevertheless composed, not 
 of a single line, as is usually supposed, but, as we learn from 
 good authority, of not less than four thousand strands. And 
 this is true with respect to spiders not larger than a grain of 
 sand, as well as the largest specimens. The gauze-like texture 
 of the web of the house-spider, as well as the beautiful net 
 more commonly found among the foliage, composed of a series 
 of concentric circles, united by radii diverging from the centre,
 
 312 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 are both exquisite specimens of insect skill. Not only in the 
 ingenious construction of its web, the meshes of which are 
 dexterously spread for the capture of its prey, does the spider 
 evince its remarkable habits of industrious perseverance ; it is 
 also endowed with a strong instinctive love of its offspring, 
 and discovers, like most other members of the animal creation, 
 wonderful fertility of invention. Looking abroad into the 
 world, how incessantly are we reminded of the great ruling 
 condition of our being, that of activity and dilligence ; the 
 book of Xature ever teaches us the lesson. Day and night, 
 summer and winter, cold and heat, succeed each other in their 
 untiring course. The tides of ocean and the rivers ebb and 
 flow ; the endless variety of the vegetable kingdom is ever 
 changing into new and fresh forms of beauty flowers, fruits, 
 and foliage, and all animate things are seen disporting in air, 
 earth, and water, joyously obedient to the mandate, and bask 
 ing in the sunshine of their beneficent Creator. 
 
 " Man thinks that he stands unrivalled as an architect, and 
 that his productions far transcend the works of the inferior 
 order of animals. He would be of a different opinion did he 
 attend to the history of insects; he would find that many of them 
 have been architects from time immemorial ; that they had their 
 houses divided into various apartments, and containing staircases, 
 elegant arches, domes, colonnades, and the like. No female 
 ornament is more prized and costly than lace, the invention and 
 fabrication of which, seems the exclusive claim of the softer sex. 
 But even here they been anticipated by these little industrious 
 creatures, who often defend their helpless chrysalides by a most 
 singular covering and as beautiful as singular of lace. Other 
 arts have been equally forestalled by these creatures. We ima 
 gine that nothing short of human intellect can be equal to the 
 construction of a diving bell or air pump yet a spider is in 
 the daily habit of using the one, and what is more, one exactly 
 similar in principle to ours, but more ingeniously contrived ;
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 313 
 
 by means of which she resides unwetted in the bosotn of the 
 water, and procures the necessary supplies of air by a much 
 more simple process than our alternating buckets and the 
 caterpillar of a little moth knows how to imitate the other, 
 producing a vacuum, when necessary for its purposes, without 
 any piston besides its own body. 
 
 " If we think with wonder of the populous cities which have 
 employed the united labors of man for many ages to bring 
 them to their full extent, what shall we think of the white ants, 
 which require only a few months to build a metropolis capable 
 of containing an infinitely greater number of inhabitants than 
 even the imperial Nineveh, Babylon, or Pekin, in all their 
 glory ? 
 
 "That insects should thus have forestalled us in our inven 
 tions, ought to urge us to pay a closer attention to them and 
 their ways than we have hitherto done ; since it is not at all 
 improbable that the result would supply useful hints for the 
 improvement of our arts and manufactures, and perhaps be the 
 clue to some beneficial discoveries. 
 
 Although parrots are excessively amusing in their small* 
 talk, yet, as they cannot be supposed to be conscious of what 
 they say, we can only refer to them here, en passant, on the 
 ground that they bear some seeming analogy, in this respect, 
 to some human talkers. Mrs. Lee, in her " Anecdotes of 
 Birds," mentions the instance of a parrot that had lost one of 
 its legs, and no sooner did any one remark this, or ask how it 
 had been lost, than it replied : "I lost niy leg in the mer 
 chant service ; pray, remember the lame." 
 
 The following story has often been recited before, but it will 
 bear repeating : 
 
 " A tradesman who had a shop in the Old Bailey, London, 
 opposite the prison, kept two parrots, a green and a grey. 
 The green parrot was taught to speak when there was a knock 
 at the street-door ; the gray, whenever the bell rang ; but 
 they only knew two short phrases of English. The house in 
 
 14
 
 314 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 which they lived, had an old-fashioned, projecting front, BO 
 that the first floor could not be seen from the pavement on the 
 same side of the way ; and, on one occasion, they were left 
 outside the window by themselves, when some one knocked at 
 the street door. 
 
 " Who is there ? said the green parrot. 
 
 " The man with the leather, was the reply ; to which, the 
 bird answered : 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! 
 
 " The door not being opened, the stranger knocked a second 
 time. 
 
 " Who is there ? said green poll. 
 
 " Who is there? exclaimed the man. Why don t you 
 come down ? 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! repeated the parrot. 
 
 " This so enraged the stranger, that he rang the bell 
 furiously. 
 
 " Go to the gate, said a new voice, which belonged to the 
 gray parrot. 
 
 " To the gate ? repeated the man, who saw no such 
 entrance, and who thought that the servants were bantering 
 him. What gate ? he asked, stepping back to view the 
 premises. 
 
 " New-gate/ responded the gray, just as the angry appli 
 cant discovered who had been answering his summons." 
 
 Parrots have been known to mimic the sound of planing 
 a deal board, the mewing of a cat, or the barking of a dog, so 
 accurately as to deceive the closest observers. 
 
 The predilection of animals for particular persons was once 
 the means of deciding, very amusingly, a case before a court 
 of justice. It was at a Dublin police-office, and the object of^ 
 dispute was a pet parrot, which had been stolen from a Mr. 
 Davis, and sold to a Mr. Moore. The plaintiff, taking the 
 bird upon his finger, said, " Come, old boy, give me a kiss," 
 which the parrot instantly did. A youth, in the defendant s
 
 THE MUTE CREATION. 315 
 
 interest, remarked that this proved nothing, as the parrot 
 would kiss anybody. "You had better not try," remarked 
 the plaintiff. Nevertheless, the young man asked the parrot 
 to kiss him. Poll, Judas-like, advanced as if to give the 
 required salute, but seized the youth s lip, and made him roar 
 with pain. This fact, and the parrot s obeying the plaintiff in 
 several other requisitions, caused it to be instantly ordered 
 into the possession of its original master. 
 
 Wordsworth has devoted some excellent lines to that favor 
 ite of the feathered choristers of England the sky-lark ; in 
 which he is apostrophised as the emblem of cheerfulness a 
 
 " Type of the wise, who soar but never roam. 
 True to the kindred points of heaven and home." 
 
 It has been well observed, that while " mirth is like a flash of 
 lightning that breaks through a gloom of clouds, and glitters 
 for a moment, cheerfulness keeps up a kind of daylight in the 
 mind, and fills it with a steady and perpetual serenity." The 
 matin-song of the lark was in ancient Greece the signal for the 
 reaper to commence his toils ; these were suspended during 
 the heat of the day, when the bird was silent, and resumed 
 when the sun began to verge towards the west, and this blithe 
 chorister filled the air anew with its warblings. Other birds 
 may sing gaily, but the sky-lark is jubilant almost sublime, 
 as, in bis heavenward flight, he pours forth the rich melody 
 of his hymn of joy. The early spring is the best time 
 to hear the lark s cheerful and exhilarating song ; the bird 
 rises on quivering wing, almost perpendicularly, describing a 
 sort of curve in the air, singing as he flies ; yet so powerful i-s 
 his voice, that his wild, rapturous notes can be heard distinctly 
 when the pained eye can trace his course no longer. An ear 
 well-tuned to his song, can even then determine by his notes 
 whether the bird is still ascending, or on the descent. When 
 at a considerable height, should a hawk appear in sight, or the
 
 310 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 well-known voice of his mate reach his ear, the wings are 
 closed, and he drops to the earth with the rapidity of a stone. 
 What a beautiful and touching picture have we here of cheer 
 fulness and conjugal affection ; it is impossible to witness it 
 without feeling its beneficent influence. The presence of a 
 cheerful spirit has been compared to " a sweet sunshine that 
 awakens a secret delight in the mind ;" happy, indeed, are 
 they who, like this joyous bird, can rise with alacrity, amid 
 the cloudy atmosphere of adversity, upon the bright pinions 
 of Hope. True cheerfulness and contentment are a well- 
 spring of happiness a treasure well worth the best efforts we 
 can make to secure it ; and it is within the reach of all. The 
 love of home, another of the cardinal virtues, is exemplified in 
 the habits and characteristics of the dove. It is an instinctive 
 feeling possessed by many of the lower animals ; the dog, 
 sheep, and cat, evince the ruling influence of this passion ; but 
 the dove, especially the carrier-dove, or pigeon, discovers this 
 wonderful faculty in a preeminent degree, and under circum 
 stances the most remarkable. 
 
 From the earliest ages, doves have been regarded as emblems 
 of gentleness and innocence ; poets have celebrated their 
 praises, and frequent mention of them is made in Holy Writ. 
 The dove was the messenger sent forth from the Ark, to 
 ascertain whether the waters had subsided from the earth ; 
 and returning with an olive branch in her mouth, she became, 
 henceforth, the emblem of peace. Even our Saviour took 
 occasion to enjoin it upon his disciples to become in the midst 
 of enemies, " wise as serpents and harmless as doves ;" and the 
 highest honor was conferred upou this gentle creature, when it 
 was made the type of the Holy Spirit, and thus became the 
 symbol of all that was pure, peaceful, and holy. The cooing 
 of doves is a plaintive and expressive sound, which, it has been 
 fitly said, harnioni/es well with the subdued murmuring of 
 brooks, and the sighing of the zephyr in the quiet and seques 
 tered spots which these birds frequent.
 
 TUB MUTE CREATION. 317 
 
 " Deep in the wood thy voice I list, and lore 
 Thy soft complaining song thy tender cooing ; 
 Oh ! what a winning way thou hast of wooing ! 
 Gentlest of all thy race sweet turtle dove." 
 
 The instinctive love of home, characteristic of this bird, has 
 been turned to good account among mankind from an early 
 period, and their importance as letter-carriers is well known. 
 The plan adopted is as follows : The bird is first transported 
 to the place from which any letter is to be conveyed, and with 
 a perception altogether unaccountable and wonderful, the 
 aerial letter-carrier speeds its way direct to its former home. 
 A regular system of posting^was once established in the East 
 by this means ; lofty towers having been erected by the Turk 
 ish government, at the distance of thirty miles apart, and each 
 of these was provided with a due supply of pigeons, under the 
 management of sentinels, whose business it was to receive the 
 winged messengers, and transmit the intelligence they brought 
 by others. The message or letter was written on a very thin 
 slip of paper, and inclosed in a small gold box, almost as thin 
 as the paper itself, which was fastened to the neck of the bird. 
 This expedient has been adopted, even down to within a late 
 date, for the more speedy transmission of important news, in 
 various parts of Europe, and in our own country ; the 
 electric telegraph has, however, since superseded their use. 
 Here we close our remarks about the winged and walking 
 things of earth, whose characteristic developments are so sug 
 gestive of moral instruction to "the paragon of animals ;" and 
 although the lessons they teach are fraught with deepest 
 interest, and cannot but reflect a beneficial influence, yet it is 
 to be feared but too many are found inaccessible to their power, 
 and inaudible to their teaching. 
 
 In fine, after all that has been adduced on the subject, we 
 must leave the reader to determine the respective limits of rea 
 son and instinct ; having nothing further to offer to his aid, 
 excepting the lines of Prior, who thus sums up the whole 
 case :
 
 318 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 " Evil like us they shun, and covet good ; 
 Abhor the poison, and receive the food. 
 Like us they love or hate ; like us they know 
 To joy the friend, or grapple with the foe. 
 With seeming thought their action they intend, 
 And use the means proportioned to the end ; 
 Then vainly the philosopher avers 
 That reason guides our deeds, and instinct theirs. 
 How can we justly different causes frame, 
 When the effects entirely are the same ? 
 Instinct and reason how can we divide ? 
 Tis the fool s ignorance aud the pedant s pride." 
 
 If the subordinate animals are happy in their allotted 
 measure of intelligence or instinct, it is almost more than can 
 be affirmed of " imperial man," for, with his increased mental 
 acquisitions, does he not too often add to his infelicities ? If 
 this be not true, why did one of our poets suggest : 
 
 " If ignorance is bliss, tis folly to be wise ?" 
 
 And if we suppose the poet to be the most liberally endowed 
 with the imaginative faculty, why is he usually so poorly clad, 
 and so poorly domiciled ?
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 
 
 THE "odor of sanctity" which attaches to the office of the 
 Christian ministry has ever claimed and received the deference 
 of mankind. The ancient seers, prophets, and patriarchs who 
 were commissioned to make known the will of the Supreme, 
 under the impulse of a direct inspiration, were regarded as 
 supernaturally endowed, and their utterances deemed oracular. 
 Of this illustrious order of priesthood were Noah, Abraham, 
 Moses, and Isaiah of the ancient world ; and in riper times, 
 -the Divine Redeemer with his Apostles. A commission 
 divinely authorized and invested with such moral grandeur, 
 demands a corresponding elevation of character intellectual, 
 moral, and religious in those who assume its functions ; and 
 the world naturally looks for these accessories. 
 
 "A parson," writes George Herbert, "is the deputy of 
 
 81 J
 
 320 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Christ for the reducing of man to the obedience of God." He 
 farther quaintly adds, " His apparel is plain, but reverend, and 
 clean without spots or dust ; the purity of his mind breaking 
 out and dilating itself, even to his body, clothes, and habita 
 tion." This remark of Herbert probably originated the saying 
 that " cleanliness is next to godliness." 
 
 Some regard the clerical profession with a blind, supersti 
 tions reverence these are the victims of priestcraft. There 
 are others, with equal absurdity, who deem it the asylum of 
 infatuation and indolence these are the skeptical and profane. 
 A third class are those who appreciate its worth, and who 
 venerate the sacred office, regarding it as Heaven s expedient 
 for securing the moral elevation and happiness of the race an 
 institution of the highest importance to man s present and 
 eternal well-being. The history of the Pulpit is fertile of inte 
 rest. It has spoken in tones of melting tenderness to the 
 penitent, thundered its denunciations against the prevalence of 
 vice ; to the one it has brought down " airs from heaven," to 
 the other " blasts from hell." All nations and climes it has 
 sought to reclaim, anneal, and bless : and many of the mighty 
 minds of all times have yielded willing obedience to its teach 
 ings and its claims. It has triumphed throngh the long ordeal 
 of persecution all the mightier for the mastery it has achieved 
 over the malice of its foes. 
 
 It is not necessary for us to analyse the various types of the 
 clerical character the ascetic and monkish, the devout and 
 devoted, or the ludicrous and the hireling. Each has left 
 its impress, and, with the exception of the latter, has 
 achieved much for the good of mankind. We do not however 
 include in our category the Jesuitical monk, any more than the 
 hireling ; both are the negation of all that is good. There are 
 further subdivisions however among the pure types, such as the 
 cheerful and the morbid. A recent writer on the subject 
 observes: "The spiritual heroism of Luther, the religious 
 gloom of Cowper, and the cheerful devotion of Watts, are but
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 321 
 
 varied expressions of one feeling, which, according to the frail 
 conditions of humanity, has its healthy and its morbid phase, 
 its authentic and its spurious exposition, and it is no more 
 to be confounded in its original essence with its imperfect deve 
 lopment and representatives, than the pure light of heaven wit.h 
 the accidental media which color and distort its rays. The 
 prestige of the clerical office is greatly diminished, because 
 many of its prerogatives are no longer exclusive. The clergy, 
 at a former period, were the chief scholars ; learning was not 
 its distinctive quality more than sanctity." 
 
 This monopoly no longer obtains : the press has annihilated 
 it. " Independent of the priestly rights, a clergyman, in past 
 times, represented social transitions, and ministered to intellec 
 tual wants, for which we of this age have adequate provision 
 otherwise ; so that the most zealous advocate of reform, doc 
 trine, or ethical philosophy, is no longer obliged to* have 
 recourse to the sacerdotal office in order to reach the public 
 mind. This apparent diminution of the privileges of the order, 
 however, does not invalidate, but rather simplifies its claims." 
 
 It is reduced to its normal state now. Notwithstanding 
 this, it is to be admitted, that the intellectual and moral power 
 of the modern pulpit suffers by comparison with the past. A 
 recent writer in the London Times remarks : " Pulpit eloquence 
 has fallen to a very low ebb. With the finest theme in the 
 world before them with all the hopes and anxieties which agi 
 tate the human breast during the brief interval which separates 
 the cradle from the grave as their subject, our preachers miss 
 their opportunity. Are there extant, in print, collections of 
 sermons by twelve living divines from the perusal of which any 
 one would rise a more thoughtful or a better man ? "We think 
 of the Taylors, Barrows, Souths, who have produced works of 
 this kind which are still operative for good, although a couple 
 of centuries may have passed away since their composition, 
 and wonder what it can be in the constitution of modern society 
 which has so completely dulled the capacities of our spiritual 
 
 14*
 
 322 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 teachers. * * * \y e ask for no polished periods, for no 
 finished compositions, but simply for burning thoughts, couched 
 in simple and homely phrase, such as those which in other days 
 drew men from earth to heaven." 
 
 That the embassy with which the Christian minister is 
 charged is one of difficulty is undeniable, for it has to contend 
 against the moral forces constantly in operation in the human 
 heart, which are antagonistic to its claims. Yet the sublimity 
 and celestial grandeur of its character may well fire the zeal 
 of its advocate, and render him superior to all opposition. 
 Panoplied with the armory of Heaven, with the oracles of 
 Divine truth for his exhaustless treasury, and the accompanying 
 power of Him, 
 
 " Who touched Isaiah s hallowed lips with fire, ; 
 
 for his guidance, what may he not be expected to achieve for 
 the moral subjugation of the world ? 
 
 There is certainly a vast difference between the ancient 
 preachers and the modern ; the entire abnegation of self and 
 of the world, their simplicity and earnestness of style, with 
 their wonderful power of reaching the sublime, must, to say 
 the least of it, have been very extraordinary ; and, perhaps, 
 in following the type of the old Apostolic preachers, Bishop 
 Latimer seemed to bo a worthy descendant ; and in him we 
 appear to have the last of the ancients, and the first of the 
 moderns ; although it must be admitted that at times old 
 Bishop Latimer, with others, indulged in terms too gross for 
 modern and polite ears, often preached to the common people 
 under a tree, his Testament hanging from his leathern girdle ; 
 while the courtly Ridley, in satin and fur, discoursed the same 
 themes in stately cathedrals ;* both, however, were fired with a 
 like zeal. Burnett says of Leighton, that he was a most exem 
 plary character ; having the greatest elevation of soul, the largest 
 compass of knowledge, the most mortified and heavenly dispo- 
 
 * Bingham s Autobiography.
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 323 
 
 sition, that he ever saw in mortal. Of this class were 
 Andrews, Cranmer, Jeremy Taylor, South, Luther, Bossuet, 
 and Massillon. Matthew Henry once said, that " the Christian 
 ministry is the worst of all trades, but the best of all pro 
 fessions." 
 
 Till Cranmer distributed and chained the Bible to every 
 reading desk of the parochial churches of England, a few pas 
 sages of Scripture inscribed on the walls were the only conso 
 lations of humble Christians. 
 
 Among the early Christians, the modern style of preaching 
 was reversed ; the preacher generally delivered his exhorta 
 tion in a sitting posture, while the congregation heard him 
 standing. Chrysostom preached in this manner. Men wore 
 their heads covered in the church, in the time of Elizabeth. 
 Laud alludes to the fact. The habit has been traced to the 
 Hebrew Synagogue. Our Lord sat and disputed among the 
 doctors in the Temple. Public expression of approval by the 
 audience was made by tossing up their garments, or waving 
 their plumes, in the times of Chrysostom and Jerome. 
 
 It is related .even of Constantino the Great, that he did not 
 resume his scat during a long sermon, by Eusebius, and that 
 all the assembly followed his example. 
 
 In the thirteenth century, the Anglo-Norman clergy, accord 
 ing to the Abbe de la Rue, used the vehicle of verse for their 
 sermons. In the Library of the Royal Society of London is 
 preserved a sermon of this kind. One of these rhyming ser 
 mons was printed in Paris, 1834, entitled Un Sermon en vers, 
 public pour la premiere fois, par Acldlle Jubenal. 
 
 The title of clergy, given originally by St. Peter to all 
 God s people, was, by Pope Hygiuus, appropriated to the 
 prelates and priests; "condemning," as Milton says, "the 
 rest of God s inheritance to an injurious and alienate condition 
 of laity." The title of Pope was also given to all bishops. 
 The same pontiff (A.D., 138), being the first to adopt it.
 
 324 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Boniface III. induced Phocas, Emperor of the East, iu 606, to 
 restrict its use to the Bishop of Rome. 
 
 The origin of the term minister is thus given in the Curiosi 
 ties of Literature : 
 
 "The Hall of the School of Equity at Poictiers, where the 
 institutes were read, was called La Ministerie. On which 
 head, Florimond de Demond, speaking of Albert Babinot, one 
 of the first disciples of Calvin, after having said he was called 
 The good man, 1 adds, that, because he had been a student of 
 the Institutes of this Ministerie of Poictiers, Calvin and others 
 styled him Mr. Minister ; from whence, afterwards, Calvin 
 took occasion to give the name of Ministers to the pastors of 
 his church." 
 
 The old English name, Parson, is supposed to be a corrup 
 tion of person, the person by eminence. Fuller remarks that 
 the Scriptures give four names to Christians, taken from the 
 four cardinal graces : saints, for their holiness ; believers, for 
 their faith ; brethren, for their love ; disciples, for their 
 knowledge. 
 
 The clergy were originally styled clerks, from the Norman 
 custom of their judges being chosen from the sacred order. In 
 the first century, they were distinguished by the titles of 
 presbyter and bishops. Church music is supposed to have 
 been first introduced by Gregory the Great, A.D., 602. 
 Church-steeples were originally parochial fortresses. 
 
 Sidney Smith thus defines the object of preaching : " It is 
 constantly to remind mankind of what mankind is constantly 
 forgetting ; not to supply tho defects of human intelligence, 
 but to fortify the feebleness of human resolutions ; to recall 
 mankind from the by-paths where they turn, into the path of 
 salvation which all know, but few tread." 
 
 The aims and topics of the Pulpit have been eloquently con 
 densed by Talfourd. We transcribe the passage : 
 
 " The subjects of the Pulpit have never been varied from
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 325 
 
 the day the Holy Spirit visibly descended on the first advo 
 cates of the Gospel in tongues of fire. They are in no danger 
 of being exhausted by frequency, or changed with the vicissi 
 tudes of mortal fortune. They have immediate relation to that 
 eternity, the idea of which is the living soul of all poetry and 
 art. It is the province of the preacher of Christianity to 
 develop the connection between this world and the next ; to 
 watch over the beginning of a course that will endure forever, 
 and to trace the broad shadows cast from imperishable reali 
 ties on the shifting scenery of earth. This sublunary sphere 
 does not seem to them as trifling or mean, in proportion as 
 they extend their views onward, but assumes a new grandeur 
 and sanctity, as the vestibule of a statelier and an eternal 
 region. The mysteries of our being, life and death, both in 
 their strange essences and in their sublimer relation, are topics 
 of their ministry. There is nothing affecting in the human 
 conditions, nothing majestic in the affections, nothing touching 
 in the instability of human dignities, the fragility of loveliness, 
 or the heroism of self-sacrifice, which is not a theme suited to 
 their high purposes. It is theirs to dwell on the oldest 
 history of the world ; on the beautiful simplicity of the 
 patriarchal age ; on the stern and awful religion, and marvel 
 lous story of the Hebrews ; on the glorious visions of the 
 prophets and their fulfillment ; on the character, miracles and 
 death of the Saviour ; on all the wonders and all the beauty 
 of the Scriptures. It is theirs to trace the spirit of the bound 
 less and the eternal, faintly breathing in every part of the 
 mystic circle of superstition, unquenched even amidst the most 
 barbarous rites of savage tribes, and all the cold and beautiful 
 shapes of Grecian mould. The inward soul of every religious 
 system, the philosophical spirit of all history, deep secrets of 
 the human heart, when grandest or most wayward, are theirs 
 to search and to develop. Even those speculations which do 
 not immediately affect a man s conduct and his hopes, are 
 theirs, with all their high casuistry ; for in these, at least,
 
 326 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 they discern the beatings of the soul against the bars of its 
 earthly tabernacle, which proves the immortality of its essence, 
 and its destiny to move in freedom through the vast ethereal 
 circle to which it thus vainly aspires. In all the intensities of 
 feelings, and all the realities of imagination, they may find 
 fitting materials for their passionate expostulations with their 
 fellow-men to turn their hearts to those objects which will 
 endure forever." 
 
 The author of the Tin Trumpet makes the following piquant 
 remark: "Some divines are often too deeply read in theology 
 to appreciate the full grandeur and the proper tendencies of 
 religion. Losing the abstract in the concrete, the comprehen 
 sive in the technical, the principal in its accessories. Such are 
 in the predicament of the rustic, who could not see London for 
 the houses." 
 
 Others, claiming to be religious teachers and superiors, might 
 have done better service in a different department of duty. A 
 dull and illiterate leader will produce his kind in those over 
 whom he presides, since he but administers theological opiates 
 to them, confirming them in their apathy, ignorance, and bigotry. 
 How few divines dare venture to become original ; fewer still have 
 we of rational enthusiasts. 
 
 " How comes it," demanded a Bishop of Garrick, " that 
 I, in expounding divine doctrines, produce so little effect upon 
 my congregation, while you can so easily rouse the passions of 
 your auditors by the representation of fiction?" The answer 
 was short and pithy. " Because I recite falsehoods as if they 
 were true, while you deliver truths as if they were fiction." 
 
 Robert Hall, even, admitted that he was tormented with the 
 desire of preaching better than he did. He was for greater 
 earnestness and zeal. It was said of Rowland Hill s preaching, 
 that his ideas, like Baxter s, came hot from the heart. This is 
 effective preaching. Keble sweetly suggests 
 
 " Love, on the Saviour s dying head, 
 
 Her spikenard drops, unblamed. may pour ;
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 827 
 
 May mount his cross, and wrap him dead, 
 
 In spices from the golden shore. 
 Risen, may embalm his sacred name, 
 With all a painter s art, and all a minstrel s flame." 
 
 Steele observes: "When a man has no design but to speak 
 plain truth, he may say a great deal in a very narrow compass." 
 The true pulpit style is that which brings the intellect down 
 through the heart, and melts all its precious metals in that 
 glowing furnace. Prolixity in preaching is an ancient heresy 
 of the priesthood. As if conscious of this weakness, the Greek 
 and Latin fathers used hour-glasses in their pulpits, to 
 admonish them when to wind up. George Herbert says: " The 
 parson exceeds not an hour in preaching, because all ages have 
 thought that a competency." Southey, in his Commonplace 
 Book, cites a passage from the church records, in 1564, of St. 
 Catharine s, Aldgate, London, which is as follows: "Paid for 
 an hour-glass that hanged by the pulpit when the preacher doth 
 make a sermon, that he may know how the hour passeth away." 
 
 A rector of Bilbury, Gloucestershire, was accustomed to 
 preach two hours, regularly turning the glass; it is said that 
 the squire of the parish usually withdrew after the text was 
 announced, smoked his pipe, and then returned to the blessing. 
 
 During the civil wars in England, one Stephen Marshall 
 divided his text into twenty-four parts; one of his hearers, 
 taking the alarm, it is said, started off home for his night-cap 
 and slippers. 
 
 There are few things against which a preacher should be 
 more guarded than prolixity. " Nothing," says Lamont, " can 
 justify a long sermon. If it be a good one, it need not be 
 long; and if it be a bad one, it ought not to be long." Luther, 
 in the enumeration of nine qualities of a good preacher, gives 
 as the sixth, " That he should know when to stop." Boyle has 
 an essay on patience under long preaching. " This was never 
 more wanted," said Jay, of Bath, " since the Commonwealth, 
 than now, in our day, especially among our young divines and
 
 328 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 academics, who think their performances can never be too 
 much attended to. I never err this way myself," he said, " but 
 my conviction always laments it; and for many years after I 
 began preaching, I never offended in this way. I never surpassed 
 three quarters of an hour at most. I saw one excellency was 
 within my reach it was brevity and I determined to 
 obtain it." 
 
 Geoffrey Chaucer portrays very felicitously the good pastor 
 in the following lines: 
 
 He was a shepherd, and no mercenary, 
 
 And though he holy was and virtuous, 
 
 He was to sinful men full piteous; 
 
 His words were strong, but not with anger fraught: 
 
 A love benignant he discreetly taught. 
 
 To draw mankind to heaven by gentleness 
 
 And good example, was his business. 
 
 Cowper thus indicates what a true parson should be : 
 
 " Simple, grave, sincere, 
 In doctriue uncorrupt, in language plain, 
 And plain in manner, decent, solemn, chaste 
 And natural in gesture, much impressed 
 Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, 
 And anxious, mainly, that the flock he feeds 
 May feel it, too ; affectionate in spirit, 
 And tender in address, as well becomes 
 A messenger of grace to guilty man." 
 
 "A good preacher," observes an old writer, "is one who 
 makes all his hearers feel not one who merely gratifies the 
 learned or awakes the idle." He has been compared to the 
 English verb, to be, to do, and to suffer. 
 
 Among uneducated pastors, John Bunyau is the most prominent 
 for earnestness, simplicity, and zeal. It is remarkable that lie 
 received the first license from the English government to preach 
 in the times of the Non-conformists. It was dated the 9th of
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 329 
 
 May, 1672. Who would not have wished to have seen him in his 
 rude pulpit, and to have listened to his impassioned harangues? 
 Doubtless, he prized his privilege, and valued his mission the more 
 for the sufferings he endured on their behalf. 
 
 " When such a man. familiar with the skies, 
 Has filled his urn where the pure waters rise: 
 And once more mingles with us meaner things, 
 Tis e en as if an angel shook hia wings." 
 
 It has been observed that every sermon should have a topic, 
 as well as a text. The topic should be naturally drawn from 
 the text; well chosen, well stated, well arranged, well argued, 
 well illustrated, and well applied. It is important, too, for all 
 these ends, that it should be well expressed. 
 
 The selecting of a text seems to have originated with Ezra. 
 Previous to that time, the patriarchs delivered in public assem 
 blies either prophecies or moral instructions for the edification 
 of the people. It was not until after the return of the Jews 
 from Babylonish captivity, during which period they had almost 
 lost the language in which the Pentateuch was written, that it 
 became necessary to explain as well as to read Scripture to 
 them a practice adopted by Ezra, and since universally fol 
 lowed. In latter times, the book of Moses was thus read in the 
 Synagogue every Sabbath day. To this custom the Saviour 
 conformed, and in a Synagogue, at Nazareth, read passages 
 from the Prophet Isaiah; then closing the book, returned it to 
 the priest, and preached from the text. The custom, which 
 now prevails all over the Christian world, was interrupted in 
 the dark ages, when the ethics of Aristotle were read in many 
 churches, on Sunday, instead of the Holy Scriptures. 
 
 The following are among the instances of wit in choosing texts. 
 It is said that Melanchthon on some occasion arose to preach a 
 sermon on the text, "I am the good shepherd." On looking 
 around upon his numerous audience, his natural timidity over 
 came him, and he could only repeat the text over and over
 
 330 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 again. Luther, who was in the desk with him, at length 
 exclaimed, "You are a very good sheep!" and telling him to 
 sit down, took the same text, and preached an excellent discourse 
 from it. 
 
 Robert Hall, on one occasion, being disgusted by the egotism 
 and conceit of a preacher, who, with a mixture of self-complacency 
 and impudence, challenged his admiration of a sermon, was pro 
 voked to say, " Yes, there was one very fine passage iu your dis 
 course, sir." " I am rejoiced to hear you say so which 
 was it ?" " Why, sir, it was the passage from the. pulpit to f./it. 
 restry." 
 
 What a sermon should be, may be gathered from the 
 following: 
 
 "Ir should be brief; if lengthy, it will steep 
 Our hearts in apathy, our eyes in sleep ; 
 The dull will yawn, the chapel-lounger doze, 
 Attention flag, and memory s portals close. 
 
 It should be warm, a living altar-coal, 
 To melt the icy heart and charm the soul; 
 A sapless, dull harangue, however read, 
 Will never rouse the soul, or raise the dead. 
 
 It should be simple, practical, and clear; 
 No fine-spun theory. to please the ear; 
 No curious lay to tickle lettered pride, 
 And leave the poor and plain unedified. 
 
 It should be tender and affectionate, 
 As His warm theme who wept lost Salcm s fate; 
 The fiery laws, with words of love allayed, 
 Will sweetly warm and awfully persuade. 
 
 It should be manly, just, and rational, 
 Wisely conceived, and well expressed withal; 
 Not stuffed with silly notions, apt to stain 
 A sacred desk, and show a muddy brain.
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 331 
 
 It should be mixed with many an ardent prayer, 
 To reach the heart, and fix and fasten there; 
 When God and man are mutually addressed, 
 God grants a blessing, man is truly blessed. 
 
 It should be closely, well applied at last, 
 To make the moral nail securely fast; 
 Thou art the man, and thou, alone, wilt make 
 A Felix tremble, and a David quake!" 
 
 Luther said: "Prayer, meditation, and temptation, make a 
 minister." Another vigorous phrase of his is well known, 
 " Bern orasxe, bene sluduisse," to pray well, is to study well. 
 Prayer, is not, however, the solemn duty of the clergy alone, 
 but of all; the common privilege of dependent creatures. An 
 old writer has quaintly, but very truly, said: " God looks not 
 at the oratory of our prayers, how eloquent they are; nor at 
 their geometry, how long they are; nor at their arithmetic, how 
 many they are ; nor at their logic, how methodical they are ; but 
 he looks at their sincerity, how spiritual they are." 
 
 We are as much under law to religion as to morals; as 
 Longfellow very beautifully expresses it: "Morality, without 
 religion, is only a kind of dead reckoning an endeavor to 
 find our place on a cloudy sea, by measuring the distance we 
 have to run, but without any observation of the heavenly bodies." 
 
 "Oratio est clavis diei, et sera noctis," the key of the day, and 
 the lock of the night, is prayer. This was the beautiful saying 
 of one of olden time, and it is fragranf for all seasons. 
 
 In the exercise of the clerical function, it is not surprising 
 that certain idiosyncrasies of character should occasionally be 
 observable. Many prominent names might be cited as illustra 
 tive of the fact, such as Dean Swift, Sydney Smith, Lawrence 
 Sterne, and Rowland Hill, with numerous imitators. During the 
 reign of Charles II., it was the fashion to indulge to excess the 
 habit of humorous preaching. Sterne seems to have revived the 
 custom, and South s discourses sparkle perpetually with wit and 
 pun. From the fourteenth to the sixteenth centuries, the pul-
 
 332 SALAD FOR TUK SOCIAL. 
 
 pit was characterized by its rudeness of address, jocularity, and 
 even indelicacy. These abuses have been perpetuated in later 
 times, and even in our own, some have been found not altogether 
 innocent of the charge. Another questionable feature of the 
 clerical character, in bygone times, was that of gluttony and 
 intoxication; when persons seemed to evince at least as much 
 devotion to the flesh as the spirit, their own stomachs as the 
 souls of their people.* 
 
 This defection in the ministerial order obtained to a compara 
 tively recent period. The "sporting parson" was, also, once 
 the representative of a recognized class in England, for the 
 pampered monk of the Latin Church was scarcely less notorious. 
 Happier days have since dawned upon the Church. These 
 excrescences required lopping off, and it is to be regretted 
 they ever formed upon the noble tree of Protestantism. 
 
 The term Protestantism reminds us of the prompt answer 
 which was given by Wilkes, who, being asked by a Romanist, 
 " Where was your church before Luther ?" replied, " Where was 
 your face before you washed it, this morning ?" 
 
 The austerity and asceticism of the monk seem scarcely less 
 consistent. It is not necessary that either extreme should be 
 indulged ; a cheerful piety is the true characteristic. "Cheerfulness 
 is the best hymn to the Divinity," according to Addison. When 
 we have passed a day of innocent enjoyment; when "our 
 bosom s lord sits lightly on his throne;" when our gratified 
 feelings, sympathizing with universal nature, make us sensible as 
 John of Salisbury says, that " Gratior el dies, et soles melius nitcnt" 
 we may be assured that we have been performing, however 
 unconsciously, an acceptable act of devotion. Pure religion 
 
 *In the books of Darlington parisli church, the following items appear, showing that, 
 in the olden time, provision was made for comforting the inner man: "Six quarts of 
 sack to the minister who preached when he had no minister to assist, 9s. For a quart 
 of sack bestowed on Jillett, when he preached, 2*. Gd, For a pint of brandy when Mr. 
 George Bill preached here, Is. 4d. For a stranger who preached, a dozen of ale. When 
 the Dean of Durham preached here, spent in a treat in the house, 3s. &d." This would 
 hardly be considered orthodox at the present day.
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 333 
 
 may generally be measured by the cheerfulness of its professors, 
 and superstition by its gloom. Hie placet Deo, cui placet Dcus 
 he to whom God is pleasant, is pleasant to God. A melan 
 choly and morose Christian is an anomaly. 
 
 There is a great difference between occasionally introducing 
 an illustration, which may serve its end, though slightly tinc 
 tured with the comic, and that depraved taste which would 
 desecrate the sacred desk by the exhibitions of buffoonery. A 
 minister should never be insensible to the claims of his mission, 
 as it is taught in that 
 
 " Book, -wherein his Saviour s Testament, 
 Written with golden letters, rich and brave: 
 A work of wondrous grace, and able souls to save." 
 
 Or, as a later poet, Cowper, expresses it 
 
 He that negotiates between God and man, 
 As God s ambassador, the grand concerns 
 Of judgment and of mercy, should beware, 
 Of lightness in his speech. "Tis pitiful 
 To court a grin, when you should woo a soul. 
 To break a jest, when pity would inspire 
 Pathetic exhortation; and to address 
 The skittish fancy with facetious tales, 
 When sent with God s commission to the heart! 
 So did not Paul. 
 
 Pascal has been censured for his irony and invective, while 
 Barrow vindicates the use of these weapons. When plain 
 declarations will not enlighten the mind to discern the truth 
 and importance of things, and when argument is too blunt to 
 penetrate the dulness of the understanding, it is then reason 
 resigns its place to wit in the work of instruction. Willmott 
 further remarks: " this argument is ingenious, yet we may well 
 tremble to think, that as the brilliant epigrams of Pascal have 
 re- appeared in the sparkling sophisms of Gibbon, so the banter 
 ing smile of Jostin may settle into the malevolent sneer of a
 
 334 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 modern Voltaire. If there be any instance of what is called 
 humor in the Bible, it occurs in the meeting of Elijah and the 
 priests of Baal." 
 
 Among humorous and eccentric preachers, Father Andre holds 
 distinguished rank. We cite the following anecdotes relating 
 to him, which, if even already familiar to the reader, may bear 
 repeating. Once, while he was preaching in a country church, 
 a pack of cards jlew out of his sleeve, and fell among the audience. 
 Every one began laughing. The preacher, without being in the 
 least disconcerted, called on the larger children that happened 
 to be there, to collect them together; and as they brought 
 them, inquired how the different cards were called. The answers 
 were promptly given. He then put some questions out of the 
 catechism, which, however, they were unable to reply to. Then 
 addressing the fathers and mothers " Is it thus," said he, 
 " that you neglect the education of your children ? You 
 introduce them into the vanities of life, and by the most crimi 
 nal carelessness permit them to lose their immortal souls." The 
 impression produced was powerful, and every one perceived 
 that the cards were brought purposely to introduce this pathetic 
 appeal. 
 
 Being called upon to announce a subscription in order to raise 
 a sufficient sum to procure the initiation of a young woman into 
 a sisterhood, which was then required of females taking the veil, 
 he commenced his sermon, " Sirs, I am instructed to recommend 
 to your charity a maiden who has not cash enough to take 
 the vows of poverty." The facetious monk once began a ser 
 mon with, " The pope is grass, the king is grass, the queen is 
 grass, the cardinal is grass, you are grass, I am grass all 
 Jlesh is grass." Preaching in a monastery which had recently 
 been struck by lightning, Father Andre expatiated upon the 
 goodness of God, who took, as he would show, special care of 
 his children. " For," said he, " among other evidences, consider 
 what has happened to this holy house, in whicli I am preaching. 
 The lightning struck the library, and consumed it, but injured
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 335 
 
 not a single monk. If, however, it had, unfortunately, fallen 
 upon the dining-room or buttery, how many brethren would have 
 been killed how many tears shed what desolation would have 
 ensued!" 
 
 A certain bishop, in a sermon to his parishioners, repeated 
 the above text "All flesh is grass." The season was Lent, 
 and a few days afterwards, he encountered a parishioner 
 who appeared to have something on his mind. " The top of the 
 mornin to your riverence," said Terence; "did I fairly under 
 stand your riverence to say, All flesh is grass/ last Sunday ?" 
 "To be sure you did," replied the bishop, " and you re a heretic 
 if you doubt it." " Oh, devil a bit do I doubt anything your 
 riverence says," said the wily Terence; "but if your riverence 
 plases, I wish to know whether in this Lent time, I could not 
 be afther having a small piece of bafe, by way of a salad ?" 
 
 Some amusing dilemmas are on record, as the result of 
 using written sermons : we select the following : A clergyman 
 having picked up a homily composed when the plague was 
 raging in London, unconsciously took the choice document 
 with him, one Sunday, to church, and read it to his congrega 
 tion. Towards the close, after having sharply reproved vice, 
 he added, " for these vices it is that God has visited you and 
 your families with that cruel scourge, the plague, which is now 
 spreading everywhere in this town! Hearing this astounding 
 announcement, the people were all so thunderstruck that the 
 chief magistrate was obliged to go to the pulpit, and to ask 
 him, " For God s sake, sir, where is the plague, that I may 
 instantly take measures to prevent its spreading." " The plague, 
 sir ?" replied the preacher, " I know nothing about the plague; 
 but whether it is in the town or not, it is in my homily." 
 
 An eccentric domine, Mathew Byles, of Boston, Mass., in 
 1776, seems to have been as inveterate a joker as Sydney 
 Smith. Upon a Fast Day, Dr. Byles had negotiated an 
 exchange with a country clergyman. Upon the appointed 
 morning, each of them for vehicles were not common then
 
 236 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 proceeded, on horseback to his respective place of appointment. 
 Dr. Byles no sooner observed his brother clergyman approach 
 ing, at a distance, than he applied the whip, put his horse into 
 a gallop, and with his canonicals flying all abroad, passed his 
 friend at full run. " What is the matter 1" he exclaimed, raising 
 his hand in astonishment "Why so fast, Brother Byles 1" to 
 which the Dr., without slackening his speed, replied over his 
 shoulder, "It is fast Day!" 
 
 As he was once occupied in nailing some list upon his doors, 
 to exclude the cold, a parishioner said to him, " the wind blow- 
 eth wheresoever it listeth, Dr. Byles." " Yes, sir," replied the 
 doctor, " and man listeth wheresoever the wind bloweth." 
 
 Dr. Byles was arrested as a tory, and subsequently tried, 
 convicted, and sentenced to confinement on board a guard-ship, 
 and to be sent to England with his family, in forty days. This 
 sentence was changed, by the board of war, to confinement in 
 his own house. A guard was placed over him. After a time, 
 the sentinel was removed, afterwards replaced, and again 
 removed, when the Doctor exclaimed, that he had been guarded, 
 regarded, and disregarded. He called his sentry his observ-a- 
 tory. 
 
 There are some curious stories respecting Fra Rocco, the 
 celebrated Dominican preacher and the spiritual Joe Miller 
 of Naples. On one occasion, it is related he preached a 
 penitential sermon, and introduced so many illustrations of ter 
 ror that he soon brought his hearers to their knees. While they 
 were thus showing every sign of contrition, he cried out, "Xow, all 
 of you who sincerely repent of your sins, hold up your hands." 
 Every man in the vast multitude immediately stretched out 
 both his hands. " Holy Archangel Michael," exclaimed Rocco, 
 " thou who with thine adamantine sword standest at the right 
 of the judgment seat of God, hew me off every hand which has 
 been raised hypocritically." In an instant every hand dropped, 
 and Rocco, of course, poured forth a fresh torrent of eloquent 
 invective against their sins and their deceit.
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 337 
 
 The two celebrated divines and scholars, doctors South and 
 Sherlock, were once disputing on some religious subject, when 
 the latter accused his opponent of using his wit in the contro 
 versy. " Well," said South, " suppose it had pleased God to 
 give you wit, what would you have done ?" 
 
 Among the eccentricities of the pulpit, w r e ought not to omit 
 the ingenious temperance lecture ascribed to Mr. Dodd, of 
 Cambridge, England. On one occasion, when challenged to 
 preach against drunkenness, it is related that he delivered the 
 following unpremeditated short sermon, under a tree, by the 
 road-side, from the word malt. He commenced by stating that 
 he had chosen a short text, which could not be divided into 
 sentences, there being none; nor into words, there being but 
 one; he therefore divided it into letters, thus: 
 
 M, is moral 
 
 A, is allegorical, 
 
 L, is literal, 
 
 T, is theological, 
 
 His exposition ran as follows: the moral is to teach you good 
 manners; therefore, M, my masters, A, all of you, L, leave off, 
 T, tippling. The allegorical is, when one thing is spoken of, 
 and another meant. The thing spoken of is malt, the thing 
 meant is the spirit of malt, which you make, M, your meat, A, 
 your apparel, L, your liberty, and T, your trust. The literal 
 is, according to the letters, M, much, A, ale, L, little, T, trust. 
 The theological is, according to the effects it works in some, M, 
 murder, in others, A, adultery, in all, L, looseness of life, and in 
 many, T, treachery. 
 
 The following curious string of puns is taken from a scarce 
 work, published in the reign of James the First. A divine, 
 more willing to play with words than to be serious in expound 
 ing his text, spoke thus in his sermon: "This dial shows that 
 we must die all; yet, notwithstanding, all houses are turned 
 into ale-houses ; our cares are turned into cates ; our Paradise, 
 
 15
 
 338 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 iuto a pair 6* dice ; matrimony into a matter o money ; and mar 
 riage into a merry age. Our divines have become dry vines ,- it 
 was not so in the days of Noah ah no !" 
 
 A certain minister had a custom of writing the heads of his 
 discourse on small slips of paper, which he placed on the Bible 
 before him, to be used in succession One day, when he was 
 explaining the second head, he got so excited in his discourse, 
 that he caused the ensuing slip to fall over the edge of the pul 
 pit, though unperceived by himself. On reaching the end of his 
 second head, he looked down for the third slip; but, alas! it 
 was not to be found. " Thirdly," he cried, looking round him 
 with great anxiety. After a little pause, " Thirdly," again he 
 exclaimed; but still no thirdly appeared. Thirdly, I say, my 
 brethren," pursued the bewildered clergyman; but not another 
 word could he utter. At this point, while the congregation 
 were partly sympathising in his distress, and partly rejoicing in 
 such a decisive instance of the impropriety of using notes in 
 preaching which has always been an unpopular thing in the 
 Scotch clergy, an old woman rose up, and thus addressed the 
 preacher: "If I m no mista en, sir, I saw thirdly flee out at 
 the east window, a quarter of an hour syne." 
 
 As a quaint specimen of clerical brevity, we offer the follow 
 ing; it is ascribed to an old English divine. The text upon 
 which it was based is to be found in Titus ii. 9. He thus 
 unfolded his doctrine. 
 
 " I. There are three companions with whom you should 
 always keep on good terms. First, Your Wife ; Second, Your 
 Stomach ; Third, Your Conscience. 
 
 " II. If you wish to enjoy peace, long life, and happiness, 
 preserve them by temperance. Intemperance produces: First, 
 Domestic misery ; Second, Premature death ; Third, Infidelity. 
 "To make these points clear, I refer you: First, To the 
 Newgate Calendar ; Second, To the hospitals, lunatic asylums, 
 and work-houses ; Third, To the past experience of what you 
 have seen, read, and suffered, in mind body, and estate.
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 339 
 
 "Hearer, decide! which will you choose? TEMPERANCE, with 
 happiness and long life; or INTEMPERANCE, with misery and pre 
 mature death ?" 
 
 Frederick the Great being informed of the death of one of 
 his chaplains, a man of considerable learning and piety, deter 
 mined that his successor should not be behind him in these 
 qualifications, took the following method of ascertaining the 
 merits of one of the numerous candidates for the appoint 
 ment : ; He told the applicant that he would himself furnish 
 him with a text the following Sunday, when he was to preach 
 at the royal chapel, from which he was to make an extempore 
 sermon. The clergyman accepted the proposition. The whim 
 of such a probationary discourse was spread abroad widely, 
 and at an early hour the rojal chapel was crowded to excess. 
 The king arrived at the end of the prayers, and on the candi 
 date s ascending the pulpit, one of his majesty s aides-de-camp 
 presented him with a sealed paper. The preacher opened it, 
 and found nothing therein. He did not, however, lose his 
 presence of mind ; but turning the paper on both sides, he 
 said : " My brethren, here is nothing, and there is nothing ; 
 out of nothing God created all things ;" and proceeded to 
 deliver a most admirable discourse upon the wonders of Crea 
 tion. 
 
 Louis XIV. said one day to Massillon, after hearing him 
 preach at Versailles : " Father, I have heard many great ora 
 tors in this chapel ; I have been highly pleased with them ; but 
 for you, whenever I hear you, I go away displeased with myself, 
 for I see more of my own character." This has been con 
 sidered the finest encomium ever bestowed upon a preacher. 
 
 When Massillon ascended the pulpit, on the death of that 
 prince, he contemplated for a moment the impressive spectacle 
 the chapel draped in black the magnificent mausoleum 
 raised over the bier the dim but vast apartment filled with 
 the trophies of the glory of the monarch, and with the most 
 illustrious persons in the kingdom. He looked down on the
 
 340 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 gorgeous scene beneath, then raised his arms to heaven and 
 said, in a solemn, subdued tone, " Mcs freres, Dieu seul est 
 grand . " " God only is great." With one impulse, all the 
 audience rose, turned to the altar, and reverently bowed. 
 
 When Dr. Hussey preached at Watford, on the small num 
 ber of the elect, he asked, " Whether, if the arch of heaven 
 were to open, and the Son of Man should appear to judge his 
 hearers, it were quite certain that one of us," he exclaimed in 
 a voice of thunder, " would be saved ?" During the whole of 
 this apostrophe, the audience was agonized. At the ultimate 
 interrogation, we are told, there was a general shriek, and 
 some fell to the ground. 
 
 M. Brideine, a French missionary, and the peer of the most 
 renowned orators of that eloquent nation, preached a sermon 
 at Bagnole. At the end of it, he lifted up his arms, and thrice 
 cried in a loud voice, " 0, Eternity !" At the third repetition 
 of this awful cry, the whole audience fell upon their knees. 
 During three days, consternation pervacled the town. In the 
 public places, young and old were heard crying aloud, " 
 Lord, mercy !" 
 
 Rather a remarkable incident is related of the preaching of 
 the venerable Dr. Beecher. Many years ago he was engaged 
 to officiate in Ohio ; it was in the depth of winter, and the 
 roads were nearly impassable with snow, yet the doctor pur 
 sued his journey, and, on reaching the church, found not a 
 single individual there. With his characteristic decision of 
 purpose, he ascended the pulpit, and waited the arrival of his 
 congregation. One solitary person at length entered, and the 
 doctor commenced the service. At the conclusion, he has 
 tened to greet his auditor, but he had vanished. Some score 
 of years subsequently the parties accidentally met, when the 
 pleasing fact was communicated to the doctor, that that ser 
 mon had proved the. means of his conversion, and that he 
 had since become himself a minister over a large congrega 
 tion.
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 341 
 
 The following anecdote illustrates the peculiarities of charac 
 ter of Western pioneer life, as well as of a -certain "presiding 
 elder," Peter Cartwright. When the State of Illinois was 
 admitted into the Union, it was as a free State. Not long 
 after, the question was largely discussed whether the Constitu 
 tion of the State should not be so amended as to permit 
 Slavery. Cartwright, who then resided in Tennessee, was a 
 strong opponent of Slavery, and determined to remove to Illi 
 nois to take part in the settlement of the question. So he was 
 appointed " Presiding Elder," over a district about as large as 
 England. He kept his appointments, and after preaching on 
 Sunday, was wont to announce that on Monday he would 
 deliver a " stump speech." He soon became regarded as a politi 
 cian, and no little anger was excited against him. One day 
 coming to a ferry across the river, where he was not personally 
 known, he heard the ferryman holding forth to a crowd in bit 
 ter terms against that " old renegade," prefixing sundry emphatic 
 expletives to that flattering term Pete Cartwright, declaring 
 that he would drown him if he ever came that way. After a 
 while, Peter engaged the ferryman to put him over. They 
 were alone in the boat, and when they had reached the centre 
 of the stream, in full sight of the shore, the preacher, throwing 
 the bridle of his horse over a post, ordered the ferryman to 
 put down his pole. " What is the matter ?" asked the ferry 
 man. " You have just been making free with my name, and 
 threatening to drowu me in the river. I want to give you a 
 chance to do so." " You are Pete Cartwright, are you ?" 
 " My name is Peter Cartwright," replied the preacher. The 
 ferryman, nothing loath, laid down his pole, and the contest 
 began. The preacher proved the better man, and seizing his 
 antagonist by the nape of the neck and the seat of his nether 
 garments, plunged him three times under water. Then holding 
 his head out of the water, he asked, " Did you ever pray ?" " No, 7 
 was the reply. " Then it is time you should. I will teach you. 
 Do you repeat after me, Our Father, who art in Heaven. " The
 
 342 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 ferryman refused, and down went his head under water, and there 
 it was held long enough, as Peter thought, to conquer his reluc 
 tance. He raised him up, and repeated his demand. " Let me 
 breathe," gasped the ferryman. " Give me a few minutes to think 
 about it." "Not a moment," and under went his head again. The 
 inquiry was again put, when the ferryman s head was next 
 raised, "Will you pray now?" "Yes, I ll do anything," and 
 the fellow obediently repeated the Lord s Prayer, after the dic 
 tation of Cartwright. " Xow let me up," he added. "No, 
 not yet," replied the inexorable Peter. " You must make me 
 three promises before I let you up. First, you must promise 
 to pray every night and morning as long as you live; then you 
 must promise to put every Methodist preacher who comes along 
 over the river for nothing; and lastly, you must promise here 
 after to attend every meeting of the Methodists held within 
 four miles of you." The whole transaction took place in full 
 view of the ferryman s comrades on the shore, but the inter 
 vening river insured " fair play," and the ferryman felt himself 
 in Cartwright s hands. He promised faithfully to do all that 
 was demanded of him. The transit across the river was 
 finished; the preacher went on his way; the ferryman kept his 
 word, and in course of time was converted, and became a shin 
 ing light in the church.* Earnest men were these old preach 
 ers. Their souls were firmly convinced of the truth of what 
 they had to say. Rugged in their exterior, like those among 
 whom they mingled, they yet seem to have exhibited much of 
 the stern decision of character and deep-seated piety, that sig 
 nalized the church in the days of the non-conformists. Their 
 self-denial and heroism were none the less noble, because 
 unchronicled; and, although this type of the pioneer missionary 
 is fast fading away, yet the border legends of the West preserve 
 the memory of those who have lived to make the wilderness 
 become a fruitful field, in more senses than one. 
 
 *Rev. Mr. Milburn.
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 343 
 
 Dean Swift was once solicited to preach a sermon for the 
 benefit of the poor. When the time arrived, he arose and 
 selected his text : " He who giveth to the poor lendeth to the 
 Lord." "Xow," said he, "my brethren, if you are satisfied 
 with the security, down with the dust." He then took his 
 seat, and there was an enormous collection. 
 
 The Rev. Sydney Smith, preaching a charity sermon, fre 
 quently repeated the assertion that, of all nations, Englishmen 
 were most distinguished for generosity and the love of their 
 species. The collection happened to be inferior to his expect 
 ations, and he said that he had evidently made a great mistake, 
 for that his expression should have been, that they were dis 
 tinguished for the love of their specie. 
 
 He once said, in speaking of the prosy nature of some ser 
 mons, " they are written, as if sin were to be taken out 
 of man, like Eve out of Adam by putting him to sleep." 
 
 Dr. Barrow once preached so long, that all his congregation 
 dropped off, leaving the sexton and himself alone. The sexton 
 finding the doctor apparently no nearer a conclusion, said to 
 him, " Sir, here are the keys, please to lock up the church, 
 when you get through your discourse." 
 
 Whitfield, when preaching at Princeton, Xew Jersey, detect 
 ing one of his auditory fast asleep, came to a pause, and deli 
 berately spoke as follows : " If I had come to speak to you in 
 my own name, you might question my right to interrupt your 
 indolent repose ; but I have come in the name of the Lord of 
 Hosts " (and accompanying these words with a heavy blow 
 upon the pulpit), he roared out, "and I must and will be 
 heard." This had the effect of awakening the sleeper ; and on 
 his perceiving it, his reverence eyed him significantly, saying, 
 " Aye, Aye, I have waked you up, have I ? I meant to do it." 
 This suggests another similar incident ; we forget the name 
 of the party or the place ; however, the circumstances were as 
 follows. A clergyman was once preaching, in the sultry sum 
 mer-time, when many of his hearers yielded to the soporific
 
 344 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 influence of the weather (or the sermon perhaps both). The 
 domine seeing this drowsy condition of his audience, paused 
 for some time, when the sleepers returning to consciousness, lie 
 thus addressed them, " My good friends, this sermon cost me a 
 good deal of labor, and I do not think you have paid to it tlu; 
 attention it deserves, I shall, therefore, go over it again:" and 
 he was as good as his word. An equally successful expedient 
 was adopted by a minister, in Xew York, not long since, while 
 holding forth to his congregation in a style that ought to 
 have kept them awake ; suddenly he stopped in his discourse, 
 and said, " Brethren, I have preached about half of my sermon, 
 and I perceive that twenty-five or thirty of my congregation 
 are fast asleep. I shall postpone the delivery of the balance 
 of it until they wake up I" There was a dead pause for 
 about five minutes, during which time the sleepers awoke, 
 when the preacher resumed. Another instance might be cited, 
 which proved no less effective. A worthy divine, in a church 
 at Norwich, Connecticut, observing many sleeping, paused 
 awhile, then said, "I come now to the third head of my dis 
 course, to which I ask the serious and candid attention of all 
 who are not asleep" giving a marked and peculiar emphasis 
 to the last word. 
 
 A preacher in the time of James I. being appointed to hold 
 forth before the Vice-Chancellor and heads of Colleges at 
 Oxford, chose for his text, " What, cannot ye watch for one 
 hour ?" which carried a personal allusion, as the Vice-Chancel 
 lor happened to be asleep. The preacher repeated his 
 text in an emphatic manner at the end of every division 
 of his discourse, the unfortunate Yice-Chancellor as often 
 awoke, and this happened" so often that at last all present 
 could very well see the joke. The Vice-Chancellor was so 
 nettled at the disturbance he had met with, and the talk it 
 occasioned, that he complained to the Archbishop of Canter 
 bury, who immediately sent for the young clergyman, to reprove 
 him for what he had done. In the course of the conference
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 345 
 
 which ensued between the archbishop and the preacher, the 
 latter gave so many proofs of his wit and good sense, that his 
 grace procured him the honor of preaching before the king. 
 Here also he had his joke. He gave out his test in these 
 words, " James the First and Sixth, Waver not ; " which, of 
 courst 1 , everybody present saw to be a stroke at the indecisive 
 character of the monarch. James, equally quicksighted, ex 
 claimed, " He is at me already." But he was, upon the whole, 
 so well pleased with this clerical wag as to make him one of 
 his chaplains in ordinary. He afterwards went to Oxford, and 
 preached a farewell sermon on the text, " Sleep on now, and 
 take your rest." 
 
 The sin of sleeping during service time is of no modern 
 date. In Henry Seventh s chapel, Westminster Abbey, there 
 are ingeniously contrived chairs, for preventing the drowsy 
 monks indulging a nap. These chairs are pleasant enough if 
 you preserve your balance, but if you should become oblivious, 
 you suddenly find yourself on the middle of the floor. 
 
 A minister of the "Kirk" of Scotland, once discovered his 
 wife asleep in the midst of his homily on the Sabbath. So, 
 pausing in the steady, and possibly somewhat monotonous 
 How of his oratory, he broke forth with this personal address, 
 sharp and clear, but very deliberate : 
 
 "Susan !" 
 
 Susan opened her eyes and ears in a twinkling, as did all 
 other dreamers in the house, whether asleep or awake. 
 
 " Susan, I didna marry ye for your wealth, sin ye hae d 
 none ! And I didna marry ye for your beauty, that the hail 
 congregation can see. And if ye have no grace, I have made 
 but a sair bargain ! 1 
 
 Susan s slumbers were effectually broken up for that day. 
 
 A clergyman of Cambridge, Mass., was once in a singular 
 dilemma, according to his own showing : he told his people 
 that if he spoke softly, those at the end of the church would 
 not be able to hear him, and if loud, those near the pulpit 
 
 15*
 
 346 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 would awake ! We have beard of a worse disaster which 
 befell a certain deacon. He fell asleep, and, as is usual in such 
 cases, made repeated inclinations of his head ; when suddenly 
 it rebounded back with such force as to throw his wig into the 
 pew behind him. In his consternation, vainly seeking for 
 his vagrant wig, where it could not be found in his own 
 pew he covered his bald pate with his red silk handkerchief, 
 to the great scandal of the congregation and his own greater 
 dismay. 
 
 A celebrated clergyman once told his parishioners he should 
 reserve the best efforts of his mind for rainy days the worse 
 the weather, the better should be his sermons and he kept 
 his word. The consequence naturally was, that his church was 
 never so well filled as in wet weather, and the harder the rain 
 poured down, the more the people flocked in, until it finally 
 became his practice to include in his prayers, rainy Sundays ! 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Adams of Leominster, was an eccentric char 
 acter. A neighboring minister a mild, inoffensive man 
 with whom he was about to exchange, said to him, knowing 
 the peculiar bluntness of his character " You will find some 
 panes of glass broken in the pulpit window, and possibly you 
 may suffer from the cold. The cushion, too, is in a bad condi 
 tion ; but I beg of you not to say anything to my people on 
 the subject ; they are poor," &c. " Oh no ! oh no ! said Mr. 
 Adams. But ere he left home, he filled a bag with rags, and 
 took it with him. When he had been in the pulpit a short 
 time, feeling somewhat incommoded by the too free circulation 
 of air, he deliberately took from the bag a handful or two of 
 rags, and -stuffed them into the window. Towards the close of 
 his discourse, which was more or less upon the duties of a 
 people toward their clergyman, he became very animated, and 
 purposely brought down both fists with a tremendous force 
 upon the pulpit cushion. The feathers flew in all directions, 
 and the cushion was pretty much used up. He instantly 
 checked the current of his thought, and simply exclaiming,
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 347 
 
 " Why, how these feathers fly !" proceeded with his sermon. 
 He had fulfilled his promise of not addressing the society on 
 the subject, but had taught them a lesson not to be misun 
 derstood. On the next Sabbath the window and cushion were 
 found in excellent repair. 
 
 Dean Swift has the following pointed remarks about absentees 
 from church. " There is no excuse so trivial that will not pass 
 upon some men s consciences, to excuse their attendance at the 
 public worship of Grod. Some are so unfortunate as to be 
 always indisposed on the Lord s day, and think nothing so 
 unwholesome as the air of a church. Others have their affairs 
 so oddly contrived as to be always unluckily prevented by 
 business. With some it is a great mark of wit and deep under 
 standing to stay at home on Sabbath. Others again discover 
 strange fits of laziness, which seize them particularly on that 
 day, and confine them to their beds. Others are absent out 
 of mere contempt for religion. And, lastly, there are not a 
 few who look upon it as a day of rest; therefore claim the 
 privilege of their cattle, to keep the Sabbath by eating, drink 
 ing, aud sleeping, after the toil and labor of the week. 
 
 The celebrated Robert Hall once visited London, for the 
 purpose of hearing Dr. John W. Mason, of New York, deliver 
 a discourse before the London Missionary Society. The extra 
 ordinary effect which the masterly address of Mason had pro 
 duced, was the theme, for the time, of general observation, and 
 Mr. Hall was among the most enthusiastic of its admirers. 
 Shortly afcer his return to Leicester, a certain reverend gentle 
 man made him an accidental visit, when Mr. Hall requested 
 him to officiate in his pulpit that evening, assigning, as a rea 
 son, that he had just returned from London, oppressed with a 
 sense of the wonderful eloquence of Dr. Mason of Xew York. 
 The visitor affected great desire to be excused preaching before 
 so distinguished a scholar as Mr. Hall. The latter, however, 
 would take no denial, insisting that if he would not preach, his 
 people would have no sermon that evening. Our clerical friend,
 
 348 SALAD FOll TIIK SOCIAL. 
 
 who is described as " a little pompous personage, as round as 
 a sugar-barrel a man of great verbosity, and paucity of 
 thought," at length overcame his scruples, and ascended the pul 
 pit. At the close of the services, Mr. Hall, with great warmth of 
 feeling, thanked him heartily for his discourse ; which, he said, 
 had given him more comfort than any sermon he had ever 
 heard in his life. This assertion inflamed the vanity of the one, 
 and superinduced the sarcasm of the other. The former, with 
 ill-concealed eagerness, urged Mr. Hall to state what there was 
 in the effort that afforded him so much pleasure. He replied, 
 " Sir, I have just returned from hearing that great man, Dr. 
 Mason, of Xew York. Why, Sir, he is my very beau ideal of 
 a minister ; he reminds me more strongly than any other of 
 our day, of what one might suppose the Apostle Paul to have 
 been. Such profound thought, such majesty of diction, and 
 such brilliancy of illustration, I have never heard equalled; and 
 it left me with such an overpowering conviction of my own 
 insignificancy, that I had resolved never to enter the pulpit 
 again," and rising up, he energetically exclaimed, " But thank 
 God, I have heard you, Sir, and I feel myself a man again !" 
 
 A certain noviciate once called upon Mr. Hall, to solicit his 
 advice upon what he considered a very important matter ; to 
 wit, his supposed call to the ministry. This gentleman stated 
 that he was impressed with the idea that it was his duty to 
 obey that call, but that as yet he could see " no door open." 
 "No matter for that, Sir," said Mr. Hall, "if the Lord has 
 called you, he will open a door." " But, Sir, there is one pas 
 sage of Scripture which causes me much trouble." " "Well, Sir, 
 what is it?" was the reply. "It refers to the hiding of a 
 talent in a napkin." " Oh ! my good fellow," said Mr. Hall, 
 " don t let that give you any concern, this little handkerchief 
 of mine (pulling out his own), would cover a score of such 
 talents as yours." 
 
 It must not, from the foregoing, be inferred that Mr. Hall 
 was accustomed to indulge in such severe sarcasms, excepting
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 349 
 
 when he saw the weakness of the man usurping the place of 
 his sacred vocation. 
 
 Most sermons are short-lived enough, but we have heard of 
 one of extraordinary longevity, and it is said it was eminently 
 productive of good. We refer to a discourse by Dr. Griffin, 
 of J^ew York, which he repeated ninety times. He devoted 
 great pains to it, and revised, and re-revised, it with diligent 
 care. 
 
 Some ministers are more forcible with their hands than 
 their heads. It is reported of a clergyman in a county town, 
 that he was a most powerful preacher, since he is known to have 
 knocked to pieces four pulpit Bibles in less than two years. 
 
 The Rev. Hamilton Paul, a Scottish clergyman, is said to be a 
 reviver of Dean Swift s walk of wit in the choice of texts. For 
 example, when he left the town of Ayr, where he was understood 
 to have been a great favorite with the fair sex, he preached his 
 valedictory sermon from this passage, "and they all fell upon 
 Paul s neck and kissed him." Another time when he was 
 called on to preach before a military company, in green uni 
 forms, he preached from the words, " and I beheld men like 
 trees, walking." He once made serious proposals to a young 
 lady whose Christian name was Lydia. On this occasion, the 
 clerical wit took for his text, " And a certain woman, named 
 Lydia, heard us ; whose heart the Lord opened, that she 
 attended unto the things which were spoken of Paul." He 
 published a volume offacetice under the title of " Paul s Epistle 
 to the Ladies." 
 
 We have heard of a case no less extraordinary, which occurred 
 some fifty years ago, in Virginia. An itinerant preacher being 
 invited to hold forth in one of the early settlements there, took 
 for his text the words "Though after my skin, worms destroy 
 tliis body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." He divided his 
 text into three parts, thus " first, the skin-worms ; secondly, 
 what they done ; and thirdly, what the man seen after he was 
 eaten up."
 
 350 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Some dreary expositors of the Gospel, possibly sent to chal 
 lenge our patience, seem to be endowed with at least one faculty, 
 that of dulling all its bright and beautiful truths; they see 
 things "through a glass, darkly." Good George Herbert sug 
 gests thus charitably our forbearance with such; he says: 
 
 " Do not grudge 
 
 To pick out treasures from an earthen pot ; 
 The worst speak something good. If all want sense, 
 God takes a text and preacheth patience." 
 
 This apology, even, can scarcely be admissible in cases like 
 that last cited; they are, however, happily of rare occurrence. 
 
 The clerk of a retired parish in Northwest Devon, who had 
 to read the first lesson, always used to make a hash of Shad- 
 rach, Meshach, and Abednego; and as the names are twelve 
 times repeated in the third chapter of Daniel, after getting 
 through with them the first time, he afterwards styled them the 
 " aforesaid gentlemen." 
 
 The Rev. Daniel Isaac was both a great wag and a great 
 smoker. " Ah, there you are," cried a lady who surprised 
 him one day, enjoying his pipe, "at your idol again." "Yes, 
 my dear madam," he replied, "I hope you do not find fault 
 with me, for I ought to be commended, as you see I m burn 
 ing it." 
 
 Although this world is " a thorny waste," it seems some 
 good men are not in any hurry to leave it. The llev. John 
 Skinner, of Linshart, Longside, while passing along a street in 
 the village, was met by an old woman, who was in the habit of 
 begging. As was her practice, she made a great solicitation 
 for a half-penny. On feeling his pocket, Mr. Skinner discov 
 ered that he had not a half-penny, but was possessed of a 
 penny-piece, which he handed to the woman. The sum being 
 double what she expected, so excited her gratitude, that she 
 exclaimed: "Lord bless you, sir, and may a that s gude 
 attend your bonny family; and for yourseP, God sen that ye
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 351 
 
 may win to the kingdom o heaven this very night !" " Mony 
 thanks to you, Janet, for your good wishes," said Mr. Skinner ; 
 " but you needna have been so very particular about the time, !" 
 
 An itinerant minister was preaching on a very sultry day, in 
 a small room, and was much annoyed by those who casually 
 dropped in after the service had commenced, invariably closing 
 the door after them. His patience being at length exhausted 
 by the extreme oppressiveness of the heat, he vociferated to an 
 offender, " Friend, I believe if I was preaching in a bottle, you 
 would put the cork in!" 
 
 A specimen of an absent-minded parson may be seen in the 
 following extract from the life of Coleridge, by James Gillman: 
 " The father of the bard and metaphysician was a poor country 
 parson, of a very absent mind. It is said of him, that on one 
 occasion, having to breakfast with his bishop, he went, as was 
 the practice of that day, into a barber s shop to have his head 
 shaved, wigs being then in common use. Just as the operation 
 was completed, the clock struck nine, the hour at which the 
 bishop punctually breakfasted. Roused, as from a reverie, he 
 instantly left the barber s shop, and, in his haste forgetting his 
 wig, appeared at the breakfast table, where the bishop and his 
 party had assembled. The bishop, well acquainted with his 
 absent manners, courteously and playfully requested him to 
 walk into an adjoining room, and give his opinion of a mirror 
 which had arrived from London a few days previously, and 
 which disclosed to his astonished guest the consequences of his 
 haste and forgetfulness." 
 
 We close our Eccentrities of the Pulpit with a few amusing 
 and characteristic anecdotes of Rowland Hill, the well-known, 
 excellent, though eccentric clergyman of London. 
 
 A dissenting minister once complaining of the dealing he met 
 with from an ecclesiastical board, to Rowland Hill, observed 
 that " for his part he did not see the difference between a board 
 and a bench," meaning, that the rule of his board was as 
 stringent as that of the bishops. " Pardon me, my friend,"
 
 352 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 replied Hill, " I will show yon a most essential difference 
 between the two : A board is a bench that has no legs to stand 
 ttpon." 
 
 With many strong points of character, he combined notions 
 prodigiously odd. One of those commonly called Antinomians, 
 one day called on Rowland Hill, to call him to account for his 
 too severe and legal gospel. " Do you, sir," asked Rowland, 
 " hold the ten commandments to be a rule of life to Christians ?" 
 " Certainly not," replied the visitor. The Minister rang the 
 bell, and on the servant making his appearance, he quietly 
 added, "John, show that man the door, and keep your eye on 
 him until he is beyond the reach of every article of wearing 
 apparel, or other property in the hall !" 
 
 He once said, on observing some persons enter his chapel to 
 avoid the rain that was falling, "Many persons are to be blamed 
 for making their religion a cloak ; but I do not think those are 
 much better, who make it an umbrella!" Again, on receiving 
 anonymous letters from some of his congregation, he remarked, 
 "If yon wish me to read your anonymous letters, you must enclose 
 a five-pound note in them for some good charity." On another 
 occasion, he said " I do not want the walls of separation between 
 different orders of Christians to be destroyed, but only lowered, 
 that we may shake hands a little easier over them." 
 
 He was a great observer of the different modes of preaching, 
 and once drew up in his peculiar style, a string of characteris 
 tics of the various kind of pulpit orators. He thus describes 
 them : Bold Manner. The man who preaches what he feels 
 without fear or diffidence. Self -Confident. A man who goes 
 by nobody s judgment but his own. Rash. A preacher who 
 says what comes uppermost, without any consideration. Ram 
 bling. A man who says all that pops in his mind without any 
 connection. Stiff". One who pins himself down to think and 
 speak without any deviation. Powerful. The man who preaches 
 from the bottom of his heart the truth of the Gospel with 
 energy, to the consciences of his people, finical. He who
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 353 
 
 minces out fine words with nothing in them. Sober. The man 
 who lulls you fast asleep. Elegant. The man who employs all 
 his brains upon dressing words, without ever aiming at the heart. 
 Conceited. He who vainly aims at everything, and says nothing. 
 Wehh Manner. A man that bawls out very good things till 
 he can bawl no longer. * * * Dogmatic. A man who goes 
 by his own brains, right or wrong. Peevish. One who picks 
 into everybody s thoughts, and thinks no one right but himself. 
 Fanciful. One who, instead of being led by wisdom, runs after 
 a thousand visionary whimsies and conceits. Self-important. 
 Thinks nobody like himself. Noisy. A. loud roar and nothing 
 in it. He once said of a man who knew the truth, 
 and seemed afraid to preach it in its fullness, " He preaches the 
 Gospel as the donkey mumbles the thistle, very cautiously." 
 Thus much for the illustration of our subject, which is sus 
 ceptible of much greater extension. If eccentricity be occa 
 sionally a concomitant of genius, it is quite worth while to 
 tolerate it if even allied to the clerical profession ; provided it 
 is restricted within proper limits, and is rendered subservient 
 to the interests of truth. If, however, we could have the 
 genius without the eccentricity, it would be more desirable ; 
 because of all places in the wide world, the sanctuary is the 
 most sacred, and those who minister at the altar, should be 
 the most solemn and sincere. 
 
 Yet as Pascal observes, it should not be imagined that the 
 life of a good Christian must necessarily be a life of melancholy 
 and gloominess, for he only resigns some pleasures to enjoy 
 others infinitely greater. 
 
 An old writer asks "Who are the most godlike of men ?" 
 The question might be a puzzling one, unless our language 
 answered it for us the godliest. 
 
 " Religion," said Webster, " is the tie that connects man 
 with his Maker, and holds him to his throne. A man with no 
 sense of religious duty is he whom the Scriptures describe in
 
 354 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 such terse but terrific language, as living without God in the 
 world. " 
 
 The words of Milton may be applied to the possession of 
 that " peace which passeth all understanding," the conscious 
 ness of a coming blissful immortality 
 
 " One sip of this 
 
 Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight 
 Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste." 
 
 The reader is already familiar with the names of those theo 
 logical magnates, Luther, Melanchthon, Calvin, Bullinger, 
 Bucer, Latimer, and Ridley, and a score of others, including 
 Jeremy Taylor, Bates, Isaac Barrow, &c., but he may not be 
 so well acquainted with that of Edward Irving ; we therefore 
 annex the following high tribute to his genius and worth from 
 a critic no less distinguished than Coleridge. He thus speaks 
 of him. " I hold that Edward Irving possesses more of the 
 spirit and purposes of the first Reformers ; that ho has more 
 of the head and heart, the life, the unction, and the genial 
 power of Martin Luther, than any man of this and the last 
 century. I see in Edward Irving a minister of Christ, after the 
 order of Paul." 
 
 Coleridge, referring to the theological literature of the seven 
 teenth century, asserts it as his conviction " that in any half 
 dozen sermons of Donne or Taylor, there are more thoughts, 
 more facts and images, more incitements to inquiry and intel 
 lectual effort, than are presented to the congregations of the 
 present day in as many churches or meetings, during twice as 
 many months. The very length of the discourses, with which 
 these rich souls of wit and knowledge fixed the eyes, ears, and 
 hearts of their crowded congregations, are a source of wonder 
 now-a-days, and we may add, of self-congratulation, to many 
 a sober Christian, who forgets with what delight he himself
 
 PULPIT PECULIARITIES. 355 
 
 has listened to a two-hours harangue on a loan, or tax-bill, or 
 a trial of some remarkable cause or culprit: the transfer of the 
 interest makes and explains the whole difference. For although 
 much may be fairly charged on the revolution in the mode of 
 preaching, as well as in the matter, since the fresh morning 
 and fervent noon of the Reformation, when there was no need 
 to visit the conventicles of fanaticism, in order to, 
 
 " See God s ambassador in pulpit stand, 
 Where they could take notes from his look and hand ; 
 And from his speaking action bear away 
 More sermon, than our preachers used to say." 
 
 The pulpit may be styled the palladium of the world s vir 
 tue the conservator of its liberties, the panacea for its woes, 
 and the prophecy of its future restoration and glory. Its pre 
 rogative is to exert a paramount power over the common heart. 
 Its themes are sublime and momentous the arcana of science 
 are rendered tributary to its teachings, because the works illus 
 trate the Will of the Supreme. This mission of the Gospel, it 
 was tha.t fired the zeal of that worthy of old, whose eloquent 
 appeals " shook Areopagus, and reverberated through the 
 Forum." 
 
 "The Christian priesthood, although the temptation incident 
 to conventional elevation may have served to develope among 
 them many of the subtler forms of evil latent in the undisciplined 
 heart, is yet lustrous with many virtues. What sweetness has 
 baptized the clerical function in the past ! What fortitude, 
 what self-denial, what patience, what labor in season and out 
 of season, have been the heritage of the great mass of these 
 men ! What stores of learning have they accumulated ; what 
 splendid additions have they made to the best literature of 
 every land: how they have enriched the sciences by their obser 
 vation and studious inquiries ; how they havo kept the flame 
 of patriotism aglow ; how they have encouraged the generous
 
 356 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 ambition of youth, and directed it to worthy and useful ends; 
 how they have dignified the family altar, and cherished the 
 purity of woman, and diffused through society the charm of 
 honest and gentle manners ; all these things must be cordially 
 acknowledged by every one competent to speak on the ques 
 tion."* 
 
 * Chapin.
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 
 
 ORIGINALITY has been defined " unconscious or undetected 
 imitation." " As for originality," wrote Byron, in his journal, 
 "all pretensions to it are ridiculous; there is nothing new 
 under the sun. " Moore, once observing Byron with a book 
 full of paper-marks, asked- him what it was. " Only a book," 
 he answered, "from which I am trying to crib; as I do when 
 ever I can, and that s the way I get the character of an 
 original poet." " Though, in imputing to himself premeditated 
 plagiarism," observes his biographer, "he was, of course, but 
 jesting; it was, I am inclined to think, his practice, when 
 engaged in the composition of any work, to excite thus his 
 vein, by the perusal of others on the same subject or plan, 
 from which the slightest hint, caught by his imagination as he 
 read, was sufficient to kindle there such a train of thought as, 
 but for that spark, had never been awakened, and of which he 
 himself soon forgot the source." 
 
 Emerson says an author is original in proportion to the 
 amount he steals from Plato; and to those who are not much 
 
 857
 
 358 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 acquainted with Plato, he thus divulges the secret of much of 
 bis claim to originality. 
 
 Even Seneca complains that the ancients had compelled him 
 to borrow from them, what they would have taken from him, 
 had he been lucky enough to have preceded them. " Every one of 
 my writings," says Goethe, in the same candid spirit, " has 
 been furnished to me by a thousand different persons, a thousand 
 different things; the learned and the ignorant, the wise and the 
 foolish, infancy and age, have come in turn, generally, without 
 having the least suspicion of it, to bring me the offering of their 
 thoughts, their faculties, their experience: often have they sowed 
 the harvest I have reaped. My work is that of an aggregation 
 of human beings, taken from the whole of nature; it bears the 
 name of Goethe." 
 
 " It is in the power of any writer to be original, by deserting 
 nature, and seeking the quaint and fantastical; but literary 
 monsters, like all others, are generally short-lived. When I was 
 a young man, says Goldsmith, being anxious to distinguish 
 myself, I was perpetually starting new propositions; but I soon 
 gave this over, for I found that generally, what was new was 
 false. Strictly speaking, we may be original without being 
 new; our thoughts may be our own, and yet commonplace."* 
 
 On the other hand, it must be admitted with Pollock, that 
 while " the siccaneous critic or the meagre scribbler may hang 
 his head in despair, and murmur out that what can be done is 
 done already; yet he who has drank of Castalia s fount, and 
 listened to the mighty voice of the Parnassian sisters, and who 
 casts his bold eye on Creation, inexhaustible as its Maker, and 
 catches inspiration while he gazes; will take the lyre in his 
 hand, delight with new melody the ear of mortals, and write 
 his name among the immortal in song. A cotemporary.f wri 
 ting on this subject, insists that, " what is often termed origin 
 ality, is more a manufactured article than a natural product. 
 Moore, in dwelling upon the elaborate care with which all the 
 
 * Tin Trumpet. tKuickerbocker.
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 359 
 
 performances of Sheridan were prepared, was led to exclaim, 
 genius is patience. An original thinker may be considered as 
 one who has grown mentally fat upon the food great minds in 
 all ages of the world have afforded him. Montaigne and 
 Emerson, as we have seen, have confessed, with careless frank 
 ness, some of the sources of their originality. 
 
 " Of course i-t is necessary that nature should have furnished 
 a tolerably broad and capacious foundation for mental fatness 
 to be laid upon. It is impossible to make a very fat hog of a 
 Guinea pig. All men have not a disposition, and could not 
 cultivate one, to grapple with the deep and subtle thoughts of 
 profound minds. Books, books, says Bulwer; magnets to 
 which all iron minds insensibly move. Minds of a softer metal, 
 of a less investigating character, do not move in that direction. 
 The mind grows by what it feeds upon, and no man can be an 
 original thinker without a good deal of knowledge. All that 
 was wanting, perhaps, to develop the powers of the village 
 Hampden, the mute, inglorious Milton/ and the guiltless 
 Cromwell, that the country churchyard contained, was know 
 ledge. But knowledge is of no value unless it is well diges 
 ted; and in this respect nature is an infallible guide. Minds, 
 like stomachs, have little relish for food they cannot digest; 
 and there is every variety of strength in the digestive powers of 
 the mind as of the body. 
 
 The same idea is enforced by another writer, in a more face 
 tious strain. He says; "We prey upon the literary produc 
 tions of the past, as we do upon the brains of Italian and 
 French cooks of the present, and while our palates will carry 
 a teeth-watering reminiscence of some favorite dish, concocted 
 by the one, while the tongue which discussed it articulates, is 
 it remarkable that our pates should should retain some of the 
 attic flavor of the former ? Our constitutions are made or 
 unmade by the food we eat. Our brains, by the books we 
 read. Men of great natural genius, and who have not had oppor 
 tunities for much book culture. even as the most bodily healthy
 
 360 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 people, are evidences of the truth that strong, simple food is far 
 superior to the diablerie of modern wizard-cooks, in either case." 
 
 Emerson assumes, that it is the duty and the province of 
 great minds to adopt the thoughts of others to embalm them 
 for futurity to take the roughly hewn blocks from the thought- 
 mines of others and fashion them into mosques, feudal towers, 
 or pyramids, as the loving, chivalrous, or sublime spirit of the 
 builder may suggest. 
 
 This communistic appropriation of ideas this building from 
 another s quarry is a species of /ree-masonry which is qualified 
 entirely by the name of him who is caught in the fact. 
 
 It has been gravely asked who are original thinkers; even 
 those who rank as philosophical writers adopt the opinions of 
 their predecessors some favorite theory of a former age; and 
 having espoused it^ they endorse the new creed with an enthu 
 siasm as zealous as if it were one of their own creation. There 
 are a few noble exceptions to the rule, however, for the honor 
 of learning; the daring Florentine, for instance: a large propor 
 tion of our modern literature might be, with advantage to all 
 parties, suppressed, since it possesses in the main but the ques 
 tionable merit of a metamorphoses. 
 
 The remark ascribed to Pope Ganganclli, that all books in 
 the known world might be comprised in six thousand folio 
 volumes, if filled with original matter was, we think, an 
 extremely liberal estimate. 
 
 One age battens upon its predecessor with gnome-like rapa-. 
 city, and thus a host of pseudo-authors acquire an undeserved 
 reputation. The quaint lines of Chaucer still apply with full 
 
 force 
 
 " Out of the olde fieldes, as men sayeth, 
 
 Cometh all this new corne fro yeare to yeare, 
 So out of olde bookes, in good faith, 
 Cometh all this newe science that men lere." 
 
 Homer,* Dante, Rabelais, and Shakspeare, Chateaubriand 
 
 * Homer s Gardens of Alcinous in the Odyssey, and the Elysium of the JEneiad, were 
 perhaps taken from the Mosaic account of Eden.
 
 1HE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 361 
 
 styles the great universal individualities and great parent 
 geniuses, who appear to have nourished all others. The first 
 fertilized antiquity; JBschylus, Euripides, Sophocles, Horace, 
 Aristophanes, and Virgil were his sons. Dante iii like manner 
 was the father of modern Italy, from Petrarch to Tasso. 
 Rabelais created the literature of France; Montaigne, La 
 Fontaine, Moliere, descended from him; while England owes 
 all to Shakspeare. People often deny the authority of these 
 supreme masters they rebel against them, proclaim their 
 defects, but with as much propriety as one might the spots 
 on the sun s disc; they even accuse them of tediousness, 
 and sometimes absurdity, while in the very act of robbing 
 them and decking themselves iii their spoils. 
 
 The student in his literary progress will derive no small inte 
 rest in discovering, as he inevitably will, if he goes deep 
 enough, the hidden germs of many of the happiest expressions 
 which adorn the pages of our distinguished writers. 
 
 Almost every author of any standing in the ranks of litera 
 ture may be regarded as a borrower, in a greater or less degree, 
 from the commonwealth of letters. Even Shakspeare, Milton, 
 Gray, are frequently indebted to their predecessors in " boke- 
 craft." 
 
 "Shakspeare is more purely original; but it should not 
 be forgotten, that in his time, there was much less to borrow, 
 and that he too has drawn freely and largely from the sources 
 that were open to him, at least, for his fable and graver senti 
 ment : for his wit and humor, as well as his poetry, are always 
 his own. In our times, all the higher walks of literature have 
 been so long and so often trodden, that it is scarcely possible 
 to keep out of the footsteps of some of our precursors; and the 
 ancients, it is well known, have stolen most of our bright 
 thoughts, and not only visibly beset all the patent approaches 
 to glory, but swarm in such ambushed multitudes behind, that 
 when we think we have gone fairly beyond their plagiarisms, 
 and honestly worked out an original excellence of our own, up 
 
 16
 
 362 SALAD FOE THE SOCIAL. 
 
 starts some deep-read antiquary, and makes it out, much to his 
 own satisfaction, that heaven knows how many of these busy- 
 bodies have been beforehand with us, both in the genus and the 
 species of our invention!"* 
 
 While, however, it is allowed that they have freely used the 
 "shadowed thoughts of more obscure authors, it must also 
 be remembered that they have made a noble restitution in pre 
 senting to their readers, not a depreciated capital, but a 
 thought refined, embellished, and stamped with the impress of 
 a brighter genius. 
 
 Some are guilty of grand literary larceny, as many know by 
 experience, and as Hood has so humorously described in the 
 following lines: 
 
 How hard, when those who do not wish 
 
 To lend that s lose their books, 
 Are snared by anglers folks that fish 
 
 With literary hooks. 
 
 Who call and take some favorite tome, 
 
 But never read it through ; 
 They thus complete their set at home, 
 
 By making one of you. 
 
 I, of my Spenser quite bereft, 
 
 Last winter sore was shaken : 
 Of Lamb I ve but a quarter left, 
 
 Nor could I save my Bacon. 
 
 They picked my Locke, to me far more, 
 
 Than Bramah s patent worth ; 
 And now my losses I deplore, 
 
 Without a Home on earth. 
 
 Even Glover s Works I cannot put 
 
 My frozen hands upon, 
 Though ever since I lost my Foote, 
 
 My Bunyan has been gone. 
 
 * Jeffrey.
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 363 
 
 My life is wasting fast away 
 
 I suffer from these shocks ; 
 And though I ve fixed a lock on Gray, 
 
 There s gray upon my locks. 
 
 They still have made me slight return ; 
 
 And thus my grief divide ; 
 For oh ! they ve cured me of my Burns, 
 
 And eased my Akenside. 
 
 But all I think I shall not say, 
 
 Nor let my anger burn ; 
 For as they have not found me Gay, 
 
 They have not left me Sterne. 
 
 Hudibrastic Butler compares a literary plagiarist to an Ita 
 lian thief, that never robs but he murders, to prevent discovery. 
 Another definition, somewhat akin, describes the plagiarist as 
 a "purloiner, who filches the fruit that others have gathered, 
 and then throws away the basket."* 
 
 " Plagiary had not its nativity with printing, but began 
 when the paucity of books scarce wanted that invention. "f 
 After all that may be urged on the score of accidental coinci 
 dences of thought and expression, it cannot be questioned that 
 there has been perpetrated a vast amount of literary fraud 
 
 Could we invoke the spirits of the departed, what pitiless 
 plaints would be preferred against the spoliations of many a 
 modern scribe, who, to avoid the trouble of thinking for him 
 self, has chosen the more summary mode of allowing others to 
 do so for him. Yet, after all, who should complain, when 
 such a vast economy of time and trouble may be achieved by 
 the labor-saving process. A poem, indeed, that formerly occu 
 pied in its construction twenty long years, can thus be pro 
 duced, with scarcely inferior success, in as many minutes ; and 
 the Herculean task that wasted the midnight oil of a devoted 
 life, is now achieved in a few brief hours. 
 
 * Tin Trumpet. t Brown.
 
 364 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 To suppose that fewer instances of moral delinquency have 
 been perpetrated iu the particular department of letters than 
 in any other, would be, to say the least of it, very uuphilo- 
 sophical, since the risk of purloining the fruits of other men s 
 brains with impunity, is unquestionably less than in that of 
 most other depredations. If -the pilferers of the purse are not 
 more amenable to justice than are those who commit like 
 infringements upon the productions of genius, the latter merit 
 a no less rigid requital of rebuke. True, it may be .urged in 
 extenuation, that great scone should be allowed in determining 
 the exact limits of literary property since there must neces 
 sarily exist what is termed the " commonwealth of literature," 
 yet we venture to premise that the most strenuous advocates 
 of the plea, will, in the main, be found to be actuated by 
 motives, no less equivocal in kind, than they are specious iu 
 pretence. 
 
 These literary pilferers are too often adroit and shrewd enough 
 to elude detection. 
 
 A strong resemblance may occur between two writers, if not 
 indeed a strict identity both of ideas and language, which may 
 be purely accidental ; but this must be an occurrence exceed 
 ingly rare. A bold or beautiful thought is sometimes likely 
 so to impress the imagination, as to exist in the memory long 
 after its paternity is forgotten, and thus become ingrafted into 
 the mind so as to seem part of itself ; such a case would cer 
 tainly admit of great extenuation in the criminal code of liter 
 ary jurisprudence. 
 
 A writer, it is observed, may steal after the manner of bees, 
 without wronging anybody ; but the theft of the ant, which 
 takes away the whole grain of corn, is not to be imitated. 
 A French writer* observes, " to take from the ancients, and 
 make one s advantage of what they have written, is like pirat 
 ing beyond the line ; but to steal from one s contemporaries, by 
 surreptitiously appropriating to one s self their thoughts and 
 
 * Vayer.
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 365 
 
 productions, is like picking people s pockets in the open street." 
 And another extract we had marked, insists that, " It is a 
 greater crime to steal dead men s writings, than their clothes." 
 Instances of petty larceny are undoubtedly more numerous 
 than such as may be styled cases of grand literary larceny; and 
 we have even heard it advocated as a meritorious virtue in a 
 writer, when he shall abstract from a previous author some 
 acknowledged beauty, either of rhetoric or thought, and afresh 
 incorporate it as his own, on the plea that a gem may often lie 
 long obscured, and acquire redoubled lustre by the skill of the 
 artist in the resetting." 
 
 The doctrines of expediency do not always run parallel with 
 those of equity and even-handed justice; and since we are com 
 pelled to adjudicate the question by the moral standard, we 
 must allow no meaner motives to govern our decisions in this 
 matter. It is no easy task, amidst the prolific outpourings of 
 the press of our day, to attempt an expose of the many "dread 
 counterfeits of dead men s thoughts " which living plagiarism 
 is continually recasting and sending forth: for, 
 
 This trade of knowledge is replete, 
 As others are, with fraud and cheat- 
 Such cheats as scholars put upon 
 Other men s reason, and their own 
 A sort of drapery, to ensconce 
 Absurdity and ignorance. 
 
 The term plagiarist is derived from the word plagium, used 
 among the Romans to designate a person who abducted a free 
 man for the purpose of selling him as a slave, for which offence 
 the culprit was condemned by the Flavian law, ad plagio, to be 
 whipped. In a metaphorical sense, the word implies theft, and 
 has been since applied to such as appropriate, without due 
 acknowledgment, the thoughts and expressions of an author. 
 
 Plagiarism, like homicide, may be divided into degrees. If 
 the purloiner benefits the estate of literature by his spoliation,
 
 3 GO SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 one is inclined to regard his offence as venial, but when this is 
 not the case, he deserves the full penalty of his misdemeanor. 
 
 " Isot every striking coincidence in thought and illustration, 
 however, is to be denounced as plagiarism. Some of the most 
 admired productions of ancient and modern times are only 
 splendid imitations. Much of the poetry of the last and pre 
 ceding century was moulded after the ancient classics, and 
 abounded in imitations of thought and expression. All this is 
 considered lawful. It has been said that "we are come into 
 the world too late to produce any thing new, that nature and 
 life are pre-occupied, and that description and sentiment have 
 been long exhausted." The same authority allows that "an 
 inferior genius may, without any imputation of servility, pursue 
 the path of the ancients, provided he declines to tread in their 
 footsteps." The extent to which it is warrantable to make use 
 of the intellectual labor of others, how much of their thoughts 
 and illustrations may be employed without endangering moral 
 character and reputation, is not very clearly settled. But with 
 one consent, to steal another s thoughts and language and pass 
 them off as one s own, is an act of which no honorable man 
 would be guilty, and whoever perpetrates it justly forfeits his 
 claim to confidence and respect." 
 
 If direct literary plagiarism has been more rife in modern 
 than in ancient times, yet we are not to suppose that this spe 
 cies of fraud did not exist even with the classic writers. Yida, 
 in his " Art of Poetry," indeed, conducts us to such a conclu 
 sion in justifying an occasional resemblance between two several 
 authors on the same subject: 
 
 " Aspice ut cxuvias vctorumque insignia nobis 
 Aptemus : verum accipimus nunc clara repertum. 
 Nunc seriem atque auimum verhorum quoque ipsa 
 JVec pitdet interditm alteriits nos ore locutos." 
 
 Terence, who has been accused of many depredations, says, 
 " nihil est dictum quod non sit dictum prius."
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 367 
 
 Oue substantial reason why this species of legerdemain was 
 not so much in vogue with the early penmen, is to be ascribed 
 to the fact that detection would almost inevitably follow, from 
 the limited number of manuscripts then in existence compared 
 with the almost countless issues since the era of the press. 
 
 The following exquisite thought, contained in one of the son 
 nets of Petrarch, 
 
 Trcfiro torna: e 1 bel tempo ramcna : 
 E i fiori, e 1 herbe sua dolce familigia,- 
 
 has been more frequently incorporated, or rather imitated, than 
 any gem in the whole wealth of poetry. Milton, who, so to 
 speak, ransacked the three worlds for the materiel of his sublime 
 effusions, so closely resembles the Italian muse, that it is diffi 
 cult to reconcile the coincidence upon any other supposition 
 than that even he borrowed. The couplet referred to in allu 
 sion to his loss of sight, occurs, it will be remembered, in his 
 great epic, 
 
 " Seasons return, but not to me return 
 Day, or the sweet approach of eve or morn." 
 
 He also closely copies Ariosto, in his Vision of Paradise, and 
 Astolpho s Description of the Moon, when he mounts the clouds 
 on the winged horse. Lord Littleton, Waller, Gray, Savage, 
 and Kirke White, discover traces of the same thought, and 
 some invest it in language remarkably analogous. Spenser 
 has also been charged as a close copyist of both Tasso and 
 Ariosto. A similar illustration might also be given, showing 
 the double plagiarism upon a fine passage from Dante, which 
 was first rendered into our vernacular without acknowledg 
 ment by Merivale, and afterwards closely copied by Byron. 
 But we must narrow our limits, or we shall have to invoke 
 among the culprits a host of such other names, as Ford, Decker, 
 Marlow, and Shirley, with our several specifications against
 
 3C8 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 them. We may fairly place in our category of plagiarists, the 
 notorious literary impostors, since they were no less fraudulent. 
 
 Scaliger, was an impostor, since he had never been at any war, 
 nor at any court of the Emperor Maximilian, as he pretended. He 
 passed the first thirty years of his life in one continued study. 
 Afterwards, he threw off his monk s frock, and palmed on all 
 Europe the singular imposition of his being a descendant of 
 the Princes of Verona, who bore the name of Scaligcr. 
 
 One of the boldest and most uncompromising of a very mis 
 chievous class of literary impostors was Annius of Yiterbo. 
 Annius published a pretended collection of historians of the 
 remotest antiquity, some of whoso names had descended to us 
 in the works of ancient writers, while their works themselves 
 had been lost. Afterwards, he subjoined commentaries to con 
 firm their authority, by passages from well-known authors. 
 These, at first, were eagerly accepted by the learned; the blun 
 ders of the presumed editor one of which was his mistaking 
 the right name of the historian he forged were gradually 
 detected, and at length the imposture was apparent. The pre 
 tended originals were more remarkable for their number than 
 their volume, for the whole collection does not exceed one 
 hundred and seventy-one pages, which lessened the difficulty 
 of the forgery; while the commentaries, which were afterwards 
 published, must have been manufactured at the same time as the 
 text. In favor of Annius, the high rank he occupied at the 
 Roman court, his irreproachable conduct, the declaration that he 
 had recovered some of these fragments at Mantua, and that others 
 had come from Armenia, induced many to credit these pseudo- 
 historians. A literary war was soon kindled. One historian 
 died of grief for having raised his elaborate speculations on 
 these fabulous originals; and their credit was at length so much 
 reduced, that Pignoria and Maffei both announced to their 
 readers that they had iiot referred in their works to the pre 
 tended writers of Annius. Yet, to the present hour, these 
 presumed forgeries are not always given up. The problem
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 309 
 
 remains unsolved; and the silence of Annius in regard to the 
 forgery, as well as what he affirmed when alive, leave us in 
 doubt as to whether he really intended to laugh at the world 
 by these fairy tales of the giants of antiquity. Sanchoniathon, 
 as preserved by Eusebius, may be classed among these ancient 
 writings as a forgery, and has been equally rejected and 
 defended. 
 
 It should not be forgotten that the statements of Annius 
 received a supposed continuation in some pretended remains of 
 antiquity which were dug up in the grounds of the Inghirami 
 family. These remains which were Etruscan consisted of 
 inscriptions, and some fragments of an ancient chronicle. Cur- 
 tius Inghirami had no doubt of their authenticity and published 
 a quarto volume of more than 1000 pages in their support. 
 
 The imposture of Joseph Vella will be long remembered. 
 Being at Palermo in 1782, he accompanied the ambassador 
 from Morocco in a visit which that diplomatist made to the 
 Abbey of St. Martin, and where he was admitted to see a very 
 ancient Arabic manuscript. Being aware of the desire which 
 existed to find in the Arabic writings materials for the comple 
 tion of the history of Sicily, in which there was a gap of two 
 centuries, Yella took the hint, and, after the departure of the 
 ambassador, asserted that he had found in the library of the 
 Abbey a precious manuscript containing the correspondence 
 between the Arabian governors of Sicily and the sovereigns of 
 Africa. 
 
 To confirm the authenticity of this pretended discovery, and 
 to give it additional importance in the eyes of his protector, 
 Airoldi, archbishop of Heraclea, who paid all the expenses of 
 his researches, Vella manufactured a correspondence between 
 himself and the ambassador, who had returned to Morocco, in 
 which he made the latter give an assurance that there existed in 
 the library of Fez a second and more complete copy of the 
 manuscript found in the library of St. Martin; that another 
 work in continuation of the manuscript had been discovered; 
 
 16*
 
 3 TO SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 and also a series of medals, confirmatory of the history and 
 chronology of the document in question. 
 
 The imposture had such success, that the King of Naples, to 
 whom Vella presented his translation of the supposed manu 
 script, wished to send him on a mission to Morocco to make 
 further inquiries. This was as unfortunate a turn as the royal 
 favor could take; but, luckily for Vella, circumstances occurred 
 to avert the disaster. 
 
 The translation of the Arabic manuscript had been announced 
 in all the journals of Europe. The first volume was published in 
 1789, under the sanction of Airoldi. The sixth volume appeared 
 in 1792, and was to be followed by two others. Vella was every 
 where courted, and loaded with pensions and honors. Airoldi, 
 however, having caused a fac-simile of the original manuscript 
 which Telia had taken great pains to alter and make 
 nearly illegible doubts rose as to its authenticity; and finally, 
 after the "translation" had been everywhere read, everywhere 
 celebrated, and everywhere extracted from, the whole was found 
 to be a deception. The original manuscript was nothing but 
 a history of Mahomet and his family, and had no relation to Sicily 
 whatever. Yella was induced to confess his imposture, but not 
 until he had been threatened with torture. 
 
 Yarillas, the French historian, enjoyed for a long period a 
 good reputation as a veracious chronicler of events, till at length 
 the critics of other countries exploded the secret of his undeserved 
 honors. His professions of sincerity went for little, when it 
 was once discovered that his historic anecdotes derived their 
 existence solely from the wonder-loving and inventive brain of 
 the writer; his affected citations of titles, letters, memoirs, and 
 relations, being all imaginary! Having perused most of the 
 historical books of his clay, he discovered a ready facility in 
 imparting fictions as facts, while he quoted his authorities with 
 random recklessness. Another odd genius amused himself, 
 while confined to his room by protracted indisposition, with 
 inflicting on the reading community of his day his " Voyage
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITEEATtJUE. 37l 
 
 Round the World, 11 when his physical disability scarcely per 
 mitted him to describe the circuit of his own dormitory. His 
 name may be recollected by some Gemelli Carre ri, a Neapo 
 litan. 
 
 The next case we shall refer to is that of Psalmanazar, a man 
 of considerable learning and singular ingenuity, who, in his 
 time, acquired much no.toriety. He was one of the writers 
 employed in compiling a work on Universal History. Origin 
 ally a wandering advent-urer, and while under the pressure of 
 poverty, having enlisted in the army, he first attracted the 
 notice of Col. Lauder, in the garrison of Sluys, where he artfully 
 circulated a report that he was a native of the island of For 
 mosa, from which place he was expelled by the hostility of the 
 Japanese on account of his religious faith, having been pre 
 viously proselytised to Christianity from Paganism, by the 
 Jesuits. The plausibility of his story induced the colonel to 
 espouse his cause, and he subsequently was conveyed to Eng 
 land, where he was introduced to the Bishop of London, who 
 listened to his account with pity and implicit faith, became his 
 patron, and generously contributed towards his support. His 
 artful contrivance of producing and speaking a language with 
 alphabet and grammar purely of his own invention, no less than 
 his singular propensity for eating raw meat, roots and herbs, 
 soon rendered him an object of curious speculation and public 
 notoriety. The keen-eyed skepticism of some of the more dis 
 cerning, however, viewed his pretensions with suspicion: and 
 yet, could he have silenced the secret accusations of his 
 own conscience, the most sanguine wishes of the impostor might 
 possibly yet have been successful. He wrote, in Latin, an 
 interesting description of the island from which he professed to 
 have been expatriated on account of his newly-espoused reli 
 gion, which was received by the public with favor; a transla 
 tion was speedily effected, and read with avidity, which was 
 referred to as authority by Buffon, and others, while his char 
 acteristic self-complacency and adroitness in warding off every
 
 372 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 avenue to detection, seemed to have completely established his 
 claim to public confidence. His powers of memory were so 
 tenaciously correct, from the exercise of habit in verbal 
 arrangement, that on being desired to translate a long list of 
 English words into the Formosan language, which were marked 
 down without his knowledge, his credit was considerably cor 
 roborated by his correctly affixing the same terms to the same 
 words, on the question being repeated three, six, and even 
 twelve months afterwards. He at length found a warm advo 
 cate in the Bishop of Oxford, who procured for him apartments 
 in one of the Universities, for the further prosecution of his 
 studies. To impress his new neighbors at this place with the 
 idea of his intense and indefatigable application, it was his cus 
 tom to keep lighted candles in his room during the night, and 
 to sleep in an easy-chair, to prevent the impression that so 
 extraordinary a genius indulged in so unphilosophical a relaxa 
 tion as that of reposing on a bed. His next step was to return 
 to London, and publish a version of the Church Catechism in 
 his pretended vernacular, which, having passed under the close 
 scrutiny and supervision of the learned, was pronounced a real 
 language, and no counterfeit. He had now attained the acme 
 of his fame: but uo sooner had he reached it, than the tide of 
 his popularity began to ebb; for suspicion had already begun 
 to be excited by sundry contradictions which were betrayed in 
 his narrative, and other seeming absurdities, which presently 
 caused his patrons to abate their ardor, and ultimately to with 
 draw altogether their support At length the reaction in the 
 public mind became so strong, that it speedily grew into the 
 most violent expressions of malignity and irritated resentment 
 against him; and as his means of subsistence became conse 
 quently precarious, he would have become again the victim of 
 abject distress, had it not been for the admitted abilities he 
 possessed, which induced the booksellers to engage his services 
 upon the work already referred to the laborious task of com 
 piling a Universal History. His real name and place of birth
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 373 
 
 9 
 were never revealed these he studiously concealed on account 
 
 of his disgrace. He was supposed to have been from the south 
 of France; and although he never publicly avowed his fraud, 
 yet he is said to have confessed it to confidential friends, with 
 tears and repentance; and, but for such acknowledgment on 
 his part, his ingeniously fabricated illusions of an unknown 
 people and their language, might have, to this day, been classed 
 with the mysteries of mesmerism, and other subtle sophisms, 
 which perplex the sagacious and amuse the vulgar. This extra 
 ordinary individual died in 1763. 
 
 D Israeli relates, among others, the following curious instance 
 of literary forgery, practised on Capt. Wilford, by a learned 
 Hindoo, who, to ingratiate himself and his studies with the too 
 zealous and pious European, contrived, among other attempts, 
 to give the history of Xoah and his three sons, in his "Purana," 
 under the designation of Satyavrata. The captain having read 
 the passage, transcribed it for Sir William Jones, who transla 
 ted it as a curious extract; the whole was an interpolation, by 
 the dexterous introduction of a forged sheet, discolored and 
 prepared for the purpose of deception ; and which, having 
 served his design for the moment, was afterwards withdrawn. 
 As books in India are not bound, it is not difficult to introduce 
 loose leaves. To confirm his various impositions, this ingenious 
 forger had the patience to write two voluminous sections, in 
 which he connected all the legends together, in the style of the 
 Puranas, consisting of 1,200 lines. 
 
 During the reign of Charles I., numerous political forgeries 
 were perpetrated. The famous Eikon Basilike has been ranked 
 among the number, from the ambiguous claim of Gauden; and, 
 as it appears from the note-book of Sir Kicholas Hyde, chief 
 justice during the reign of that unfortunate prince, Sir Robert 
 Cotton must not be denied his claim altogether to the honors of a 
 literary fiicher, since there is mention made of a pardon he had 
 obtained from King James, for embezzling the public records ;
 
 374 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 and we read even of authors at the solemn hour of dissolution 
 having been the prey of those whose moral obliquity did not 
 prevent the lawless indulgence of the passion. 
 
 Sir William Dugdale possessed the minutes of King James s 
 Life, written by Camden, till within a fortnight of his demise; 
 as also, Camdeu s own Memoirs, which he had from Racket, 
 the author of the " Life of Bishop Williams;" " who," adds the 
 chronicler Aubrey, "did filch it from Mr. Camden as he lay a 
 dying!" It is stated that the renowned Pinelli Collection was 
 the product of skill in an art which lies more in the hand than 
 the head; and Sir Robert Saville, writing to the founder of the 
 Bodleian Library, appointing an interview for Sir Robert Cot 
 ton, cautions him that, " if he held any book so dear that he 
 would be loath to lose it, he should not let Sir Thomas out of his 
 sight, but set the book aside beforehand." a precaution 
 adopted by a friend of Bishop Moore. One calling on him found 
 him busy in hiding his best books, and locking up as many as he 
 could; on inquiring the reason of his odd occupation, the 
 bibliopolist replied, " The Bishop of Ely dines with me to 
 day I" 
 
 We will now subjoin a few instances of poetical imitations, 
 or similarities, which we find collated by D Israeli. We have 
 already alluded to the great Grecian Epic Poet, as being of 
 pre-eminent original genius; but it has been justly remarked by 
 Scott, in his Introduction to the Minstrelsy of the Scottish 
 Border, that it is fairly matter of speculation whether Homer 
 is entitled to be considered so altogether beyond the reach of 
 suspicion as an imitative poet, since it is unreasonable to sup 
 pose that the rich maturity of the divine art in which he became 
 so eminently distinguished, could have sprung into full-grown 
 existence all at once it being far more probable that even he 
 possessed a certain standard of design in the ruder attempts 
 of preceding writers. 
 
 In his beautiful " Ode to Adversity," Gray thus apostro 
 phises,
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 375 
 
 " Thou tamer of the human breast, 
 Whose iron scourge and torturing hour 
 The bad affright, afflict the best" 
 
 The expressions employed in the foregoing have been deemed 
 amenable to poetical criticism by Wakefield, but probably he 
 has after all been permitted to enjoy his opinion undisturbed, 
 as we find Milton adopts very similar language: 
 
 " "When the scourge 
 Inexorably, and the torturing hour 
 Calls us to penance." 
 
 Perhaps Shakspeare s prolific muse has been more laid under 
 contribution by literary filchers than any other writer of modern 
 times; for instance it is apparent that Pope s oft-quoted lines, 
 
 " Honor and shame from no condition rise, 
 Act well your part, there all the honor lies," 
 
 were but another rendering of the same thought, expressed not 
 less forcibly, by the great dramatic bard 
 
 "From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 
 The place is dignified by the doers deed." 
 
 Tope wrote "The proper study of mankind is man;" 
 but Charron, said it before him. Byron, in Childe Harold, 
 lias the image of a broken mirror to show how a broken 
 heart multiplies images of sorrow. But the same simile 
 is in Burton. Giordano Bruns said that the first people of the 
 world should rather be called the youngsters than the ancients. 
 Lord Bacon (a great plagiarist) makes use of the very same idea. 
 Gray sings beautifully about " full many a gem of purest 
 ray serene," and many a flower, concealed in the mine and in 
 the sea. But Bishop Hall first wrote the whole sentiment in 
 prose. Addison speaks of the stars " forever singing as they 
 shine." Sir Thomas Browne talks of " the singing constella-
 
 376 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 tions;" though both have followed the idea expressed in the 
 Scripture. Shelly speaks of Death and his brother Sleep. 
 The expression was Sir Thomas Browne s. 
 
 Rogers has doubtless availed himself of Gray s beautiful 
 stanza., in his Elegy: 
 
 " The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, 
 
 The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed 
 The cock s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed ;" 
 
 for in his pleasing little poem, " The Wish" he presents us 
 with the following: 
 
 " The swallow oft beneath my thatch 
 
 Shall twitter from her clay-built nest ; 
 Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, 
 And share my meal, a welcome guest." 
 
 Goldsmith s well-known lines: 
 
 "Man wants but little here below, 
 Nor wants that little long," 
 
 were evidently stolen from Dr. Young, who, in his " Night 
 Thoughts" says, 
 
 "Man wants but little, nor that little long." 
 That hackneyed line in Campbell s " Pleasures of Hope," 
 " Like angel visits, few and far between ; 
 
 is borrowed almost literally from Blair s " Grave? where we 
 
 have 
 
 " its visits, 
 
 Like those of angels, short aud far between ; " 
 
 * Wilmott contends that this beautiful conceit originated with Norris of Benton, in his 
 poem, entitled, " TTie Parting." The stanza reads : 
 
 " How fading are the joys we dote upon ; 
 Like apparitions peen and gone;
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 377 
 
 Moore has been charged with liberal plagiarisms upon Beran- 
 ger, as well as being a close copyist of some of his other 
 cotemporaries in vernacular verse, a detailed account of which 
 was given in Blackwood, some years ago, exhibiting a series 
 of specifications amounting to sixty-five ! Even Tennyson has, 
 in his " Miller s Daughter" proved himself but a paraphrastic 
 translator of Anacreon, while he also has but marred the 
 expressive lines of Byron, 
 
 " Who hath not proved bow feebly words essay 
 To fix one spark of Beauty s heavenly ray ? 
 Who doth not feel until his failing sight 
 Faints into dimness with his own delight 
 His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess 
 The might the majesty of loveliness ? : 
 
 Tennyson s love song runs thus, 
 
 " How many full-sailed verse express, 
 How many measured words adore 
 
 The full flowing harmony 
 Of thy swan-like stateliness, 
 
 Eleanore ? 
 
 The luxuriant symmetry 
 Of thy floating gracefulness, 
 
 Eleanore ?" 
 
 Sir Walter Scott was always esteemed an original writer, 
 but Lord Jeffrey, in reviewing his works, said : " Even in him, 
 the traces of imitation are obvious and abundant." 
 
 But to return again a moment to Pope and some of his 
 contemporaries ; we ought to mention that his editors charge 
 him with " a palpable plagiarism from Flatman, an obscure 
 
 But those who soonest take their flight, 
 Are the most exquisite and strong, 
 
 Like angels visits short and bnght; 
 Mortality s too weak to bear them long."
 
 378 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 rhymer of Charles II. s time, in his sublime ode, The Dying 
 Christian to his Soul. " Many of his expressions, as well as 
 ideas, in his " Essay on Man," were abstracted from Milton; 
 and against his celebrated " Essay on Criticism," Lady Wortley 
 Montague has preferred a far more serious accusation: she writes, 
 " I admired Mr. Pope s Essay on Criticism, at first very much, 
 because I had not then read any of the ancient critics, and did not 
 know that it was all stolen." The fine moral poem of the "Her 
 mit," by Parnell, is taken from Martin Luther s tale of a hermit, 
 who murmured against the decrees of Divine Providence. What 
 Sterne has not plagiarized, we shall not stay to notice, notwith 
 standing he counterfeited most excellent coin. He has been 
 charged with pilfering from Burton, Rabelais, Montaigne, Bayle, 
 and others ; his seventh posthumous sermon is in a great part 
 cribbed, word for word, from a previous divine, yclept Leighten- 
 house, 1697. 
 
 Another instance of close resemblance occurs in Gray s cele 
 brated " Elegy ;" so remarkable is the analogy, that one is con 
 strained to suspect it to be a free rendering from Lucretius. 
 
 " For him no more the blazing hearth shall burn. 
 
 Or busy house-wife ply her evening care, 
 No children run to lisp their sire s return, 
 Or climb his knees the envious kiss to share." 
 
 There is a slight parallel between the foregoing and the 
 beautiful bursts of pathos in Thomson, which we subjoin ; but 
 even these lines are said to be an imitation of a passage in the 
 " Iliad :" 
 
 In vain for him th officious wife prepares 
 The fire fair blazing, and the vestment warm : 
 In vain his little children, peeping out 
 Into the mingling storm, demand their sire, 
 With tears of artless innocence alas ! 
 Nor wife, nor children more shall he behold, 
 Nor friend?, nor sacred home."
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 379 
 
 The plagiarism of Campbell from an elder poet, Vaughan, is 
 worthy of being cited : 
 
 " When o er the green, undeluged earth, 
 Heaven s covenant thou didst shine ; 
 How came the world s gray fathers forth, 
 To watch thy sacred sign.- * 
 
 " Still young and fine ! but what is still in view 
 We slight as old and soiled, though fresh and new : 
 How bright wert thou, when Shem s admiring eye 
 Thy burning, flaming arch did first descry ; 
 When Zerah, Xahor, Haram, Abram, Lot, 
 The youthful world s gray fathers, in one knot, 
 Did, with inteutive looks watch every hour 
 For thy new light, and trembled at each shower ! ; f 
 
 The occasional conceits in this black-letter bard, coupled 
 with his earnest straight-forwardness and sincerity, compensate 
 us for the absence of the rich embellishment of Campbell. 
 
 We cannot forbear quoting from the " English Bards and 
 Scotch Reviewers," Byron s well-known lines on the death of 
 Kirke White; because the most beauciful figure in them seems 
 evidently copied from Waller. We commence with Byron: 
 
 " Unhappy White ! while life was in its spring, 
 And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing, 
 The spoiler came, and all thy promise fair, 
 Has sought the grave to sleep for ever there. 
 Oh, what a noble heart was here undone, 
 "When science self destroyed her favorite son ! 
 Yes, she too much indulged thy fond pursuit : 
 She sowed the seeds, but Death has reaped the fruit. 
 T was thine own genius gave the fatal blow, 
 And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low! 
 So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain. 
 No more through rolling clouds to soar again, 
 Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, 
 And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart : 
 
 * Campbell. t Vaughan.
 
 380 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, 
 He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel, 
 While the same plumage that had wanned his nest, 
 Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast !" 
 
 Waller s stanza which expresses a similar sentiment, is as 
 follows : 
 
 That eagle s fate and mine are one, 
 
 Which on the shaft that made him die 
 Espied a feather of his own 
 
 Wherewith he d wont to soar so high. 
 
 In Thomas Moore s poetic epistle, " Corruption" the same 
 figure also occurs: 
 
 "Like a young eagle, who has lent his plume 
 To fledge the shaft by which he meets his doom, 
 See their own feathers plucked, to wing the dart, 
 Winch rank corruption destines for their heart. 
 
 Speaking of Lord Byron, we might here quote a paragraph 
 from Goethe, which may be new to some: 
 
 " The tragedy of Manfred, is a most singular performance, and one 
 which concerns me nearly. This wonderful and ingenious poet has taken 
 possession of my Faust, and hypochondriacally drawn from it the most 
 singular nutriment. He has employed the means in it which suits his 
 object, in a particular manner, so that no one thing remains the same ; 
 and on this account, I cannot sufficiently admire his ability. The re-cast 
 is so peculiar, that a highly interesting lecture might be given on its 
 resemblance, and want of resemblance, to its model though I cannot 
 deny, that the gloomy fervor of a rich and endless despair becomes at 
 last wearisome to us. However, the displeasure we feel is always con 
 nected with admiration and esteem. The very quintessence of the sen 
 timents and passions, which assist in constituting the most singular talents 
 for self-commentary ever known, is contained in this tragedy/ 
 
 Touching poetic coincidences, it may not be amiss to notice 
 the somewhat remarkable fact, and one, perhaps, not very 
 generally known, that there have been three poets of the
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 381 
 
 respective names ot Walter Scott, Samuel Rogers and James 
 Grahame, before the excellent authors of " Marmion," " The 
 Pleasures of Memory ," and " The Sabbath." Specimens of their 
 published works may be found in Mr. Southey s " Later English 
 Poets ;" they all three existed in the latter part of the seven 
 teenth century. 
 
 The beautiful stanzas entitled, The Soul s Errand, " Go, soul, 
 the body s guest," etc., often attributed to Sir Walter Raleigh, 
 were really written by Sylvester. Barnfield is now generally 
 believed to be the author of the following song, sometimes as 
 cribed to Shakespeare. 
 
 "As it fell upon a day, 
 In the merry month of May, 
 Sitting in a pleasant shade, 
 Which a grove of myrtles made." 
 
 "It may be seen in the collected poems of Richard Barnfield, 
 1598. The same idea we find repeated by diiferent writers, 
 touching the hopelessness of overruling a " strong-minded 
 woman." An old dramatist, Sir Samuel Tuke (1613) says 
 
 He is a fool who thinks by force or skill, 
 To turn the current of a woman s will." 
 
 And in Aaron Hill s "Epilogue to Zara," bearing date about 
 1750, we find the following: 
 
 " First, then, a woman will, or won t, depend on t ; 
 If she will do t, she will; and there s an end on t ; 
 But, if she won t, since safe and sound your trust is, 
 Fear is affront ; and jealousy injustice." * 
 
 *0n a pillar erected on the Mount in the Dane John Field, Canterbury, are engraved 
 the following lines : 
 
 " Where is the man who has the power and skill 
 To stem the torrent of a woman s will? 
 For if she will, she will, you may depend on t ; 
 And if she won t, she won t ; so there s an end on t."
 
 382 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Young, in his " Night Thoughts 1 has the well-known line 
 Be wise to-day ; tis madness to defer." 
 
 And Congreve, in his Letter to Colham, introduces a similar 
 thought: 
 
 " Defer not till to-morrow to be wise, 
 To-morrow s sun to thee may never rise." 
 
 Drydeu says 
 
 "For truth has such a face and such a mien, 
 As to be loved needs only to be seen." 
 
 And we have from Pope 
 
 "Vice is a monster, of so frightful mien, 
 As to be hated, needs but to be seen," &c. 
 
 In Measure for Measure, occurs the song, which may be also 
 found verbatim in Bcamont and Fletcher, commencing, 
 
 " Take, ! take those lips away, 
 
 That so sweetly were forsworn ; 
 And those eyes, the break of day, 
 Lights that do mislead the morn. 
 But my kisses bring again, 
 Seals of love, but sealed in vain." 
 
 The well-known lines, 
 
 " My mind to me a kingdom is, 
 
 Such perfect joy therein I find, 
 As far exceeds all earthly bliss, 
 That God and nature hath assigned," 
 
 seem to have had their origin in the couplet of Southwell, 
 
 " My mind to me an empire is, 
 While grace affordeth health."
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 383 
 
 Cowper s line, 
 
 God made the country, and man made the town," 
 has its parallel (it originated with Varro) in that of Cowley, 
 " God the first garden made, and the first city, Cain." 
 
 Good old Fuller thus beautifully depicts the last moments of 
 a dying saint: 
 
 " Drawing near her death, she sent most pious thoughts as 
 harbingers to heaven; and her soul saw a glimpse of happiness 
 through the chinks of her sickness-broken body;" and Waller 
 versifies the same idea: 
 
 " The soul s dark cottage, battered and decayed, 
 Lets in new light through chinks that time has made. 
 Stronger by weakness, wiser men become, 
 As they draw near to their eternal home." 
 
 Addison and Pope may be said to " divide the honors," as to 
 the authorship of the line 
 
 " Rides on the whirlwind, and directs the storm," 
 
 since it appears in the writings of both. 
 
 A similar instance is also observable with respect to the lines 
 of Pope and Milton: 
 
 "Laugh where we must, be candid where we can, 
 But vindicate the ways of God to man." 
 
 for in Paradise Lost, we have the same idea in almost the 
 identical phraseology: 
 
 " And justify the ways of God to man." 
 Even Wordsworth seems to have copied; he says, 
 " The child is father of the man,"
 
 384 8ALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 and Milton wrote, 
 
 " The childhood shows the mail, 
 As morning shows the day." 
 
 "Drydeu," says "Warburton, "borrowed for want of leisure; 
 Pope for want of genius; Milton from pride, and Addison 
 through modesty. The same critic has collated some half-dozen 
 remarkable parallels in Addisou s " Cato" with Tully and 
 Lucan. 
 
 Lauder, the author of two ambitious but unsuccessful tomes, 
 entitled "Poetarum Scotorum Musce Sacra," has assailed the 
 Literary reputation of the " blind old master of English song," 
 in a volume which was afterwards roughly handled by Drs. 
 Johnson and Beutley; being conscious it was no slight act 
 of temerity in him to attempt impugning the integrity of 
 such a name, he commences his work in the following apologetic 
 strain, assuring the reader that "he had no intention to dero 
 gate from the merits of the author of Paradise Lost/ to whom 
 great praise is due for so beautiful a structure; even if it should 
 be proved that a good part of his materials icere borrowed from 
 his neighbors but it cannot be denied that he is considerably 
 indebted to the following productions: Sarcotidos, a Latin 
 Drama, written by Grotius; and, lastly, to a volume of poems 
 published in the same language by Andrew Ramsay." A 
 strong resemblance, it is affirmed, is discernible, both in 
 structure and thought, in the parallels he has adduced; and 
 yet we are reluctant to endorse the opinion of this literary 
 censor, preferring . rather to adopt the rejoinder of onp of the 
 poet s defenders, "admitting that Milton took many hints from 
 these writers, yet the great whole of a magnificent epic, the 
 connection of reference of part to part, are undeniably his own." 
 
 One of the most deeply interesting biographies we ever read 
 was that of the poet, Chatterton. His brief and hapless career 
 was crowded with touching incidents. 
 
 Unquestionably, the most brilliant, successful, and innocent
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 385 
 
 literary forgeries ever committed were those produced in Eng 
 land about seventy years ago, by Thomas Chatterton. Chat- 
 terton was the posthumous son of the sexton of St. Mary Redcliffe 
 church at Bristol, and was himself a charity-school boy. He was a 
 singular youth shy, abstracted, and, as some thought, stupid. 
 When about sixteen years of age, he professed to have found in 
 some old chests belonging to the church, a quantity of poems 
 written by one Rowley, a priest in the fifteenth century. Por 
 tions of these manuscripts he exhibited, which bore all the 
 marks of age, and by those to whom they were first shown 
 were considered to be genuine. The poetry of the supposed 
 work was of the highest order, and among the literati of England 
 the utmost excitement prevailed. Chatterton s mother being- 
 poor, the boy on leaving school became clerk in a lawyer s office. 
 This fellow, Lambert, shamefully ill-used Chatterton, and at last 
 turned him out doors because he had found on his desk a paper 
 entitled his " will," in which the boy expressed his intention to 
 destroy himself. 
 
 The literary forgeries of Chattertou were induced by the 
 cold neglect with which he found his own original effusions 
 were received; and yet Byron, Shelley, Coleridge, Southey, 
 Wordsworth, and other great poets have landed Chatterton as 
 a precocious and remarkable genius. Keats dedicated his 
 "Endymion" to his memory; and Wordsworth styled him 
 
 " The marvellous boy, 
 The sleepless soul that perished in its pride/ 
 
 The next instance of grand literary larceny that occurs to us 
 is that of Samuel Ireland, of Shakspearian notoriety. It is 
 doubtful if such devout consternation and enthusiastic admira 
 tion were ever enkindled among the cognoscenti and dilettanti 
 of the civilized world, as were caused by his fabrications. 
 
 This notorious literary impostor was early distinguished for 
 his enthusiastic devotion to Shakspcare; the slightest scrap of 
 ancient writing referring to that great name, was, to Samuel
 
 386 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Ireland, a treasure of priceless worth. What effect upon his 
 nerves the possession of an autograph of the immortal bard 
 produced, may be easily imagined by the reader he became 
 intoxicated with delight. The precious relic which purported 
 to be a mortgage-deed betwixt Shakspeare and one Michael 
 Frazer, was viewed with such rapturous veneration by all the 
 antiquaries of the day, " that it took several days," continues 
 the narrator, " before any one became sufficiently composed 
 and calm to inquire whence the document emanated." Young 
 Ireland (the son of the afore-named), the discoverer, accounted 
 for its appearance by alleging that he found it among some 
 ancient records in the possession of a gentleman of fortune, 
 but whose name he had been charged to preserve an inviolable 
 secret. Byng, and other literary amateurs conjectured that 
 a rich mine of Shakspearian wealth had been struck, and they 
 became ravenously impatient for its further exploration. With 
 such powerful stimulus these sanguine expectations soon became 
 realized, and presently the following documents greeted the 
 delighted vision of the learned : Shakspeare s "Profession of 
 Faith," a " Letter to Lord Southampton, a "Letter to Anne 
 Hatharway," some "Poetic Epistles to the same," and a "Let 
 ter to Queen Elizabeth," and some " Original plays." Even 
 that sage veteran, Dr. Parr, proved a ready victim to the delu 
 sion; also the Earl of Lauderdale, Yalpy, Boswell, and Pin- 
 kerton, the historian, were among the credulous; and yet these 
 papers, instead of being two centuries old, ultimately proved 
 to be but the fabrication of a lad of eighteen, a few hours 
 before. In his " Confessions," young Ireland admitted, in 
 extenuation of his fraud, that he was incited to the act from 
 the pleasure it afforded his father. The penalty of his impos 
 ture was, however, anything but enviable, for the name of Ire 
 land soon became synonymous with obloquy, and a life of 
 voluntary exile paid the forfeit of his folly. We ought to 
 add, that the merit of detection belonged to John Kemble, 
 whose critical acumen respecting the writings and genius of
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 387 
 
 the great dramatic poet, proved in this instance more than a 
 match against the sagacious credulity of the greatest men of 
 letters of his time. 
 
 There was a curious work published in 1688, entitled 
 " Momus Triumphans," devoted to the exposure of the plagia 
 ries of the English stage : but with such cases of petit larceny 
 we shall not meddle, having already discovered more instances 
 of fraud, on a grander scale, than the reader will care to scru 
 tinize. 
 
 It is related of the French poet, Despartes, on being accused 
 of having availed himself very liberally of some passages of the 
 Italian poets ; so far from denying the charge, when a book 
 appeared upou the subject, entitled "Rencontre des Muses de 
 France et d ltalie, " He frankly replied, " had I known the 
 author s design, I could have furnished him with a great many 
 more instances than he has collected !" 
 
 Here we have a literary sinner who affects no disguise of 
 freebooting. He seems to suffer as little compunction for his 
 detected crime, as if a certain canon of the Decalogue never 
 had existence. Psalrnanazar s ingenious fraud, or the daring 
 artifice of Ireland, scarcely exceed in impudent audacity the 
 case of one, Pinkerton, a voluminous writer, who published, 
 in 1786, two volumes, " Ancient Scottish Poems, never before in 
 print, but now published from the MS. collection of Sir R. Maitland, 
 &c. Pinkerton maintained that he had found the manuscripts 
 in the Pepysian Library at Cambridge, and among his 
 Correspondence, it is stated, he alludes to the circumstance with 
 admirable coolness. We may mention one other variety, how 
 ever, that of authors selling their names to be prefixed to 
 works which they never even read ; take the following case : 
 Sir John Hill, as we learn by a recent writer, " once contracted 
 to translate Swammerdam s work on insects, for fifty guineas;" 
 after the agreement with the bookseller he recollected that he 
 did not understand a single word of the Dutch language, and 
 as no French edition then existed, he sought another to assume
 
 388 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 his task, and succeeded in effecting an agreement, with a 
 translator, for just one-half the sum he was himself to receive ; 
 strange to add, however, the second translator was found to 
 be in precisely the same situation as his employer. The con 
 sequence was, that a third was finally engaged to accomplish 
 the work, and, to the disgrace of literature, at the meagre 
 remuneration of twelve guineas ; so that while the actual transla 
 tor, the modest drudge, whose name never appeared to the 
 world, broke, in patience, his daily bread, our pseudo-author 
 was allowed to feast upon the spoils, as a reward for his impos 
 ture. 
 
 Mark Akenside first published his " Pleasures of Imagina 
 tion " anonymously ; and very soon after, a pretender of the 
 name of Rolt, actually had the impudence to go over to Dull in 
 and publish an edition of that fine poem with his own name 
 attached to it as the author. Poor Akenside at length heard of 
 the cheat, and published a genuine edition, exposing the 
 fraud. Dr. Campbell, of St. Andrews, Scotland, wrote " An 
 Inquiry into the Original of Moral Virtue," the manuscript of 
 which he consigned to his friend Mr. Innes, who not only exceeded 
 his commission by publishing the work under his own name, as 
 the author, but before the imposition was detected, acquired 
 considerable fame and even promotion for his (supposed) great 
 merit ! Dr. Blair s early poem, "The Resurrection," while in 
 manuscript, having been copied at college for the use of his 
 private friends, in a short time after appeared in a pompous 
 folio, to the utter amazement of its despoiled author, with the 
 name of Dr. Douglas appended to its title, and arrogantly dedica 
 ted to the Princess Dowager of Wales! The " Man of Feeling," 
 by Mackenzie, was also originally published under the assumed 
 name of Eccles, who borrowed the manuscript on pretence of 
 perusing it. This rogue succeeded to such an extent in his impos 
 ture, that the real author found at first great trouble in establishing 
 his just claim to its authorship before the world. The true author 
 ship of Gil Bias" has not only been made the matter of speculative
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 389 
 
 inquiry, but a recent writer in Blackwood has even ventured 
 to dispute the claim of Le Sage to its paternity, asserting 
 strong grounds for the belief of its having been the production 
 of a Spanish scribe, Don Antonio de Solis ! 
 
 Dr. Johnson says, "It is not difficult to conceive of such 
 kind of fraud to be practised with successful effrontery ; the 
 filiation of a literary performance being difficult of proof, there 
 being seldom any witness at the birth." The writer from 
 whom we quote did not himself incur any great risk in this 
 matter, however, as his progeny evince a strongly-marked 
 identity ; and 
 
 " Shakspeare s magic could not copied be, 
 Within that charmed circle none durst walk but he. : 
 
 A somewhat similar theft, although on a grander scale, was 
 perpetrated by the notorious Sir Everard Home, who, it will 
 be remembered, under pretext of making a catalogue of them, 
 procured from the Royal College of Surgeons the loan of 
 the life-labor manuscripts of Doctor Hunter, forming ten 
 large folio volumes. After much patient waiting and many 
 bootless inquiries for said catalogue, it was at length con 
 fessed by this literary corsair, that he had burnt a large 
 portion of them, alleging that he did so in accordance 
 with the expressed wish of Dr. Hunter. The grief and con 
 sternation that ensued upon such an unpardonable proceeding, 
 was in uo degree lessened by the discovery, and subsequent 
 confession on the part of Sir Everard, that he previously stole 
 the valuable materials of Hunter, from which he compiled his 
 boasted Essays delivered before the Royal Society. These lectures 
 being produced with such astonishing rapidity and frequency, 
 very naturally excited suspicion, and ultimately led to the 
 betrayal of the fraud. The name of John Hunter reminds 
 us of another case of plagiarism : about four years ago there 
 was a paper in the British and Foreign Medical Review pur 
 porting to be a review of the character and writings of John
 
 390 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Hunter, ascribed to the pen of Dr. W. B. Carpenter, a dis 
 tinguished member of the English faculty, but which in reality 
 was a transfer of " A Review of the Genius and Writings of 
 Milton," by William Ellery Channing, each being substantially 
 the same throughout and for the most part verbatim et 
 literatim the principal change consisting in that of the proper 
 name. What shall we say of the case of the metaphysician, 
 Coleridge, delivering in London a course of lectures on the Greek 
 drama, who resorted to the easy expedient of translating the 
 published lectures of Schlegel on the same subject, which had 
 been delivered some few years preceding. 
 
 In 1823 a visit to England was made by a singular indi 
 vidual named Hunter, an American, the author of a produc 
 tion a pure fabrication entitled " Memoirs of a Captivity 
 among the Indians of North America, from childhood to the 
 age of nineteen, with anecdotes descriptive of their manners 
 and customs," &c. The work contains a highly romantic and 
 interesting narrative of his alleged wanderings among various 
 tribes of the Red-men, which at first not only was regarded as 
 a faithful picture of Indian life, but procured for him an intro 
 duction into the best literary society, and enlisted for him the 
 sympathies of the philanthropic, who eagerly sought to aid him 
 in his professed object of aiming to bring about their civiliza 
 tion. 
 
 The case of Madame de Genlis is singular. In her latter 
 years, this lady, not content with wholesale plagiarisms from 
 Rousseau and Yoltaire, took to filching from herself, and, under 
 a different title, would publish the same work twice, or thrice. 
 She engaged to compile for a bookseller a Manuel Encydopedique 
 de. VEnfance. The manuscript was put into his hands ; the 
 stipulated price of four hundred francs was paid; and the work 
 was about to be sent to the press, when the publisher discovered 
 that it was nothing but an exact copy of a book on the same 
 subject which Madame de Geulis had published ten years ago. 
 It has been observed that whenever any age has been distinguished
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 391 
 
 by a great number of excellent authors, they hare cultivated dif 
 ferent departments of literature, prose or verse, or have adopted 
 different styles of expression. This was the case in the Augus 
 tan age, as appears from the works of Yirgil, Horace, Ovid> 
 etc. This is also evident in later times; for in the writings of 
 Shakespeare, Swift, Pope, Gray, Bolingbroke, Addisou, Scott, 
 Moore, Milton, and others, there are striking idiosyncrasies, and 
 peculiarities of style. 
 
 These men were not, like most of their literary contemporaries, 
 servile imitators, but original thinkers, and consequently, original 
 writers. 
 
 Coleridge said, that plagiarists are always suspicious of being 
 stolen from : if this is so, the case of Madame de Genlis is 
 rather anomalous. We will close our chapter with a few more 
 instances of analogy in sentiment and verse. For example : 
 Spenser compares the falling of Autumn foliage with the death 
 of man. 
 
 " As withered leaves drop from their dried stocks, 
 When the wroth western wind doth reave their locks. 
 
 The same idea is employed by Shelley, 
 
 " Thou wild west wind ! thou breath of autumn s being, 
 Before whose unseen presence the leaves dead 
 Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing." 
 
 Milton embodies the same figure ; and Byron also, in the 
 well-remembered stanza: 
 
 " Like the leaves of the forest, when summer is green. 
 That host with its banners at sunset was seen ; 
 Like the leaves of the forest, when autumn hath blown. 
 That host on the morrow lay withered and strewn." 
 
 Again, in Pope : 
 
 " Like leaves on the trees, the race of man is found : 
 They fall successive, and successive rise."
 
 392 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 The following is a coincidence between Tennyson and Shak- 
 speare : 
 
 A dream 
 
 Dreamed by a happy man, while the dark east 
 Ts slowly brightening to his bridal morn." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 
 " Then music is 
 
 As those dulcet sounds in break of day, 
 
 That creep into the dreaming bridegroom s ear, 
 
 And summon him to marriage." 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 In the very fine stanza on a skull (Childe Harold] Byron 
 apostrophizes it as, 
 
 " The dome of thought and palace of the soul." 
 
 Waller in a short poem on tea, the effect of which he 
 describes, calls the head the 
 
 " Palace of the soul." 
 
 Can we not trace Mason s " Gadding Ivy" to Milton s " Gad 
 ding Vine ?" In the dramatic poem of " Elfrida," by the for 
 mer, there is 
 
 " The ivy, gadding from th untwisted stem, 
 Curtains each verdant side," 
 
 And in Milton s " Lycidas " we read 
 
 " desert caves, 
 With wild thyme, and the gadding vine o ergrown." 
 
 A coincidence of imagery is apparent in the following : 
 
 " But let my due feet never fail, 
 To walk the studious cloister s pale, 
 There let the pealing organ blow, 
 To the full voic d choir below, 
 In service high, and anthems clear,
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 393 
 
 As may with sweetness through mine ear 
 Dissolve me into ecstacics." 
 
 II Penseroso. 
 
 The other passage in " St. Agnes Eve," where the beads 
 man returneth : 
 
 " Mong the chapel aisle by slow degrees, 
 
 Northward he turneth through a little door, 
 
 And scarce three steps, ere Music s golden tongue 
 
 flattered to tears this aged man " 
 
 In a madrigal by Morley (1600) we have the following : 
 
 " April is my mistris face, 
 And July in her eyes hath place, 
 Within her bosom is September, 
 But in her heart a cold December." 
 
 and in Robert Greene s " Perimedes, the Blacksmith," 1588 
 we find another rendering of the same idea : 
 
 " Fair is my love, for April -in her face. 
 
 Her lovely breasts September claims his part, 
 And lordly July in her eies takes place, 
 But cold December dwelleth in her heart." 
 
 The following speak for themselves : 
 
 [Longfellow. ] 
 
 " Aud like a lily on a river floating, 
 She floats upon the river of his thoughts." 
 
 Spanish Student, Jlct 2, Sc. 3. 
 
 [Tennyson.} 
 
 "Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, 
 Aud slips into the bosom of the lake." 
 
 Princess, pt. 1. 
 
 There is a resemblance in the following lines from Wordsworth 
 and Keble.
 
 304 SALAD FOli THE SOCIAL. 
 
 " A book, upon whose leaves some chosen plants 
 By his own hand disposed with nicest care, 
 In undccaying beauty were preserved." 
 
 Excursion, bk. 6. 
 
 " Like flower-leaves in a precious volume stored 
 
 To solace and relieve 
 Some heart too weary of the restless world. 
 
 Christian Year. 
 
 Herrick, seems to have had the finest perception of the 
 delicate and charming, in the following 
 
 " Her pretty feet, 
 Like smiles, did creep 
 A little out, and then, 
 As if they started at bo-peep, 
 Did soon draw in again." 
 
 It is the exquisite intimation of the lively character of the 
 inward spirit, shown in the active movements of the feet, which 
 Sir John Suckling has imitated in his ballad of the Wedding : 
 
 " Her feet beneath her petticoat 
 Like little mice stole iu and out, 
 
 As if they feared the light ; 
 But, oh, she dances such a way, 
 No sun upon an Easter day 
 
 Is half so fine a sight F 
 
 The literary faux-pns of a once celebrated chemist, by his work 
 on 1 Chemical Tests," IK known to the scientific in both hemispheres. 
 He published a work on Poisons, entitled, "Death in the. Pot, which 
 at tirst bid fair to yield its author a moderately good revenue of 
 fame and fortune, but for the discovery which was soon made, that 
 it consisted of a series of pilfered pages, torn out of old books in 
 the British Museum; he was tried upon a criminal suit for felony, 
 and although formally acquitted, yet so strong was the circum 
 stantial evidence of his guilt, that he was compelled to decamp. 
 Among the liberal professions respectively law, physic, and the-
 
 THE LARCENIES OF LITERATURE. 395 
 
 ology many curious facts might also be cited ; but about theology 
 \ve must have little to say of physic, less and law, the least. 
 Before speaking of the mysterious parallels which may be found 
 to exist with the Biblical Commentaries of such divines as Dr. 
 Adam Clarke, and his approved pioneer, Dr. John Gill, we 
 subjoin the following extract from the Preface to Cobbin s Con 
 densed Commentary: 
 
 " All the commentators have drawn largely from the Fathers, 
 especially from St. Augustine; and most of them have made 
 common property of Patrick, South and Whitby. Henry has 
 made very free use with Bishop Hall and others, and Scott has 
 again enriched himself abundantly from Henry; Poole exhausted 
 the continental writers, while Gill, unlike the others, acknow 
 ledges his obligations." 
 
 The number of commentators is great; yet if the uncopied 
 portions were to be collected, they would, perhaps, occupy a 
 single duodecimo. 
 
 It was a curious mistake that a celebrated English clergy 
 man recently made; in printing his Philippic against Theatres, 
 he actually copied it wholly from another writer, without the 
 slightest acknowledgment. Burin detected this, and printing 
 the article from both in parallels simply asked what faith could 
 be reposed in the reverend pilferer. 
 
 A few years ago, a work was published in London, under 
 the title of " Anecdotes of Napoleon," and, would it be credited, 
 that this wonderful production was neither more nor less than a 
 compilation literally rendered from the German, of a Life of 
 Frederic the Great, the name of the emperor being substituted 
 for that of the latter. Another instance of fraud occurred in 
 Captain Marryatt s "Narrative of M. Yiolet," in which some 
 wholesale plagiarisms were perpetrated upon two American 
 authors, Kendall and Gregg. 
 
 Punch profanely jokes about some " sprigs of divinity," who 
 are accustomed to "bone" their sermons, having recourse to 
 skeletons, which they keep in their closets, and with which they
 
 396 SALAD F O H T H K SOCIAL. 
 
 are in the babit of terrifying the consciences of their hearers. 
 This fact accounts for their sermons being as dry as a bone! 
 The same humorous authority affirms, there are many thoughts 
 like diamonds, that take much less time to find, than to polish 
 when found. Old thoughts being frequently like old clothes, 
 you put them away for a time, and they become apparently new 
 by " brushing up." 
 
 A few years ago a very impressive vsermon was delivered by 
 a young man fresh from the seminary. After service a gentle 
 man observed " Not every young man can think like that young 
 man." It was one of Melville 1 . s masterly discourses, word for icord ! 
 
 A preacher of no remarkable powers undertook, not long since, 
 to astound the congregation of a brother minister by a great 
 sermon. It was Massiloris on the small number of the saved. 
 Alas, he could not wield the power of Massilon, and the effort 
 proved a failure. 
 
 Another instance of clerical delinquency was that of a printed 
 discourse. It has been heralded to the world with no ordinary 
 parade and display. But in glancing at it, evidences of other 
 authorship were immediately detected and on comparison it 
 was found that every passage of any beauty or power was 
 stolen. About one half of it, in language as wdl as idea, was 
 found to be from Gilfillau s Bards of the Bille, and from Hamil 
 ton of London. 
 
 Even the Press sometimes makes unacknowledged appropria 
 tions of the productions of others. Not many months since, 
 we accidentally noticed in a newspaper emanating from the far 
 West, a poem, entitled "T%e World;" the first stanza of which 
 reads 
 
 " Talk who will of the world as a desert of thrall. 
 
 Yet there is a bloom on the waste ; 
 Though the chalice of life hath its acid and gall. 
 There are honey-drops, too, for the taste." 
 
 The authorship of the production, consisting of thirteen
 
 THK LARGE NIKS OF LITERATURE. 397 
 
 verses, would it be believed was ascribed to a certain N. H 
 Parker, to whose literary claims the discriminating editor 
 thought proper to devote his rhetorical skill. The poem is to 
 be found verbatim in Eliza Cook s poetical works. 
 
 An edition of Cicero de Senedute, with annotations, appeared 
 in London about the time of Franklin s mission to that capital, 
 as translated by himself, with his portrait annexed, when it is 
 well-known he was incompetent to such a task. The translation 
 was really made by Logan, who founded the Philadelphia 
 Library. Another literary peccadillo should be recorded : we 
 refer to his plagiarism upon Jeremy Taylor s beautiful parable 
 against " Intolerance," which Franklin has incorporated ver 
 batim into his works without the slightest acknowledgment; 
 while even Lord Kaimes, in quoting the extract, gives credit 
 for it to Franklin. It is as follows : 
 
 "And it came to pass after these things, that Abraham sat in the door 
 of his tent, about the going down of the sun. And behold a man bent 
 with age, coming from the way of the wilderness leaning on a staff: and 
 Abraham rose, and met him, and said unto him. Turn in. I pray thee, 
 and wash thy feet, and tarry all night : and thou shalt rise early in the 
 morning and go on thy way. And the man said, Nay, for I will abide 
 under this tree. But Abraham pressed him greatly ; so he turned and 
 went into the tent, and Abraham baked unleavened bread, and they did 
 eat. And when Abraham saw that the man blesssed not God, he said 
 unto him, Wherefore dost thou not worship the most high God, creator 
 of heaven and earth? And the man answered and said, I do not wor 
 ship thy God, neither do I call upon his name : for I have made to myself 
 a god, which abidcth always in mine house, and provideth me with all 
 things. And Abraham s zeal was kindled against the man, and he arose, 
 and fell upon the man, and drove him forth with blows into the wilder 
 ness. And God called unto Abraham, saying, Abraham, where is the 
 stranger? And Abraham answered and said, Lord, he would not wor 
 ship thee, neither would he call upon thy name, therefore have I driven 
 him out from before my face into the wilderness ; and God said, Have 
 I borne with him these hundred and ninety and eight years, and nourished 
 him, and clothed him, notwithstanding his rebellion against me ; and 
 couldst not thou, who art thyself a sinner, bear with him one night? "
 
 398 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 Having thus taken a brief glance at prominent cases of 
 literary fraud, we are tempted to inquire whether there is such 
 a thing in existence as absolute moral honesty. The earliest 
 indications of childhood afford us no very conclusive evidence 
 in its behalf, however guileless the incipient knavery, while 
 among the unsophisticated rangers of the forest, similar develop 
 ments of a natural law of secretiveness are no less observable. 
 The governing impulse of the robber seems but the exuberant 
 outgrowth of the very principle, otherwise known by the less 
 objectionable epithet covetousness; and we cannot but con 
 clude that he must be an ingenious sophist who can adduce 
 any substantial reasons against their positive identity. If, 
 then, they are convertible terms, it is solely to our conventional 
 usage we must ascribe the fact, that both are not alike visited 
 by penal enactment. How far such a course may conflict with 
 our notions of abstract justice, we leave the reader to decide, 
 since to both we admit an eager, if not an equal, proclivity. 
 
 " In the crowd, 
 
 May it please your excellency, your thief looks 
 Exactly like the rest, or rather better ; 
 Tis only at the bar, and in the dungeon, 
 That wise men know your felon by his features."
 
 " L Envoy is an epilogue, or discourse, to make plain 
 Some obscure precedence that hath before been sain ; 
 I will example it." 
 
 Love s Labor Lost. 
 
 YERY few wills are executed without a codicil, so that it 
 may not be inadmissible to offer a little dish of trifles after 
 our Salad. If it be true that good wine needs no bush, tis 
 true, as Shakspeare has it, that a good play needs no epilogue; 
 yet to good wine they do use good bushes ; and good plays 
 do prove the better by the help of good epilogues. Not 
 unfrequently the after-thought which suggests the postscript 
 contains the most important item of the whole epistle : and 
 although this may not be the case in the present instance, yet 
 our pen seems reluctant to resign its office without a few words 
 supplementary a brief tete-a-tete with our excellent friends 
 who have shared our literary repast. Patroclus is said to 
 have been famous for his " Olla Podrida" in our emulation 
 of the classic hero, we stake our reputation upon Salad. Our 
 preference has been confirmed, moreover, by the brilliant suc 
 cess of a more recent artiste in the same department of culi 
 nary skill the chevalier D Aubigne, the story of whose career 
 is too curious to be passed over. "Latour D Aubigne contrived 
 to live, as many French gentleman did at the time of the 
 French Revolution, in bitter poverty, without a sacrifice of 
 dignity. He had one day been invited by an English friend to 
 dine with the latter at a tavern. In the course of the repast, 
 
 899
 
 400 SALAD FOR THE SOCIAL. 
 
 he took upon himself to mix the salad ; and the way in which 
 he did this attracted the notice of all the guests. Previous 
 to this period, lettuces were commonly eaten, by tavern fre 
 quenters at least, au naturel, with no more dressing than Xebu- 
 chadnezzar had to his grass when he dieted daily among the 
 beasts. Consequently, when D Aubigne handled the ,prepara- 
 tion for which he had asked, like a chemist concocting elixir in 
 his laboratory, the guests were lost in admiration, for the 
 refreshing aroma of a Mayonnaise was warrant to their senses 
 that the French knight had discovered for them a new pleasure. 
 One of them approached the foreign magician, and said, Sir, 
 it is universally known that your nation excels all others in the 
 making a salad. Would it be too great a liberty to ask you 
 to do us the favor to mix one for the party at my table ? The 
 courteous Frenchman smiled, was flattered, performed the office 
 asked, and put four gentlemen in a state of uncontrollable 
 ecstacy. He had talked cheerfully, as he mixed gracefully and 
 scientifically, and, in the few minutes required by him to com 
 plete his work of enchantment, he contrived to explain his 
 position as emigrant, and his dependance on the pecuniary aid 
 afforded by the English Government. The guests did not let 
 the poor Chevalier depart without slipping into his hand a 
 golden fee, which he received with as little embarrassment, and 
 as much dignity as though he had been the Physician De Por 
 tal, taking an honorarium from the hands of the Cardinal de 
 Rohan. 
 
 He had communicated his address, and he, perhaps, was not 
 very much surprised when, a few days after, he received a let 
 ter in which he was politely requested to repair to a house in 
 Grosvenor square, for the purpose of mixing a salad for a din 
 ner-party there to be given. D Aubigne obeyed the summons; 
 and, after performing his mission, returned home richer by a 
 five-pound note than when he went out. 
 
 Henceforth he became the fashionable salad-maker; and 
 ladies died for his salads, as they do now for Coustantine s
 
 A STRAY LEAF, 401 
 
 simulative bouquets. He was soon enabled to proceed to bis 
 responsible duties in a carriage ; and a servant attended him, 
 carrying a mahogany case, containing the necessary, ingredients 
 for concocting various salads, according to the respective tastes 
 of his employers. At a later period he sold, by hundreds, simi 
 lar mahogany cases, which he had caused to be made, and 
 which were furnished with all matters necessary for the making 
 an irreproachable salad, and with directions how to administer 
 them. The Chevalier, too, was, like old Carre whose will 
 was so cleverly made by the very disinterested friends who had 
 never before spoken to him a prudent and a saving man; and 
 by the period which re-opened France to the emigres, he had 
 realized some eighty thousand francs, upon which he enjoyed 
 a dignified retirement in a provincial town."* 
 
 This little incident seemed so apposite to our closing pages, 
 that we have been tempted to append it: the moral of which, 
 if it have any, shall be to suggest the hope that our Salad may 
 prove as acceptable as that of the French artist. 
 
 * Dr. Doran s Table Traits. 
 
 THE END.
 
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