Boeoticus inquires (Vol. vi., p 209.) whence comes the line— "Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor." In p.352. of the same volume W. W. T. (quoting from D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature a passage which supplies the hexameter completing the distich, and attributes the verses to Sidonius Apollinaris) asks where may be found a legend which represents the two lines to have formed part of a dialogue between the fiend, under the form of a mule, and a monk, who was his rider. B.H.C., at p.521. of the same volume, sends a passage from the Dictionnaire LittÉraire, giving the complete distich: "Signa te, signa, temere me tangis et angis. Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor," and attributing it to the devil, but without supplying any more authentic parentage for the lines. The following Note will contribute a fact or two to the investigation of the subject; but I shall be obliged to conclude by reiterating the original Query of Boeoticus, Who was the real author of the lines? In a little work entitled A Summer in Brittany, published by me in 1840, may be found (at p.99. of vol. i.) a legend, which relates how one Jean Patye, canon of Cambremer, in the chapter of Bayeux, rode the devil to Rome, for the purpose of there chanting the epistle at the midnight mass at Christmas, according to the tenor of an ancient bond, which obliged the chapter to send one of their number yearly to Rome for that purpose. This story I met with in a little volume, entitled Contes populaires, PrÉjugÉs, Patois, Proverbes de l'Arrondissement de Bayeux, recueillis et publiÉs, par F. Pluquet, the frontispiece of which consists of a sufficiently graphic representation of the worthy canon's feat. Pluquet concludes his narrative by stating that—
It should seem that this trick of carrying people to Rome was attributed to the devil, by those conversant with his habits, in other centuries besides the nineteenth. I have not here the means of looking at the work to which Pluquet refers; but if any of your correspondents, who live in more bookish lands than this, will do so, they may perchance obtain some clue to the original authorship of the lines; for in Sidonius Apollinaris I cannot find them. The only edition of his works to which I have the means of referring is the quarto of Adrien Perrier, Paris, 1609. Among the verses contained in that volume, I think I can assert that the lines in question are not. We all know that the worthy author of the Curiosities of Literature cannot be much depended upon for accuracy. Once again, then, Who was the author of this specimen, perhaps the most perfect extant, of palindromic absurdity? Florence. CHILDREN CRYING AT THEIR BIRTH.
"Tum porro Puer, ut sÆvis projectus ab undis Navita, nudus, humi jacet, Infans, indigus omni Vitali auxilio; cum primum in luminis oras Nixibus ex alvo matris natura profudit: Vagituque locum lugubri complet, ut Æquum est, Cui tantum in vita restet transire malorum." Lucret. De Rer. Nat., v. 223. For the benefit of the lady-readers of "N. & Q." I subjoin a translation of these beautiful lines of Lucretius:
"Thou must be patient: we came crying hither; Thou know'st, the first time that we smell the air, We wawle and cry— When we are born, we cry that we are come To this great stage of fools."—Shakspeare's Lear.
The following queries are extracted from Sir Thomas Browne's "Common-place Books," Aristotle, Lib. Animal.:
Thompson follows Pliny, and says that man is "taught alone to weep" ("Spring," 350.); but—not to speak of the "Cruel crafty crocodile, Which, in false grief hiding his harmful guile, Doth weep full sore and sheddeth tender tears," as Spenser sings—the camel weeps when over-loaded, and the deer when chased sobs piteously. Thompson himself in a passage he has stolen from Shakspeare, makes the stag weep: ——"he stands at bay; The big round tears run down his dappled face; He groans in anguish."—Autumn, 452.
Risibility, and a sense of the ridiculous, is generally considered to be the property of man, though Le Cat states that he has seen a chimpanzee laugh. The notion with regard to a child crying at baptism has been already touched on in these pages, Vol. vi., p.601.; Vol. vii., p.96. Grose (quoted in Brand) tells us there is a superstition that a child who does not cry when sprinkled in baptism will not live; and the same is recorded in Hone's Year-Book. UNPUBLISHED LETTER OF LORD NELSON.The following letter of Lord Nelson may, especially at the present moment, interest and amuse some of the readers of "N. & Q." The original is in my possession, and was given me by the late Miss Churchey of Brecon, daughter of the gentleman to whom it was addressed. Can any of your readers inform me where the "old lines" quoted by the great hero are to be found? Ryde, Isle of Wight. Sir, Your idea is most just and proper, that a provision should be made for midshipmen who have served a certain time with good characters, and certainly twenty pounds is a very small allowance; but how will your surprise be increased, when I tell you that their full pay, when watching, fighting and bleeding for their country at sea, is not equal to that sum. An admiral's half-pay is scarcely equal, including the run of a kitchen, to that of a French cook; a captain's but little better than a valet's; and a lieutenant's certainly not equal to a London footman's; a midshipman's nothing. But as I am a seaman, and faring with them, I can say nothing. I will only apply some very old lines wrote at the end of some former war: "Our God and sailor we adore, In time of danger, not before; The danger past, both are alike requited, God is forgotten, and the sailor slighted." Your feelings do you great honour, and I only wish all others in the kingdom were the same. However, if ever I should be placed in a situation to be useful to such a deserving set of young men as our mids, nothing shall be left undone which may be in the power of, Dear Sir, Your most obedient servant, Nelson and Bronte. Walton Churchey, Esq., Brecon, S. Wales. FOLK LORE.Devonshire Superstitions.—Seeing that you sometimes insert extracts from newspapers, I forward you a copy of a paragraph which appeared in The Times of March 7, 1854, and which is worth a corner in your folk-lore columns:
Quacks.—In the neighbourhood of Sevenoaks, Kent, a little girl was bitten by a mad dog lately. Instead of sending for the doctor, her father posted off to an old woman famous for her treatment of hydrophobia. The old woman sent a quart bottle of some dark liquid, which the patient is to take twice or thrice daily: and for this the father, though but a poor labourer, had to pay one pound. The liquid is said by the "country sort" to be infallible. It is made of herbs plucked by the old woman, and mixed with milk. Its preparation is of course a grand secret. As yet, the child keeps well. Near Whitechapel, London, is another old woman, equally famous; but her peculiar talent is not for hydrophobia, but for scalds. Whenever any of the Germans employed in the numerous sugar-refineries in that neighbourhood scald themselves, they beg, instead of being sent to the hospital, to be taken to the old woman. For a few sovereigns, she will take them in, nurse, and cure them; and I was informed by a proprietor of a large sugar-house there, that often in a week she will heal a scald as thoroughly as the hospital will in a month, and send the men back hearty and fit for work to boot. She uses a good deal of linseed-oil, I am told; but her great secret, they say, is, that she gives the whole of her time and attention to the patient. Temple. Burning a Tooth with Salt.—Can any one tell us whence originates the custom, very scrupulously observed by many amongst the common people, when a tooth has been taken out, of burning it—generally with salt? Half Moon Street. PARALLEL PASSAGES."The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of."—Macbeth, Act II. Sc. 3. "These spells are spent, and, spent with these, The wine of life is on the lees."—Marmion, introd. to canto i.
"But earthlier happy is the rose distilled Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn, Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness."—Midsum. Night's Dream, Act I. Sc. 1.
"And spires whose silent finger points to heaven." (?) "And the white spire that points a world of rest."—Mrs. Sigourney, Connecticut River. "She walks the waters like a thing of life."—Byron. "The master bold, The high-soul'd and the brave, Who ruled her like a thing of life Amid the crested wave."—Mrs. Sigourney, Bell of the Wreck. "Thy heroes, tho' the general doom Have swept the column from the tomb, A mightier monument command,— The mountains of their native land!"—Byron. "Your mountains build their monument, Tho' ye destroy their dust."—Mrs. Sigourney, Indian Names. "Else had I heard the steps, tho' low And light they fell, as when earth receives, In morn of frost, the wither'd leaves That drop when no winds blow."—Scott, Triermain, i. 5. "Dropp'd, like shed blossoms, silent to the grass."—Hood, Mids. Fairies, viii. "There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass."—Tennyson, Lotos-eaters. "Two such I saw, what time the labour'd ox In his loose traces from the furrow came."—Milton, Comus. "While labouring oxen, spent with toil and heat, In their loose traces from the field retreat."—Pope, Pastoral, iii. "It is the curse of kings, to be attended By slaves that take their humours for a warrant To break into the bloody house of life, And, on the winking of authority, To understand a law: to know the meaning Of dangerous majesty, when perchance it frowns More upon humour than advised respect."—King John, Act IV. Sc. 2. "O curse of kings! Infusing a dread life into their words, And linking to the sudden transient thought The unchangeable, irrevocable deed!"—Coleridge, Death of Wallenstein, v. 9. "Conscience! . . . . . . Your lank jawed, hungry judge will dine upon 't, And hang the guiltless rather than eat his mutton cold."—C. Cibber, Richard III. "The hungry judges soon the sentence sign, And wretches hang that jurymen may dine."—Pope, Rape of the Lock, iii. 21. "Death and his brother Sleep." Quoted (from Shelley) with parallel passages from Sir T. Browne, Coleridge, and Byron in "N. & Q.," Vol. iv., p.435. Add to them the following: "Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night, Brother to Death, in silent darkness born." Samuel Daniel, Spenser's successor as "voluntary Laureate." "Care-charming Sleep, thou easer of all woes, Brother to Death."—Fletcher, Valentinian. "The death of each day's life."—Shakspeare, Macbeth, Act II. Sc. 2. "Teach me to live, that I may dread The grave as little as my bed."—Bishop Ken. "We thought her sleeping when she died; And dying, when she slept."—Hood. "Somne levis, quanquam certissima mortis imago Consortem cupio te tamen esse tori; Alma quies, optata, veni, nam sic sine vit Vivere quam suave est; sic sine morte mori."—T. Warton. [Finely translated by Wolcot.] "Come, gentle sleep! attend thy vot'ry's pray'r, And, though Death's image, to my couch repair; How sweet, though lifeless, yet with life to lie, And, without dying, oh, how sweet to die!" "While sleep the weary world reliev'd, By counterfeiting death revived."—Butler, Hudibras. "Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, And look on death itself!"—Shakspeare, Macbeth, Act II. Sc. 3. "Nature, alas! why are thou so Obliged unto thy greatest foe? Sleep that is thy best repast, Yet of death it bears a taste, And both are the same things at last."—Dennis, Sophonisba. "Great Nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast."—Shakspeare, Macbeth, Act II. Sc. 2.
"Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico."—Hor. Sat. v. 44.
"The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy heart with hoops of steel." "But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade."—Shakspeare, Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 3.
"—— The apparel oft proclaims the man."—Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 3. "Unus PellÆo juveni non sufficit orbis: Æstuat infelix angusto limite mundi, Ut GyarÆ clausus scopulis, parvÂque Seripho."—Juv. x. 168.
"King. —— You must know, your father lost a father; That father lost—lost his; . . . . . . . . . . . To reason most absurd, whose common theme Is death of fathers, and who still hath cry'd, From the first corse, 'till he that died to-day, This must be so."—Hamlet, Act I. Sc. 2.
Having observed several Notes in different Numbers of your interesting publication, in which sentences have been quoted from the works of ancient and modern authors that are almost alike in words, or contain the same ideas clothed in different language, I would only add, that those of your readers or correspondents who take an interest in such inquiries will find instances enough, in a work which was published in Venice in 1624, to fill several columns of "N. & Q." The volume is entitled Il Seminario de Governi di Stato, et di Guerra. Malta. |