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shall hear no more of Whig corruption. Compare the Whig appointinents with those of Blackburne and Napier, and who can deny that bigotry and faction were, in these instances, much more frequently than fitness, the sources of the call to the Inner Bar. All men now know that in genius, in learning, and in powers of advocacy, the Liberal Bar is richer than the Conservative, and its members having, in most cases, neither relatives nor friends upon the Bench, obtain the honors of the profession by work, by proved ability, and by stern self-reliance; not by nepotism, or through a brazen, dishonest, factious partizanship.
When I look back now, upon the events of the past six months, it astounds me to remember how absurdly people used to talk about the Conservative Bar. How its reputation has dwindled away to nothing—to James Whiteside and Joseph Napier !
Oh! Dogberry, Oh! Verges, Oh! Bridlegoose, Oh! Goatsnose, Oh! Midas, (of Kane O'Hara), Oh! Justice Shallow, Oh! all ye spirits of Judges, who have "set the table in a roar, ye gather around me as I write, and lo! ye fade away, resolving yourselves into the embodiment of Joseph Napier and James Whiteside-and as the Chancellor stands before me,
With his hand on his ear;" as the Attorney-General sways, and rocks, and mouths and shouts, as is his custom, I cry, in terror and admiration of Goethe's “ prophetic soul,”
" Das UNBESCHREIBLICH B
At last the INDESCRIBABLE is realized.
Yours, my dear friend, most truly,
AN APPRENTICE OF THE LAW.
IRISH QUARTERLY REVIEW.
No. XXXI.-OCTOBER, 1858.
ART. 1.-ODD PHASES IN LITERATURE.
SEVENTH PAPER. *
1. Analectabiblion, ou Extraits Critiques de Divers Livres
Rares, Oubliés ou Peu connus. Tirés du Cabinet du Marquis D. R
* 2 Tomes. Paris : Techener, 1836. 2. A Collection of Old English Customs and Curious Bequests
and Charities, extracted from the Reports made by the Commissioners for Enquiring into Charities in England and Wales. By H. Edwards. London: Nichols and Son, 1842.
ODD AND SINGULAR TASTES.-Several illustrious men have evinced a marked predilection for certain days in the year. We know that Napoleon felt such a disposition for the 20th of March.
“Charles V.,” said Brantôme, "was particularly fond of the festival of St. Matthias (24th of February), and sanctified it beyond all other days, because on that day he was elected Emperor, on that day crowned, and on that day also he took King Francis prisoner, not himself but through his lieutenants."
Brantôme adds, also, that the Emperor was born on the feast of St. Matthias (24th February, 1500), that on the same day, in 1527, his brother Ferdinand was elected King of Bohemia, and that, on the 24th of February, 1556, he abdicated the empire.
The 1st of January was to Francis I. what the 24th of February was to Charles V. Born on the 1st of January, it was on the 1st of January that this prince lost his father, that he became king, on which his daughter was married, and that on which Charles V. made his entry into Paris.
Sixtus V., born on a Wednesday (13th of December, 1521), made his profession as a Franciscan friar on a Wednesday, was promised a Cardinalship on a Wednesday, was elected Pope on a Wednesday, and exalted to the dignity the following Wednesday
* For the other Papers of this Series see Irish QUARTERLY Review, Vol. VI., No. 23, p. 439; No. 24, p. 647; Vol. VII., No. 25, p. 1; No. 26, p. 267; No. 27, p. 629; Vol. VIII, No. 29, p. 1. NO. XXXI., VOL. VIII.
Louis XIII., some hours before his death (Thursday 14th of May, 1643), called his physicians and asked them if they thought he could live until the next day, saying that Friday had always been to him a fortunate day, that he had on that day engaged in enterprises which were uniformly successful, that he had ever gained battles on that day, that having always considered it his happiest day, he wished he might die on it.
" Augustus,” according to Suetonius, “had a senseless fear of thunder and lightning, and it is believed protected himself from this danger by always carrying about him the skin of a sea-calf. When a storm approached he ran to conceal himself in a subterranean vault or cavern. This fear was occasioned by an incident, during a nocturnal march, in his expedition against the Cantabri, when the lightning having struck his litter, killed the slave who walked before bearing the flambeau.”
A Roman Emperor at the age of fifty-nine, was seized with an insurmountable terror at the sight of the sea. Returning from an expedition into Syria, he sojourned in the palace of a king, on the confines of Asia ; “The chief of Constantinople,” says Nicephorus, (ch. vii.) "commanded the Prefect to build a bridge of boats over the Bosphorus, and to adorn it at each side with planks and branches of trees, in order that he might pass without beholding the sea. This work having been finished very promptly, the Emperor crossed on horseback, as if he had been on dry land."
One of the Spanish kings could not endure any one in his presence who had taken tobacco. He had, besides, the mania of feeling incensed at any man's demanding the age of a woman, unless he had intentions of marriage.
Louis XIV detested les chapeaux gris, almost as much as he did the Jansenists. *
* It is related by Saint-Simon, “the king wished to be informed what manner of people were followers of the Duke of Orleans in Spain, (1709) the Duke mentioned amongst others Fonterpuis. At this name, the king assumed an austere air, “ How is that, my nephew, said the king, Fonterpuis the son of this Jansenist, of this fool who has been running everywhere after Arnaud ? I cannot see of what value this man can be to you,” “Sire," replied the Duke of Orleans, “I do not know what his mother may have been, but as for the son, he has no desire to be a Jansenist, I can vouch for that; for he does not believe even in the existence of a God.”_" Is that possible, my nephew?". replied the king, becoming assuaged,"
"Nothing more certain, Sire,” replied the Duke, “ I assure you,”—“Then if that be so, you can manage him, I see no harm in that." This scene, for I call it by no other name, occurred in the morning, and after dinner the same day, the Duke related to me whilst convulsed with laughter all I have written, word for word.”
Nothing could exceed the timidity, or, we might rather say, the poltroonery, of the celebrated moralist Nicole ; he dreaded travelling, excursions on the water, and to the end of his life he never went into the streets without trembling in incessant fear, lest a tile should fall on his head. He dwelt for a long time in the Faubourg Saint-Marcel, “because," as he said, "the enemies who threatened Paris would enter by the Porte SaintMartin, and would be obliged consequently, to traverse the whole city before they could arrive at his house." In a word, he could say, as the actor who bungled Racine,
" Je crains tout, cher Abner, et n'ai pas d'autre crainte.”
Henry III., who had so decided a passion for little dogs, could not remain in the same room with a cat. The Duke d'Epernon fainted at the sight of a leveret.
Marshal de Brézé (who died in 1650) swooned at the sight of a rabbit, as related by Tallemant.
Marshal d'Albret got ill at a repast where either a sucking pig or a wild boar was served. Erasmus could not even smell fish without getting feverish. Scaliger trembled all over at seeing water cresses. Tycho-Brahe felt his Jimbs failing when he encountered a hare or a fox. Bacon fell into a fainting fit during an eclipse of the moon. Bayle got convulsions when he heard the socnd of water issuing from a spout. Lamothe le Vayer could not endure the sound of any instrument. Favoriti, an Italian poet, who died in 1682, could not bear the odour of the rose.
Many celebrated personages are distinguished by their affection for certain animals. Thus, Alexander cherished Bucephalus; Augustus, a parrot; Commodius, an ape; Heliogabalus, a starling, &c., &c.
Honorius, Emperor of the West, had a profound tenderness for a hen, which, probably, was not reciprocated. Being at Ravenna, and having had the precaution of placing between himself and the Goths the channel of the Adriatic Sea, when after the capture of Rome by Alaric, in 410, the slave having the charge of the imperial aviary came to announce to him that the capital of Italy and of the West was lost. “How is that?” cried the Emperor, dismayed, “How! Rome lost! It was but a moment since she was eating from my hand.” Thus it was towards his favorite hen, whom he called Rome, that the thoughts and anxieties of the monarch reverted, and he felt much relieved when assured that it was not his beloved
bird but the capital of his empire that was lost. “Ah!" rejoined he, “ I thought it was my hen.” So great, adds the Greek historian, Procopius, to whom we are indebted for this anecdote, so great was his stupidity and brutishness.
The celebrated French financier, Samuel Bernard, (who died in 1739), thought his existence was bound up with that of a black hen, who, thanks to this circumstance, experienced much care and tenderness, for God knows how long. They both died about the same time, Bernard having attained his eightyeighth year.
Passeroni, the Italian poet, (who died in 1802,) had a strong affection for a cock, and alluded to it in all his poems.
Saint Evremond and Crébillon were always surrounded by cats and dogs.
Lipsius liked only dogs, and had amongst others, a dog he called Saphir, in whom he surmounted the natural repug. nance of animals of this species for wine. Thus, said he, "I have in some manner assimilated Saphir to man, as he is fond of wine, and subject to the gout."
Godefroy Mind, a Bernais painter, (who died in 1811,) had been surnamed le Raphaël des chats, in consequence of having excelled in painting those animals, towards whom be entertained an ardent affection; he had at all times many of them about him. “During his work," writes M. Depping, “his favourite cat was invariably beside him, with whom he kept up a kind of conversation ; sometimes she occupied his knees, two or three little cats were perched on his shoulders, and he remained in this attitude for hours together, without stirring, lest he should discompose the companions of his solitude.”
It was not alone for one or two species of the animal kingdom, that Denis Rolle, an English member of Parliament, in the eighteenth century, manifested his sympathies, but for all animals without distinction, and he was under the impression that they both knew of, and appreciated his kind intentions. “I have,
wrote he in a pamphlet he composed on the abolition of bull-fights and cock-fights, “I have proved the recognition of wild bears, who, after absence, allowed them. selves to be taken by me and led by the snout. I cannot better exemplify the truth of my axiom than by stating that I have frequently thrust my hand down the throat of a bulldog, and without any particular skill on my part, have been enabled to