Born:
Edward Alleyn,
founder of Dulwich College, 1566, London; Margaret,
Countess of Blessington, novelist, 1789, Knockbrit,
near Clonmel.
Died: Pope Adrian IV,
1159; Dr. Henry More, theologian and philosopher,
1687, Cambridge; Louis XIV of France, 1715,
Versailles; Eusebius Renaudot, oriental scholar, 1720,
Paris; Sir Richard Steele, essayist and dramatist,
1729, Llangunnoruear Caermarthen; Dr. Maurice Greene,
ecclesiastical composer, 1755; John Ireland, dean of
Westminster, theological writer, 1842; William Yarrell,
distinguished naturalist, 1856, Yarmouth.
Feast
Day: Saints Felix, Donatus, Arontius,
Honoratus, Fortunatus, Sabinianus, Septimius,
Januarius, Felix, Vitalis, Satyrus, and Repositus,
twelve brothers, martyrs at Benevento, in Italy. St.
Firminus II, bishop and confessor, 4th century. St.
Lupus or Lew, archbishop of Sens, confessor, about
623. St. Giles, abbot, about 700.
ST.
GILES
Giles or �gidius, a very
eminent saint of the seventh century, is believed to
have been a Greek who migrated to France under the
influence of a desire of greater retirement than he
could enjoy in his own country. Settling in a
hermitage, first in one of the deserts near the mouth
of the Rhone, finally in a forest in the diocese of
Nismes, he gave himself to solitude and heavenly
contemplation with such entire devotion of spirit as
raised him to the highest reputation. There is a
romantic story of, his being partly indebted for his
subsistence to a Heaven-directed hind, which came
daily to give him its milk; and it is added that his
retirement was discovered by the king of the country,
who, starting this animal in the chase, followed it
till it took refuge at the feet of the holy anchorite.
In time, admitting disciples, St. Giles became, almost
against his own will, the head of a little monastic
establishment, which in time grew to be a regular
Benedictine monastery, and was surrounded by a town
taking its name from the saint.
Veneration for St. Giles
caused many churches to be dedicated to him in various
countries. In reference to a legend of his having once
refused to be cured of lameness, the better to mortify
in him all fleshly appetites, he became, as it were,
the patron saint of cripples. It was customary that
Giles's Church should be on the outskirts of a town,
on one of the great thoroughfares leading into it, in
order that cripples might the more conveniently come
to and cluster around it. We have a memorial of this
association of facts in the interesting old church of
St. Giles, Cripplegate, in the eastern part of the
city of London. So early as 1101, Matilda, the queen
of Henry I, founded a hospital for lepers at another
inlet of the metropolis, where now exists the modern
church of St. Giles-in-the-Fields. From an early, but
unascertained time, the parish church of Edinburgh was
dedicated to this French saint.
After it had been undergoing
gradual extension and improvement for ages, one
William Preston of Gorton, travelling in France,
succeeded, with great pains and expense, in obtaining
a most holy relic�an arm-bone of St. Giles�and brought
it home to Scotland, to be placed for perpetuity in
St. Giles's Church. The municipality, in gratitude,
allowed him to raise an aisle in the church, and
granted that he and his successors should have the
privilege of carrying the bone in all processions. It
is curious to trace such past matters amidst a state
of things now so different. So lately as 1556, the
Dean of Guild of Edinburgh expended 12d. in 'mending
and polishing Saint Geles arme.'
A great change was at that
very time impending. When the time for the annual
procession of St. Giles came about in 1558 (1st
September), the populace were found to have stolen the
wooden image of the saint, usually carried on those
occasions, and to have ignominiously burned it. An
attempt was made to effect the procession in the usual
style with a borrowed image; but the proceedings were
interrupted by a riot, and after that time we hear no
more of any religious rites connected with St. Giles
in Scotland. How difficult it is, however, altogether
to eradicate anything religious that has ever once
taken root in a country! There, to this day, on one
side of the coat-armorial of the city of Edinburgh,
you see figuring as a supporter, the hind which
ancient legend represents as nurturing the holy
anchorite in the forests of Languedoc twelve hundred
years ago.
LAST MOMENTS OF
A GREAT KING
Louis XIV had reigned over
France for seventy-two years. He had been allowed to
assume power beyond his predecessors; he had been idolised to a degree unknown
to any other European
sovereign. His wars, though latterly unfortunate, had
greatly contributed to raise him in the eyes of his
subjects. He had enlarged his dominions, and planted a
grandson on the throne of Spain. As specially Le Grand
Monarque amongst all contemporary sovereigns, he was
viewed even by neighbouring nations as a being
somewhat superior to common humanity. It becomes
curious to see how such a demi-god could die.
Up to the 23
rd
of August 1715,
Louis was able to attend council and transact
business; for two days more, he could listen to music
and converse with his courtiers. About seven in the
evening of the 25th, the musicians came as usual to
entertain him; but he felt himself too unwell to
receive them, and his medical advisers were called
instead. It was seen that his hour was approaching,
and the last offices of religion were that night
administered to him.
Next day, after mass, he
called to his bedside the cardinals De Bohan and De
Billi, in presence of Madame de Maintenon (his wife),
the Father Tellier, the chancellor, and other
officers, and said to them ' I die in the faith and
submission of the church. I am not instructed in the
matters which trouble her, but have followed your
counsels, and uniformly done what you desired. If I
have done amiss, you will be answerable before God,
who is now my witness.' [What awfully wrong things
were done!] The two cardinals made no other answer
than by eulogiums on his conduct: he was destined to
be flattered to the last moment of his life.
Immediately after, the king
said: 'I again take God to witness that I have never
borne hatred to the Cardinal de Noailles; I have
always been distressed by what I have done against
him; but it was what they told me I ought to do.'
Thereupon, Blouin, Fagon, and Mareschal asked in
elevated tones: 'Will they not allow the king to see
his archbishop, to mark the reconciliation? The king,
who understood them, declared that, far from having
any objection, he desired it, and ordered the
chancellor to make the archbishop come to him� 'If
these gentlemen,' he said, looking to the two
cardinals, 'do not find it inconvenient.' It was a
critical moment for them.
To leave the conqueror of
heresy to die in the arms of a heretic was a great
scandal in their eyes. They withdrew into the recess
of a window to deliberate with the confessor, the
chancellor, and Madame de Main-tenon. Tellier and
Billi judged the interview too dangerous, and induced
Madame de Maintenon to think so likewise; Rohm and the
chancellor, having the future in view, neither opposed
nor approved; all, once more approaching the bed,
renewed their praises of the delicacy of the royal
conscience, and told him that such a step could not
but subject the good cause to the triumph of its
enemies�nevertheless, they were willing to see the
archbishop come, if he would give the Icing his
promise to accept the constitution. The timid prince
submitted to their advice, and the chancellor wrote in
consequence to the archbishop. Noailles felt keenly
this last stroke of his enemies, answered with
respect, but did not accept the conditions, and could
not see the king. From that time he was nothing but an
ingrate and a rebel, and they spoke of him no more, in
order that the king might die in peace.
The same morning, the king had
the infant dauphin (his great-grandchild, subsequently
Louis XV) brought to him by the Duchess de Ventadour,
and addressed him in these words: 'My child, you will
soon be the sovereign of a great kingdom: what I most
strongly recommend to you, is that you never forget
your obligations to God; remember you owe Him all that
you are. Endeavour to preserve peace with your
neighbours. I have loved war too much. Do not imitate
me in that, nor in my too great expenditure. Take
counsel in all things; seek to know the best, that you
may follow it. Relieve your people as much as you can,
and do for them that which I have had the misfortune
not to be able to do for them myself. Do not forget
the great obligations you are under to Madame de
Ventadour. For me, madam,' turning to her, 'I am sorry
not to be in a condition more emphatically to mark my
gratitude to you.' He ended by saying to the dauphin:
'My dear child, I give you my blessing with all my
heart;' and he then embraced him twice with the
greatest marks of tenderness.
The Duchess de Ventadour,
seeing the king so moved, took away the dauphin. The
king then received, in succession, the princes and
princesses of the blood, and spoke to them all, but
separately to the Duc d'Orleans and the legitimate
children, whom he had made come first. He rewarded all
his domestics for the services they had rendered him,
and recommended them to spew the same attachment to
the dauphin.
After dinner, the king
addressed those about him. ' Gentlemen, I ask your
pardon for the bad. example I have given you. I would
wish to skew my sense of the manner in which you have
always served me, my sense of your invariable
attachment and fidelity. I am extremely vexed not to
have been able to do for you all I wished to do. I ask
you for my great-grandson the same attachment and
fidelity you have shewn to me. I hope you will all
stand unitedly round him, and that, if any one breaks
away, you will aid in bringing him back. I feel that I
am giving way too much, and making you give way
too�pray, pardon me. Adieu, gentlemen; I reckon upon
your occasionally remembering me.'
On Tuesday the 27th, when the
king had no one beside him but Madame de Maintenon
and the chancellor, he caused to be brought to him two
caskets, from which he directed numerous papers to be
taken out and burned, and gave orders to the
chancellor regarding the remainder. Subsequently to
this, he ordered his confessor to be called, and after
speaking to him in a low voice, made the Count of
Pouchartrain approach, and instructed him to carry out
his commands relative to conveying his heart to the
Jesuits' convent, and depositing it there opposite
that of his father, Louis XIII.
With the same composure, Louis
caused the plan of the castle of Vincennes to be taken
from a casket, and sent to the grand marshal of the
household, to enable him to make preparations for the
residence of the court, and conducting thither the
young king�such were the words used. He employed also
occasionally the expression, In the time that I was
king; and then, addressing himself to Madame de
Maintenon, said: 'I have always heard that it is a
difficult thing to die; I am now on the verge of this
predicament, and I do not find the process of
dissolution so painful a one.' Madame de Maintenon
replied, that such a moment was terrible when we still
cherished an attachment to the world and had
restitutions to make. 'As an individual,' rejoined the
king, 'I owe restitution to no one; and as regards
what I owe the kingdom, I trust in the mercy of God. I
have duly confessed myself; my confessor declares that
I have a great reliance in God; I have it with all my
heart.'
How indubitable a security was
Father Tellier for the conscience of a king! The
following day (Wednesday) Louis, as he was conversing
with his confessor, beheld in the glass two of his
servants who were weeping at the foot of his bed. 'Why do you weep,' said he,
'did
you think I was immortal? My age should have prepared
you for my death.' Then looking to Madame de Maintenon, 'What
consoles me in quitting you, is the hope that we shall
soon be reunited in eternity! She made no reply to
this farewell, which did not appear at all agreeable
to her. 'Bolduc, the first apothecary, assured me,'
says Duclos, 'that Madame de Maintenon said, as she
left the room: "See the appointment which he makes
with me! this man has never loved any one but
himself." Such an expression, the authenticity of
which I would not guarantee, as the principal
domestics bore her no good-will, is more suitable to
the widow of Scarron than to a queen.' However this
may be, Madame de Maintenon departed immediately for
Saint-Cyr, with the intention of remaining there.
A Marseille empiric, named
Lebrun, made his appearance with an elixir, which he
announced as a remedy for the gangrene which was
advancing so rapidly in the king's leg. The
physicians, having abandoned all hope, allowed the
king to take a few drops of this liquid, which seemed
to revive him, but he speedily relapsed; a second dose
was presented, his attendants telling him at the same
time that it was to recall him to life. 'To life or
to death,' said the king, taking the glass, 'whatever
pleases God.' He then asked his confessor for a
general absolution.
Since the king had taken to
his bed, the court had gathered in a marked manner
around the Duke of Orleans [the future regent]; but
the king having apparently rallied on Thursday, this
favourable symptom was so exaggerated, that the duke
found himself alone.
The king having noticed the
absence of Madame de Maintenon, exhibited some
chagrin, and asked for her several times. She returned
speedily, and said that she had gone to unite her
prayers with those of her daughters, the virgins of
Saint-Cyr. Throughout the following day, the 30th, she
remained beside the king till the evening, and then
seeing his faculties becoming confused, she went to'
her own room, divided her furniture among her
servants, and returned to Saint-Cyr, from which she no
more emerged.
From this time, Louis had but
slight intervals of consciousness, and thus was spent
Saturday the 31st. About eleven o'clock at night, the
cure, the Cardinal de Rohan, and the ecclesiastics of
the palace came to repeat the prayers appointed for
those in the agonies of death. The ceremony recalled
the dying monarch to himself; he uttered the responses
to the prayers with a loud voice, and still
recognising the Cardinal de Rohan, said to him: 'These
are the last benefits of the church.' Several times he
repeated: 'My God, come to my aid; haste to succour me
and thereupon fell into an agony, which terminated in
death on Sunday the 1st September, at eight o'clock in
the morning.
'Although,' remarks Voltaire,
'the life and death of Louis XIV. were glorious, he
was not so deeply regretted as he deserved. The love
of novelty, the approach of a minority in which each
one anticipated to make his fortune, the constitution
dispute which soured men's minds, all made the
intelligence of his death be received with a feeling
which went further than indifference. We have seen the
same people, which, in 1686, had besought from Heaven
with tears the recovery of its sick king, follow his
funeral procession with very different demonstrations
. . . . Notwithstanding his being blamed for
littleness, for severities in his zeal against
Jansenism, an overweening degree of arrogance in
success towards foreigners, a weakness in female
relationships, too much rigour in personal matters,
wars lightly entered upon, the Palatinate given over
to the flames, and the persecution of the adherents of
the reformed doctrines, still his great qualities and
actions, when placed in the balance, outweigh his
defects. Time, which ripens the opinions of men, has
set its seal on his reputation; and in despite of all
that has been written against him, his name will never
be pronounced without respect, and without conjuring
up the idea of an epoch memorable through all ages. If
we regard this prince in his private life, we see him,
it is true, too full of his exalted position, but
withal affable, refusing to his mother any share in
the government, but fulfilling towards her all the
duties of a son, and observing towards his wife all
the externals of good-breeding; a good father, a good
master, always decorous in public, hard-working in
council, exact in business, just in thought, eloquent
in speech, and amiable with dignity.'
SPORTSMEN'S
SHOOTING-SEASON
The customary usages in
England concerning the dates for commencing the
shooting of game in each year, doubtless had their
origin in the habits of the birds themselves: each
kind of bird being, in reference to its qualities for
the table, and still more for the degree of pleasure
which it affords to the sportsman, best fitted for
attention at certain seasons of the year. There are,
nevertheless, other reasons why shooting is especially
welcome as a sport in connection with the mode of
apportioning time among the wealthy classes in this
country. A writer in the Encyclopaedia Britannica
(art. 'Shooting'), while alluding to the commencement
of grouse-shooting in August, says: 'Many
circumstances contribute to the popularity of
grouse-shooting; among which may be enumerated the
following. It commences during the parliamentary
recess and long vacation�the legislator's, lawyer's,
and collegian's holiday; and it is no wonder that,
after being cooped up all the summer, these or any
other classes of society should seek relaxation in the
sports of the field.
August is the season when
every one, from the peer to the shopkeeper, who can
afford the indulgence, either rusticates or travels.
In that month the casual tourist, the laker, and the
angler, are often in the north, where the temptation
to draw a trigger is irresistible.' It remains not the
less true, however, that the precise days for
beginning and ending each kind of game-shooting is
determined by the legislature. The seasons fixed
are�August 12 to December 10 for grouse; August 20 to
December 10 for black-cock; September 1 to February 1
for partridge; September 1 to March 1 for bustard;
October 1 to February 1 for pheasant. One further
restriction is made in regard to black-cock shooting;
that, in Somerset, Devon, and the New Forest, instead
of commencing on August 20, the opening day must not
be earlier than September 1. This last-named date is
an important one, therefore, in connection with
shooting; seeing that it concerns the fate of
partridges, bustards, and (in some parts of the
kingdom) black-cock. The game-laws, in determining
these dates, were possibly made to bear some relation
to the convenience of farmers, as well as to the
habits of the game.
A landowner has certain rights
in letting out the 'shooting' on his estate. A
game-certificate empowers a sports-man to shoot game;
a game-licence enables a dealer to buy game from the
sportsman; none may shoot or buy but those who hold
these documents, for which duties or fees are paid;
and as farmers are often much troubled by the
proceedings of these sportsmen, it is necessary that
the legislature (if such statutes as game-laws are
needed at all) should define the season before which
and after which the field-ramblings for game shall not
be allowed. The reader, by noticing the civil suits
and the criminal trials reported in the public
journals, will see how frequently there are collisions
between sportsmen, gamekeepers, farmers, and poachers,
arising in various ways out of these matters. Definite
days certainly must be fixed, as the subject now
stands; but there is evidently no natural necessity
that the days should actually be those which have been
selected. Colonel Hawker, a great authority on these
matters, recommends that, except in relation to
black-game, moor-game, and ptarmigan, shooting should
not be allowed until the month of October. His reasons
are as follow:
'By such an arrangement,
thousands of very young partridges, that are not
fair game, would escape being shot by the
gentlemen-poachers, or falling a prey, when in
hedges and hassocks, to the dogs of the pot-hunter.
There would he avoided many disputes between farmers
and eager young sportsmen (perhaps the sons of their
landlords), who sometimes cannot resist following
their game into the corn. There would be an cud of
destroying a whole nide of young pheasants in
standing barley, which is so frequently and so
easily done in September. The hot month of September
was never meant for hard fagging. September is a
month that the agriculturist should devote to his
harvest, and the man of pleasure to sailing,
sea-bathing, fishing, and other summer pursuits. But
when October arrives, the farmer has leisure to
enjoy a little sport after all his hard labour,
without neglecting his business; and the gentleman,
by a day's shooting at that time, becomes refreshed
and invigorated, instead of wearing out himself and
his dogs by slaving after partridges under the
broiling sun of the pre-ceding month. The evenings
begin to close; and he then enjoys his home and his
fireside, after a day's shooting of sufficient
duration to brace his nerves and make everything
agreeable.'
It appears, therefore, that
though the 'First of September' is an important day in
the laws of game, those laws do not necessarily
partake of the inflexibility of the oft-quoted laws of
the Medes and Persians.