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January 17th
Born:
B. de Montfaucon, antiquary, 1655; Archibald Bower,
historical writer, 1686; George Lord Lyttelton,
historian and poet, 1709; Victor Alfieri, poet, 1749;
Johann Wolfgang Theophilus
Mozart, musician, 1756.
Died:
John Ray, naturalist, 1705; Bishop Horne, 1792.
Feast
Day: St. Anthony, patriarch of monks, 356. SS Speusippus, Elcusippns,
Meleusippns, martyrs. St.
Nennins, abbot, 6th century. St. Sulpicius the Pious,
archbishop, 591. St. Sulpicins the second, archbishop,
644. St. Milgithe, virgin, 7th century.
ST. ANTHONY
Antonius, reputed as amongst the earliest of anchorets,
and commonly called the Patriarch of Monks, was a
native of Egypt, born about the year 251. After
leading an ascetic life for some time in his native
village, he withdrew from human society and took up
his abode in a cave. His abstinence, his
self-inflicted punishments, the temptations of the
evil one, the assaults of daemons, and the efficacy of
his prayers, are all narrated by St. Athanasius. His
manner of life was imitated by a great number of
persons, who occasionally resorted to him for advice
and instruction. Antonius seems indeed to have been
the founder of the solitary mode of living, which soon
extended from Egypt into other countries. During the
persecution under Maximinus, about the year 310, some
of the solitaries were seized in the wilderness, and
suffered martyrdom at Alexandria, whither Antonius
accompanied them, but was not subjected to punishment.
After his return, he retired farther into the desert,
but went on one occasion to Alexandria in order to
preach against the Arians.
The two monastic orders of St. Anthony originated long
after the time of the saint,�one in Dauphine, in the
eleventh century; and the other, a military order, in
Hainault, in the fourteenth century. In Dauphine, the
people were cured of the erysipelas, by the aid, as
they thought, of St. Anthony; and the disease was
afterwards called St. Anthony's Fire.
It is
scarcely necessary to remark that St. Anthony is one
of the most notable of all the saints in the Romish
calendar. One cannot travel anywhere in Europe at the
present day, and particularly in Italy, without
finding, in churches and monasteries, and the habits
and familiar ideas of the people, abundant memorials
of this early Egyptian anchorite. Even in Scotland, at
Leith, a street reveals by its name where a monastery
of St. Anthony once stood; while, on the hill of
Arthur's Seat, overhanging Edinburgh, we still see a
fragment of a small church that had been dedicated to
him, and a fountain called St. Anton's Well.
The Temptations of St. Anthony have, through St.
Athanasius's memoir, become one of the most familiar
of European ideas. Scores of artists from Salvator
Rosa downwards, have exerted their talents in
depicting these mystic occurrences. Satan, we are
informed, first tried, by befuddling his thoughts, to
divert him from the design of becoming a monk. Then he
appeared to him in the form successively of a handsome
woman and a black boy, but without in the least
disturbing him. Angry at the defeat, Satan and a
multitude of attendant fiends fell upon him during the
night, and he was found in his cell in the morning
lying to all appearance dead. On another occasion,
they expressed their rage by making such a dreadful
noise that the walls of his cell shook. 'They
transformed themselves into shapes of all sorts of
beasts, lions, bears, leopards, bulls, serpents, asps,
scorpions, and wolves; every one of which moved and
acted agreeably to the creatures which they
represented: the lion roaring and seeming to make
towards him; the bull to butt; the serpent to creep;
and the wolf to run at him, and so, in short, all the
rest; so that Anthony was tortured and mangled by them
so grievously that his bodily pain was greater than
before.' But, as it were laughingly, he taunted them,
and the devils gnashed their teeth. This continued
till the roof of his cell opened, a beam of light shot
down, the devils became speechless, Anthony's pain
ceased, and the roof closed again.
Bishop Latimer relates a 'pretty story' of St.
Anthony, 'who, being in the wilderness, had there a
very hard and strait life, insomuch that none at that
time did the like; to whom came a voice from heaven,
saying, "Anthony, thou art not so perfect as is a
cobbler that dwelleth at Alexandria." Anthony, hearing
this, rose up forthwith and took his staff and went
till he came to Alexandria, where he found the
cobbler. The cobbler was astonished to see so reverend
a father come to his house; when Anthony said unto
him, "Come and tell me thy whole conversation, and how
thou spendest thy time." "Sir," said the cobbler, "as
for me, good works have I none, for my life is but
simple and slender; I am but a poor cobbler. In the
morning when I rise, I pray for the whole city wherein
I dwell, especially for all such neighbours and poor
friends as I have: after I set me at my labour, where
I spend the whole day in getting my living; and I keep
me from all falsehood, for I hate nothing so much as I
do deceitfulness; wherefore, when I make to any man a
promise, I keep to it, and perform it truly. And thus
I spend my time poorly with my wife and children, whom
I teach and instruct, as far as my wit will serve me,
to fear and dread God. And this is the sum of my
simple life." In this story, you see how God loveth
those who follow their vocation and live uprightly
without any falsehood in their dealing. Anthony was a
great holy man; yet this cobbler was as much esteemed
before God as he.'
MONTFAUCON
(on
benefits of avoiding bad habits)
A model of well-spent literary life was that of
Bernard de Montfaucon.
Overlooking many minor works, it is enough to regard
his great ones: Antiquity explained by Figures,
in fifteen folios, containing twelve hundred plates
(descriptive of all that has been preserved to us of
ancient art); and the Monuments of the French
Monarchy, in five volumes.
'He died at the Abbey
of St. Germain des Pre's, in 1741, at the age of
eighty-seven, having preserved his faculties so
entire, that nearly to the termination of his long
career he employed eight hours a day in study. A very
regular and abstemious life had so fortified his
constitution that, during fifty years, he never was
indisposed; nor does it appear that his severe
literary labours had any tendency to abridge his
days.'
Several other literary Nestors could be cited to prove
that the life of an author is not necessarily
unhealthful or short. It is only when literary labour
is carried to an extreme transcending natural power,
or complicated with harassing cares and dissipation,
that it proves destructive. When we see a man of
letters sink at an early age, supposing there has been
no original weakness of constitution, we may be sure
that there has been some of these causes at work.
When, as often happens, a laborious writer like the
late Mr. Britton or Mr. John
Nichols goes on, with the pen in his hand every
day, till he has passed eighty, then we may be equally
sure there has been prudence and temperance. But the
case is general. Health and longevity are connected to
a certain extent with habit. And there is some sense
at bottom in what a quaint friend of ours often half
jocularly declares; namely, that it would, as a rule,
do invalids some good, if they were not so much
sympathised with as they are, if they were allowed to
know that they would be better (because more useful)
members of society if they could contrive to avoid bad
health; which most persons can to a certain extent do
by a decent degree of self-denial, care, and due
activity.
Deep-thinking philosophers have at all times been
distinguished by their great age, especially when
their philosophy was occupied in the study of Nature,
and afforded them the divine pleasure of discovering
new and important truths.... The most ancient
instances are to be found among the Stoics and the
Pythagoreans, according to whose ideas, subduing the
passions and sensibility, with the observation of
strict regimen, were the most essential duties of a
philosopher. We have already considered the example of
a Plato and an Isocrates. Apollonius of Tyan�a, an
accomplished man, endowed with extraordinary powers
both of body and mind, who, by the Christians, was
considered as a magician, and by the Greeks and Romans
as a messenger of the gods, in his regimen a follower
of Pythagoras, and a friend to travelling, was above
100 years of age. Xenophilus, a Pythagorean also,
lived 106 years. The philosopher Demonax, a man of the
most severe manners and uncommon stoical apathy, lived
likewise 100 years.
'Even in modern times philosophers seem to have
obtained this pre-eminence, and the deepest thinkers
appear in that respect to have enjoyed, in a higher
degree, the fruits of their mental tranquillity.
Newton, who found all his happiness and pleasure in
the higher spheres, attained to the age of
eighty-four. Euler, a man of incredible industry,
whose works on the most abstruse subjects amount to
above three hundred, approached near to the same age:
and Kant, the first philosopher now alive, still shews
that philosophy not only can preserve life, but that
it is the most faithful companion of the greatest age,
and an inexhaustible source of happiness to one's self
and others.'�Hufeland's Art of Preserving Life.
THE
DISCONTINUED 'SERVICES.'
It is a
curious proof of that tendency to continuity which
marks all public institutions in England, that the
services appointed for
national thanksgiving on
account of the
Gunpowder Plot, for national
humiliation regarding the execution of
Charles I, and
for thanksgiving with respect to the
Restoration of
Charles II, should have maintained their ground as
holidays till after the middle of the nineteenth
century. National good sense had long ceased to
believe that the Deity had inspired James I with 'a
divine spirit to interpret some dark phrases of a
letter,' in order to save the kingdom from the 'utter
ruin'
threatened by Guy Fawkes
and his associates. National good feeling had equally
ceased to justify the keeping up of the remembrance of
the act of a set of infuriated men, to the offence of
a large class of our fellow-Christians. We had most of
us become very doubtful that the blood of Charles I
was 'innocent blood,' or that he was strictly a
'martyred sovereign,' though few would now-a-days be
disposed to see him punished exactly as he was for his
political short-comings and errors. Still more doubt
had fallen on the blessing supposed to be involved in
the miraculous providence 'by which Charles II was
restored to his kingdom. Indeed, to say the very
least, the feeling, more or less partial from the
first, under which the services on these holidays had
been appointed, had for generations been dead in the
national heart, and their being still maintained was a
pure solecism and a farce.
It was under a sense of this being the case that, at
the convocation of 1857,
Dr Milman, Dean
of St. Paul's, expressed a doubt whether we ought
to command the English nation to employ in a
systematic way opprobrious epithets towards Roman
Catholics, and to apply divine epithets to the two
Charleses. He was supported by Dr. Martin, Chancellor
of the diocese of Exeter. Enough transpired to shew
that Convocation did not attach much value to the
retention of the services. In 1858, Earl Stanhope
brought the matter formally before the House of Lords.
He detailed the circumstances under which the services
had originated; and then moved an address to the
Crown, praying that the Queen would, by royal consent,
abolish the services, as being derogatory to the
present age. He pointed out that, although a nest of
scoundrels planned a wicked thing early in the
seventeenth century, it does not follow that the Queen
should command her subjects to use offensive language
towards Roman Catholics in the middle of the
nineteenth. He also urged that we, in the present day,
have a right to think as we please about the alleged
divine perfections of the sovereigns of the Stuart
family.
From first to last there have been differences of
opinion as to the propriety of these services; many
clergymen positively refused to read them; and the
Dean and Chapter of Canterbury Cathedral omitted them
without waiting for royal authority. It was striking
to observe how general was the support which Earl
Stanhope's views obtained in the House of Lords. The
Archbishop of Canterbury, the Bishops of London and
Oxford, the Earl of Derby, besides those who generally
ranked among liberal peers, supported the address,
which was forthwith carried. A similar address was
passed by the House of Commons. The Queen returned
answers which plainly showed what the advisers of the
Crown thought on the matter. Accordingly, on the 17th
of January 1859, a royal warrant was issued,
abolishing the special services for the three days
named. It was immediately seen, however, that if the
Acts of Parliament still remained in the Statute-book,
clergymen might occasionally be embarrassed in
reference to them; and, accordingly, a new Act was
passed in the same year, repealing the obnoxious
statutes.
Thus was a small but wholesome work done once for all.
The pith of the whole subject is contained in a
sensible observation made by the Archbishop of
Canterbury:
'I hold it to be impossible, even if it
were desirable, that we, at a distance of two or three
centuries, should entertain the feelings or sympathise
with the expressions which are found in these
services; and it is very inexpedient that the people
should be invited to offer up prayers and
thanksgivings in which their hearts take no concern.'
A remark may be offered in addition, at the hazard of
appearing a little paradoxical�that it might be well
if a great deal of history, instead of being
remembered, could be forgotten. It would be a benefit
to Ireland, far beyond the Encumbered Estates Act, if
nearly the whole of her history could be obliterated.
The oblivion of all that Sir
Archibald Alison has
chronicled would be a blessing to both France and
England. Happy were it for England if her war for the
subjugation of America could be buried in oblivion;
and happy, thrice happy, would it be for America in
future, if her warlike efforts of 1861 could be in
like manner forgotten. Above all, it is surely most
desirable that there should be no regular celebration
by any nation, sect, or party, of any special,
transaction, the memory of which is necessarily
painful to some neighbouring state, or some other
section of the same population. Let us just reflect
for a moment on what would be thought of a man who, in
private society, loved to taunt a neighbour with a
lawsuit he had lost fifty years ago, or some
criminality which had been committed by his
great-granduncle! What better is it to remind the
people of Ireland of their defeat at the
Battle of the Boyne, or our
Catholic fellow-Christians of the guilt of the
infatuated Catesby and his companions?
pigs
ST ANTHONY AND THE PIGS: LEGAL PROSECUTIONS OF THE
LOWER ANIMALS
St. Anthony has been long recognized as the
patron and
protector of the lower animals, and particularly of
pigs. Quaint old Fuller, in his Worthies, says:
'St.
Anthony is universally known for the patron of hogs,
having a pig for his page in all pictures, though for
what reason is unknown, except, because being a
hermit, and having a cell or hole digged in the earth,
and having his general repast on roots, he and hogs
did in some sort enter-common both in their diet and
lodging.'
Stow, in
his Survey,
mentions a curious custom prevalent in his time in the
London markets:
'The
officers in this city,' he says, 'did divers times
take from the market people, pigs starved or otherwise
unwholesome for man's sustenance; these they did slit
in the ear. One of the proctors of St. Anthony's
Hospital tied a bell about the neck, and let it feed
upon the dunghills; no one would hurt or take it up;
but if any one gave it bread or other feeding, such it
would know, watch for, and daily follow, whining till
it had somewhat given it; whereupon was raised a
proverb, such a one will follow such a one, and whine
as if it were an Anthony pig.'
This custom
was generally observed, and to it we are indebted for
the still-used proverbial simile�Like a tantony pig.
At Rome, on St. Anthony's day, the religious service
termed the Benediction of Beasts is annually performed
in the church dedicated to him, near Santa Maria
Maggiore. It lasts for some days; for not only every
Roman, from the pontiff' to the peasant, who has a
horse, mule, or ass, sends his cattle to be blessed at
St. Anthony's shrine; but all the English scud their
job-horses and favourite dogs, and for the small
offering of a couple of Paoli get them sprinkled,
sanctified, and placed under the immediate protection
of the saint. A similar custom is observed on the same
day at Madrid and many other places.
On the Continent, down to a comparatively late period,
the lower animals were in all respects considered
amenable to the laws. Domestic animals were tried in
the common criminal courts, and their punishment on
conviction was death; wild animals fell under the
jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts, and their
punishment was banishment and death by exorcism and
excommunication. Nor was the latter a light
punishment. We all know how St. Patrick exorcised the
Irish reptiles into the sea; and St. Bernard, one day,
by peevishly saying, 'Be thou excommunicated' to a
blue-bottle fly, that annoyed him by buzzing about his
ears, unwittingly destroyed the flies of a whole
district. The prerogative of trying the domestic
animals was founded on the Jewish law, as laid down in
Exodus xxi 28, and other places in the Old Testament.
In every instance advocates were assigned to defend
the animals, and the whole proceedings, trial,
sentence, and execution, were conducted with all the
strictest formalities of justice. The researches of
French antiquaries have brought to light the records
of ninety-two processes against animals, tried in
their courts from 1120 to 1740, when the last trial
and execution, that of a cow, took place.
The trials of wild animals of a noxious description,
as rats, locusts, caterpillars, and such like, were,
as has been already mentioned, conducted in the
ecclesiastical courts. The proceedings were
exceedingly complicated, and, not having the sanction
of the Mosaical law, were founded on the following
thesis: As God cursed the serpent, David the mountains
of Gilboa, and our Saviour the barren fig tree; so, in
like manner, the church had full power and authority
to exorcise, anathematise, and excommunicate all
animate and inanimate things. But as the lower
animals, being created before man, were the elder-born
and first heirs of the earth, as God blessed them and
gave them 'every green herb for meat,' as they were
provided for in the ark, and entitled to the
privileges of the sabbath, they must ever be treated
with the greatest clemency, consistent with justice.
Some
learned canonists, however, disputed those
propositions, alleging that authority to try and
punish offences, under the law, implied a contract,
quasi-contract, pact, or stipulation, between the
supreme power that made and administered the law, and
those subjected to it.
They contended, that, the lower animals being devoid
of intelligence, no such pact ever had been or could
be made; and that punishments for injuries committed
unintentionally and in ignorance of the law, were
unjust. They questioned, also, the authority of the
Church to anathematise those whom she did not
undertake to baptize, and adduced the example of the
Archangel Michael, who, when contending with Satan for
the body of Moses, did not make a railing accusation
against the 'Old Serpent,' but left it to the Lord to
rebuke him. Such discussions appear like the amusing
inventions of Rabelais, or Swift; but
they were no
jesting matter to the simple agriculturists who
engaged in those litigations.
The general course of a process was as follows: The
inhabitants of the district being annoyed by certain
animals, the court appointed experts to survey and
report upon the damage committed. An advocate was then
appointed to defend the animals, and shew cause why
they should not be summoned. They were then cited
three several times, and not appearing, judgment was
given against them by default. The court next issued a
monitoure, warning the animals to leave the district
within a certain time, under penalty of adjuration;
and if they did not disappear on or before the period
appointed, the exorcism was with all solemnity
pronounced. This looks straightforward enough, but the
delays and uncertainties of the law�ecclesiastical law
especially�have long been proverbial. The courts, by
every available moans of delay, evaded the last
extremity of pronouncing the exorcism, probably lest
the animals should neglect to pay attention to it.
Indeed, it is actually recorded that, in some
instances, the noxious animals, instead of 'withering
off the face of the earth,' after being anathematised,
became more abundant and destructive than before. This
the doctors, learned in the law, attributed neither to
the injustice of the sentence, nor want of power of
the court, but to the malevolent antagonism of Satan,
who, as in the case of Job, is at certain times
permitted to tempt and annoy mankind.
A lawsuit between the inhabitants of the commune of
St. Julien, and a coleopterous insect, now known to
naturalists as the Eynchitus aureus, lasted for more
than forty-two years. At length the inhabitants
proposed to compromise the matter by giving up, in
perpetuity, to the insects, a fertile part of the
district for their sole use and benefit. Of course the
advocate of the animals demurred to the proposition;
but the court, overruling the demurrer, appointed
assessors to survey the land, and, it proving to be
well wooded and watered, and every way suitable for
the insects, ordered the conveyance to be engrossed in
due form and executed. The unfortunate people then
thought they had got rid of a trouble imposed on them
by their litigious fathers and grandfathers; but they
were sadly mistaken. It was discovered that there had
formerly been a mine or quarry of an ochreous earth,
used as a pigment, in the land conveyed to the
insects; and though the quarry had long since been
worked out and exhausted, some one possessed an
ancient right of way to it, which if exercised would
be greatly to the annoyance of the new proprietors.
Consequently the contract was vitiated, and the whole
process commenced de novo. How or when it ended, the
mutilation of the recording documents prevents us from
knowing; but it is certain that the proceedings
commenced in the year 1445, and that they had not
concluded in 1487. So what with the insects, the
lawyers, and the church, the poor inhabitants must
have been pretty well fleeced. During the whole period
of a process, religious processions and other
expensive ceremonies that had to be well paid for,
were strictly enjoined. Besides, no district could
commence a process of this kind unless all its arrears
of tithes were paid up; and this circumstance gave
rise to the well-known French legal maxim�' The first
step towards getting rid of locusts is the payment of
tithes;' an adage that in all probability was
susceptible of more meanings than one.
The summonses were served by an officer of the court,
reading them at the places where the animals
frequented. These citations were written out with all
technical formality, and, that there might be no
mistake, contained a description of the animals. Thus,
in a process against rats in the diocese of Autun, the
defendants were described as dirty animals in the form
of rats, of a greyish colour, living in holes. This
trial is famous in the annals of French law, for it
was at it that Chassanee, the celebrated jurisconsult�the
Coke of France�won his first laurels. The rats not
appearing on the first citation, Chassanee, their
counsel, argued that the summons was of a too local
and individual character; that, as all the rats in the
diocese were interested, all the rats should be
summoned, in all parts of the diocese.
This
plea being admitted, the curate of every parish in the
diocese was instructed to summon every rat for a
future day. The day arriving, but no rats, Chassanee
said that, as all his clients were summoned, including
young and old, sick and healthy, great preparations
had to be made, and certain arrangements carried into
effect, and therefore he begged for an extension of
time. This also being granted, another day was
appointed, and no rats appearing, Chassanee objected
to the legality of the summons, under certain
circumstances. A summons from that court, he argued,
implied full protection to the parties summoned, both
on their way to it and on their return home; but his
clients, the rats, though most anxious to appear in
obedience to the court, did not dare to stir out of
their holes on account of the number of evil-disposed
cats kept by the plaintiffs. Let the latter, he
continued, enter into bonds, under heavy pecuniary
penalties, that their cats shall not molest my
clients, and the summons will be at once obeyed. The
court acknowledged the validity of this plea; but, the
plaintiffs declining to be bound over for the good
behaviour of their cats, the period for the rats'
attendance was adjourned sine die; and thus, Chassanee
gaining his cause, laid the foundation of his future
fame.
Though
judgment was given by default, on the non-appearance
of the animals summoned, yet it was considered
necessary that some of them should be present when the
monitore was delivered. Thus, in a process against
leeches, tried at Lausanne, in 1451, a number of
leeches were brought into court to hear the monitoire
read, which admonished them to leave the district in
three days. The leeches, proving contumacious, did not
leave, and consequently were exorcised. This exorcism
differing slightly from the usual form, some canonists
adversely criticised, while others defended. it. The
doctors of Heidelberg, then a famous seat of learning,
not only gave it their entire and unanimous
approbation, but imposed silence upon all impertinents
that presumed to speak against it. And, though they
admitted its slight deviation from the recognised
formula made and provided for such purposes, yet they
triumphantly appealed to its efficiency as proved by
the result; the leeches, immediately after its
delivery, having died off, day by day, till they were
utterly exterminated.
 Among trials of individual animals for special acts of
turpitude, one of the most amusing was that of a sow
and her six young ones, at Lavegny, in 1457, on a
charge of their having murdered and partly eaten a
child. Our artist has endeavoured to represent this
scene; but we fear that his sense of the ludicrous has
incapacitated him for giving it with the due
solemnity. The sow was found guilty and condemned to
death; but the pigs were acquitted on account of their
youth, the bad example of their mother, and the
absence of direct proof as to their having been
concerned in the eating of the child.
These suits against animals not unfrequently led to
more serious trials of human beings, on charges of
sorcery. Simple country people, finding the regular
process very tedious and expensive, purchased charms
and exorcisms from empirical, unlicensed exorcists, at
a much cheaper rate. But, if any of the parties to
this contraband traffic were discovered, death by
stake and fagot was their inevitable fate�infernal
sorcerers were not to presume to compete with holy
church. Still there was one animal, the serpent,
which, as it had been cursed at a very early period in
the world's history, might be exorcised and charmed
(so that it could not leave the spot where it was
first seen) by any one, lay or cleric, without the
slightest imputation of sorcery. The formula was
simply thus:
'By Him
who created thee, I adjure thee, that thou remain in
the spot where thou art, whether it be thy will to do
so or otherwise; and I curse thee with the curse with
which the Lord hath cursed thee.'
But if a wretched shepherd was convicted of having
uttered the following nonsense, termed 'the prayer of
the wolf,' he was burned at the stake:
Come, beast of wool, thou art the lamb of humility! I
will protect thee. Go to the right about, grim, grey,
and greedy beasts! Wolves, she-wolves, and young
wolves, ye are not to touch the flesh, which is here.
Get thee behind me, Satan!'
French
shepherds suffered fearfully in the olden time,
through being frequently charged with sorcery; and,
among the rustic population, they are still looked
upon as persons who know and practise dark and
forbidden arts.
Legal proceedings against animals were not confined to
France. At Basle, in 1474, a cock was tried for having
laid an egg. For the prosecution it was proved that
cocks' eggs were of inestimable value for mixing in
certain magical preparations; that a sorcerer would
rather possess a cock's egg than be master of the
philosopher's stone; and that, in pagan lands, Satan
employed witches to hatch. such eggs, from which
proceeded animals most injurious to all of the
Christian faith and race. The advocate for the defence
admitted the facts of the case, but asked what evil
animus had been proved against his client, what injury
to man or beast had it effected? Besides, the laying
of the egg was an involuntary act, and as such, not
punishable by law.
If the
crime of sorcery were imputed, the cock was innocent;
for there was no instance on record of Satan ever
having made a compact with one of the brute creation.
In reply, the public prosecutor alleged that, though
the devil did not make compacts with brutes, he
sometimes entered into them; and though the swine
possessed by devils, as mentioned in Scripture, were
involuntary agents, yet they, nevertheless, were
punished by being caused to run down a steep place
into the sea, and so perished in the waters. The
pleadings in this case, even as recorded by Hammerlein,
are voluminous; we only give the meagre outlines of
the principal pleas; suffice it to say, the cock was
condemned to death, not as a cock, but as a sorcerer
or devil in the form of a cock, and was with its egg
burned at the stake, with all the due form and
solemnity of a judicial punishment.
As the lower animals were anciently amenable to law in
Switzerland, so, in peculiar circumstances, they could
be received as witnesses. And we have been informed,
by a distinguished Sardinian lawyer, that a similar
law is still, or was to a very late period, recognised
in Savoy. If a man's house was broken into between
sunset and sunrise, and the owner of the house killed
the intruder, the act was considered a justifiable
homicide. But it was considered just possible that a
man, who lived all alone by himself, might invite or
entice a person, whom he wished to kill, to spend the
evening with him, and after murdering his victim,
assert that he did it in defence of his person and
property, the slain man having been a burglar. So when
a person was killed under such circumstances, the
solitary house-holder was not held innocent, unless he
produced a dog, a cat, or a cock that had been an
inmate of the house, and witnessed the death of the
person killed. The owner of the house was compelled to
make his declaration of innocence on oath before one
of those animals, and if it did not contradict him, he
was considered guilt-less; the law taking for granted,
that the Deity would cause a miraculous manifestation,
by a dumb animal, rather than allow a murderer to
escape from justice.
In Spain and Italy the lower animals were held subject
to the laws, as in France. Azpilceuta of Navarre, a
renowned Spanish. canonist, asserts that rats when
exorcised were ordered to depart for foreign
countries, and that the obedient animals would,
accordingly, march down in large bodies to the
sea-coast, and thence set off by swimming in search of
desert islands, where they could live and enjoy
themselves, without annoyance to man. In Italy, also,
processes against caterpillars and other 'small deer'
were of frequent occurrence; and certain large fishes
called terons, that used to break the fishermen's
nets, were annually anathematised from the lakes and
headlands of the north-western shores of the
Mediterranean. Apropos of fishes, Maffei, the learned
Jesuit, in his history of India, tells a curious
story. A Portuguese ship, sailing to Brazil, fell
becalmed in dangerous proximity to a large whale. The
mariners, terrified by the uncouth gambols of the
monster, improvised a summary process, and duly
exorcised the dreaded cetacean, which, to their great
relief, immediately sank to the lowest depths of
ocean.
THE
SHREWSBURY TRIPLE FIGHT
On the 17th January 1667-8, there took place a piece
of private war which, in its prompting causes, as well
as the circumstances under which it was fought out,
forms as vivid an illustration of the character of the
age as could well be de-sired. The parties were George
Villiers, Duke of
Buckingham, attended by Sir
Robert Holmes and Captain
William Jenkins, on one
side; and Francis Talbot,
Earl of Shrewsbury,
attended
by Sir John Talbot, a gentleman of the King's Privy
Chamber, and Bernard Howard,
a younger son of the Earl of Arundel, on the other.
Pepys, in reference to this
'duell,' as he terms it,
says, it was all 'about my Lady Shrewsbury, at that
time, and for a great while before, a mistress to the
Duke of Buckingham; and so her husband challenged him,
and they met; and my Lord Shrewsbury was run through
the body, from the right breast through the shoulder;
and Sir John Talbot all along up one of his arms; and
Jenkins killed upon the place, and the rest all in a
little measure wounded.' (Pepys's Diary, iv. 15.) A
pardon under the great seal, dated on February the 5th
following, was granted to all the persons concerned in
this tragical affair; the result of which proved more
disastrous than had at first been anticipated, for
Lord Shrewsbury died in consequence of his wound, in
the course of the same year.
It is reported that during the fight the Countess of
Shrewsbury held her lover's horse, in the dress of a
page. This lady was
Anna Maria Brudenell, daughter of Robert Earl of
Cardigan. She survived both her gallant and her first
husband, and was married, secondly, to
George Rodney Brydges,
of Keynsham, in Somersetshire.
January 18th
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