Born:
John Calvin,
theologian, 1509, Noyon, Picardy; John Ernest Garabe,
religious controversialist, 1666, Konigsberg; Sir
William Blackstone, writer on English law, 1723,
Cheapside, London; Frederick Marryatt, novelist, 1792,
London.
Died: Emperor Adrian,
138; Pope Benedict VII, 983; Pope Benedict VIII, 1024;
Henry II of France, 1559; William, first Prince of
Orange, assassinated at Delft, 1584; Louis Moreri
(Historical and Critical Dictionary), 1680, Lyon;
Francois Eudes de Mezerai, historian, 1683; Bishop
Fell, 1686, Oxford; Dr. Alexander Monro, professor of
anatomy, 1767, Edinburgh; David Rittenhouse,
astronomer, 1796, Philadelphia, U. S.
Feast Day: The Seven
Brothers, martyrs, 2nd century. Saints Rufina and
Secunda, virgins and martyrs, 3rd century.
THE KORNAN BEIRAN
The Korban Beiram, or feast of
sacrifices, is one of the greatest solemnities of the
Mohammedan religion. On this day every family of the
true believers offers a sheep to God, and the streets
of their cities are filled with men carrying the
destined victim on their backs. Among the Arabs the
festival begins at the early hour of four A.M., when
immense crowds collect at the residence of the nearest
pacha or bey, awaiting his appearance in the court of
the palace. The fanciful style of eastern costume
renders the scene both original and picturesque. All
the sheiks are arranged on one side: in the front
stand the officers and ministers of the pacha. At five
o'clock his highness, accompanied by the members of
his family and his staff, makes his entree: cannon are
fired, the peculiar bands of the East play airs
suitable for this religious ceremony. The
chief-captain of the hussars of the palace announces
to the crowd, in a solemn voice, that the hour of
sacrifice has arrived, and that his highness, after
prayer, will be present at this important act. All
then adjourn to the mosque, the body of imams or
priests entering with the suite of the pacha. As soon
as the sacrifice is over, the pacha re-enters the
court, and seated on an elevated throne, all those of
high rank have the privilege of kissing his hand; the
inferiors slightly touch it with their lips. This
occupies an hour, when all retire to take coffee; the
captain thanking the crowd for their presence as a
mark of attachment to their ruler.
DON PANTALEON SA
On
the 10th of July 1653, Don Pantaleon Sa, a Portuguese
nobleman, brother of the ambassador from that country
to England, and a Knight of Malta, was beheaded on
Tower Hill. The peculiar circumstances of Don
Pantaleon's untimely fate, and a remarkable
coincidence connected with the affair, render it not
unworthy of our notice.
At that time there was, on the
south side of the Strand, a kind of bazaar called the
New Exchange; the buildings of the Adelphi now cover
its site. It was opened in 1608 by James I, who named
it 'Britain's Burse,' but in popular parlance it never
received any other designation than the New Exchange.
It consisted of four rows or walks�two on the
ground-floor, and two upstairs, each being lined with
small shops, where all kinds of fancy articles were
sold. As a place to lounge in, to walk, and talk, and
hear the news, as our American cousins say, the New
Exchange succeeded to Paul's Walk; but, with this
difference, Paul's Walk was only used by gentlemen;
while the shops in the New Exchange being especially
devoted to the sale of gloves, perfumes, fans, and
other feminine necessities or luxuries, its walks were
frequented by the gay and fashionable of both sexes.
Many scenes in our old comedies are laid in this
place; and most old libraries contain whity-brown
pamphlets, entitled News from the New Exchange, or New
News from the New Exchange; but as in most of these
scurrility and indecency take the place of wit and
humour, the less we say about them the better.
It happened that, in the
November of 1652, Don Pantaleon was walking in the New
Exchange, with some of his countrymen, when a quarrel
arose between them and a young English gentleman of
good family, named Gerrard. The cause of the quarrel,
as is usual in such occurrences, was of a most trivial
kind. Mr. Gerrard accused the Portuguese of speaking,
in French, disparagingly of England; they, on the
other hand, alleged that he rudely pushed between
them, without any provocation. Whatever may have been
the original cause, swords were drawn, and passes
exchanged; but the good sense of a few unarmed
Englishmen, who were present, stopped the fray, by
separating the combatants, and hustling the Portuguese
out of the Exchange, one of them with a cut cheek,
leaving Gerrard slightly wounded in the shoulder. The
next day, Don Pantaleon, with fifty well-armed
followers, came to the Exchange, to take his revenge.
Fortunately, few Englishmen were there at the time,
but of these, four were severely wounded by the
Portuguese, and a Mr. Greenway, while walking with his
sister and a lady to whom he was betrothed, being
mistaken for Gerrard, was killed by a pistol-shot
through the head. A great and enraged crowd soon
collected, before which the Portuguese retreated,
taking shelter in their house of embassy.
Colonel Whaley, who commanded
the horse-guard on duty, proceeded to disperse the
crowd, and demand the criminals from the Portuguese
ambassador. The latter insisted that, by the law of
nations, his house was an inviolable sanctuary for all
his countrymen; and begged that the circumstances
should be at once made known to the Lord Protector.
Cromwell sent a messenger, in reply, to state that if
the criminals were not given up to the civil
authorities, the soldiers would be withdrawn, and the
mob left to do as they pleased in the matter. Under
this threat, Don Pantaleon, three Portuguese, and 'an
English boy,' were given up; they were confined in the
guard-house for the night, and next day committed to Newgate. By the
intercession of the Portuguese
merchants, their trial was delayed till the 6th of
July in the following year, when they were arraigned
for the crime of murder.
At first, Don Pantaleon
refused to plead, claiming the immunity of an
ambassador; he holding a commission to act in that
high capacity, in the event of his brother's death, or
absence from England. On being told that, if he did
not plead he would be submitted to the press, he
pleaded not guilty. A mixed jury, of Englishmen and
foreigners, brought in a verdict of guilty, and the
five prisoners were sentenced to be hanged on the 8th.
Every effort was made, by the Portuguese and other
ambassadors, to save Don Pantaleon's life, but without
avail. Either to supplications or threats, Cromwell
made no other reply than, 'Blood has been shed, and
justice must be satisfied.' The only mercy granted to
Don Pantaleon was a respite of two days, from the 8th
to the 10th, and a reprieve from the disgraceful death
of hanging, Don Guimarez, the ambassador, having
requested that he might be permitted to kill his
brother with his own sword, rather than he should be
hanged.
In the meantime, while Don
Pantaleon was a prisoner in Newgate, awaiting his
trial, Gerrard, with whom the unhappy quarrel had
arisen, becoming concerned in a plot to assassinate
Cromwell, was tried and condemned to be hanged also.
And in his case, too, his gentle blood and profession
of arms being taken into consideration, the punishment
of hanging was changed to beheading. So, as Don
Pantaleon, attended by a number of his brother's
followers, was being conveyed in a mourning coach with
six horses, from Newgate to the place of execution,
Gerrard was expiating his crime on the same scaffold
to which the other was hastening. It has been said
that they met on the scaffold, but without truth,
though Don Pantaleon suffered immediately after
Gerrard. The three other Portuguese were pardoned, but
the person described as the 'English boy,' was hanged
at Tyburn on the same day. The
inflexible conduct of
Cromwell on this occasion, gave him great credit, even
among his enemies in England, for his justice; while
it impressed foreign nations with a salutary sense of
his power; and the case has ever since been considered
as a precedent in all questions respecting the
privileges of ambassadors.
THE TWO
COUNTESSES OF KELLIE
On this day, in the year 1781,
Mr. Methven Erskine, a cadet of the Kellie family,
married at Edinburgh Joanna, daughter of the deceased
Adam Gordon, of Ardoch, in Aberdeenshire. A brother of
the gentleman, named Thomas, had, ten years before,
married Anne, another daughter of Mr. Gordon. These
gentlemen were in the position of merchants, and there
were at one time seventeen persons between them and
the family titles; yet they lived to become, in
succession, Earls of Kellie, being the last who
enjoyed that peerage, separately from any other.
It was by a series of very
singular circumstances, hitherto unnarrated, that
these two marriages came about. The facts were thus
related to the writer in 1845, by a lady then upwards
of ninety years of age, who had had opportunities of
becoming well acquainted with all the particulars.
At Ardoch Castle�which is
situated upon a tall rock overlooking the sea�the
proprietor, Mr. Gordon, was one evening, a little
after the middle of the last century, alarmed by the
firing of a gun, evidently from a vessel in distress
near shore. A storm was raging, and he had every
reason to fear that the vessel was about to be dashed
against that iron-bound coast. Hastening down to the
beach with lights and ropes, he and his servants
looked in vain for the distressed vessel. Its fate was
already accomplished, as the floating spars but too
plainly shewed; but they looked in vain for any, dead
or alive, who might have come from the wreck. At
length they found a sort of crib which had been rudely
cast ashore, containing, strange to say, a still live
infant. The little creature, whose singular fate it
had been to survive where so many stronger people
perished, was carefully taken to the house and nursed.
It proved to be a female child, evidently from its
wrappings the offspring of persons of no mean
condition, but with nothing about it to afford a trace
as to who these were.
Mr. Gordon made some attempts
to find the relatives of this foundling, but without
effect. Hoping that she in time might be claimed, he
caused her to be brought up along with his own
daughters, and treated in all respects as one of them.
The personal graces and amiable character of the child
in time made him feel towards her as if she had
actually stood in that relation to him. When she had
attained to womanhood, a storm similar to that already
spoken of occurred. An alarm-gun was fired, and Mr.
Gordon, as was his wont, hurried down to the beach,
but this time to receive a ship-wrecked party, whom he
immediately conducted to his house, and treated with
his characteristic kindness. Amongst them was one
gentleman-passenger, whom he took into his own parlour,
and entertained at supper. After a comfortable night
spent in the castle, this stranger was surprised at
breakfast by the entrance of a troop of blooming young
ladies, the daughters of his host, as he understood,
but one of whom attracted his attention in a special
manner. 'Is this young lady your daughter too?' he
inquired of Mr. Gordon. 'No,' replied his host; 'but
she is as dear to me as if she were.' And he then
related her story. The stranger listened with
increasing emotion, and at the close of the narration,
said he had reason to believe that the young lady was
his own niece. He then related the circumstances of a
sister's return from India, corresponding to the time
of the shipwreck, and explained how it might happen
that Mr. Gordon's inquiries for her relations had
failed. 'She is now,' said he, an orphan; but, if I
am not mistaken in my supposition, she is entitled to
a handsome provision which her father bequeathed to
her in the hope of her yet being found.'
Ere long, sufficient evidence
was afforded to make it certain that the gentleman had
really, by the strange accident of the shipwreck,
found his long missing niece. It became necessary, of
course, that she should pass under his care, and leave Ardoch�a bitter necessity
to her, as it inferred a
parting with so many friends dear to her. To mitigate
the anguish of this separation, it was arranged that
one of her so-called sisters, the Misses Gordon,
should accompany her. Their destination was Gottenburg,
where the uncle had long been settled as a merchant.
Here closes all that was romantic in the history of
the foundling, but there was to be a sequel of that
nature in favour of Mr. Gordon's children. Amongst the
Scotch merchants settled in the Swedish port, was Mr.
Thomas Erskine, a younger son of
a younger brother of
Sir William Erskine of Cambo, in Fife, an offshoot of
the family of the Earl of Kellie. To him was Miss Anne
Gordon of Ardoch married in 1771. A younger brother,
named Methven, who had pursued merchandise in Bengal,
ten years later, married a sister of Miss Gordon, as
has been stated. No one then dreamed that these
gentlemen would ever come near to the peerage of their
family; but in 1797 the baronet of Cambo became Earl
of Kellie, and two years later, the title lighted on
the shoulders of the husband of Anne Gordon. In short,
these two daughters of Mr. Gordon of Ardoch, became,
in succession, Countesses of Kellie in consequence of
the incident of the shipwrecked foundling, whom their
father's humanity had rescued from the waves, and for
whom an owner had so unexpectedly been found.
DRESS OF A LADY OF FASHION IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY
In
a dramatic pastoral, entitled Rhoden, and Iris, first
acted at Norwich in 1631, we find the following list
of the dress, ornaments, and toilet requisites of a
fashionable lady of the period.
Chains, coronets, pendants,
bracelets, and earrings;
Pins, girdles, spangles, embroideries, and rings;
Shadows, rebatoes, ribbands, ruffs, cuffs, falls,
Scarfs, feathers, fans, masks, muffs, laces, calls,
Thin tiffanies, cobweb lawn, and farthingales,
Sweet falls, veils, wimples, glasses, crisping-pins,
Pots of ointment, combs, with poking sticks, and
bodkins,
Coifs, gorgets, fringes, rolls, fillets, and
hair-laces,
Silks, damasks, velvets, tinsels, cloth of gold,
Of tissues, with colours of a hundredfold.
But in her tires so new-fangled is she,
That which doth with her humour now agree,
To-morrow she dislikes. Now doth she swear
That a loose body is the neatest wear;
But, ere an hour be gone, she will protest,
A strait gown graces her proportion best;
Now calls she for a boisterous farthingale,
Then to her haunch she'll have her garments fall;
Now doth she praise a sleeve that 's long and wide,
Yet by and by that fashion cloth deride;
Sometimes, she applauds a pavement-sweeping train,
And presently dispraiseth it again;
Now she commends a shallow band so small,
That it may seem scarce any band at all;
But soon to a new fancy she cloth reel,
And calls for one as big as a coach-wheel.
She'll wear a flowing coronet to-day,
The symbol of her beauty's sad decay;
To-morrow, she a waving plume will try,
The emblem of all female levity,
Now in her hat, now in her hair is drest;
Now, of all fashions, she thinks change the best,
Nor in her weeds alone, is she so nice,
But rich perfumes she buys at any price;
Storax and spikenard, she burns in her chamber,
And daubs herself with civet, musk, and amber.
* * * *
Waters she bath to make her
face to shine,
Confections, eke, to clarify her skin;
Lip-salve and cloths of a rich scarlet dye
She bath, which to her cheeks she doth apply;
Ointment, wherewith she sprinkles o'er her face,
And lustrifies her beauty's dying grace.
CHILD SUCKLED BY A
GOAT
Whether the old story of
Romulus and Remus is a myth or a record of genuine
fact, we shall never know: most probably the former;
but incidents of the same nature are sufficiently
vouched. The Swallow frigate was, in July 1812,
engaged in a severe action with a French frigate near
Majorca. One of the sailors, named Phelan, had his
wife on board. In such circumstances, the woman is
always expected to assist the surgeons in attending on
the sick and wounded. The two ships being engaged
yard-arm and yard-arm, the slaughter was great, and
the cockpit became crowded with poor fellows in need
of attention.
While engaged in her service
of kindness, the woman heard that her husband was
wounded on deck. She rushed up, and reached the spot
in time to catch poor Phelan in her arms. They kissed
and embraced; but next instant a cannon-ball took off
the unfortunate woman's head. The husband gave one
agonised look at his dead wife, and then expired. When
the rage of the battle was over, the two bodies were
sewed up in a hammock and consigned to the deep. The
hapless wife had, only three weeks before, given birth
to an infant. The child was thus left an orphan, with
no woman near it, and none but rough-handed, though
kind-hearted, tars to tend it. They all declared their
willingness to be fathers to the little one; but a
mother was still wanting. It happened, however, that
one of the officers had a female Maltese goat on
board. The child was put to the goat, and followed his
natural instinct by sucking. The animal became so
accustomed to this proceeding, that she would lie down
voluntarily to suckle the infant. Goat's milk is known
to be very nourishing; and little Tommy (as the
sailors called him) prospered with this substitute for
a natural parent.
