“Man is by nature a social animal. ‘He is more political,’ says Aristotle, ‘than any bee or ant.’ But the existence of society, from a family to a state, supposes a certain harmony of sentiment among its members; and nature has, accordingly, wisely implanted in us a tendency to assimilate in opinions and habits of thought to those with whom we live and act. There is thus, in every society great or small, a certain gravitation of opinions towards a common centre. As in our natural body, every part has a necessary sympathy with every other, and all together form, by their harmonious conspiration, a healthy whole; so, in the social body, there is always a strong predisposition, in each of its members, to act and think in unison with the rest. This universal sympathy, or fellow-feeling, of our social nature, is the principle of the different spirit dominant in different ages, countries, ranks, sexes, and periods of life. It is the cause why fashions, why political and religious enthusiasm, why moral example, either for good or evil, spread so rapidly and exert so powerful an influence. As men are naturally prone to imitate others, they consequently regard, as important or insignificant, as honourable or disgraceful, as true or false, as good or bad, what those around them consider in the same light. They love and hate what they see others desire and eschew. This is not to be regretted; it is natural, and consequently it is right. Indeed, were it otherwise, society could not subsist, for nothing can be more apparent than that mankind in general, destined as they are to occupations incompatible with intellectual cultivation, are wholly incapable of forming opinions for themselves on many of the most important objects of human consideration.
“If such, however, be the intentions of nature with respect to the unenlightened classes, it is manifest that a heavier obligation is thereby laid on those who enjoy the advantages of intellectual cultivation, to examine with diligence and impartiality the foundations of those opinions which have any connexion with the welfare of mankind. If the multitude must be led, it is of consequence that it be led by enlightened conductors. That the great multitude of mankind are by natural disposition only what others are, is a fact at all times so obtrusive that it could not escape observation from the moment a reflective eye was first turned upon man. ‘The whole conduct of Cambyses,’ says Herodotus, the father of history, ‘towards the Egyptian gods, sanctuaries, and priests, convinces me that this king was in the highest degree insane, for otherwise he would not have insulted the worship and holy things of the Egyptians. If any one should accord to all men the permission to make free choice of the best among all customs, undoubtedly each would choose his own. That this would certainly happen can be shown by many examples, and among others by the following. The King Darius once asked the Greeks who were resident in his court, at what price they could be induced to devour their dead parents. The Greeks answered, that to this no price could bribe them. Thereupon the king asked some Indians who were in the habit of eating their dead parents, what they would take not to eat but to burn them; and the Indians answered even as the Greeks had done.’ Herodotus concludes this narrative with the observation, that ‘Pindar had justly entitled Custom—the Queen of the World.’”
The guilds in our mediæval towns, in the opinion of Mr. T. Wright, F.S.A., were derived from the municipal system of the Romans. We know that such guilds existed in the Roman towns, and with much the same objects. All people have, at all times, placed great importance in the ceremonies attending the interment of the dead; and the process of burial among the Romans was one of great expense, which could be met by families which were wealthy, but it must have been very onerous, falling all at once, on men of very limited means; to avoid the inconvenience of which they clubbed together, in a spirit which exists to the same degree in modern times; so that the expense on each occasion, instead of falling upon one, was distributed among the members of the club. This was the great object of the Roman guilds, and the second seems to have been drinking and sociality. People clubbed together to be merry while alive, and to be buried when dead. While they still remained attached to their old customs in burial, they were now taught the duty of investing money in the foundation of obits, or perpetual prayers for the dead; but this being looked upon as a superstitious usage, was the cause of their dissolution after the Reformation. In the successive changes of society, they embraced from time to time other objects; but the two grand objects of the Roman, Saxon, or Mediæval guilds, seemed to have been alike the respectable burial of their deceased members, and the promoting of convivial intercourse—the leading features of a modern Benefit Society.
If stated very briefly, the chief difference may be said to be that the Cambridge man is more practical. Whether there is something in the method of training pursued, or whether the different degrees of importance assigned to the various branches of education may be the cause, or whether the pitting of man against man in examination may operate still more powerfully, the fact soon forces itself on the attention of all close observers. If two school-friends part, and meet again after spending a year at the respective universities, they are soon conscious that they no longer work exactly in the same way. The Cambridge student has learned to regard everything as a task which he must honestly and steadily get through. To do it, and not to think about it, is his aim. Still less does he occupy himself with thinking about doing it. He is too busy and methodical for the agreeable but delusive pleasure of secondary reflection. He has to master a subject, and all he cares is to master it, and to go through it, so that he may satisfy the practical test of being examined in it and answering creditably. When he leaves college and commences a profession, he works in the same way. A law student from Cambridge, for instance, has generally no very romantic views either of his profession or of himself. Here is a very complex, confused, various piece of learning which he has undertaken to acquire. To do the thing well, he must work hard, and must utterly disbelieve that any knowledge will come unless it is painfully obtained. He must cultivate a legal memory, note carefully up all that he thinks he ought to know, and prepare himself to be able to pass an imaginary examination at the shortest possible notice. The Oxford student, on the other hand, is more inclined to speculate about law, to dally with its details, and to despise its confusion. Cambridge men, so to speak, approach law in a humble attitude, and are consequently, perhaps, as a rule, better lawyers after the received English fashion. A boating man who has shaved through a pass at Cambridge, will probably read law precisely in the same way as a boating man who has shaved through a pass at Oxford. But if we compare the general body of men who have taken fair degrees or been accustomed to read, we shall find that there is a difference in the manner in which the one and the other set approach a subject like law, and that difference may fairly be described by saying that the Cambridge manner is the more practical.—Saturday Review.
Exemplifications of this poetic saw are very numerous in the highways and byeways of History, ancient and modern; all tending to show the springs which have set the world in motion, and how the most trivial circumstances have occasioned the subversion of empires, and erected new ones in their stead. Infinite are the consequences which follow from a single, and often apparently a very insignificant, circumstance. Paley himself narrowly escaped being a baker; here was a decision upon which hung in one scale, perhaps, the immortal interests of thousands, and in the other, the gratification of the taste of the good people of Giggleswick for hot rolls. Cromwell was near being strangled in his cradle by a monkey; here was this wretched ape wielding in his paws the destiny of nations. Then, again, how different in their kind, as well as in their magnitude, are these consequences from anything that might have been, à priori, expected. Henry VIII. is smitten with the beauty of a girl of eighteen, and ere long—
“The Reformation beams from Bullen’s eyes.”
The Mission of St. Augustine is one of the most striking instances in all history of the vast results which may flow from a very small beginning,—of the immense effects produced by a single thought in the heart of a single man, carried out conscientiously, deliberately, and fearlessly. Nothing in itself could seem more trivial than the meeting of Gregory with the three Yorkshire boys in the market-place at Rome; yet this roused a feeling in his mind which he never lost; and through all the obstacles which were thrown first in his own way, and then in that of Augustine, his highest desire concerning it was more than realised. From Canterbury, the first English Christian city—from Kent, the first English Christian kingdom—has by degrees arisen the whole constitution of Church and State in England, which now binds together the whole British empire. And from the Christianity here established has flowed, by direct consequences, first, the Christianity of Germany—then, after a long interval, of North America—and, lastly, we may trust, in time, of all India and all Australasia.—Stanley’s Historical Memoirs of Canterbury.
Wars have frequently been brought about by trivial causes. In the cathedral of Modena, in the marble tower called “La Ghirlandina,” is kept the old worm-eaten wooden bucket which was the cause of the civil war, or rather affray, between the Modenese and Bolognese, in the time of Frederic II., Nov. 15, 1325. It was long suspended by the chain which fastened the gate of Bologna, through which the Modenese forced their passage, and seized the prize, which was deposited in the cathedral by the victors, the Geminiani, as a trophy of the defeat of the Petronii, with wonderful triumph. The event is the subject of Tassoni’s Secchia Rapita, or Rape of the Bucket, the first modern mock-heroic poem.
When the palace of the Trianon was building for Louis XIV., at the end of the park of Versailles, the monarch went to inspect the work, accompanied by Louvois, secretary-at-war, and superintendent of the building: Louis remarked that one of the windows was out of shape, and smaller than the rest, which Louvois denied. The king had the window measured, and finding that he had judged rightly, treated Louvois with contumely before the whole court. This treatment so incensed the minister, that when he returned home, he was heard to say, that he would find better employment for a monarch than that of insulting his favourites. Louvois was as good as his word, for by his insolence and haughtiness he insulted the other powers, and occasioned the bloody war of 1688.
An instance pregnant with mightier results could not, perhaps, be quoted than the following:—When many Puritans emigrated, or were about to emigrate, to America, in 1637, Cromwell, either despairing of his fortunes at home, or indignant at the rule of government which prevailed, resolved to quit his native country, in search of those civil and religious privileges of which he could freely partake in the New World. Eight ships were lying in the Thames, ready to sail: in one of them, says Hume, (quoting Mather and other authorities,) were embarked Hazelrig, Hampden, Pym, and Cromwell. A proclamation was issued, and the vessels were detained by Order in Council. The King had, indeed, cause to rue the exercise of his authority. In the same year, Hampden’s memorable trial—the great cause of Ship-money—occurred. What events rapidly followed!
At the beginning of the reign of Elizabeth, when the Protestant religion was restored, the question whether there should be Saints’ Days in the Calendar was considered by the Convocation, and sharply and fully debated. The Saints’ Days were carried only by a single vote: 59 members voted for Saints’ Days, 58 for omitting them.—Literary Remains of H. Fynes Clinton.
Bishop Burnet relates that the Habeas Corpus Act passed by a mere mistake; that one peer was counted for ten, and that made a majority for the measure.—Earl Stanhope’s Speech, 1856.
The House of Brunswick and the Casting Vote.—Sir Arthur Owen, bart., of Orielton, in the county of Pembroke, is the individual who is asserted to have given the casting vote which placed the Brunswick dynasty on the throne of England. A lady, in 1856, residing at Haverfordwest, remembered her grandmother, who was staying at Orielton, at the time when Sir Arthur Owen rode to London on horseback, for the purpose of recording his vote: he arrived at the precise juncture when his single vote caused the scale to preponderate in favour of the descendants of the Electress Sophia. (I. Pavin Phillips, Haverfordwest.—Notes and Queries, 2nd S. No. 31.) Another account, which Mr. Phillips thinks the correct one, states that Sir Arthur Owen made the number even; and that it was Mr. Griffith Rice, M.P. for Carmarthenshire, who gave the casting vote. (See Debrett’s Baronetage, 1824.)
The Discovery of America is referred to by Humboldt as a “wonderful concatenation of trivial circumstances which undeniably exercised an influence on the course of the world’s destiny:”
Washington Irving has justly observed that if Columbus had resisted the counsel of Martin Alonzo Pinzon, and continued to steer westward, he would have entered the Gulf Stream and been borne to Florida, and from thence, probably, to Cape Hatteras and Virginia,—a circumstance of incalculable importance, since it might have been the means of giving to the United States of North America a Catholic Spanish population, in the place of the Protestant English one by which those regions were subsequently colonised. “It seems to me like an inspiration,” said Pinzon to the Admiral, “that my heart dictates to me that we ought to steer in a different direction.” It was on the strength of this circumstance that in the celebrated lawsuit which Pinzon carried on against the heirs of Columbus, between 1513 and 1515, he maintained that the discovery of America was alone due to him. This inspiration Pinzon owed, as related by an old sailor of Moguez, at the same trial, to the flight of a flock of parrots which he had observed in the evening flying towards the south-west, in order, as he might well have conjectured, to roost on trees on the land. Never has a flight of birds been attended by more important results. It may even be said that it has decided the first colonization in the New Continent, and the original of the Roman and Germanic races of men.
The Act to recharter the first Bank of the United States was defeated by the casting vote of Vice-president Clinton (ex-officio President of the Senate), and the Tariff Act of 1846 was ordered to be engrossed by the casting vote of Vice-president Dallas.
That the Past is the Guide for the Present is thus argued:—Every political treatise referring to events which have engrossed the attention of the day, either as modifications or as changes of our social system, must be valuable in later years. It must necessarily recommend or condemn measures on account of their probable operation in the time to come; it must in some degree be a prophecy, or else it is practically worthless. The politician studies the past merely as his guide for the future. If he is learned, wise, and at all an adept in the science which he professes—than which no other is of so momentous an import—he will consider past history as the barometer which must guide him in predicating the approach either of a tempest or a calm. Temporary clamour or occasional obstruction will not lead him to forsake clear principles of action, or to recommend a grand constitutional remedy in the case of a trifling local disease. He must look forward beyond the sphere of immediate action—resolute in this belief, that one false step, however small, may upset the equilibrium of the State.—Blackwood’s Magazine, 1850.
We see two little spots huddled up in a corner, awkwardly shot off to a side, as it were, yet facing the great sea, on the very verge of the great waste of waters, with nothing to protect them: not like Greece, or Italy, or Egypt, in a Mediterranean bounded by a surrounding shore, to be coasted by timid mariners, but on the very edge and verge of the great ocean, looking out westward to the expanse. If she launch at all, she must launch with the fearless heart that is ready to brave old ocean,—to take him with his gigantic western waves—to face his winds and hurricanes—his summer heats of the dead-still tropics—his winter blasts—his fairy icebergs—his fogs like palpable darkness—his hail-blasts and his snow. Britain has done so. From her island-home, she has sailed east and west, north and south. She has gone outwardly, and planted empires. The States themselves, now her compeer, were an offshoot from her island territory. Her destiny is to plant out nations, and the spirit of colonization is the genius that presides over her career. She plants out Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and the Cape. Ceylon and the Mauritius she occupies for trade. India she covers with a network of law, framed and woven in her Anglo-Saxon loom. She clutches China, and begins at last to break up the celestial solecism. She lays hold of Borneo, and straightway piratical prahus are seen wrecked and stranded on the shore, or blown to fragments in the air. She raises an impregnable fortress at the entrance of the Mediterranean, and another in its centre, as security to her sea-borne trade. She does the same in embryo at the entrance to the Red Sea. Westward from Newfoundland, she traverses a continent, and there, in the Pacific, Vancouver’s Island, which may one day become the New Great Britain of new Anglo-Saxon enterprise, destined to carry civilization to the innumerable islands of the great sea—bears the union-jack for its island banner, and acknowledges the sovereignty of the British Crown. At Singapore, she has provisionally made herself mistress of the Straits of Malacca; and thousands of miles away on the other hand, at the Falkland Islands, near to the Land of Fire, the British mariner may hear the voice of praise issuing in the Anglo-Saxon tongue. In addition to this, she has representatives at every court, and consuls at every sea-port. Her cruisers bear her flag on every navigable sea. Europeans, Asiatics, Africans, Americans, and Australians, are found wearing her uniform, eating her bread, bearing her arms, and contributing to extend her dominion.—North British Review.
It is interesting, beyond a merely antiquarian point of view, to trace the progress of London from a walled town, covering about 700 acres, with a population half mercantile, half military, living in a labyrinth of courts and alleys, the majority being, as appears from an old proclamation, “heaped up together, and in a sort, half smothered.” Let us compare this with the majestic city of our day, spreading over more than 120 square miles, and containing 2600 miles of streets, flanked by 360,000 inhabited houses, with a population of 3,000,000, and an assessed rental of 13,000,000l.
Modern London embraces important portions of the four adjacent counties, and has swallowed up not only the old district, which is still designated “the City,” and its ancient suburbs, but numberless places formerly existing as distinct towns, villages, and hamlets, which in days gone by had their separate systems of local government. Under the present regulations, the Central Criminal Court district extends over an area of more than 700 square miles, including all Middlesex, and parts of Surrey, Kent, Essex, and Hertfordshire; which is also about the area of the Metropolitan Police District.—Alexander Pulling; Law Magazine, N.S., No. xxviii.
There is one instance, and only one, of a great European people possessing a very cheap national food. In Ireland the labouring classes have for more than two hundred years been principally fed by potatoes, which were introduced into their country late in the sixteenth or early in the seventeenth century. Now, the peculiarity of the potato is, that until the appearance of the late disease, it was, and perhaps still is, cheaper than any other food equally wholesome. If we compare its reproductive power with the amount of nutriment contained in it, we find that one acre of average land sown with potatoes will support twice as many persons as the same quantity of land sown with wheat. The consequence is, that in a country where men live on potatoes, the population will, if other things are tolerably equal, increase twice as fast as in a country where they live on wheat. And so it has actually occurred: until a few years ago, the population in Ireland, in round numbers, increased annually three per cent.; the population of England during the same period increasing one and a half per cent.—Buckle’s History of Civilization.
There were in Ireland at the time of the Census of 1861, 1,105,536 persons who spoke Irish. 163,275 of them spoke Irish only; the other 942,261 spoke both Irish and English. Of those who spoke Irish only, 3,075 were in the civic districts and 160,200 in the rural districts. That the number is declining is obvious from the circumstance that the proportion under 20 years of age was less than a third. 77,818 were in Connaught (in a population of less than a million), 62,039 in Munster, 23,180 in Ulster, only 238 in all Leinster.
The Colonies of Great Britain comprise altogether 3,350,000 square miles, and cost us for management 3,350,000l. per annum, or just about a pound a mile. They have an aggregate revenue of 11,000,000l., and owe among them 27,000,000l., or just two years and a half’s income. They import goods to the amount of 60,000,000l. yearly—half from ourselves, and half from all the rest of the world. They export produce to the value of 50,000,000l., of which three-fifths come to this kingdom; and all this is done by a population which is under 10,000,000 in the aggregate, and of which only 5,000,000 are whites. Add to these figures, says the Spectator, 900,000 square miles for India, and 200,000,000 of people with a trade of 71,000,000l., and we have a result that the Queen reigns ever nearly one-third of the land of the earth, and nearly a fourth of its population. If a British vizier under the Emperor should, as it seems probable, rule China, Englishmen will directly control more than half the human race!
Our Colonies may be grouped or classed as North American, Australian, Mediterranean, Atlantic, West Indian, Eastern, and African. In extent of territory no Colonies approach those of Australia. The palm of debt belongs to Canada, that of cost to the Mediterranean settlements, that of commerce to the Australian Colonies again. This great show of trade is owing to the precious character of their produce. Of the gross exports of 50,000,000l. they claim 22,000,000l., and cost little or nothing for garrisons all the while. In 1860, 250,000l. paid the entire military expenditure on this group of our dependencies; but New Zealand, which only stood at 100,000l. then, is probably not managed for that figure now. We can see but little trace of its gold-fields in the return before us, which throws all the weight upon New South Wales and Victoria. The former of these settlements exported in 1860 produce to the value of 5,000,000l.; the latter (and here come the gold-ships) no less than 13,000,000l. worth of goods. Three-fourths of this, too, came to England, whereas in the export-trade of New South Wales three-fourths went to foreign countries. Victoria also imported very largely from us, as did the other Colonies of the group, standing, in the whole, for more than half the sum total of this column.
Taking population and area into consideration, the trade done by the West Indies is not a bad one. There are but 54,000 white people in all these islands, yet they export goods to the value of 6,000,000l., and import about the same. Most of the settlements are somewhat in debt—Jamaica above the others; but even Jamaica does not owe three years’ income, whereas Canada owes eight. The total revenue of the West Indian Colonies in 1860 was not quite a million; the total debt was not quite a million and a half. But the most curious specimen in the return is Heligoland. The area of this British Colony is one-third of a square mile. On that territory a population of 2,172 souls maintains itself, and buys 13,000l. worth of foreign produce every year. Heligoland has also a revenue; but Heligoland has a public debt likewise, and is behind the world to the extent of nearly 5,000l.
The contrast of the statistics of India with these Colonial totals will develope some remarkable facts. The mere area of India, large as it is, scarcely exceeds one-fourth of the gross area of the Colonies, but it is infinitely more populous and wealthy. Its 900,000 square miles contain fifteen times as many inhabitants as all the rest of the Colonies together; its annual revenue is four times as great; its public debt four times as heavy. But its commerce is wonderful. The exports of all the Colonies, even including the produce of the gold-fields, amount to 50,000,000l. only, and to no more than 27,000,000l. apart from the exports of Australia. India, however, exported in 1860 goods to the value of 34,000,000l., of which 15,000,000l. worth came to us; and purchased in return 22,000,000l. worth from us, and 12,000,000l. worth from other countries. Add to this, that its cost is nothing. Under every item of charge, military as well as civil, the return in the case of India is nil. Where the rest of the Colonies figure for upwards of 3,000,000l. in the way of cost, India makes no demand whatever. That great Empire could supply us with almost everything we want. It could send us tea and silk when China fails; and if there can be any adequate substitute for the American cotton-fields, it is in India that we must seek it. It supplies us, too, with the invaluable advantage of a sphere of action and an honourable career for our adventurous youth, and all this it does without costing us a farthing, and without costing its own people more than they receive in value.—Parliamentary Return, 1863.
Mr. Craufurd, the ethnologist, has, in these few sentences, described the people of England: “They are,” he tells us, “among the most mixed people in the world: but the admixtures always having been of high order, no deterioration has resulted. Teutonic invasions appear to have been early made on the coasts of Britain, and the people who offered so brave a resistance to Cæsar were probably German settlers. The Romans, for four centuries, occupied all the best parts of the land, leaving the remains of the primitive peoples in the sterile and mountainous districts, which it would have been difficult to subdue, and unprofitable to keep in subjugation. The Romans, accompanied by few women, necessarily intermarried with the British. After them came the Teutonic Jutes, Saxons, Angles, Frisians, Danes, and Norwegians—the latter came over by mere boatloads; but in the course of several generations they attained, by their superior valour—for in number they never approached that of the original inhabitants—to the position of invaders, and spread their own language and institutions over the land. The Normans came next, but they were too few in number to overthrow the Saxon element; and all they have accomplished has been to add considerably to the Saxon vocabulary. We are not then, as a race, exclusively Britons, or exclusively Saxon, but a great deal more of the former than the latter.”
The only individuals who affect to sneer at heraldic pursuits and studies are those of apocryphal gentility, or whose ancestral reminiscences are associated with the rope sinister, or some such distinctive badge. Heraldry is, however, a branch of the hieroglyphical language, and the only branch which has been handed down to us with a recognised key. It in many cases represents the very names of persons, their birth, family, and alliances; in others it illustrates their ranks and titles; and in all is, or rather was, a faithful record of their illustrious deeds, represented by signs imitative and conventional. Taking this view of the question, it is evident that it is capable of vast improvements: in fact, a well-emblazoned shield might be made practically to represent, at a single glance, a synopsis of biography, chronology, and history. Insignia of individuals and races, which are of a kindred character with heraldry, at least in its original form and design, may be recognised among the nations of antiquity, and may perhaps be carried back to the primeval ages of Egyptian history. The Israelites, from their long captivity familiarized with such objects, naturally adopted them as distinguishing characteristics; and Sir W. Drummond believed that the twelve tribes adopted the signs of the zodiac as their respective ensigns; “nor,” as has been observed, “does the supposed allusion to those signs by Jacob imply anything impious, magical, or offensive to the Deity.”
The heraldry (?) of the heroic ages may be traced in the pages of Homer and Æschylus; and in the succeeding generations we have testimony of the adoption of a sort of armorial bearings by the princes of Greece. Omitting Nicias, Lamachus, Alcibiades, and others on record, we will merely observe that the arms of Niochorus, who slew Lysander, were a dragon, thus realizing the prediction of the oracle,
Nor were mottos by any means unfrequent. The shield which Demosthenes so pusillanimously threw away was inscribed “To good Fortune.”
The animals which are frequently represented within shields on the Roman vases sufficiently establish the fact, that this usage was common amongst that great people; and the striking example of a goat, on a specimen in the British Museum, might, by analogy, without any great stretch of imagination, be ascribed to the family of Caprus!
Students of heraldry are commonly great enthusiasts; so that, in its pursuit, they are apt to depreciate more important subjects. We remember to have heard an amateur herald, who had filled all his windows with arms of his own painting, condemn Mr. Salt’s collection of Egyptian Antiquities in terms of unmistakeable contempt!
The corporation of the College of Arms consists of 13 officers—namely, three Kings of Arms (Garter, Clarenceux, and Norroy), and, we believe, six heralds and four pursuivants. According to a Parliamentary Return, the most onerous of their duties is the preservation and safe custody of the vast mass of records and evidences which relate to the genealogical history, pedigrees, and arms of the nobility and gentry of England, from the earliest period to the present time. These officers have no Government grant, but they are household servants of the Crown, under the Earl Marshal; and their duty as such consists in the ordering and conducting all public funerals, such State ceremonials as coronations, and other ceremonials where the person of the Sovereign is more immediately concerned. For these services they receive salaries, the aggregate amount of which to the 13 officers is 252l. 18s. per annum. In their capacity of household servants they also receive certain fees on the creation of dignities and upon the installation of Knights of the Garter, paid by the persons on whom such honours are conferred. A herald and a pursuivant answer all public inquiries, make such searches as may be required, and give official extracts from records; the fees received for such searches and extracts amounted to 94l. in 1861. From all these sources, therefore, they received 600l. in that year. The officers of arms are the agents through whom applications are made to the Earl Marshal (acting in this behalf on the part of the Crown) for the registration of armorial bearings, or the solicitation of the Royal licence for a change of name, or change of name and arms. For the one case it becomes the duty of the officers of arms to see that no memorial be presented to the Earl Marshal by any individual not occupying a fit station in life for such distinction; and in the other that no petition be, through them, presented to the Crown, the allegations of which have not been, before such presentation, fully established, inasmuch as the Crown accepts and endorses such allegations, and directs the Earl Marshal to make them matter of record. The number of these patents and grants of arms or change of name or arms has been 869 in the period from 1850 to 1862 inclusive. The fees taken upon them are:—For grants on voluntary applications, 66l. 10s. and 10l. stamp duty; under Royal licences, 66l. 10s. and 48l. 17s. 6d. for exemplifications, 3l. 10s. of which goes to the Home-office; for grants of supporters, 55l.; for grants to wives or spinsters, 53l. and 10l. stamp duty; for grants of quarterings, 42l. 10s. and 10l. stamp duty; for grants of crests, 42l. 10s. and 10l. stamp duty; and for change of name, 44l. 13s., whereof 10l. 2s. 6d. goes to the Home-office.
Mrs. Lankester describes the Wood-sorrel (Oxalis acetosella) as easily recognised by its three delicately-green leaflets with longish stalks, marked with a darkish crescent in the centre, veined, and its lovely white flowers which at first sight resemble the wood-anemone. There are few walks or shady woods where, in the early spring, the bright half-folded green leaves of this pretty little plant may not be found. The tiny white flowers with their delicate purple veins are called, by the Welsh, “fairy bells,” and are believed to ring the merry peals which call the elves to “moonlight dancing and revelry.” Among the Druids its triple leaflets were regarded as a mysterious symbol of a Trinity, the full meaning of which was involved in darkness. So, too, St. Patrick chose this leaf as his symbol to illustrate the doctrine he sought to teach, and converted many by the apt use of an illustration derived from a plant already sacred in the eyes of his hearers. The original shamrock was undoubtedly the Oxalis, though the name became applied to all sorts of trefoiled plants.
It is, however, suspected that any three-leaved plant may be called the shamrock, the wood-sorrel no more undoubtedly than the Dutch clover, all leaves of this kind having been beheld with superstitious veneration, as possessing—
The holy trefoil’s charm.
Titles of honour are still borne by the representatives of some of the old Milesian families in Ireland. Some of these titles have become extinct in course of time, such as the M‘Carty More, the White Knight, the O’Sullivan Bear, the O’Moore, &c., and some have been merged in peerages. The O’Bryens in the titles of Thomond (now extinct) and Inchiquin, the O’Neills in an Earldom (extinct), the O’Callaghan in Lord Lismore, and the descendant and representative of the O’Byrnes in Lord de Tabley. But the following titles are still preserved and generally acknowledged:—
These are the O’Donoghue of the Glens, the O’Conor Don, the Knight of Kerry, the Knight of Glen, the O’Grady, the M‘Gillicuddy of the Reeks; and the M‘Dermot, Prince of Coolvain. The two first of these represent Irish constituencies, and it is believed are the only Irish chieftains who have adhered to the national religion; all the others are Protestants. Indeed, it is a curious circumstance that while we see the O’Neills, the O’Briens, the O’Callaghans, the O’Byrnes, indeed almost all the lineal descendants of the old Irish families, staunch Protestants (some of them even Orangemen; the late Lord O’Neill was Grand Master of the Orangemen); we find, on the other hand, that the leading Roman Catholic nobility and gentry in Ireland are mostly of English and Protestant extraction. Thus the Brownes, Earls of Kenmare, came over originally in the reign of Queen Elizabeth; and being Protestants obtained large grants of the O’Donoghue property in Kerry, forfeited by Roderick O’Donoghue, in the reign of Elizabeth, and by Geoffrey O’Donoghue, “dead in rebellion,” in the reign of her successor. The Earls of Kenmare are now, as is well known, at the head of the Irish Roman Catholic peerage, and so of the Dillons, Plunkets, Burkes, Nugents, Prestons, and other Irish Roman Catholic families of importance; they are all, with few exceptions, of English and Protestant descent, while we have seen that the descendants of the native Irish are almost all Protestants.
Many different species have been dignified with the name of Scotch Thistle. It is probable, say some authorities, that a common species, such as Carduus lanceolatus, is most deserving the name. Some have fixed on doubtful native species, such as Silybum Marianum and Onopordum Acanthium. Neither of these is, however, reconcilable with history. S. Marianum is appropriated by the Roman Catholic Church, who say the white marking on the foliage is commemorative of the milk of the Virgin Mary. O. Acanthium is not only, like the last, a doubtful original species to Scotland, but, like C. lanceolatus, of much too great a height; for one historian says that, after the landing of Queen Scota, she reviewed her troops; and, being fatigued, retired; and, on sitting down, was pricked by a thistle; from which circumstance she adopted it as the arms of her new country, with the motto, Nemo me impune laccssit. Another says, on the eve of an attack by the Danes, one of the enemy having trod on a thistle, cried out with pain, which gave intimation to the Scots of their near presence; and hence the thistle became dignified as the arms of the country. With these two exceptions, we meet with no other reference to a matter of equal importance, in an historical point of view, with that of the legends in connexion with the Coronation Stone, which all historians have treated on with great minuteness.
However, if any reliance may be placed on the authorities above given, it is quite clear that it must have been a low-growing species like Cnivus acaule; for, whether we take into consideration the accident to the Queen or the bare-footed Dane, or the configuration of the flower-head itself, it more closely resembles the representations we find on many of the sculptured stones than either of the others. Some have supposed it to be Carduus acanthoides; but this, as well as all the rest, is less formidably furnished with those strong spiny scales with which the receptacle of Silybum Marianum is so amply provided. This circumstance agrees with the sculptured representations found on the oldest parts of Stirling Castle, Linlithgow Palace, or Holyrood House, especially with one on the top of a garden doorway opposite the new fountain, in front of the entrance to the latter, which is more like the head of Cynara Scolymus, the globe artichoke, a native of the South of Europe, than any thistle in the world. Uncertain as the Scotch are regarding the species of their national emblem, or even of its being a native, they are no more so than the English are regarding the species of rose they have adopted. No double rose existed in Britain at the period it was introduced into the national escutcheon; therefore, it must have been borrowed from the French; who even, in their turn, cannot now tell what species of iris their fleur-de-lis is meant to represent. Nor are the Irish agreed as to whether their shamrock is derived from a series of Trifolium, or from Oxalis acetosella. The ancient Britons, as the Welsh call themselves, have adopted the leek, Allium porum, a native of Switzerland.—Scottish Farmer.
It is curious to find Lord Buckhurst and Recorder Fleetwood engaged in a conversation on the excellency of the regal dignity of a King, as they rode from London to Windsor in the reign of Elizabeth, (1575,) in the company of the Earl of Leicester, who travelled according to his own pompous notions, with divers knights and noble gentlemen, and a princely cavalcade of attendants. Mr. Recorder, riding between my Lord of Leicester and Lord Buckhurst, as they passed “alonge by Saint James’s walles,” began the debate; when the great lawyer laid down:[4]
“I doe read that this worde Kinge is a Saxon terme, and doe originallye comme and growe out of this ould Saxon word cyninȝ, which doth signefie a cuninge, a wyse, a virtuous, a polleticque, and a prudent person, fitt to governe as well in peace as in warres; and this word Queene, in the same tongue, is in effect of the same force, referringe the same to the female sex, and therefore it is to be noted that the crowne of England is not alwayes bound especiallye to be governed by the male; but yf there wante heyres males, then ought it to descend to the heyres females, as it appeareth by the judgmente given touchinge the dawghters of Zelophehad (xxvi. 33 Numbers), and as it did in the tyme of the Bryttons descend upon Queen Cordeila, who was queene of this realme before the Incarnation of Christ 805 years, even at that tyme that the good King Ozias did repayer the cittye of Jerusalem, which was in the yeare of the worlde 3358. This Cordeila was dawghter of Kinge Leire, who buylded the auntient cittye of Leicester; yea, and is it a most true and playne matter, that the crowne of England maye descend and come to the female dawghter, where there lacketh heyre male, as it did unto Mawde the Empresse, who was dawghter to Kinge Henrye the First, and by the meane that William, Mary, and Richard, the children of the same King Henry the First, were drowned in the seas by shipwracke, it soe fell out the said Mawde the Empresse became sole heyre, and notwithstandinge an ynterruption made by Kinge Stephen the intruder (for that is his proper addition in the antient chronicles), yett the judgmente fell out for her parte, and she and her posteritye, even to this daye, have justlye and most rightfullye enjoyed the crowne without any enterclayme of anye person that ever hath bine heard of.” To this Leicester replies: “I see that this is a greate and good proofe that the female hath had and enjoyed the crowne of England by just and lawfull tytle,” &c.—Archæologia, xxxvii.
It is a common error to suppose Charles V. to have been the originator of this sovereign title. Its earliest use is to denote the dignity of the Roman people. Thence the Emperors borrowed it as the representatives of the people, in accordance with the Lex Regia. They were called “Majestas Augusta,” and even “Regia Majestas.” In later times this title was applied to the Emperor Louis the Pious; and Charles the Bald assumes it in one of his charters. It is also found attributed to some of the Popes. Charles V. at most gave it fixity and continuance, instead of its being adopted and discontinued by turns. Francis I. of France, at the interview with Henry VIII. of England, on the Field of the Cloth of Gold, addressed the latter as “Your Majesty,” 1520. James I. coupled with this title the term, “Sacred,” and “Most Excellent Majesty.”
The royal “We” represents, or was supposed originally to represent, the source of the national power, glory, and intellect, in the august power of the Sovereign. “Le Roi le veut”—the King will have it so—sounded as arrogantly as it was meant to sound in the royal Norman mouth. It is a mere form, now that royalty in England has been relieved of responsibility. In haughtiness of expression it was matched by the old French formula at the end of a decree: “For such is our good pleasure.” The royal subscription in Spain is “Yo, el Re,” I, the King. The first “King’s speech” ever delivered was by Henry I., in 1107. Exactly a century later, King John first assumed the royal “We:” it had never before been employed in England. The same monarch was the first English King who claimed for England the sovereignty of the seas. “Grace,” and “my Liege” were the ordinary titles by which our Henry VI. was addressed. “Excellent Grace” was given to Henry VI., who was not the one, nor yet had the other. Edward IV. was “Most High and Mighty Prince.” Henry VII. was the first English Highness.
The earliest notice that has been found of the Sovereign’s present motto, “Dieu et mon Droit,” is in the 13th Henry VI., 1435, when a gown, embroidered with silver crowns, and with the motto “Dieu et mon Droit,” is mentioned in a roll at Carlton-ride.—Sir Harris Nicolas; Archæologia vol. xxxi.
Dr. Doran, F.S.A., has thus briefly told their history, profiting in his inquiry by the researches of Sir Harris Nicolas:—“Old Randall Holmes solved the difficulty in his summary way, by asserting that the ostrich feathers were the blazon on the war-banner of the ancient Britons. The only thing that in any way resembles the triple feathers in ancient British heraldry is to be found on the azure shield of arms of King Roderick Mawr, on which the tails of that monarch’s three lions are seen coming between their legs, and turning over their backs, with the gentle fall of the tips, like the graceful bend of the feathers in the Prince’s badge. The feathers themselves, however, do not appear in connexion with our Princes of Wales until after the battle in which the blind King of Bohemia lost his life. The crest of the Bohemian monarch was an eagle’s wing; as for the motto of Ich dien, it was assumed by the Prince to characterize his humility, in accordance with a fashion followed to a late period even by princesses—Elizabeth of York, for instance, took that of “Humble and Reverent.” Edward of Woodstock, therefore, did not adopt either the badge or the legend of the dead King of Bohemia; such is the conclusion at which nearly all persons who have examined into this difficult question have arrived. Nevertheless, John, Count of Luxemburg, was the original style and title of him who was elected King of Bohemia, and fell so bravely and unnecessarily at Cressy. Now, the ostrich feather was a distinction of Luxemburg; and it is from such origin that the Princes of Wales derive the graceful plumes, which are their distinguishing badge, but not their crest. This much is stated by Sir H. Nicolas, in the Archæologia (xxxi. 252); and Mr. D’Eyncourt (Gent. Mag. xxxvi. 621) suggests that the King of Bohemia’s crest looks more like ostrich feathers than a vulture’s wing. The question may be considered as having been set at rest by John de Ardern. He was a physician, contemporary with the Black Prince; and in a manuscript of his in the Sloane Collection (76 fo. 61), Ardern distinctly states that the Prince derived the feathers from the blind King. In the directions given in this will for the funeral procession, banners bearing the arms of France and England quarterly, and others with the ostrich-plume, are respectively described as those of war and peace. The ostrich symbolised Justice, its feathers being nearly all of equal length.”
The first time this name occurs in English history is as belonging to a “Mastres (Mistress) Victoria,” who was one of the attendants, “Gentylwomen,” upon Queen Katherine, when she accompanied her husband, Henry VIII., to the gorgeous meeting of the Field of the Cloth of Gold (June, 1520). Each gentylwoman was allowed “a woman, ij men servantes, and ijj horses.” And the Queen had 265 of all ranks, and they in turn had 999, making the total number 1260 persons. The King’s retinue amounted to 4544; Wolsey had above 400.
The crowns worn in former times by the kings of England have varied much in form and material. The Saxon kings had a crown consisting of a simple fillet of gold. Egbert improved its appearance by placing on the fillet a row of points or rays; and after him, Edmond Ironside tipped these points with pearl; William the Conqueror had on his coronet points and leaves placed alternately, each point being tipped with three pearls, while the whole crown was surmounted with a cross. William Rufus discontinued the leaves. Henry I. had a row of fleur-de-lis; from this time to Edward III. the crown was variously ornamented with points and fleur-de-lis, placed alternately; but this monarch enriched his crown with fleur-de-lis and crosses alternately, as at present. Edward IV. was the first who wore a close crown, with two arches of gold, embellished with pearls; and the same form, with trifling variations, has been continued to the present day. The English crown, called the “St. Edward’s crown,” was made in imitation of the ancient crown said to be worn by that monarch, kept in Westminster Abbey till the beginning of the Civil Wars in England, when, with the rest of the regalia, it was seized and sold in 1642. A new crown was prepared for the coronation of Charles II.: it is set with pearls and precious stones, as diamonds, rubies, emeralds, sapphires; it has a mound of gold on the top, enriched with a fillet of the same metal, covered also with precious stones; the cap is of purple velvet, lined with white silk, and turned up with ermine.
Professor Tennant, the well-known mineralogist, thus minutely describes the Imperial State Crown of Her Majesty Queen Victoria, which was made by Messrs. Rundell and Bridge in the year 1838, with jewels taken from old Crowns, and others furnished by command of her Majesty: