Chapter III: Introduction (2)

Astonishing Anthology from Attractive Authors.
Broken Bits from Bulky Brains.
Choice Chunks from Chaucer to Channing.
Dainty Devices from Diverse Directions.
Echoes of Eloquence from Eminent Essayists.
Fragrant Flowers from Fields of Fancy.
Gems of Genius Gloriously Garnished.
Handy Helps from Head and Heart.
Illustrious Intellects Intelligently Interpreted.
Jewels of Judgment and Jets of Jocularity.
Kindlings to Keep from the King to the Kitchen.
Loosened Leaves from Literary Laurels.
Magnificent Morsels from Mighty Minds.
Numerous Nuggets from Notable Noodles.
Oracular Opinions Officiously Offered.
Prodigious Points from Powerful Pens.
Quirks and Quibbles from Queer Quarters.
Rare Remarks Ridiculously Repeated.
Suggestive Squibs from Sundry Sources.
Tremendous Thoughts on Thundering Topics.
Utterances from Uppermost for Use and Unction.
Valuable Views in Various Voices.
Wisps of Wit in a Wilderness of Words.
Xcellent Xtracts Xactly Xpressed.
Yawnings and Yearnings for Youthful Yankees.
Zeal and Zest from Zoroaster to Zimmerman.

COMPLIMENTARY CONSIDERATIONS CONCERNING CHESS.

Cherished chess! The charms of thy checkered chambers chain me
changelessly. Chaplains have chanted thy charming choiceness;
chieftains have changed the chariot and the chase for the chaster
chivalry of the chess-board, and the cheerier charge of the
chess-knights. Chaste-eyed Caissa! For thee are the chaplets of
chainless charity and the chalice of childlike cheerfulness. No
chilling churl, no cheating chafferer, no chattering changeling, no
chanting charlatan can be thy champion; the chivalrous, the
charitable, and the cheerful are the chosen ones thou cherishest.
Chance cannot change thee: from the cradle of childhood to the
charnel-house, from our first childish chirpings to the chills of the
churchyard, thou art our cheery, changeless chieftainess. Chastener of
the churlish, chider of the changeable, cherisher of the chagrined,
the chapter of thy chiliad of charms should be chanted in cherubic
chimes by choicest choristers, and chiselled on chalcedon in cherubic
chirography.

Hood, in describing the sensations of a dramatist awaiting his debut, thus uses the letter F in his Ode to Perry:—

All Fume and Fret,
Fuss, Fidget, Fancy, Fever, Funking, Fright,
Ferment, Fault-fearing, Faintness—more F’s yet:
Flushed, Frigid, Flurried, Flinching, Fitful, Flat,
Add Famished, Fuddled, and Fatigued to that;
Funeral, Fate-Foreboding.

The repetition of the same letter in the following is very ingenious:—

FELICITOUS FLIGHT OF FANCY.

“A famous fish-factor found himself father of five flirting
females—Fanny, Florence, Fernanda, Francesca, and Fenella. The first
four were flat-featured, ill-favored, forbidding-faced, freckled
frumps, fretful, flippant, foolish, and flaunting. Fenella was a
fine-featured, fresh, fleet-footed fairy, frank, free, and full of
fun. The fisher failed, and was forced by fickle fortune to forego his
footman, forfeit his forefathers’ fine fields, and find a forlorn
farm-house in a forsaken forest. The four fretful females, fond of
figuring at feasts in feathers and fashionable finery, fumed at their
fugitive father. Forsaken by fulsome, flattering fortune-hunters, who
followed them when first they flourished, Fenella fondled her father,
flavored their food, forgot her flattering followers, and frolicked in
a frieze without flounces. The father, finding himself forced to
forage in foreign parts for a fortune, found he could afford a faring
to his five fondlings. The first four were fain to foster their
frivolity with fine frills and fans, fit to finish their father’s
finances; Fenella, fearful of flooring him, formed a fancy for a full
fresh flower. Fate favored the fish-factor for a few days, when he
fell in with a fog; his faithful Filley’s footsteps faltered, and food
failed. He found himself in front of a fortified fortress. Finding it
forsaken, and feeling himself feeble, and forlorn with fasting, he fed
on the fish, flesh, and fowl he found, fricasseed, and when full fell
flat on the floor. Fresh in the forenoon, he forthwith flew to the
fruitful fields, and not forgetting Fenella, he filched a fair flower;
when a foul, frightful, fiendish figure flashed forth: ‘Felonious
fellow, fingering my flowers, I’ll finish you! Fly; say farewell to
your fine felicitous family, and face me in a fortnight!’ The
faint-hearted fisher fumed and faltered, and fast and far was his
flight. His five daughters flew to fall at his feet and fervently
felicitate him. Frantically and fluently he unfolded his fate.
Fenella, forthwith fortified by filial fondness, followed her father’s
footsteps, and flung her faultless form at the foot of the frightful
figure, who forgave the father, and fell flat on his face, for he had
fervently fallen in a fiery fit of love for the fair Fenella. He
feasted her till, fascinated by his faithfulness, she forgot the
ferocity of his face, form, and features, and frankly and fondly fixed
Friday, fifth of February, for the affair to come off. There was
festivity, fragrance, finery, fireworks, fricasseed frogs, fritters,
fish, flesh, fowl, and frumentry, frontignac, flip, and fare fit for
the fastidious; fruit, fuss, flambeaux, four fat fiddlers and fifers;
and the frightful form of the fortunate and frumpish fiend fell from
him, and he fell at Fenella’s feet a fair-favored, fine, frank,
freeman of the forest. Behold the fruits of filial affection.”

A BEVY OF BELLES.

The following lines are said to have been admirably descriptive of the five daughters of an English gentleman, formerly of Liverpool;—

Minerva-like majestic Mary moves.
Law, Latin, Liberty, learned Lucy loves.
Eliza’s elegance each eye espies.
Serenely silent Susan’s smiles surprise.
From fops, fools, flattery, fairest Fanny flies.

MOTIVES TO GRATITUDE.

A remarkable example of the old fondness for antithesis and alliteration in composition, is presented in the following extract from one of Watts’ sermons:—

The last great help to thankfulness is to compare various
circumstances and things together. Compare, then, your sorrows with
your sins; compare your mercies with your merits; compare your
comforts with your calamities; compare your own troubles with the
troubles of others; compare your sufferings with the sufferings of
Christ Jesus, your Lord; compare the pain of your afflictions with the
profit of them; compare your chastisements on earth with condemnation
in hell; compare the present hardships you bear with the happiness you
expect hereafter, and try whether all these will not awaken
thankfulness.

ACROSTICS.

The acrostic, though an old and favorite form of verse, in our own language has been almost wholly an exercise of ingenuity, and has been considered fit only for trivial subjects, to be classed among _nugæ literariæ_. The word in its derivation includes various artificial arrangements of lines, and many fantastic conceits have been indulged in. Generally the acrostic has been formed of the first letters of each line; sometimes of the last; sometimes of both; sometimes it is to be read downward, sometimes upward. An ingenious variety called the Telestich, is that in which the letters beginning the lines spell a word, while the letters ending the lines, when taken together, form a word of an opposite meaning, as in this instance:—

U nite and untie are the same—so say yo U.
N ot in wedlock, I ween, has this unity bee N.
I n the drama of marriage each wandering _gou T_
T o a new face would fly—all except you and I—
E ach seeking to alter the _spell_ in their scen E.

In these lines, on the death of Lord Hatherton, (1863), the initial and final letters are doubled:—

H ard was his final fight with ghastly Deat _h_,
H e bravely yielded his expiring breat _h_.
A s in the Senate fighting freedom’s ple _a_,
A nd boundless in his wisdom as the se _a_.
T he public welfare seeking to direc _t_,
T he weak and undefended to protec _t_.
H is steady course in noble life from birt _h_,
H as shown his public and his private wort _h_.
E vincing mind both lofty and sedat _e_,
E ndowments great and fitted for the Stat _e_,
R eceiving high and low with open doo _r_,
R ich in his bounty to the rude and poo _r_.
T he crown reposed in him the highest trus _t_,
T o show the world that he was wise and jus _t_.
O n his ancestral banners long ag _o_,
O urs willingly relied, and will do s _o_.
N or yet extinct is noble Hatherto _n_,
N ow still he lives in gracious Littleto _n_.

Although the fanciful and trifling tricks of poetasters have been carried to excess, and acrostics have come in for their share of satire, the origin of such artificial poetry was of a higher dignity. When written documents, were yet rare, every artifice was employed to enforce on the attention or fix on the memory the verses sung by bards or teachers. Alphabetic associations formed obvious and convenient aids for this purpose. In the Hebrew Psalms of David, and in other parts of Scripture, striking specimens occur. The peculiarity is not retained in the translations, but is indicated in the common version of the 119th Psalm by the initial letters prefixed to its divisions. The Greek Anthology also presents examples of acrostics, and they were often used in the old Latin language. Cicero, in his treatise “De Divinatione,” has this remarkable passage:—“The verses of the Sybils (said he) are distinguished by that arrangement which the Greeks call Acrostic; where, from the first letters of each verse in order, words are formed which express some particular meaning; as is the case with some of Ennius’s verses, the initial letters of which make ‘which Ennius wrote!’”

Among the modern examples of acrostic writing, the most remarkable may be found in the works of Boccaccio. It is a poem of fifty cantos, of which Guinguenè has preserved a specimen in his Literary History of Italy.

A successful attempt has recently been made to use this form of verse for conveying useful information and expressing agreeable reflections, in a volume containing a series of acrostics on eminent names, commencing with Homer, and descending chronologically to our own time. The alphabetic necessity of the choice of words and epithets has not hindered the writer from giving distinct and generally correct character to the biographical subjects, as may be seen in the following selections, which are as remarkable for the truth and discrimination of the descriptions as for the ingenuity of the diction:

GEORGE HERBERT.

G ood Country Parson, cheerful, quaint,
E ver in thy life a saint,
O ’er thy memory sweetly rise
R are old Izaak’s eulogies,
G iving us, in life-drawn hue,
E ach loved feature to our view.

H oly Herbert, humble, mild,
E ’en as simple as a child,
R eady thy bounty to dispense,
B eaming with benevolence,
E ver blessing, ever blest,
R escuing the most distrest;
T hy “Temple” now is Heaven’s bright rest.

DRYDEN.

D eep rolls on deep in thy majestic line.
R ich music and the stateliest march combine;
Y et, who that hears its high harmonious strain
D eems not thy genius thou didst half profane?
E xhausting thy great power of song on themes
N ot worthy of its strong, effulgent beams.

REYNOLDS.

R are Painter! whose unequall’d skill could trace
E ach light and shadow of the changeful face;
Y oung “Samuel’s,” now, beaming with piety,
N ow the proud “Banished Lord’s” dark misery,
O r “Ugolino’s” ghastly visage, wild,
L ooking stern horror on each starving child;
D elights not less of social sort were thine,
S uch as with Burke, or e’en with Johnson shine.

BURKE.

B rilliant thy genius ’mongst a brilliant throng;
U nique thy eloquence of pen and tongue;
R ome’s Tully loftier flights could scarce command,
K indling thy soul to thoughts that matchless stand
E ver sublime and beautiful and grand.

HUBER.

H ow keen thy vision, e’en though reft of sight!
U sing with double power the mind’s clear light:
B ees, and their hives, thy curious ken has scanned.
E ach cell, with geometric wisdom planned,
R ich stores of honeyed knowledge thus at thy command.

CRABBE.

C opyist of Nature—simply, sternly true,—
R eal the scenes that in thy page we view.
“A mid the huts where poor men lie” unknown,
B right humor or deep pathos thou hast thrown.
B ard of the “Borough” and the “Village,” see—
E ’en haughty Byron owns he’s charm’d by thee.

WALTER SCOTT.

W ondrous Wizard of the North,
A rmed with spells of potent worth!
L ike to that greatest Bard of ours
T he mighty magic of thy powers:
E ’en thy bright fancy’s offspring find
R esemblance to his myriad mind.

S uch the creations that we see—
C haracter, manners, life in thee—
O f Scotia’s deeds, a proud display,
T he glories of a bygone day;
T hy genius foremost stands in all her long array.

WORDSWORTH.

W andering, through many a year, ’mongst Cumbria’s hills,
O ’er her wild fells, sweet vales, and sunny lakes,
R ich stores of thought thy musing mind distils,
D ay-dreams of poesy thy soul awakes:—
S uch was thy life—a poet’s life, I ween;
W orshipper thou of Nature! every scene
O f beauty stirred thy fancy’s deeper mood,
R eflection calmed the current of thy blood:
T hus in the wide “Excursion” of thy mind,
H igh thoughts in _words_ of _worth_ we still may find.

IRVING.

I n easy, natural, graceful charm of style,
R esembling Goldy’s “Vicar,”—free from guile:
V ein of rich humor through thy “Sketch-Book” flows.
I magination her bright colors shows.
N o equal hast thou ’mongst thy brother band,
G enial thy soul, worthy our own loved land.

MACREADY.

M aster Tragedian! worthy all our praise.
A ction and utterance such as bygone days
C ould oftener boast, were thine. Need we but name
R oman Virginius? while our Shakspeare’s fame
E ver ’twas thy chief joy and pride to uprear,
A nd give us back Macbeth, Othello, Lear.
D elight to thousands oft thou gav’st, and now
Y ears of calm lettered ease ’tis thine to know.

LONGFELLOW.

L ays like thine have many a charm;
O ft thy themes the heart must warm.
N ow o’er Slavery’s guilt and woes,
G rief and shame’s deep hues it throws;
F ar up Alpine heights is heard
“E xcelsior,” now the stirring word;
“L ife’s Psalm,” now, onward is inviting,
L ongings for nobler deeds exciting;
O ’er Britain now resounds thy name,
W hile States unborn shall swell thy fame.

SOUTHEY.

S erenely bright thy life’s pure stream did glide,
O n sweet romantic Derwentwater’s side.
U nder great Skiddaw—there, in Epic lays,
T hou dream’dst a poet’s dreams of olden days,
H ow Madoc wandered o’er the Atlantic wave,
E astern Kehama, Roderic the brave,
Y ears cannot from our fondest memory lave.

MACAULAY.

M asterly critic! in whose brilliant style
A nd rich historic coloring breathes again—
C lothed in most picturesque costume the while—
A ll the dim past, with all its bustling train.
U nder this vivid, eloquent painting, see
L ife given anew to our old history’s page;
A nd in thy stirring ballad poetry,
Y outh’s dreams of ancient Rome once more our minds engage.

OLIVER’S IMPROMPTU.

Oliver, a sailor and patriot, with a merited reputation for extempore rhyming, while on a visit to his cousin Benedict Arnold, after the war, was asked by the latter to amuse a party of English officers with some extemporaneous effusion, whereupon he stood up and repeated the following Ernulphus curse, which would have satisfied Dr. Slop[4] himself:—

B orn for a curse to virtue and mankind,
E arth’s broadest realm ne’er knew so black a mind.
N ight’s sable veil your crimes can never hide,
E ach one so great, ’twould glut historic tide.
D efunct, your cursed memory will live
I n all the glare that infamy can give.
C urses of ages will attend your name,
T raitors alone will glory in your shame.

A lmighty vengeance sternly waits to roll
R ivers of sulphur on your treacherous soul:
N ature looks shuddering back with conscious dread
O n such a tarnished blot as she has made.
L et hell receive you, riveted in chains,
D oomed to the hottest focus of its flames.

Footnote 4:

Tristram Shandy.

ALLITERATIVE ACROSTIC.

The following alliterative acrostic is a gem in its way. Miss Kitty Stephens was the celebrated London vocalist, and is now the Dowager Countess of Essex:—

S he sings so soft, so sweet, so soothing still
T hat to the tone ten thousand thoughts there thrill;
E lysian ecstasies enchant each ear—
P leasure’s pure pinions poise—prince, peasant, peer,
H ushing high hymns, Heaven hears her harmony,—
E arth’s envy ends; enthralled each ear, each eye;
N umbers need ninefold nerve, or nearly name,
S oul-stirring §Stephens’§ skill, sure seraphs sing the same.

CHRONOGRAMMATIC PASQUINADE.

On the election of Pope Leo X., in 1440, the following satirical acrostic appeared, to mark the date

M C C C C X L.

Multi Cœci Cardinales Creaverunt Cœcum Decimum (X) Leonem.

MONASTIC VERSE.

The merit of this fine specimen will be found in its being at the same time _acrostic_, _mesostic_, and _telestic_.

=I=nter cuncta micans =I=gniti sidera cœl=I=
=E=xpellit tenebras =E= toto Phœbus ut orb=E=;
=S=ic cæcas removet JE=S=US caliginis umbra=S=,
=V=ivificansque simul =V=ero præcordia mot=V=,
=S=olem justitiæ =S=ese probat esse beati=S=.

The following translation preserves the acrostic and mesostic, though not the telestic form of the original:—

In glory see the rising sun, Illustrious orb of day,
Enlightening heaven’s wide expanse, Expel night’s gloom away.
So light into the darkest soul, JESUS, Thou dost impart,
Uplifting Thy life-giving smiles Upon the deadened heart:
Sun Thou of Righteousness Divine, Sole King of Saints Thou art.

The figure of a §FISH§ carved on many of the monuments in the Roman Catacombs, is an emblematic acrostic, intended formerly to point out the burial-place of a Christian, without revealing the fact to the pagan persecutors. The Greek word for _fish_ is Ιχθῦς, which the Christians understood to mean _Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the Saviour_,—the letters forming the initials of the following Greek words:—

Ιησους— Jesus
Χριστος— Christ,
Θεου— of God,
Υιος— Son,
Σωτηρ— Saviour.

NAPOLEON FAMILY.

The names of the male crowned heads of the extinct Napoleon dynasty form a remarkable acrostic:—

N apoleon, Emperor of the French.
I oseph, King of Spain.
H ieronymus, King of Westphalia.
I oachim, King of Naples.
L ouis, King of Holland.

RACHEL.

Rachel, on one occasion, received a most remarkable present. It was a diadem, in antique style, adorned with six jewels. The stones were so set as to spell, in acrostic style, the name of the great _artiste_, and also to signify six of her principal _rôles_, thus:

R uby, R oxana,
A methyst, A menaide,
C ornelian, C amille,
H ematite, H ermione,
E merald, E milie,
L apis Lazuli, L aodice.

This mode of constructing a name or motto by the initial letters of gems was formerly fashionable on wedding rings.

MASONIC MEMENTO.

The following curious memento was written in the early part of last century:—

M—Magnitude, Moderation, Magnanimity.
A—Affability, Affection, Attention.
S—Silence, Secrecy, Security.
O—Obedience, Order, Œconomy.
N—Noble, Natural, Neighborly.
R—Rational, Reciprocative, Receptive.
Y—Yielding, Ypight (fixed), Yare (ready).

Which is explained thus:—

Masonry, of things, teaches how to attain their just Magnitude.
To inordinate affections the art of Moderation.
It inspires the soul with true Magnanimity.
It also teaches us Affability.
To love each other with true Affection.
And to pay to things sacred a just Attention.
It instructs us how to keep Silence,
To maintain Secrecy,
And preserve Security;
Also, to whom it is due, Obedience,
To observe good Order,
And a commendable Œconomy.
It likewise teaches us how to be worthily Noble,
Truly Natural,
And without reserve Neighborly.
It instils principles indisputably Rational,
And forms in us a disposition Reciprocative,
And Receptive.
It makes us, to things indifferent, Yielding,
To what is absolutely necessary, perfectly Ypight,
And to do all that is truly good, most willingly Yare.

HEMPE.

Bacon says, “The trivial prophecy which I heard when I was a child and Queen Elizabeth was in the flower of her years was—

When Hempe is spun
England’s done;

whereby it was generally conceived that after the sovereigns had reigned which had the letters of that word HEMPE, (which were Henry, Edward, Mary, Philip, Elizabeth,) England should come to utter confusion; which, thanks be to God, is verified in the change of the name, for that the King’s style is now no more of _England_, but of _Britain_.”

THE BREVITY OF HUMAN LIFE.

_Behold, alas! our days we spend:
How vain they be, how soon they end!_
BEHOLD
How short a span
Was long enough of old
To measure out the life of man;
In those well-tempered days his time was then
Surveyed, cast up, and found but threescore years and ten.
ALAS!
What is all that?
They come and slide and pass
Before my tongue can tell thee what.
The posts of time are swift, which having run
Their seven short stages o’er, their short-lived task is done.
OUR DAYS
Begun, we bend
To sleep, to antic plays
And toys, until the first stage end;
12 waning moons, twice 5 times told, we give
To unrecovered loss: we rather breathe than live.
WE SPEND
A ten years’ breath
Before we apprehend
What ’tis to live in fear of death;
Our childish dreams are filled with painted joys
Which please our sense, and waking prove but toys.
HOW VAIN,
How wretched is
Poor man, that doth remain
A slave to such a state as this!
His days are short at longest; few at most;
They are but bad at best, yet lavished out, or lost.
THEY BE
The secret springs
That make our minutes flee
On wings more swift than eagles’ wings!
Our life’s a clock, and every gasp of breath
Breathes forth a warning grief, till time shall strike a death.
HOW SOON
Our new-born light
Attains to full-aged noon!
And this, how soon to gray-haired night;
We spring, we bud, we blossom, and we blast,
Ere we can count our days, our days they flee so fast.
THEY END
When scarce begun,
And ere we apprehend
That we begin to live, our life is done.
Man, count thy days; and if they fly too fast
For thy dull thoughts to count, count every day the last.

A VALENTINE.

The reader, by taking the first letter of the first of the following lines, the second letter of the second line, the third of the third, and so on to the end, can spell the name of the lady to whom they were addressed by Edgar A. Poe.

For her this rhyme is penned whose luminous eyes,
BRightly expressive as the twins of Lœda,
ShAll find her own sweet name, that nestling lies
UpoN the page, enwrapped from every reader.
SearCh narrowly the lines!—they hold a treasure
DivinE—a talisman—an amulet
That muSt be worn _at heart_. Search well the measure—
The wordS—the syllables! Do not forget
The triviAlest point, or you may lose your labor!
And yet theRe is in this no Gordian knot
Which one miGht not undo without a sabre,
If one could mErely comprehend the plot.
Enwritten upoN the leaf where now are peering
Eyes scintillaTing soul, there lie _perdus_
Three eloquent wOrds, oft uttered in the hearing
Of poets, by poets—aS the name’s a poet’s, too.
Its letters, althouGh naturally lying
Like the knight PintO—Mendez Ferdinando—
Still form a synonym fOr Truth. Cease trying!
You will not read the riDdle, though you do the best you _can do_.

ANAGRAMS.

But with still more disordered march advance
(Nor march it seemed, but wild fantastic dance)
The uncouth Anagrams, distorted train,
Shifting in double mazes o’er the plain.—_Scribleriad._

Camden, in a chapter in his _Remains_, on this frivolous and now almost obsolete intellectual exercise, defines Anagrams to be a dissolution of a name into its letters, as its elements; and a new connection into words is formed by their transposition, if possible, without addition, subtraction, or change of the letters: and the words should make a sentence applicable to the person or thing named. The anagram is complimentary or satirical; it may contain some allusion to an event, or describe some personal characteristic. Thus, Sir Thomas Wiat bore his own designation in his name:—

Wiat—A Wit.

_Astronomer_ may be made _Moon-starer_, and _Telegraph_, _Great Help_. _Funeral_ may be converted into _Real Fun_, and _Presbyterian_ may be made _Best in prayer_. In _stone_ may be found _tones_, _notes_, or _seton_; and (taking _j_ and _v_ as duplicates of _i_ and _u_) the letters of the alphabet may be arranged so as to form the words _back_, _frown’d_, _phlegm_, _quiz_, and _Styx_. _Roma_ may be transposed into _amor_, _armo_, _Maro_, _mora_, _oram_, or _ramo_. The following epigram occurs in a book printed in 1660:

Hate and debate Rome through the world has spread;
Yet Roma _amor_ is, if backward read:
Then is it strange Rome hate should foster? No;
For out of backward _love_ all hate doth grow.

It is said that the cabalists among the Jews were professed anagrammatists, the third part of their art called _themuru_ (changing) being nothing more than finding the hidden and mystical meaning in names, by transposing and differently combining the letters of those names. Thus, of the letters of _Noah’s_ name in Hebrew, they made _grace_; and of the _Messiah_ they made _he shall rejoice_.

Lycophron, a Greek writer who lived three centuries before the Christian era, records two anagrams in his poem on the siege of Troy entitled _Cassandra_. One is on the name of Ptolemy Philadelphus, in whose reign Lycophron lived:—

ΠΤΟΛΕΜΑΙΣ ΑΠΟ ΜΕΛΙΤΟΣ—Made of honey.

The other is on Ptolemy’s queen, Arsinoë:—

ΑΡΣΙΝΟΕ. ΕΡΑΣ ΙΟΝ—Juno’s violet.

Eustachius informs us that this practice was common among the Greeks, and gives numerous examples; such, for instance, as the transposition of the word Αρετη, virtue, into Ερατη, lovely.

Owen, the Welsh epigrammatist, sometimes called the British Martial, lived in the golden age of anagrammatism. The following are fair specimens of his ingenuity:—

§Galenus—Angelus.§

_Angelus_ es bonus anne malus; _Galene!_ salutis
Humana custos, _angelus_ ergo bonus,

§De Fide—Anagramma quincuplex.§

_Recta_ fides, _certa_ est, _arcet_ mala schismata, non est,
Sicut _Creta_, fides fictilis, arte _caret_.

§Brevitas—Anagramma triplex.§

Perspicua brevitate nihil magis afficit aures
In _verbis_, _ubi res_ postulat, esto _brevis_.

In a _New Help to Discourse_, 12mo, London, 1684, occurs an anagram with a very quaint epigrammatic “exposition:”—

TOAST—A SOTT.

A toast is like a sot; or, what is most
Comparative, a sot is like a toast;
For when their substances in liquor sink,
Both properly are said to be in drink.

Cotton Mather was once described as distinguished for—

“Care to guide his flock and feed his lambs
By words, works, prayers, psalms, alms, _and anagrams_.”

Sylvester, in dedicating to his sovereign his translation of Du Bartas, rings the following loyal change on the name of his liege:—

James Stuart—A just master.

Of the poet Waller, the old anagrammatist said:—

His brows need not with _Lawrel_ to be bound,
Since in his name with _Lawrel_ he is crowned.

The author of an extraordinary work on heraldry was thus expressively complimented:—

Randle Holmes.
Lo, Men’s Herald!

The following on the name of the mistress of Charles IX. of France is historically true:—

Marie Touchet,
Je charme tout.

In the assassin of Henry III.,

Frère Jacques Clement,

they discovered

C’est l’enfer qui m’a crée.

The French appear to have practised this art with peculiar facility. A French poet, deeply in love, in one day sent his mistress, whose name was _Magdelaine_, three dozen of anagrams on her single name.

The father Pierre de St. Louis became a Carmelite monk on discovering that his lay name—

Ludovicus Bartelemi—

yielded the anagram—

Carmelo se devovet.

Of all the extravagances occasioned by the anagrammatic fever when at its height, none equals what is recorded of an infatuated Frenchman in the seventeenth century, named André Pujom, who, finding in his name the anagram _Pendu à Riom_, (the seat of criminal justice in the province of Auvergne,) felt impelled to fulfill his destiny, committed a capital offence in Auvergne, and was actually hung in the place to which the omen pointed.

The anagram on General Monk, afterwards Duke of Albemarle, on the restoration of Charles II., is also a chronogram, including the date of that important event:—

Georgius Monke, Dux de Aumarle,
Ego Regem reduxi Ano. Sa. MDCLVV.

The mildness of the government of Elizabeth, contrasted with her intrepidity against the Iberians, is thus picked out of her title: she is made the English lamb and the Spanish lioness.

Elizabetha Regina Angliæ,
Anglis Agna, Hiberiæ Lea.

The unhappy history of Mary Queen of Scots, the deprivation of her kingdom, and her violent death, are expressed in the following Latin anagram:—

Maria Steuarda Scotorum Regina.
Trusa vi Regnis, morte amara cado.

In Taylor’s _Suddaine Turne of Fortune’s Wheele_, occurs the following very singular example:—

But, holie father, I am certifyed
That they your power and policye deride;
And how of you they make an anagram,
The best and bitterest that the wits could frame.

As thus:

_Supremus Pontifex Romanus_.

Annagramma:

_O non sum super petrum fixus_.

The anagram on the well-known bibliographer, William Oldys, may claim a place among the first productions of this class. It was by Oldys himself, and was found by his executors among his MSS.

In word and §WILL I AM§ a friend to you;
And one friend §OLD§ is worth a hundred new.

The following anagram, preserved in the files of the First Church in Roxbury, was sent to Thomas Dudley, a governor and major-general of the colony of Massachusetts, in 1645. He died in 1653, aged 77.

THOMAS DUDLEY.

Ah! old must dye.
A death’s head on your hand you neede not weare,
A dying head you on your shoulders beare.
You need not one to mind you, you must dye,
You in your name may spell mortalitye.
Younge men may dye, but old men, these dye must;
’Twill not be long before you turne to dust.
Before you turne to dust! ah! must! old! dye!
What shall younge doe when old in dust doe lye?
When old in dust lye, what N. England doe?
When old in dust doe lye, it’s best dye too.

In an Elegy written by Rev. John Cotton on the death of John Alden, a magistrate of the old Plymouth Colony, who died in 1687, the following _phonetic_ anagram occurs:—

John Alden—End al on hi.

The Calvinistic opponents of Arminius made of his name a not very creditable Latin anagram:—

Jacobus Arminius,
Vani orbis amicus;
(The friend of a false world.)

while his friends, taking advantage of the Dutch mode of writing it, _H_arminius, hurled back the conclusive argument,

Habui curam Sionis.
(I have had charge of Zion.)

Perhaps the most extraordinary anagram to be met with, is that on the Latin of Pilate’s question to the Saviour, “What is truth?”—St. John, xviii. 38.

Quid est veritas?
Est vir qui adest.
(It is the man who is before you.)

Live, vile, and evil, have the self-same letters;
He lives but vile, whom evil holds in fetters.

If you transpose what ladies wear—§Veil§,
’Twill plainly show what bad folks are—§Vile§.
Again if you transpose the same,
You’ll see an ancient Hebrew name—§Levi§.
Change it again, and it will show
What all on earth desire to do—§Live§.
Transpose the letters yet once more,
What bad men do you’ll then explore—§Evil§.

PERSIST.

A lady, being asked by a gentleman to join in the bonds of matrimony with him, wrote the word “§Stripes§,” stating at the time that the letters making up the word stripes could be changed so as to make an answer to his question. The result proved satisfactory.

When _I cry that I sin_ is transposed, it is clear,
My resource _Christianity_ soon will appear.

The two which follow are peculiarly appropriate:—

Florence Nightingale,
Flit on, charming angel.

John Abernethy,
Johnny the bear.

T I M E
I T E M
M E T I
E M I T

This word, Time, is the only word in the English language which can be thus arranged, and the different transpositions thereof are all at the same time Latin words. These words, in English as well as in Latin, may be read either upward or downward. Their signification as Latin words is as follows:—Time—fear thou; Item—likewise; Meti—to be measured; Emit—he buys.

Some striking German and Latin anagrams have been made of Luther’s name, of which the following are specimens. Doctor Martinus Lutherus transposed, gives _O Rom, Luther ist der schwan_. In D. Martinus Lutherus may be found _ut turris das lumen_ (like a tower you give light). In Martinus Lutherus we have _vir multa struens_ (the man who builds up much), and _ter matris vulnus_ (he gave three wounds to the mother church). Martin Luther will make _lehrt in Armuth_ (he teaches in poverty).

Jablonski welcomed the visit of Stanislaus, King of Poland, with his noble relatives of the house of Lescinski, to the annual examination of the students under his care, at the gymnasium of Lissa, with a number of anagrams, all composed of the letters in the words _Domus Lescinia_. The recitations closed with a heroic dance, in which each youth carried a shield inscribed with a legend of the letters. After a new evolution, the boys exhibited the words _Ades incolumis_; next, _Omnis es lucida_; next, _Omne sis lucida_; fifthly, _Mane sidus loci_; sixthly, _Sis columna Dei_; and at the conclusion, _I scande solium_.

A TELEGRAM ANAGRAMMATISED.

Though but a _late germ_, with a wondrous elation,
Yet like a _great elm_ it o’ershadows each station.
_Et malgré_ the office is still a large fee mart,
So joyous the crowd was, you’d thought it a _glee mart_;
But they raged at no news from the nation’s belligerent,
And I said _let’m rage_, since the air is refrigerant.
I then _met large_ numbers, whose drink was not sherbet,
Who scarce could look up when their eyes the gas-_glare met_;
So when I had learned from commercial adviser
That _mere galt_ for sand was the great fertilizer,
I bade _Mr. Eaglet_, although ’twas ideal,
Get some from the clay-pit, and so _get’m real_;
Then, just as my footstep was leaving the portal,
I met an _elm targe_ on a great Highland mortal,
With the maid he had woo’d by the loch’s flowery _margelet_,
And row’d in his boat, which for rhyme’s sake call bargelet,
And blithe to the breeze would have set the sail daily,
But it blew at that rate which the sailors _term gale_, aye;
I stumbled against the fair bride he had married,
When a _merle gat_ at large from a cage that she carried;
She gave a loud screech! and I could not well blame her,
But lame as I was, I’d no wish to _get lamer_;
So I made my escape—ne’er an antelope fleeter,
Lest my verse, like the poet, should limp through _lag metre_.

Anagrams are sometimes found in old epitaphial inscriptions. For example, at St. Andrews:—

Catharine Carstairs,
_Casta rara Christiana_.
_Chaste, rare Christian._

At Newenham church, Northampton:—

William Thorneton.
_O little worth in man._

At Keynsham:—

Mrs. Joane Flover.
_Love for anie._

At Mannington, 1631:—

Katherine Lougher,
_Lower taken higher_.

Maitland has the following curious specimen:—

How much there is in a word—_monastery_, says I: why, that makes _nasty Rome_; and when I looked at it again, it was evidently _more nasty_—a very vile place _or mean sty_. _Ay, monster_, says I, you are found out. What monster? said the Pope. What monster? said I. Why, your own image there, _stone Mary_. That, he replied, is _my one star_, my Stella Maris, my treasure, my guide! No, said I, you should rather say, _my treason_. _Yet no arms_, said he. No, quoth I, quiet may suit best, as long as you have _no mastery_, I mean _money arts_. No, said he again, those are _Tory means_; and Dan, _my senator_, will baffle them. I don’t know that, said I, but I think one might make no _mean story_ out of this one word—_monastery_.

CHRONOGRAMS.

Addison, in his remarks on the different species of false wit, (Spect. No. 60,) thus notices the chronogram. “This kind of wit appears very often on modern medals, especially those of Germany, when they represent in the inscription the year in which they were coined. Thus we see on a medal of Gustavus Adolphus the following words:—

§ChrIstVs DuX ergo trIVMphVs.§

If you take the pains to pick the figures out of the several words, and range them in their proper order, you will find they amount to MDCXVVVII, or 1627, the year in which the medal was stamped; for as some of the letters distinguish themselves from the rest and overtop their fellows, they are to be considered in a double capacity, both as letters and as figures. Your laborious German wits will turn over a whole dictionary for one of these ingenious devices. A man would think they were searching after an apt classical term; but instead of that they are looking out a word that has an L, an M, or a D, in it. When therefore we meet with any of these inscriptions, we are not so much to look in them for the thought as for the year of the Lord.”

Apropos of this humorous allusion to the _Germanesque_ character of the chronogram, it is worthy of notice that European tourists find far more numerous examples of it in the inscriptions on the churches on the banks of the Rhine than in any other part of the continent.

* * * * *

On the title-page of “_Hugo Grotius his Sophompaneas_” the date, 1652, is not given in the usual form, but is included in the name of the author, thus:—

§franCIs goLDsMIth.§

Howell, in his _German Diet_, after narrating the death of Charles, son of Philip II. of Spain, says:—

If you desire to know the year, this chronogram will tell you:

§fILIVs ante DIeM patrIos InqVIrIt In annos.§
MDLVVIIIIIIII, or 1568.

The following commemorates the death of Queen Elizabeth:—

_My Day Is Closed In Immortality._ (1603.)

A German book was issued in 1706, containing fac-similes and descriptions of more than two hundred medals coined in honor of Martin Luther. An inscription on one of them expresses the date of his death, 1546, as follows:—

§ECCe nVnc MorItVs IVstVs In paCe ChrIstI exItV tVto et beato.§

The most extraordinary attempt of this kind that has yet been made, bears the following title:—

_Chronographica Gratulatio in Felicissimum adventum Serenissimi Cardinalis Ferdinandi, Hispaniarum Infantis, a Collegio Soc. Jesu._

A dedication to St. Michael and an address to Ferdinand are followed by one hundred hexameters, _every one of which is a chronogram_, and each gives the same result, 1634. The first and last verses are subjoined as a specimen.

AngeLe CæLIVogI MIChaëL LUX UnICa CætUs.
VersICULIs InCLUsa, fLUent In sæCULa CentUM.

Palindromes.

RECURRENT, RECIPROCAL, OR REVERSIBLE WORDS AND VERSES.

The only fair specimen we can find of reciprocal words, or those which, read backwards or forwards, are the same, is the following couplet, which, according to an old book, cost the author a world of foolish labor:—

Odo tenet mulum, madidam mulum tenet Odo.
Anna tenet mappam, madidam mappam tenet Anna.

The following admired reciprocal lines, addressed to St. Martin by Satan, according to the legend, the reader will find on perusal, either backwards or forwards, precisely the same:—

Signa te signa; temere me tangis et angis;
Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor.

[St. Martin having given up the profession of a soldier, and having
been made Bishop of Tours, when prelates neither kept carriages nor
servants, had occasion to go to Rome, in order to consult the Pope
upon ecclesiastical matters. As he was walking along the road he met
the devil, who politely accosted him, and ventured to observe how
fatiguing and indecorous it was for him to perform so long a journey
on foot, like the commonest pilgrim. The Saint understood the drift of
Old Nick’s address, and commanded him immediately to become a beast of
burden, or _jumentum_; which the devil did in a twinkling by assuming
the shape of a mule. The Saint jumped upon the fiend’s back, who at
first trotted cheerfully along, but soon slackened his pace. The
bishop of course had neither whip nor spurs, but was possessed of a
much more powerful stimulus, for, says the legend, he made the sign of
the cross, and the smarting devil instantly galloped away. Soon
however, and naturally enough, the father of sin returned to sloth and
obstinacy, and Martin hurried him again with repeated signs of the
cross, till, twitched and stung to the quick by those crossings so
hateful to him, the vexed and tired reprobate uttered the foregoing
distich in a rage, meaning, _Cross, cross yourself; you annoy and vex
me without necessity; for owing to my exertions, Rome, the object of
your wishes, will soon be near_.]

The Palindrome changes the sense in the backward reading; the _Versus Cancrinus_ retains the sense in both instances unchanged, as in this instance:—

Bei Leid lieh stets Heil die Lieb.
(In trouble comfort is lent by love.)

Similarly recurrent is the lawyer’s motto,—

Si nummi immunis,

translated by Camden, “Give me my fee, I warrant you free.”

The Greek inscription on the mosque of St. Sophia, in Constantinople,

Νίφον ἀνομήματα μὴ μόναν ὄφιν,[5]

Footnote 5:

Meaning in substance, _Purify the mind as well as the body_.

presents the same words, whether read from left to right, or from right to left. So also the expressions in English,—

Madam, I’m Adam. (_Adam to Eve._)
Name no one man.
Able was I ere I saw Elba. (_Napoleon loq._)
Snug & raw was I ere I saw war & guns.
Red rum did emit revel ere Lever time did murder.
Red root put up to order.
Trash? even interpret Nineveh’s art.
Lewd did I live, evil I did dwel.
Draw pupil’s lip upward.

This enigmatical line surrounds a figure of the sun in the mosaic pavement of Sa. Maria del Fiori, at Florence:—

En giro torte sol ciclos et rotor igne.

These lines are supposed to be addressed to a young man detained at Rome by a love affair:—

Roma ibi tibi sedes—ibi tibi Amor;
Roma etsi te terret et iste Amor,
Ibi etsi vis te non esse—sed es ibi,
Roma te tenet et Amor.

At Rome you live—at Rome you love;
From Rome that love may you affright,
Although you’d leave, you never move,
For love and Rome both bar your flight.

Dean Swift wrote a letter to Dr. Sheridan, composed of Latin words strung together as mere gibberish but each word, when read backwards, makes passable English. Take for example the following short sentences:—

Mi Sana. Odioso ni mus rem. Moto ima os illud dama nam? (I’m an ass. O
so I do in summer. O Tom, am I so dull, I a mad man?)

Inscription for a hospital, paraphrased from the Psalms:—

Acide me malo, sed non desola me, medica.

The ingenious Latin verses subjoined are reversible verbally only, not literally, and will be found to embody opposite meanings by commencing with the last word and reading backwards:—

Prospicimus modo, quod durabunt tempore longo,
Fœdera, nec patriæ pax cito diffugiet.

Diffugiet cito pax patriæ, nec fœdera longo,
Tempore durabunt, quod modo prospicimus.

The following hexameter from Santa Marca Novella, Florence, refers to the sacrifice of Abel (Gen. iv. 4). Reversed, it is a pentameter, and refers to the sacrifice of Cain (iv. 3).

Sacrum pingue dabo non macram sacrificabo,
Sacrificabo macram non dabo pingue sacrum.

The subjoined distich arose from the following circumstance. A tutor, after having explained to his class one of the odes of Horace, undertook to dictate the same in hexameter verses, as an exercise (as he said). It cost him considerable trouble: he hesitated several times, and occasionally substituted other words, but finally succeeded. Some of his scholars thought he would not accomplish his task; others maintained that, having begun, it was a point of honor to complete it.

Retro mente labo, non metro continuabo;
Continuabo metro; non labo mente retro.

Addison mentions an epigram called the _Witches’ Prayer_, that “fell into verse when it was read either backward or forward, excepting only that it cursed one way, and blessed the other.”

One of the most remarkable palindromes on record is the following. Its distinguishing peculiarity is that the first letter of each successive word unites to spell the first word; the second letter of each, the second word; and so on throughout; and the same will be found precisely true on reversal.

SATOR AREPO TENET OPERA ROTAS.

But the neatest and prettiest specimen that has yet appeared comes from a highly cultivated lady who was attached to the court of Queen Elizabeth. Having been banished from the court on suspicion of too great familiarity with a nobleman then high in favor, the lady adopted this device,—_the moon covered by a cloud_,—and the following palindrome for a motto:—

ABLATA AT ALBA.

(Banished, but blameless.)

The merit of this kind of composition was never in any example so heightened by appropriateness and delicacy of sentiment.

Paschasius composed the recurrent epitaph on Henry IV.:—

Arca serenum me gere regem, munere sacra,
Solem, arcas, animos, omina sacra, melos.

A very curious continuous series of palindromes was printed in Vienna in 1802. It was written in ancient Greek by a modern Greek named Ambrosius, who called it Πόιημα καρκινικὸν. It contains 455 lines, every one of which is a literal palindrome. A few are selected at random, as examples:—

Ἰσα πασι Ση τε υη, Συ ὁ Μουσηγετης ις απασι.
Νεαν ασω μελιφωνον, ὦ φιλε, Μωσαν αεν.
Ὠ λακωνικε, σε μονω τω Νομε, σε κινω καλω.
Ἀρετα πηγασε σε σα γη πατερα.
Σωτηρ συ εσο, ὦ ελεε θεε λεω ος ευς ρητως.

The following line is expressive of the sentiments of a Roman Catholic; read backwards, of those of a Huguenot:—

Patrum dicta probo, nec sacris belligerabo.
Belligerabo sacris, nec probo dicta patrum.

These lines, written to please a group of youthful folk, serve to show that our English tongue is as capable of being twisted into uncouth shapes as is the Latin, if any one will take the trouble:—

One winter’s eve, around the fire, a cozy group we sat,
Engaged, as was our custom old, in after-dinner chat;
Small-talk it was, no doubt, because the smaller folk were there,
And they, the young monopolists! absorbed the lion’s share.
Conundrums, riddles, rebuses, cross-questions, puns atrocious,
Taxed all their ingenuity, till Peter the precocious—
Old head on shoulders juvenile—cried, “Now for a new task:
Let’s try our hand at _Palindromes_!” “Agreed! But first,” we ask,
“Pray, Peter, what _are_ Palindromes?” The forward imp replied,
“A _Palindrome_’s a string of words of sense or meaning void,
Which reads both ways the same: and here, with your permission,
I’ll cite some half a score of samples, lacking all precision
(But held together by loose rhymes, to test my definition):—

“A milksop, jilted by his lass, or wandering in his wits,
Might murmur, ‘_Stiff, O dairy-man, in a myriad of fits!_’

“A limner by photography dead-beat in competition,
Thus grumbled, ‘_No, it is opposed; art sees trade’s opposition!_’

“A nonsense-loving nephew might his soldier-uncle dun
With ‘_Now stop, major-general, are negro jam-pots won?_’

“A supercilious grocer, if inclined that way, might snub
A child with ‘_But regusa store, babe, rots a sugar-tub_.’

“Thy spectre, Alexander, is a fortress, cried Hephaestion.
Great A. said, ‘_No, it’s a bar of gold, a bad log for a bastion!_’

“A timid creature, fearing rodents—mice and such small fry—
‘_Stop, Syrian, I start at rats in airy spots_,’ might cry.

“A simple soul, whose wants are few, might say, with hearty zest,
‘_Desserts I desire not, so long no lost one rise distressed_.’

“A stern Canadian parent might in earnest, not in fun,
Exclaim, ‘_No sot nor Ottawa law at Toronto, son!_’

“A crazy dentist might declare, as something strange or new,
That ‘_Paget saw an Irish tooth, sir, in a waste gap!_’ True!

“A surly student, hating sweets, might answer with _elan_,
‘_Name tarts? no, medieval slave, I demonstrate man!_’

“He who in Nature’s bitters findeth sweet food every day,
‘_Eureka! till I pull up ill I take rue_,’ well might say.”

Equivoque.

COPY OF A LETTER WRITTEN BY CARDINAL RICHELIEU TO THE FRENCH AMBASSADOR
AT ROME.

First read the letter across, then double it in the middle, and read the first column.

§Sir§,—Mons. Compigne, a Savoyard by birth, a Friar of the order of Saint Benedict, is the man who will present to you as his passport to your protection, this letter. He is one of the most discreet, the wisest and the least meddling persons that I have ever known or have had the pleasure to converse with. He has long earnestly solicited me to write to you in his favor, and to give him a suitable character, together with a letter of credence; which I have accordingly granted to his real merit, rather I must say, than to his importunity; for, believe me, Sir, his modesty is only exceeded by his worth, I should be sorry that you should be wanting in serving him on account of being misinformed of his real character; I should be afflicted if you were as some other gentlemen have been, misled on that score, who now esteem him, and those among the best of my friends; wherefore, and from no other motive I think it my duty to advertise you that you are most particularly desired, to have especial attention to all he does, to show him all the respect imaginable, nor venture to say any thing before him, that may either offend or displease him in any sort; for I may truly say, there is no man I love so much as M. Compigne, none whom I should more regret to see neglected, as no one can be more worthy to be received and trusted in decent society. Base, therefore, would it be to injure him. And I well know, that as soon as you are made sensible of his virtues, and shall become acquainted with him you will love him as I do; and then you will thank me for this my advice. The assurance I entertain of your Courtesy obliges me to desist from urging this matter to you further, or saying any thing more on this subject. Believe me, Sir, &c. RICHELIEU.

A LOVE-LETTER.

The reader, after perusing it, will please read it again, commencing on the first line, then the third and fifth, and so on, reading each alternate line to the end.

§To Miss M——.§

—The great love I have hitherto expressed for you
is false and I find my indifference towards you
—increases daily. The more I see of you, the more
you appear in my eyes an object of contempt.
—I feel myself every way disposed and determined
to hate you. Believe me, I never had an intention
—to offer you my hand. Our last conversation has
left a tedious insipidity, which has by no means
—given me the most exalted idea of your character.
Your temper would make me extremely unhappy
—and were we united, I should experience nothing but
the hatred of my parents added to the anything but
—pleasure in living with you. I have indeed a heart
to bestow, but I do not wish you to imagine it
—at your service. I could not give it to any one more
inconsistent and capricious than yourself, and less
—capable to do honor to my choice and to my family.
Yes, Miss, I hope you will be persuaded that
—I speak sincerely, and you will do me a favor
to avoid me. I shall excuse you taking the trouble
—to answer this. Your letters are always full of
impertinence, and you have not a shadow of
—wit and good sense. Adieu! adieu! believe me
so averse to you, that it is impossible for me even
—to be your most affectionate friend and humble
servant. L——.

INGENIOUS SUBTERFUGE.

A young lady newly married, being obliged to show to her husband all the letters she wrote, sent the following to an intimate friend. The key is, to read the first and then every alternate line only.