AN AGGRIEVED SUBSCRIBER.
The following letter was received recently:
"Dear Sir: I hereby offer my resignashun as a subscribber to your papier, it being a pamphlet of such small konsequenc as not to benefit my family by takin it. What you need in your shete is branes & some one to russel up news and rite edytorials on live topics. No menshun has bin made in your shete of me butcherin a polen china pig weighin 369 pounds or the gapes in the chickens out this way. You ignor the fact that i bot a bran new bob sled and that I traded my blind mule and say nothin about Hi Simpkins jersey calf breaking his two front legs fallin in a well. 2 important chiverees have bin utterly ignored by your shete & a 3 column obitchury notice writ by me on the death of grandpa Henery was left out of your shete to say nothin of the alfabetical poem beginning 'A is for And and also for Ark,' writ by me darter. This is the reason why your paper is so unpopular here. If you don't want edytorials from this place and ain't goin to put up no news in your shete we don't want said shete.
"P.S.—If you print obitchury in your next i may sine again fur yure shete."—Holdenville (Indian Territory) Tribune.
THE PROFESSION OF THE FOOL.
The Term Which Is Now Used to Describe Persons Who Are Lacking in Mental Capacity
Once Was the Acknowledged Title of Men of Extraordinary
Wit and Understanding.
Every man "in his time plays many parts," and it often has happened that the wise man's fate has required him to play the fool. In our day, the word "fool" is used to describe a person who is wanting in judgment or general mental capacity, and when we see a representation of an old-time fool, wearing his fool's cap and bells, we are likely to regard the original as having had the characteristics of a modern circus clown.
The fact, however, is that the professional fool of two centuries ago was an altogether different sort of person. He held his position by reason of his ready wit, which, in truth, was often wisdom in disguise. Until the end of the seventeenth century, jesters, or fools, as they were usually called, were in the retinue of every king and princeling.
That the private fool existed even as late as the eighteenth century is proved by Swift's epitaph on Dicky Pearce, but the last licensed fool of England was Armstrong, court jester to James I and Charles I, who died in 1672. He lost his office and was banished from court for a too free play of wit against Archbishop Laud.
L'Angèly, his contemporary, and the last titled fool in France, was court fool to Louis XIII, and died in 1679. He was a man of gentle birth, but very poor. His biting, caustic wit, however, was so dreaded by the courtiers that he grew rich from the sums which they paid him to purchase immunity from his satire.
Ancient Greece had a class of professed fools similar to those of the Middle Ages. The Romans went a step farther and made human monstrosities of their slaves—hideous things to amuse by grotesque forms and antics their cruel masters.
The fool's business, primarily, was to amuse, but owing to the fact that he dared to tell the truth, much of an instructive nature was gathered from him by his master.
His dress varied considerably in different periods; and on his shaven head was a covering that resembled a monk's cowl, and crested with a cock's comb or with asses' ears. He wore motley, and little bells hung from various parts of his attire. He carried always a bauble, or short staff, bearing a grotesque head, sometimes the counterpart of his own.
In England, the names and sallies of many of the court jesters have been recorded, while literature makes frequent reference to them.
Prominent in the list is Will Sommers, who was court jester to Henry VIII. His effigy is at Hampton Court, and a tavern in Old Fish Street, London, once bore his name. He died in 1560.
John Heywood, who was jester to Queen Mary, was the author of numerous dramatic works and poems, and was a highly educated man.
Tarleton, famous as a clown, cannot well be omitted from the list, although he was not a licensed jester. He lived during Elizabeth's reign, but was not attached to the court nor to any nobleman. A book of his jests was published in 1611, twenty-three years after his death.
The identity of "Will," referred to as "my lord of Leicester's jesting player," never has been satisfactorily explained. Some authorities are inclined to believe that he was Will Shakespeare himself.
In France, the fantastic figure in motley lights up many dark and tragic pages of history. Triboulet, who was jester to Louis XII and Francis I, was the hero of Hugo's "Le Roi S'amuse," of Verdi's opera "Rigoletto," and appears in Rabelais' romance. His portrait was painted by Licinio, the rival of Titian.
Chicot, who was the friend as well as the jester of Henri III, has been clearly delineated by Dumas, père, in his "Dame de Monsoreau."
Finally, there is Yorick. "Alas! poor Yorick"—who was jester at the Court of Denmark, and immortalized by Shakespeare as "a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy."
The word "fool" ceases to be a term of reproach when this array of cheery fun-makers is considered, all of them bearing the title proudly and as an honor.
The Red Man Eloquent.
Remarkable Speech Delivered in 1842 by Colonel Cobb, Head Mingo of the
Choctaws East of the Mississippi, When the Federal Government
Was Forcing the Tribe Westward.
The American Indian was a natural orator. His inspiration came straight from the life of the forest and plain. Figurative language adorned his every-day speech, which was full of allusions to sun, moon, stars, the thunder, the waterfall. Exaggeration, of course, was to be expected of him, and most of the specimens of Indian eloquence that have been translated and preserved are marred by hyperbole. There remains, however, at least one bit of native American eloquence deserving of recognition as equal to the best of its kind in all nations, and that is the speech delivered in 1842 by Colonel Cobb, Head Mingo of the Choctaws east of the Mississippi, in reply to the agent of the United States.
The Choctaws formerly inhabited the lands included in what is now central and southern Mississippi and western Alabama. They were an active nation, subsisting mainly by agriculture. Because they flattened the foreheads of their children, the French called them Flatheads. They acknowledged the sovereignty of the United States in 1786, and in the War of 1812 and the Creek War they served the government. In 1830 they ceded the last of their lands to the government, and were moved during the next fifteen years to the Indian Territory, where they developed a form of constitutional self-rule which has been completely done away with only during the present year.
The removal of the Choctaws from their original home was accomplished gradually, but, as Colonel Cobb's speech indicates, not without friction. J.J. McRae, to whom Colonel Cobb addressed himself, had been authorized to enroll the Choctaws remaining east of the Mississippi and transport them to their new home. Standing by Mr. McRae's side was William Tyler, of Virginia, member of the Choctaw commission, and brother of John Tyler, the then President of the United States. Colonel Cobb, in his closing sentence, referred to William Tyler.
One thousand Choctaws were assembled at Hopahka. Mr. McRae explained to them that their "council fires could be no more kindled here," that "their warriors could have no field for their glory, and their spirits would decay within them." But, he said, if they would "take the hand of their great father, the President, which was now offered to them to lead them to their Western home, then would their hopes be higher, their destinies brighter." Colonel Cobb's reply would be hard to excel in beauty of diction, comprehensive brevity, and elevation of sentiment.
Brother—We have heard you talk as from the lips of our father, the great white chief at Washington, and my people have called upon me to speak to you. The red man has no books, and when he wishes to make known his views, like his fathers before him, he speaks from his mouth. He is afraid of writing. When he speaks he knows what he says; the Great Spirit hears him. Writing is the invention of the pale faces; it gives birth to error and to feuds. The Great Spirit talks—we hear him in the thunder—in the rushing winds and the mighty waters—but he never writes.
Brother—When you were young we were strong; we fought by your side; but our arms are now broken. You have grown large. My people have become small.
Brother—My voice is weak, you can scarcely hear me; it is not the shout of a warrior, but the wail of an infant. I have lost it in mourning over the misfortunes of my people. These are their graves, and in those aged pines you hear the ghosts of the departed. Their ashes are here, and we have been left to protect them. Our warriors are nearly all gone to the far country West; but here are the resting-places of our dead. Shall we go, too, and give their bones to the wolves?
Brother—Two sleeps have passed since we heard you talk. We have thought upon it. You ask us to leave our country, and tell us it is our father's wish. We would not desire to displease our father. We respect him, and you his child. But the Choctaw always thinks. We want time to answer.
Brother—Our hearts are full. Twelve winters ago our chiefs sold our country. Every warrior that you see here was opposed to the treaty. If the dead could have been counted, it could never have been made; but alas, though they stood around, they could not be seen or heard. Their tears came in the rain-drops and their voices in the wailing wind, but the pale faces knew it not, and our land was taken away.
Brother—We do not now complain. The Choctaw suffers, but he never weeps. You have the strong arm and we cannot resist. But the pale face worships the Great Spirit. So does the red man. The Great Spirit loves truth. When you took our country, you promised us land. There is your promise in the book. Twelve times have the trees dropped their leaves, and yet we have received no land. Our houses have been taken from us. The white man's plow turns up the bones of our fathers. We dare not kindle our fires; and yet you said we might remain, and you would give us land.
Brother—Is this truth? But we believe now our great father knows our condition; he will listen to us. We are as mourning orphans in our country; but our father will take us by the hand. When he fulfils his promise, we will answer his talk. He means well. We know it. But we cannot think now. Grief has made children of us. When our business is settled we shall be men again, and talk to our great father about what he has proposed.
Brother—You stand in the moccasins of the great chief, you speak the words of a mighty nation, and your talk is long. My people are small; their shadow scarcely reaches to your knee; they are scattered and gone; when I shout I hear my voice in the depths of the woods, but no answering shout comes back. My words, therefore, are few. I have nothing more to say, but I ask you to tell what I have said to the tall chief of the pale faces, whose brother stands by your side.
OTHER WAYS OF SAYING "HOWDY DO?"
Various Nations Have Different Methods of Propounding This Time-Honored Query, But
All Mean Pretty Much the Same Thing.
"How do you do?" That's English and American.
"How do you carry yourself?" That's French.
"How do you stand?" That's Italian.
"How goes it with you?" That's German.
"How do you fare?" That's Dutch.
"How can you?" That's Swedish.
"How do you perspire?" That's the Egyptian version.
"How is your stomach? Have you eaten your rice?" That's the rather medical way in which the Chinese people express their morning salutation.
"How do you have yourself?" That's Polish.
"How do you live on?" That's Russian.
"May thy shadow never be less." That's Persian.
And all mean much the same thing—the natural expression of sympathy and friendly curiosity when one human being meets another.
Little Glimpses of the 19th Century.
The Great Events in the History of the Last One Hundred Years, Assembled
so as to Present a Nutshell Record.
[Continued from page 340.]
FIFTH DECADE.
1841
William Henry Harrison died April 4, one month after his inauguration as President of the United States, and John Tyler, the Vice-President, succeeded him. Harrison's Cabinet, excepting Daniel Webster, resigned soon after Tyler assumed office, owing to his veto of measures by which the Whigs tried to revive the National Bank. Seminole War, the most protracted and costly of all Indian wars, ended after an expenditure of ten million dollars. University of Michigan founded. Brook Farm communistic experiment begun.
The "opium war" between Great Britain and China continued during intervals separated by periods of negotiation. The British took Hong-Kong, silenced the Bogue forts, destroyed a Chinese flotilla at Canton, took that city, exacted six million dollars' indemnity from local authorities, and forced the reopening of trade there. British fleet, convoying troops and moving northward, captured successively Amoy, Chusan, Chinhai, and Wingpo. In Afghanistan (November 2), British residents and followers at Kabul were massacred, and British troops outside the city were driven off and forced to retreat toward Jelalabad.
Richard Cobden came into prominence in the British Parliament as a free trader, and the struggle over the Corn Laws began. Lord Melbourne's ministry resigned after an unsuccessful appeal to the country, and Sir Robert Peel formed a new cabinet. Punch, the humorous weekly, founded. Sir David Wilkie, English artist; Sir Astley Cooper, English surgeon; and Theodore Hook, English humorist, died.
POPULATION—Washington, D.C., 23,364; New York (including boroughs now forming Greater New York), 391,114; New York (Manhattan), 312,710; London (Metropolitan District, census 1841), 1,873,676; London (old city), 125,009; United States, 17,017,723; Great Britain and Ireland (census 1841), 27,019,558.
RULERS—The same as in the previous year, except that William Henry Harrison became President of the United States, and was succeeded in April by John Tyler.