It is a remarkable instance of the vitality of a popular error that Thackeray, who was well acquainted with French history should, in his “Philip,” chapter XVI, have fallen into the mistake of supposing that Dr. Guillotin perished by the instrument which bears his name, but which he did not, as Thackeray says, invent. Thackeray does not actually assert that Guillotin died on the guillotine, but he puts it in the form of a question, the answer to which is, of course, intended to be yes: “Was not good Dr. Guillotin executed by his own neat invention?” Now nothing is more certain than that Guillotin survived the great revolution many years, and died a natural death in 1814.
LEGENDARY LORE
Ilium Fuit
There is a radical change of opinion with regard to the Iliad. Those who have regarded Homer as a mere myth-collector, and the story of the siege of Troy as a figment of a fertile fancy, have learned that not only do the later critics concede that Homer was a true poet, but that Dr. Schliemann has conclusively proved that he sang of a real Troy and an actual war. How comprehensive the work of critical research has been may be seen in a single incident. A Glasgow surgeon, named Wolfe, reinforced by Mr. Gladstone, has shown that Homer had an ocular defect, that form of amblyopia known as color-blindness, the evidence of which is gathered from the treatment of colors in the Iliad.
A Marred Destiny
At Pevensey is the beach on which the Norman Conqueror landed. The castle on the cliff of Hastings marks the spot where he first planted his standard. From that place it is easy to trace his line of march till he saw Harold with the English army facing him on the fatal hill of Senlac. The battle-field is as well-marked as that of Waterloo, and fancy can recall the charges of the Norman cavalry up the hillside against the solid formation and the shield wall of the Saxon precursors of the British infantry. The ruins of Battle Abbey, the religious trophy of the Conqueror, are still seen, and the site of the high altar exactly marks the spot where the fatal arrow entering Harold’s brain slew not only a king, but a kingdom, and marred the destiny of a race. We are on the scene of one of the great catastrophes of history. Had that arrow missed its mark, Anglo-Saxon institutions would have developed in their integrity, the Anglo-Saxon tongue would have perfected itself in its purity, Anglo-Norman aristocracy would never have been, or have left its evil traces on society, the fatal connection of England and France, and the numerous French wars of the Plantagenets would have been blotted out of the book of fate.
Robinson Crusoe
Dr. Edward Everett Hale has observed a curious feature in “Robinson Crusoe.” He says: “Readers who are curious in English history must not fail to observe that Robinson Crusoe was shipwrecked on his island on September 30, 1659. It was in that month that the English Commonwealth ended and Richard Cromwell left the palace at Whitehall. Robinson lived in this island home for twenty-eight years. These twenty-eight years covered the exact period of the second Stuart reign in England. Robinson Crusoe returned to England in June, 1687; the Convention Parliament which established William III. met in London at the same time. All this could not be an accidental coincidence. Defoe must have meant that the ‘true-born Englishman’ could not live in England during the years while the Stuarts reigned. Robinson Crusoe was a ruler himself on his own island, and was never the subject of Charles II. or James II.”
Macaulay in the Role of a Pickpocket
In clever sketches of social life in Rome, Mr. T. Adolphus Trollope repeats a story that was told during “A Moonlight Visit to the Coliseum,” showing how Lord Macaulay had once robbed a man there of his watch. One night, while strolling under the dark arches, all of a sudden a man in a large cloak brushed past him rather rudely, as Macaulay thought, and passed on into the darkness. Macaulay’s first impulse was to clasp his hand to his watch-pocket; and sure enough he found that his watch was not there. He looked after the man, who he doubted not had stolen his watch as he brushed past him, and peering into the darkness could just distinguish the outline of a figure moving farther away. Macaulay without the loss of a second rushed after him, overtook him, and seizing him by the collar demanded his watch. Macaulay could at that time speak very little Italian, and understood none when spoken. So he was obliged to limit his attack on the thief to a violent shaking of him by the collar and an angry repetition of the demand, “Orologio! orologio!” The man thus attacked poured forth a torrent of rapidly-spoken words, of which Macaulay understood not one syllable. But he again administered a severe shaking to his captive, stamping his foot angrily on the ground, and again vociferating “Orologio! orologio!” Whereupon the detected thief drew forth a watch and handed it to his captor. Macaulay, satisfied with his prowess in having thus recaptured his property, and not caring for the trouble of pursuing the matter any further, turned on his heel as he pocketed the watch, and saw nothing more of the man. But when he returned to his apartment at night, his landlady met him at the door, holding out something in her hand, and saying, “Oh, sir, you left your watch on the table, so I thought it better to take care of it. Here it is.” “Good gracious! What is this, then? What is the meaning of it?” stammered Macaulay, drawing from his pocket the watch he had so gallantly recovered in the Coliseum. It was a watch he had never seen before. The truth was plain: he had been the thief! The poor man he had so violently attacked and apostrophized in the darkness and solitude of the Coliseum arches had been terrified into surrendering his own watch to the resolute ruffian who, as he conceived, had pursued him to rob him. The next morning Macaulay, not a little crestfallen, hastened to the office of the questor with the watch and told his story. “Ah, I see,” said the questor; “you had better leave the watch with me. I will make your excuses to the owner of it; he has already been here to denounce you.”