for then the drenched feathers, sticking close to the skin, give the poor things a lean and miserable appearance.
It is an ill bird that fouls its own nest.
He was scant o' news that tauld his feyther was hangit.—Scotch.
They're scarce of news that speak ill of their mother.—Ulster.
Why wantonly proclaim one's own disgrace, or expose the faults or weaknesses of one's kindred or people? "If you have lost your nose put your hand before the place" (Italian).[410] Napoleon I. used to say, "People should wash their foul linen in private." It is a necessary process, but there is no need to obtrude it on public notice. English writers often quote this maxim of the great emperor, but always mistranslate it. Il faut laver son linge sale en famille is one of those idiomatic phrases which cannot be perfectly rendered in another tongue. Our version of it comes near to its meaning, which is quite lost in that which is commonly given, "People should wash their foul linen at home." The point of the proverb lies in the privacy it enjoins, and this might equally be secured whether the linen was washed at home or sent away to the laundress's. En famille and at home are not mutually equivalent; the former means more than the latter. We may say of a man who entertains a large dinner party in his own house, that he dines at home, but not that he dines en famille.
No one knows where the shoe pinches so well as he that wears it.
I wot weel where my ain shoe binds me.—Scotch.
Erskine used to say that when the hour came that all secrets should be revealed we should know the reason why—shoes are always too tight. The authorship of this proverb is commonly ascribed to Æmilius Paulus; but the story told by Plutarch leaves it doubtful whether Æmilius used a known illustration or invented one. The relations of his wife remonstrated with him on his determination to repudiate her, she being an honourable matron, against whom no fault could be alleged. Æmilius admitted the lady's worth; but, pointing to one of his shoes, he asked the remonstrants what they thought of it. They thought it a handsome, well-fitting shoe. "But none of you," he rejoined, "can tell where it pinches me."
The heart knoweth its own bitterness.—Solomon.
"To every one his own cross seems heaviest" (Italian);[411] but "The burden is light on the shoulders of another" (Russian); and "One does not feel three hundred blows on another's back" (Servian). "Another's care hangs by a hair" (Spanish).[412] "Another's woe is a dream" (French).[413] Rochefoucauld has had the credit of saying, "We all have fortitude enough to endure the woes of others;" but it is plain from this and other examples that he was not the sole author of "Rochefoucauld's Maxims."
"The case is altered," quoth Plowden.
Edmund Plowden, an eminent lawyer in Queen Elizabeth's time, was asked by a neighbour what remedy there was in law against the owner of some hogs that had trespassed on the inquirer's ground. Plowden answered he might have very good remedy. "Marry, then," said the other, "the hogs are your own." "Nay, then, neighbour, the case is altered," quoth Plowden. Others, says Ray, with more probability make this the original of the proverb:—"Plowden being a Roman Catholic, some neighbours of his who bare him no good-will, intending to entrap him and bring him under the lash of the law, had taken care to dress up an altar in a certain place, and provided a layman in a priest's habit, who should say mass there at such a time. And, withal, notice thereof was given privately to Mr. Plowden, who thereupon went and was present at the mass. For this he was presently accused and indicted. He at first stands upon his defence, and would not acknowledge the thing. Witnesses are produced, and among the rest one who deposed that he himself performed the mass, and saw Mr. Plowden there. Saith Plowden to him, 'Art thou a priest, then?' The fellow replied, 'No.' 'Why, then, gentlemen,' quoth he, 'the case is altered: no priest, no mass,' which came to be a proverb, and continues still in Shropshire with this addition—'The case is altered,' quoth Plowden: 'no priest, no mass.'"
That's Hackerton's cow.