Once a Week (magazine)/Series 3/Volume 7/Table Talk 1.21.1871

MARSHAL PRIM, the Spanish Kingmaker, whose adventurous career has been so suddenly cut short by the hand of the assassin, has been laid to rest, with much pomp and ceremony, in the church of the Atocha, at Madrid. Some few notes en passant may not be out of place as to this famous shrine. The church or chapel of the Atocha is so called from its containing the celebrated image of that name of the Virgin, the patroness of Madrid, and especial protectress of the royal family, who, before their recent overthrow, always worshipped here every Saturday. This Virgin— which ranks as third in holiness of the many in Spain, and is only preceded by those of Saragossa and Guadaloupe—is the royal mistress of the robes; and the Queen always gives her the dress she wears at the Epiphany. Isabel II. was on her way to this shrine when she was stabbed by Merino. The dress, with the dagger-hole in it, went to swell the wardrobe of the protecting image. In this chapel the royal family is married; and, when a queen is in the case, the wedding dress becomes the property of the Virgin. The origin of the name Atocha is much disputed. Some Spanish prelates contend that the image was graven at Ephesus, a.d. 470, during the Nestorian dispute, and was inscribed Theotocus; from which the name Atocha is said to be derived. According to another authority, it was either carved or, at least, varnished by St. Luke, and certainly was taken by Gregory the Great from Antioch: hence the name of Atocha. Others are positive that St. Peter brought it with him to Spain, and that it was here in the time of the Goths, having been visited by Ildefonso. Again, when the Moors invaded the Castiles, one Garcia Ramirez concealed it so well that he could not find it again; whereupon the image revealed itself in some ballico or rye-grass; or, according to others, in some Atocha or bass-weed.

Even that Jupiter Tonans, the immortal Samuel Johnson, who could crush a too presumptuous disputant with a frown, found critics in his time bold enough to attack him. In a commentary on “the last edition of Shakespeare,” printed in 1783, we find the great Doctor thus appreciated: —“Dr. Johnson is so very imperfectly acquainted with the nature and derivation of the English language—and in that respect his ‘Dictionary' how valuable soever it may be on account of his explanation and use of English words, is beneath contempt, there being scarcely ten words properly deduced in the whole work—that it is no wonder to find him making ninnekin and minx the same word. But minnekin does not mean a nice trifling girl; and, though a substantive, is oftener used adjectively than otherwise. As mankin got changed into minnekin, ‘a little man' so they formed minnekinness, a ‘little woman,' a ‘ girl' which has since, by corruption, become minx. Thus laddess (ladess), from lad, has by a similar process become lass” Imagine the great lexicographer being sent to school again in this fashion! Our Shakspearean commentator, whoever he was—for his name is not given, save as Mr. R.—must have been indeed a bold man.

Nowadays, people grumble because such anachronisms as toll-bridges are permitted to exist at all. What would they have said in the days of our forefathers, when Henry III. ordered all bridges to be repaired, and marks to be set up where rivers might be passed without danger, not for the safety of travellers, but for the convenience of falconry?

Our contemporaries have of late years been impressing on the public the expediency of rendering the endowments of the two sister Universities more generally useful, by enlarging their sphere so as to embrace the poorer classes of students and scientific men without their own pale. The non-collegiate system, now established at both Universities, and Keble College, Oxford— founded expressly for poor men—has silenced the popular outcry on the first score. The University of Cambridge has shown her enlarged views by electing the distinguished Oriental scholar, Dr. Wright—a member of neither University, but who had previously received the honorary degree of LL.D. and an honorary fellowship at Queen's College, Cambridge—to the Professorship of Arabic, though not even a candidate, in the face of two well-known Cambridge Oriental scholars—the Rev. Stanley Leathes, Professor of Arabic at King’s College, London, and Mr. Palmer, Fellow of St. John’s College—and by augmenting the stipend of the professorship from £70 to £300. The President and Fellows of Queen’s College have clenched the matter, and stopped all criticism on the second score—at least, for the present—by electing Dr. Wright to a foundation fellowship, for the purpose of enabling him to resign a more lucrative appointment at the British Museum, to accept the professorship, and to reside permanently at Cambridge.

The following anecdote of the celebrated French mathematician, D’Alembert, has never, so far as we recollect, been published till within the last few months, when it appeared in a letter written by Dr. Jeans, a clergyman, who spent some months in Paris in 1778. “Speaking of M. D’Alembert,” says the writer, “ calls to my mind a conversation of his, in which he spoke with great freedom of the clergy of this country, and of the danger of their intrigues. The subject took its rise from an incident which relates to ourselves, and which one day or another I may be at liberty to relate to you.

From the clergy, the topic naturally turned to superstition; and M. D’Alembert, who is very entertaining, mentioned an instance of the power of this passion on the human mind. He said that, ‘ in a church in Paris, there was a votive altar consecrated to the Virgin by an opera dancer, who, from being a very moderate performer in the chorus dances, attained on a sudden the excellence of the most celebrated man at that time on the stage. This performer, whose agility was not equal to his ambition, heard with envy every applause of the favourite of the public; and, when he found he was incapable of himself to rival his brother performer in his entrechats, bethought him of invoking the assistance of some supernatural power. He fancied his prayers were heard; and gave out that he should dance the first part in the dance then in vogue on such a day. As this was the character of a man so much more able in his profession than he was, everybody laughed at him for a madman. He, however, persisted; and dressed himself on the evening appointed in every respect like the other person whose place he said he was to fill. He renewed his petition to his divinity with a double fervour; and, when the dance began, it is presumed that the Virgin interposed—for his rival sprained his ankle at the first step; upon which he entered and continued the figure in a style rather surpassing the grace and activity of the man who was thought to have no equal.’

In gratitude for the assistance he had received, he dedicated this altar, on which the story is related, and is sincerely believed by many bigots to be true, and as the effect of an implicit belief in the power of miracles.” [The meaning of the last sentence is sufficiently clear, although the reverend gentleman’s grammar is somewhat misty.— Ed .]

Ancient legal documents would not seem to have been so formal or elaborate as the wisdom of more modern days has deemed fit to make them. Take, for instance, King Athelstan’s grant of freedom to the town of Beverley— “Als free make I thee As hart can think, or cigh may see.’’ There is a charming and comprehensive simplicity in this which we defy all modern charters to rival.

Sometimes we hear of the Church of the Future, and we are often told of the Church of the Present; but, from the accounts that have been received of the Rev. Henry Ward Beecher’s Church at Brooklyn, with its handsome gifts and testimonials to its pastor, we think that it deserves to be called the Church of the Presents!

It is curious to observe how the different almanacs—legal, commercial, and others —arrange their record of past events according to the particular lines which they represent. For instance, in the almanac of the Royal Insurance Company for the new year, interesting notes are made of all great fires which have occurred at various times, not only in this country, but in different parts of the world. Will not such a list of casualties make people insure? If not, nothing will.

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