Notes and Queries, Number 77, April 19, 1851. Various
self-withdrawn, into a wondrous depth,
Far sinking into splendour—without end?"
The two following extracts are from private letters now before me. The first account was written in 1825 by a physician, still alive, and who at the time read an account of what he had seen at a meeting of the Plinian Society. He says,
"I last evening read a paper upon an extraordinary appearance of letters, formed by the clouds, seen by a Mr. T. and myself. We had also with us two little boys, one nine, the other eleven years of age, who were able to make out each letter equally with ourselves. These children were at the time walking some distance behind us: but, upon their coming up, and being shown the letters, they read them without having heard any observation of ours respecting them. We saw them for about two minutes, when they gradually changed their form—each letter changing its perpendicular for a horizontal position, and at length the whole becoming converted into that form of cloud denominated cirro-stratus. I will endeavour to give you a faint idea of the appearance, by forming the letters as well as my memory will enable me. I make no comment upon the words themselves, as they are too extraordinary for observation of any kind. It was upon the 12th of last month: several showers had fallen in the course of the day, but the afternoon was fine. The time seven in the evening. The letters were formed upon a fine blue surface, having no other clouds near them, except very small ones, which tended much to heighten the effect of the whole.
"You will observe several deficiencies in the letters of the first word, viz. in the first 'E;' also in the 'N,' the second part being short; and a slight defect in the letter 'A.' With respect to the second word, the first six letters were very perfect: the others, with the exception of the 'M,' mere strokes; but in number sufficient to make up the word: and they had the appearance of having been perfect. I can assure you they were anything but obscure, and required very little stretch of the imagination. In the first word the letters were equidistant and beautifully uniform. The second word was not quite straight, being curved towards its termination. This appeared to me to arise from the change of position which the letters were undergoing, as before stated."
My other extract is from a letter written in 1851. The scene to which it refers is a sick chamber occupied by an octogenarian grandmother, who is in extremis. Her daughter, who writes the account, is present, together with a grandchild, who is nearly eleven years old. The nurse has left the room.
"We afterwards stood by poor grandmamma's fire, and then we sat at her window to see the moon rise. There were many clouds about it, and directly under it was the most marked figure of our Saviour on the cross. The head was concealed in light, but the arms were outstretched, and the body quite distinct. M. saw it too, and said, 'How appropriate, aunt, for the beginning of Lent!' She has never alluded to it since, nor, of course, have I; nor do I think any more of it, than that there it was: and there is something happy in the fancy, at all events, for it shone on her dying bed."
As you admit folk lore into "Notes and Queries," also well-attested anecdotes, although these may not absolutely conduce to the advancement of learning or art, perhaps you will receive this paper for the amusement of those who, like myself, feel an interest in anything which takes us a little out of the hardware facts of "the age we live in."
Ecclesfield.
"AFTER ME THE DELUGE."
If stolen wisdom could be returned to its rightful authors, great, indeed, would be the transfer of property. Prince Metternich is said to be the sayer of "After me the Deluge." And yet the Prince took the saying from the mouth of Madame Pompadour; and she took it—from whom? It may be reasonably doubted that her brain originated it; for it was not an order of brain that packs wisdom in few syllables.
"'After me the Deluge,' said Prince Metternich; a fine saying, but a false prophecy we trust."
I quote this from an admirable paper in The Times of to-day (April 10.) on the Crystal Palace, and quote the subscribed from an Essai sur la Marquise de Pompadour, prefixed to the Mémoires de Madame du Hausset, Femme de Chambre de Madame Pompadour, in Barrière's Bibliothèque des Mémoires.
"Madame de Pompadour, dans l'ivresse de la prospérité, répondit à toutes les menaces de l'avenir par ces trois [quatre] mots, "Après nous, le Déluge," qu'elle répétait souvent."
In this case, "Pompadour v. Metternich," surely a verdict must be returned for the lady, unless Voltaire puts in a future claim.
West Lodge, Putney Common.
BISHOP THORNBOROUGH'S MONUMENT
[The writer of the following interesting communication does not appear to be aware that he is obliging us and a correspondent D. Y., who had asked (Vol. iii., p. 168.) for an explanation of the phrase Denarius Philosophorum, in the Bishop's Monument.]
Our local antiquaries have long been puzzled by an inscription in the Lady chapel of our cathedral. It stands on the monument of Bishop Thornborough, and was prepared by himself fourteen years before his decease in 1641, at the age of ninety-four. He was addicted to alchymy, and published a book in 1621, entitled Λιθοθεωρικος, sive, Nihil aliquid, omnia, &c. In the course of some recent studies in the Pythagorean philosophy, my attention was accidentally engaged by this inscription; and it at once struck me that it was thence that the explanation was to be derived. The epitaph is as follows: on one side,
"Denarius Philosophorum, Dum Spiro, Spero."
on the other,
"In Uno, 2o. 3o. 4or 10. non Spirans Sperabo."
The latter letters are now effaced.
It is well known that the Pythagoreans found all the modes of space in the relations of numbers.
The monad, or unit, was not only the point whence all extension proceeds, but it further symbolised the First Principle, the origin of all. The duad represented the line, as being bounded by two points or monads. The triad stood for surface as length and width. The tetrad for the perfect figure, the cube, length, depth, and width. The decad, or denarius, indicated comprehensively all being, material and immaterial, in the utmost perfection: hence the term decas, or denarius, was used summarily for the whole science of numbers, as in the title of Meursius's tract De Denario Pythagorico, which was published four years after the date of the inscription, and when the philosophy was attracting much attention among European scholars. To be as concise as possible then, I presume that the old bishop intended that the tomb on which his effigy lies was his access to that perfection of existence which philosophers had designated by the decas, or denarius. During the present life he was hoping for it, "Dum Spiro, Spero."—On the other side: "In Him, who is the source, the beginning, the middle, and the end of all existence and perfection (in Uno, 2o. 3o. 4or 10. non Spirans Sperabo), though I breathe no more, yet shall I hope."
Such is probably the meaning of his pious conceit, and I offer it as a solution of what has long served for a riddle to the visitors of our cathedral. Beyond this, your readers and myself may be equally indifferent to such cabalistical quaintness. But let us treat it with charity, as the devout consummation of an aged alchymist.
College Green, Worcester, March, 1851.
Minor Notes
King Richard III. (Vol. iii., p. 221.).—On the 14th May, 1491 (6 Henry VII.), one Master William Burton, the schoolmaster of St. Leonard's Hospital, in the city of York, was accused before the magistrates of having said that "King Richard was an hypocrite, a crocheback, and buried in a dike like a dog." This circumstance is recorded in a contemporary document of unquestionable authenticity (vide extracts from York