Notes and Queries, Number 179, April 2, 1853.

    J. C. M.

Spetisbury.

ST. AUGUSTIN AND BAXTER

I am not aware that any author has pointed out a remarkable coincidence in the Confessions of St. Augustin and of Baxter:

"Divers sins I was addicted to, and oft committed against my conscience, which, for the warning of others, I will here confess to my shame. I was much addicted to the excessive and gluttonous eating of apples and pears, which, I think, laid the foundation of the imbecility and flatulency of my stomach.... To this end, and to concur with naughty boys that gloried in evil, I have oft gone into other men's orchards and stolen the fruit, when I had enough at home.... These were my sins in my childhood, as to which conscience troubled me for a great while before they were overcome."

Sir W. Scott cites the above passages in his Life of Dryden, with sharp comments on the rigid scruples of the Puritans:

"How is it possible," he says, "to forgive Baxter for the affectation with which he records the enormities of his childhood?… Can any one read this confession without thinking of Tartuffe, who subjected himself to penance for killing a flea with too much anger?…"

It probably did not occur to the biographer, that no less illustrious a saint than Augustin, to whom Puritanism can hardly be imputed, had made a parallel confession of like early depravity many centuries before. Enlarging on his own puerile delinquencies, and indeed on the wickedness of children in general, he confesses that, in company with other "naughty boys" ("nequissimi adolescentuli"), he not only stole apples, but stole them for the mere pleasure of the thing, and when he "had enough at home":

"Id furatus sum quod mihi abundabat, et multo melius. Nec eâ re volebam frui quam furto appetebam; sed ipso furto et peccato. Arbor erat pirus in viciniâ vineæ nostræ pomis onusta, nec formâ nec sapore illecebrosis. Ad hanc excutiendam atque asportandam, nequissimi adolescentuli perreximus nocte intempestâ; et abstulimus inde onera ingentia, non ad nostras epulas, sed vel projicienda porcis, etiamsi aliquid inde comedimus.... Ecce cor meum, Deus meus, ecce cor meum, quod miseratus es in imo abyssi!"—Confessionum, lib. ii. cap. iv.

In comparing the two cases, the balance of juvenile depravity is very much against the great Doctor of Grace. He does not seem to have had even a fondness for fruit to plead in extenuation of his larceny. He robbed orchards by wholesale of apples, which, by his own admission, had no attractions either of form or flavour to tempt him. Yet the two anecdotes are so much alike, that one would be inclined to suspect one story of being a mere recoction of the other if it were possible to doubt the veracity of Richard Baxter.

The incident, however, is one too familiar in schoolboy life to make the repetition of the story a matter of surprise. The property in an apple growing within the reach of a boy's hand has from time immemorial been in peril, and the law itself has not always regarded it as an object of scrupulous protection. The old laws of the Rheingau, and (if I mistake not) of some other states, warranted a wayfaring man in picking apples from any tree, provided he did not exceed the number of three.

    E. Smirke.

FOLK LORE

Subterranean Bells (Vol. vii., pp. 128. 200.).—In answer to J. J. S.'s inquiry, I beg to state, that at Crosmere, near Ellesmere, Shropshire, where there is one of a number of pretty lakes scattered throughout that district, there is a tradition of a chapel having formerly stood on the banks of the lake. And it is said that the belief once was, that whenever the waters were ruffled by wind, the chapel bells might be heard as singing beneath the surface. This, though bearing on the subject of "submarine" or "subaqueous," rather than "subterranean" bells, illustrates, I think, the tradition to which J. J. S. refers.

    J. W. M.

Hordley, Ellesmere.

Welsh Legend of the Redbreast.—According to my old nurse (a Carmarthenshire woman), the redbreast, like Prometheus, is the victim φιλανθρώπου τρόπου . Not only the babes in the wood, but mankind at large, are indebted to these deserving favourites. How could any child help regarding with grateful veneration the little bird with bosom red, when assured—

"That far, far, far away is a land of woe, darkness, spirits of evil, and fire. Day by day does the little bird bear in his bill a drop of water to quench the flame. So near to the burning stream does he fly, that his dear little feathers are scorched: and hence he is named Bron-rhuddyn.[5 - Bron-rhuddyn = "breast-burnt," or "breast-scorched."] To serve little children, the robin dares approach the Infernal Pit. No good child will hurt the devoted benefactor of man. The robin returns from the land of fire, and therefore he feels the cold of winter far more than his brother birds. He shivers in the brumal blast; hungry, he chirps before your door. Oh! my child, then, in gratitude throw a few crumbs to poor red-breast."

Why, a Pythagorean would have eaten a peacock sooner than one of us would have injured a robin.

    R. P.

JOHNSONIANA

I inclose you a transcript of a letter of Boswell's which I think worthy of being permanently recorded, and am not aware of its having been before in print.

Edinburgh, 11th April, 1774.

Dear Sir,

When Mr. Johnson and I arrived at Inveraray after our expedition to the Hebrides, and there for the first time after many days renewed our enjoyment of the luxuries of civilised life, one of the most elegant that I could wish to find was lying for me, a letter from Mr. Garrick. It was a pineapple of the finest flavour, which had a high zest indeed amongst the heath-covered mountains of Scotia. That I have not thanked you for it long ere now is one of those strange facts for which it is so difficult to account, that I shall not attempt it. The Idler has strongly expressed many of the wonderful effects of the vis inertiæ of the human mind. But it is hardly credible that a man should have the warmest regard for his friend, a constant desire to show it, and a keen ambition for a frequent epistolary intercourse with him, and yet should let months roll on without having resolution, or activity, or power, or whatever it be, to write a few lines. A man in such a situation is somewhat like Tantalus reversed. He recedes, he knows not how, from what he loves, which is full as provoking as when what he loves recedes from him. That my complaint is not a peculiar fancy, but deep in human nature, I appeal to the authority of St. Paul, who though he had not been exalted to the dignity of an apostle, would have stood high in fame as a philosopher and orator, "What I would that do I not." You need be under no concern as to your debt to me for the book which I purchased for you. It was long ago discharged; for believe me, I intended the book as a present. Or if you rather chuse that it should be held as an exchange with the epitaphs which you sent me, I have no objection. Dr. Goldsmith's death would affect all the club much. I have not been so much affected with any event that has happened of a long time. I wish you would give me, who am at a distance, and who cannot get to London this spring, some particulars with regards to his last appearances. Dr. Young has a fine thought to this purpose, that every friend who goes before us to the other side of the river of death, makes the passage to us the easier. Were our club all removed to a future world but one or two, they, one should think, would incline to follow. By all means let me be on your list of subscribers to Mr. Morrell's Prometheus. You have enlivened the town, I see, with a musical piece. The prologue is admirably fancied arripere populum tributim; though, to be sure, Foote's remark applies to it, that your prologues have a culinary turn, and that therefore the motto to your collection of them should be, Animus jamdudum in Patinis. A player upon words might answer him, "Any Patinis rather than your Piety in Pattens." I wonder the wags have not been quoting upon you, "Whose erudition is a Christmas tale." But Mr. Johnson is ready to bruise any one who calls in question your classical knowledge and your happy application of it. I hope Mr. Johnson has given you an entertaining account of his Northern Tour. He is certainly to favour the world with some of his remarks. Pray do not fail to quicken him by word as I do by letter. Posterity will be the more obliged to his friends the more that they can prevail with him to write. With best compliments to Mrs. Garrick, and hoping that you will not punish me by being long silent, I remain faithfully yours,

    James Boswell.

To David Garrick, Esq.,

Adelphi, London.

    W. P.

Minor Notes

White Roses.—In an old newspaper, The Weekly Journal, or British Gazetteer, of Saturday, June 15, 1723, I find the following paragraph:

"Monday being the anniversary of the White Roses, some persons who had a mind to boast that they had bid defiance to the government, put them on early in the morning; but the mob not liking such doings, gathered about them, and demolished the wearers; which so terrified the crew, that not one of them afterwards would touch a white rose."

Can you, or any of your correspondents, explain this curious allusion? Is it to the emblem of the House of York, or the badge of the Pretender?

    E. G. B.

Fifeshire Pronunciation.—I have observed, in various parts of Fifeshire, a singular peculiarity in the pronunciation of certain words, of which the following are specimens:

This strange mode is not altogether confined to the most illiterate portion of the people. My query is, Does this peculiarity obtain in any other portion of Scotland?

    A. R. X.

Paisley.

Original Letter.—The following letter, written by the French general at Guadaloupe, when it was taken in 1810, to his conqueror, is an exquisite specimen of something more than that national politeness which does not desert a Frenchman even in misfortune. I possess the original:

    Au quartier général du Parc,
    le 6 Février, 1810.      

A son Excellence

Le Général Beckwith, Commandant en chef les forces de sa Majesté Britannique aux isles du Vent.

Monsieur le Général,

J'ai été prévenu que Votre Excellence se proposait de venir au Parc demain dans la matinée. J'ose espérer qu'elle voudra bien me faire l'honneur d'accepter le diner que lui offre un Général malheureux et vaincu, mais qu'il présente de tout cœur.

Daignez, Monsieur le Général, agréer l'assurance de la haute considération avec laquelle

    J'ai l'honneur d'être,
    de votre Excellence,
    Le très-obéissant serviteur,
    Emouf.
    Edward Foss.

Erroneous Forms of Speech.—Since you allow your correspondents to correct such words as teetotal, I hope you will allow me to call the attention of your agricultural readers to the corruption in the word mangold, as they now write it. The word is in German mangel wurzel, root of scarcity. It is wrong to use even such a name as this, in my opinion, while we have the English name beet, which has the additional advantage of being derived from the botanical name Beta. But if a new name must be used, let it, at any rate, be the pure German mangel, and not the mongrel mangold. Indeed, those who spell the word in the latter way, ought in common consistency to write reddishes,sparrowgrass, and cowcumbers for radishes, asparagus, and cucumbers.