140

WORDS IN AMBUSH.

are at the darkest, and the nerves quiver, the heart may be strong, as one said, "Let my heart be sound in Thy statutes, that I be not ashamed." It will be so when words are carefully ruled and made the signs of truth and soberness, and not, as they are too frequently, the marks of falsehood and folly. “There is as much hold of his word as of a wet eel by the tail;" it is sure, that is, to slip through the fingers-a picture of an untrustworthy man. There are men who seldom speak without a double meaning, to whom all "Speech is a plank of double meanings," who use all their words so that they seem to lurk in ambush for some future opportunity. There are men who can be even true to the word but utterly false to the spirit; such men and their words are like slippery eels; the words are like cunningly contrived nets, they catch the unwary, while their framers are never likely to be caught.

A story is told of a merchant who desired to insure a vessel and its freightage. She had not been heard of for some time; and this, while it was one reason with him for insuring, formed a reason with the broker for caution; he promised, however, to execute the policy, but meanwhile intended to delay it as long as possible for the purpose of inquiry. The merchant had not long left the broker's office before he heard the vessel was lost, and he sent along his clerk to say he had heard of the vessel, and so the policy need not be executed; the other, supposing the vessel had been spoken with, and that all was safe, contrived to shuffle the papers, unseen by the clerk, signed the policy, and handed it to him, saying, "I had executed it." This was exactly what the other wished; and so this pair of slippery eels contrived to dodge round each other.

And foolish words are as much to be reprobated as malignant words. Almost it seems as if some persons must garnish their speech with unmeaning vapidity, must indulge either in blustering oaths or in vacant talk, signifying nothing; perhaps, indeed, in the recording angel's book a good deal of the pious talk of saintly people fares no better than the sinful talk of the wicked ones. Dean Ramsay, in his "Scottish Characteristics," tells the story of some lady who, speaking of a brother much addicted to the shocking habit of swearing in conversation, said, “Our John sweers awfu', and we try to correct him; but," she added, in a candid and apologetic tone, "nae doubt it is a set-off to conversation." And so many, it would seem, have absurdly thought.

In the Diary of Crabbe Robinson there occurs an anecdote of that remarkable preacher and great humorist, the Rev. Robert Robinson of Cambridge. "I met him," said some person in recording the story, "when I was a young man, and when my tone of conversation was that universal among young officers; and I talked in a very free tone with this Mr. Robinson. I did not take him for a clergyman, though he was dressed in black, for he was by no means solemn; on the contrary, he told several droll stories; but there was one very odd thing about him, he continually interlarded his conversation and stories with an exclamation, 'Bottles and corks!' This seemed so strange that I could not help

HAVE LIES SHORT LEGS?

141

at last asking him why he did so, saying they did not improve his story at all. Don't they?' said Mr. Robinson, 'I am glad to know that, for I merely used those words by way of experiment.' 'Experiment,' said I; 'how do you mean that?' 'Why, I will tell you. I rather pride myself on story-telling, and wish to make my stories as good as they can be. Now I observed that you told several pleasant stories, and that you continually made use of such exclamations as "Gd d-n it,” "B-t me," etc., etc. Now I can't use such words, for they are irreverent towards the Almighty, and, I believe, actually sinful; therefore I wanted to try whether I could not find words that would answer the purpose as well, and be quite innocent at the same time.' All this," said the officer, "was said in so good-humoured a tone that I could not possibly take offence, though apt enough to do so. The reproof had an effect on me, and very much contributed to my breaking myself of the habit of profane swearing."

There is a proverb which says, "Lies have short legs;" although Sir James Stephen said he recollected hearing Mr. Wilberforce say, "We talk of the power of truth; I hope it has some power, but I am shocked by the power of falsehood!" And, indeed, although it will appear at last that nothing really survives but truth and rectitude in character and in principle, we perhaps somewhat underrate the power of falsehood. It has power, although its power is usually derived from its relation to or simulation of truth; it can use the implements and instrumentalities of truth for doing its own work; it can play the hypocrite so admirably, that in virtue of this a lie may live long. No doubt at last, as the proverb says, "Lies melt like snow; " but, short-legged as they are, and dissolving as they are, they can run a long way, and, when they melt, sometimes leave very dirty water behind them. Respectability may sometimes do a great deal towards giving currency to a falsehood. The noblest man, perhaps the most unselfish of all those who laboured to destroy the horrid slave-trade, was Thomas Clarkson. He not only laboured with amazing industry and intrepidity, but he devoted large sums of money to the great object of his life and to his benevolent ambition. He earnestly wrought upon and persuaded Wilberforce to adopt the cause of the slave in the House of Commons. Yet when the late Bishop of Winchester and his brother wrote the life of their father, they sought to brighten his reputation, which was quite needless, by representing Thomas Clarkson as the paid agent of men for carrying out that idea of which he indeed was the great originator. In his case a crowd of illustrious friends,friends such as Lord Brougham,-soon rectified this mistake; and, in subsequent editions, the two Wilberforces were compelled to withdraw their attack upon Mr. Clarkson; and, indeed, the allegations could never have had any foundation at all excepting in their own imaginations. Here was a lie with short legs," but some seem to be longer. In Lord Macaulay's "History of England," some characters are effectually and, apparently, immortally blackened; among others, that illustrious character

142

RIGHTEOUS OVERMUCH.

William Penn. By the most incontestable evidence it was proved to Lord Macaulay that the odious charge he brings against Penn, of receiving money to use his Court influence for purchasing off some of the unhappy victims of the great Taunton Assize, upon the sad issue of the Monmouth rebellion, was altogether a false charge. There was a Mr. Penne, but it was a Mr. George Penne; and the distinguished historian, who hated Quakers with a perfect hatred, must have gone to his imagination also for his facts when he attached to so pure and spotless a person as William Penn the well-known delinquencies of Mr. George Penne. But the allegation was never corrected, never can be by Lord Macaulay's fingers; and with every future edition of his renowned " History of England" the shameful libel upon a noble martyr to the cause of truth will go on doing its work. That is rather a solemn proverb, and how many act upon it while so many others have suffered from it, “Throw mud enough, some of it is sure to stick.”

The worst of the matter is, that very often a spirit of falsehood is at last detected beneath a hypocritical veil of seeming righteousness; indeed, as it has often been said, "There would be no forged five-pound notes if the greater number were not good and real," no bad coin if the greater quantity in circulation were not good; so there would be no false and simulated virtue but for the preponderance of the reality and its respectability. Hence comes the proverb, "Be not righteous overmuch;" it is always suspicious. Is it not said, "He cared not for the poor, but he kept the bag"? Concerning this, we will quote at once a proverb and a parable of the Hebrews, from M. Tendlau, the great scholar to whom we have already referred; it puts the popular horror of the over-righteous in its strongest form :

"Don't Crush the Worms."

He had but one

In Portugal there once lived a wealthy aged man. son-handsome, shrewd, well-taught. When he felt his hour draw nigh, he called the youth to him and said, "Listen, my son! I leave thee a fair property in land and money, so that with due economy there is enough for your whole life. One thing only I charge you, to beware of the painted ones—of those who would be over-righteous above what the nature of man permits. Before men they are pious-in their hearts they have seven vices. Again, I say, take heed of the too pious, and it will go well with thee and thine for all time." The father died. The son came to know a maiden, a poor orphan. She pleased him, and he married her. She was thrifty and modest in the sight of men, and they lived happily together for four or five years. One day the young man said to his wife, "Come, let us go into the streets and to the fair, and see what the land furnishes that is beautiful or excellent. I dare say I may buy you some pretty thing." "No," said she, "I will not go to the fair. It might well be that I should cast my eyes on some other man, or be the cause that some other man should cast his eyes on me, and so sin myself,

"DON'T CRUSH THE WORMS."

143

or cause others to sin. No, I will not go." The husband thought to himself, "What, are you also a hypocrite ?" He remembered his father's last words, and went alone. About half a year afterwards he said to her, "I have important business, and must go on a long journey; be so kind as to make ready for me to go." She did so, and the next day he bade her farewell. But no sooner had he ridden a few miles than he turned

back and put up at an inn where he was not known. When it was quite dark, he crept back to his house, and by means of a second key that he had made, let himself in. He surprised her paramour in the house. As soon as she saw him she cried to her lover, "Take your sword and cut the fellow down." But he contrived to escape. He rushed out of the house; but instead of returning to his inn he threw himself down upon the pavement, bowed down with grief, and at last fell asleep. That same night it happened that the king's palace was broken into and some costly jewellery stolen. There was an alarm in the palace, and the king commanded to close the gates and search the town from house to house. His servants hurried through the town, and soon found the wretched husband lying in the street. He was seized and shut up; and as, in spite of the torture, he would not say who he was and how he came to be lying in the street, he was condemned to death. But he thought, "I had rather die than own to my own shame. What is life to me?" He was taken to the place of execution. The king's confessor-a monk of eminence-walked beside him, and pressed him hardly to come into the bosom of the Church before his death, and so to die happy. He remained silent. The procession happened to pass by a dunghill that lay in the road, and round the edge of which worms were crawling. "Go round the dunghill," cried the monk to the executioner, "go round, and don't crush the worms." "Ah!" thought the prisoner, "a hypocrite!" And he forthwith called to the officers, "Stop! I will confess. I and this monk committed the theft together." The monk turned pale, but he was arrested, and together with the prisoner brought back before the king; and his cell was searched and the jewels found in it. Then the prisoner confessed that he had known nothing of the monk, but that when he had seen him so hard to himself and so compassionate to the worms, he had seemed to hear his father's last words again, and had done what he had done. Therefore to the present day people say to hypocrites, to those who kiss their prayer-books and yet walk not honestly, Ei, ei, zertret mer die Wörmcher nit." "Ah! ah! don't crush the worms."

* Sprichwörter und Redensarten deutsch-jüdischer Vorzeit. Von Abraham Tendlau, Frankfurt-ar -am-Main: Keller. 1860.

TH

CONCERNING CATSPAWS.

HE story is a very old one which has made this word, "catspaw,' proverbial and parabolic. In some old time a monkey took a liking and fancy for certain roasting chestnuts; but the difficulty was to get at them, or hold of them, without some injury done to his own paws: but a cat, herself comfortably enjoying the warmth of the fire, suggested to the monkey the possibility of employing her paws for his purposes. Possibly. the story may be true, probably false. True or false, through all ages and in all countries, in ancient and in modern times, the story has found its fulfilment in the history of mankind. The proverb is matched by an older one, "To draw the snake out of the hole with another's hand." The story itself seems an amusing one, and men have been disposed to derive amusement from the mishaps of their fellows; and some of the most entertaining stories in the world have for their burden a kind of rejoicing at the clever and shrewd wit of those who have thereby taken in their neighbours. One of the oldest and most famous books of Germany, "The Marvellous Adventures and Rare Conceits of Master Tylwyth Owlglass," is devoted to this merry view of human nature, as a thing to be played tricks with, cozened, cheated, and imposed upon; and there seem to be multitudes of men in the world who have not attained to any higher conception; and a world of proverbs and parables seem to have this reflection for their moral. Hamlet perceived this, and in one of the most expressive parts of the drama, the poet has represented him as resisting the purpose of Rozencrantz and Guildenstern to use him as a catspaw :

"Ham.-Will you play upon this pipe?

"Guild.-My lord, I cannot.

"Ham.-I pray you

"Guild.-Believe me, I cannot.

"Ham.-I do beseech you.

"Guild.-I know no touch of it, my lord.

"Ham.-"Tis as easy as lying. Govern these ventages with your fingers and thumb, give it breath with your mouth, and it will discourse most excellent music. Look you, these are the stops.

"Guild.-But these cannot I command to any utterance of harmony. I have not the skill.