PASSING NOTES.

Otago Witness, Issue 1810, 30 July 1886, Page 21

PASSING NOTES.

Becky Sharp, somewhere towards the end of her interesting bub unedifying career, expressed the opinion that she could have been a good • woman on au income of £2000 a year. An assured income of £2000 a year, say from the Three per Cents, represented, for Becky, that juste milieu between poverty and riches desiderated by the ancieiit sage, who feared that if rich, he should wax fat and kick, like Jeshuron, and that if poor he should steal. Becky and the ancient sage were right. One can be vicious on any iucome that you like to name, varying from the zero or minus quantity of a Dunediu " unemployed " up to the vlus infinity of an American billionaire, bub to be virtuous — easily, gracefully virtuous, giveme, I repeat, the juste milieu— say again £2000 per annum, paid quarterly m advance ! Divines may preach as they like about the blessings of adversity, but it could be proved from a hundred examples just now that hard times are not propitious to commercial morality. More kerosene lamps explode during hard times than during good times ; more rats gnaw more lucif er matches ; more steamers run into lighthouses ; more corn-ricks flame skywards m spontaneous combustion. These are facts that all insurance companies know well. In hard times the most conscientious storekeeper may find himself, or by someone else be found, inadvertently giving short measure ; weighbridges aro variable as the shade by the light quivering aspen made ; a ton of anything may shrink to 18cwt 3qrs ; the subscriber to charitable institutions may cheat the poor. These are the mere natural phenemena of " depression ; " — why do we make an outcry about them ? The cure? oh, yes, I can indicate the cure, but it is like prescribing port wine and carriage exercise for a s;ick " unemployed." Rcc'tye-' A further 20 per cent advance on wool; 2d per pound, ditto, frozen i mutton ; wheat and oats, ditto, m proportion ;

a goldfield on Flagstaff Hill, and half-a-dozen petroleum wells on the Flat — that, m brief, would be my prescription for a restoration of public morals. Why, it stands to reason. S pose, for instance, that Major Steward had been m assured possession of Becky Sharp's £2000 a-year, paid m advance, would it ever have become necessary, think you, for Sir Julius to describe the major to the House as " not a philanthropist ? " One hardly sees, a priori, why the occupation of a grocer should be more trying to the moral sentiment than that of any other tradesman say a coal merchant's. Public opinion is often unintelligent on such matters, easily warped, misled by appearances. There is something m the way m which an accomplished grocer can. weigh a pound of currants— keeping the scale oscillating whilst he dips a pinch out, throws half of it back, and then suddenly, and with conviction, sweeping the whole into the ready paper bag— there is something m all this harassing to the mind of the buyer, who feels that such swift dexterity m a matter so vital to his interests is out of place. Then we are apt to think unkindly of grocers on the subject of butter, and also of eggs, even though the latter have come commended as " our own selected." But let us clear our minds of prejudice; There are grocers, doubtless, who are tho soul of honour. I have known one such; he used to present me, at uncertain intervals, with a handsome junk of Ruby twist tobacco. Excellent man !— he has long since gone where good grocers go ! The Dunedin grocers as a whole are as respectable every whit as auy other tradesmen m these demoralising times. A hundred years ago the public suspicion of grocers may have been better founded A friend hands to me an extract from a book entitled "Border Ballads, by J.Robinson"— book certainly unknown to Mr A. Wilson — bearing the imprint " Newcastle, a.d. 1786." The extract, which I give below with the Newcastle printer's italics and capitals, just as he uses them, is rather curious m form and subject for a " Border Ballad." I reproduce it apropos of nothing m particular— certainly not of anything just now m the public mmd — (nothing further from my thoughts !) It may be read, as the French say, aprojios cles bottes : — • \ Nipweight, a grocer of the chosen few, At night from shop and worldly cares withdrew, And having, for his Soul's Edification, A chapter pored through irom the Revelation, He closed the Book, unspectacled his nose, And, calling to his Prentice, as lie rose : " Have you thecurrants treacled well. Good John?" " Yes sir." " The sugars floured too ?" " 'Tisdone." " Tobacco wet ?" " / have." ' Then come upstairs. And, like good Christians, let us go to Prayers ! " We are naturally loth to charge the London correspondent of any colonial paper with romancing, — especially one who discourses so soundly and solidly of current events as does the Daily Times' correspondent. . Still it must be frankly confessed that the stories of the carryings on of certain distinguished colonists m the halls of the British aristocracy read very like fables. Moreover, the occasion is peculiarly templing to any flaneur with a fancy a little rusty for want of exercise. It would be strange if a few stories of glaring solecisms could not be raised among the ship-loads of colonists of all sorts and conditions at present privileged to inspect the interior of baronial halls, and discuss baronial luncheons. But, all this duly considered it would be a pity to reject these piquant anecdotes if we can by anj r possibility give them credence, and I think — looking at them rightly — we can. The story of the distinguished colonist who journeyed down to stay from Saturday till Monday at Lord Charles Beresford's place with his luggage enveloped m a check handkerchief,may, for example, be assimilated if wo take it gradually. This gentleman had his motives. He no doubt possessed a Gladstone bag — new and shiny, but purposely reframed from dazzling his host therewith. Ho reasoned sagely as to the manner of man he was going forth to see. No drawing-room dawdler, but a practical young man, bullet headed perchance. A bluff sailor who cut out gun boats and "knocked out : ' prize- fighters. He would emulate tho bliuitness and engaging disregard of ceremony exhibited by Lord Charles on more than one occasion. He would run down m the character of the typical cclomst, — the kangaroo - catcher and gumsucker — taking with him merely a euchre-pac-k and a plug of tobacco, wrapped m a check handkerchief as aforesaid. In this way we may feebly theorise as to the conduct of Lord Beresford's guest, but the behaviour of the " job lot " of colonists entertained by Sir Thomas Brassey at Normanhurst, is somewhat more difficult to account for. These visitors, one hundred and fifty strong, appraised their host's lectures, and subsequently, when strolling m the ground, placed a ladder against one of the windows, mounted it m turn, and adjured the footmen within to "hurry up the luncheon."' The most feasible explanation of this is that our friends being m great numbers, like Easter Monday excursionists to Rosherville Gardens, behaved for the nonce like Easter Monday excursionists, and forgot the proprieties. They were hungry besides, and found the sea "air exhilarating. As regards the gentleman who, at a later stage, danced a breakdowu upon Sir Thomas Brassey's billiard table, I own I am somewhat at a loss to find an excuse. In his case it was not the sea air but something else, and we must delicately refrain from probing the subject. With all my freely -express™! admiration for the Australian cricketers I cannot blind myself to tho little weaknesses of their supporters. They are amiable weaknesses, no doubt — tho result of sheer enthusiasm for the cause, — but mildly reprehensible, for all that. In reading the accounts published m tho leading Australian papers, one is repeatedly brought face to face with what I will inoffensively totm the enthusiasm of the writer. Win or lose the Australians,

honest fellows, do no wrong, and only come to very partial grief under the heaviest defeat. They may individually be caught, bowled, or run out, but never discomfited, while the English unfortunates, even when victorious, have eaten much dirt. An extract from the Argus correspondent's account of the match against the Gentlemen will illustrate my meaning : — The Gentlemen went m to bat at 5 minutes past 12, Spofforth and Palmer being the bowlers, and Grace and Rock starting the batting. When the score was only 8 Spofforth entirely beat Grace and bowled him. Reid came m and made 13 m very fair form, when m playing forward at Palmer he was beaten and bowled, the ball hitting the wickets just below the bails. Roller joined Rock, but only to be altogether beaten by a " yorker." . None of the Englishmen, it will be seen, were straightforwardly bowled. The Australian trundlers first went through the ceremony of beating them, and then, m what I apprehend is choice sporting phraseology, "shattered their timber." Glancing down the record of the Australians' innings, I find that not one was " beaten " by,an English bowler. Trumble and Bruce were caught and bowled, Jarvis was bowled, &c, but not beaten, and these batsmen presumably sought the pavillion with a lofty crest and flashing eye, very different from the mien of Messrs Grace, Reid, and Roller a few hours previously. The Australians are continuing an old English virtue m not knowing when they are beaten, and they add to it the advantage of knowing very well when their opponents are. Advance Australia! The Shakespeare-Bacon controversy suddenly exhibits a new and most portentous phase. A month ago the dispute seemed, by its very nature, bottomless — a meet theme for those leisured dialecticians who, m Milton's Inferno, sit apart to reason high — Of Providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fixed fate, freewill, foreknowledge absolute, And find no end, iv wandering mazes lost! Now all is changed. A Mr Ignatius Donnelly, of Hastings, Minnesota, announces through Mr Percy M. Wallace, and the "Nineteenth Century," that he has found the end — end definite, authentic, indubitable — to wit, a declaration by Francis Bacon himself, cipher-written, inter woven with infinite art m the very texture of the plays, that he, F. 8., and not the Swan of Avon, is their author. Details are awanting, Mr Ignatius Donnelly keeping, for the present, the secret of the cipher locked up m his own bosom. The following hint of its method and plan is, however, suggestive : — " I found that m many cases where some remarkable word, such as 'St Albans ' or ♦ Bacon,' is m the text, that word is reached by multiplying the number of the page at which the scene begins by the number of italic words m the first column of that page." Evidently Mr Donnelly's ingenious labours must have been inspired by hints supplied from Poe's " Golden Beetle." But note the words which I have taken the liberty to italicise. The cipher arithmetic holds good "m many cases ; '" not m all, then ? Moreover, the datum and starting point for the count is " some remarkable word." Conveniently vague, that, I fancy. Seems to me that with factors so manageable as these I could do a cryptographic sum which should prove that Shakespeare was John Knox, or — for the matter of that — Queen Elizabeth. However, Mr Donnelly promises to make a clean breast of it shortly, and then we shall see. At present the alternative he offers us may be stated thus : — Either Mr Ignatius Donnelly, of Hastings, Minnesota, is a compound of fool and knave, or Francis Bacon wrote the plays of Shakespeare. Cornered for impalement on one or other horn of this dilemma, I accept the first. It is likely to prove the softer ! Suppose — what is all but unsupposable — that the Donnelly discovery should succeed m getting itself verified, certain dire and distressful consequences would follow, one of which is hinted at m the communication given below. The Shakespeare busts and portraits — with what ■ self-respect should we ever look upon them again ? How the crit'es, small and great, have raved about that 7narvellous dome of thought, the Shakesperian bald-head ! What fire of genius scintillated from those Shakesperian gooseberry eyes ! Take, as example of the kind of thing that has been common, a sentence from an article m the May " Fortnightly," by "Lucus Malet," on that quintessential philosophic prig, Henri-Frederic Amiel : — " His (Ainicl's) head reminded one, m height and purity of curve, of the head of Shakespeare," but lacked " the glorious audacity and robustness of tho poet's eyo«." On the Donnelly theory we should probably be required to explain Shakespeare's height of forehead by hydrocepbalus, and the" glorious audicity "of his eyes by drink. Rather than that, would not swift and final suppression of Donnelly be preferable — say beneath a feather-bed ? But I make room for my correspondent : To the Honoured Oivis : — Mr Irving tells a good story that when he and J. L. Toole were on tour and visited Strat-ford-on-Avon no re.i Went there could tell either of them where Shakespeare used once to live. So they waylaid ii lot of boys coming out of school, fondly hoping tiiat the boys might know something about Shakespeare. Said Henry the tragedian to them : " Does 1 any one of you know what Shakespeare wrote ? " And the boys maintained ;i dead silence for a space, until one of them saul as how ho had heard Mr Shakespeare wrote either the Bible or the Family Herald, but he wasn't quite clear which. It seems to be certain that the divine Williams, with his head the shape of an egg with the big end unjierniost, is :i fraud — a most gigantic fraud. Mr Donnelly, of Hastings, Minnesota, is settling that question for us : he has discovered that Bacon wrote the plays to cloke a cipher, which deciphe e 1 disclose; the whole of Bacon's troubles, adventures, risks, and revenges. Vide the "Nineteenth Century" of May last. This news was " bust " to the Dunedin Savage Club on Monday evening, m appropriate toncs,by Mr Powell, who invited the Savages to

look into the matter at length. The first simple desideratum is the folio of 1623 (marked F.). The only full accessible copy I know anything about was m the library of the Reform Club, Pall Mall, which is, I believe, iv London. If a hansom will take me there for money, I shall begin " looking into the matter " sine mora, otherwise, alas, must remain a Savage unenlightened and (provisionally) A Shakespbauian. A correspondent at Macraes sends me a page of the Tablet (date, June 19th) containing a sentence m which, as he remarks, " the Cardinal and the Escaped Nun agree m their testimony." The paper came to him, he explains, as the wrappage of a parcel from a store ; but that is a detail. I have occasionally seen, with sorrow, the Passing Note page of the Witness m ambiguous situations ; — let us pass on. The fragment of the Tablet contains, I find, a speech by Cardinal Moran entitled "Be not ashamed of the Catholic Church," delivered m Sydney to the Hibernian Society. A speech "so beautiful and so touching," says the reporter, that it " elicited loud and thrilling cheers." In it I find the following remarkable sentence: — " Every human society contains within itself the seed of corruption and the germ of ultimate decay ; the Catholic Church alone has the seal of immorality upon her brow. — (Cheers.) " That wretched printer, again, of course ! But it must have been a Protestant printer — probably an Orangeman, or even a Plymouth Brother. The Tablet ought really to look more closely after the theological opinions of its staff. Civjs.