Entries from October 2005 ↓

From a review of Physiologie des Passions, ou nouvelle Doctrine des Sentimens Moraus; par J. L. Alibert. Chapitre XI. de l’Ennui. Physiology of the Passions; or a New Theory of Moral Sentiments Chap. XI. of Ennui.

That ennui is a principle of action widely diffused, will hardly be denied by any careful observer of human nature. No individual can conscientiously claim to have been always and wholly free from its influences, except where there has been a life springing from the purest sources, sanctified by the early influence of religious motives, and protected from erroneous judgments by the constant exercise of a healthful understanding. For the rest, though few are constantly afflicted with it as an incurable evil, there are still fewer who are not at times made to suffer from its influence. It stretches its heavy hand on the man of business and the recluse; it makes its favourite haunts in the city, but it chases the aspirant after rural felicity, into the scenes of his rural listlessness; it makes the young melancholy, and the aged garrulous; it haunts the sailor and the merchant; it appears to the warrior and to the statesman; it takes its place in the curule chair, and sits also at the frugal board of old fashioned simplicity. You cannot flee from it; you cannot hide from it; it is swifter than the birds of passage, and swifter than the breezes that scatter clouds. It climbs the ship of the restless who long for the suns of Europe; it jumps up behind the horseman who scours the woods of Michigan; it throws its scowling glances on the attempt at present enjoyment; it scares the epicurean from his voluptuousness, and when the ascetic has finished his vow, it compels him once more to repeat the tale of his beads.

To the influence of ennui must be traced the passion for strong excitement. When life has become almost stagnant, when the ordinary course of events has been unable to excite any strong interest, ennui assumes a terrific power over the mind, and clamours for emotion, though that emotion is to be purchased by scenes of horror and of crime. “What a magnificent spectacle,” said the Parisian mob, “how interesting a spectacle to see a woman of the wit and courage of Madame Roland on the scaffold!” And it is precisely the same power, which excites the sensitive admirer of works of fiction to ransack the shelves of a library for works of thrilling and “painful” interest.

To the same kind of restless curiosity we have to ascribe the passionate declamations of the tragic actor, and the splendid music of the opera; the cunning feats of the village conjuror, and the lascivious pantomime of the city ballet-dancers; the disgusting varieties of bull-fights, and the celebrated feats of pugilism; the locomotive zeal of the great pedestrians, and the perfect quiescence of the “pillar saints.”

In consequence of the increasing number of grave-yard desecrations, the genius of the inventor has been incited to devise means for their defeat. Among the most recent patents is one for a coffin torpedo, which consists of a canister containing powder, balls and a firing trigger, so arranged that, on placing the torpedo within the coffin, and finally closing the lid, should any attempt be made to open the coffin the torpedo will be instantly exploded, a noise like thunder ensue, and deadly balls will fly in all directions. Had the remains of the late millionaire, Mr. Steward, been protected by means of this invention, the neighborhood in that part of the city where his body rested would have been alarmed while the robbers themselves would doubtless have suffered sudden death as the penalty of the sacrilegious attempt.–Scientific American

Flowers from a Persian Garden and Other Papers, by W. A. Clouston (1890). A series of somewhat scholarly but enjoyably readable essays on Arabic and other folklore.

Bill and I have talked about this book before. As I was post-processing it, I became intrigued by the references and notes to other works of stories and folklore — so much so that I’m trying to find (in a totally non-systematic way) the books that are mentioned so I can provide them to Project Gutenberg. Up next for DP is A Group of Eastern Romances, and then later The Bakhtyār Nāma.

Go check it out, and you can read more jokes (and other stories, of course) like this:

A man went to a professional scribe and asked him to write a letter for him. The scribe said that he had a pain in his foot. “A pain in your foot!” echoed the man. “I don’t want to send you to any place that you should make such an excuse.” “Very true,” said the scribe; “but, whenever I write a letter for any one, I am always sent for to read it, because no one else can make it out.”

There are four phratries in the tribe, the three gentes Bear, Deer, and Striped Turtle constituting the first; the Highland Turtle, Black Turtle, and Smooth Large Turtle the second; the Hawk, Beaver, and Wolf the third, and the Sea Snake and Porcupine the fourth.

This unit in their organization has a mythologic basis, and is chiefly used for religious purposes, in the preparation of medicines, and in festivals and games.

The eleven gentes, as four phratries, constitute the tribe.

Each gens is a body of consanguineal kindred in the female line, and each gens is allied to other gentes by consanguineal kinship through the male line, and by affinity through marriage.

Mr. Palmer, in his “Anecdotes of Elephants,” relates the following: “A troop of elephants were accustomed to pass a green-stall on their way to water. The woman who kept the stall took a fancy to one of the elephants, and frequently regaled her favorite with greens and fruits, which produced a corresponding attachment on the part of the elephant toward the woman. One day, the group of elephants unfortunately overturned the poor woman’s stall, and in her haste to preserve her goods she forgot her little son, who was in danger of being trampled to death. The favorite elephant perceived the child’s danger, and taking him up gently with his trunk, carefully placing him on the roof of a shed close at hand.”

An amusing anecdote is given by Captain Williamson of an elephant, named ‘Pangal,’ which showed remarkable sagacity. This animal, when on a march, refused to carry on his back a larger load than he thought was right and proper. He would pull down as much of the burden as reduced it to the weight which he conceived it was fair for him to bear. One day the quarter-master of the brigade became enraged at the apparent obstinacy of the animal, and very cruelly threw a tent pin at his head. A few days afterwards, as the elephant was on his way from camp to water he overtook the quarter-master, and, seizing him in his trunk, lifted him into a large tamarind tree, which overhung the road, and left him to cling to the branches, and get down in the best way that he could.

Porus, a king of India, in a battle with Alexander the Great, being severely wounded, fell from the back of his elephant. The Macedonian soldiers, supposing him to be dead, pushed forward in order to despoil of his rich clothes an accoutrements. The noble and faithful elephant, however, standing over the body of its master, boldly repelled every one who dared to approach. And, while the enemy was at bay, took the bleeding monarch up with his trunk, and gently placed him again on his back. The troops of Porus came by this time to his relief, and the king was saved; but the faithful elephant died of the wounds which he received in the heroic defence of his master.

Ludolph says that an elephant was one day ordered to launch a ship. The animal attempted to pull the vessel into the water, but it was beyond its strength. “Take away that lazy beast, and put another in his stead,” cried the angry keeper. The noble animal on hearing this redoubled his efforts, fractured his skull, and fell dead on the spot!

The teacher’s other self.–As she stands thus in contemplation she sees the child grown to maturity with all her own predilections–physical, mental, spiritual–woven into the pattern of its life. In this child grown up she sees her other self and can thus estimate the qualities of body, mind, and spirit that now constitute herself, as they reveal themselves in another. She thus gains the child’s point of view and so is able to see herself through the child’s eyes. When she is reading a book, she is aware that the child is looking over her shoulder to note the quality of literature that engages her interest. When she is making a purchase at the shop, she finds the child standing at her elbow and duplicating her order. When she is buying a picture, she is careful to see to it that there are two copies, knowing that a second copy must be provided for the child. When she is arranging her personal adornment, she is conscious of the child peeping through the door and absorbing her with languishing eyes.

Mrs. John Quill and her husband quarreled at Eaton, O., over the question whether or not their daughter should wear bloomers. The Quills are old people, wealthy, and have a large family of grown-up children. Quill is 75 years old and very feeble, but he advocated bloomers. They quarreled viciously, and finally Mrs. Quill attempted to pull out her husband’s whiskers. Not succeeding, she cut them off. The fight was so bitter that both the old people are under a physician’s care, and it is feared Mrs. Quill will become insane.

The Louisville Journal of Monday has the following:

Mrs. Carter who lives on Green street, between Ninth and Tenth, as a son about seventeen years of age, who is so accustomed to walking in his sleep that his mother has found it necessary to have him sleep in the same room with her, so that he may be watched over. Yesterday morning, however, about two o’clock, he arose in his sleep, and was not discovered in time to prevent him from leaping over the balustrade of the back porch, in the third story of the house, to the pavement below, a distance of about twenty-five feet. After this freak the family rushed down stairs, expecting to find him lying there a bruised and mangled corpse, but all their searching was in vain. Pretty soon a vigorous pull was made at the door bell, and the door was opened, when in stalked the somnambulist “as large as life,” and inquired “what’s the matter?” A surgeon was immediately called, and the young man was found to be not seriously injured, he having only a few slight bruises on each arm. It is said that he did not awake until after the physician had made his examination.