I am sorry to think that two such distinguished men as Calvin and Rabelais should have been culprits in this respect. Such, however, is the fact. Calvin, angry at the notorious Lucianism of Rabelais, whose talents he had hoped might have been better used, and anxious to cut the connexion with him, anagrammatized his name "Rabelæsius" into Rabie Lasus (Bitten-mad). It was rather rash in Calvin; for, of all things on earth, to think of fighting a Rabelais with his own weapons, or, for that matter, with any weapons, is the most hopeless. And so it proved. All Europe lay still and breathless, waiting the sure response. It was the calm before a thunderstorm.

It came at last. "So I am 'Rabie lasus,' Mr. John; and pray what are you? 'Calvin;' let me see; 'Jan Cul;' yes, that's about it!" And over Europe rushed the jest, as it had been a scavenger in the sky; and Calvin, we fancy, did not come out for a week.

Like all good things, a good anagram is a rare and difficult production. The conduct of an anagrammatist in search of his anagram is perhaps the sublimest illustration of the action of genius in general. It is literally, as we have seen -if the word or words exceed a very few letters-mind on the one hand against chaotic infinity on the other. But here, as in other arts, practice and rule effect wondrous simplifications. The anagrammatist need not really pernavigate the whole sea of transpositions into which the words he works on will resolve themselves. By instinct, or by a trial or two, he perceives vast directions in which all is gibberish-mere kelp-beds and stagnation of unmouthable combinations of consonants; and so, very soon, he hovers gull-like over the few clear tracts where there is the best chance of a fish. But O the agony of effort after effort still in vain! He gets to a word or two; he sees the longedfor possibility; but, no; some six or seven letters still stand out obstinate, and will not fall into rank and file. Most often he has to stop at this stage, wearied and disappointed; but, sometimes, there is a flash of light, and the

reluctant letters seem subdued. No! there is still one irreducible letter-a brute of a V or a B which neither knocks can force nor persuasion can wheedle; and, nine times out of ten, even when this stage has been reached (and that is perhaps but once in twenty attempts), either all has to be begun afresh on a new tack, or some despicable shift, not allowed by the true rules of anagram, has to be resorted to, so that the anagram produced is but a paltry imposture. Once and again at long intervals perhaps there is the perfect feat -the inspired anagram done in one wild moment of ecstasy, or the elaborate anagram nobly consummated by persevering skill. Then let the neighbourhood look out for the sight of an Archimedes in the streets.

What has been said will sufficiently explain why it is that, though the world has lasted six thousand years (we adhere to this time-honoured phrase advisedly, because it is the bounden duty of every literary man to assert the entire independence of Literature upon Science), so few supremely good anagrams have been rolled down to us. Allowing for undiscovered gold-grains that may lie imbedded in those obsolete masses of Anagrammatic Literature to which Mr. Wheatley refers, and especially in the Latin collections of the learned age of modern Europe, one may assert that all the really superb anagrams now extant might be contained in a pill-box. I wish I could present this pill-box to the reader, so that, in this department, he might be sure of having the whole pith of the world's produce up to the present moment. As it is, all I can do is to give a few of Mr. Wheatley's samples, and add a few more from other sources. Nor do I restrict myself to such as I can certify to be good; for, as my purpose is to illustrate the principles of Anagrammatism, it may be useful to exhibit all kinds of specimens, from the coarse anagram in the rough to the perfect sparkler.

One kind of Anagram noticed by Mr. Wheatley, which is really scarcely a true anagram, though good in its way, is that

which arises not from the rearrangement or transposition of letters, but only from their redivision or resyllabification. Thus, when Alexander the Great was about to raise the siege of Tyre in despair of taking the town, he had a dream of a Satyr leaping round him; which dream his sages, on being consulted on the subject, converted into a prophetic anagram. "Satyros (A Satyr)," said they; "yes, Sa Tyros (Tyre is thine)." This put heart into the king, and Tyre was taken. Not unlike this Greek anagram is a German one. "At "the general peace of 1814," says Mr. Wheatley, "a portion of Saxony fell "to the share of Prussia; and the king, "to celebrate this addition to his do"minions, issued a new coinage of rix"dollars, with the name 'Reichsthaler' impressed upon them. These circulate "in the Prussian part of Saxony; and "the Saxons, by dividing the word, "make the sentence, 'Ein Reich stahl

er (He stole a kingdom)."" Patriot, resolved into "Pat-riot," is a poorer nstance.

A considerable number of anagrams are of general words or phrases of important or interesting meaning. Thus, to throw a few from Mr. Wheatley's list into small type

REVOLUTION: Love to ruin.

RADICAL REFORM: Rare mad frolic. SPANISH MARRIAGES: Rash games in Paris. POTENTATES: Ten Tea-Pots. An anagram of unfathomable significance !

ALTERATIONS: Neat tailors.
ASTRONOMERS: Moon-starers.
CATALOGUES: Got as a clue.
ELEGANT Neat leg.
IMPATIENT: Tim in a pet.
LAWYERS: Sly ware.

MATRIMONY: Into my arm. (This was made by a one-armed man, and illustrates the necessity, in studying an anagram, of being intimately acquainted with the life and circumstances of the anagrammatist.)

OLD ENGLAND: Golden land.
PARISHIONERS: I hire
parsons.
PRESBYTERIAN: Best in prayer.
PUNISHMENT: Nine thumps.
SOLEMNITY: Yes, Milton.

LA SAINTE ALLIANCE: La Sainte Canaille. LA RÉVOLUTION FRANÇAISE: Veto (suppose these letters taken out, and then) Un Corse la finira.

Of the same kind are these-CON

SERVATIVE: Native Covers; LIBERAL: Bill-era; CRINOLINE: Inner Coil. So also, a cynical person, living when the celebrated Mr. Pye was poet-laureate to George III., might very well have called POETRY Pye-rot; but, if the cynic were alive now, any friend, wanting to refer him to a different specimen of the article, might answer Try Poe.

The two French examples in the above list are on the edge of a class of anagrams which is by far the most numerous and most interesting-Anagrams on Proper Names; chiefly, but not exclusively, on names of persons. This is the favourite hunting-ground of the anagrammatist; here it is that he wins his triumphs. Let us give another selection from Mr. Wheatley's specimens, with such annotations as we think necessary :

MARIA STEUARDA, SCOTORUM REGINA: Trusa vi regnis morte amará cado (Thrust by force from my kingdoms, I fall by a bitter death). JAMES STUART: A just master. This was made by the poet Sylvester, on James I.

CHARLES STUART: Cals true harts. Made by Taylor, the Water Poet, on Charles I. It illustrates the necessity of being acquainted with the orthography, or the orthographic licence, of the period to which an anagram belongs. But Taylor was a clumsy anagrammatist at best.

SIR FRANCIS BACON, LORD KEEPER: 13 born and elect for a rich speaker. So Mr. Wheatley gives it, as the anagram by a contemporary of the great man; but, on testing it, we can make out only, Ís born and elec for a ric spek-the original being four letters too short. This shows the necessity of verifying reputed anagrams. It is a sad thought that many may be passing unchallenged which are but impostures. In this case, however, deep and sustained investigation has enabled me to mend the anagram. It must have been given forth thus:-SIR FRANCIS BACON, THE LORD KEEPER 18 born and elect for rich speaker.

WILLIAM NOY: I moyl in law. This anagram, on the laborious Attorney-General of Charles the First, made a great sensation at the time.

PHINEAS FLETCHER: Hath Spencer life? A very good anagram; for, in the age after Spenser's death, Phineas Fletcher had more of his manner and spirit than almost any other poet.

GEORGIUS MONKE, DUX DE AUMARLE: Ego Regem reduxi, año Sa. MDCLVV. (I restored the king in the year 1660.) In this the liberty is required of taking K for C.

JOHN BUNYAN: Nu hony in a B. Very

execrable, we should have said; but, as it was made by Bunyan himself, we are reverently dumb.

HORATIO NELSON: Honor est a Nilo (Honour is from the Nile). This celebrated anagram, put in circulation when the news of the victory of the Nile arrived in England, was the work of a clergyman-the Rev. William Holden, Rector of Chatteris. It suggests the important question how far it is lawful, in quest of an anagram, to burst the bounds of the language of the original. I have my doubts; but it is evident that a vast extension would be given to the powers of the anagrammatist if he had the run of all or of several of the Indo-European languages.

ARTHUR WELLESLEY: Truly he'll see war. To this, from Mr. Wheatley, let us add these obvious transpositions-Rules the war-yell (which comes as a consolation after the first), and Rule, earthy swell (which might express the opinion of those detractors who, while the Duke was alive, accused him of being hard and worldly). But best is the following: ARTHUR WELLESLEY, DUKE OF WELLINGTON: Let wellfoil'd Gaul secure thy renown.

SIR ROBERT PEEL: Terrible poser.

SIR FRANCIS BURDETT: Frantic Disturbers.
PRINCE REGENT: G. R. in pretence.
IRELAND: Daniel R.

JOHN ABERNETHY: Johnny the Bear. FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE: Flit on, cheering angel.

GEORGE THOMPSON: O go, the Negro's M.P.
NOTES AND QUERIES : Enquiries on Dates.

Here are a few more, which were found by a friend of ours neatly tied up in a paper parcel in one of the niches of London Bridge. Outside the parcel was this inscription, "Finder, use these well : they are all I have to leave to the world." Let them be received, therefore, solemnly rather than critically, with a tear for the unfortunate author :

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE: I make; eras will shape; or, Rake; I will shame apes-the former expressing Shakespeare's confidence in his creative genius, and the perpetual pliability of his creations to the wants of future times; the latter being an address of disgust to his biographers, commentators, and imitators. JAMES WATT: A steam wit.

ALFRED TENNYSON: Ferny land-notes. CHARLES DICKENS: Cheer sick lands. WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY: Peace! h-m! ay, I will make a racket. Dimly intelligible!

JOANNES MILTON: 0, Annon limites? (0, are there not limits?) The question is evidently addressed to him in his capacity as a Latin writer and thorough-going politician; and, if you want the answer, you must take it out of his other designation-JOHN MILTON, POET: No, limit not hope!

JOHN DRYDEN: Rhino deny'd-which was glorious John's life-long complaint; in his own spelling, too.

ALEXANDER POPE: Pope Alexander, or A Pole Expander; either significant to all except dull minds.

CHARLES THE FIRST: His charters left; or, better, Let charters fish. For the full relish of this last the reader must know the story, recently recovered from the State papers, how the king, walking one day by the Thames, and having a copy of the English Constitution presented to him by a deputation from Parliament, threw the document into the river with the above observation, and sent the deputation to the Tower.

OLIVER CROMWELL: More clover, Will-an anagram beautifully representing Oliver's life when he was a quiet farmer, and had a servantlad named William; or Welcomer r―l violwhich expresses the opinion of Oliver's adherents that he was a better first-fiddle than the martyr monarch. Observe how significant is the blank in the word "royal.' Oliver was not nominally king, though really such.

ROBERT BURNS: Burst reborn; for poetry burst forth afresh in Burns, as if reborn after the long death of the eighteenth century.

JAMES MACPHERSON: Me cramp Ossian! he! -expressing how James laughed to scorn the charge brought against him; or, M.P., reach me Össian-which was a standing joke against Macpherson in the library of the House of Commons when he became a member.

THOMAS CHALMERS: Chatham morsels, or Calm mass, he Thor, or Home charms last; all very exact and descriptive.

THOMAS CARLYLE. This name is rich in anagrams-thus: Cry shame to all, or Amos, thy recall, or Mercy, lash a lot, or A lot cry "Lash me."

JOHN STUART MILL: Just mart on hill (i.e. not only fair exchange, but with all circumstances of publicity); or O thrill, just man, or O man, just thrill-expressing two opinions of the character of Mr. Mill's philosophy.

JOHN RUSKIN: No ink-rush Il

HENRY HALLAM: Real manly H. H.

THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY: Mouths big; a Cantab anomaly; or, O, a big mouth; a manly Cantab's!

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH: Wit or will mous hard.

SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE: 0, real cut idle gems.

JEREMY BENTHAM: The body of Jeremy Bentham never was buried. By his own directions it was kept above ground-a wax facsimile of his face and head being fitted on to his skeleton, and his own silver hair and the hat and clothes he usually wore being placed on the figure, so as to make an exact representation of him sitting in his chair as when alive. Perhaps his notion was that his school would last, and that he should be wheeled in to preside at their annual meetings in that ghastly form. At all events, the figure was

long kept by the late Dr. Southwood Smith, and is now in one of the London museums. No one can look at it without disgust at such an exhibition-the too literal fulfilment of the senile whim of a really great and worthy man. His very name contains the punishment of the whim, Jeer my bent ham.

JOSEPH BUTLER (of the "Analogy"): Be true Philos.

SIR WILLIAM HAMILTON: The anagram of the name of this great metaphysician takes the form of a bit of dramatic dialogueL. L.L.: "I am I ; am I not?" H.: "W. (Double you), Sir!"

So profound an anagram as this may require a little explanation. L. L. L. is the "Learned Logic Lecturer," Sir William himself; he is interrogating H., one of his hearers, and, to try his powers of thinking, asks him in a personal form a question of great metaphysical moment. The Hearer is evidently puzzled and cannot grasp the notion of Sir William being I and then I again, or two Sir Williams at once.

VISCOUNT PALMERSTON Sit upon realms, Count. This is general, for the Viscount's whole career; but No psalm-tunes, Victor, is particular, and expresses the tenor of his views on Italian politics at present.

SIR COLIN CAMPBELL: Loll in camp, scribe; expressing the fact that newspaper correspondents might take it easy when Sir Colin was in command.

EDMUND BURKE: Drunk mud-bee.

EDWARD GIBBON: Od big braw Ned-a complimentary exclamation by an enthusiastic Scotch admirer; or Brain, wedd bog, expressing admirably, but in an ill-spelt manner, the nature of Gibbon's great achievement as a historian-the reduction of the disorderly quagmire of the middle ages into firm land and verdure by the application of brain to it.

JAMES BOSWELL. Among all Boswell's stories of Johnson none is better than that of the bow Johnson made to the Archbishop. Never was such a bow in the world. It was a combination into one tremendous, indescribable

gesture, of every style and mode of ceremonious flexure possible to the human body, short of actual prostration; and Boswell records it with infinite gusto, and as it were stands by, that you may enjoy the full view of it. Of course he does; his name destined him to do it: See, Sam, J'll bow.

ADAM SMITH: Admit hams-i.e. apply the principle of free trade first to one particular article, and mark the results.

RICHARD COBDEN: Rich corn, bedad! FRANCIS BACON : Bo! Franciscan; showing Bacon's contempt for the monkish or scholastic philosophy.

ISAAC NEWTON: A twin case? No.

EDWARD ROSS (the first champion shot of England): Sod-Rewards — alluding to the mounds of turf or sod on which the competitors knelt when firing at Wimbledon.

THE TIMES: Its theme!-i.e. the whole planet and all that takes place upon it; Meet this -a reference chiefly to the advertisements in the second column; and, finally, E. E. T. Smith. This last anagram we could not interpret for some time; but we think we have it now. It seems to mean that The Times represents Smith, or general English opinion, and yet not Smith absolutely and altogether, but rather Smith when he is well backed by capital.

In

From these specimens it will be perceived that there is yet plenty of room in the world for good anagrams. dividual effort may do much. But what wealth of results might be expected if the whole nation were to take the matter in hand, and were, by arrangements well preconcerted, to devote one complete day of twelve hours-say the 1st of April next, from nine in the morning till nine in the evening-to simultaneous anagram-making! One such day of united effort would certainly hoist us a mile or two nearer the moon.

THE musical season of the International Exhibition year has presented some prominent and striking features, but on

1 We refer to a former article (October, 1861) for the reasons why we confine our remarks here to the public concerts of firstclass music, omitting reference to the operas and the benefit concerts of private individuals.

the whole has been less remunerative to concert-givers than was anticipated. It was supposed that, from the immense influx of strangers into the metropolis, greatly increased audiences might be expected for evening entertainments of all kinds; but this anticipation has not been realized, probably from the fact that,

after the laborious occupations of incessant sight-seeing during the day, the visitors have been too fatigued to care about attending hot rooms in the evening. Good music, too, now-a-days, is no longer confined to the metropolis, and is therefore no rarity to our country friends; while to foreigners we have little to offer comparable to what they may hear in their own lands, for a small fraction of the price they must pay here.

The Philharmonic Society have this year completed the fiftieth season since their establishment, which they have celebrated with a "Jubilee Concert," presented to their subscribers in addition to the eight ordinary performances of the subscription. This was held on the 14th July, at St. James's Hall; but, singularly enough, the selection of music appeared to have no reference whatever to the event, except one piece composed by Dr. Bennett, the conductor, expressly for the occasion. The directors announced, the previous season, that this concert would be given for the "performance, on a large scale, of the "colossal works written expressly for "the Society by Beethoven, Spohr, Men"delssohn, and other great composers," but we look in vain through the programme for a single piece answering this description. The symphony was Mozart's "Jupiter," the overtures were Beethoven's "Leonora" and Weber's "Euryanthe," and the instrumental solos were a concerto of Spohr's, Beethoven's Choral Fantasia, and a thème varié by Signor Piatti; to which were added Mendelssohn's "Hear my prayer" and finale to "Loreley," the solos by Madame Lind Goldschmidt and Mademoiselle Tietjens respectively.

Dr. Bennett's composition was a "Fantasia Overture," intended to illustrate, or to depict, or to imitate, or whatever it may be called, Moore's "Paradise and the Peri ;" and the programme was arranged with portions of the music printed alongside certain passages in the words, which they were intended to apply to. That the composition was a very beautiful one, and well worthy of the high reputation of our first English composer,

will be granted at once; but we may be allowed, without disrespect, to doubt whether this kind of music is really so successful as might at first be supposed.

A great rage has arisen, in modern days, for giving instrumental music what is called a "descriptive" character. It has been thought not enough that music should excite emotions in the mind; but it has been desired to make it also suggest ideas of scenes or occurrences, between which and the music no immediate connexion is traceable.

It is an open question, which deserves more investigation than it has yet received, how far music is legitimately capable of expressing ideas lying out of the proper domain of sound. That it is so, to a certain extent, is undeniable but this extent is much more limited than is usually supposed, as is evident from the fact of the exceeding indefiniteness of the impressions produced. For, if we examine closely into the working on the mind of any descriptive piece of instrumental music, we shall find that by far the greater portion of its efficiency is due to our own fancy, and very little to the suggestive power of the music itself. It is easy enough, when we are told beforehand the programme of a composition, to identify, or rather to imagine we can identify, its descriptions; but let any descriptive symphony or overture, even of the highest class, be played to a person ignorant of its name or intention, and see the result of his endeavours to make out its meaning. The most contradictory guesses are made even by eminent musical critics; and often, even where an explanatory programme is given, the case is not much better; for we have frequently remarked the perplexity of hearers listening to a romantic composition, with a long sheet of explanation in their hands, and trying their utmost, but in vain, to make out what part of the scene is being played. And we have been somewhat profanely reminded of the showman, who, when asked inconvenient questions by his juvenile spectators as to which part of the picture he was describing, cunningly