Stultifera Navis :: :: University of Virginia Library

From what great stock dost thou boast blood,
From Babel's workmen 'fore the flood;
Or else from Asiatic?
Or, dost thou spring from that hot shore,
Which rears the savage black-a-moor,
Who boasts the dye of old nick?

Or, art thou sprung from Roman race?
Or, canst thou to the Grecian trace
The kindred of thy daddy?

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Or, art thou from the famous seed
Of those wha scratch beyond the Tweed;
Or else Hibernian Paddy?

Or, does the harper e'er rehearse
Thine ancestry, in Cambrian verse,
And boast thee sprung from madam;
Whose noble ancestry would scorn
The thought of any man not born
Before the days of Adam ?

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Unrolling thy long pedigree
Of honours, fourscore yards I see,
Emblazon'd bold as Tartars ;

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With eagles truss'd; chevaux de frize;
Your rampant lions; fleur de lis;
And bars , wound round like garters.

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Yet, hold, surmounting all the rest,
Appears a wondrous, common crest,
To all thy kindred striking:
For they alike thy symbols bear,
Bells, ladle, and the fool's cap wear,
Insignias of their liking.

L'ENVOY OF THE POET.

Consummate ass, how canst thou raise thy fame
On thoughts of pedigree and boasted birth?
The noblest title is an honest name;
For, after all, our common parent's earth.

183

THE POET'S CHORUS TO FOOLS.

Come, trim the boat, row on each Rara Avis,
Crowds flock to man my Stultifera Navis.

It is said, that there may be found an English noble, whose pedigree goeth back even unto the era of the Roman emperors; which may certainly be the case; as we find some of their extraordinary propensities handed down to the present period in his own person.

The Welshmen are proverbial for priding themselves on the antiquity of their origin; to whom these lines of Shakspeare may well be applied:

------I was born so high,
Our airy buildeth in the cedar's top;
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun.

This love of pedigree reminds me of the story of a fool, who, having suddenly acquired wealth, was very desirous of armorial bearings; and, for that purpose, made application to an herald, in order to know whether he had any right to a coat of arms; but the research was vain, until the dealer in pedigrees inquired whether or no some of his ancestors had not rendered themselves conspicuous by any notable feat: to which the fool, after some consideration, replied, that his father certainly had made himself famous by escaping from the prison of Ludgate, where he had been some time confined for petty larceny, and that his liberty was so effected, by his parent's having affixed a cord round the neck of the statue of King Lud, which was placed over the gateway, and by which means he let himself down.—“'Tis well,” exclaimed the herald, “I can now draw you out a pedigree of ten yards long, since it is plain that your father was a descendant from King Lud.”

The gentlemen of the College of Arms have a very happy nack at emblazoning, and can as easily produce yards as inches of pedigree, which tallies perfectly well with Butler's lines:

Nor does it follow, 'cause a herauld
Can make a gentleman, scarce a year old,
To be descended of a race
Of ancient kings in a small space;
That we should all opinion hold
Authentic, that we can make old.

Apropos, as we are touching on the subject of heralds, it will not be amiss to say a few words respecting their accoutrements on high days and holidays; which very much resemble the leathern surtouts of brewers' men, or the gilt cock and breeches of Bartholomew fair: nay, I have sometimes thought that they were not altogether unlike moving packing cases: at all events, the wearers of tabards are usually as empty headed. But, referring once more to their costume, we should not pass over unheeded the words of Shakspeare, who makes his Falstaff thus ludicrously describe them: “There is but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half shirt is two napkins tacked together, and thrown over the shoulders, like a herald's coat without sleeves, &c.”

The annotator was for some time incapable of divining the meaning of the poet's allusion, till the pannel of a ducal carriage, one day, unravelled the mystery in the following manner. “Being lately at the west end of the town, a very dashing chariot came tearing along the street, and just drew up to the portal of a noble mansion, as the writer was passing it with a friend. The shower of mud, which came like hail from the rapid whirl of the wheels, caused us to halt; and one of the footmen vaulting from behind, with his long cane, which may be well termed the London lacquey's augural staff, opened the carriage door, when the noble owner stepped forth, regardless of the dirty pickle in which he had bedizened us plebeian pedestrians. “That is the Duke of ------,” exclaimed my friend. “Impossible,” answered I, glancing at the arms emblazoned on the pannel of the vehicle, where I could perceive no bar of bastardy. “Pshaw,” replied my friend, “your heralds, now-a-days, have a method of disposing of them, so as to draw a veil over that family obloquy.” Upon this he requested me to examine the arms more minutely, which I accordingly did; when lo! the cloven foot appeared, but so artfully wound round the shield in form of a garter, as to take away all appearance of the fatal bar, that insignia of illegitimacy. Thanks to the contrivance of the Collegians of Arms.