p> 
1828.] Notes for the Month. 287 
with whom he cohabited, and who had borne him children ; kept articles 
of her property, after the murder, about him in the way of remem- 
brance ; made equivoques, when questioned as to what had become of 
her ; and altogether exhibited the most philosophical sang froid in her 
death ; the moment his own appears to be on the approach, becomes 
the most concerned and anxious person imaginable. The real truth is— 
and, in despite of theories, the feelings of every man approve it—that 
the penalty of death is the severest, and, in the way of example, acts as 
the severest that can be inflicted. Crimes are committed, not in despite 
of the gallows, but in the hope of escape from it. The story about the 
Gateaux de Nanterre proves nothing more than that people are generally 
seized upon by any thing that is violently unexpected or incongruous. 
In the deepest scene of a tragedy, the chance pop of a soda water bottle 
sets a whole audience laughing. For the vender of cakes herself, she 
merely acted as all the world acts: with the same object and feeling, 
though under less ordinary circumstances. She came to the execution, 
because there would be a crowd there, who would be likely to buy her 
pastry. And she cried, “ Gateaux de Nanterre!” not because she 
underrated the inconvenience of hanging, but because her affair was to 
be heard, in the seeking of her livelihood. 
That ghosts do not return from the grave is certain, or we should 
sometimes hear of the tearing to pieces of a biographer. In addition to 
the hundred and one volumes of twaddle already printed about Dr. 
Parr, Mr. Barker, of Thetford, has put forth a hundred and second 
thick octavo, of “ Parriana;’’ and threatens to deliver himself even of 
another. This first infliction of Mr. Barker’s consists principally of 
trivialities at second hand, digested or reprinted, from the histories of 
earlier writers. We afford a few extracts to exemplify how the follies 
of a really learned, though very tedious, man, may be raked up to 
disparage and throw ridicule upon his memory. The first reminiscences 
are from the pen of the Rev. John Stewart, curate of Sporle, in Nor- 
folk :— 
“JT think I never saw a genuine, fame-loving whist-player except Parr. 
Victory was his sole aim. The spoils of it he left to others. One rubber 
always amused him—he seldom played a second—he paid always, when he 
lost—he never accepted payment when he won, in so far as I have seen him. 
It so happened that, upon the night in question, Parr’s partner ruinously 
finessed, and Parr remonstrated. The former, who had hoped to ‘ shadow 
himself with laurels, felt compelled, on the contrary, to ‘ pass under the 
yoke.’ To extenuate his own disgrace, he flew at a noble quarry, and made 
a sharp and offensive retort. As he waxed warmer, Parr became cooler, until 
the latter had finally reasoned down his temper to the most enviable repose. 
For some time he remained silent ; but it was an eloquent silence, felt as welt 
as seen; and when at last he did speak, in place of the terrible chastisement 
fairly earned, and by me anticipated, Parr coolly reviewed and pointedly cen- 
sured his faults, both of play and temper, demonstrated, triumphantly, his 
egregious blunders in each, and made him the slave of his pity rather than 
8 anger.” 
Now what fourteen out of fifteen of these eloquent lines mean, we 
ot ourselves at a loss to understand. But we give another story 
rom the same “ sweet remembrancer.” The prostration of all these 
narrators before their great Apollo, is the most curious part of the affair. 
“TI prithee put thy foot upon my neck!” seems to breathe out in every 
sentence that they utter. 
