Cabbala Algebraica. Auctore Gul. Lud. Christmann.[601] Stuttgard, 1827,
4to.
Eighty closely printed pages of an attempt to solve equations of every
degree, which has a process called by the author _cabbala_. An anonymous
correspondent spells _cabbala_ as follows, [Greek: chabball], and makes 666
out of its letters. This gentleman has sent me since my Budget commenced, a
little heap of satirical communications, each having a 666 or two; for
instance, alluding to my remarks on the spelling of _chemistry_, he finds
the fated number in [Greek: chimeia]. With these are challenges to explain
them, and hints about the end of the world. All these letters have
different fantastic seals; one of them with the legend "keep your
temper,"--another bearing "bank token five pence." The only signature is a
triangle with a little circle in it, which I interpret to mean that the
writer confesses himself to be the round man stuck in the three-cornered
hole, to be explained as in Sydney Smith's joke.
{273}
There is a kind of Cabbala Alphabetica which the investigators of the
numerals in words would do well to take up: it is the formation of
sentences which contain all the letters of the alphabet, and each only
once. No one has done it with _v_ and _j_ treated as consonants; but you
and I can do it. Dr. Whewell[602] and I amused ourselves, some years ago,
with attempts. He could not make sense, though he joined words: he gave me
Phiz, styx, wrong, buck, flame, quid.
I gave him the following, which he agreed was "admirable sense": I
certainly think the words would never have come together except in this
way:
I, quartz pyx, who fling muck beds.
I long thought that no human being could say this under any circumstances.
At last I happened to be reading a religious writer--as he thought
himself--who threw aspersions on his opponents thick and threefold. Heyday!
came into my head, this fellow flings muck beds; he must be a quartz pyx.
And then I remembered that a pyx is a sacred vessel, and quartz is a hard
stone, as hard as the heart of a religious foe-curser. So that the line is
the motto of the ferocious sectarian, who turns his religious vessels into
mudholders, for the benefit of those who will not see what he sees.
I can find no circumstances for the following, which I received from
another:
Fritz! quick! land! hew gypsum box.
From other quarters I have the following:
Dumpy quiz! whirl back fogs next.
This might be said in time of haze to the queer little figure in the Dutch
weather-toy, which comes out or goes in with the change in the atmosphere.
Again,
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Export my fund! Quiz black whigs.
This Squire Western might have said, who was always afraid of the whigs
sending the sinking-fund over to Hanover. But the following is the best: it
is good advice to a young man, very well expressed under the circumstances:
Get nymph; quiz sad brow; fix luck.
Which in more sober English would be, Marry; be cheerful; watch your
business. There is more edification, more religion in this than in all the
666-interpretations put together.
Such things would make excellent writing copies, for they secure attention
to every letter; _v_ and _j_ might be placed at the end.