Recurrent, reciprocal, or reversible words and verses.

Reading in every Style—What is a Palindrome?—What St. Martin said to the Devil—The Lawyer’s Motto—What Adam said to Eve—The Poor Young Man in Love—What Dean Swift wrote to Dr. Sheridan—“The Witch’s Prayer”—The Device of a Lady—Huguenot and Romanist; Double Dealing.      

The only fair specimen we can find of reciprocal words, or those which, read backwards or forwards, are the same, is the following couplet, which, according to an old book, cost the author a world of foolish labor:

Odo tenet mulum, madidam mulum tenet Odo.
Anna tenet mappam, madidam mappam tenet Anna.

The following admired reciprocal lines, addressed to St. Martin by Satan, according to the legend, the reader will find on perusal, either backwards or forwards, precisely the same:

Signa te signa; temere me tangis et angis;
Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor.

[St. Martin having given up the profession of a soldier, and having been made Bishop of Tours, when prelates neither kept carriages nor servants, had occasion to go to Rome, in order to consult the Pope upon ecclesiastical matters. As he was walking along the road he met the devil, who politely accosted him, and ventured to observe how fatiguing and indecorous it was for him to perform so long a journey on foot, like the commonest pilgrim. The Saint understood the drift of Old Nick’s address, and commanded him immediately to become a beast of burden, or jumentum; which the devil did in a twinkling by assuming the shape of a mule. The Saint jumped upon the fiend’s back, who at first trotted cheerfully along, but soon slackened his pace. The bishop of course had neither whip nor spurs, but was possessed of a much more powerful stimulus, for, says the legend, he made the sign of the cross, and the smarting devil instantly galloped away. Soon however, and naturally enough, the father of sin returned to sloth and obstinacy, and Martin hurried him again with repeated signs of the cross, till, twitched and stung to the quick by those crossings so hateful to him, the vexed and tired reprobate uttered the foregoing distich in a rage, meaning, Cross, cross yourself; you annoy and vex me without necessity; for owing to my exertions, Rome, the object of your wishes, will soon be near.]

The Palindrome changes the sense in the backward reading; the Versus Cancrinus retains the sense in both instances unchanged, as in this instance:

Bei Leid lieh stets Heil die Lieb.

(In trouble comfort is lent by love.)

Similarly recurrent is the lawyer’s motto,

Si nummi immunis,

translated by Camden, “Give me my fee, I warrant you free.”

The Greek inscription on the mosque of St. Sophia, in Constantinople,

Νίφον ἀνομήματα μὴ μόναν ὄφιν,

presents the same words, whether read from left to right, or from right to left. So also the expressions in English,

Madam, I’m Adam. (Adam to Eve.)
Name no one man.
Able was I ere I saw Elba. (Napoleon loq.)
Snug & raw was I ere I saw war & guns.
Red rum did emit revel ere Lever time did murder.
Red root put up to order.
Trash? even interpret Nineveh’s art.
Lewd did I live, evil I did dwel.
Draw pupil’s lip upward.

This enigmatical line surrounds a figure of the sun in the mosaic pavement of Sa. Maria del Fiori, at Florence:

En giro torte sol ciclos et rotor igne.

These lines are supposed to be addressed to a young man detained at Rome by a love affair:

Roma ibi tibi sedes—ibi tibi Amor;
Roma etsi te terret et iste Amor,
Ibi etsi vis te non esse—sed es ibi,
Roma te tenet et Amor.

At Rome you live—at Rome you love;

From Rome that love may you affright,

Although you’d leave, you never move,

For love and Rome both bar your flight.

Dean Swift wrote a letter to Dr. Sheridan, composed of Latin words strung together as mere gibberish but each word, when 61read backwards, makes passable English. 

Take for example the following short sentences:

Mi Sana. Odioso ni mus rem. Moto ima os illud dama nam? 

(I’m an ass. O so I do in summer. O Tom, am I so dull, I a mad man?)

Inscription for a hospital, paraphrased from the Psalms:

Acide me malo, sed non desola me, medica.

The ingenious Latin verses subjoined are reversible verbally only, not literally, and will be found to embody opposite meanings by commencing with the last word and reading backwards:

Prospicimus modo, quod durabunt tempore longo,
Fœdera, nec patriæ pax cito diffugiet.
Diffugiet cito pax patriæ, nec fœdera longo,
Tempore durabunt, quod modo prospicimus.

The following hexameter from Santa Marca Novella, Florence, refers to the sacrifice of Abel (Gen. iv. 4). Reversed, it is a pentameter, and refers to the sacrifice of Cain (iv. 3).

Sacrum pingue dabo non macram sacrificabo,
Sacrificabo macram non dabo pingue sacrum.

The subjoined distich arose from the following circumstance. 

A tutor, after having explained to his class one of the odes of Horace, undertook to dictate the same in hexameter verses, as an exercise (as he said). 

It cost him considerable trouble: he hesitated several times, and occasionally substituted other words, but finally succeeded. 

Some of his scholars thought he would not accomplish his task; others maintained that, having begun, it was a point of honor to complete it.

Retro mente labo, non metro continuabo;
Continuabo metro; non labo mente retro.

Addison mentions an epigram called the Witches’ Prayer, that “fell into verse when it was read either backward or forward, excepting only that it cursed one way, and blessed the other.”

One of the most remarkable palindromes on record is the following. Its distinguishing peculiarity is that the first letter of each successive word unites to spell the first word; the second letter of each, the second word; and so on throughout; and the same will be found precisely true on reversal.

SATOR AREPO TENET OPERA ROTAS.

But the neatest and prettiest specimen that has yet appeared comes from a highly cultivated lady who was attached to the court of Queen Elizabeth. 

Having been banished from the court on suspicion of too great familiarity with a nobleman then high in favor, the lady adopted this device,—the moon covered by a cloud,—and the following palindrome for a motto:—

ABLATA AT ALBA.

(Banished, but blameless.)

The merit of this kind of composition was never in any example so heightened by appropriateness and delicacy of sentiment.

Paschasius composed the recurrent epitaph on Henry IV.:

Arca serenum me gere regem, munere sacra,
Solem, arcas, animos, omina sacra, melos.

A very curious continuous series of palindromes was printed in Vienna in 1802. It was written in ancient Greek by a modern Greek named Ambrosius, who called it Πόιημα καρκινικὸν. 

It contains 455 lines, every one of which is a literal palindrome. A few are selected at random, as examples:—

Ἰσα πασι Ση τε υη, Συ ὁ Μουσηγετης ις απασι.
Νεαν ασω μελιφωνον, ὦ φιλε, Μωσαν αεν.
Ὠ λακωνικε, σε μονω τω Νομε, σε κινω καλω.
Ἀρετα πηγασε σε σα γη πατερα.
Σωτηρ συ εσο, ὦ ελεε θεε λεω ος ευς ρητως.

The following line is expressive of the sentiments of a Roman Catholic; read backwards, of those of a Huguenot:

Patrum dicta probo, nec sacris belligerabo.
Belligerabo sacris, nec probo dicta patrum.

These lines, written to please a group of youthful folk, serve to show that our English tongue is as capable of being twisted into uncouth shapes as is the Latin, if any one will take the trouble:

One winter’s eve, around the fire, a cozy group we sat,

Engaged, as was our custom old, in after-dinner chat;

Small-talk it was, no doubt, because the smaller folk were there,

And they, the young monopolists! absorbed the lion’s share.

Conundrums, riddles, rebuses, cross-questions, puns atrocious,

Taxed all their ingenuity, till Peter the precocious—

Old head on shoulders juvenile—cried, “Now for a new task:

Let’s try our hand at Palindromes!” “Agreed! But first,” we ask,

“Pray, Peter, what are Palindromes?” The forward imp replied,

“A Palindrome’s a string of words of sense or meaning void,

Which reads both ways the same: and here, with your permission,

I’ll cite some half a score of samples, lacking all precision

(But held together by loose rhymes, to test my definition):—

“A milksop, jilted by his lass, or wandering in his wits,

Might murmur, ‘Stiff, O dairy-man, in a myriad of fits!’

“A limner by photography dead-beat in competition,

Thus grumbled, ‘No, it is opposed; art sees trade’s opposition!’

“A nonsense-loving nephew might his soldier-uncle dun

With ‘Now stop, major-general, are negro jam-pots won?’

“A supercilious grocer, if inclined that way, might snub

A child with ‘But regusa store, babe, rots a sugar-tub.’

“Thy spectre, Alexander, is a fortress, cried Hephaestion.

Great A. said, ‘No, it’s a bar of gold, a bad log for a bastion!’

“A timid creature, fearing rodents—mice and such small fry—

‘Stop, Syrian, I start at rats in airy spots,’ might cry.

“A simple soul, whose wants are few, might say, with hearty zest,

‘Desserts I desire not, so long no lost one rise distressed.’

“A stern Canadian parent might in earnest, not in fun,

Exclaim, ‘No sot nor Ottawa law at Toronto, son!’

“A crazy dentist might declare, as something strange or new,

That ‘Paget saw an Irish tooth, sir, in a waste gap!’ True!

“A surly student, hating sweets, might answer with elan,

‘Name tarts? no, medieval slave, I demonstrate man!’

“He who in Nature’s bitters findeth sweet food every day,

‘Eureka! till I pull up ill I take rue,’ well might say.”

Charles Carroll Bombaugh, Gleaningsfrom the Harvest-Fields of Literature (A Melange of Excerpta), J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, 1890.

Photo: Pixabay/GDJ 

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