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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

VOLUME XX., NO. 578] SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1, 1832. [PRICE 2d.

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[Illustration: TANFIELD ARCH, DURHAM.]


Tanfield is a considerable village, situated seven miles from Gateshead,
in the county of Durham, and eight miles in a south-west direction from
Newcastle-on-Tyne. The above arch is about a mile from the village, and
crosses a deep dell, called Causey Burne, down which an insignificant
streamlet finds its sinuous course. The site possesses some picturesque
beauty, though its silvan pride be

  After a season gay and brief,
  Condemn'd to fade and flee.


It has much of the poet's "bosky bourne," and beside

  The huddling brooklet's secret brim,


his pensive mind may feed upon the natural glories of the scene; while,
attuned to melancholy,

  In hollow music sighing through the glade,
    The breeze of autumn strikes the startled ear,
  And fancy, pacing through the woodland shade,
    Hears in the gust the requiem of the year.


KIRKE WHITE'S _Early Poems_.

The ARCH was an architectural wonder of the last century. It was built
in the year 1729, as a passage for the wagon-way, or rail-road for the
conveyance of coals from collieries in the vicinity of Tanfield, which
were the property of an association called "the Great Allies." It is a
magnificent stone structure, one hundred and thirty feet in the span,
springing from abutments nine feet high, to the height of sixty feet:
a dial is placed on the top with a suitable inscription. The expense
of its construction is stated to have amounted to 12,000_l._; the
masonry is reputed to be extremely good, and the arch itself is nearly
perfect, though it is now only known as a foot-way, the collieries for
the use of which it was built, being no longer worked: previously it was
but a private road-way. In Cooke's _Topography_ we find it stated,
(though it is not mentioned upon what authority,) that the architect
built a former arch which fell, and that the apprehension of the second
experiencing the same fate induced him to commit suicide.

Before the building of the New London Bridge, the arch at Tanfield is
said to have been the largest stone arch in existence. The span of the
central arch of the bridge is 152 feet; and that of the arches on each
side of the centre, 140 feet: the span of the arches of Waterloo Bridge
is 120 feet; so that the reader may form a tolerably correct estimate of
the arch at Tanfield.

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THE RESTING-PLACE.


  Where shall this wounded, aching breast.
  Find a couch of soothing rest--
      A respite from its woes?
  Friend! mark'st thou that grassy bed,
  The cold, clay dwelling of the dead--
      There, there is sure repose.

  When shall this soul, so long borne down
  By Fate's despite and with'ring frown,
      A rescue know from care?
  Friend! when that dark home is thine,
  Never more thy heart shall pine--
      Grim sorrow comes not there.

  When thy name is of that number,
  Sound and sweet will be thy slumber;--
  All earthly pangs and troubles cease,
  Nor dare invade that house of peace.
  On that pillow, ozier drest,
  The worn, the "weary are at rest."
  Thy broken heart shall cease to sigh,
  And tears forsake that sunken eye;--
  No dreams distract that holy sleep--
  No tempests break that calm so deep.
  Come, then!--forsaken, wearied, come!
  Here is for thee a peaceful home.


_Sarum._           COLBOURNE.

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THE HORSE "ECLIPSE."


A warm--hearted Correspondent, "W.C." of _Milton_ (who is anxious
for our accuracy on all points), wishes us to correct an error or two in
the account of _Eclipse_, at p. 362, vol. xix. of _The Mirror_. It is
there stated that Mr. Wildman sold the moiety of Eclipse to Colonel
O'Kelly, for 650 guineas; and that O'Kelly subsequently bought the other
moiety for 1,100 guineas. But, our Correspondent, who was for many years
intimate with both the above gentlemen, assures us that "the Colonel
gave to Mr. Wildman 2,000_l._ for a moiety of Eclipse, and
subsequently 2,000_l._ for the other moiety--making the whole
purchase-money 4,000_l_."

In the page wherein the above mis-statement appears is another error,
respecting the speed of _Childers_--"over the round course at
Newmarket, 3 miles, 6 furlongs, and 93 yards, in 6 minutes and 40
seconds; to perform which, he must have moved 82-1/2 feet in a second of
time, or at the rate of nearly one mile in a minute." We have referred
to the work whence the above was quoted (_Hist. Epsom_, p. 103),
and find it to correspond with our reprint. The calculation is evidently
incorrect: for Childers would thus appear scarcely to have exceeded half
a mile a minute.

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THE NATURALIST.

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POISON OF THE HORNED VIPER.

(_Cerastes Coluber._)


Mr. Madden, whilst in Thebes, killed one of these animals, for the
purpose of extracting its poison, which he found in a small membrane in
the front of the jaw under the two hollow teeth. Having collected the
venom carefully on a piece of glass, he examined it with a microscope,
and found it to consist of sharp, saline spiculae, of a reticular
appearance, extremely minute. "Half of this I gave to a dog, in a piece
of meat--it produced no sensible effect; I then diluted the remainder,
smeared the point of a lancet with it, and wounded the dog in the
shoulder: this application he only survived three hours."'--_Madden's
Travels._

MEDICUS.

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FISH BATTLE.


Captain Crow, in a work published a short time since, relates the
following as having occurred on a voyage to Memel:--"One morning during
a cairn, when near the Hebrides, all hands were called up at three
o'clock, to witness a battle between several of the fish called
thrashers and some sword-fish on one side, and an enormous whale on the
other. It was in the middle of summer, and the weather being clear, and
the fish close to the vessel, we had a fine opportunity of witnessing
the contest. As soon as the whale's back appeared above the water, the
thrashers, springing several yards into the air, descended with great
violence upon the object of their rancour, and inflicted upon him the
most severe slaps with their tails, the sound of which resembled the
reports of muskets fired at a distance. The sword-fish, in their turn,
attacked the distressed whale, stabbing him from below;--and thus beset
on all sides, and wounded, when the poor creature appeared, the water
around him was dyed with blood. In this manner they continued tormenting
and wounding him for many hours, until we lost sight of him; and I have
no doubt they, in the end, accomplished his destruction."

W.G.C.

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NOTES OF A READER.

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INFLUENCE OF THE MIND ON THE BODY.


"Should the body sue the mind before a court of judicature, for damages,
it would be found that the mind would prove to have been a ruinous
tenant to its landlord."--_Plutarch_.

[We abridge these interesting facts from "An Inquiry into the Influence
of the Mind and Passions on the Body, in the production of Disease"--in
No. 11 of the _London Medical and Surgical Journal_.[1] The whole
paper is written in as clear, concise, and popular a style as the
subject will allow, and its importance demands the attention of the
reader; although we have not thought it to our purpose to follow the
writer to the main object--or how these causes operate in the
_production of disease_.]

Descartes observes, that the soul is so much influenced by the
constitution of our bodily organs, that if it were possible to find out
a method of increasing our penetration, it should certainly be sought
for in medicine, the connexion between the body and mind, is, in fact,
so strong, that it is difficult to conceive how one of them should act,
and the other not be sensible, in a greater or less degree, of that
action. The organs of sense, by which we acquire all our ideas of
external objects, when acted upon, convey the subject of thought to the
nervous fibres of the brain; and while the mind is employed in thinking,
the part of the brain is in a greater or less degree of motion; a large
quantity of blood is transmitted to the brain, the action of the
arteries become increased, and the nervous system sensibly affected.

Plato has remarked, with reference to the influence of the mind on the
corporeal frame, "Where the action of the soul is too powerful, it
attacks the body so powerfully that it throws it into a consuming state;
if the soul exerts itself in a peculiar manner on certain occasions, the
body is made sensible of it, for it becomes heated and debilitated." An
Italian physician also observes on this subject, that the union of the
soul with the body is so intimate, that they reciprocally share the good
or evil which happens to either of them. The mind cannot put forth its
powers when the body is tired with inordinate exercise and too close
application to study destroys the body by dissipating the animal spirits
which are necessary to recruit it.[2]

The knowledge of the influence of the passions of the mind over the
bodily functions, is of ancient date. Plato, in his "_Timaeus_,"
states it as his firm conviction, that the spirit exerted a marked
influence in producing disease. This opinion was afterwards revived by
Helmont, Hesper Doloeus, and Stahl; the latter plainly says, that the
rational soul presides over and directs the animal functions. In this
doctrine he was followed by Nichols, in his "_Anima Medica_."
According to the doctrines of Stahl, the disorders of the body proceed
principally from the mind; and, according as it is variously affected,
it produces different effects (diseases.) Hence, when the mind, which
animates the most robust and best organized body, is violently agitated
by fright, rage, grief, vehement desire, or any other passion, whether
sudden, or attended by long and painful sensations, the body manifestly
suffers, and a variety of diseases, as apoplexy, palsy, madness, fever,
and hysterics, may be the consequence. If this be true, an attention to
the regulations of the mind is of much more importance than physicians
seem disposed to admit. The poet of health justly says,

  "'Tis the great art of life to manage well
  The restless mind."


In the course of this vitally important and deeply-interesting subject
of inquiry, it is not my intention to enter into any metaphysical
discussion respecting the inscrutable and mysterious union existing
between matter and mind, or to endeavour to point out the manner in
which the body influences the mind, and the mind the body. Such subjects
we do not think to be legitimate objects of inquiry. The medical
philosopher is engaged in less obscure and less uncertain researches; he
does not attempt to solve the question regarding the intimate union
subsisting between the natural and intellectual portions of our nature,
but he wisely confines himself to an attentive examination of the
phenomena which result from that union. Man is compounded of a soul and
body, so closely united, not _identified,_ that they frequently
struggle and occasionally overpower each other. Sometimes the mind
ascends the throne and subdues, in a moment, the physical energies of
the most powerful of her subjects. At other times the body gains the
ascendency, and lays prostrate before her the mightiest of human
intellects. Instances illustrative of both propositions are of daily
occurrence. It has been said of Sophocles, that being desirous of
proving that at an advanced age he was in full possession of his
intellectual faculties, he composed a tragedy, was crowned, and died
through joy. The same thing happened to Philippides, the comic writer.
M. Juventius Thalma, on being told that a triumph had been decreed to
him for having subdued Corsica, fell down dead before the altar at which
he was offering up his thanksgiving. Zimmerman, in his work on
Experience in Physic, has related the circumstance of a worthy family in
Holland being reduced to indigence; the elder brother passed over to the
East Indies, acquired considerable fortune there, and returning home
presented his sister with the richest jewel: the young woman, at this
unexpected change of fortune became motionless and died. The famous
Forquet died on being told that Louis XIV. had restored him to his
liberty. It is also related of Diodorus Chronos, who was considered as
the most subtle logician of the time of Ptolemy Soter, that Stilbo one
day in the presence of the king, proposed a question to him, to which he
was unable to reply. The king, willing to cover him with shame,
pronounced only one part of his name, and called him _ovos_, ass,
instead of Chronos. Diodorus was so much affected at this as to die soon
afterwards.

Perhaps there is not a more remarkable instance on record showing, in a
melancholy though forcible light, the dominion of mind over the material
frame, than the circumstances which attended the death of John Hunter.
This distinguished surgeon and physiologist died in a fit of enraged
passion; and, what is somewhat extraordinary, he had often predicted
that such excitement would prove fatal to him. He died at St. George's
Hospital, Oct. 16, 1793, under these circumstances: being there in the
exercise of his official duty as surgeon, he had a warm dispute with Dr.
Pearson, on a professional subject; upon which he said, "I must retire,
for I feel an agitation which will be fatal to me if I increase it." He
immediately withdrew into an adjoining room; but Dr. Pearson, not being
willing to give up his argument, followed him, which so annoyed Hunter,
that he vehemently exclaimed, "You have followed me on purpose to be
the death of me! You have murdered me!" and instantly fell and expired!
Mrs. Byron, the mother of the noble bard, is said to have died in a fit
of passion. Mr. Moore, in his life of Lord Byron, in speaking of Mrs.
Byron's illness, says,--"At the end of July her illness took a new and
fatal turn; and so sadly characteristic was the close of the poor lady's
life, that a fit of ague, brought on, it is said, by reading the
upholsterer's bills, was the ultimate cause of her death." A somewhat
similar circumstance is recorded of Malbranche. The only interview that
Bishop Berkley and Malbranche had was in the latter philosopher's cell,
when the conversation turned upon the non-existence of matter, and
Malbranche is said to have exerted himself so much in the discussion
that he died in consequence. Sanctorius relates an instance of a famous
orator, who so far exerted his mind in delivering an oration that he
became, in a few hours, quite insane.

The effect of a too close application of mind to study on the bodily
health has long been a matter of common observation. The Roman orator,
Cicero, points out forcibly the dangers arising from inordinate exertion
of mind; and he has laid down some rules for guarding against the
effects of study. M. Van Swieten, in alluding to this subject, relates
the case of a man whose health was severely injured, by what he calls
"literary watchings." Whenever he listened with any attention to any
story, or trifling tale, he was seized with giddiness; he was in violent
agonies whenever he wanted to recollect any thing which had slipped his
memory; he oftentimes fainted away gradually, and experienced a
disagreeable sensation of lassitude. Rousseau has very justly remarked,
that excessive application of mind "makes men tender, weakens their
constitutions, and when once the body has lost its powers, those of the
soul are not easily preserved. Application wears out the machine,
exhausts the spirits, destroys the strength, enervates the mind, makes
us pusillanimous, unable either to bear fatigue, or to keep our passions
under."[3]

Shakspeare appears to have formed a just conception of the great injury
which the corporeal frame experiences from a too close application of
mind. The immortal bard observes,--

  "----Universal plodding poisons up
  The nimble spirits in the arteries
  As motion and long-during action tires
  The sinewy vigour of the traveller."

_Love's Labour Lost._

In the consultations of Wesper we find related the history of a young
man of family 22 years of age, who, having applied himself incessantly
to intense mental exertion, was seized with a fit of insanity, in which
fit he wounded several persons and killed his keeper. Catalepsy has been
known to have been produced by great mental application. Fomelius gives
us a remarkable instance of it. A man (says he) who passed whole nights
in writing and studying, was suddenly attacked with a fit of catalepsy:
all his limbs stiffened in the attitude he was in when the disease first
seized him. He remained upon his seat, holding the pen in his hand, and
with his eyes fixed on his paper, so that he was considered to be still
at his studies, till being called to, and then shaken, he was found to
be without motion or sensation.[4]

Many extraordinary instances are on record, of remarkable changes having
been produced in birds by an affection of the animal passions. The
following fact is related by Mr. Young, in the Edinburgh Geographical
Journal. A blackbird had been frightened in her cage by a cat; when it
was relieved, it was found lying on its back, quite wet with
perspiration. The feathers fell off, and were renewed, but the new ones
were perfectly white.

A similar phenomenon has been observed in the human species, who have
been exposed to the effects of inordinate passion. Borrelli relates the
case of a French gentleman, who was thrown into prison, and on whom fear
operated so powerfully as to change his hair completely grey in the
course of one night. Dr. Darwin ascribes this phenomenon to the torpor
of the vessels, which circulates the fluids destined to nourish the
hair. Nothing will, perhaps, demonstrate more fully the effects of moral
causes in producing disease than the structural alterations discoverable
in the bodies of those who have died whilst labouring under nostalgia,
or the Swiss malady. This disease is considered peculiar to the Swiss,
and is occasioned by a desire of revisiting their own country, and of
witnessing again the scenes of their youth. This desire begins with
melancholy sadness, love of solitude, silence, bodily weakness, &c. and
is only cured by returning to their native country. Avenbrugger says,
that in dissecting the bodies of those who have died in consequence of
this disease, organic lesions of the heart generally are detected.
A particular musical composition, supposed to be expressive of the
happiness of the people, is in great vogue in Switzerland. If this tune
or piece of music is played among the Swiss in any foreign country, it
tends strongly to recall their affections for their native soil, and
their desire of returning, and to induce the desire called nostalgia
consequent on their disappointment. The effects of this musical
composition is so powerful, that it is forbidden to be repeated in the
French camp on pain of death, it having at one period had the effect of
producing a mutiny among the Swiss soldiers, at that time in the employ
of the French king.

Predictions of death, whether supposed to be supernatural, or emanating
from human authority, have often, in consequence of the poisonous
effects of fear, been punctually fulfilled. The anecdote is well
attested, of the licentious Lord Littleton, that he expired at the exact
stroke of the clock, which in a dream or vision, he had been forewarned
would be the signal of his departure. In Lesanky's voyage round the
world, there is an account of a religious sect in the Sandwich Islands,
who arrogate to themselves the power of praying people to death. Whoever
incurs their displeasure, receives notice that the homicide litany is
about to begin, and such are the effects of the imagination, that the
very notice is frequently sufficient with these people to produce the
effect.

Thousands of other instances might be cited, illustrative of the fatal
effects of inordinate indulgence in passion.


    [1] A cleverly conducted work containing more popular information
        on Medicine, Surgery, and what are termed the collateral sciences,
        than we are accustomed to find in a "professional" journal.

    [2] Rammazini.

    [3] Preface de Narcisse Oeuvres, Diverses, t. l. v. 172.

    [4] Pathol. lib. 3. cap. 2. Oper. Omm. p. 406.


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RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS.

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ANCIENT BRIDEWELL.[5]


The following curious facts, respecting the state of the metropolis
during the reign of Queen Elizabeth, are extracted from the weekly
reports made by William Fletewood, Recorder of London, to Lord
Burghley:--

"My singuler good Lord, uppon Thursdaye, at even, her Majistie, in her
coache, nere Islyngton, taking of the air, her Highnes was environed
with a nosmber of roogs. One Mr. Stone, a foteman, cam in all hast to
my Lord Maior, and after to me, and told us of the same. I dyd the same
nyght send warrants owt into the seyd quarters, and into Westminster and
the Duchie; and in the morning I went abrood my selff, and I tooke that
daye lxxiiij. roogs, whereof some were blynde, and yet great usurers,
and very rich; and the same daye, towards nyght, I sent Mr. Harrys and
Mr. Smithe, the Governors of Bridwell, and tooke all the names of the
roogs; and then sent theym from the Sessions Hall into Bridwell, where
they remayned that nyght. Uppon Twelff daye, in the forenoone, the
Master of the Rolls, my selff, and others, receyved a charge before my
Lords of the Counsell, as towching roogs and masterles men, and to have
a pryvie searche. The same daye, at after dyner (for I dyned at the
Rolls), I mett the Governors of Bridwell, and so that after nowne wee
examined all the seyd roogs, and gave them substanciall payment. And
the stronger wee bestowed on the myine and the lighters; the rest wee
dismyssed, with the promise of a dooble paye if we met with theym
agayne. Uppon Soundaye, being crastino of the Twelffth daye, I dyned
with Mr. Deane, of Westminster, where I conferred with hym touching
Westminster and the Duchie; and then I tooke order for Sowthwarke,
Lambeth, and Newyngton, from whence I receyved a shool of xl. roogs,
men and women, and above. I bestowed theym in Bridwell. I dyd the
same after nowne peruse Pooles (St. Paul's), where I tooke about xxii.
cloked roogs, that there used to kepe standing. I placed theym also in
Bridwell. The next mornyng, being Mundaye, the Mr of the Rolls and the
reste tooke order with the constables for a pryvie searche agaynst
Thursdaye, at nyght, and to have the offenders brought to the Sessions
Hall uppon Frydaye, in the mornyng, where wee the Justices shold mete.
And agaynst the same tyme, my Lo. Maior and I dyd the lyke in London and
Sowthwarke. The same after nowne, the Masters of Bridwell and I mett;
and after every man had been examined, eche one receyved his payment
according to his deserts; at whiche tyme the strongest were put to
worke, and the others dismissed into theyre countries. The same daye
the Mr of the Savoye was with us, and sayd he was sworne to lodge
'claudicantes, egrotantes, et peregrinantes;' and the next morning I
sent the constables of the Duchie to the Hospitall, and they brought
unto me at Bridwell, vj. tall fellowes, that were draymen unto bruers,
and were neither 'claudicantes, egrotantes, nor peregrinantes.' The
constables, if they might have had theyre owen wills, would have browght
us many moor. The master dyd wryte a very curtese letter unto us to
produce theym; and although he wrott charitably unto us, yet were they
all soundly paydd, and sent home to theyre masters. All Tewsdaye,
Weddensdaye, and Thursdaye, there cam in nosmbers of roogs: they were
rewarded all according to theyre deserts.--Uppon Frydaye mornyng, at the
Justice Hall, there were brought in above a C. lewd people taken in the
pryvie searche. The Mrs of Bridwell receyved theym, and immediately gave
theym punishment. This Satterdaye, after causes of consciens, herd by my
Lord Maior and me, I dyned and went to Polls (St. Paul's) and in other
places, as well within the libertes as elsewhere. I founde not one rooge
styuyng. Emongst all these thynges, I dyd note that wee had not of
London, Westm., nor Sowthwarke, nor yett Midd., nor Surr., above twelve,
and those we have taken order for. The resedew for the most were of
Wales, Salop, Cestr., Somerset, Barks, Oxforde, and Essex; and that few
or none of theym had been about London above iij. or iiij. mownthes.
I did note also that wee mett not agayne with any, in all our searches,
that had receyved punishment. The chieff nurserie of all these evill
people is the Savoye, and the brick-kilnes near Islyngton. As for the
brick-kilnes, we will take suche order that they shall be reformed; and
I trust, by yr. good Lordship's help, the Savoye shall be amended; for
surelie, as by experiens I fynd it, the same place, as it is used, is
not converted to a good use or purpose. And this shall suffice for
roogs."--W.G.C.

    [5] See the Engraving, vol. xviii. p. 337 of _The Mirror._


       *       *       *       *       *


POVERTY OF KINGS, AND THE BRITISH CROWN PAWNED.

As to increasing wealth by war, that has never yet happened to this
nation; and, I believe, rarely to any country. Our former kings most
engaged in war were always poor, and sometimes excessively so. Edward
III. pawned his jewels to pay foreign forces; and _magnam coronam
Angliae_, his imperial crown, three several times--once abroad, and
twice to Sir John Wosenham, his banker, in whose custody the crown
remained no less than eight years. The Black Prince, as Walsingham
informs us, was constrained to pledge his plate. Henry V., with all his
conquests, pawned his crown, and the table and stools of silver which he
had from Spain. Queen Elizabeth is known to have sold her very jewels.

G.K.

       *       *       *       *       *


HEAD-DRESS OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY, IN ENGLAND.


In Wickliffe's _Commentaries upon the Ten Commandments_, in the
midst of a moral exhortation, he manages, by a few bold touches, to give
us a picture of the fashionable head-dress of his day:--

"And let each woman beware, that neither by countenance, nor by array of
body nor of head, she stir any to covet her to sin. Not crooking
(curling) her hair, neither laying it up on high, nor the head arrayed
about with gold and precious stones; not seeking curious clothing, nor
of nice shape, showing herself to be seemly to fools. For all such
arrays of women St. Peter and St. Paul, by the Holy Ghost's teaching,
openly forbid."

D.P.

       *       *       *       *       *


SALADS.


Oil for salads is mentioned in the Paston Letters, in 1466, in which
year Sir John Paston writes to his mother, that he has sent her "ii.
potts off oyl for salady's, whyche oyl was goode a myght be when he
delyv'yd yt, and schuld be goode at the reseyving yff itt was not
mishandled nor miscarryd." This indicates that vegetables for the table
were then cultivated in England, although the common opinion is, that
most of our fruit and garden productions were destroyed during the civil
wars between the houses of York and Lancaster. A good salad, however,
had become so scarce some years afterwards, that Katharine, the queen of
Henry VIII., is said, on a particular occasion, to have sent to the
continent to procure one.

D.P.

       *       *       *       *       *


ADVERTISEMENT OF THE OPENING OF THE LONDON COFFEE HOUSE, UPWARDS OF A
CENTURY AGO.

"May, 1731.

"Whereas it is customary for Coffee Houses and other Public Houses to
take 8_s._ for a quart of Arrack, and 6_s._ for a quart of Brandy or
Rum, made into Punch;

_This is to give Notice_,

That James Ashley has opened, on Ludgate Hill, the London Coffee House,
Punch House, Dorchester Beer and Welsh Ale Warehouse, where the finest
and best old Arrack, Rum, and French Brandy is made into Punch, with the
other of the finest ingredients--viz.:

"A quart of Arrack made into Punch for six shillings; and so in
proportion to the smallest quantity, which is half-a-quartern for
fourpence halfpenny.

"A quart of Rum or Brandy made into Punch for four shillings; and so in
proportion to the smallest quantity, which is half-a-quartern for
threepence; and Gentlemen may have it as soon made as a gill of wine can
be drawn."

G.K.

       *       *       *       *       *


SIR WILLIAM JONES'S PLAN OF STUDY.


Some idea of the acquirements of the resolute industry with which Jones
pursued his studies may be formed from the following memorandum:--

"Resolved to learn no more _rudiments_ of any kind, but to perfect
myself in--first, twelve languages, as the _means_ of acquiring
accurate knowledge of

  I. History.
  1. Man 2. Nature.

  II. Arts.
  1. Rhetoric. 2. Poetry. 3. Painting. 4. Music.

  III. Sciences.
  1. Law. 2. Mathematics. 3. Dialectics.


"N.B. Every species of human knowledge may be reduced to one or other of
these divisions. Even _law_ belongs partly to the history of man,
partly as a science to dialectics. The twelve languages are Greek,
Latin, Italian, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Hebrew, Arabic, Persian,
Turkish, German, English.--1780."

       *       *       *       *       *




SPIRIT OF DISCOVERY.

       *       *       *       *       *


SAILING UP THE ESSEQUIBO.

_By Captain J.E. Alexander, H.P., late 16th Lancers, M.R.G.S., &c._


My purpose was now to proceed up the noble Essequibo river towards
the El Dorado of Sir Walter Raleigh, and view the mighty forests of
the interior, and the varied and beautiful tribes by which they are
inhabited. Our residence on the island of Wakenaam had been truly
a tropical one. During the night, the tree frogs, crickets,
razor-grinders, reptiles, and insects of every kind, kept up a continued
concert. At sunrise, when the flowers unfolded themselves, the humming
birds, with the metallic lustre glittering on their wings, passed
rapidly from blossom to blossom. The bright yellow and black
mocking-birds flew from their pendant nests, accompanied by their
neighbours, the wild bees, which construct their earthen hives on the
same tree. The continued rains had driven the snakes from their holes,
and on the path were seen the bush-master (cona-couchi) unrivalled for
its brilliant colours, and the deadly nature of its poison; and the
labari equally poisonous, which erects its scales in a frightful manner
when irritated. The rattlesnake was also to be met with, and harmless
tree snakes of many species. Under the river's bank lay enormous caymen
or alligators,--one lately killed measured twenty-two feet. Wild deer
and the peccari hog were seen in the glades in the centre of the island;
and the jaguar and cougour (the American leopard and lion) occasionally
swam over from the main land.

We sailed up the Essequibo for a hundred miles in a small schooner of
thirty tons, and occasionally took to canoes or coorials to visit the
creeks. We then went up a part of the Mazaroony river, and saw also the
unexplored Coioony: these three rivers join their waters about one
hundred miles from the mouth of the Essequibo. In sailing or paddling up
the stream, the breadth is so great, and the wooded islands so numerous,
that it appears as if we navigated a large lake. The Dutch in former
times had cotton, indigo, and cocoa estates up the Essequibo, beyond
their capital Kykoveral, on an island at the forks or junction of the
three rivers. Now, beyond the islands at the mouth of the Essequibo
there are no estates, and the mighty forest has obliterated all traces
of former cultivation. Solitude and silence are on either hand, not a
vestige of the dwellings of the Hollanders being to be seen; and only
occasionally in struggling through the entangled brushwood one stumbles
over a marble tombstone brought from the shores of the Zuyderzee.

At every turn of the river we discovered objects of great interest.
The dense and nearly impenetrable forest itself occupied our chief
attention; magnificent trees, altogether new to us, were anchored to
the ground by bush-rope, convolvuli, and parasitical plants of every
variety. The flowers of these cause the woods to appear as if hung with
garlands. Pre-eminent above the others was the towering and majestic
Mora, its trunk spread out into buttresses; on its top would be seen
the king of the vultures expanding his immense wings to dry after the
dews of night. The very peculiar and romantic cry of the bell-bird, or
campanero, would be heard at intervals; it is white, about the size of a
pigeon, with a leathery excrescence on its forehead, and the sound which
it produces in the lone woods is like that of a convent-bell tolling.

A crash of the reeds and brushwood on the river's bank would be followed
by a tapir, the western elephant, coming down to drink and to roll
himself in the mud; and the manati or river-cow would lift its black
head and small piercing eye above the water to graze on the leaves of
the coridore tree. They are shot from a stage fixed in the water, with
branches of their favourite food hanging from it; one of twenty-two cwt.
was killed not long ago. High up the river, where the alluvium of the
estuary is changed for white sandstone, with occasionally black oxide of
manganese, the fish are of delicious flavour; among others, the pacoo,
near the Falls or Rapids, which is flat, twenty inches long, and weighs
four pounds; it feeds on the seed of the _arum arborescens_, in
devouring which the Indians shoot it with their arrows: of similar genus
are the cartuback, waboory, and amah.

The most remarkable fish of these rivers are, the _peri_ or
_omah_, two feet long; its teeth and jaws are so strong, that it
cracks the shells of most nuts to feed on their kernels, and is most
voracious; the Indians say that it snaps off the breasts of women, and
emasculates men. Also the genus _silurus_, the young of which swim
in a shoal of one hundred and fifty over the head of the mother, who, on
the approach of danger, opens her mouth, and thus saves her progeny;
with the _loricaria calicthys_, or _assa_, which constructs a
nest on the surface of pools from the blades of grass floating about,
and in this deposits its spawn which is hatched by the sun. In the dry
season this remarkable fish has been dug out of the ground, for it
burrows in the rains owing to the strength and power of the spine; in
the gill-fin and body it is covered with strong plates, and far below
the surface finds moisture to keep it alive. The _electric eel_ is
also an inhabitant of these waters, and has sometimes nearly proved
fatal to the strongest swimmer. If sent to England in tubs, the wood
and iron act as conductors, and keep the fish in a continued state of
exhaustion, causing, eventually, death: an earthenware jar is the vessel
in which to keep it in health.

(_To be concluded in our next._)

       *       *       *       *       *




FINE ARTS.

       *       *       *       *       *


CROSSES.[6]

[Illustration: Neville's Cross.]

We resume the illustration of these curious structures with two
specimens of interesting architectural character, and memorable
association with our early history. The first is Neville's Cross,
at Beaurepaire (or Bear Park, as it is now called), about two miles
north-west from Durham. Here David II., King of Scots, encamped with his
army before the celebrated battle of Red Hills, or Neville's Cross, as
it was afterwards termed, from the above elegant stone cross, erected to
record the victory by Lord Ralph Neville. The English sovereign, Edward
III., had just achieved the glorious conquest of Crecy; and the Scottish
king judged this a fit opportunity for his invasion. However, "the great
northern barons of England, Percy and Neville, Musgrave, Scope, and
Hastings, assembled their forces in numbers sufficient to show that,
though the conqueror of Crecy, with his victorious army, was absent
in France, there were Englishmen enough left at home to protect the
frontiers of his kingdom from violation. The Archbishops of Canterbury
and York, the prelates of Durham, Carlisle, and Lincoln, sent their
retainers, and attended the rendezvous in person, to add religious
enthusiasm to the patriotic zeal of the barons. Ten thousand soldiers,
who had been sent over to Calais to reinforce Edward III.'s army, were
countermanded in this exigency, and added to the northern army.[7]"

The battle, which was fought October 17, 1346, lasted only three hours,
but was uncommonly destructive. The English archers, who were in front,
were at first thrown into confusion, and driven back; but being
reinforced by a body of horse, repulsed their opponents, and the
engagement soon became general. The Scottish army was entirely defeated,
and the king himself made prisoner; though previous to the fight he is
said to have regarded the English with contempt, and as a raw and
undisciplined host, by no means competent to resist the power of his
more hardy veterans.

"Amid repeated charges, and the most dispiriting slaughter by the
continuous discharge of the English arrows, David showed that he had the
courage, though not the talents, of his father (Robert Bruce). He was
twice severely wounded with arrows, but continued to encourage to the
last the few of his peers and officers who were still fighting around
him."[8] He scorned to ask quarter, and was taken alive with difficulty.
Rymer says, "The Scotch king, though he had two spears hanging in his
body, his leg desperately wounded, and being disarmed, his sword having
been beaten out of his hand, disdained captivity, and provoked the
English by opprobrious language to kill him. When John Copeland, who was
governor of Roxborough Castle, advised him to yield, he struck him on
the face with his gauntlet so fiercely, that he knocked out two of his
teeth. Copeland conveyed him out of the field as his prisoner. Upon
Copeland's refusing to deliver up his royal captive to the queen
(Philippa), who stayed at Newcastle during the battle, the king sent for
him to Calais, where he excused his refusal so handsomely, that the king
sent him back with a reward of 500_l._ a year in lands, where he
himself should choose it, near his own dwelling, and made him a knight
banneret."[9]

Hume states Philippa to have assembled a body of little more than 12,000
men, and to have rode through the ranks of her army, exhorting every man
to do his duty, and to take revenge on these barbarous ravagers. "Nor
could she be persuaded to leave the field till the armies were on the
point of engaging. The Scots have often been unfortunate in the great
pitched battles which they have fought with the English: even though
they commonly declined such engagements where the superiority of numbers
was not on their side; but never did they receive a more fatal blow than
the present. They were broken and chased off the field: fifteen thousand
of them, some historians say twenty thousand, were slain; among whom
were Edward Keith, Earl Mareschal, and Sir Thomas Charteris, Chancellor:
and the king himself was taken prisoner, with the Earls of Sutherland,
Fife, Monteith, Carrick, Lord Douglas, and many other noblemen." The
captive king was conveyed to London, and afterwards in solemn procession
to the Tower, attended by a guard of 20,000 men, and all the city
companies in complete pageantry; while "Philippa crossed the sea at
Dover, and was received in the English camp before Calais, with all the
triumph due to her rank, her merit, and her success." These indeed were
bright days of chivalry and gallantry.

"The ground whereon the battle was fought," say the topographers of the
county,[10] "is about one mile west from Durham; it is hilly, and in some
parts very steep, particularly towards the river. Near it, in a deep
vale, is a small mount, or hillock, called the _Maiden's Bower_, on
which the holy Corporex Cloth, wherewith St. Cuthbert covered the
chalice when he used to say mass, was displayed on the point of a spear,
by the monks of Durham, who, when the victory was obtained, gave notice
by signal to their brethren stationed on the great tower of the
Cathedral, who immediately proclaimed it to the inhabitants of the city,
by singing Te Deum. From that period the victory was annually
commemorated in a similar manner by the choristers, till the occurrence
of the Civil Wars, when the custom was discontinued; but again revived
on the Restoration," and observed till nearly the close of the last
century.

The site of the Cross is by the road-side: it was defaced and broken
down in the year 1589. Its pristine beauty is thus minutely described in
Davis's _Rights and Monuments_: "On the west side of the city of
Durham, where two roads pass each other, a most famous and elegant cross
of stone work was erected to the honour of God, &c. at the sole cost of
Ralph, Lord Neville, which cross had seven steps about it, every way
squared to the socket wherein the stalk of the cross stood, which socket
was fastened to a large square stone; the sole, or bottom stone being of
a great thickness, viz. a yard and a half every way: this stone was the
eighth step. The stalk of the cross was in length three yards and a half
up to the boss, having eight sides all of one piece; from the socket it
was fixed into the boss above, into which boss the stalk was deeply
soldered with lead. In the midst of the stalk, in every second square,
was the Neville's cross; a saltire in a scutcheon, being Lord Neville's
arms, finely cut; and, at every corner of the socket, was a picture of
one of the four Evangelists, finely set forth and carved. The boss at
the top of the stalk was an octangular stone, finely cut and bordered,
and most curiously wrought; and in every square of the nether side
thereof was Neville's Cross, in one square, and the bull's head in the
next, so in the same reciprocal order about the boss. On the top of the
boss was a stalk of stone, (being a cross a little higher than the
rest,) whereon was cut, on both sides of the stalk, the picture of our
Saviour Christ, crucified; the picture of the Blessed Virgin on one
side, and St. John the Evangelist on the other; both standing on the top
of the boss. All which pictures were most artificially wrought together,
and finely carved out of one entire stone; some parts thereof, though
carved work, both on the east and west sides, with a cover of stone
likewise over their heads, being all most finely and curiously wrought
together out of the same hollow stone, which cover had a covering of
lead."

[Illustration: (_Percy's Cross_.)]

The second specimen (_see the Cut_) stands by the side of the
highway over Hedgeley Moor, in the adjoining county of Northumberland.
This Cross is a record of the War of the Roses. Here, in one of the
skirmishes preliminary to the celebrated victory at Hexham (May 12,
1464), Sir Ralph Percy was slain, by Lord Montacute, or Montague, brother
to the Earl of Warwick, and warden of the east marches between Scotland
and England. His dying words are stated to have been, "I have saved the
bird in my breast:" meaning his faith to his party. The memorial is a
square stone pillar, embossed with the arms of Percy and Lucy: they are
nearly effaced by time, though the personal valour of the hero is
written in the less perishable page of history.

The Nevilles are distinguished personages in the pages of the historians
of the North. In Durham they have left a lasting memorial of their
magnificence in Raby Castle, the principal founder of which was John de
Neville, Earl of Westmoreland; who, in 1379, obtained a license to
castellate his manor of Raby; though a part of the structure appears to
have been of more ancient date. Leland speaks of it in his time as "the
largest castle of lodgings in all the north country." It remains to this
day the most perfect castellated mansion, or, more strictly, castle, in
the kingdom, and its "_hall_" eclipses even the chivalrous
splendour of Windsor: here 700 knights, who held of the Nevilles, are
said to have been entertained at one time. The whole establishment is
maintained with much of the hospitable glories of the olden time by the
present distinguished possessor of Raby, the Marquess of Cleveland.

    [6] See also pages 113 and 329 of the present volume.

    [7] Hist. Scot. By Sir W. Scott, Bt., vol. i, p. 197.

    [8] Ibid. p. 199.

    [9] Faedera, tom. v. p. 542.

    [10] Messrs Britton and Brayley--Beauties of England and Wales,
         vol. v. p. 199.


       *       *       *       *       *


WINTER EXHIBITION OF PICTURES, AT THE SUFFOLK-STREET GALLERY.

(_Concluded from page_ 231.)


144. Landscape and Figures. The first by _Gainsborough_; the latter
by _Morland_.

145. The Body of Harold discovered by Swanachal and two Monks, the
morning after the Battle of Hastings. _A.J. Woolmer._ A picture of
some, and not undeserved, distinction in a previous exhibition.

150. Mr. King and Mrs. Jordan in the "Country Girl." _R. Smirke,
R.A._ The drawing is easy and natural, but the colouring appears to
us deficient in tone and breadth.

153. View of the River Severn near the New Passage House.
_Nasmyth._ A delightful scene in what we may call the artist's
best, or _crisp_ style.

157. Puppy and Frog. _E. Landseer, R.A._ In the most vigorous style
of our best animal painter.

163. A State Quarry. _De Loutherbourg._

165--167. Portraits of Worlidge and Mortimer. Painted by themselves.

172. Villa of Maecenas. One of _Wilson's_ most celebrated
compositions, of classic fame.

181. Master's Out, "The Disappointed Dinner Party." _R.W. Buss._ A
scene of cockney mortification humorously treated.--An unlucky Londoner
and his tawdrily-dressed wife, appeared to have toiled up the hill, with
their family of four children, to a friend's cottage, the door of which
is opened by an old housekeeper, with "Master's out," while the host
himself is peeping over the parlour window-blind at the disappointment
of his would-be visitors. The annoyance of the husband at the
inhospitable answer, and the fatigue of his fine wife, are cleverly
managed; while the mischievous pranks of the urchin family among the
borders of the flower-garden remind us of the pleasant "Inconveniences
of a Convenient Distance." The colouring is most objectionable; though
the flowers and fine clothes are very abundant.

194. Falls of Niagara. _Wilson._ A sublime picture of this terrific
wonder of the world.

196. Erzelin Bracciaferro musing over Meduna, slain by him for
disloyalty during his absence in the Holy Land. _Fuseli._ A
composition of touching melancholy, such as none but a master-mind could
approach.

199. The late R.W. Elliston, Esq. One of _Harlow's_ best portraits:
the likeness is admirable, and the tone well accords with Elliston's
unguent, supple expression.

204. Portrait of Dr. Wardrope. _Raeburn._ This is one of the
artist's finest productions: it is clever, manly, and vigorous--painting
to the life, without the flattering unction of varnished canvass. The
fine, broad, bold features of the sitter were excellently adapted to the
artist's peculiar powers.

205. Portrait of Thomson, the Poet. _Hogarth._ The well-known
picture. How fond poets of the last century were of their
_dishabille_ in portraits: they had their day as well as nightcaps.

217. Johnny Gilpin. _Stothard._ This lively composition is well
known, as it deserves to be; but it may not so well be remembered that
the popularity of John Gilpin was founded by a clever lecturer, who
recited the "tale in verse" as part of his entertainment. (_See page
367._) What would an audience of the present day say to such
puerility; though it would be certainly more rational than people
listening to a French play, or an Italian or German opera, not a line of
which they understand.

229. Portrait of R.B. Sheridan. The well-known picture, by
_Reynolds_, whence is engraved the Frontispiece to Moore's Life of
the Statesman and Dramatist. Here is the "man himsel," in the formal cut
blue dress-coat and white waistcoat of the last century. The face may
be accounted handsome: the cheeks are full, and, with the nose, are
rubicund--_Bacchi tincti_; the eyes are black and brilliantly
expressive;--and the visiter should remember that Sir Joshua Reynolds,
in painting this portrait, is said to have affirmed that their pupils
were larger than those of any human being he had ever met with. They
retained their beauty to the last, though the face did not, and the body
became bent. How much it is to be regretted that Sheridan with such fine
eyes had so little foresight. There is in the gallery a younger portrait
of him, in a stage or masquerade dress, which is unworthy of comparison
with the preceding.

231. Scene in Covent Garden Market. One of the best views of the old
place, by _Hogarth_; and one of the last sketches before the recent
improvements, will he found in _The Mirror_, vol. xiii. p. 121. By
the way, the pillar and ball, which stood in the centre of the square,
and are seen in the present picture, were long in the garden of John
Kemble, in Great Russell-street, Bloomshury.

243. Portrait of the late Mr. Holcroft. _Dawe._ In this early
performance of the artist, we in vain seek for the "best looks" of the
sitter: such as the painter threw into his portraits of crowned heads.

248. The Happy Marriage. An _unfinished_ picture by _Hogarth_;
yet how beautifully is some of the distant grouping made out;--what life
and reality too in the figures, and the whole composition, though seen,
as it were, through a mist.

249. Study of a Head from Nature, painted by lamp-light. _Harlow._
A curious vagary of genius.

258. Daughter of Sir Peter Lely. _Lely._ We take this to be the
oldest picture in the gallery. Lely has been dead upwards of a century
and a half.

263. One of _Lawrence's_ Portraits of himself.

286. Sir John Falstaff at Gad's Hill. _T. Stothard_, R.A. The
figure has not the fleshy rotundity of the Falstaff of Shakspeare; he is
like a half-stuffed actor in the part.

298. Portrait of the late King when Prince of Wales. _Lawrence._
The features at this period were remarkably handsome; and considering
the influence of pre-eminence in birth, the expression is not
over-tinged with _hauteur_. No persons have their portraits so
frequently painted as princes; and the artist who has the fortune to
paint them at all ages, as Lawrence did, must watch their personal
changes with reflective interest, though he may confine them to the
tablet of his memory. What an interval between the youthful vigour of
the above portrait of the Prince and the artist's last, fine
whole-length of the King, in dignified ease, on the sofa! Alas! lines
increase in our faces as they do in the imperfect maps of a
newly-discovered country.

313 and 228. Two Landscapes, by _Lawrence_, reminding us how
strongly the artist's genius was fettered by public taste in Kneller's
profitable glory of painting "the living."

In the _Water-colour Room_, are many interesting productions, and
some curiosities in their way. We have Paul Sandby and the quaintly
precise Capon beside Glover and Landseer--so that the drawings are as
motley as the paintings. Here also are Lawrence's inimitable chalk
portraits of his present Majesty and the Duke of Wellington, which show
us how much true genius can accomplish in a few lines.

       *       *       *       *       *


SCHOOL OF PAINTING AT THE BRITISH INSTITUTION.

(_From a Correspondent_.)


The present school of painting commenced on the 17th of September, and
the students, as usual, have made numerous attempts to copy the
inimitable examples of art which have been selected for their
improvement. The selections consist of specimens from the Italian,
Flemish, Dutch, and English schools, and afford ample variety, in style
and subject, for the different tastes of the students. We are sorry to
state, however, that only a very few copies can be selected as
possessing a fair resemblance to the superb originals. We proceed to
notice those who deserve the most praise:--

_Gainsborough's_ Milk Girl is a most happy production of the
pencil: the figure possesses great infantile beauty; and the landscape
is rural, and in perfect harmony with the subject. This work has been
cleverly copied by Messrs. Sargeant and Lilley in oil, and by Miss Fanny
Corbaux in water-colour.

An Advocate in his Study--_Ostade_: an exquisitely finished cabinet
picture. The expression in the advocate's face is excellent, and the
various objects in his study are in proper keeping with his calling. The
copy by Mr. Novice is excellent; and those of Messrs. Robson and Higham
display great ability, though they are not sufficiently finished.

A Sea-shore, attributed to _Backhuysen_, has been studied by Mr.
Dujardin.

Landscape--_Gaspar Poussin._ This great master admirably delineated
the grandeur of Italian scenery, and invariably chose to represent it
when the clouds forboded a storm, or when other accidental effects of
nature added to the sublimity of the occasion. We generally experience a
kind of awe while contemplating his works; and this feeling is excited
by the _chef d'oeuvre_ before us. Several students have attempted
it in oil; and Messrs. Musgrave, Burbank, and Taylor have copied it in
water-colour.

Messrs. Marks, Sargeant, and Foster deserve notice for their studies
from a Landscape with Figures, by _Waterloo_; and a charming
picture by _Albert Cuyp_, representing a wide champaign country,
with some well-executed figures in the foreground, has engaged the
talents of Messrs. Hilder, Child, and Stanley.

_Guido's_ Magdalen has been beautifully copied, on a small scale,
by Mr. Emmerson; and St. Martin dividing his Garments, by _Rubens_,
has met with successful imitators in the pencils of Messrs. Middleton
and Buss. These gentlemen's copies, however, are considerably smaller
than the original, which is of the dimensions of life.

The Water Mill, a brilliant little picture by _Ruysdael_, has
employed the pencils of several students;--among the most successful of
whom are Messrs. Stark, Lee, and Hilder.

View on the Grand Canal, Venice, by _Canaletti_: this is, perhaps,
the _ne plus ultra_ of the master, and is the property of that
distinguished patron of the fine arts--Lord Farnborough. Miss Dujardin
has produced the best copy: she has painted the buildings, boats, &c.,
with considerable accuracy, and has succeeded in imitating the
transparency of the water. Miss Cook and Mr. Fowler have also copied
this work.

Miss F. Corbaux (in water-colour), and Messrs. Sargeant, Robson,
Simpson, and Lilley (in oil), have well copied the Cupid by _Sir J.
Reynolds_; and Messrs. Fussel, Hilder, Sims, and Hoffland, deserve
praise for their copies from a Dutch Village, by _Ruysdael_. A Corn
Field, by the same master, appears to have been carefully studied by
Messrs. Lee and Novice.

To conclude: A spirited series of small views in Venice, by
_Guardi_, have been prettily imitated by Mr. Sargeant and Miss
Dujardin.

G.W.N.

       *       *       *       *       *




THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

       *       *       *       *       *


SCRAPS FROM THE DIARY OF A TRAVELLER.

_Rome_.


  If e'er you have seen an artist sketching
    The purlicus of this ancient city,
  I need not tell you how much stretching
    There is of _truth_, to make things pretty;--
  How trees are brought, perforce, together,
    Where never tree was known to grow:
  And founts condemned to trickle, whether
    There's water for said founts or no;--
  How ev'n the wonder of the Thane
    In sketching all its wonder loses,
  As woods _will_ come to Dunsinane,
    Or any where the sketcher chooses.

  For instance, if an artist see,--
  As at romantic Tivoli,--
  A water-fall and ancient shrine,
    Beautiful both, but not so plac'd
  As that his pencil can combine
    Their features in one _whole_ with taste,--
  What does he do? why, without scruple,
  He whips the Temple up, as supple
  As were those angels who (no doubt)
  Carried the Virgin's House[11] about,--
  And lands it plump upon the brink
    Of the cascade, or whersoever
  It suits his plaguy taste to think
    'Twill look most picturesque and clever!

  In short, there's no end to the treacheries
  Of man or maid who once a sketcher is,
  The livelier, too, their fancies are,
    The more they'll falsify each spot;
  As any dolt can give what's _there_,
    But men of genius give what's _not_.
  Then come your travellers, false as they,--
  All Piranesis, in their way;
  Eking out bits of truth with fallacies,
  And turning pig-stys into palaces.
  But, worst of all, that wordy tribe,
  Who sit down, hang them, to _describe_;

  Who, if they can but make things fine,
    Have consciences by no means tender
  In sinking all that, will not shine,
    All vulgar facts, that spoil their splendour:--
  As Irish country squires they say,
    Whene'er the Viceroy travels nigh,
  Compound with beggars, on the way,
    To be lock'd up, till he goes by;
  And so send back his Lordship marvelling,
  That Ireland should be deem'd so starveling.

  This cant, for instance,--how profuse 'tis
  Over the classic page of E----e!
  Veiling the truth in such fine phrase,
    That we for poetry might take it,
  Were it not dull as prose, and praise,
    And endless elegance can make it.--T. MOORE.


_Metropolitan_.

    [11] The Santa Casa.


       *       *       *       *       *


ASMODEUS IN LONDON.

(_From the New Monthly Magazine_.)


I was alone with Sleep.

       *       *       *       *       *

I woke with a singular sense of feebleness and exhaustion, and turning
my dizzy eyes---beheld the walls and furniture of my own chamber in
London. Asmodeus was seated by my side reading a Sunday newspaper--his
favourite reading.

"Ah!" said I, stretching myself with so great an earnestness, that I
believed at first my stature had been increased by the malice of the
Wizard, and that I stretched from one end of the room to the other--"Ah!
dear Asmodeus, how pleasant it is to find myself on earth again! After
all, these romantic wonders only do for a short time. Nothing like
London when one has been absent from it upon a Syntax search after the
Picturesque!"

"London is indeed a charming place,"--said the Devil--"all our
fraternity are very fond of it--it is the custom for the Parisians to
call it dull. What an instance of the vanity of patriotism--there is
vice enough in it to make any reasonable man cheerful."

"Yes: the gaiety of Paris is really a delusion. How poor its shops--how
paltry its equipages--how listless its crowds--compared with those of
London! If it was only for the pain in walking their accursed stones,
sloping down to a river in the middle of the street--all sense of idle
enjoyment would be spoilt. But in London--'the hum, the stir, the din of
men'--the activity and flush of life everywhere--the brilliant
shops--the various equipages--the signs of luxury, wealth, restlessness,
that meet you on all sides--give a much more healthful and vigorous
bound to the spirits, than the indolent loungers of the Tuileries,
spelling a thrice-read French paper which contains nothing, or sitting
on chairs by the hour together, unwilling to stir because they have paid
a penny for the seat--ever enjoy. O! if London would seem gay after
Paris, how much more so after a visit to the interior of the Earth.
And what is the news, my Asmodeus?"

"The Theatres have re-opened. Apropos of them--I will tell you a fine
instance of the futility of human ambition. Mr. Monck Mason took the
King's Theatre, saith report--(which is the creed of devils)--in order
to bring out an opera of his own, which Mr. Laporte, with a very
uncourteous discretion, had thought fit to refuse. The season
passes--and Mr. Monck Mason has ruined himself without being able to
bring out his opera after all! What a type of speculation. A speculator
is one who puts a needle in a hay-stack, and then burns all his hay
without finding the needle. It is hard to pay too dear for one's
whistle--but still more hard if one never plays a tune on the whistle
one pays for. Still the world has lost a grand pleasure in not seeing
damned an Opera written by the Manager of the Opera-house,--it would
have been such a consolation to all the rejected operatives,--it would
have been the prettiest hardship entailed on a great man ever since the
time of that speaker who was forced himself to put the question whether
he had been guilty of bribery, and should be expelled the House, and had
the pleasure of hearing the Ayes predominate. _Je me mête_ with the
affairs of the Theatre--they are in my diabolic province, you know. But
if the stage be the fosterer of vice, as you know it is said, vice just
at this moment in England has very unattractive colours."

"Ah, wait till we break the monopoly. But even now have we not the
'Hunchback?'

"Yes; the incarnation of the golden mediocre: a stronger proof, by the
hyperbolic praise it receives, of the decline of the drama than even the
abundance of trash from which it gleams. Anything at all decent from a
new dramatic author will obtain success far more easily than much higher
merit, in another line; literary rivalship not having yet been directed
much towards the stage, there are not literary jealousies resolved and
united against a dramatist's as against a poet's or a novelist's
success. Every one can praise those pretensions, however humble, which
do not interfere with his own."

"It is very true; there is never any very great merit, at least in a new
author, when you don't hear the abuse louder than the admiration. And
now, Asmodeus, with your leave, I will prepare for breakfast, and our
morning's walk."

"Oh, dear, dear London, dear even in October! Regent-street, I salute
you!--Bond-street, my good fellow, how are you? And you, O beloved
Oxford-street! whom the 'Opium Eater' called 'stony-hearted,' and whom
I, eating no opium, and speaking as I find, shall ever consider the
most kindly and maternal of all streets--the street of the middle
classes--busy without uproar, wealthy without ostentation. Ah, the
pretty ancles that trip along thy pavement! Ah, the odd country
cousin-bonnets that peer into thy windows, which are lined with cheap
yellow shawls, price £1. 4s. marked in the corner! Ah, the brisk young
lawyers flocking from their quarters at the back of Holborn! Ah, the
quiet old ladies, living in Duchess-street, and visiting thee with their
eldest daughters in the hope of a bargain! Ah, the bumpkins from Norfolk
just disgorged by the Bull and Mouth--the soldiers--the milliners--the
Frenchmen--the swindlers, the porters with four-post beds on their back,
who add the excitement of danger to that of amusement! The various,
shifting, motley group, that belong to Oxford-street, and Oxford-street
alone. What thoroughfares equal thee in variety of human specimens! in
the choice of objects--for remark--satire--admiration! Beside the other
streets seem chalked out for a sect,--narrow-minded and devoted to a
_coterie_. Thou alone art Catholic--all receiving. Regent-street
belongs to foreigners, cigars, and ladies in red silk, whose characters
are above scandal. Bond-street belongs to dandies and picture-buyers.
St. James's to club-loungers, and young men in the Guards, with
mustachios properly blackened by the _cire_ of Mr. Delcroix; but
thou, Oxford-street, what class can especially claim thee as its own?
Thou mockest at oligarchies; thou knowest nothing of select orders!
Thou art liberal as air--a chartered libertine! accepting the homage
of all, and retaining the stamp of none. And to call _thee_
stony-hearted!--certainly thou art so to beggars--to people who have not
the WHEREWITHAL; but thou wouldst not be so respectable if thou wert not
capable of a certain reserve to paupers. Thou art civil enough, in all
conscience, to those who have a shilling in their pocket;--those who
have not, why do they live at all?"

"That's not exactly what surprises me," said Asmodeus; "I don't wonder
_why_ they live, but _where_ they live: for I perceive boards
in every parish proclaiming that no vagrant--that is, no person who is
too poor to pay for his lodging--will be permitted to stay there. Where
then does he stay?--every parish unites against him--not a spot of
ground is lawful for him to stand on. At length he is passed on to
his own parish; the meaning of which is, that not finding a decent
livelihood in one place, the laws prevent his seeking it at any other.
By the way, it would not be a bad plan to substitute a vagrant for a
fox, and, to hunt him regularly, you might hunt him with a pack of
respectable persons belonging to the middle class, and eat him when he's
caught. That would be the shortest way to get rid of the race. You might
proclaim a reward for every vagrant's head: it would gain the King more
honour with the rate-payers than clearing the country of wolves won to
his predecessor. What wolf eats so much as a beggar? What wolf so
troublesome, so famished, and so good for nothing? People are quite
right in judging a man's virtue by his wealth; for when a man has not a
shilling he soon grows a rogue. He must live on his wits, and a man's
wits have no conscience when his stomach is empty. We are all very poor
in Hell--very; if we were rich, Satan says, justly, that we should
become idle."

I know not how it is, but my frame is one peculiarly susceptible to
ennui. There's no man so instantaneously bored. What activity does this
singular constitution in all cases produce! All who are sensitive to
ennui do eight times the work of a sleek, contented man. Anything but a
large chair by the fireside, and a family circle! Oh! the bore of going
every day over the same exhausted subjects, to the same dull persons of
respectability; yet that is the doom of all domesticity. Then
_pleasure_! A wretched play--a hot opera, under the ghostly
fathership of Mr. Monck Mason--a dinner of sixteen, with such silence
or _such_ conversation!--a water-party to Richmond, to catch cold
and drink bad sauterne--a flirtation, which fills all your friends with
alarm, and your writing-desk with love-letters you don't like to burn,
and are afraid of being seen; nay, published, perhaps, one fine day,
that you may go by some d----d pet name ever afterwards!--hunting in a
thick mist--shooting in furze bushes, that "feelingly persuade you what
you are"--"the bowl," as the poets call the bottles of claret that never
warm you, but whose thin stream, like the immortal river,--

  "Flows and as it flows, for ever may flow on;"


or the port that warms you indeed: yes, into a bilious headach and a low
fever. Yet all these things are pleasures!--parts of social enjoyment!
They fill out the corners of the grand world--they inspire the minor's
dreams--they pour crowds into St. James's, Doctors' Commons, and Melton
Mowbray--they----Oh! confound them all!--it bores one even to write
about them.

Only just returned to London, and, after so bright a panegyric on it,
I already weary of the variety of its samenesses. Shall I not risk the
fate of Faust, and fall in love--ponderously and _bonâ fide_? Or
shall I go among the shades of the deceased, and amuse myself with
chatting to Dido and Julius Caesar? Verily, reader, I leave you for the
present to guess my determination.

       *       *       *       *       *




DOMESTIC HINTS.

       *       *       *       *       *


WASTE OF BONES


Is at all times reprehensible, but more especially as they are employed
as a manure for dry soils, with the very best effect. They are commonly
ground and drilled in, in the form of powder, with turnip seed. Mr.
Huskisson estimated the real value of bones annually imported,
(principally from the Netherlands and Germany) for the purpose of being
used as a manure, at 100,000_l._; and he contended that it was not
too much to suppose that an advance of between 100,000_l._ and
200,000_l._ expended on this article occasioned 500,000 additional
quarters of corn to be brought to market.--_Loudon's Encycl.
Agricult._

       *       *       *       *       *


GOOD FLOUR.

According to the assize acts, a sack of flour weighing 280 lbs. is
supposed capable of being baked into 80 quartern loaves; one-fifth of
the loaf being supposed to consist of water and salt, and four-fifths of
flour. But the number of loaves that may be baked from a sack of flour
_depends entirely_ on its goodness. Good flour requires more water
than bad flour, and old flour than new flour. Sometimes 82, 83, and even
86 loaves have been made from a sack of flour, and sometimes hardly 80.

       *       *       *       *       *


LEGAL ADULTERATION OF BREAD.

Within the city of London, and in those places in the country where an
assize is not set, it is lawful for the bakers to make and sell bread
made of wheat, barley, rye, oats, buckwheat, Indian corn, peas, beans,
rice, or potatoes, or any of them, along with common salt, pure water,
eggs, milk, barm, leaven, potato or other yeast, and _mixed in such
proportions as they shall think fit_. (3 Geo. IV. c. 106, and 1 and 2
Geo. IV. c. 50.)

       *       *       *       *       *


HIGH PRICE OF COALS IN LONDON.

Much has frequently been said of the monopoly of coal-owners; "but,"
observes Mr. Macculloch, "we are satisfied, after a pretty careful
investigation of the circumstances, that no such monopoly has ever
existed; and that the high price of coal in the metropolis is to be
ascribed wholly to the various duties and charges that have been laid
upon it, from the time that it has passed from the hands of the owner,
to the time that it is lodged in the cellar of the consumer."--_Dict.
Commerce, &c._ 1832.

       *       *       *       *       *


ROASTING COFFEE.

Coffee in this country is rarely well roasted; and in this consists
its chief excellence. Dr. Moseley long since observed--"The roasting
of the berry to a proper degree requires great nicety: the virtue and
agreeableness of the drink depend upon it; and both are often injured
by the ordinary method. Bernier says, when he was at Cairo, where coffee
is so much used, he was assured by the best judges, that there were
only two people in that great city who understood how to prepare it in
perfection. If it be underdone, its virtues will not be imparted, and,
in use, it will load and oppress the stomach; if it be overdone, it will
yield a flat, burnt, and bitter taste, its virtues will be destroyed,
and, in use, it will heat the body, and act as an astringent." The
desirable colour of roasted coffee is that of cinnamon. Coffee-berries
readily imbibe exhalations from other bodies, and thereby acquire an
adventitious and disagreeable flavour. Sugar placed near coffee will, in
a short time, so impregnate the berries as to injure their flavour. Dr.
Moseley mentions, that a few bags of pepper, on board a ship from India,
spoiled a whole cargo of coffee.

       *       *       *       *       *




THE GATHERER.

       *       *       *       *       *

_History of "The Merry Devil of Edmonton" and "The Witch of
Edmonton."--_Lysons, in his _Environs of London_, says, "There
is a fable (says Norden) of one Peter Fabell, that lyeth in Edmonton
church, who is said to have beguiled the devell by policie for money;
but the devell is deceit itselfe, and hardly deceived."--"Belike (says
Weever) he was some ingenious, conceited gentleman, who did use some
sleightie tricks for his own disport. He lived and died in the reign of
Henry the Seventh, says the book of his merry pranks." The book Weever
refers to is a pamphlet, now very scarce, called "_The Life and Death
of the Merry Devil of Edmonton, with the Pleasant Pranks of Smug the
Smith, &c."_ These pleasant pranks compose the greater part of the
book, which informs us that Peter Fabell was born at Edmonton, and lived
and died there in the reign of Henry VII. He is called "an excellent
scholar, and well seene in the arte of magick." His story was worked up
into a play, called "The Merry Devil of Edmonton," which has been
falsely attributed to Shakspeare, but is now generally supposed to have
been written by Michael Drayton. There are five editions of this play;
the first came out in 1608; the scene is laid at Edmonton and Enfield.
Edmonton has furnished the stage with another drama, called, "The Witch
of Edmonton."

  "The town of Edmonton has lent the stage
  A Devil and a Witch, both in an age."


says the prologue to this play, which is said to be founded on a known
true story, and exhibits various witchcrafts practised upon the
neighbourhood by one Mother Sawyer, whose portrait with that of her
familiar (a dog, called Tom, which is one of the _dramatis personae_,)
is in the title-page. In the last act, Mrs. Sawyer is led out to
execution. Thus far Lysons.--Many curious particulars relating to Mrs.
Sawyer may be seen in a quarto pamphlet, published in 1621, under the
title, of _The wonderful discoverie of Elizabeth Sawyer, a witch, late
of Edmonton; her conviction, her condemnation, and death; together with
the relation of the Divel's accesse to her, and their conference
together. Written by Henry Goodcole, Minister of the Word of God, and
her continued visitor in the Goale of Newgate._ The play of "The
Merry Devil of Edmonton" was performed at the Globe, on the Bank-side.
"The Witch of Edmonton" was often acted at the Cock-pit, in Drury-lane,
and once at Court, with singular applause. It was never printed till the
year 1658; and was composed by Rowley, Dekker, and Ford, as a
tragi-comedy.

P.T.W.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Moody the Actor_ was an avaricious man. He once lent money to Mr.
Brereton, the actor; Brereton did not return it immediately, and Moody
waited with some degree of patience. At length, the first time Moody met
him, he looked earnestly at him, and vented a kind of noise between a
sigh and a groan. He repeated this interjection whenever he met
Brereton, who at length was so annoyed, that he put his hand in his
pocket and paid him. Moody took the money, and with a gentler aspect
said, "Did I ask you for it, Billy?"--Speaking of Sheridan, Moody once
said, "I have the highest respect for Mr. Sheridan; I honour his
talents, and would do anything to show my friendship for him, but take
his word."--_Taylor._

       *       *       *       *       *

_A Cruel Physiognomist._--Quin said of Macklin, "If God writes a
legible hand, that fellow is a villain." At another time, Quin had the
hardihood to say to Macklin himself, "Mr. Macklin, by the _lines_--I
beg your pardon, sir--by the _cordage_ of your face, you should
be hanged."

       *       *       *       *       *

"_The Grand Pause._"--Macklin had three pauses in his acting--the
first, moderate; the second, twice as long; but his last, or "grand
pause," as he styled it, was so long, that the prompter, on one
occasion, thinking his memory failed, repeated the cue (as it is
technically called) several times, and at last so loud as to be heard by
the audience. At length Macklin rushed from the stage, and knocked him
down, exclaiming, "The fellow interrupted me in my grand pause!"

_John Gilpin_.--Henderson, the actor, in his public readings, first
brought into notice the humorous tale of John Gilpin, which he recited
with such spirit and comic effect that it drew public attention to the
poems of Cowper in general, which, excellent as they are, particularly
_The Task_, were but little known at the time, though they are now
justly in universal estimation.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Bibb the Engraver._--Taylor relates: How Bibb supported himself,
having relinquished engraving, it would be difficult to conceive, if he
had not levied taxes upon all whom he knew, insomuch that, besides his
title of Count, he acquired that of "Half-crown Bibb," by which
appellation he was generally distinguished; and according to a rough,
and, perhaps, fanciful estimate, he had borrowed at least 2,000_l._
in half-crowns. I remember to have met him on the day when the death of
Dr. Johnson was announced in the newspapers, and, expressing my regret
at the loss of so great a man, Bibb interrupted me, and spoke of him as
a man of no genius, whose mind contained nothing but the lumber of
learning. I was modestly beginning a panegyric upon the doctor, when he
again interrupted me with, "Oh! never mind, that old blockhead. Have you
such a thing as ninepence about you?" Luckily for him I had a little
more.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Worst Leg_--Theophilus Cibber was by no means wanting in abilities
or humour. He had ill-formed legs; and having projected one of them in
company, which was noticed with a laugh, he offered to lay a wager that
there was a worse in company; and it being accepted, he put forward his
other leg, which was indeed more ill-shaped than the other.

       *       *       *       *       *

_A Painter's Gratitude_.--Zoffani, the celebrated painter, who was
born at Frankfort, 1735, came to England, as a painter of small
portraits, when he was about the age of thirty years. He had the honour
to be employed by his Majesty, and painted portraits of the royal
family; and he was engaged by the Queen, to paint for her a view of the
Tribune of the Gallery of Florence. He was somewhat of a humorist; and
it is said of him, that whilst he was engaged painting in the Florentine
Gallery, the Emperor of Germany visited the Grand Duke; and coining up
to Zoffani, in the Gallery, was much pleased with his performance, and
asked him his name; and on hearing it, inquired what countryman he was,
when he answered, "An Englishman."--"Why," said the Emperor, "your name
is German!"--"True," returned the painter. "I was born in Germany, that
was accidental; _I call that my country where I have been
protected!_" He was a member of the Royal Academy, and died in 1808.

P.T.W.

       *       *       *       *       *

_Watching for the Soul._--Margaret of Valois, Queen of Navarre,
being present at the death-bed of one of her maids of honour, continued
to fix her eyes on the dying person with uncommon eagerness and
perseverance till she breathed her last. The ladies of the Court
expressed their astonishment at this conduct, and requested to know what
satisfaction her majesty could derive from so close an inspection of the
agonies of death. Her answer marked a most daring and inquisitive mind.
She said that having often heard the most learned doctors and
ecclesiastics assert, that on the extinction of the body the immortal
part was set at liberty and unloosed, she could not restrain her anxious
curiosity to observe if such separation were visible or discernible;
that none had she been able in any degree to discover. She was suspected
of Hugonotism, and was so devout as to compose hymns.

_Harvest-home._--This custom a Correspondent believes to be
exclusively English; and its rapid disuse in many parts of England
cannot be but a source of regret to those who study the moral enjoyment
of the labouring classes of society. The social meal is now recompensed
by a trifling sum of money, which is either the resource of drunkenness
and debauchery, or at best is but comparatively ill-spent.

_All things by Comparison._--Aristippus being reprehended of luxury
by one that was not rich, for that he gave six crowns for a small fish,
answered, "Why, what would you have, given?" The other said, "Some
twelve pence." Aristippus said again, "And six crowns is no more with
me."

P.T.W.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Epitaphs._--At Castle Camps, in Cambridgeshire, is the following
quaint epitaph on a former rector--

  Mors mortis morti mortem nisi morte dedisset,
  Aeternae Vitae Janua clausa foret.


The translation is obviously, "unless the Death of Death (Christ) had
given death to Death by his own death, the gate of eternal life had been
closed." A poetic specimen of declension!

At Babraham, in Cambridgeshire, is this on Orazio Palovicini, who was
the last deputed to this country to collect the Peter-pence; but instead
of returning to Rome, he divided the spoil with the Queen, and bought
the estate at Babraham.--

  Here lies Orazio Pulovicin,
  Who robb'd the Pope to pay the Queen.
  He was a thief:--A thief? thou liest!
  For why?--He robb'd but antichrist.
  Him Death with besom swept from Babraham,
  Unto the bosom of old Abraham;
  Then came Hercules, with his club,
  And knocked him down to Beelzebub.


INDAGATOR.

       *       *       *       *       *


THE ANNUALS FOR 1833.


  With our next Number, a SUPPLEMENT,
  CONTAINING THE
  Spirit of the Annuals for 1833:
  With a fine Engraving, &c.


       *       *       *       *       *

_Printed and published by J. LIMBIRD, 143, Strand, (near Somerset
House,) London; sold by G.G. BENNIS, 55, Rue Neuve, St. Augustin, Paris;
CHARLES JUGEL, Francfort; and by all Newsmen and Booksellers._

       *       *       *       *       *