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THE MIRROR OF LITERATURE, AMUSEMENT, AND INSTRUCTION.

VOLUME XX, NO. 574.] SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1832. [PRICE 2d.

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[Illustration: LYDFORD BRIDGE.]




LYDFORD BRIDGE.


This is an interesting scene from the wild and wonderful in Nature.
Its romantic luxuriance must win the attention of the artist, and the
admiration of the less wistful beholder; while the philosophic mind,
unaccustomed to vulgar wonder, may seek in its formation the cause of
some of the most important changes of the earth's surface. Our esteemed
friend and correspondent _Vyvyan_, is probably familiar with the
locality of Lydford: his fancy might people it with pixies, and group
its scenery into a kind of topographical romance; probably not unaided
by its proximity to Dartmoor.[1]

Lydford is situated about seven miles north of Tavistock. It is, in the
words of its topographers,[2] a poor decayed village, consisting of rude
cottages. It was formerly a place of importance: for in Domesday Book,
it is rated in the same manner and at the same time with London. Some
remains of its ancient importance may still be seen in a square tower,
or keep of a castle, which was formerly used as a court and a prison,
where those criminals were tried and confined, who offended against the
Stannary Laws. This building is alluded to by William Browne[3]--

  They have a castle on a hill;
  I took it for an old windmill,
    The vane's blown off by weather;
  To lie therein one night, its guest,
  'Twere better to be ston'd and prest,
    Or hang'd--now choose you whether.


The scenery round the village is singularly picturesque: one of its most
prominent objects, _The Bridge_ is represented in the Engraving.
It bears great analogy, in situation and character, to the celebrated
Devil's Bridge in Wales. It consists of one rude arch, thrown across a
narrow, rocky chasm, which sinks nearly eighty feet from the level of
the road. At the bottom of this channel the small river Lyd is heard
rattling through its contracted course. The singularity of this scene
is not perceived in merely passing over the bridge: to appreciate
its character, and comprehend its awfully impressive effects, it is
necessary to see the bridge, the chasm, and the roaring water, from
different projecting crags which impend over the river. At a little
distance below the bridge, "the fissure gradually spreads its rocky
jaws; the bottom opens; and, instead of the dark precipices which have
hitherto overhung and obscured the struggling river, it now emerges into
day, and rolls its murmuring current through a winding valley, confined
within magnificent banks, darkened with woods, which swell into bold
promontories, or fall back into sweeping recesses, till they are lost to
the eye in distance. Thickly shaded by trees, which shoot out from the
sides of the rent, the scene at Lydford Bridge is not so terrific as it
would have been, had a little more light been let in upon the abyss,
just sufficient to produce a _darkness visible_. As it is, however,
the chasm cannot be regarded without shuddering; nor will the stoutest
heart meditate unappalled upon the dreadful anecdotes connected with the
spot."[4]

Scenes of this description frequently give rise to marvellous stories;
and Lydford Bridge has furnished many themes for the gossip's tongue.
It is related, that a London rider was benighted on this road, in a
heavy storm, and, wishing to get to some place of shelter, spurred
his horse forward with more than common speed. The tempest had been
tremendous during the night; and in the morning the rider was informed
that Lydford Bridge had been swept away with the current. He shuddered
to reflect on his narrow escape; his horse having cleared the chasm by
a great sudden leap in the middle of his course, though the occasion of
his making it at the time was unknown.

Two or three persons have chosen this spot for self-destruction; and in
a moment of desperation, have dashed themselves from the bridge into the
murky chasm.


    [1] Dartmoor appears the head-quarters of dreariness and desolation,
        forming a mountain tract of nearly 80,000 acres in extent,
        strewed with granite boulders and fragments of rocks, and
        appearing to set cultivation at defiance.--_Brande's Outline
        of Geology_.

    [2] John Britton and E.W. Brayley: in the Beauties of England and
        Wales, vol. iv.

    [3] A poet of considerable eminence in his day, born at Tavistock,
        in the year 1590. He was noticed by Selden, Drayton, Brooke,
        Glanville, and Ben Jonson.

    [4] Warner's Walk through the Western Counties.


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_Libels on Poets._--Cicero tells us, Democritus and Plato said that
there could be no good poet without a tincture of madness; and Aristotle
calls poets madmen.--P.T.W.

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THOU WERT THE RAINBOW OF MY DREAMS.


  Thou wert the rainbow of my dreams,
    To whom the eyes of Hope might turn,
  And bid her sacred flame arise
    Like incense from the festal urn;
  But as the thunder clouds conspire
    To wreck the lovely summer sky,
  So Death destroyed the liquid fire
    Which shone so brightly in thine eye!

  The cypress weeps upon thy tomb:
    But when the stars unfold their leaves
  Amid their bow'rs of purple gloom,
    More fervently my spirit grieves;
  And as the rainbow sheds its light
    In fairy hues upon the sea,
  So this cold world appears more bright
    When pensive Memory thinks of thee!


G.R.C.

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LORD BYRON.

Translation of a letter written by Lord Byron, in Greek and Italian, to
the Pacha of Patras.[5]

Highness.--A vessel containing several of my friends and servants,
having been captured and conducted by a Turkish frigate to your
fortresses, was released by your highness' command. I return you thanks,
not for releasing a vessel bearing a neutral flag, and which being under
British protection, no one had a right to detain; but for having treated
my friends with great courtesy while at your disposal. Hoping it may not
be unacceptable to your highness, I have requested the Greek Governor of
this place to grant me four Turkish prisoners; which has been readily
conceded. I send them therefore, free, to your highness, in order to
return your courtesy as far as is in my power. They are sent without
conditions, but if the affair is worthy of your remembrance, I would
merely beseech your highness to treat with humanity such Greeks as are
in your power, or may chance to fall into the hands of the Musselmen,
since the horrors of war are sufficient in themselves, without adding
on either side cruelties in cold blood.

I have the honour to be, &c.

NOEL BYRON, Peer of England.

_Missolonghi, Jan. 23, 1824._

    [5] From a correspondent (E.), who believes that no English version of
        this letter has hitherto appeared in print.


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WHEN WILT THOU RETURN?


  When wilt thou return?
    The silver clouds are closing
  Like billows o'er the fairy path
    Of sunset there reposing;
  The sapphire fields of heaven,
    With its golden splendour burn,
  And purple is the mountain peak,--
    But when wilt thou return?

  When wilt thou return?
    The woods are bright with summer,
  And the violet's bower is grac'd
    With the rose--a queenly comer;
  The stars, that in the air
    Like ethereal spirits burn,
  Seem watching for thy steps,--
    Oh I when wilt thou return?

  When wilt thou return?
    The sheathless sword is idle,
  And each warrior from his steed
    Has thrown aside the bridle.
  Hark!--'tis the trumpet's call!
    With hope our bosoms burn;
  Its echo wakes the distant hills,
    Announcing thy return!


G.R.C.

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ANECDOTE GALLERY.

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RECORDS OF MY LIFE.

BY THE AUTHOR OF "MONSIEUR TONSON."


_Angelica Kauffman._

The person of this lady, by all accounts, was highly interesting, and
her manners and accomplishments were peculiarly attractive. It is said
that Sir Joshua Reynolds, who was thoroughly acquainted with human
nature, and never likely to be deceived in his estimate of individuals,
was so much attached to her that he solicited her hand. It appeared,
however, that she refused him as she was attached to the late Sir
Nathaniel Holland, then Mr. Dance, an eminent painter, whose portrait
of Garrick in the character of Richard the Third is the best and most
spirited representation of that unrivalled actor that ever appeared,
though all the most distinguished artists of the time employed
themselves on the same admirable subject. The correspondence that had
taken place between Mrs. Kauffman and Mr. Dance became known, and was
thought to be of a very interesting description, insomuch that his
Majesty George the Third, who generally heard of anything worthy of
attention, requested Mr. Dance would permit him to peruse the letters
that had passed between them during their courtship. What put a period
to an intercourse which, being founded upon mutual attachment, held
forth so favourable a prospect of mutual happiness, has never been
developed, and is only matter of conjecture. Mrs. Kauffman, after
the termination of this promising courtship, went abroad, and was
unfortunately deluded into a marriage with a common footman, in Germany,
who had assumed a title and appeared to be a person of high rank and
affluence. Mrs. Kauffman, it is said, by the intervention of friends
had recourse to legal authorities, was enabled to separate from the
impostor, but did not return to this country, and died a few years
after, having never recovered her spirits after the shock of so
degrading an alliance. It is not a little surprising that a lady so
intelligent and accomplished should have been the victim of such a
deception.


_Highwaymen.--Jemmy Maclaine._

Mr. Donaldson told me that once having betted twenty pounds on a horse
at Newmarket, he won, but at the end of the race could not find the
person who had lost. Returning to London the next day, his post-chaise
was stopped by a highwayman, whom he immediately recognised as the loser
of the day before. He addressed the highwayman as follows: "Sir, I will
give you all I have about me if you will pay me the twenty pounds which
I won of you yesterday at Newmarket." The man instantly spurred his
horse, and was off in a moment. It is somewhat strange that, soon after
Mr. Donaldson landed in Jamaica, he saw the same man in a coffee-house.
He approached him, and in a whisper reminded him of his loss at
Newmarket; the man rushed out of the room, and, according to report
went to the Blue Mountains, and was never heard of again.

Mr. Donaldson was in real danger from another highwayman, who was
celebrated in his day, and known as a fashionable man by the name
of Maclaine. This man came from Ireland, and made a splendid figure
for some time, but as his means of support were not known, he was
generally considered as a doubtful character. He was by all accounts
a tall, showy, good-looking man, and a frequent visitor at Button's
Coffee-house, founded, as is well known, by Addison, in favour of an old
servant of the Warwick family, but never visited by him, when driven
from his home by the ill-humour of his wife; he then resorted to Will's,
on the opposite side of the same street, that he might not be reminded
of domestic anxieties. Button's was on the south side of Russell-street,
Covent-garden; and Will's in the same street, at the corner of
Bow-street. Button's became a private house, and Mrs. Inchbald lodged
there. Mr. Donaldson, observing that Maclaine paid particular attention
to the bar-maid, the daughter of the landlord, gave a hint to the father
of Maclaine's dubious character. The father cautioned his daughter
against the addresses of Maclaine, and imprudently told her by whose
advice he put her on her guard; she as imprudently told Maclaine. The
next time Donaldson visited the coffee-room, and was sitting in one of
the boxes, Maclaine entered, and in a loud tone said, "Mr. Donaldson,
I wish to _spake_ to you in a private room." Mr. Donaldson being
unarmed, and naturally afraid of being alone with such a man, said in
answer, that as nothing could pass between them that he did not wish the
whole world to know, he begged leave to decline the invitation. "Very
well," said Maclaine, as he left the room, "we shall _mate_ again."
A day or two after, as Mr. Donaldson was walking near Richmond in the
evening, he saw Maclaine on horseback, who on perceiving him spurred
the animal and was rapidly approaching him; fortunately, at that moment
a gentleman's carriage appeared in view, when Maclaine immediately
turned his horse towards the carriage, and Donaldson hurried into the
protection of Richmond as fast as possible. But for the appearance of
the carriage, which presented better prey, it is probable that Maclaine
would have shot Mr. Donaldson immediately. Maclaine a short time after
committed a highway robbery, was tried, found guilty, and hanged at
Tyburn.


_Extraordinary Story._

What the religious principles of Mr. Donaldson were, I never knew,
but I am sure he had too manly a mind to give way to superstition.
The following circumstance, however, he told me as a fact in which he
placed full confidence, on account of the character of the gentleman
who related it. The latter was a particular friend of his, and a member
of Parliament. In order to attend the House of Commons, he had taken
apartments in St. Anne's Churchyard, Westminster. On the evening when
he took possession, he was struck with something that appeared to him
mysterious in the manner of the maid-servant, who looked like a man
disguised; and he felt a very unpleasant emotion. This feeling was
strengthened by a similar deportment in the mistress of the house, who
soon after entered his room, and asked him if he wanted anything before
he retired to rest: disliking her manner, he soon dismissed her, and went
to bed, but the disagreeable impression made on his mind by the maid
and mistress, kept him long awake; at length, however, he fell asleep.
During his sleep he dreamed that the corpse of a gentleman, who had
been murdered, was deposited in the cellar of the house. This dream
co-operating with the unfavourable, or rather repulsive countenances and
demeanour of the two women, precluded all hopes of renewed sleep, and
it being the summer season, he arose about five o'clock in the morning,
took his hat, and resolved to quit a house of such alarm and terror.
To his surprise, as he was leaving it, he met the mistress in the
entry, dressed, as if she had never gone to bed. She seemed to be
much agitated, and inquired his reason for wishing to go out so early
in the morning. He hesitated a moment with increased alarm, and then
told her that he expected a friend, who was to arrive by a stage in
Bishopsgate-street, and that he was going to meet him. He was suffered
to go out of the house, and when revived by the open air, he felt, as
he afterwards declared, as if relieved from impending destruction. He
stated that in a few hours after, he returned with a friend to whom
he had told his dream, and the impression made on him by the maid and
the mistress; he, however, only laughed at him for his superstitious
terrors, but on entering the house, they found that it was deserted, and
calling in a gentleman who was accidentally passing, they all descended
to the cellar, and actually found a corpse in the state which the
gentleman's dream had represented.


_Drawing an Inference._

Dr. Monsey, with two or three old members of the university, in the
course of an evening walk, differed about a proper definition of man.
While they were severally offering their notions on the subject,
they came to a wall where an itinerant artist had drawn various
representations of animals, ships, &c. After complimenting him on
his skill, one of the gentlemen asked him if he could _draw an
inference_. "No," said the artist, "I never saw one." Logic then gave
way to jocularity, and a man coming by with a fine team of horses, they
stopped him, spoke highly of the condition of his horses, particularly
admiring the first. "That horse, carter," said another of the gentlemen,
"seems to be a very strong one, I suppose he could draw a butt," The man
assented. "Do you think he could _draw an inference?"_--"Why," said
the man, "he can draw anything _in reason_." "There," said Monsey,
"what becomes of your definition, when you met a man that could _not
draw an inference_ and a _horse that could?_"


_Disposal of the body for Dissection._

Dr. Monsey had the utmost contempt for funeral ceremonies, and exacted
a promise from his daughter, that she would not interfere with the
arrangement which he had made with Mr. Thompson Forster, the surgeon,
for the disposal of his body, conceiving that whenever it was dissected
by that gentleman, something might occur for the illustration and
advancement of anatomy. "What can it signify to me," said he, "whether
my carcass is cut up by the knife of a surgeon, or the tooth of a worm?"
He had a large box in his chambers at Chelsea, full of air-holes, for
the purpose of carrying his body to Mr. Forster, in case he should be
in a trance when supposed to be dead. It was provided with poles, like
a sedan-chair.


_Voltaire._

Mentioning Voltaire, I may as well relate in this place a circumstance
communicated to me by Monsey, upon what he deemed good authority, that
Voltaire being invited to dine with a lady of quality while he was in
London, to meet some persons of distinction, waited upon the lady an
hour or two earlier than the time appointed. The lady apologized for the
necessity of leaving him, as she had visits to pay, but begged he would
amuse himself with the books in the room, promising to return very soon.
After the party broke up, having occasion to refer to her escrutoire,
she evidently found that it had been opened in her absence, and though
nothing had been taken away, her papers were obviously not in the same
order as when she left them. She inquired anxiously who had been in the
room, and was assured nobody but Voltaire, who had remained there till
she returned home. As Voltaire was destitute of all religious principles
it is not wonderful that he was equally devoid of all moral delicacy.
A severe account of his conduct towards the great King of Prussia, while
he was at the court of that monarch, is given in "The Reverie," a work
before referred to.

Voltaire once dined in company with Pope, Lord Bolingkroke, and several
of the most distinguished characters in London, and said it was "the
proudest day he had ever enjoyed."

      *       *       *       *       *




THE PUBLIC JOURNALS.

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THE CINQUE PORTS--THEIR PAST AND PRESENT STATE.

(_Abridged from the United Service Journal._)


The precise time when the Cinque Ports were first incorporated by
charter is unknown, but it was at a very early period of our history;
the institution being formed on that adopted by the Romans, while
masters of Britain, for the defence of the coasts against the northern
pirates. The difference between them consists in the number of the
stations incorporated, the Roman being nine, under the governance of an
officer whose title was, Comes littoris Saxonici; and the Saxon
consisting of five, under the superintendence of a chief, whose title
is, Lord Warden and Admiral of the Cinque Ports. There is no charter
extant of the ports prior to Edward I.; and as they are not mentioned
collectively in Domesday, many persons have been led to conclude, I
think erroneously, that they did not exist as a corporation at the time
when that ancient record was taken. Dover, Sandwich, and Romney are
named as privileged ports, from which it may be inferred, that the
corporation flourished at that time,--and for this reason,--Hastings has
always been considered the first port in precedency, which would not
probably have been the case, if it had been one of the latest
privileged. The charter of Edward I. mentions immunities granted to the
Cinque Ports by William the Conqueror; and, what is still more to the
purpose, because it carries back their origin to the Saxon times, is,
that King John, in his charter, says, that the Barons of the Cinque
Ports had in their possession, charters of most of the preceding kings,
back to Edward the Confessor, _which he had seen_. So, having
traced them up to a Saxon origin, I must leave to some future antiquary
the task of settling the precise date of their first incorporation.

The five incorporated ports are, Hastings, Sandwich, Dover, Romney,
and Hythe. Attached to each port are several limbs or members, the
inhabitants of which participate in their privileges, and bear a share
of their expenses. Rye and Winchelsea were united to Hastings about the
first year of the reign of King John, under the denomination of the two
ancient towns, and they appear to have obtained the superiority which
they now hold over the other limbs, at a very early period, a charter
of the year 1247 styling them, by way of eminence,_nobiliora membra
Quinque Portuum._ The limbs are first mentioned in the Red-Book
of the Exchequer, a miscellaneous collection of treatises, written
before and after the Conquest, and collected together by Alexander
de Swereford, Archdeacon of Shrewsbury, an officer of the Exchequer,
who died in 1246: and also in the Domesday of the Ports, an ancient
manuscript, formerly kept in Dover castle, but now unfortunately lost;
but they do not occur in any charter till that of Edward IV. By what
means or for what purpose these limbs became united to the five head
ports, is now matter of speculation.

The duties which the Ports were bound to perform were incessant and of
the most arduous character, particularly during the early years of the
institution, when the narrow seas were constantly infested by numerous
hordes of fierce, adventurous, and reckless pirates. Exonerated from all
other services, they were bound to exert their own naval force for the
protection of the realm, for the maintenance of the free navigation of
the Channel, for the prevention of piracies, and all impediments and
interruptions whatsoever. Effectually to perform these services,
dangerous and difficult it must be allowed, they were obliged to furnish
among them fifty-seven ships, each manned with twenty men and one boy,
at their own cost, for fifteen days, and for as long a period afterwards
as the king pleased to appoint; but they were then entitled to receive
pay for their services. The sums granted to them by the crown were by no
means a remuneration for the expenses attendant on the large naval force
they wore obliged to keep up at all times for the service of the
kingdom, and often did not cover a third part of the necessary
expenditure. The ships of the Cinque Ports, therefore, were the navy of
the realm, and in almost every reign the pages of history show with how
great honour and reputation the Ports discharged the sacred trust
reposed in their valour, skill and bravery, by their confiding country.
We sometimes find them fitting out double the number of ships specified
in their charters; and when larger ones were thought necessary, they
have equipped a smaller number, at an expense equivalent to that which
their service by tenure demanded. In the reign of Elizabeth they had
five ships, of one hundred and sixty tons each, at sea for five months,
entirely at their own charge; and in the reign of Charles the First,
they fitted out two large ships, which served for two months, and cost
them more than eighteen hundred pounds.

The honours and privileges granted to the Cinque Ports, in consideration
of these services, were great and numerous. They were each to send two
barons to represent them in parliament; they were, by their deputies,
to hear the canopy over the king's head at his coronation, and to dine
at the uppermost table, on his right hand, in the great hall; they were
exempted from subsidies and other aids; their heirs were free from
personal wardship, notwithstanding any tenure; they were to be impleaded
in their own towns, and nowhere else; they were to hold pleas and
actions real and personal; to have conusance of fines; and the power
of enfranchising villeins; they were exempt from tolls, and had full
liberty of buying and selling, with many other privileges of less
importance.

To direct the energies, to enforce the due performance of the important
services, and to protect the extraordinary privileges of the Ports, an
officer was created, and styled Lord Warden, Chancellor, and Admiral of
the Cinque Ports, an officer of such high dignity and honour, that it
has been sometimes executed by the heirs-apparent to the crown, often by
princes of the blood royal, and always by persons of the first rank in
the kingdom.

History affords abundant proof of the early grandeur and importance
of the Cinque Ports, situated in a district which, from the earliest
periods of authentic record, has been allowed to be the most fertile,
and the best cultivated in the kingdom, as well as the principal seat of
foreign commerce. Here the Roman power in Britain shone in its greatest
splendour; many good ports were constructed and fortified, large remains
of which exist to the present time, melancholy indications of the
instability of all mundane things. The prosperity and importance of this
district, the chief, or indeed the only, seat of maritime power, at that
period, cannot be better illustrated than by the fact of Carausius and
Allectus holding the title of emperors for ten years from the power
afforded them by the naval force of Britain. But the grandeur of the
Romans has faded into dimness, and of their magnificence nothing remains
but mouldering ruins. Their celebrated haven, situated between Kent and
the Isle of Thanet, which for position, extent, and safety, exceeded any
which we have remaining, is now lost; and of their other ports, some are
completely annihilated, others have become very inconsiderable, and all
very greatly impaired.

Under our Saxon ancestors, by whom the Cinque Ports were first
chartered, all the havens were open and in good condition, in which
state they were found by the Normans, who confirmed to the Ports their
ancient privileges. Through several centuries their prosperity continued
to increase; the towns were well built, fully inhabited, and in
possession of a lucrative and extensive commerce; they had many fine
ships constantly employed, and abounded with hardy and intrepid seamen;
opulence was visible in their streets, and happiness in their dwellings.
But times have sadly changed with them. Let us inquire into the causes
which led to their decay. The first cause is the failing of their
several havens, some by the desertion of the sea, and others from being
choked up by the impetuosity of that boisterous and uncertain element.
The second is the change that has taken place in the method of raising
and supporting a national marine, now no longer entrusted to the Cinque
Ports; and the third was from the invasion of their privileges with
respect to trade.

It is evident from their history that the Cinque Ports were once safe
and commodious harbours, the decay of which is attributable chiefly to
the practice of inning or gaining land from the sea; the first attempts
at which were made upon the estuary into which the river Rother
discharges itself, between Lydd and Romney. As there were marshes here
in the time of the Saxons, and as almost all the property in the
neighbourhood belonged to the church, it is most probable that this
mischievous practice was first introduced by their clergy. By various
operations the river was forced into a new channel, and a very strong
fence, called a ree, was built to ensure its perpetual exclusion.
The success which attended this operation roused the cupidity of the
Archbishops of Canterbury, who considering it as an excellent method
for increasing their property, continued to make large and successful
inroads on the sea, till the tract of land so gained may be computed
at between fifty and sixty thousand acres, now become rich and fertile
pastures, producing good rents, and extremely valuable.

Before these encroachments were effected upon the sea, no contention
existed between that turbulent element and the shore; but as soon as
cupidity made inroads upon its ancient boundary, and declared war
against the order of nature, the effects of its impetuous resentment
were speedily felt. Whoever supposes he can control old Ocean, or make
war upon his ancient border with impunity, will find himself mistaken,
and soon discover that he knew little of the perseverance, the genius,
or the power of his opponent. It retired from some towns and places
where they intended it should remain, and overflowed or washed away
others grown rich by its bounty; here it fretted and undermined the
shore till it fell, and there it cast up beach and sand, covering a
good soil with that which is both disagreeable and useless; and instead
of being the source of industry and wealth, it became the engine of
destruction and terror. Hastings, Romney, Hythe, Rye, and Winchelsea,
with their dependencies, are now totally gone as ports, and greatly
diminished in wealth and consequence. Winchelsea was once so large and
handsome, that Elizabeth, during one of her progresses, bestowed upon it
the appellation of Little London. Hythe formerly contained seven parish
churches, now reduced to one. Rye and Romney look as if the plague had
been raging through their dull and gloomy streets, and had carried
off nearly all the population. Hastings, though still flourishing
as a town, owes its prosperity to its having become a fashionable
sea-bathing-place; for as to a port or haven, there is not a vestige of
one remaining. Thus it will be seen that private individuals, for their
own benefit, have been suffered to gain from the sea fifty thousand
acres of pasture land, at a cost to the nation of five safe and
commodious harbours, and the ruin of their several towns; thus reversing
the political maxim, that private interest ought to give way to public
benefit.

Similar in state to the five towns just named, is the once-celebrated
and commodious port and town of Sandwich, now distant a mile and a half
from the sea. This circumstance, also, is not attributable to any
natural decline or desertion of the water, but to the long-continued
exertions of individuals, for the purpose of gaining land from that
estuary which formerly divided Kent from the Isle of Thanet. The estuary
is no more, and deplorable are the consequences which have followed its
loss; for towns have dwindled into villages, and villages into solitary
farm-houses, throughout the entire district through which it flowed;
trade and commerce have declined, and population has suffered a most
extensive and frightful reduction.

In exchange for the ancient prosperity of this neighbourhood, we have
large fens or salt marshes, rich in fertility and malaria; but in this,
as in the former contest, the sea has had the best of it; for Bede has
clearly expressed in his writings that "the Isle of Thanet was of
considerable bigness, containing, according to the English way of
reckoning, 600 families." Supposing, therefore, a family or a hide of
land to contain only 64 acres, the smallest quantity taken by any author
of credit, the quantity of land, at the time he wrote, will amount to
38,400 acres; which, exclusive of the salt marshes, is double the
quantity contained in the island at the present time; we have,
therefore, lost more land than we have gained, and, most unfortunately,
the safe and eligible port of Sandwich into the bargain.

The port of the town of Sandwich, was for centuries one of the best and
most frequented in the realm, producing to the revenue of the customs
between sixteen and seventeen thousand pounds. But with the decay of
her haven, commerce declined, and the revenue became so small, "that it
was scarcely sufficent to satisfy the customer of his fee:" a dull and
melancholy gloom is now spread through all her streets, and around her
walls, where, during the times that her haven was good and her woollen
manufactures were prosperous, naught was visible but activity, industry,
and opulence. Her sun has been long and darkly eclipsed; but with a
little well-directed exertion on the part of her inhabitants, and a
moderate expenditure, it might be made to shine again, though not,
perhaps, in all the brilliancy of its former splendour.[6]

Dover, the other port remaining to be noticed, is certainly a
flourishing town at present; but to what does it owe its prosperity? Not
to any of its advantages as one of the Cinque Ports, but to the
circumstances of its being the port of communication with out Gallic
neighbours, and to its having become frequented for the purpose of
sea-bathing, which latter is a recent event. As a sea-bathing place it
is likely it may appear cheerful and gay, even when the Continent is
closed against us; but before it became a candidate for the favour of
the migratory hordes of the summer months, it was, during the period of
a war with France, one of the dullest towns in the kingdom.

The last calamity which I shall notice, is the attack which was made
upon their home trade. They were, by their charter, to have full liberty
of buying and selling, which privilege was opposed by the citizens of
London, who disputed their right to buy and sell freely their woollens
in Blackwell Hall. The charter of the ports is one hundred years older
than that of London, but, notwithstanding this priority of right, the
citizens of London prevailed. The result was indeed calamitous, for
after the decay of the haven, the chief source of prosperity to the town
of Sandwich consisted in the woollen manufactures, and as the freedom of
buying and selling was now denied, the manufacturers immediately
removed, and were soon followed by the owners of the trading vessels,
and the merchants; and thus basely deprived of those advantages from
which arose their ancient opulence and splendour, they sank with
rapidity into that insignificance and poverty which have unfortunately
remained their inseparable companions up to the present hour. Among the
princes who have executed the high and honourable office of Lord Warden
of the Cinque Ports, we find the names of the brave and unfortunate
Harold, in the time of the Confessor, and Edward, Prince of Wales, in
the time of Henry III. Henry V., when Prince of Wales, held this office,
which was afterwards filled by Humphry, Duke of Gloucester. James II.,
when Duke of York, was Lord Warden, as was also Prince George of
Denmark, with many other princes of the royal blood. In celebrated names
among the nobility, the catalogue of Lords Warden is eminently rich.
The family of Fiennes occurs frequently, as does also that of Montfort.
Hugh Bigod; several of the family of Cobham, as well as the names of
Burghersh, De Grey, Beauchamp, Basset, and De Burgh, are studded over
the calendar, in the early reigns. Edward, Lord Zouch, and George, Duke
of Buckingham, were Lords Warden in the reign of James I.; since that
period the office has been filled by the Duke of Ormond; the Earl of
Holdernesse, whose attention to the advantages of the ports was great;
Lord North, the late Mr. Pitt, whose affability and condescension,
added to a real regard for the prosperity of the Cinque Ports, and
an unremitted attention to the duties of the Wardenship, gained him
universal esteem; and lastly, by that honest and respected stateman, the
late Earl of Liverpool. The mantle of the ports has now fallen on his
Grace the Duke of Wellington, than whose name there does not exist a
greater in the catalogue of Lords Warden. The public spirit displayed
by the Duke, since his wardenship, cannot be too widely known, nor too
highly applauded,--his grace having paid into the Treasury, for the
public service, the whole amount of the proceeds of his office, as Lord
Warden, thus furnishing a noble example of magnanimity and
disinterestedness.

    [6] We believe that measures are in progress for re-establishing
        the commercial importance of Sandwich, by the restoration of
        the once celebrated haven. The town, we may add, is noble in
        its decay; for, among the jurats and burgesses are several
        worthy and opulent retired merchants, who would doubtless
        rejoice in the revival of Sandwich, for the welfare of their
        more aspiring townsmen,--_Ed. M._


       *       *       *       *       *


DRYBURGH ABBEY.

[The clever stanzas transferred from a late number of the _Literary
Gazette_ to No. 572 of _the Mirror_, are from the spirited pen
of Mr. Charles Swain: they are the most poetical and appropriate of the
tributes yet inscribed to the memory of Sir Walter Scott, although this
is but mean praise compared with their merit. In the _Gazette_ of
Saturday last, the following additions are suggested by two different
correspondents, "though," as the editor observes, "they are offered with
great modesty by their authors."]


  And after these, with hand in hand, the Sisters Troil appear;
  Poor "Mina's" cheek was deadly pale, in "Brenda's" eye a tear;
  And "Norna," in a sable vest, sang wild a funeral cry,
  And waved aloft a bough of yew, in solemn mystery.

  "George Heriot" crap'd, and "Jenkin Vin" with prentice-cap in hand--
  Ev'en "Lady Palla" left her shrine to join that funeral band;
  But hood and veil conceal'd her form--yet, hark! in whisper's tone
  She breathes a Christian's holy prayer for the mighty spirit flown.

  A wail!--a hollow, churchyard wail!--a wild weird-sister's cry!--
  Ah! "Annie Winnie," thou too here?--and "Alice?"--vanish--fly!
  "Not so," they shrieked, "we'll see the corse--the bonny corse;
          'twas meet--
  And pity 'twas we were not there to bind his  winding sheet."

  Old "Owen" passed with tottering step, and lost and wandering looks;
  "He's balanced his account," he cried, "and closed his earthly books;"
  Bold "Loxley," with his bow unbent--unhelm'd "Le Belafré,"
  Together pass'd--the archer wiped one silent tear away.

  Stern "Bridgenorth," with his daughter's arm hung on his own, stalk'd by;
  The blushing "Alice" veils her face from "Julian Peveril's" eye:
  "Alack-a-day," 'Daft Davie' cries--"come, follow, follow me,
  We'll strew his grave with cowslip buds and blooming rosemary."

  In distance from the mournful throng, like stars of other spheres,
  The lovely "Mary Stuart" pays the homage of her tears,
  With "Cath'rine Seymore" at the shrine of Scotia's dearest name,
  And with her bends the "Douglas'" knees, with bold young "Roland Graeme."

  But hark! what fairy melody comes wafted on the gale--
  Oh! 'tis "Fenella's" sighing lute, in notes of woe and wail:
  "Claud Halero" catches at the strain, and mourns the minstrel gone,
  "His spirit rest in peace where sleeps the shade of glorious John!"

  With spattered cloak, the ladies' knight, the gallant "Rawleigh" see,
  "Sir Creveceux's" plume waves by his side, and "Durward's" fleur-de-lis;
  There "Janet" leans on "Foster's" arm--e'en "Varney's" treacherous eye
  Is moistened with a tear that speaks remorse's agony.

  Next, muffled in his sable cloak, "Tressilian" wends his way,
  His slouching hat denies his brow the cheering light of day;
  See how he dogs the proud earl's steps, as "Leicester" bears along
  The lovely "Amy" on his arm through that sad mournful throng.

  There "Lillias" pass'd with fairy step, in hood and mantle green,
  Her sire, "Redgauntlet's" eagle eye is fixed on her, I ween;
  And "Wandering Willie" doffs his cap, to raise his sightless eye
  To Heaven, and cried, "God rest his soul in yonder sunny sky!"

  Here "Donald Lean," with fillibeg and tartan-skirted knee;
  There pale was "Cleveland," as he slept by Stromness' howling sea;
  With faltering step crept "Trapbois" by, with drooping palsied head,
  More like a charnel truant stray'd from regions of the dead.

  And thus they pass, a mournful train, the "squire," the "belted knight,"
  The "hood and cowl," the ladies' page, and woman's image bright;
  In distance now the solemn notes their requiem's chant prolong,
  And now 'tis hush'd--to other ears they bear their funeral song.

      *       *       *       *       *

  "Two beauteous sisters, side by side, their wonted station kept;
  The dark-eyed 'Minna' look'd to Heaven, the gentle 'Brenda' wept;
  Wild 'Norna,' in her mantle wrapp'd, with noiseless step mov'd on,
  'Claud Halcro' in his grief awhile forgot e'en glorious 'John.'

  The princely 'Saladin' appear'd, aside his splendour laid,
  And only by his graceful mien and piercing glance betray'd;
  The lofty 'Edith,' followed by the silent 'Nubian slave,'
  Dropp'd lightly, as she pass'd, a wreath upon the poet's grave."


       *       *       *       *       *




THE TOPOGRAPHER.


[Illustration: LESTINGHAM CHURCH.]


LESTINGHAM CHURCH.


(_From a Correspondent._)


Lestingham, which is supposed to signify _lasting-home_, is a village
near Kirkby Moorside, Yorkshire, the scene of Buckingham's death, so
caricatured by Pope in his _Dunciad_. It is remarkable on account
of its church, which is a most interesting edifice to the antiquary,
exhibiting a true specimen of Saxon architecture. The east end
terminates in a semicircular recess for the altar, resembling the
tribune of the Roman basilica. It was here that Cedd, bishop of the East
Saxons, or London, founded a monastery for Benedictines, about the year
648, or, some say, 655. The church of Lestingham was the first which was
built in this district, or the first of which we have any account. It
was originally constructed of wood, and it was not till many years after
that a stone one was erected.

Cedd was a Saxon missionary, educated at the monastery of Lindisfarne,
now Holy Island, not far from Bamburgh, the capital of Bernicia.
Ethelwald, king of Deira, knowing Cedd to be a man of real piety,
desired him to accept some land for the building of a monastery, at
which the king might attend to pray. Cedd availed himself of the
proposal, and chose Lestingham. Having fixed on the spot for the site of
the sanctuary, he resolved to consecrate it by fasting and prayer all the
Lent; eating nothing except on the Lord's day, until evening; and then
only a little bread, an egg, and a small quantity of milk diluted with
water; he then began the building. He established in it the same
discipline observed at Lindisfarne. Cedd governed his diocese many
years; and died of a plague, when on a visit to his favourite monastery
at Lindisfarne, where he had been ordained bishop by Finan; he was
interred here, 664, but his remains were taken up, and re-interred in
the present church, on the right side of the altar.

[Illustration: (_The Crypt._)]

The present Saxon church contains many relics of antiquity; as painted
glass, ancient inscriptions, &c.; but the most remarkable feature
of is interior is the celebrated crypt, or vault, formerly used as a
depository for the venerated relics of canonized prelates. At the east
end of this subterraneous retreat, from the window through which the
light faintly gleams, the scene is interesting to astonishment. Here
you perceive the massy arches ranged in perspective on huge cylindrical
pillars, with variously sculptured capitals, each differing from the
other, and all in the real Saxon style; to this add the groined roof,
and the stairs at the west end, leading up into the church, enveloped in
a luminous obscurity, from the scanty light admitted by the window at
the east end. From the account given by Venerable Bede, that the body
of Cedd was interred on the right of the altar, we may suppose that the
crypt was built after the erection of the church, though the time cannot
be ascertained.

About fifty years ago, the remaining part of the venerable monastery,
founded by Cedd, was razed, and its walls, hallowed by the dust of the
holy brotherhood, furnished materials for building. The Rev. W. Ellis,
the then incumbent, whose indignation, at the circumstance, was
unbounded, wrote some Latin verses on the subject; but they have been
lost in the stream of time, and, like the ashes of the hand that wrote
them, cannot be found.

The late Mr. Jackson, R.A., was a native of the village of Lestingham;
and, with feelings of regard for the land of his childhood, he proposed
to execute a painting, as an altar-piece for the church. His Grace the
archbishop of York and the Rev. F. Wrangham, were consulted on the
subject, and gave it their approval; but, we believe, the meritorious
artist died before he had finished the painting.

       *       *       *       *       *




NEW BOOKS.

       *       *       *       *       *


WILD SPORTS OF THE WEST.

This book is a grievous failure--that is, if the merits of books are to
be adjudged with their titles. The writer is the author of _Stories of
Waterloo_, from whom better things might have been expected. He has
taken for his model, Mr. Lloyd's really excellent _Field Sports of the
North of Europe_; but he has woefully missed his mark. The title of
the work before us is equivocal: a reader might as reasonably expect the
Sports of the Western World, as adventures in Ireland, such as make up
the present volumes. What we principally complain of is the paucity of
Sports among their contents. It is true that the title also promises
Legendary Tales and Local Sketches, but here they are the substance, and
the Wild Sports mere shadow. We have too little of "the goodly rivers,"
"all sorts of fish," "the sweet islands and goodly lakes, like little
inland seas," "of the most beautiful and sweet countrey," as Spenser
phrases it in the author's title-page; and there is not so much as the
author promises in his preface, of shooting the wild moors and fishing
the waters, of days spent by "fell and flood," and light and joyous
nights in mountain bivouacs and moorland huts. There is too much
hearsay, and storytelling not to the purpose, and trifling gossip of
"exquisite potatoes" and "rascally sherry"--details which would disgrace
a half-crown guide book, and ought certainly not to be set forth with
spaced large type in hotpressed octavos at a costly rate. Nevertheless,
the work may suit club-room tables and circulating libraries, though it
will not be allowed place for vivid display of Wild Sports. We quote two
extracts--one, a narrative which the author knows to be substantially
true; the other, relating to the attack of eagles, (though we omit the
oft-told tale of the peasant attempting to rob an eagle's nest, and his
hair turning white with fright):--


_The Blind Seal._

About forty years ago a young seal was taken in Clew Bay, and
domesticated in the kitchen of a gentleman whose house was situated on
the sea-shore. It grew apace, became familiar with the servants, and
attached to the house and family; its habits were innocent and gentle,
it played with the children, came at its master's call, and, as the old
man described him to me, was "fond as a dog, and playful as a kitten."

Daily the seal went out to fish, and after providing for his own wants,
frequently brought in a salmon or turbot to his master. His delight in
summer was to bask in the sun, and in winter to lie before the fire, or,
if permitted, creep into the large oven, which at that time formed the
regular appendage of an Irish kitchen.

For four years the seal had been thus domesticated, when, unfortunately,
a disease, called in this country _the crippawn_--a kind of
paralytic affection of the limbs which generally ends fatally--attacked
some black cattle belonging to the master of the house; some died others
became infected, and the customary cure produced by changing them to
drier pasture failed. A wise woman was consulted, and the hag assured
the credulous owner, that the mortality among his cows was occasioned
by his retaining an unclean beast about his habitation--the harmless
and amusing seal. It must be made away with directly, or the crippawn
would continue, and her charms be unequal to avert the malady. The
superstitious wretch consented to the hag's proposal; the seal was put
on board a boat, carried out beyond Clare Island, and there committed to
the deep, to manage for himself as he best could. The boat returned, the
family retired to rest, and next morning a servant awakened her master
to tell him that the seal was quietly sleeping in the oven. The poor
animal over night came back to his beloved home, crept through an open
window, and took possession of his favourite resting-place.

Next morning another cow was reported to be unwell. The seal must now
be finally removed; a Galway fishing-boat was leaving Westport on her
return home, and the master undertook to carry off the seal, and not
put him overboard until he had gone leagues beyond Innis Boffin. It was
done--a day and night passed; the second evening closed--the servant
was raking the fire for the night--something scratched gently at the
door--it was of course the house-dog---she opened it, and in came the
seal! Wearied with his long and unusual voyage, he testified by a
peculiar cry, expressive of pleasure, his delight to find himself at
home, then stretching himself before the glowing embers of the hearth
he fell into a deep sleep.

The master of the house was immediately apprized of this unexpected
and unwelcome visit. In the exigency, the beldame was awakened and
consulted; she averred that it was always unlucky to kill a seal, but
suggested that the animal should be deprived of sight, and a third time
carried out to sea. To this hellish proposition the besotted wretch who
owned the house consented, and the affectionate and confiding creature
was cruelly robbed of sight, on that hearth for which he had resigned
his native element! Next morning, writhing in agony, the mutilated seal
was embarked, taken outside Clare Island, and for the last time
committed to the waves.

A week passed over, and things became worse instead of better; the
cattle of the truculent wretch died fast, and the infernal hag gave
him the pleasurable tidings that her arts were useless, and that the
destructive visitation upon his cattle exceeded her skill and cure.

On the eighth night after the seal had been devoted to the Atlantic, it
blew tremendously. In the pauses of the storm a wailing noise at times
was faintly heard at the door; the servants, who slept in the kitchen,
concluded that the _Banshee_ came to forewarn them of an approaching
death, and buried their heads in the bed-coverings. When morning broke
the door was opened--the seal was there lying dead upon the threshold!"

"Stop, Julius!" I exclaimed, "give me a moment's time to curse all
concerned in this barbarism."

"Be patient, Frank," said my cousin, "the _finale_ will probably
save you that trouble. The skeleton of the once plump animal--for, poor
beast, it perished from hunger, being incapacitated from blindness to
procure its customary food--was buried in a sand-hill, and from that
moment misfortunes followed the abettors and perpetrators of this
inhuman deed. The detestable hag, who had denounced the inoffensive
seal, was, within a twelvemonth, hanged for murdering the illegitimate
offspring of her own daughter. Every thing about this devoted house
melted away--sheep rotted, cattle died, 'and blighted was the corn.'
Of several children none reached maturity, and the savage proprietor
survived every thing he loved or cared for. He died _blind_ and
miserable.

"There is not a stone of that accursed building standing upon another.
The property has passed to a family of a different name, and the series
of incessant calamity which pursued all concerned in this cruel deed is
as romantic as true."


_Visit to the Eagle's Cliff, in Inniskea._

We ascended the hill (while the crew were clearing and baiting their
spillets) in the vague hope of getting a shot at these predatory birds,
of whose spoliations we had heard so much on the preceding evening.

On reaching the bottom of the rock, in whose face the aërie stands, we
discovered that the old birds were absent, and as the nest was formed in
a deep fissure, we could not ascertain its situation exactly. But that
the eagles' dwelling was above us was evident, enough: the base of the
cliff was strewn with bones and feathers, and the accumulation of both
was extraordinary. The bones of rabbits, hares, and domestic fowls, were
most numerous, but those of smaller game, and various sorts of fish,
were visible among the heap.

Many attempts are annually made to destroy this predatory family. It is
impossible to rob the nest. Situated two hundred feet above the base of
the rock, it is of course unapproachable from below, and as the cliffs
beetle over it frightfully, to assail it from above would be a hazardous
essay. An enterprising peasant, some years since, was let down by a rope
and basket,--but he was fiercely attacked by the old birds, and the
basket nearly overturned. Fortunately the cord was strong and had
sufficient length to allow his being lowered rapidly, or he would have
undoubtedly sustained some bodily injury from the wings and talons of
those enraged and savage birds.

The village of Dugurth suffers heavily from its unfortunate proximity to
the aërie. When the wind blows from a favourable point, the eagle in the
grey of morning sweeps through the cabins, and never fails in carrying
off some prey.

To black fowls eagles appear particularly attached, and the villagers
avoid as much as possible rearing birds of that colour.

A few days before, one of the coast-guard, alarmed by the cries of a
boy, rushed from the watch-house; the eagle had taken up a black hen,
and, as he passed within a few yards, the man flung his cap at him. The
eagle dropped the bird; it was quite dead, however, the talons having
shattered the back-bone. The villagers say (with what truth I know not)
that turkeys are never taken.

That the eagle is extremely destructive to fish, and particularly so to
salmon, many circumstances would prove. They are constantly discovered
watching the fords in the spawning season, and are seen to seize and
carry off the fish. One curious anecdote I heard from my friend the
priest. Some years since a herdsman, on a very sultry day in July, while
looking for a missing sheep, observed an eagle posted on a bank that
overhung a pool. Presently the bird stooped and seized a salmon, and a
violent struggle ensued; when the herd reached the spot, he found the
eagle pulled under water by the strength of the fish, and the calmness
of the day, joined to drenched plumage, rendered him unable to extricate
himself. With a stone the peasant broke the eagle's pinion, and actually
secured the spoiler and his victim, for he found the salmon dying in his
grasp.

When shooting on Lord Sligo's mountains, near the Killeries, I heard
many particulars of the eagle's habit and history from a grey-haired
peasant who had passed a long life in these wilds. The scarcity of
hares, which here were once abundant, he attributed to the rapacity of
those birds; and he affirmed, that when in pursuit of these animals, the
eagle evinced a degree of intelligence that appeared extraordinary. They
coursed the hares, he said, with great judgment and certain success; one
bird was the active follower, while the other remained in reserve, at
the distance of forty or fifty yards. If the hare, by a sudden turn,
freed himself from his most pressing enemy, the second bird instantly
took up the chase, and thus prevented the victim from having a moment's
respite.

He had remarked the eagles also while they were engaged in fishing.
They chose a small ford upon the rivulet which connects Glencullen with
Glandullagh, and posted on either side waited patiently for the salmon
to pass over. Their watch was never fruitless,--and many a salmon, in
its transit from the sea to the lake, was transferred from his native
element to the wild aërie in the Alpine cliff; that beetles over the
romantic waters of Glencullen.

[The volumes are handsomely printed, and embellished with aqua-tint
plates and clever vignettes: some of the latter, by Bagg, are spirited
performances on wood.]

       *       *       *       *       *


PETER THE GREAT.


[What a mine of adventure and incident is the life of this extraordinary
man. A modern French writer enumerates 95 authors who have treated of
his actions, and concludes the list with _et cetera_ threefold.
What a field for the editors of the compilation libraries--wherein they
may store their little garners or volumes to advantage. Such has the
editor of the _Family Library_ done in the volume before us; although
he has only consulted one-fourth of the above number of authorities
for his memoir of the life of the Tzar. He prefaces with the modest
observation that he has done little more than bring together and arrange
the scattered fragments of Histories, Lives, Anecdotes, and Notices, in
manuscript and in print, "of one of the most extraordinary characters
that ever appeared on the great theatre of the world, in any age or
country;--a Being full of contradictions, yet consistent in all that he
did; a promoter of literature, arts, and sciences, yet without education
himself; the civilizer of his people, 'he gave a polish,' says Voltaire,
'to his nation, and was Himself a savage; he taught his people the art
of war, of which he was himself ignorant; from the first glance of a
small cock-boat, at the distance of five hundred miles of the nearest
sea, he became an expert ship-builder, created a powerful fleet, partly
constructed with his own hands, made himself an active and expert
sailor, a skilful pilot, a great captain: in short, he changed the
manners, the habits, the laws of the people, and very face of the
country." How different is this course of activity to the usual
luxurious lives of the sovereigns of civilized countries: how ill
assort Peter's "savage" notions with the accomplished ease and personal
elegance of a succeeding autocrat: how wide is the contrast between
Peter's ship-building education, and the youth of a prince passed
amidst court corruptionists--or pilotage over the boundless ocean, and
launching gilded pleasure-boats upon an unruffled lake; personally
watching the welfare of his subjects, or slinking into retirement, and
leaving their interests to the intrigues of party. Yet, such are a few
of the opposite characteristics--the every-day occupations--of the great
Tzar of Russia, and of the kingships of the last and present centuries.

The events of the life of Peter may be well known in detail to the
reader of the history of modern Europe. Yet they must be gathered from
many volumes; while in the above little book we have them brought in
amusing and sufficiently copious narrative, within 350 pages. We have
here the Tzar's war with Sweden--Narva, Pultowa, and the Pruth; but the
incidents that will prove most interesting to the _Family_ readers
are the domestic habits--the unkingly life of Peter; and above all, his
visit to England--how he drank deeply of pepper and brandy, lodged in
Buckingham-street, Strand; spoiled Mr. Evelyn's holly hedge at Sayes;
and peeped from the roof of the House of Lords at the King upon his
throne. We shall therefore endeavour to abridge a few of these
entertaining anecdotic details from the chapter devoted to the Tzar's
stay in England.]

Two ships of war and a yacht, under the orders of Admiral Mitchell, were
despatched to Helvoetsluys to bring over the Tzar, who, with his suite,
consisting of Menzikoff and some others, whose names are not mentioned,
embarked at that port on the 18th of January, 1698, and on the 21st
reached London. Here no secret was attempted to be made of his rank, but
he requested to be treated only as a private gentleman; and it is
remarkable enough that, though he paid frequent visits to the King, and
attended his court, his name never once appears in the only official
paper which then, as indeed now, was and is in existence, the London
Gazette. Lord Shrewsbury, at this time, was Secretary of State for
Foreign Affairs; but as the Tzar came not in any public character, he
appears to have been placed under the especial charge of the Marquess
Carmarthen, who was made lord president of the Council in the following
year. Between this nobleman and Peter a very considerable intimacy took
place, which was uninterrupted during the Tzar's abode in England. A
large house was hired for him and his suite at the bottom of
York-buildings where, it is stated in a private letter, the Marquess and
he used to spend their evenings together frequently in drinking "hot
pepper and brandy." The great failing of Peter, indeed, was his love of
strong liquors. We find in one of the papers of the day, that he took a
particular fancy to the nectar ambrosia, "the new cordial so called,
which the author, or compounder of it, presented him with, and that his
Majesty sent for more of it."

Of the proceedings of the Tzar, during the four months he remained
in England, very little is recorded in the few journals or other
publications of that day; the former consisting chiefly of the
_Postmaster_, the _Postman_, and the _Postboy_.

In the _Postboy_ it is stated that, on the day after his arrival,
the Tzar of Muscovy was at Kensington, to see his Majesty at dinner, as
also the court; but he was all the while _incognito._ And on the
Saturday following he was at the playhouse, to see the opera; that on
the Friday night the revels ended at the Temple, the same being
concluded by a fine masquerade, at which the Tzar of Muscovy was
present; that on the following Sunday he went in a hackney-coach to
Kensington, and returned at night to his lodgings in Norfolk-street,[7]
where he was attended by several of the King's servants.

His movements, during the rest of the month, were a journey to Woolwich
and Deptford, to see the docks and yards; then to the theatre, to see
the Rival Queens, or Alexander the Great; to St. James's, to be present
at a fine ball; and, it is further stated that he was about to remove
from Norfolk-street (York buildings) to Redriff, where a ship was
building for him; and that he was about to go to Chatham, to see a
man-of-war launched, which he was to name; and that on the 15th of
February, accompanied by the Marquess of Carmarthen, he went to
Deptford, and having spent some time on board the "Royal Transport,"
they were afterwards splendidly treated by Admiral Mitchell. These are
the principal notices concerning the Tzar Peter contained in the
_Postboy._

It is evident that London could not be very agreeable to him, on two
accounts; first, because his great object in coming here was to see our
dock-yard establishments, and to profit also by observing our mode of
making draughts of ships, and laying them off in the mould-loft; and to
acquire some knowledge in the theory of naval architecture and
navigation, which he had heard, when in Holland, was superior to what he
had seen or could obtain in that country, though it was assumed that the
mechanical part of finishing and putting together a ship was there fully
equal, if not superior, to ours.

In the next place, he was equally annoyed by the crowds he was
continually meeting in the streets of London, as he had been in
Amsterdam, and which he could not bear with becoming patience. It is
said that, as he was one day walking along the Strand, with his friend
the Marquess of Carmarthen, a porter, with a hod on his shoulder, rudely
pushed against him and drove him into the kennel. He was extremely
indignant, and ready to knock him down; but the Marquess interfering,
asked the man what he meant, and if he knew whom he had so rudely run
against, and "that it was the Tzar." The porter, turning round, replied,
with a grin, "Tzar! we are all Tzars here." But that which annoyed him
most of all, was the intrusion of our countrymen into his lodgings, and
into the room even where he was eating, to which they gained access
through the king's servants. Disgusted at their impertinent curiosity
he would sometimes rise from table, and leave the room in a rage. To
prevent this intrusion, he strictly charged his domestics not to admit
any persons whatever let their rank be what it might. A kind of forced
interview, however, was obtained by two Quakers, the account of which,
as given by one of them, is singular and interesting.

One month's residence having satisfied Peter as to what was to be seen
in London, and having expressed a strong desire to be near some of the
King's dockyards, it was arranged that a suitable residence should be
found near one of the river establishments; and the house of the
celebrated Mr. Evelyn, close to Deptford Dock-yard, being about to
become vacant, by the removal of Admiral Benbow, who was then its
tenant, it was immediately taken for the residence of the Tzar and
his suite; and a doorway was broken through the boundary wall of
the dock-yard, to afford a direct communication between it and the
dwelling-house. This place had then the name of Saye's Court. It was the
delight of Evelyn, and the wonder and admiration of all men of taste at
that time. The grounds are described, in the life of the Lord Keeper
Guildford, "as most boscaresque, being, as it were, an exemplary of
his (Evelyn's) book of forest trees." Admiral Benbow had given great
dissatisfaction to the proprietor as a tenant, for he observes in his
Diary--"I have the mortification of seeing, every day, much of my labour
and expense there impairing from want of a more polite tenant." It
appears, however, that the princely occupier was not a more "polite
tenant" than the rough sailor had been, for Mr. Evelyn's servant thus
writes to him,--"There is a house full of people _right nasty._ The
Tzar lies next your library, and dines in the parlour next your study.
He dines at ten o'clock and six at night; is very seldom at home a whole
day; very often in the King's yard, or by water, dressed in several
dresses. The King is expected there this day; the best parlour is pretty
clean for him to be entertained in. The King pays for all he has."[8]
But this was not all: Mr. Evelyn had a favourite holly-hedge, through
which, it is said, the Tzar, by way of exercise, used to be in the habit,
every morning, of trundling a wheel-barrow. Mr. Evelyn probably alludes
to this in the following passage, wherein he asks, "Is there, under the
heavens, a more glorious and refreshing object, of the kind, than an
impregnable hedge, of about four hundred feet in length, nine feet high,
and five in diameter, which I can still show in my ruined garden at
Saye's Court (thanks to the Tzar of Muscovy), at any time of the year,
glittering with its armed and variegated leaves; the taller standards,
at orderly distances, blushing with their natural coral? It mocks the
rudest assaults of the weather, beasts, or hedge-breakers,--et ilium
nemo impune lacessit."[9]

Alas! for the glory of the glittering hollies, trimmed hedges, and long
avenues of Saye's Court; Time, that great innovator, has demolished them
all, and Evelyn's favourite haunts and enchanting grounds have been
transformed into cabbage gardens; that portion of the Victualling-yard
where oxen and hogs are slaughtered and salted for the use of the navy,
now occupies the place of the shady walks and the trimmed hedges, which
the good old Evelyn so much delighted in; and on the site of the ancient
mansion now stands the common parish workhouse of Deptford Stroud.

We have little evidence that the Tzar, during his residence here,
ever worked as a shipwright; it would seem he was employed rather in
acquiring information on matters connected with naval architecture, from
that intelligent commissioner of the navy and surveyor, Sir Anthony
Deane, who, after the Marquess of Carmarthen, was his most intimate
English acquaintance. His fondness for sailing and managing boats,
however, was as eager here as in Holland; and these gentlemen were
almost daily with him on the Thames, sometimes in a sailing yacht, and
at others rowing in boats,--an exercise in which both the Tzar and the
Marquess are said to have excelled. The Navy Board received directions
from the Admiralty to hire two vessels, to be at the command of the
Tzar, whenever he should think proper to sail on the Thames, to improve
himself in seamanship. In addition to these, the King made him a present
of the "Royal Transport," with orders to have such alterations and
accommodations made in her, as his Tzarish Majesty might desire, and
also to change her masts, rigging, sails, &c., in any such way as he
might think proper for improving her sailing qualities. But his great
delight was to get into a small decked boat, belonging to the Dock-yard,
and taking only Menzikoff, and three or four others of his suite, to
work the vessel with them, he being the helmsman; by this practice he
said he should be able to teach them how to command ships when they
got home. Having finished their day's work, they used to resort to a
public-house in Great Tower-street, close to Tower Hill, to smoke their
pipes and drink beer and brandy. The landlord had the Tzar of Muscovy's
head painted and put up for his sign, which continued till the year
1808, when a person of the name of Waxel took a fancy to the old sign,
and offered the then occupier of the house to paint him a new one for
it. A copy was accordingly made from the original, which maintains its
station to the present day, as the sign of the "Tzar of Muscovy,"
looking like a true Tartar.

(_To be concluded in our next._)

    [7] This is an oversight of the Editor, as the Tzar resided in the
        last house in Buckingham-street, towards the river on the east
        side. It is a handsome mansion, containing some very spacious
        apartments, with some few relics of its original decoration.
        Upon the site of this and the adjoining streets was formerly a
        palace of the archbishops of York, the only vestige of which is
        the water-gate, called York Stairs erected by Inigo Jones.
        Throughout the narrative it will be seen that the Editor has
        mistaken Norfolk-street for Buckingham-street.--_Ed. M._

    [8] Memoirs of J. Evelyn.


    [9] Evelyn's Sylva.


       *       *       *       *       *




THE NATURALIST.

       *       *       *       *       *


STOMACH OF THE OSTRICH.

(_To the Editor_.)


Allow me to add, as a further illustration of the various and uncommon
substances sometimes found in the stomach of the Ostrich, mentioned at
page 262 of _The Mirror_, a fact which came under my own observation a
few months since, on the occasion of dissecting two full-grown birds
intended for the Surrey Zoological Gardens; but, which died while
performing quarantine in Stangate Creek. On opening the maw, the stomach
appeared distended to its fullest extent, and contained not less than
half a bushel of various substances, besides a large quantity of the
usual food in an undigested state, as, maize, barley, potatoes, onions,
&c. There was nearly a peck of stones, most of which were as smooth
and as highly polished as if they had passed through the hands of the
lapidary; a sample of which I enclose you. Among this mass I found
portions of tobacco-pipe, pieces of china and glass, brass buttons,
copper coins, nails, and what most likely caused the death of the bird,
a large quantity apparently of the head of a woollen mop, with portions
of oakum, which from its size and quantity had proved too much for the
bird to digest. It would appear, however, that many substances remain
for years in the folds of the stomach, without injury; as on opening
an Ostrich that died at Exeter 'Change after being some years in the
possession of Mr. Cross, there were found besides a large quantity of
rubbish, a handful of buttons, nails, marbles, stones, several keys,
the brass handle of a door, a copper extinguisher, a sailor's knife, a
butcher's hook, an iron comb, with penny pieces and coins to the amount
of 3_s._ 4-1/2_d._; and besides these various articles, there
were several cowries, glass beads, such as are used for the purposes
of traffic by the natives of the Barbary Coast, whence the bird was
brought; and it never having had the opportunity of getting at such
articles while in a state of confinement, little doubt remains of their
having been swallowed by the bird while in its native country.

Another instance may be added of a full grown Ostrich, that was for some
time in the possession of the Consul of Tripoli: during the period of
the bird remaining at his house, a silver snuff box, of considerable
size and value, was missing, and many were the persons suspected of
having stolen it. The bird was after the lapse of a few months shipped
as a present on board a frigate, and died during the voyage. The captain
had it opened to ascertain if possible the cause of its death, when, in
the stomach were found nails, keys, pieces of iron and copper, part of
a lantern, and the identical snuffbox, although the chasing and sharp
edges were worn completely smooth by the action of the stomach.

J. WARWICK.

_Surrey Zoological Gardens._

       *       *       *       *       *


THE CONDOR.


A pair of condors has lately been received from South America, for the
Surrey Zoological Gardens. They are male and female, and are stated to
be by far the largest specimens ever brought to this country, the male
measuring nearly 14 feet across the wings, and in height upwards of
three feet. They were brought from Chili, where they are sometimes met
with at an elevation of 15,000 feet above the level of the sea. During
the removal of the birds from the vessel, the male dropped one of his
largest wing feathers, the quill of which measures an inch and a half
in circumference.

     *       *       *       *       *




THE GATHERER.

       *       *       *       *       *


_The King_.--(_From the Spectator_.)--Touching the business habits of
the King, we have been favoured with the following statement, by a
gentleman on whose honesty we can place perfect reliance, and who has
ample opportunities of correct knowledge:--The attention of our present
excellent Sovereign to public business is truly exemplary; and whilst he
exceeds in regularity and despatch the habits of his late father,--whose
conduct in this respect has seldom been properly appreciated,--his
diligence forms a striking contrast to the supineness exhibited in the
late reign, when days and weeks sometimes elapsed before the Royal
signature could be obtained.

"The public learn from the Court Newsman that the King regularly comes
to town once a week, to receive his ministers, and for the transaction
of whatever business may be required; and these journeys are occasionally
repeated within a few days of each other without the slightest regard
for his personal convenience. Stronger proofs, however, exist of the
King's devotion to the duties of his station. Every document submitted
for his consideration and signature, is executed and returned to
the proper office within twenty-four hours after he receives it, and
generally within twelve hours. If a letter be addressed to Sir Herbert
Taylor or to Sir Henry Wheatley, no matter how trifling may be its
subject, it is certain of receiving an immediate and polite answer,
the contents of which show that his Majesty must undoubtedly have been
consulted; and if the request be refused, regret is expressed, and a
satisfactory reason is usually assigned. Those only who are aware of the
masses of papers submitted to the King, or of the innumerable subjects
on which his pleasure is taken, can appreciate the promptness, courtesy,
and decision which he displays; whilst in giving audiences, the extent
of his information, and his business-like habits, excite equal surprise
and satisfaction. When it is remembered that the King is above
sixty-seven years of age, the labour which he undergoes seems
extraordinary; and the admirable manner in which he executes his duties,
is consequently entitled to still higher applause. His office is indeed
no sinecure; and it would be well for the country if every department of
the State, and every public officer imitated the example set them by the
Sovereign.

"Before concluding this subject, justice demands that the manner in
which Sir Herbert Taylor and Sir Henry Wheatley conduct the Royal
correspondence, should not pass unnoticed; for, doubtless, a share of
the praise which has been here expressed of their Master's decision and
promptness, is due to them, and more especially for the extreme courtesy
with which their letters are written."

We had before heard the fact of the King's extraordinary punctuality in
signing papers, with this addition, that when they are more than
ordinarily numerous, the Queen sits at the table with her Royal husband,
lays the papers before him, and when signed, removes and arranges them,
like a secretary.

_Learned "Ladies."_--Mr. Murphy used to relate the following story
of Foote's, the heroines of which were the ladies Cheere, Fielding, and
Hill, the last the widow of the celebrated Dr. Hill. He represented them
as playing at "I love my love with a letter;" Lady Cheere began, and
said, "I love my love with an N because he is a Night;" Lady Fielding
followed with "I love my love with a G, because he is a Gustis;" and "I
love my love with an F," said Lady Hill, "because he is a Fizishun."
Such was the imputed orthography of these learned ladies.--_Taylor's
Records._

_Den._--The names of places ending in den, as Biddenden, are
perhaps not generally known to signify the situation to be in a valley,
or near woods.

J.E.J.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Mock-heroics._--Cowper, in one of his letters to Joseph Hill,
reminds his friend of the following mock-heroic line, written at one of
their convivial meetings, called the Nonsense Club--

  "To whom replied the Devil, _yard-long-tail'd_;"


And adds, "there never was anything more truly Grecian than that triple
epithet; and were it possible to introduce it either into the _Iliad_ or
_Odyssey,_ I should certainly steal it." This of course was written in
jest; and had the translator been disposed to exemplify his own pleasantry,
he might have found an opportunity in the well-known line of the sixth book
of the _Iliad_--


  [Greek: Aideomas Trôas ai Trôadas elkesipeplous.]

  I dread the Trojan ladies, yard-long-tail'd;


Of which Pope makes this sweeping periphrasis--

  "And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground."


E.B.I.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Burton Ale._--Many of our readers may recollect the dispute, about
three years since, between the Burton Ale brewers and the Useful
Knowledge Society, when the excellence of the ale was proved to be the
result of the hard water of which it was manufactured flowing over a
limestone rock. A chemist was dispatched to Burton, and the settlement
of the matter assumed the importance of a discovery; though in the last
century this fact was ingeniously explained by Dr. Darwin, in a letter
to Mr. Pilkington, upon the supposition that some of the saccharine
matter in the malt combines with the calcareous earth of hard waters,
and forms a sort of mineral sugar, which, like true sugar, is
convertible into spirits.

_Read-y Wit._--A young man, in a large company, descanting very
flippantly on a subject, his knowledge of which was evidently very
superficial, the Duchess of Devonshire asked his name. "'Tis
_Scarlet_," replied a gentleman who stood by. "That may be," said her
Grace, "and yet he is not _deep read_."

CANTON.

       *       *       *       *       *


_Anti-free Trade._--An odd instance of the restrictive system
occurred in the embassy from the emperor Otho to Nicephorus Phocas. The
Greeks making a display of their dress, he told them that in Lombardy
the common people wore as good clothes as they.--"How," they said, "can
you procure them?"--"Through the Venetians and Amalfitan dealers," he
replied, "who gain their subsistence by selling them to us." The foolish
Greeks were very angry, and declared that any dealer presuming to export
their fine clothes _should be flogged_.

       *       *       *       *       *

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