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THE 


PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF 


THE SOCIETY 


FOR THE 





DIFFUSION OF USEFUL KNOWLEDGE. 


1834. 


LONDON: 
CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 


eae Bap 





Price 6s. in Twelve Monthly Parts, and '7s.6d bound in Cloth. 


COMMITTEE. 


Chairman—The Right Hon. LORD BROUGHAM, F.R.S., Member of the National Institute of France. 
Vice-Chairman—The Right Hon. LORD JOHN RUSSELL, M.P. 


W. Allen, Esq., F.R. and R.A.S. 

Capt. F. Beaufort, R.N., F.R. and R.AS.,, 
Hydrographer to the Admiralty. 

Sir C. Bell, F.R.S.L. and E. 

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C. Hay Cameron, Esq. 

J. Bonham Carter, Esq,M.P. 

The Rt. Rev. the Bishop of Chichester, D.D 

William Coulson, Esq. 

R. DP. Craig, Esq. 

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Rt. Hon. Lord Denman. 

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Rt. Hon. Visc. Ebrtagton, M.P. 

Sir Henry Ellis, Prin, Lib. Brit, Mus. 


Anglesea—Rev. E, Williams, 
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William Gribble, sq. 

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Sir Edward Ryan. 
Jamex Young, sq. 

Cambridge—Rev. James Bowstead, M.A. 
Rev. Prof. Heuslow, M.A., F.L.S.&G.S. 
Rey. Leonard Jenyns, M.A., F.L.S. 
Rev, John Lodge, M.A. 7 


7) 


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LOCAL COMMITTEES. 


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— Norinan, Esq. 
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Glasgow—K. Finlay, £sq- 
Professor Mylne. . 
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Glumorganshire— Dr. Malkin, Cowbridge. 
W. Williams, Esq., Aberpergwm. 
Guernsey—F. C. Lukis, Esq. 
Hull—J. C. Parker, Esq. 
Keighley, Yorkshire—Rev. T. Dury, M.A. 
Luunceston—Rev. J. Barfitt. 
Leamington Spa—Dr. Loudon, M.D. 
Leeds—J. Marshall, Esq. 
Lewes—J. W. Woollgar, Esq. 
Limevickh— Wm, O’Brien, Esq. 
Liverpool Loc. As.—W. W. Currie, Esq. CA, 
J. Mulleneux, Esq., Zreasurer. 
Rev. W. Shepherd. 
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John Case, Esq. 
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Manchester Loc. As.—G. W. Wood, Esq., Ch. 
Benjamin Heywood, E.sq., Treasurer. 
T. W. Winstanley, Esq., Hon. Sec. 
Sir G. Philips, Bart., M.P. 
Benj. Gott, Esq. 
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| John Wrottesley, Esq,, A.M., F.R.A.S, 


~ 


Norwich—Rt. Hon. Lord Suffield. 

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Oxford—Dr. Daubeny, F.K.S. Prof. of Chem, 

Rev. Prof. Powell, 

Rev. John Jordan, B.A. 

Rev. R. Walker, M.A., F.R.S. 

E. W. Head, Esq., M.A. 

_W.R. Browne, Esq., B.A. 
Penang—Sir B. H. Malkin. 
Plymouth—H. Woollecombe, Esq., F, A. 8. 
Chairman. 

Snow Harris, Esq., F.R.S. 

E. Moore, M.D., F.L.S., Secretary. 

G. Wightwick, Feq. 

Presteign—Dr. A. W. Davies, M.D. 
Rippon—Rev. H. P. Hamilton, M.A., F.RS. 
and G.S. 
Rev. P. Ewart, M.A. 
Ruthen—Rev. the Warden of. 

Humphreys Jones, Esq. 

Ryde, 1. of Vight—Sir Rd. Slmeon, Bt., M.P. 
Sheffield—J. H. Abraham, Esq. 

Shepton Mullet—G. F. Burroughs, Esq. 
Shrewsbury—R. A.Slaney, Esq., M.P. 

South Petherton—John Nicholetts, Esq. 

St, Asaph—Rev. George Strong. 
Stockport—H, Marsland, Esq., Treasurer. 

Henry Coppock, Esq., Secretary. 
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Henry Sewell Stokes, Esq. 

Tunbridge Weils—Dr. Yeats, M.D. 
Warwick—Dr. Conolly. 

The Rey. William Field, (eamington.) 
Waterford—Sir John Newport, Bt. 
Woiverhampton—J. Pearson, Esq. 
Worcester—Dr. Corbett, M.D. 

Dr. Hastings, M.D. 

C. H. Hebb, Esq. 

Wrexhum—Thomas Edgworth, Esq. 

J. E.Bowman, Esq., F.L.S., Zreasurer, 

Major William J.loyd. 

Yarmouth—C. E, Rumbold, Esq. M.P, 

Dawson Turner, Esq. 

York—Rev. J. Kenrick, M.A. 
J. Phillips, Esq., F.R.S., F.G.S. 


THOMAS COATES, Esq., Secretary, No. 59, Lincoin’s Inn Fields. 








Frinted by Winu1am CLowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 





: INDEX TO VOLUME III. 


ABBEY, expenditure of a great one, 7. 

Accounts, importance of accuracy in, 451. 

Activity, advantage of, 31. 

Adjutant, or gigantie crane, voracity of, 41. 

Adoration of the Shepherds, by Spagnoletto, notice 
of, 146. : 

Algicrs, historical and descriptive account of, 490, 

Allspice-tree, account of, 282. : 

America, account of the trade with, 6, 

Amiens Cathedral, description of, 52. 

mre historical and descriptive account 
of, 317. 

Appearances, false, their likeness to truth, 360, 








Aracari, curlerested, description of, 105. 
Argand lamp, description of, 119. 

Anrora, Guido’s picture of, critical notice of, 4, 
Auscultati m, discovery and practice of, 71, 


Bacon, Lord, observations by, 172, 399. 
Balbec, preseut stateof the ruins of, 43. 
Balsa, description of 150. d 
ink of England, de¢ription of, 348. 
Barrows, account of, 04, 

Bat, the Kalong, desctiption of, 306. 
Bats, nature and habils of, 305. 


i cleanliness, &c., adyice with respect to, 


















Bay-tree, account of, 44. 

Beards, observations o, 367. 

Beauvais, town and eahedral, account of, 67. 
Bedford Level, accounfof the, 133. 

Bedouin Arabs, narratie concerning the, 227. 
Bee management, imprq@ed system of, 11. 
Bells, account of, 404. 4 






Bison, natural history of t\e, 273. 
Boa Constrictor, account 


by Milton on the diffusion \f, 237; personal cha- 
racter of, 247; ancient chuth, their value, 415. 
Boy extracting a Thorn, statig of, 233. 
Bread, mode of making in theRast, 2. 
Bristul, historical and descripive account of, 450, 
473. 
Broek, village of, described, 55. 
Burning of a ship at sea, and s 
vivors of the crew, 260. 


Cacoa, best mode of preparing f& use, 188; tree, 
account of, 116. 

Caernarvon Castle, account of, 207. 

Calabash-tree, description of, 416. 

California, Indians of, some account 
bath. in, 371. ’ 

Canterbury Cathedral, historical an\ descriptive 
account of, 73. 

Capability greater than performance, 

Capri, island of, account of, 276. 

Caravanserays, account of, 425. 

Caspar Hauser, biographical notices of, 

Cat, anecdote of the gratitude ofa, 234. 

Cat painter, biographical notiee of a, 86. ‘ 

Cemeteries, account of, 173; observations'pn, 298, 

Chagrin, effect of, 223. 

Chance defined, 220. 

Chappows of the Turkomans, account of, } 4. 

Chestnuts, manner of clearing them from tha husk 
in Savoy, 244. 

Chetah, or hunting leopard, descriptive 
of, 31. 

Chincse junk, description of, 9. | 

Chili, aborigines of, 318; horsemanship in, 323, 

Chinese barbers, 172; poem, account of a, 08; 
women, description of, 371 ; inhabitants of bouts, 
37. \ 

Chlamyphorus truncatus, description of, 49. \ 

Church nosegays, curious custom relating to, 415.) 


f, 593 vapour- 


7» 90, 58. 


| etch 
| 


Cinnamon and cassia, } 12. ! 
Civilization, life prolonged by, 390. , 
Cities of Silence, or Turkish burial- grounds, 236. 
Cleanliness, advice with respect to, 438. 


Clocks, historical account of, 187; description of the | 


machinery of, 195; striking machinery of, 220. 
seis manner of printing in the South Sea Islands, 
2 


Coaches, historical notice of, 321. 

Coffee, best mode of preparing for usc, 228. 

Common qualitics, value of, 184. 

Commons, House of, origin of, 506; facts relating 
to the early condition of, 507. 

Conveniences, comparison of past and present, 180. 

Corfu, account of, 394. 

Cornish fishermen, account of, 262. 


Cornwall, mines in, on the system of contracts 
pursued at, 500, 





Cromwell, Richard, anecdote of, 96. 
Cuttle-tish, natural history of the, 324. 


DELAY, lines on by Spenser, 399. 

Descent from the Cross, by Rubens, notice of, 301. 

Dispensaries, self-supporting, account of, 238. 

Dodo, relics of, 4. 

Dogs used in smuggling, 195; wild, m Van Die- 
men’s Land, 197, 270; in the Western Ghauts 
of India, 205. 

Domeuichino, biographical sketch of, 356; his pic- 
ture of Adneas preparing to carry his father from 
Troy, 357. 

Dove-Dale, description of, 108. 

Draught horses, English management of, 43. 

Dress and clothes in the thirteenth century, 112. 

Dutch clerks, their skill, 399. 


EEE CATION? difficulty of supplying the want 

Ol; 

East India Company, historical account of the, 84; 
Indian notions of, 323, 

Economy described, 184. 

Edvard I., parliament of, 493. 

Election, a recent one in Greece, 14. 

Elephant, first arrival of oue in England, 63. 

Eltham Palace, subtcrranean passages at, 399: 

Ely Cathedral, account of, 245, 

Entire application, necessity of, 184. 

Esquimaux, board and lodging of, 336; near Cape 
Lisburn, account of, 300. 

4 ea thodnl description and historical sketch 
Ol, ° 


FEASTING the poor previous to the establishment of 
the Poor-Laws, 60. 

Fire, on the means of procuring, 284, 

Fish, drowning a, 319. 

Fishmongers’ Company, account of the, 57, 

Flamingo, natural history of the, 225, 

Franklin, Dr., character of, 24; loan by, 371. 

Freiburg, account of, 178. 

Fugger Family, account of the, 269, 


GAMBIER ISLANDERS, thievish disposition of, 315; 
mode of salutation among, 327. 

Gas, history of, 373; manufacture of, 427, 452, 458 ; 
oil-gas, 492. 

Gaveston, Piers, detail of the circumstances con- 
nected with his death, 363. 

Genius, 2 definition of, 184. 

Ghosts, remarks on the belief in, 234. 

Gibraltar, historical notice of, 19; monkeys at, ac- 
count of, 6. 

Gipsies, on the origin of, 235. 

Glass, historical account of, and process of making, 
1718: 

Goitres, short account of, 150. 

Goldsmiths’ Company, account of the, 17. 

Gondola, description of, 159. 

Good old times described, 207. 

Gooseberries, cultivation of in the north of England, 
314. 

Gray, the poet, 115. 

Guido’s painting of the Aurora, 4. 

Guy’s Hospital], biographical sketch of the founder 
of, 286. 


HAARLEM OrG@ay, notice of, 336. 

Habit, a depraved onc cured, and false prejudice 
overcome, 142. 

Haddon Hall, description of, 263. 

Hair, effect of the atmosphere on, 300. 

Halifax, account of, 100. 

Hampton Court Palace, description of, 20. 

Hastings, castle of, and St. Mary’s Chapel, 375. 

Hawkiug, historical aud descriptive account of, 
390, 410, 463, 475. 

Heriot, George, bicgraphical notice of, 280. 

High lights, remark of Lord Bacon on, 358. 

Himalaya Mountains, site of a convalescent esta- 
blishment in the, 14. 

Hogarth’s Works, descriptive account of, 121; Mar- 
riage-a-la-Mode, 124; the Cockpit, 124; Indus- 
try and Idleness, 209, 249; the Enraged Musi- 
eian, 287; the Distrest Poet, 329; the Rakc’s 
Progress, 378; Blunders in Perspective, 401; the 
Politician, 431. 

Homeopathy, account of the system of, 115. 

Houses, their style and furniture in the age of 
Queen Elizabeth, 235. 

Hull, historical and descriptive account of, 354, 

Hybernation of animals, observations on, 499. 

Hydra, account of the island of, 322. 


IckLAND, extraordinary article in the ecclesiastical 
code of, 107. 

Illuminated printing, 63. 

Imagination, on the faculty of, 96. 

Incredulity the wit of fools, 184. 


| Tndaan rivers, description of, 399, 


Indian chief of North America, narrative of his 
life, 282. 

ati, Seoie Ghauts of, account of the wild dogs 
of, an 

Inns and conveyances in London in 1684, 463. 

Ischia, description of the island of, 241. 


JAcA, or Bread-fruit tree, description of, 433 
Java, barbarous combats in, 408. 
Jews, persecution of the, 72. 


KENSALL-GREEN, cemetery at, account of, 299. 
Kitchens of King John, 60. 

Knife-grinder, by Teniers, notice of, 257. 
Kuowledge and ignorance, 184. 

on remarks on by Bacon and Buchanail; 
Koords, narrative of a journey among the, 258. 
Kotzebue’s Sound, female ornameuts used in, 371. 


LAnourers oF Evrore: Peasantry of the Alps— 
Savoy, 90; Switzerland, 106. 

mt Supper, Leonardo da Vinci’s picture of thes 

‘ Le Roi Boit, by Jordaens, notice of, 499. 

Leo X., biographical sketch of, 473. 

Leonardo da Vinci, biographical uotice of, 92. 

Linc, Equinoctial, usage on passing the, 150. 

Local attachment, anecdote eoncerning, 119. 

Locust, deseriptive account of, 23. 

London, Milton’s view of the mind of, 238. , 

Lords, House of, information relating to, 466. 

Lotus, the Egyptian, description of, 217. 

Louvain, account of, 12. 

Luxor, obelisk of, account of its transportation to 
Paris, 61, 66. 


MapEIRA, description of the island of, 460. 

Mahomet Ii., biographical sketch of, 140. 

Mahommedan devotions, account of, 372. 

Malta, account of, 151. 

Mammee-tree, description of, 268. 

Mango-tree, description of, 81. 

Manilla, cigar manufactory in, description of, 246. 

eee process of obtaining the gum from, 

Marmot, Alpine, natural history of, 247. 

Murriages, ancient, 107. 

Matrimonial forbearanccs, 107. 

Mechanics’ Institutions, hints for improving, and 
for extending the utility of, 484. 

Mecrza Abul Hassan, the Persian ambassador, 
narrative relating to, 407, 413. 

Mehmandars, account of a journey with, 94. 

Menai Suspension Bridge, account of, 439. 

Merino sheep, account of, and management of the 
flocks in Spain, 346. 

Milo, island of, narrative of a visit to, 182, 190. 

Mineral Kingdom; general account of the metals, 
331; iron-ore, 387; method of obtaining the 
mctal from clay irou-stone, 396 ; different methods 
of smelting iron, 402; copper-ores, 482; copper- 
mines of Cornwall, 502. 

Mincs in Cornwall, on the system of contracts pur- 
sued at, 500. 

Mirage, description of, 28. 

Mohammedan schools, account of, 434. 

Moonbeams, effect of at sea, 319. 

Morning meetings, Spanish custom of, 14. 

Mounds of the Tigris, account of, 3-5. 

Murillo, biographical sketch cf, 113. 

Music, observations on, 156, 170, 188; its influence 
on the mind, 42. - 
Music for the Many, historical notices concerning, 

82, 93, 110. 


Navptia, account of, 310. 

Negro character, amiable trait in, 172. 

‘Never too late’ applied to the cultivation of the 
mind, 223. 

Newcastle-upon-Tyne, account of, 185. 

Newfoundland dog, qualities and habits of the, 
15. 

Newspapers, on the trausmission of by post, 96. 

Niagara Whirlpool, anccdote relating to the, 279. 

Norwich Castle, description of, 103. 


Otp TRAVELLERS: William de Rubruquis, 266; 
303, 326, 350; Busbequius, 485. 

Opium, qualities and use of, 397. 

Ostade, critical notice of his works, 180. 

Ostrich, swiftness of the, 88. é 

Otaheite, making friends in, 371; administration 
of justice in, 375; houses in, 430; prophetic bird 
in, 462; sacred pig in, 478; Wallis’s visit to, 4783 
human sacrifices in, 482. , 

Otier, habits of, and mode of hunting, 495, 503. 

Oxford, historical and deseriptive account of, 418. 


Painrep CHAMBER, account of the, 458, 
Painting in the thirteenth century, 109, 


‘Parliament, Honses of, historical and descriptive 
account of, 442, 443; aeeount of the burning of, 
44°; tapestry of the House of Lords, 4535; the 
Painted Chamber, 458; information relating to 
the House of Lords, 466; origin of the House of 
Commons, 506; faets illustrative of its carly eon- 
dition, 507. 

Parrot,.the gray, aneedote of one, 119. 

Parsees, account of the, 138. 

Patronage, observations on, from the‘ Rambler, 

220 

Pauperism, remarks on the progress of, 231. 

Peak Cavern, in Derbyshire, description of, 148, 

Pere la Chaise, cemetery of, 270. 

Perpetual motion, observations on, 2. 

Perseverance of an ant, noticed by Tamerlane, 149. 

Persia, instanee of compulsory service in, 233; 
usages with respect to presents in, 319. 

Peruvian sepulchres, 107. 


Peter the Wild Boy, some particulars concerning, 8. | 


Piazza del Popolo, aecount of, 362. 

Pin, new patent, account of, 8. 

** Place of Fire,” and Naphtha Springs of Sherwan, 
account of, 41. . 

Poets in Persia, aceount of, 117. 

Pola-Phuca Waterfall in Ireland, notice of, 328. 

Pompeii, house of the Faun at, description of, 229. 

Pompey’s Pillar, aecount of, 137. 

Post Office, history and present state of, 33. 

Practical Instruction, aneedotc eoncerning, 184. 

Praise, remark of Goldsmith on, 150. 

Presents, usages with respeet to, in Persia, 319. 

Professions aud Trades of the Metropolis, 46, 70. 

Pulse, observations on the, 63. 

Pyramid Cemetery, description of, 389. 


Ras, anecdote of, 492. 

Reading, advice respecting, 462. 

‘Remote views, 184. 

‘Reserve, remark on, 107. 

Rheims, city and eathedral, description of, 370. 
Rhinoceros, one-horned, aeceount of, 153. 

Rialto, at Veniee, deseription of, 410. 

Riches, stanza on by Spenser, 336. 

Robin, aneedote of a, 503. 

Homa History, impression produced by reading, 
Roman Piazze, or Squares, account of, 362. 
Botiaslom, historical and descriptive account of, 


INDEX. 


Routine education, anecdote eoneerning, 184. 

Royal George, narrative of the loss of the, 174. 

Rubens, his pieture of the Descent from the Cross, 
eritieal observations on, 301. 

Runic stones, observations on, 462. 


SACKHEUSE, JouN, the Esquimaux, biographical 
sketch of, 309. i 

-St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Dublin, description of, 130. 

St. Paul’s Cathedral, historical and descriptive ac- 
eount of, 161. 

Salmon-fishing on the coast of Antrim, and saga- 
elty ofa dog, 184. 

Salt-water lake in India, description of, 222. 

San Marino, aecount of the republic of, 201. 

Saudwich Islands, first-use of the gallows in, 358. 

Savages, on the physical powers of, 99. 

Savoy, manner of cultivating the vines in, 247. 

Scarborough Castle, historieal notice of, 143. 

Seratchell’s Bay, in the Isle of Wight, 139. 

Self-advancement, instance of, 275. 

Self-love, remark on, by Bacon, 4¢9. 

Shakspeare’s Cliff, 27. .. 

Shaving, observatious on, 386. 

Similes from Firdousee, 188. 

Slate, its applicability for. pavements, 96. 

Slavery in the East, descriptive sketch of, 243. 

‘Smoker,’ by Ostade, notiec of, 181. 

Snow-harvest at Naples and in Sieily, 335, 347. 

Snow-houses inhabited by the Esqnimaux, 223. 

Solitude, verses by Cowley on, 60. 

Songs of the Seasons: tlie Spring Song, 96. 

Spada, biographical notice of, 223. 

gO critical remarks on the paintings of, 

45. 

Spider, natural history of the, 131; its process for 
disengaging itself from its skin, 239. 

Sponge, mode of diving for, 2’7. 

Spring, indieations of, 150, 2387, 

Statisties of Paris, abstraet of, 218. 

Stonchenge, deseription of, 69. 

Stork, the White, natural listory of, 89. 

Sneno’s Pillar at Forres, description of, and his- 
torical remarks on, 308. 

Suspension Bridges, observations on, 439; of the 
Himalaya, 280. 

Swedish peasants, their frugal fare and affection 
for horses, 72. 


| TAMARIND TREE, brief notice of, 97 


Tengaay of the House of Loyds, description of, 
3 


Tapir, the Indian, natural history of, 193. 

Temperanee, advantages of, 30. 

Teniers, biographical sketeli of, 258. 

Terriers, English and Seoteli, description of, 65. 

Theories, observation on, by Chalmers, 238. 

Thirst quenched without drinking, 300. 

! This is Life,’ verses by Henry King, 14. 

Thruashes, their manner of breaking the shells of 
snails, 12. 

Tiger, effect of fear on a, 303. 

Tilbury Fort, short notice of, 64. 

Time-piece, a curious, 14. 

Treves, Black Gate of, historical sketch relating to, 
487. 

Truth, progress of, 149. 

Turkey and Egypt, description of the houses in, 
198.° 


Tutbury in Staffordshire, silver eoins found at, 
430. L 
Twellth Night, customs relating to, 497. ’ 


Unrrep Sratrs, common schools in the, 478. 7 
Upnor Castle, account of, 260. 


-VAIN REGRET, a song, 4. 


Van Diemen’s Land, wild dogs in, 197,270; descrip- 
tion of the natives of, 235. 

Vegetable acquisitions, observations on, 

Virtue, remark of Bacon on, 415. | 

Volcanic island near Sicily, account of, 10. 

Volcanic island off the Azores, notice of, 26. 

WartTHam Cross, aceount of, J. 

Westminster Abbey, deseriptve account of, 289; 
musieal festivals at, 294; istorical account of, 
333; monuments of, 339. 

Wilkinson, Isaae and John, tleir improvements in 
thle casting of iron, 327. , 

Wish, verses by Rogers, 51. 

Wolf, character and habits ofthe, 169. ; 

Wonder, remark on, by Baeoa, 435, 

Writing, advantages of the pnetice of, 463. 










Yor« Castle and Cliffords Towcr, sketch of 
351. = | 

‘Young Beggar, by Murillc notice of, 114, 

Youth, observation on by Jhnson, 172. 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





113.] 





‘WALTHAM Cross was 
built within the last 
ten years of the thir- 
teenth century, when 
the pointed style of 
architecture was un- 
dergoing a change, or 
pass om the first 

the second period. 
ne of about fif- 
teen which were erect- 
ed by Edward I., in 

emory of his affec- 













~ wife Eleanor of Cas- 
tile, in the . places 
where her corpse was 
rested for the night, 
in the long and melan- 
choly journey which 
he himself made with 
i from Herdeley in 

Nottinghamshire, not 







_ far from which place 
she died, to Westmin- 
ster Abbey, where it 
was buried in the cha- 
pel of King Edward 
the Confessor. They 
were long known 
as’ Queen Eleanor’s 
crosses, and although 
all but three of them 
have perished, tradi- 
tion still marks the 
sites of most of the 
number. Charing- 
Cross derives its name 
from the last of the 
series, and the other 
two still existing, be- 
sides Waltham, are 
at Northampton and 
Geddington. ss 
This one of the se- 
ries of beautiful me- 
morials of conjugal 
love, and perhaps the 
most beautiful ofthem 
all, had fallen so much 
into decay as_ to 
become an _ almost 
shapeless mass of 
stone. A few years 
more would have left 
nothing of- Waltham 
Cross remaining: but 
the name. - Fortu- 
nately the attention 
of the neighbouring 
gentry, and of others 
who take an interest 
in such subjects, was 


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[January 4, 1834, 





called to this while it 
was yet time to save 
something of its pris- 
tine form and matter, 
and while it still af- 
forded indications up- 
on which much that 
was deficient might 
be restored. A meet- 
ing was consequently 
held, at which Colonel 
Moody of the Roval 
Engineers presided ; 
resolutions were en- 
tered into to raise 
money by subscrip- 
tion for the purpose 
of restoring or repair- 
ing the monumient, 
and a_ subscription 
was immediately com- 
menced by those who 
were present. The 
designing and direc- 
tion of the work were 
intrusted to Mr. “‘W. 
B. Clarke, assisted by 
a committee of the 
subscribers. The re- 
storation is, wpon the 
whole, satisfactory. 

The subscription 
which has been en- 
tered into for the pur- 
pose of repairing this 
interesting monument 
is very creditable to 
those who have set it 
on foot. It is plea- 
sant to find a spirit 
of attachment to our 
old historical meino- 
rials springing up on 
every side. The last 
generation, and those 
who went before them, 
were too much in the 
habit of destroying 
the relics of their fore- 
fathers,—at any rate, 
of leaving time to 
work their destruc- 
tion. We have learnt 
that the ancient mo- 
numents of a nation 
are amongst its best 
possessions. . 

Mr. Clarke has 
favoured us with a 
drawing of the an- 
nexed wood-cut,which 
exhibits the Cross as 
restored. 


B 


PERPETUAL MOTION. 


(From a Correspondent.) 


An able writer in the ‘Penny Magazine’ has clearly 
shown the futility of seeking -to square the circle, a 
pursnit in which, he says, persons are still engaged. 

ow many may waste their time on such an object I 
p08 no means of knowing ;—not any considcrable 
number, I should think, as nobody can expect any 
profit to arise even from success. At all events, such 
enthusiasts must be few indced compared with those 
who are spending their days and nights, and ex- 
hausting their means, in the equally vain hope of dis- 
covering the perpetual motion. Professional men, 
employed in preparing patents, could tell of project 
atter project submitted to them by the impatient in- 
ventor who is afraid of waiting to perfect his machine, 
lest his invaluable secret sltould vet abroad, and he 
should be depr ived of the riches which he has all but in 
his oTasp. 

Twe classes of persons are invci¢led into this hope- 
less quest : the first is the projector .—eenerally a man 
who can handle tools, and who is gifted with some 
small power of invention,—a faculty, as Mr. Babbage 
justly observes, by no means rare, and of little use 
unless coupled with some knowledge of what others 
have done before him. Of the inventions already made, 
—of the experiments which have been tried and have 
failed,—our projectorsis usually profoundly ignorant. 
What are called the laws of mechanics, namely, g reneral 
truths which were established by the observations of 
scientific men in times past, and which are now ac- 
mitted by all who take the trouble to investig ate them, 
he has either ncyer heard of or chooses to Sct at noug ht 
The other class is that which finds 


»-+ += ses @ 


little money rs spare, 4c. dazzles him with the prosppets 
of sudden and splendid wealth : little by little he 3 is drawn 
into expenses which neither of them perhaps had a an- 
ticipated. Failure after failure ensues, but still all is to 
be right at last. The fear of ridicule, te necessity 
for retrieving, the one his capital, the other his credit, — 
these motives car ry them on till the ruin of both puts a a 
termination ta their: folly. 

Unhappily, however, the stage is quickly occupied by. 
other adventurers, profiting nothing by the fate of their 
precursors; and yet one would think that a, very slic ht 
consideration of the subject would be sufficient to show 
the absurdity of the undertaking. What is the object 
aimed at? Is it to make a machine which, being once 
set in’ motion, shall go on without stopping 1 until it 1s 
worn out? Every person engaged i in the pursuit | of the 
perpetual motion would perhaps accept this as a true 
statement of the object in view. Yet nothing i is more 
easy than to make such a machine. There are from ten 
to twenty of them at work at this moment on the Rhine, 
opposite Mayence. hese are water-mills ia boats, 
which are moored in a certain part of the river; and, as 
the Rhine is never dry, these mills, which are simple i in 

sheir construction, would go on for years,—go on, 

indced, until they were worn out. But if this instance 
were mentioned, the projector would perceive that the 
statcment of his object was imperfect. It must run 
thus :—a machine which, being set in motion, shall go 
on till worn out without any power being employed t to 
keep it in motion. 

P cabally few persons who embark in such a project 
sit down beforehand to consider thoroughly what it is 
they are about to undertake, otherwise it could hardly 
require much knowledge of mechanics to see the um- 
possibility of constructing such a machine. ‘Take as 
many shafts, wheels, pulleys, and springs as you please: 
if you throw them in a heap in the corner of your room, 


vou do not expect them to move; it is only when put | 


2 THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


| endowed with the power of self-movement ; 


' 
together that the wildest enthusiast expects them to be 
nor then 
unless the machine is set going. I never heard of a 
projector who expected his engine to sct off the noment 
the last nail was driven, or “instantly on the last stroke 
of the file. And why not? A inachine that would con- 
tinue to go of itself would begin of itself. No machine 
can be made which has not some friction, which, how- 
ever slight, would in a short time exhaust any power 
that could have been employcd merely for the pnrpose 
of setting it in motion. But a machine, to be of any 
use, must not only keep moving itself, but furnish 
power; or, in other words, it must not only keep in mo- 
tion, but it must have power to expend in some labqur, 
as crinding corn, rolling metals, urging forward a 
vessc] or a carriage; so that, by an arrangement of 
parts which of themselvcs have ne moxing power, the 







projector expects to make a machine, self-moying, and 
with the power of performing some useful tas! . 

““ Father, I have invented a perpetual moti n!? said 
a little fellow of eight years old. “f It is th would 


make a great wheel, and fix it up like a water-wheel ; at 
the top ¥ wowd hang a great weight, and at: the 
bottom I would hang a number of little weights ; then 
the oreat weight wool turn the whecl half — and 
sink'to the bottom, because it is so heavy, and when the 
little weights reached the top, they would sink down 
because they are §0 Miauy, and thus the wheel would 
turn round for ever.” ‘The child’s fallacy is a type of 
all the blunders which are made on this subject. Follow 
a projector in his description, and if it be not perfectly 
unintelligible, which it often is, it always proves that lie 
expects to find certain of his movements alternately 
strong and weak, not according to the laws of nature, 
but according to the wants of his mechanism. 

If man conld produce a machine which would generate 
the power by which it is worked, he would become a 
creator. All he has hitherto done,—all, I may safely 
predict, he ever will do,—is to mould existing power so 
as to make it perform his bidding. He can make the 
waterfall i in the brook spin his cotton, or print his boolx 
by means of machinery, but a mill to’ pump water 
enough to keep itself at work he cannot make, " Absurd 
as it may seem, the exper iment has been tr ied ; but, in 








_e -s-meoee 


seekers after ‘perpetual inotion. ' A machine, then, is a 
mere ‘conductor of power info a uscful channel. The 
wind grinds the corn,—the sails, the shafts, and. the 
stones are only the ‘Means by which the power of the 
wind can be turned to that J articular purpose; so it is 
the heat thrown | out by the burning coal which per- 
forms. ‘all the multifarions “aperations of the steam- 
engine, ‘the nachinery being only ‘the connecting links 
between the cause and the effect. 

Perhaps these remarks may induce any projector who 
has not yet begun, to pause on his enterprise 3 and may 
cause those who are about to advance their capital in 
such vain speculations, to examine ‘the probabilities ofa 


return for their outlay. > 


=" 


oo oO 


BREAD IN THE EAST. 


A PERSON accustomed to the lengthened processes by 
which food is prepared in Europe, i is considerably sur- 
prised when brought to observe the rapidity of similar 
preparations In the Bast. A sheep is killed, flayed, and 
cooked in the course of an hour and a Li clidin coffee is 
roasted, ground, and boiled in about ten minutes; ; and 
meal is ‘Kkneqded and baked--and perhaps the e¢orn 
eround—in seldom more than twenty minutes. Much 
of this may be accounted for by the heat of the climate, 
by which many articles would be spoiled if kept too 
long previously to being used. Meat wonld be tainted 
in less than a day; the oily principle in coffee would 
soon be lost, and its pleasant aroma evaporate; snd 


| January 4, 











1834.} 


the common origin of the various tribes of people who 
inhabit the countries between the Indus and Mediter- 
ranean; for such is the wonderful tenacity with which 
ancient habits are retained in the East; that im one state 
of scciety we frequently find the usa@es of another, 
more early and fude, persisted in. Four thousand 
years ago, when the hospitable patriarch wished to 
place some refreshment before those who appeared to 
him as travellers in haste; he directed bread to be baked, 
and a calf to be killed and dressed for their entertain- 
ment. Hospitality would still be exhibited in the 
same form under similar circumstances; and, in any 
circumstances, as little delay would occur in the pre- 
paration of food, although it had as many processes to 








— go through 
The various modes in which the grain is disengaged 
froin the ear, reduced to meal, and made into bread, are 









all so different from our own, that onc who has wit- 
messed what he describes is led to think a connected 
view of the subject will not be unacceptable to the 
readers of the ‘ Penny Magazine.’ 

In or near villages there are usually inclosed thresh- 
ing floors, perfectly level, and laid over with a compost 
of clay and cow-dung, to prevent gravel and earth from 
being mingled with the grain. But generally, as it 
would be inconvenient to take the sheaves from the 
fields to the villages to be threshed, the husbandman 
seeks out some level spot on his #foutids; to which the 
produce of the Harvest is conveyed on fli¢ backs of his 
varicus cattle. At this place a portion of the corn in 
the ear is laid out in a circle of about a hundred paces 
in circumference, seven or eight fcet wide, and from 

fifteen inches fo two feét in height: - When it is thus 

disposed; there are varidus methods of obfainine a 

separation of the grain from the ear;—all of them more 

expeditious though less cleanly than ours: It is often 
etfécted by simple treading: Oxen, and sometimes 
othér cattle, are tied two or three together; and drivén 
around upon the circle. As this exercise greatly fatigues 
thém, they are frequently rclieved: In some parts oxen 
aré employed to draw a stone cylinder over the corn ; 
and, in the westerm parts of Asiatic Turkey, a plank or 
frame of wood, the lower surface of which is roughened 
with sharp stones; is the implement in use. But, in 
Persia and the eastern parts of ‘Turkey, they have a 
frame-work, to which is attached two or three revolving 
cylinders of wood, bristled with spikes of different 
lengths, and which may not unaptly be compared to the 
barrel of an organ. ‘These teeth punch out the grain 
with considerable effect; and chop and crush the straw 
at the same time. On the platform of this sufficiently 
clumsy machine sits a man who whips on the cattle,— 
generally a couple of oxen,—which ‘in all these pro- 
cesses have a beam laid over their necks. Men are 
always in attendance with wooden forks, which have 
often many tceth spreading out like a fan, to keep the 
ears properly distributed; and to withdraw, into the 
clear centre of the circle, the straw on the surface which 
appears to have béen sufficiently threshed. When the 
grain seems completely discrivaged, it is thrown up with 
spades against the wind; so that the separated rain, 
the chaff, and the uucrushed ears fell at: different dis- 







tances: ‘The latter are thrown by among: the material | 


cf the next layer, When one layer has béen threshed, 
and the graiw removed, the straw which had beei! with- 
drawn into the écntrak space, is #éplaced in the rig, 
and driven over to be é¢rushed and chopped fox the use 
cf the cattle, whose food is composed of barléy and 
chepped straw, as they use neither hay nor oats in the 
East, 
cavelul collection of the éleds of earth to which any 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 


‘the process of threshing concludes with the | 


3 


~-% eo @ ao 


‘Ihe very primitive process of grinding the corn is 
less varied than that of threshing. It is performed by 
the means of two small circular mill-stonés. The 
lowermost stone is immoveable when in use; but the 
uppermost beitié turned round by a wooden handle ot 
pin, the corn betwécn the two surfaces is eround;- and 
tle meal falling out at the edges, is received in a éloth; 
whilé the mill is contifiually replénished through a-hole 
in the upper stone. This labotir is generally performed 
in the early morning by the women of the household: 
They sit upon the grourid; commonly two to a mil, the 
lower patt of which is held between their tegs:. As the 


/upper stone is whirled round, the women beguile their 
‘labours by singing; at the top of their voices, certain 


sones which stem almost appropriated to this scrvice. 


The simultancous noise of grindipg and singme in an 
Oriental city warns the indolent tnat it is time to rise ; 


and the absence of such sounds is noticed in the Cld . 
Testament as a mark of desolation. This mode of erind- 
ing by women, with the tuneful accompaniment, is by 
no means confined to Asia. ‘The same practice has been 
observed in ‘Lapland; and Pennant not only notices 
something very similar in Scotland, but gives. an en- 
graving which very well ‘represents the Oriental pro- 
cess. it is the same in Africa. Many readers will 
remember the pathetic incident in the travels of Park, 
ur which some African women having taken him, when 
eady to perish, to their homes, beeuiled their labours 
by an extempore sori¢ lanteritine his destitute condition. 
That he had “ no wife to grind his corn,” was the 
burden and climax of their sone; A verse of Mrs, Bar- 
bauld’s version may bé giver :— Ds 
“ Unhappy man, how hard his lot ; “ 
Far frony his friends—perchance forgot ~~ 
Ag thus hé sits forlorn! 
He boasts no mother to prepare 
The, fresh-drawn milk, with tender care,— 
No wife to grind his com!” 





So much ¢ofit ig @énéfally ground every morning as 
Will sérvé the family for the day ; and after the grinding 
the process of bakin® immediately commences, = 
The oven is-usually built of clay, and generally in- 
clinés iff shapé to a cone, being’ about three teet high, 
and mitch wider at the bottom than the top, where 
there is an opening of more than a foot m diameter ; 
and near the bottom there is another hole for the con- 
veniénce of introducing fuel and withdrawing ashes. 
There are portable ovens of this kind, made of stout 
earthenware, one of which is usnally planted in the 
forecastle of the vessels navigating the Tigris, and in 
which bread is' baked every day. In Kourdistan and 
Armenia, the general construction, which resembles a 
lime-kiln, is iff-the main preserved; but with this differ- 
encé, that the oven, instead of being raised above the 
eround, is’ dug in it; and is made to serve, besides, all 
the usual purposes of a firé-place. The oven is heated 
with wood ; and whén it #s burnt down to clear embers, 
which lie at the bottom atid lone continue -to afford 
much heat, thé dough is preparéd ira large wooden 
bowl, and portions are suécessively moulded into the 
form of thick r6und éakés on a board or stone near tlre 
oven. ‘These, when flattened out to about the size of a 
_breakfast-saucer, the woman takes up aud tosses about 
on her arms, with surprising dexterity and quickness, ull 
‘it-becomes no thicker than a pancake, and forms a circle 
-of a foot in diamétér, or an oblong of a foot and a halt 
inlength. Wher the éaké is brought to the requisite thin- 
‘négs, one Side is wetted with water as well as the hand 
‘and arm by which if is introduéed into the ovea. The 
‘wet side, by an operation which requires much tact with 
a piece of dough of such tenuity and extent, is stuck 
against the side of the oven, where it anes. until per- 


4 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


fectly baked, when, if not properly attended to, it would 
fall into the hot embers at the bottom ; and, if prema- 
turely removed, cannot again be attached. Its timely 
removal becomes therefore an operation requiring much 
judgement and care. If the introduction and removal 
ot the cakes were not rapidly performed, the heat of the 
oven is generally so great that the arms and hands of 
the woman would be much injured. But such is the 
facility acquired by habit in all these operations, from 
the tossing of the cake to its final removal from the 
oven, that one woman finds no difficulty in attending 
to the baking of five or six cakes at ouce, at the same 
time preparing others to replace those withdrawn. ‘The 
baking takes about five minutes, or less, according to 
the heat of the oven. The women pride themselves 
greatly on skill in these operations ; and among the 
Arabs, Kourds, Armenians, and the Eelauts of Persia, 
the reputation of being a skilful maker of bread power- 
fully recommends a young woman to the attention of 
those who are desirous to marry. 

The bread made in the manner we have described 
varies according to the prevailing taste in different parts. 
It is sometimes rather thin and crisp; but more gene- 
rally flexible and moist—often, indeed, changed but 
slightly from the state of dough. In about twenty-four 
hours it becomes very hard, and cannot well be used 
without previous soaking in water ; consequently bread 
is only baked or bought for the occasions of the current 
day. ‘This bread is not generally iked- by Europeans, 
and the writer felt no small satisfaction in finding at 
Erzeroom, all the way from thence to the Black Sea, 
and at Constantinople, this pancake-bread superseded 
by loaves which are baked in ovens not much un- 
like our own. This change probably arose from the 


circumstance that the colder climate enabled the people | 


to have bread which might be kept longer than a single 
day. It is common in that part of- the country to see a 
large loaf of brown bread in the shop windows, slices 
from which, sold by weight, the poor people purchase 
as their wants require. — 

Besides the ovens’ before described, there is a much 
simpler process of preparing’ the cake-bread, which we 
first had occasion to notice as performed by a poor 
Eelaut woman near the river Eraskh in Azerbijan, be- 
fore the door of a hut, about six feet square, formed of 
mats and sticks. A convex plate of sheet-iron was sup- 
ported, about five inches from the ground, by stones 
with the convexity upwards. This plate was heated by 
a slow fire underneath, and the thin cakes of dough 
were laid upon it.and baked, less expeditiously, but we 
thought far more conveniently and cleanly, than by the 
other processes, in which particles of the clay, with 
which the oven is built or lined, are often brought away. 
with the bread. 

There is a mode different from any of those men- 
‘ioned, by which a thin bread or, biscuit is prepared, 
not thicker than a wafer, and which, being very crisp 
and dry, keeps much longer than any of the breads 
described. A thin paste is prepared, like that which 
we use in making puddings, and it is poured out and 
spread upon the outer surface of a'portable oven of 
metal, stone, or earthenware. It is immediately con-: 
solidated by the heat, and baked in a moment. | : 





The Dodo.—Myr. Reinagle, the emiment artist, has sent 
us a letter confirmatory of the existence of the Dodo, of 
whick an account was given in:the 75th Number of the 
‘Penny Magazine. Mr. R. states, that while -he was, for 
several years, engaged in the study of zoology, he had 
frequent occasion to hold disecussions.with Dr. Shaw ‘of the 
British Museum, and with Messrs. Parkinson, on subjects 
in zoclogy of rare existence. He was on one occasion 
invited to spend a whole dev with Dy. 8. at the Museum, 


where he amused himself with a general examination of! 


[JANUARY 4, 


the numerous objects of natural history, unstuffed birds, 
animals, and reptiles, which were heaped together in the 
then lumber-room. After turning over a vast pile, he dis- 
covered the head and beak, with the short thick legs, of a 
bird, which instantly struck him to be those of the Dodo. 
Mr..R. immediately ran with the relics to Dr. Shaw, who 
in the end concurred with him in considering the remains 
as those of the Dodo, the existence of which seemed to them 
no longer questionable. Mr. R. has not been able to 
learn what became of the fragments, but they ought still to 
be somewhere in the British Museum. 





THE VAIN REGRET. 


On! had I nursed, when I was young, 

The lessons of my father’s tongue, 

(The deep laborious thoughts he drew 

From all he saw and others knew,) 

I might have been—ah, me! 

Thrice sager than 1 e’er shall be. oe 
For what saith Time ? 

Alas! he only shows the truth - $. 

Of all that I was told in youth! 


The thoughts now budding in my brain,— 

The wisdom I have bought with pain,— 
_The knowledge of life's brevity,— 

Frail friendship,—false philosophy, 

And all that issues out of woe, 
~ Methinks, were taught me long ago! 

Then what says Time ? 
Alas! he but brings back the truth 
Of all I heard (and lost) in youth! 


Truths! hardly learn’d and lately brought 
From many a far forgotten scene! 

Had I but listen’d, as 1 ought, ’ 
To your voices, saye,—serene, 4 
Oh! what might I not have been ~~ 

In the realms of thought ! : 


Barry Cornwau's Enghehk Songs, e 








-THE.AURORA OF GUIDO. 


Tue celebrated Aurora of Guido adorns one of the 


ceilings of the Palazzo Rospigliosi at Rome. The 
picture is painted in what may be called a middle 
manner, between the extremes of the two styles which 
this great artist practised at different periods of his life. 
Gnido is chiefly known in this country by a style of 
silvery brightness, which he was led to adopt, less by 
any natural predisposition towards it than by a desire 
to obtain novelty, by a mode of practice directly con- 
trasted to the dark and forcible manner of Caravaggio, 
which had acquired great popularity, and which he had 
begun by imitating. In all that relates to composition, 
character, and expression, the Aurora must rank among 
Guido’s finest performances. ‘The general conception 
is in the highest degree poetical; the figure of Apollo 
unites grace with dignity; and that of Aurora, flying 


‘before him and strewing flowers upon the earth, seems 


buoyant as the morning breeze itself.. It may be ob- 
jected to many of Guido’s figures, however admirable 
in other respects, that their action is artificial, aud even 
theatrical. ‘The present composition is, however, entirely 
free from that defect: the action of the Hours is playful 
and simple, and the expression of their faces is admi- 
rably.sweet and natural. ‘The general vivacity of the 
effect is finely attempered by the still, broad, and 
brilliant light which surrounds the Apollo, and by the 
serene and silent aspect of the lower part of the picture, 
in which the earth and ocean jseem just awakening 
beneath the dawn of day. 

The great merits of this work,—those of poetic con- 
ception and beautiful character,—are attempted to be 
given, however inadequately, in our engraving. 

The picture itself is not one of Guido’s happiest 
efforts of colouring. ‘The hues of the draperies are too 
violently contrasted, and the sky presents a uniform 
mass cf deep blne, the unpleasant effect of which, how- 
ever, has probably been heightened, or altcwether ocva- 
sioned, by injudicious reparation. : 


~~ 


tik AURORA OF GUIDO. 


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At Guido’s call, their round of glory run! 





Again the rosy Hours resume their flight, 
Obscured and lost in floods of golden light.”’ 


Rogers’ Epistle to a Friend. 
$ 


6 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


TRADE WITH AMERICA. 


Previous to the war which ended in the independence 
of the United States, that country was supplied from 
England with most articles which were required for 
domestic comfort or household decoration. Although 
the industry and skill of the Americans have subsequently 
been exerted on home manufactures as substitutes for 
these foreian commodities, yet such has been the grow- 
ing prosperity of both countries since that period; that 
the average annual amount of the exports from England 
to the United States of America, is now much more than 
quadruple what it was between the years 1750 and 
1760. 

The official value of the medium annual exports to 
the whole of the Americas, both North and South, be- 
tween the years 1749 and 1755, we 2,001,690: ; be- 
tween the years 1784 and 1792, 5;605,626/.; in 1830, 
21,117,0142. For the United States alotie the éxports 
from this country, in 1830, were 8,236,677/:; anid if 
to this amount be added 2;619,562/., the value of the 
exports, in the same year, to the British possessions in 
North America, the value will be 10,856,2397, 
amount is nearly equal to the 10,915;778/. which was 
the total amount of exports from England, in 1760; to 
all parts of the world except India “and China: tite 

value of the exports to the latter places only amounted 
to 736,358/. 

The almost entire dependence of the British North 
American Colonies upon the parent country, for a supply 
of almost every article of commerce and |uxury, is curi- 
ously illustrated, by an order sent to Glasgow for sup- 
plies for General Washineton’s family, in the eeneral’s 
own hand-writing, and dated the 20th of September, 
1759*, We think this document will be found of interest, 
not only as illustrating the character of some part of our 
trade with America at the early period to which we have 
alluded, and as showing the relative position of the two 
countries with reward to arts and manufactures previous 
to their dismemberment, but as exhibiting a great 
public character interesting himself in family arrange- 
nents, and in the minute details of pr’vate life: It will 
be remembered that with the same hand; which; on this 
occasion, penned an order for a ribbon to adorn his wife, 
aud barley-sugar for his children, he had a few years 
after to sign the treaty of peace, whereby the indepen- 
dence of his country was fully recognised. 

‘* 2 beaver hats, plain, eacli to cost a oulnea ; | sword- 
belt of red morocco leather or buff, _N. B., no buckles 
or rings; 4]bs. of ivory blacking ; 2 best. two-bladed 
knives; ly ream of paper; 2 flowered lawn aprons ; 
2 pair woman’s white silk hose; 6 pair fine cotton ditto; 
4 pair thread ditto; 1 pair black and 1 pair white satin 
shoes of the smallest sizes; 6 pair woman’s best kid 
oloves ; 6 pair ditto mittens ; ; Ll black mask ; 1 dozen 
most fashionable pocket handkerchiefs ; ; 2 pair neat sniall 
scissors; 1 lb. sewing silk, shaded; 4 pieces binding 
tape; 19 M. pins (different SIZeS ) ; Blbs, Seotch snuff; 
3 lbs. best violet Strasburgh ; 1 piece white satin tibbon, 
pearl edge; 1 case of pickles ; 1 large Cheshire cheese ; 
4 ibs. oreen tea; 10 ewross best corks; i hhd. Lest 
porter ; “10 loaves of double and 10 of single refined 
sugar; 3 snaffle bridles; 9 best girths; 25 ‘Ibs. brown 
soap ; 2 dozen packs playing cards ;: 2 sacks best Eng- 
lish oats; 1 dozen painter's brushes; 12 best hand 
padlocks ; 18 bell-glasses for ‘garden ; more chair bot- 
toms, such as.were wrote for in a former invoice ; 1 more 
window-curtain and cornice ; busts of copper enamel or 
plazed, viz., of Julius Cesar, of Alexander the Great, 
of Charles XII, of Sweden, and another of the King of 


* The list has already been published in De Cleland’s § Statistical 
Account of Gi: asgow,’ having been taken ‘from Mr. Dugald ‘Ban- 
natyne’s § Common-place Book,’ into which it had been transcribed 
from the original document, 
to abridge it greatly, 


This: 


tion of the now numerous and flourishing colony. 


We have been obliged by our liniits } 


[JANUARY 4, 


Prussia—these all to be of the same size in order to 
fill up broken pedimients over doors; and not to exceed 
15 inches in height nor 10 inchés in width; Prince 
Higetie and the Duke of Marlborough, of somewhat 
smaller size than the above ; sundry small ornaments for 
a chimney-piece that is 6 feet long and 8 inches broad ; 
100 lbs: of white biscuit; 2 lanterns; various cloths 
(as specified), with buttotis and threads, enourh to 
make up into clothing ; 40 yards coarse jean. cr fustian 
for suinmer frocks for negro servants ; 1 piece dowlass 
at 10d.; 4 dozen pair coarse stroug thread hose for 
nero servants ; 450 ells Osnaburgh ; 350 yards Kendal 
cotton; 100 yards Dutch blankets; 20 lbs. brown 
thread ; 20 sacks of salt; a large quantity of different 
kinds of nails’ (specified) ; 2 dozen best staples; sets 
of cooper’s and joiner’s tools ; ; 5 lbs: white sugar-candy ; 
10 lbs: brown ditto; 1 lb: barley-sugar ; a large quan- 
tity of drugs and horse medicines of different sorts 
(specified) .” 


~~ Zz ee ee ~~ —_— 


MONKEYS AT GIBRALTAR. 
(From & Correspondent. ) 





WHEN t was at Gibraltar; the imést amusing creatures 


in the garrison were thie wild inonkeys that ran about 
in oreat litiiibers ou the face of that remarkable rock. 
As they were couistaiitly seen, they were frequently the 
subject of conversation: People used to wonder where 
they came froin; as they are not found in the neigh- 
bouriiig inountains of Spain, nor indeed, in their wild 
state; in any other part of Europe; and it was equally 
matter of surprise how they. lived on a bare rock that 
produced nothine but scorpions, lizards, a few black 
shakes, and, here and tliere, some dried up and di- 
minutive shrubs that looked as sapless as the rock 
itself; ‘The soldiers and common people, indeed, 
accounted for all this in a manner perfectly simple and 
satisfactory to themselves, by assuming, as a certainty, 
that the celebrated Saint Michael’s Cave, which has a 
motith or entrance near the summit of the Rock of 


Gibraltar, and which penetrates to a depth that nobody 


as yet has been able to ascertain, is coutinued under the 
bed of the sea all across the Straits which separate the 
rock from Africa, and has a corresponding mouth on 
Mouiit Abyla, or “ Apes’ Hill,” (as the African moun- 
tain is popularly called,) which is just opposite, and 
aboutids with inonkeys of precisely the same description. 


‘J felt it; however, futher difficult to conceive this double 
-e¢avern ain this evithectine ttinnel, which must be some 


sixtéen niilés lone ever if it ran in a perfectly str ai@ht 


‘lite; of that tlie Inonkeys (supposing such a com- 
muiniéation to éxist betweeti Europe and Africa) could 
have weed if as & oad by which to emigrate ; 


or 
(another thing iticliided iii their thecry ) that the nion- 


(Git. - i oe BW 8 ¢ steak 


keys éotitiiacd coristanitly to tise it; going to and fro for 


theté stippliés of provisions, &e: 


If is not so aftushig; but more natural, to suppose 
that, When the Moors invadéd Spain from the Opposite 
coast aid settled in Gibraltar, some monkeys were 


. brought over with them; or that, at & more recent 


period, when the Spaniards; among other possessions 


‘ii Africa, held Ceuta, iti the neighboiirhood of Apes’ 


Hill, that they sent some monkeys t to the garrison ; thei 
that. some of these cunning creatures escaped, and 
taking refuge in the inaccessible cliffs and caverns 
which compose so great a part of the rock of Gibraltar, 
propagated their species at liberty, and laid the founda- 
The 
all but isolated position of Gibraltar, which is joined to 
the main land by a low, narrow isthmus of sea-sand, 
which, at no very remote period, has evidently been 
under water; may account for their remaining confined 
to that rock ‘and not extending iito Spain. 

In whatever manner they may haye come, there they 


1834,] . 


are, and, as I have said before, in great numbers. Qn 
my walks to tle upper part and the back of the Rock, 
-—which were very frequent in the summer evenings,— 
I searcely ever returned without having: seen many 
of them. Sometimes going quietly along, and turning 
the corner of a rock, I’ would’ come suddenly on 
a large party, seated in a circle like neighbours met 
tovether for the pleasure of an evening: gossip. ‘Phe 
rapidity with which they would.decamp on such oc- 
casions, and the easy way in which they climbed up the 
steepest rocks, were astonishing. All that I had seen of 
the eambols of a captive monkey i in England was as 
nothing compared with the feats of these fi ee denizens. 

They would never stap or make any noise until they 
reached a position where it was, impossible for man to 
follow them; but when once there in safety, they would 
face about, mew and. chatter, and make the sfrangest 
erimaces, as if mocking me. ‘Tf I threw stones at them, 







eww F@teospat 


selves behind some sampet on of the rock, “After the 
i ‘cht of the stone they would re-appear, and scream 
and make faces anew; but as soon as they saw me 
stoop to pick up another stone, or raise my hand to 
throw one I might have already in it, they would again 
withdraw to their defences as quick as thought. Once, 
and only once, I succeeded in hitting a stur dy old fellow 
that seemed the patriarch of the tribe ; he set up a 
curious, shrill, wild cry, which was echoed by his 
companions, and the next moment they all crassed a 
higher ridge of the rock, which in many places is nar- 
rower than a camel’s back, and took refuge in the lofty 
perpendicular cliffs that rise above Catalan Bay. They 
seeined to be exceedingly gregarious. I do not re- 
member having eyer met with them except in rather 
large parties. 

on the earlier part of my residence in the garrison,— 
in the months of May and June,—I used aften to sir- 
prise these monkey parties when they had their young 
ones with them. These were the most interesting cir- 
cumstances under which the animals could be ‘seen. 
Their maternal affection was exemplary, The moment 
they were surprised, the ald ones would take up each 
her little one on her back and so seamper up the racks, 
never stopping, as at other times, to chatter and make 
faces, but running on until far beyond sight or reach, 
They carried their young precisely in the fashion which 
school -boys call Pee a aes However “et mig ht be 
tae: in ‘their own safety, or retired from ' “the spot 
without “their little ones. On one occasion I saw the 
curiosity and turn for imitation, which are so cha- 
vacteristic of all their tribe, very amusingly exemplified. 
The telegraph, which is situated on one of the loftiest 
Pours of the rock, was busily at work, announeing the 

som Ona Face 
of the rock, at a short distance, a party of about a dozen 
monkeys had assembled ; they sat all with their faces 
turned towards the sienal-house, as thouch they under- 
stood, or were trying to understand, the mystic signs ; 
and every now and then, as the arms of the telegraph 
swayed up and down, some of them waved their arms in 
the same manner, as iif mimicking or repeating the 
motion of the machine. 

Some of these animals are always to be seen on the 
front of the rock; but their favourite resorts and strong- 
holds are.at the iter of the rock, which, except for a | ton 
hundred feet on turning Europa Point at the south, and 
a much shorter space by Catalan Bay at the north, con- 
sists of towering cliffs which drop almost perpendicularly 
into the Mediterranean, and afford no footing to man 
either from above or below. From this place of safety 
they are, however, frequently driven by the levanters, or 
strong easterly 2 rales, which beat against the back of the 


rock with furiots violence, and sometimes continue for | 


has no tail. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 7 


several days. On these occasions great, numbers of 
them are to be seen; as the monkeys, for shelter, always 
cross the ridges of the rock and come to its front, or 
western and more accessible face. Meantime a dirty - 

ayey clond, or haze, gathers round the summits of the 
rock and rests motionless upon them, while everywhere 
else the atmosphere is clear. Now, in local parlance, 
Old Gib has got his night-cap on,’ and whenever this 
is the - case, and the monkeys ‘are all to the west,” 
Gibraltar-is a sad place to abide in. I have felt the 
fained sirocco wind in all its violence on the ceast of 
Sicily and at Malta, but never suffered half so muck 
from it, as from the stifling easterly winds at Gibraltar. 

In my time, the sqldiers of the garrison used to say 
that the monkeys hated the sieht “of a red coat, and 
often threw or rolled stones down upon them as they 
were standing sentinel at the sides of the rock. If they 
did so, it was only fair retaliation, for the soldiers (par- 
ticularly the new comers and young recruits) made it 
one of their principal amusements to hunt and annoy, 
and lay snares for the poor monkeys. 

It is scarcely necessary to describe the Gibraltar 
monkey, as it is the same as the Barbary species, which 
is O one of those most frequently exhibited in our streets 

lial The size of the body is 
= aati equal { to that of an Isle of Skye terrier,—perhaps 
rather larger. The colour is a sort of dirty fawn. It 
The species is supposed to he found gniy 
in Barbary, Gibraltay, and Egypt. 


TT 


EXPENDITURE OF A GREAT ABBEY IN ANCIEN? 
TIMES. 


= 


Tux Harleian Manuscript, No, 647, in the British Museym, 


gives precise information concerning the weekly as Well as 
annual expenditure of the Abbey of St. Edmondsbury in 
the 14th year of Edward I. It presents an account of the 
necessar 1es required to support 80 monks, 111 serving-men, 
il chaplains, . the nuns of Thetford, and visitors ‘to the 
monastéry. It opens with an account of the weekly charges 
ofthe bakehouse and brewery :—163 seams (thatis, quarters) 
and 2 bushels of wheat, at 4s. the seam, 4/. 3s. 9d.; 123 
seams of barley malf, at 4s. per seam, 50s.; 32 seams of 
onten malt, at 3s. the seam, 4/7, 163 ; wages of the seryants 
in the brewery and bakehouse, each week, 4s. did. ; fuel, 
26s. 8d. The total of weekly charge, 13/7, 94d., giving an 
annual total of 678/. 1s. 2d. 

‘Exclusive of this charge for the monastery, there is a 
separate account in the “bakehouse and brewery for the 
abbot; the revenues of the abbot and convent, in all the 
greater aa, | being _ ry and the vashases 
4 he 


@enwf Nre 


re retinue’: 
seats, and all the visitors to the Hofidtary who held mt 
in society were necessarily his guests, 

In thé kitchen of the monastery, 104. per week was ex. 
pended on flesh, fish, eggs, cheese and other minor articles, 
making a total annual expenditure under this head of 5202., 
besides the purveyance of the cellarer, which consisted 
chiefly in the provision for Lent, during the continuance of 
which his expenditure was for herrings, 251. ; for 4 seams 
of pulse for gruel, 32s. ; for 6 seams of beans, 308.3; honey, 
6s. 8d. ; ; nuts, 13s, 4d.; salt, 66s. Sd.; 42 seams of neas, for 
pottage through the year, 112. ; total annua! expense in 
the cellarer’s department, 431, 8s. 8d. Here the abbot’s 
portion comes in again; the weekly expenditure of which 
was, 6 carcasses and three quarters of oxen, at 4s. the Qk. 
978.3; 15 parkers and a half, at 3s. the porker, 46s. 6d ; 
31 geese, at 2d. each, 5s. 7 155 hens, at 1d, cach, 12s. id. 
The weekly expenditure in the abbot's kitchen amounted to 
41, 15s. 7d., making an annual total, exclusive of fuel, of 568. 
4s. 3d. The annual cost of fuel for the kitchen, to both the 
abbot and the convent, was 307. A charge of 60/. then 
comes for the prevender of the horses of the prior, cellare~, 
and hospitaller; and another 60/. is, charged for pittances 


g. . THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


misericordias, robes, horses, and other necessary expenses of 
the cellarer. All these various accounts make the gross annual 
expenditure of the abbey, as far as its affairs in the kitchen, 
the refectory, and the convent stables are concerned, 
amount to 1407/.11s.2d. This sum seems to have co- 
vered the maintenance as well as the hospitality of the 
convent in ordinary times; but, on particular occasions, a 
royal visit broke much deeper into the abbey revenues. 
The entertainment of King Richard II. and his queen at 
this abbey in 1383, alone cost the monastery eight hundred 
marks: and King Henry VI., in 1433, stayed there from 
Christmas to St. George’s Day. 

The large sums expended upon oaten malt may appear 
not very intelligible ; particularly as the beer brewed from 
it was not likely to be made a drink of choice by the convent. 
But the immense number of servants and retainers who 
were regularly supported, added to those who came with 
visitors of rank, the constant access of the podr to the 
convent, and the recollection that travellers in former times 
resorted to monasteries instead of inns, will easily account 
for this branch of the expenditure. 


THE NEW PIN. 


Tuere are few things which more strikingly exemplify 
the high point of civilization to which this country has 
attained than the amount of capital continually expended, 
the inventive talent exercised, and the powerful agencies 
employed, as the remedy of exceedingly small evils, and 
the attainment of equally minute objects of convenience. 
This remark cannot perhaps find a better illustration 
than in ‘‘ The New Pin with an immoveable Solid Head.” 
The defect in the old pin, which it is the object of the 
present improvement to remedy, is, that the head of the 
pin being separately spun and then put on, was liable 
to be detached by the pressure of the thumb. The 
principle of the improvement consists in this,—that the 
head being formed of the same piece with the body of 
the pin, the inconvenience attending its slipping is 
effectually prevented. ‘This is the minute improvement 
‘na minute article, the accomplishment of which has 
cost the patentees several years of attentive application, 
and the expenditure of a large capital, according to their 
own statement, which, when the extent and character 
of the machinery employed are considered, there can be 
no reason to doubt. At the same time, it must be taken 
in connexion, with this improvement, that the patent 
pin is altogether produced by, machinery, instead of 
partly by hand processes. ‘“‘ The Patent Solid-headed 
Pin-works ” are situated about a mile from Stroud, on 
the Bath and Birmingham road. The principal building 
consists of five floors, each of them one hundred feet in 
length, and completely filled with machinery. A large 
iron water-wheel, on which a stream acts with a power 
equal to that of forty horses, gives motion to all the 
mechanical apparatus, which is so ingeniously con- 
structed as to perform every essential operation for con- 
verting a coil of wire into the perfect pin with scarcely 
any noise and little apparent effort. Upon the old system, 
this comparatively insignificant article had to go through 
fifteen or sixteen hands before it was finished; but this 
curious machine effects the whole without manual assist- 
ance, or any extraneous aid whatever; for, the wire 
being placed on a reel, and the machine set in motion, 
all the mechanical combinations, so numerous and dis- 
similar in their movements, are simultaneously perform- 
ing their various functions with a rapidity and precision 
truly surprising. While one portion of the appa- 
ratus is drawing out and straightening the wire, and 
cutting it off at the required length, another combination 
is pointing and polishing the pin, and another compress- 
ing a portion of the wire into dies to form a perfect and 
neat round solid head. The various movements are 
completely at command, and susceptible of instant 
alteration and adjustment to pins of any length, and 
heads of any form, while the machine is working at its 


ordinary speed. Each machine operates on four wires } 


—_ 


[January 4, 1834. 


at once, and from forty to fifty pins are with facility pro- 
duced in a minute by each of the 100 machines which 
are completed, and in constant operation at the works. 
As a more particular detail of the process would not be 
well understood without engravings, we shali only 
further state that the works, with the present number 
of machines, are capable of producing upwards of two 
tons of pins weekly, or, stating the amount numerically, 
3,240,000 pins daily, 19,440,000 weekly, supposing all 
the machines to be in operation twelve hours daily. It 
is stated that altogether twenty millions of pins are daily 
manufactured in this country for home consumption and 
for the foreign market. 


Peter the Wild Boy.—Since we gave an account of Peter 
the Wild Boy, in No. 70 of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ we have 
received some further interesting information from a lady, a 
member of whose family knew this remarkable being. 
Peter was first found in the act of sucking a cow, in the 
woods of Hanover. Queen Caroline, who greatly interested 
herself about Peter, was very desirous of having him edu- 
cated, and employed various masters to teach him to speak. 
After the Queen's death Government allowed a pension f 
him, and he was placed with Thomas Fen, a respectabl 








ing delighted him, and he would immediately kiss any ob- 
ject that was of vivid colours. He was passionately fond of 
music, and would endeavour to enter the room where any 
kind of music was performing, jumping and dancing to it. 
We have already described the extent of his vocabulary, 
to which he afterwards added “ Hom Hen” (Tom Fen), 
intended for the name of tlie farmer whom he recognized as 
his master. Though quite harmless, Peter was sometimes 
sullen, and would never work if desired to do so; but, if 
nothing were said to him, he would often assist in the farm 
and do more work than three other men. He usually 
had bread and milk for supper, and as soon as he had 
taken it he always went up to bed; so that if he was wished 
out of the way, some bread and milk was given to him, and 
when he had finished it he would immediately go off to bed, 
even though it were still broad daylight. .Peter could live 
on the simplest fare, but he much liked anything sweet, and 
any kind of confectionary. There 1s an anecdote of his 
having made his way into a room where all the sweet things 
were laid out, that were prepared for a grand féte given to 
Lord Chatham ° and when tine second course was called for, 
Peter was discovered, with a large bowl, in which he had 
mixed pastry, jellies, creams, and other niceties, empioyed, 


‘quite to his own satisfaction, in eating the whole collection 


with his hands. Peter was capable of very sincere affection ; 
for he became attached in a very extracrdinary manner to 
the farmer who succeeded Tom Fen in the charge of him; 
and, when this person died, he went to his bed-side, raised 
his hands, and endeavoured to awaken him; but when he 
found his efforts unavailing, he went dow1. stairs and seated 
himself by the chimney. What his ideas of death were, 
cannot be known; but he refused his food and pined away, 
till in a few days he actually died of grief,—for he never had 
any illness. 


*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln's Inn Fields. 


LONDON :~CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 


—— 


Printed by Witt1am Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE | ; 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





[January 11, 1834. 





THE CHINESE JUNK. 


(From a Correspondent.) 


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[ Chinese Junk. ] 


Or the many variously-shaped vessels in which men | to those of our own country about two centuries ago ; 


peril their lives and fortunes on the boisterous main, 
those of China, called junks, are among the most re- 
markable, as well as the most frail. They nevertheless 
make lone voyages in their commercial intercourse with 
the Phillipine, Molucca, and other island's of the Indian 
Archipelago, also to Java, the Malay peninsula, and 
the coasts of Siam and Cochin China. In crossing the 
China seas, they always take advantawe of the mon- 
soons, as from their bulk and heht draught of water 
they are ill calculated to make way against the wind ; 
but these same reasons operate in assisting their velocity 
with favourable winds. Although they do not appear 
well adapted to withstand heavy seas, yet the fishermen 
who abound along the coast, and whose vessels are the 
only homes for themselves and families, willingly brave 
very bad weather in the pursuit of their calling—and 
owing probably to their buoyancy it seldom occurs that 
any founder. 

To the eye they present a large unsightly mass, 
bearing, however, a singular and striking resemblance 


Vou, III, 


with a-e@reat .sheer like .a hali-moon, and their lofty 
poops and prows, as may be seen by comparing the 
above sketch with that of the ‘* Harry Grace a Dieu.” 
They are frequently 500 and 400 tons, and sometimes 
as much as S00; their rig@ing is of the simplest kind, 
consisting of two or three large masts composed of a 
single piece of timber, much stouter in proportion than 
European masts, on which traverse large square sails, 
which are increased aceording to the size of the vessel, 
but in number never exceeding three. These sails are 
of a reed or straw matting, with stout bamboos at in- 
tervals.of two to two and a-half feet, extending horizon- 
tally along the surface; and to either extremity of these 
bamboos are attached lines for the purpose of adjusting 
the sails to the wind, and when it is desired to reduce 
(or reef) the sails, they are rolled up from the bottom 
by as many of these spaces as are thought necessary, 
The anchors are of the rudest construction, the material 
is always of wood weighted with immense stones lashed 
about, unprovided with a stock across to insure its 


C 


10 


falling on.the ground so as to take hold, and it appears 
to be indebted for the performance of .its office more to 
its vis inertia than to its mechanical construction. 

Among other peculiarities, is the custom of painting a 
laree eye on each side of the bow, the Chinese very 
pertinently asking, ‘* How can ship see, suppose he no 
hab eye?” ‘This practice also obtains at Malta, and in 
other places, though I believe not ‘for the same reasoris 
as that @iven in China. _ Large junks generally carry 
two long oars projecting forward, havine the appearance 
of the antenne in insects; their purpose is to accelerate 
the evolution of turning the vessel round. ‘The hold is 
divided into compartments by partitions of stout plank, 
the seams being caulked with a cement of lime and oil, 
which becomes exceedingly hard when dry—this ar- 
rangement may have its advantages in vessels of such 
frail construction, conducing not only to the good con- 
dition of the merchandize, but also to the safety of the 
whole—each compartment thus becoming an indepen- 
dent vessel, which might be filled with water without 
damage to the cargo in the rest. The rudder projects 
from the stern similarly to that of a London barge, and 
is generally perforated with holes, or built of lattice- 
work—it is guided by ropes passing from it along each 
side of the vessel’s quarter. The compass is shut up in 
a small bow] with a quantity of sand in its bottom, in 
which are stuck perfumed matches when an offering is 
intended to be made to the “ Deity of the Sea.” ‘To 
this divinity, also, an altar, well stored with trinkets, 
matches, and coloured wax-candles, is erected at the 
extremity of the cabin, which is very small, and round 
it are the berths of the crew, just large enough to con- 
tain their persons—each bertli has a mat and a hard- 
stiiffed cushion for a pillow. They generally embark 
in great numbers, and all the crew appear to take an 
equal interest and share in the conducting of the vessel ; 
they do not receive u fixed salary, but have a portion of 
the profit accruing from the voyage or service performed. 
All their fluids, water, spirits; &c, are contained in jars, 
and their solids are packed in cases or pail-shaped tubs, 
—the Chinese never putting a second head into a 
cask ; whether this arises from ignorance or obstinacy 
I cannot say, but it is certain that a cask closed at 
both ends is never seen in Chiria. 


VOLCANIC ISLAND OFF THE SOUTH COAST 
OF SICILY. 


Most of our readers will probably remember the ac- 
counts published in the newspapers some time since, of 
a volcano that suddenly rose from the bosom of the sea, 
opposite to Sicily, and which, after having attained the 
size of a considerable island, was rapidly washed away 
by the waves of the sea from which it rose, and at leneth 
totally obliterated. 
_ Through the kindness of John Wright, Esq., an 
intelligent merchant of Glasgow, who has resided long 
in Sicily and Naples, we are enabled to sive a descrip- 
tion of this extraordinary island. Mr. Wright happened 
to be in Sicily at the time the sub-marine eruption took 
place, (on the 12th of July, 1831,) and with laudable 
curlosity determined to repair to the spot. ‘To this end 
he hired a boat on the 24th of August, (forty-three days 
after the first appearance of the island,) at Sciaeca, on 
the southern coast of Sicily, which was the town nearest 
to the volcano, and with an artist, who made drawines 
on the spot, a physician, and some other Sicilian ren- 
tlemen, went in quest of the object that was then exciting 
so much astonishment and terror. i 
The party left the shore of Sciacca at nine o'clock in 
the evening. There was a beautiful bright moon, and 
they were further favoured by a gentle breeze blowing 
from land in the direction of the island. After some 
hours Mr, Wright and his companions went to sleep, 


om ~~ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{January If, 


leaving’ the easy care of the boat to the sailors. They 
were awakened a little before sunrise by explosions that 
warned them they were near the volcano, and rising, 
they saw, at a short distance, two hills surmounted by a 
column of smoke. The Curious island of Pantellaria, 
which has evidently been thrown up in the same manner 
by a sub-marine eruption, though it is now inhabited 
and partially cultivated, was seen in the distance to the 
west. ‘They calculated that they had sailed about thirty- 
six miles, and that the new island was about equi-distant 
from Sciacca and Pantellaria. Jt had arisen from a 
sand-bank, which was previously covered (though not 
with deep water) by the sea, and well known to mariners 
by the name of * Nerita.” This sand-bank itself, which 
extends for some distance, is probably the result of some 
anterior volcanic convulsion. | 
Mr. Wright and his friends proceeded eagerly towa: 
the island, when, just as they were within a few oa 
length of it, the sun rose in all his glory behind the dark 
crater, revealing its form, and shining through the dense 
smoke with singular effect. ‘They began their exami- 
nation at the north-west of the volcano, wheresit pi 
sented the form of a round hill, rising about 120 fe 
above the level of the sea. ‘They were deterred from 
close approach by a thick cloud of white smoke which 
issued from the side of the hill on a level with the 
sea. They rowed the boat round the island, keeping 
about twenty feet from it, until they came to the north- 
east point, where they found that the island was some 
feet hieher than at the part previously examined, and that 
there was a piece of flat sandy shore which seemed to 
afford a good landing-place. As, however, nobody had 
hitherto set foot on this new production of nature, some 
apprehensions as to the safety of so doine, or whether 
they would not be swallowed up, were ettertained by 
the Sicilians. After some minutes of hesitation one of 
the sailors, encouraged by Mr. Wright, leaped ashore 
and found tolerably firm footing. Mr. Wright imme- 
diately followed him. ‘The sailor, who had proved him- 
self the most adventurous of his comrades, was yet 
reluctant to go to any distance from the boat, or to 
ascend the side of the volcano. Mr. Wright advanced 
a few steps alone,’and perceiving some bright yellow 
stones that had very much the appearance of gold, he 
picked up some of them, and cried out, “ Run! run! 
my friends! here is gold! here is gold!” ‘This tempta- 
tion was irresistible—every man left the boat; or, to use 
the words of one of the Sicilan gentleman of the party, 
whose memoranda are before us, they “ all leaped on 
shore, like so many devils careless of life, through the 
avidity to obtain part of the treasure.” (Here we may 
as well remind our readers that the Sicilians and Nea- 
politans are commonly inclined to believe that volcanos 
sometimes throw out gold. In No. 2 of the * Penny 
Magazine,’ a communication from a correspondent, who 
was at Naples at the time, informs us that the Neapo- 
litans collected some of the matter ejected by Mount 
Vesuvius during the great eruption of 1622, expect- 
ing to find gold in it.) Mr. Wright’s companions were 
soon undeceived; but finding that they nowhere sank 
much deeper than the ankle in the sandy soil, they 
readily followed his example, and climbed up to the ridge 
of the island at the part where it was lowest. Having 
reached this point with some difficulty, they stood on 
the edge of a crater that was flanked on either side by 
2 cone or peak of superior elevation. The form of the 
crater was very irregular—within it, and forty-five feet 
below its lip or edge on which they stood, and nearly on 
a level with the surface of the sea, they saw two smal] 
lakes of boiling-water. One of these lakes was about 
one hundred and fifty feet in circumference, the other 
not more, than thirty. In tlie first the colour of the 
water was a light yellow, in the second a reddish-yellow ; 
| they bubbled here and there and emitted vapour, 








1834,}. 


The master of the boat (a Maltese) boldly climbed 
to the top of the highest cone—an exploit not performed 
without danger, as on’ that part the island descended 
almost perpendicularly to the sea, whose waves had 
already begun to destroy it, and occasionally carried 
away laree masses at a time. 

Mr. Wright and his party returned to the strip of 
peach where the boat was secured, and were amusing 
themselves by examining and collecting the curious 
ashes, lapille, and stones which were there deposited, 
when a rumbling noise and smoke, accompanied by a 
most pungent sulphureous smell, arose from the crater, 
and compelled them to embark. They rowed round to 
the south-eastern point of the island, where they found 
a strip of beach like that which they had left, and lying 
(it, half dead and stupefied, a fine large pesce-spada, 
or sword fish. ‘This they secured and carried back with 
them to Sciacca, where they found it weighed upwards 
of sixty pounds English. The fate of the fish must 
have arisen from its coming too near the hot and 
contaminated water which on all sides surrounded the 

land to a greater or less distance. Indeed, when the 
party started from this point to continue the circumnavi- 
gation of the island, they were obliged to keep nearly 
a mile at sea, to steer clear of a new submarine crater 
which was forming there, the erruptions from which had 
changed the colour of the waves from blue to deep 
yellow, and, for the space of half a mile, made them foam 
and roar in a fearful manner. Even at the distance at 
which they kept their boat, the air was so charged 
with sulphur that it almost suffocated them. As they 
doubled this, the south-west extremity, they saw im- 
mense clouds of smoke, now black, now white, rising 
as it were from a rent in the bosom of the sea, and 
attaining an elevation of 2000 feet. 

Having gone entirely round the island, they ascer- 
tained that its form was circular, and that it was then 
about two miles in circumference, but evidently dimi- 
nishing every day. Besides exciting their curiosity, it 
should seem that the novel appearance of this volcano 
had attracted the curiosity of a turtle dove, for as they 
landed to examine one point, a bird of that gentle 
species saluted them from the summit of the island with 
its melancholy note, and then disappeared. | 

On the 27th of October, 1831, the steam-packet 
** Franceso Primo ” left Naples expressly to visit this 
volcano, which the Neapolitans had named ‘“ L’Isola 
Ferdinandea.” Among the passengers was an English 
gentleman, who made some drawings and measurements, 
and described the island as it then was. From an 
examination of these, it results that during only two 
months which had elapsed since Mr. Wright’s visit, the 
island had been reduced to one-seventh of its circum- 
ference as measured at that visit. Peaks and elevations 
had sunk into the sea,—there only remained one, which 
was much lowered, and no longer retained the appear- 
ance of a volcanic crater. ‘This rose in the centre of the 
island ; it was an irregular cone in shape, and composed 
of fine, heavy, black sand, and very friable scoriw. All 
the rest of the island was a plane whose level scarcely 
surmounted the superficies of the sea. With the least 
wind the waves washed over all this level part, which, like 
the hill, was composed of black sand and scorie, mixed 
here and there with fragments of lava that seemed to 
contain a good deal of iron. No smoke then issued 
from any part of the island, but wherever the visiters 
dug a little in the plain, a strong heat with smoke 
escaped. ‘There, remained, however, a small lake, the 
waters of which seemed, from the steam resting on 
their surface, to be stil] boiling. These waters had 
changed their colour from yellow to a brownish black. 
‘hey were ascertained to be sea-waters, mixed with 









sulphur and other volcanic components, from which they. 


were easily disengaged. In a direction opposite to this 


’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


1 


small lake, and at the distance of a few feet from th 
shore of the island as it then was, the sea for a certain 
space was covered with @ bright blue oleous fluid, which 
produced precisely the same tranquillizing effect that oil 
does when thrown upon the waves. ‘his fluid was, 
in all probability, petroleum, like that which is found 
floating on the surface of the Bay of Naples, near the 
roots of Mount Vesuvius, and in the neighbourhood of 
most volcanos. | 

The western side of the central mount was covered 
with volcanic ashes and saline efflorescence, the white 
colour of which contrasted in a curious manner with the 
dingy black hue of all the rest of the cone. As the 
party from the steam-boat ascended the mount, they 
found two wooden boards stuck deeply in the sand. 
On the first of these were recorded the names of two 
members of the French Academy, Messrs. Jonville and 
Constant Prevot; and on the second the name of an 
Austrian brig and the name of her commander, who 
had all visited the island since Mr. Wright’s expedition. 
It was evident to every body that the flat part of the 
island was rapidly disappearing, and that when the sea 
had destroyed this, the mount remaining exposed to the 
direct fury of the waves could not, from the lightness 
and friability of the materials which composed it, long 
resist their attack. It was therefore concluded that in 
a few months the island would no longer exist; and in 
fact, a very few months afterwards, when Mr. Wright 
sailed across this part of the Mediterranean, the sea 
between Sciacca and Pantellaria was perfectly clear, 
and there remained not the least vestige of the island. 
He, however, had not the opportunity of examining to 
what degree the detrition of the volcano had affected 
the sandbank beneath. 

Whichever way the traveller turns on the coasts of 
Sicily he meets with melancholy evidences of the tre- 
mendous effects of volcanic action. ‘The city of Sciacca 
itself, from which Mr. Wright set out to visit the new 
voleano, is surrounded by hot springs, petroleum pits, 
and caverns of sulphur which still smoke; and about 
five centuries ago it was entirely destroyed by an erup- 
tion. ‘Though the town has been renewed, it has never 
recovered its former prosperity. Its population, which 
was 60,000 at the time of the awful catastrophe, now 
scarcely amounts to 18,000. 


IMPROVED SYSTEM OF BEE MANAGEMENT, 


TueEreE 1s no branch of rural economy connected with 
more agreeable associations than that of bee manage- 
ment. ‘The proverbially industrious habits of the insect, 
and its extreme ingenuity in the construction of its 
domicile, and the deposition of its treasures, are such as 
to excite the admiration of the most unobservant. The 
common necessity of destroying the stock, in order to 
obtain the produce of their labours, has been always 
matter of regret. Many plans have been hitherto 
devised for the purpose of obtaining the honey without 
the destruction of the bees, but they have only been 
attended with partial success. ‘The object has, however, 
been latterly and more perfectly attained by Mr. Nutt, 
a practical apiarian of Lincolnshire, whose system of 
management has given this branch of rural economy an 
importance and value. of which it was not before con- 
sidered susceptible, both in the greater productiveness 
of the bees, and the much superior quality of the honey. 

The first part of Mr. Nutt’s plan of operation 1s to 
leave the hive, into which the stock is introduced, un- 
touched. When it is filled with honey (the contents of 
which are to be reserved for the use of the bees), the 
capacity of the hive is increased, by the addition of 
another box to the side, communicating with the hive 
by apertures, which give free admission to the bees in 


all parts of the box. 


C 2 


12 


The next important object in Mr. Nutt’s system 1S to 
ensire a regulated and uniform temperature in this 
portion of the hive, without diminishing the temperature 
of that which contains the stock. ‘The ventilation 
necessary for this’purpose is effected by the means of a 
perforated tin tube, extending down to a considerable 
distance from the top intd the hive, and connected with 
an aperture at the bottom, which may be partly Or 
wholly closed by a tin slide, thus modifying the 
circulation of the air and consequent degree of tempera- 
ture. The temperature of this side box, which is indi- 
cated by a thermometer introduced into the tube, ought 
to be 70°, which is the natural temperature of the 
working hive; but, in that which contains the stock, a 
temperature of 90° is necessary, as well for the incuba- 
tion of the queen bee, as the maturity of the young. 
The parent hive is, then, as well the residence cf the 
queen bee as the nursery of the young, whilst the side 
boxes are but additional storehouses for the reception of 
the superfluous honey, which may be taken away with- 
out impoverishing the stock, or robbing them of their 
Winter sustenance. 

When the thermometer placed in the side box rapidly 
rises to 90° or 100°, the necessity of again providing 
the bees with fresh room is indicated; and this 4% 
effected by establishing another box on the opposite 
side of the hive. ‘The bees, finding an increase of room, 
will readily reeommence their labours in this new apart- 
ment. 

Then follows, in Mr. Nutt’s system, the operation of 
separating the bees from this second hive. This is 
effected by the ventilator, by which the internal tempe- 
rature of the hive may be reduced to that of the external 
atmosphere; and when, on the approach ‘of night, the 
bees, recoiling from the cool air, go back into the middle 
box, the connexion between the two may be closed, and 
the full hive withdrawn, without the imprisonment or 
destruction of a single labourer. The same arrange- 
ments are to be again renewed, as the bees continue 
their successful labours. In this system no provision 
is made for swarming, which cannot occur under this 
arrangement, the emigration of a part of the stock being 
only occasioned by a want of room in which the bees 
may pursue their labours. 

The honey furnished under this system of manage- 
ment is found to be far superior both in quality and 
quantity to that obtained under any other arrangements. 
Lhe honey and wax are as white as refined sugar. This 
superiority in quality it owes as well to the modified 
temperature at which the bees secrete their products, as 
to its total exemption from all extraneous animal and 
vegetable matters, and, in particular, from the pollen or 
bee-bread, which is taken in considerable quantities into 
the stock-hive for the support of the young. This 
superiority of the honey is only equalled by the quantity 
of the supply: the usual annual supply from one stock 
is about one hundred-weight of honey; whilst, in the 
course of one season, Mr. Nutt has procured the large 
quantity of 296 lbs. This increase in quantity is owing 
to the excellent disposition of the arrangements, by which 
the industrious efforts of the bees are never retarded, nor 
their strength weakened at the time when the fruits and 
flowers most abound from which their treasures are 
obtained. 


Thrushes.—A. Correspondent mentions that thrushes cet 
at the snails on which they feed by taking them into fier 
beak, and hammering the shells against a stone until they 
are broken. He states that a neighbour of his broucht up 
a thrush from the nest and kept it many years. It was so 
tame as to be alloived to fly about the room, when, thouch 
it had never seen any other thrush, its chief amusement 
was to take a silver thimble in its beak, and endeavour, with 
greasy earnestness and perseverance, to break it, as the wild 
bird breaks the shells of snails, by hammering it violently 
against any hard substance, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[JANUARY 1}, 
LOUVAIN. 


Lovuvaln, a town of South Brabant in the Netherlands, 
is one of those cities which are now greatly declined 
from their ancient prosperity and importance; and 
which continue to indicate the difference by very mag- _ 
nificent public buildings, and by an extent which the 
existing’ population cannot occupy. 

The city makes a very doubtful claim to Julius Cesar 
for its founder; but there are no distinct notices of it 
until the year $$5. It is certain, however, that it had 
attained such great prosperity about the commencement 
of the fourteenth century, as to be considered the richest 
and most commercial city of the Low Countries. It then 
contained upwards of 200,000 inhabitants, including 
4000 houses of clothiers. There is a tradition, sh: 
when the operatives left their work, it was notified | 
the great bell, that mothers might withdraw their chil- 
dren from the streets lest they should be trampled to 
death in the throng of eager passengers. -In 1380 the 
workmen revolted against the Duke of Brabant, and 
amone their acts on that occasion it is recorded t 
they threw seventeen of the numerous magistrates of 
the city from the windows of the then existing town-hall. 
This rebellion led to the emigration of great numbers 
of the weavers to this country, and they may be con- 
sidered as having laid the foundation of our woollen 
manufacture. This affair seems to have. given a blow 
to the prosperity of Louvain which it never entirely 
recovered. At present the town is much decayed, and 
the population is not supposed to exceed 25,000.° The 
most important article of industry is beer, of which 
considerable quantities are annually exported: there are 
also from ten to twelve lace manufactories. 

In its prosperous state, Louvain was not only dis- 
tinguished for its. wealth but its leaming. ‘The cele- 
brated University was founded, in 1426, by John IV,, 
Duke of Brabant. It produced several eminent men, 
aad was endowed by the Popes with ‘high -privileges. 
It had forty-three colleges, a fine library, a botanical 
warden, and an, anatomical theatre.’ In the sixteenth 
century it contained not less than 6020 students. 
Having become extinct during the French revolution 
it was restored as a lyceum, and after the separation of 
Belgium from France was re-established as an univer- 
sity. The present number of students does not exceed 
080. aes 
_ The magnificent building which is represented in our 
wood-cut was erected in the middle of the fifteenth 
century. The first stone was laid in 1448, and it was 
finished in 1463. * The cost is stated,-in the deseription 
of Louvain in the Flemish language, to ‘have been 
32,900 guilders, about equal to 3000/.,—a large sum in 
those days. The engraving will furnish a more accurate 
notion. of the exterior of this fine town-hall than any 
description. ‘The three tiers of windows, the gallery 
above the upper tier, the lofty roof with its windows 
rising one above another, the-corner towers and pin- 
nacles, and the still higher pinnacles cf the centre, are 
the most characteristic features of the edifice. The 
sculpture of the stone-work is exceedingly rich and 
elaborate. The apartments within are of fine propor- 
tions, and are richly decorated with tapestry and _ pic- 
tures. . Altogether the Town-hall of Louvain in one of 
the most interesting monuments of a period when a 
large and liberal expenditure upon objects calculated to 
elevate the taste was thought, and properly so, to be of 
public utility. While the great ecclesiastical edifices of 
England and France and the Netherlands were alike 
constructed with the object of filling the mind with’ 
those sublime images which belong to the service of 
religion, the other public buildings, such as the Town- 
hall of Louvain, were intended to impress the spectator 
with a feeling of respect for the dignity of the laws, and 
to associate ideas of splendour with the seat of justice. 









13 


1934. 


THE PENNY .MAGAZINE. 


and blag 


erandeur of princes ; 


ie with the 
and by their collective influence and authority, often 


oht v 


were enabled to make displays of wealth 
nificence which mi 


burghers and magistrates arbitrated between contending 
citizens, and punished the violaters of the public peace. 


this display of magnificence in the place where her rich 
It is a monument, therefore 


The former commercial prosperity of Louvain justified 


ssion which’ the feudal lords still 


Such monuments belong to the history of 


to resist that oppre 
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[Town-hall of Louvain. | 


14 


_' Curious Time-niece. A Correspondent having seen a 
notice of the clock of Lubeck, in No. 31 of the ‘ Penny 
Magazine,’ has been induced to send us an account of a 
curious time-piece in the possession of a private gentleman 
at Exeter. It stands ten feet high, is five feet wide, and 
weighs half a ton. It strikes the hows and quarters, and 
has a perpetual almanac, which has an exclusive movement 
for leap year, requiring to be regulated once in 100 years, 
and the principal wheel of which revolves but once in four 
vears. Ona plate in the centre of the dial is seen the sun 


in his course through the heavens, as he appears tous. The : 


circle which he makes is beautifully described in the changes 
of the seasons, by the receding or advancing of the horizon 
as the days lengthen or shorten. Underneath this is a 
lunar calendar, exhibiting the moon in her different phases ; 
and an organ playing various tunes. There is also a belfry, 
in Which are six ringers, ringing changes on as many bells; 
a variety of other figures are also shown in motion, playing 
instruments, beating time, &c. ~The ingenious artist, by 
whom this work was contrived and executed, died poor, and 
in a workhouse. The piece lay by for many years, no artist 
being found capable of repairing it, until it lately fell into 
the hands of a watch and clock maker of Exeter. 


Morning Meetings —The Spaniards have a species of 
public amusement (though it deserves a far better name), 
which consists in the superior class of the male inhabitants 
collecting, between ten and eleven in the forenoon, in some 
public promenade or open space. In Madrid the favourite 
place of meeting is the Puerta del Sol; in Toledo, the 
Zocodover ; in Seville, the Plaza de Santo Domingo; and 
in Granada, the Plaza de Vivarrambla and the Zacatin. 
These assemblages bear a striking resemblance to the 
ancient forum and ayopa: the subjects discussed at them 
are not merely private concerns, but the leading topics of 
the day; and the groups who take part in the latter, handle 
the matter in debate with a degree of talent and ardour, as 
well as unsparing freedom, which, however ineredible it 
may seem, are rarely to be found under any other sky. 
These morning meetings are so dearly prized by the Spa- 
niard, that I have heard many declare——and they were 
men who had visited the gayest capitals in Europe, and were 
otherwise over-partial, as I conceived, in their estimate of 
the superiority of foreign countries,—that all the recreations 
and enjoyments which London, Vienna, and Paris afforded, 
could not make amends for the loss of the brief matin-hour 
which they had been accustomed to while away at the Puerta 
del Sol. But these assemblages carry, intrinsically, far 
greater weight with them than what appears upon the surface. 
Any person capable of appreciating the character and bias 
of the ever-changing crowds which collect, and disperse to 
collect again, at the Puerta, needs no other key to the 
course which public affairs are likely to take, and will find 
himself seldom at fault in his conjectures.—Journal of 
Lducation for January. . : 








An Election.—(Extract from a private letter from Greece.) 
— Before I quitted Athens, I had the opportunity of 
witnessing the ceremony of a popular assembly, called to- 
gether for the purpose of electing new Demogerontes. 
About three hundred Greeks met on a grassplot, in front 
of a church in the middle of the town; what are called the 
Archons or Plutocrats, who came into consequence during 
the days of Turkish sway, placed themselves and their 
eagle-eyes in the centre of the meeting. After discussing 
the question, whether the naturalized citizens, or owners of 
lands and houses who have migrated to this spot from 
Europe, and other parts of Greece, should be admitted to 
vote, and deciding it in the negative, they proceeded to 
debate upon the subject of allowing such citizens and any 
other strangers to be present on the occasion: and this was 
determined in the affirmative. A general shout next warned 
the multitude to lay themselves down on the ground, in 
order that the successive’ speakers should be distinctly seen 
aud heard from the post which was assigned to them in the 
centre of the assembly. One of the citizens then recited an 
oath, to which every one qualified to vote made solemn 
response; it was to the effect, that they repudiated the 


iniluence of all ties af kindved, bribery, and every other cor- | 


“THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[January 11, 


rupt motive, and pledged themselves that no other consi- 
deration should weigh with them in giving their votes, but 
the public interest. This done, the archons submitted the 
names of eight or ten candidates, out of whom three were 
to be elected Demogerontes ; and the assembly, as each 
name was proclaimed, said “ content” or “ non-content.”’ 
Where the votes were dubious, the question was decided b 
a show of hands. But the business did not end without a 
split; for some of the archons, who were disappointed in 
carrying the election in favour of their own friends, with- 
drew in anger from the meeting, and were followed by their 
adherents. The remainder of the electors, however, went 
on with the list of candidates until a final choice was made, 
and then proceeded to the business of voting. Instead of 
vases, they made use of common glasses, over which a piece 
of paper with an aperture in it,. bearing the candidate's 
name, had been fastened. These glasses were placed upon 
a table in the middle of the church, under the safe keeping 
of three priests; each citizen went into the church singly, 
had his name recorded in a register, and received three 
beans, which he deposited in three of the glasses. The latter 
were ultimately opened, and the beans of each candidate 
counted ; the result being determined by relative majority. 
By the time that all this had been transacted, afternoon was 
at hand, and the assembly had dwindled down to one-fourth 
of its origmal numbers. You must not be surprised at the 
injustice, which was done to the parotks, or strangers, who 
form by far the most affluent and well-educated portion of 
the present inhabitants of Athens, by excluding them from 
all participation in such proceedings as these. It was the 
besetting sin of the ancient Greeks, and has descended with 
increased virulence tothe modern, for every one to prefer his 
native town and its local interests to the welfare not only of 
any neighbouring town or province, but of his native coun- 
try.” —Journal of Education for January, 











‘THIS IS LIFE, 


Like to the falling of a star,’ 

Or as the flights of eagles are, 

Or like the fresh spring’s gaudy hue, 

Or silver drops of morning dew ; 

Or like a wind that chafes the flood, 

Or bubbles which on water stood: 

Even such is man, whose borrowed light 
Is straight called in, and paid to-night, 


The wind blows out, the bubble dies, 
The spring entomb’d in autumn lies, 
The dew dries up, the star is shot, | 
The flight is past,—and man forgot, 


Hunry Kine. Died, 1669, 





SITE OF A CONVALESCENT ESTABLISHMENT 
IN THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 


Amonea the Europeans in India, the frequent returns 
home for the recovery of health, which is affected so much 
by the warm climate of Hindostan, had long been felt 
as a great public and private inconvenience; and some 
means by which the necessity might be superseded of 
yearly invaliding and sending home a large body of 
soldiers was felt to be a desideratum. Under such cir- 
cumstances the salubrity and genial temperature of the 
Nilgherries, (Blue Mountains), one of the principal 
branches of the western Ghauts, seems first to have 
suggested the idea of forming establishments in the 
mountain regions to which the sick and convalescent 
might repair. Another such establishinent has been 
formed at Laudour, in the Himalaya mountains; and 
we believe there are others. ‘The result has been found 
fully to answer the expectations which led to such esta- 
blishments; and not only has a ereat waste of time and 
money been prevented, but the necessity has in a great 


4 


1834.] 


measure ceased of exposing the sick to the incon- 
venience and danger of the long and wearisome voyage 
from India to England. A correspondent has furnished 
us with an extract from a letter, written by a medical 
eentleman from the establishment in the Himalaya, 
part of which we shall lay before our readers. It does 
not state much concerning the establishments formed 
there, but it furnishes infor mation with regard to a re- 
gion of which little is known in this country, and not 
much even in India. 

‘The place from whence I write is the first range of 
the grand chain of the Himalaya. It is in about 36° 27 
north latitude and 78° east longitude. It was selected 
about three years since*, from its proximity to the 
plains, (seven miles off,) as the most eligible site for a 
convalescent depdt; and experience having already 
established its sanative character, so that every spot of 
grind capable of building upon is taken up for public 
suildings. ‘hese salubrious and delightful hills had 
eet fourteeit years in the possession of the British 
government before the beneficial purposes to which 
they were applicable appear to have been perceived. 
e summit of Laudour is about 7800 feet above the 
1e¥el of the sea; and, of course, every inodification of 
climate from this height to the highest peak, 27,000 
feet, may be found; but I shall more particularly speak 
of what I have myself experienced. 

‘** During the hottest season, which is just passed, the 
thermometer has never exceeded 67°, whereas, in the 
plains, it is rarely under 90°, in a good house, until 
October. ‘The mean temperature here, by meteorologi- 
cal observation, is said to be 50°; and, as there are so 
few degrees of variation in the different seasons, I 
should say it is the finest climate in the world for in- 
valids of every class. About 200 soldiers are annually 
sent hither from the different king’s regiments; the 
greatest proportion of whom recover. 

*‘ As a further proof of the benignity of this climate, 
may be adduced an abundance of every kind of game, 
such as woodcocks, partridges, pheasants, &c., all of the 
most splendid plumage, at the bottom of the dells, 
together with a great variety of deer, leopards, hyenas 
aud bears, whilst the tiger is very rarely seen. All the 
Kiuropean fruits thrive to great perfection; and very 
many of them, as the apricot, currant, raspberry, &c., 
grow wild. <A botanical garden promises well, even in 
its infancy; and the gentleman in charge of it states, 
that all the plants indigenous to temperate climates 
thrive exceedingly well. Much to my surprise, these 
almost perpendicular mountains are highly cultivated, 
and, where irrigation is practicable, rice, beans, peas, 
potatoes, and every kind of corn, are seen to flourish. 
The effect is very beautiful at a distance ; and the eye 
is in every direction relieved by groups of magnificent 
oak, walnut, and fir-trees; and, though last, not least 
to be adinir ed, the rhododendron. 

“'The niale nhabitants of this region are a good-fea- 
tured race, but the women are per fectly hideous ; and, 
as ablution is an Operation not often performed in the 
course of a life, their persons are very offensive from 
filth and vermin. But as a contrast to these disgusting 
circumstances, they are a lively merry people, and suffer 
hardships and fatigue without a murmur; nor are theft 
or inurder known among them. I have remarked 
goitres to be a very common disease, as it is, I believe, 
in all mountainous countries, particularly Switzerland 
and the Tyrol f. 

“The roads are mere footpaths in those regions, and 








* The letter is dated July 13, 1830. 

7+ Some of our readers may need to be informed that govéres are 
swellings or wens in the fore part of the throat, which are not 
incompatible with generally good health. They are very prevalent 
among mountaineers; and the cause is still undiscovered, though 

commonly attributed tu the water which the people drink, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| from the bottom of the water, 


TS 


quite frichtful to a person unaccustomed to mountain 
travelling. But the eye soon gets accustomed to such 
circumstances, and I now gallop about on my eaout 
(hill pony) with as much confidence as I do on a horse 
in the plains. ‘These animals are brought from Tatary, 
and resemble the Shetland ponies, but show a ereat 
deal more blood and symmetry. ‘They are amazingly 
sagacious, and so conscious that a false step would hurl 
them to destruction, that they manifest the utmost cau- 
tion in difficult places ; and the traveller is quite at the 
mercy of his little quadruped, and must not interfere 
with him. An accident happens occasionally, but no 
life las been lost since the establishment commenced ; 

which I account for by the circumstance that the beast 
always inclines towards the bank when he slips. 

** The periodical rains have now regularly set in, and 
will, as I am informed, continue until September. We 
have sometimes terrific thunder-storms with hail; and 
in such a storm, a short time since, three of the natives 
were killed by the lightning. ‘The weather is disagree- 
ably damp; but the thermometer continues steady at 
67°, and never exceeds 80°,—an equability of tempera- 
ture not to be surpassed in any part of the world,” 


THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG. 


Tuis powerful, intelligent; and docile animal, which in 
its unmixed state is certainly the noblest of the canine 
tribe, is a native of the country the name of which it 
bears, and may be considered as a distinct race. Its 
introduction into this country is of comparatively recent 
date; and the fine animal known to us by the name 
of Newfoundland dog is only half-bred, and of size 
inferior to the dog in its native state, when it measures 
about six feet and a half from the nose to the extremity 
of the tail, the length of which is two feet. In its own 
country it only barks when greatly irritated, and «then 
with a manifestly painful effort, producing a sound 
which is described as particularly harsh. Its exemption 
from hydrophobia in Newfoundland appears to be well 
authenticated. 

The dog is employed By i the settlers as a beast of 
burthen in drawing wood from the interior to the coast. 
Three or four of them yoked to a sledge will draw two 
or three hundred weight of wood with» great facility 
for several miles. In this service they are said to 
be so sagacious and willing as to need no driver 
or guide; but, having delivered their burden, return 
without delay to the wocds in the expectation of re- 
celvine’ some food in recompense for their labour. We 
see, indeed, in this country, that, from the activity 
of his disposition, the Newfoundland dog delights in 
being employed; and the pride of being useful makes 
him take uncommon pleasure In carrying in his mouth 
for miles baskets and other articles, of which, as well 
from that satisfaction as from the fidelity of lis cha- 
racter, it would be dangerous for a stranger to dispute 
possession with him. In many respects he may be con- 
sidered as a valuable substitute for the mastiff as a house 
dog. 

‘The Newroundland dog is easily sitisfied | in his food, 
He is fond of fish, whether fresh or dried; and salt 
meat or fish 1s more acceptable to him than to most 
other animals, as well as boiled potatoes and cabbage. 
When hungry, however, he has not very strong scruples 
about appropriating such flesh or fish as falls in his 
way, or even of destroying poultry or sheep. For 
the blood of the latter animal he has much appetite, 
and sucks it from the throat without fecding on the 
carcass. 

It is well known that the Newfoundland dog can 
swiin very fast, dive with case, and bring things up 
Other dogs can swim, 


16 


but not so willingly, or so well. This superiority he | 
owes to the structure of the foot, which is semi-webbed 
between the toes; thus presenting an extended surface 
to press away the water from behind, and then collap- 
sing when it is drawn forward, previous to making the 
stroke. This property, joined to much courage, and a 
generous disposition, enables this dog to render those 
important services 1n the preservation of endangered 
life, of which such numerous instances are recorded, and 
of which our engraving affords an illustration. 

The following anecdotes of the Newfoundland dog 
are taken from Captain Brown’s interesting ‘ Anecdotes 
of Dogs.’ 

‘A Newfoundland dog, kept at the ferry-house at 
Worcester, was famous for having, at different periods, 
saved three persons from drowning; and so fond was 
he of the water, that he seemed to consider any disincli- 
nation.for it in other dogs as an insult on the species. 
If a dog was left on the bank by its master, and, in the 
idea that it would be obliged to follow the boat across 
the river, which is but narrow, stood yelping at the 
bottom of the steps, unwilling to take the water, the 
Newfoundland veteran would go down to him, and with 
a satirical growl, as if in°mockery, take him by the back 
of the neck and throw: him into the stream.” 

“A native of Germany, fond of travelling, was 
pursuing his course through Holland, accompanied by 
a large’ Newfoundland dog. Walking one evening on 
a high bank, which formed one side of a dike, or canal, 
so common in that country, his foot slipped, and he was 
precipitated into the water, and, being unable to swim, 
he soon became senseless. When he recovered his re- 
collection, he found himself in a cottage on the opposite 
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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[January 1], 1834. 


side of the dike to that from which he had fallen, sur- 
rounded by peasants, who had been using the means so 
generally practised in that country for restoring anima- 
tion. The account given by the peasants was, that 
one of them returning home from his labour, observed, 
at a considerable distance, a large dog in the water 
swimming and dragging, and sometimes pushing, some- 
thing which he seemed to have great difficulty in sup- 
porting, but which he at length succeeded in getting 
into a small creek on the opposite side to that on which 
the men were. ; 

‘“ When the animal had pulled what he had hitherto 
supported, as far out of the water as he was able, the 
peasant discovered that it was the body ofa man. ‘The 
dog, having shaken himself, began industriously to lick 
the hands and face of his master, while the rustic hast- 
ened across; and, having obtained assistance, the body, 
was conveyed to a neighbouring house, where the usual 
means of resuscitation soon restored him to sense and 
recollection. ‘Two very considerable bruises, with the 
marks of teeth, appeared, one on his shoulder, the other 
on the nape of the neck; whence it was: presumed that 
the faithful animal first seized his master by the shonlder, 
and swam with him in this manner for. some time; but 
that his sagacity had, prompted him to let go his hold, 
and shift his grasp to the neck, by which he -had.been 
enabled to support: the head out of the water. It was 
in the latter position that the peasant observed the dog 
making his way along’ the dike, which it appeared he 

distance of nearly a quarter of a mile. 












had done for a , 
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*«’ The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fielda. 


LONDON :~CHARLES KNIGHT, 22 
Printed by Wiutiam Cuowrs, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


LUDGATE STREET. 


> at a 9 


THE P 





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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[January 18, 1834. 





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Tir Goldsmiths’ Company is one of the most ancient 
of the London Guilds, or associated crafts. . It appears, 
indeed, to have originated before the time when charters 
of incorporations began to be granted to such societies 
by our kings... In the year 1180, in the reign of Henry 
II., it is recorded to have, been one of those that were 
fined as aduiterine. companies, that is, companies. that 
had no royal charter or licence; and it may have existed 
in this state for a considerable period.’. It would ‘seem 
already to have been a wealthy and important associa- 
tion, if we may -judge by the amount of the fine im- 
posed upon it, which was forty-five marks, while from 
most of the others only one mark was exacted. Of the 
present London companies, that of the Goldsmiths’ 
ranks fifth in the order of precedence, the first four 
being those of the Mercers, Grocers, Drapers, and Fish- 
mongers. None of these, however, have royal charters 
so ancient as the earliest by which the Gcldsmiths'’ 
Company was incorporated. This was granted by 
Edward III. in 1327; and subsequent charters, con- 
firming and extending the privileges then conferred, 
were obtained in 1394 from Richard II., and in 1462 
from Edward LV. 

Even before they were thus regularly incorporated, 
however, the Goldsmiths had apparently taken their 
place as one of the leading trades of the city. We have 
a curious evidence of this in an incident which the ola 

You. IIT, 


chronicler. Fabyan relates as having happened in the 
year 1269, in the reign of Henry III. We shall give 
{he statement in the modernized version of Maitland, 
the historian of London :—‘ About the same time a 
vreat’ difference happened between the Company of 
Goldsmiths and that of the Merchant Tailors’; and 
other companies interesting themselves on each side, the 
animosity increased to such a degree that, on a certain 
night, both’ parties met (it seems by consent) to the 
number of 500 men, completely armed ; when, fiercely 
engaging, several were killed, and many wounded, on 
both sides ; and they continued fighting in an obstinate 
and desperate manner, till the sheriffs raised a great 
body of citizens, suppressed the riot, and apprehended 
many of the combatants, who were soon after tried by 
the mayor, and Laurence de Brooke, one of the king's 


justices ; and thirteen of the ringleaders being found 


cuilty, they were condemned und hanged.” 

Here we find, while the Merchant Tailors lead the 
one faction, the Goldsmiths are at the head of the 
other. The early opulence and consequence of the 
latter were in great part acquired by their practice of 
acting as bankers, which they did in this and other 
countries long before any regular banks were esta- 
blished. They served both to individuals and to the 
covernment as agents in the transference of bullion and 
coin, in making payments and obtaining — and in 


is THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


the safe preservation and custody of treasure. H'rom a 
notice which Malcolm has preserved in his ‘ Londinium 
Redivivum,’ vol. ii., p. 414, it would appear that the 
practice of, banking had been continued by the gold- 
smiths in London down to a very recent period. ‘The 
passage is extracted from ‘ A General Description of 
All Trades,’ published in 1747, and contains the follow- 
ing statement: “ Goldsmiths, the fifth company, are, 
strictly speaking, all those who make it their business 
to work up, and deal in, all sorts of wrought gold and 
silver plate; but, of late years, the title of Goldsmith 
has been generally taken to sjgnify one who banks or 
receives, and pays running cash for others, as well as 
deals in plate; but he whose business is altogether 
cash-keeping is properly a Banker, who seldom takes 
apprentices, but has his business done chiefly by clerks, 
The others who keep to plate only, and do not bank, 
aré distinguished by the name of Silversmiths; who 
are two-fold,—the working silversmiths, who make up 
as well as sell (though some of them do not sell at 
all),—and the shopkeepers, many of whom do nothing 
at the working part.” ‘The distinction here mentioned 
as having been made between tne Goldsmiths and the 
Silversmiths (which, we believe, is now obsolete) can 
only have been a popular mode of expression, by which 
the principal persons in the trade were marked out 
from the rest. It was the former only, we may sup- 
pose, who acted as bankers; but it is certain that this 
custom was not, as the writer seems to mtimate, one of 
recent introduction, though perhaps it might have been 
revived about the time to which he refers after having 
fallen into disuse. | 

In England the mystery of working in gold and 
suver has not, perhaps, been usually considered to be so 
closely allied to the fine arts as it is or was wont to be 
in Italy and some other foreign countries. Soine of 
the most eminent of the Italian painters and sculptors, 
Benvenuto Cellini, for instance, for one, were ‘originally 
eoldsmiths ; and acquired their first acquaintance with 
the arts of design in chasing the precious metals. 

In ancient times the goldsmiths of London resided 
in or near Cheapside, or, as it was then often called, 
West Cheap, to distinguish it from the other Cheap 
(that is, Market) Street,-more to the east. The Royal 
Exchange, where all bullion was received for the king’s 
colnagers, was in a street in this vicinity, which stil) 
bears the name of the-Old Exchange. -It runs down 
towards the river from the west end of Cheapside ; “ but 
the very housing and Office of the exchange and coin- 
age,’ says Maitland, ‘‘ were about the midst thereof, 
south from the east gate that entereth St. Paul’s 
ehurchyard, and on the west side.” . 

. It appears to have been thought, indeed, that no 
other persons except geldsmiths had a right to reside, 
or at least to open shops, in this vicinity. Maitland 
quotes a representation addressed by the company to 
Edward III., in the first year of his relon (1327), in 
which we fiad this stated along with several other 
curious particulars respecting those times. It would 
scarcely, perhaps, have been suspected by maiy of our 
readers, that. the substitution of pastes for precious 
stones, aud of plated wares for genuine metal, with 
other similar tricks, had been carried to such perfection 
by the artists ef the early part of the fourteenth century, 
as they: would seem to have been by the following 
extract from this representation :—‘‘ That no private 
merchant nor stranger heretofore were wont to bring 
into this land any money coined, but plate of silver to 
exchange for our com. And that it had been also 
ordained that all who were of the goldsmiths’ trade 
were to sit in their shops in the High Street of Cheap ; 
and that no silver in plate, nor vessel of gold or silver, 
ought to be sold in the city of London, except at or in 
the Exchange, or in Cheapside among the goldsmiths, 


[January 18, 


and that publicly; to the end that the people of the 
said trade might inform themselves whether the seller 
came lawfully by such vessel or not. But that now--- 
many .of the said trade of goldsmiths kept shops in 
obscure turnings, and by-lanes and streets, and did buy 
vessels of gold and siiver secretly, without enquiring 
whether such vessel were stolen or lawfully come by ; 
and, immediately melting it down, did make it into 
plate, and sell it to merchants tradine beyond sea, that 
it might be exported. And so they made false work of 
gold and silver, as bracelets, lockets, rings, and other 
jewels; 1u which they set @lass of divers colours, coun- 
terfeiting right stones, and put more alloy in the silver 
than they ought, which they sold to such as had no skill 
in such things. And that the cutlers in their work- 
houses covered tin with silver so subtilly, and with such 
slight, that the same could not be discerned and severed 
from the tin; and by that means they sold the tin so 
covered for fine silver, to the great damage and deceit 
of the king and his people.” 

Upon this petition order was taken for remedying 
the several evils complaired of; and amoug other 
things it was commanded that none that pretended to 
be goldsmiths ‘* should keep any shops but in Cheap- 
side, that it might be seen that their works were good 
and “right.” For a long time this reeulation was 
rigidly enforced, so that Cheapside presented a very 
way appearance. Maitland eulogizes in a strain of fond 
admiration, “ the most beautiful frame and front of fair 
houses and shops that were within the walls of Londen 
or elsewhere in England, commonly called Goldsmiths’ 
Row, betwixt Bread Street end and the Cross in 
Cheap.” This cross stood at the west end of Cheapside, 
in the middle of the open space, from which St. Martin 
le Grand branches out on the one hand and St. Paul’s 
Church Yard on the other. It was one of those erected 
in 1290, by Edward I., in memory of Queen Hleanor, 
at the different places where her coffin had rested on its 
way frorn Iferdeley in Lincolnshire, to Westiminster— 
this and that at Charing being the two last of the 
number. With regard to Goldsmiths’ Row the histo- 
rian continues :— ‘* The same was ouilt by Thoinas 
Wood, goldsmith, one of the sheriffs of London in the 
year 1491. Jt contained in number ten dwelling- 
houses and fourteen shops, all in one frame, uniformly 
built, four stories high, beautified towards the street 
with the Goldsmiths’ Arms, and the likeness of wood- 
men, in memory of his name, riding on monstrous 
beasts, all which were cast in lead, richiy painted over 
and gilt. The said front was again new painted and 
gilt over in the year 1594, Sir Richard Martin being 
then mayor, and keeping his mayoralty in one of them.” 
In course of time, however, a few other tradesmen ven- 
tured to invade the privileged district. Under the year 
1629, Maitland writes :—“ At this time the city greatly 
abounded in riches and splendour, such as former ages 
were unacquainted with: then it was beautiful to he- 
hold the glorious appearance of goldsmiths’ shops in 
the South Row of Cheapside, which in a continued 
course reached from the Old Change to Backlersbury, 
exclusive of four shops only of cther trades in all that 
space; which occasioned the privy council, on the !Sth 
of November, to make the following order :--** Poras- 
much as his majesty hath received information of the 
unseeiliness and deformity appearmg in Cheapside, 
by reason that divers men of mean trades have shops 
amongst the goldsmiths ; whieh disorder it is his majesty’s 
express pleasure to have reformed ;—it was therefore 
thought fit, and accordingly ordered, that the two Lord 
Chief Justices, with such other judges as they shail 
think meet to call unto them, shall consider what sta- 
tutes or laws there are to. enforce the goldsmiths to plant 
themseives for the use of their trade in Cheapside and 
Lombard Street; and the parts adjacent, and thereupon 


1$34,] 


return certificate to the board in writing with all con- 
venient expedition.” — 

It may be suspected that the government, In mani- 
festing all this solicitude to keep the eoldsmiths collected 
in one particular part of the city, had some object 
beyond what was avowed. Those wealthy citizens, 
with whom, in addition to their own valuable stocks, 
was deposited so large an amount of property belonging 
to other persons, were probably looked upon as the 
readiest and most natural resource from whence to 
obtain a supply of money mm case of any emergency 
that might arise; and their services, whether in the 
case cf a loan or an exaction, would obviously be made 
the more available by keeping them together and prevent- 


ing any of them from concealing themselves in obscure | 


parts of the city. Accordingly, we find that when ship- 
money was imposed in i635, one of the first steps 
taken by the government was to renew the proluubition 
awainst the dispersion of the goldsmiths. It ought not 
to be forgotten that a considerable time before Hamp- 
den made his memorable stand against this impost, a 
citizen of London, a merchant of the name of William 
Chambers, allowed himself to be thrown into prison 
rather than pay it, and would have tried the question 
of its lewality in a court of law in an action against the 
lord mayor, by whom he had been committed, if the 
judges had not refused to allow his counsel to touch 
upon that point. Nowhere, indeed, did the tax 
experience more resistance than in London. The 
most peremptory orders were in consequence sent 
to the magistrates by the Privy Council to take the 
necessary measures for the collection of the assessment 
with all expedition. In some of these edicts it was 
especially commanded that the goldsmiths should be 
looked after. 
ceeded as follows :—‘‘ Whereas by our letters of the L5th 
of July and last of January, 1635, we did not only 
take 1otice of the presentremissness and backwardness 
of the then lord mayor and aldermen, in seeing our 
directions, by his Majesty’s express command, forthwith 
put into execution, by bringing the goldsmiths, living: 
dispersed in the city, to seat themselves either in Cheap: 
side or Lombard Street ; for which purpose we required 
that all other tradesmen should be removed, and give 
place unto them; but if they should obstinately refuse 
and remain reff actory, then to take security of them to 
perform the same by a certain day,-or, in default of 
eiving such security, to commit them to prison until 
they ‘conform themselves ; notwithstanding all which, 
his Majesty has been informed that there are yet a great 
number of houses of other several trades that live ‘both 
in Cheapside and Lombard Street. We must let your 
lordship know that, if speedy and effectual care be not 
taken by you in seeing the same duly performed, his 
Majesty will not pass it by without calling you to an 
account for it.” - All shops not belonging to ooldsmiths 
that had been opened since the said letters in ‘Cheapside 
or Lombard Street are then ordered to be presently 
shut up, and not permitted to be opened till further 
order from the Board. Another order, however, from 
the Star Chamber, dated the 7th ot July, mentions that 
“ divers tradesmen, which are not goldsmiths, do 
contemptuously open again their shops both in Cheap- 
side and Lombard Street, though they kept them for 
a while shut;” in consequence of which it is declared 
that, if every such shop shali not forthwith be shut up 
in each ward, the alderman or his deputy shall be com- 
mitted to prison by warrant from the Board. But 
even this threat did not produce the desired effect. In 
another letter from the Privy Council to the next lord 
mayor, dated the 12th of January, 1638, complaiit 1s 
made that there are still in the two streets ‘ at the 


least four and twenty houses that are not inhabited by} Bill of Portland, we should think it bad enough. 
gcldsmiths; but in some of them are one Grove, and! this would be nothing 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


One dated the 24th of May, 1637, pro-. 


ae 
one widow Hill, stationers; one Dover, a milliner; and 
one Brown, a bandseller; one Sanders, a druester ; ; and 
one Niedcalfe, a cook; ‘and oné Edivards, a pirdler, 
who do, by connivance, “still inhabit there, having some 
part of their shops shut, and the rest open. ” The council, 
thereupon, in somewhat more civil language than had 
been’ before employed, pray and require the inayor to 
acquaint the aldermen with these facts; adding, “ if 
they do not presently put our former directions j in that 
particular in execution, we shall then give such further 
order as shall teach them to know that the cummands 
of this Board ought not to be sliehted.” The tronbles, 
however, which soon after followed ,occasioning theover- 
throw and abolition of the Star Chamber, the privy 
council, and the throne itself, put an end for ever to 
these. arbitrary and oppressive interferences ; and since 
then Cheapside and Lombard Street have been as open 
as any other part of London to tradesmen of all descrip- 
tions, and the goldsmiths, deserting for the most part 
their ancient houses, have dispersed - themselves over the 
town, and opened their shops wherever they pleased. 

The Goldsmiths’ Company, as is well known, have 
the privilege of assaying all gold and silver plate before 
it cau be exposed for sale. This office they were 
appointed to exercise by the letters patent of Edward 
ii]., already quoted; but not for the first time, for it is 
there commanded that all work, ascertained to be of the 
proper fineness, shall have upon it “‘ a stamp of a 
puncheon with a leopard’s head, as of ancient time it 
hath been ordained.’ 

Another duty which the Goldsmiths’ Company are 
called upon to perform is, to assist at what is called 
* the trial of the pix,’—that is, the examination of the 
coinage, with the view of ascertaining whether it is of 
the sterling weight and purity. The pix (from the 
Latin pyxis) 1s the box in which the coins to be weirhed 
and analyzed are contained. A very full account of the 
ceremonies observed on this, occasion may be found in 
Mr. Brayley’s ‘ Londimana, ’ wel. iv., p. 142—148. 
The jury of Goldsmiths summoned usually consists of 
twenty-five, and they meet in a vanited chamber on the 
east side of the cloisters at Westminster, called the 
nape of the Pix. 7 

Our eneraving presents a view of the handsem.e 
new Hall of this company, recently erected. It stands 
immediately behind the New Post-Office. The style is 
what is called the Italian ; and. the front of the building, 
which looks to the west, is adorned with six Corinthian 
columns, over which is a rich entablature of the same 
order. It is built of Portland stone, and is 159 feet in 
leneth by 100 in-breadth. It is considerably larger 
than the old hall, which stood upon the same site, and 
was taken down in 1829. The principal apartment, 
called the Court Room, in the former building, was cele- 
brated for the richness of its ornaments of various kinds, 


and especially for a sculptured marble.chimney-piece of 


creat magnificence, with a massive bronze grate, which 
latter article alone is said to have cost, many years ago, 
above a hundred pounds. There were also some sood 
pictures; among others, an excellent one of Sir Hugh 
Middleton, the patriotic projector of the New River. 
‘Fhe old hall was built a short time after the Great 
Fire. 





GIBRALTAR. 


| Tur remarkable circumstance of such a position, one 


of the keys to a great kingdom, being held in perma- 
nent possession by a foreim n nation, would alowe confer 
no little interest upon Gibraltar. If we, in England, 
saw a fortress tenanted by Frenchimen or Spaniards 
frowning over the surrownding land and sea from the 
Yet 
to the case of the. English occu: 
D 2 


20 


pation of Gibraltar. That promontory, besides its ad- 
mirable advantages as a place of strength, may be said, 
owine to the narrowness of the strait upon which it juts 
out, to command, not merely the corner of Andalusia 
jinmediately under it, but the whele of the western 
coast of Spain, comprising nearly two-thirds of the 
whole maritime circumference of that country. It 
effectually cuts off all communication by sea between 
that part of Spain which is bounded by the Mediter- 
ranean and those parts which are bounded by the At- 
lantic. It disables that power as much as England 
would be disabled by another nation having the ability 
to hinder a ship passing from Liverpool, or Belfast, or 


Dublin, or Cork, or Plymouth, to Leith, or Hull, or 
London. 

It appears, however, to have been late before the im- 
portance of this rock was discovered. ‘The ancients had 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [January 18, 


a fable that Europe and Africa were originally joined at 
this point, and that the two continents were riven 
asunder by Hercules, and a passage thereby opened 
between the Atlantic and the Mediterranean. Gibral- 
tar, under the name of Calpe, and Mount Abyla oppo- 
site to it on the African coast, were called the Pillars of 
Hercules, and appear to have been in very early ages 
regarded by the people dwelling to the east of them, in- 
cluding the Canhaginians, the Greeks, and the Romans, 
as the western boundary of the world. It was probably 
long before navigation penetrated beyond this limit. 
Even in after-times, however, when Spain became well 
known to the Romans and a province of their empire, 
we do not read of any fort being erected on the rock of 
Calpe. It is doubtful if it was even the site of a town, 
No Roman antiquities have ever been found on the 
spot or in the neighbourhood. 


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[The Rock of Gibraltar. ] 


‘The place appears to have been first seized upon and 
converted into a military station by the Moors when 
they invaded Spain in the beginning of the eighth cen: 
tury. From their leader, Tuarif, it was in consequence 
called Gibel-Tarif, or the Mountain of Tarif, of which 
Arabic name Gibraltar is a corruption. Soon after 
establishing themselves here, the Moors erected a lofty 


and extensive castle on the north-west side of the moun- 


tain, the ruins of which still remain. Gibraltar conti- 


nued in the possession of the Moors for between seven 


and eight centuries, with the exception of about thirty 
years, during which it was held by the Christians, hav- 
ing been taken soon after the commencement of the 
fourteenth century by Ferdinand, king of Castile. It 
was recovered, however, in 1333, by Abomelek, the son 
of the emperor of Fez, and the Moors were not finally 
dispossessed of it till the middle of the following century. 
After that it remained a part of the kingdom of Spain, 
down nearly to our own times. 


The promontory of Gibraltar forms the south-western 
extremity of the province of Andalusia, running out 
into the sea in nearly a due south direction for about 
three miles. The greater part of this tongue consists of 
a very loftyrock. It rises abruptly from the land to the 
height of fully 1300 feet, presenting a face almost per- 


fectly perpendicular, and being consequently from that, 


its northern extremity, completely inaccessible. The 
west side, however, and the southern extremity, consist 
each of a series of precipices or declivities which admit 
of being ascended. The town, now containing a popula- 
tion of above 17,000 persons, is built on the west side. 
Alone the summit of the mountain, from north to 
south, runs a bristling ridge of rocks, forming a ragged 
and undulating line against the sky when viewed from 
the east or west. The whole of the western breast or 
the promontory is nearly covered with fortifications. 
Anciently, it is‘said, it used to be well wooded in many 
places; but there are now very few trees to be seen, 


1834.] 


allhough a good many gardens are scattered up and 
down both in the town and among the- fortifications. A 
great part of the rock 1s hollowed out into caverns, some 
of which are of magnificent dimensions, especially one 
called St. George’s Cave, at the southern point, which 
although having only an opening of five feet, expands 
into an apartment of two hundred feet in length by ninety 
in breadth, from the lofty roof of which descend numerous 
stalactitical pillars, giving it the appearance of a gothic 
cathedral. ‘These caves seem to have been the chief 
thine for which Gibraltar was remarkable among: the 
ancients. ‘They are mentioned by the Roman geogra- 
pher, Pomponius Mela, who wrote about the middle of 
the first century of our era.. The southern termina- 
tion of the rock of Gibraltar is called Europa Point, and 
has been sometimes spoken of as the termination in that 
direction of the European continent; but Tarifa Poimt, 
to the west of Gibraltar, is fully five miles farther 
south. 

It is impossible for us here to attempt any description 
of the fortifications which now cover so great a part of 
this celebrated promontory. Gibraltar was first forti- 
fied in the modern style by the German engineer, Da- 


NYY CR 


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= 
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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


21 


niel Speckel, at the command of the emperor Charles V. 
towards the close of the sixteenth century. But little of 
what was tlien erected probably now remains. Since 
the place fell into the possession of the English, no ex- 
pense has been spared to turn its natural advantages to 
the best account, and additions have repeatedly been 
made to the old fortifications on the most extensive 
scale. It is, now, without doubt, the most complete for- 
tress in the world. 

More than half a century ago Gibraltar was accounted 
by military men almost impreenable. ‘* No power 
whatever,” says Colonel James in his History of the 
Herculanean Straits, published in 1771, “ can take 
that place, unless a plague, pestilence, famine, or the 
want of ordnance, musketry, and ammunition, or some 


unforeseen stroke of Providence, should happen.” It is 
certainly now much stronger than it was then. One 


lmprovement which has especially added to its security 
is the formation of numerous covered galleries excavated 
in the rock, with embrasures for firme down upou both 
the isthmus and the bay. The interior of part of these 
works is represented in the annexed wood-cut. 
Gibraltar was taken by an English fleet, under the 


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[ Interior pf the Rock of Gibraltar, } 


command of Sir George Rooke and the Prince of Hesse 
Darmstadt, in July, 1704. The project of the attack 
was very suddenly formed at a council of war held on 
board the admiral’s ship, while the fleet was cruising in 
the Mediterranean, and it was apprehended that it would 
be obliged to return to England without having per- 
formed any exploit commensurate to the expectations 
with which it had been fitted out. 


hundred and fifty men, having surrendered after a bom- 
bardment of only a few hours. 


The affair proved a 
very easy one; the garrison, which consisted of one 


The assailants lost only 


sixty lives, the greater part by a mine which was sprung 
after they had etfected a landing. In the latter part of 
the sae year a most resolute effort was made to recover 
the place by the combined forces of France and Spain, 


which failed after it had been, persevered in for several | 


months, and had cost the besiegers not less than 10,000 
men. ‘The loss of the garrison was about 400. 

At the Peace of Utrecht, in 1713, the possession of 
Gibraltar was confirmed to England. In 1727, however, 
another attempt, on a formidable scale, was made by 
Spain to dislodge the foreigners. An army of 20,000 
men having encamped in the neighbourhood, the attack 
was commenced in February and continued till the 
12th of May, when it was put an end to by the general 
peace. In this siege the garrison lost 300 in killed and 
wounded; but the joss of the besiegers was not less 
than 3000. The guns in the fortifications, it is worthy 
of remark, proved so bad, that seventy cannons and 
thirty mortars burst in the course of the firme. _ 

But the most inemorable of all the sieges of Gibraltar 
was the last, which commenced in 1779, and did net 


22 


terminate till it had been continued for more than three 
years. Of this remarkable siege an excellent and inte- 
resting account has been given by Captain John Drink- 
water, who was present in the beleaguered fortress during 
the whole time. England was engaged in sustaining 
the contest with her revolted colomies in America, when 
hostilities were also commenced against her, first by 
France and some time after by Spain. ‘There is no 
doubt that, whatever were her professions, thie latter 
power took up arms merely with the object of recovering 
Gibraltar. ‘The Spanish ambassador having announced 
the intentions of his Court, in London, on the i6th of 
June, 1779, on the 21st of the same month all commnu- 
nication between Gibraltar and the surrounding coun- 
try was closed by command of the government of 
Madrid. It was the middle of the following month, 
however, before the Spaniards began to block up the 
fort. Jortunately, in the early part of this year, General 
George Augustus Eliot, who had been recently ap- 
pointed Governor, had arrived in the fort, and brought 
to the crisis that was approaching the aid of his great 
military science and talents, as well as of some of the 
highest moral qualities that ever adorned the soldier or 
the man. General Eliot, who was the ninth and 
youngest son of Sir Gilbert Eliot of Stobbs, in Rox- 
burghshire, was at this tune about sixty years of age, 
more than forty of which he had spent in the service of 
his country. Another fortunate circumstance was that 


a supply of provisions had arrived in the preceding 


April. Had it not been for this, the garrison might 
have suffered terribly from the sudden stoppage of their 
accustomed intercourse both with Spain and with 
Afviea. i | 

The first firme which took place was on the 12th of 
September, when a cannonade was opened from the fort 
which destroyed the works that the besiegers had spent 
many of the preceding weeks in erecting. The blockade, 
notwithstanding, became every day closer; and the oc- 
casional boats, which had for some time stolen in from 
the African coast and other places, at leneth found it 
impossible to continue their attempts. By the end of 
October provisions had become extremely dear. About 
the same time, too, the small-pox broke out among the 


Jewish inhabitants of the town, and every precaution - 


had to be used to prevent the spread of the disease. In 
November, the Governor, in order to try on how little 
food life and strength could be sustained, restricted 
lumself for eight days to four ounces of rice per day. 
‘Thistles, dandelions, wild leeks, &c., began to be eaten 
by the people of the town—and meat sold from half-a- 
crown to four shillings the pound. 

he first firing from the besiegers took place on the 
12th of January, 1780; and the first person wounded 
in the fort was a woman. By the end of March the 
first supply of provisions arrived, brought in by the 
gallant Admiral Rodney, who had not only cut his way 
to the assistance of his distressed countryman through 
all the opposition of the enemy, but had captured six of 
their men-of-war, including a sixty-four eun-ship with 
the admiral on board, together with seventeen merchant- 
men. His present majesty, then known as Prince 
William Henry, was serving on board one of Sir 
George Rodney’s ships as a midshipman, and often 
visited the garrison while the fleet remained in the bay. 
Captain Drinkwater relates that, on seeing a prince of 
the blood thus serving as a warrant-officer, the captive 
Spanish Admiral exclaimed that Great Britain well 
deserved the empire of the seas, when even her kines’ 
sons were found thus holding the humblest situations on 
board her ships. 

For a good many months after this, things con- 
tinued in nearly the same state. The garrison and 
townspeople were again and again reduced to the 
greatest privations by scarcity of provisions before sup- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[ JANUARY 18, 


plies arrived. In the spring of 1781; the besiegers at 
last opened their batteries, and continued firine upon 
the town till they had completely destroyed it. Ou the 
27th of April, however, a most gallant exploit was per- 
formed by a party from the garrison, who, making a 
sortie froin their fortifications, succeeded in setting fire 
to, and reducing to ashes, all the erections of the 
enemy, although distant not less than three-quarters of 
a mile. This, however, brought only a temporary 
relief. ‘The firing soon after recommenced, and, for 
more than a year, continued almost incessantly. In 
the course of 1752 it was, on the suggestion of General 
Boyd, returned from the Rock with red-hot balls, a 
device which was found to produce the most powerful 
effect. ‘The enemy, however, now prepared for a 
orand effort. On the 12th of September the combined 
fleets of France and Spaim arrived in the bay. Next 
morning there were drawn up around the south and 
west sides of the promontory a most formidable arma- 
ment, consisting of forty-seven sail of the line, seven of 
which were three-deckers, together with ten battering- 
ships, the strongest that had ever been built, and many 
frigates and smaller vessels. On land there lay an 
army of 40,000 men, with batteries on which were 
mounted 200 pieces of heavy ordnance. On the other 
side, the garrison now consisted of abont 7,000 effective 
men. The ships were permitted to take their stations 
without molestation; but, about a quarter before ten 
o’clock, as soon as the first of them dropped anchor, the 
citadel began to pour upon them its hitherto-reserved 
artillery. Now commenced a scene of terrible sub- 
limity. Four hundred pieces of the heaviest ordnance 
thundered without intermission, and filled the air with 
smoke and flame. ‘“ For some hours,” says Captain 
Drinkwater, “ the attack and defence were so equally 
well supported as scarcely to admit any appearance of 
superiority in the cannonade on either side. The won- 
derfil construction of the ships seemed to bid defiance 
to the powers of the heaviest ordnance. In the after- 
noon, however, the face of things began to change con- 
siderably. The smoke which had been observed to 
issue from the upper part of the flag-ship appeared to 
prevail, notwithstanding the constant application of 
water; and the admiral’s second was perceived to be in 
the same condition. Confusion was now apparent on 
board several of the vessels; and, by the evening, their 
cannonade was considerably abated. About seven or 
eicht o’clock it almost entirely ceased, excepting from 
one or two ships to the northward, which, from their 
distance, had suffered little injury.” 

In the end, the attack ended in the complete annihila- 
tion of the assailing squadron. All the larger ships 
were beaten to pieces or burnt. As night approached 
eroans and signals of distress from those on board the 
shattered navy supplied the place of the now slackened 
fire. Many of the wretched men were struggling for 
life in the waters; and the victors themselves at last put 
out to their assistance, and picked numbers of them up. 
The loss of the enemy was supposed to amount to about 
2000, including prisoners. Of the Ienglish there were 
only 16 killed and 68 wounded. The Rock was a much 
better defence than even those strong-built men-of-war. 
The assailants had had 390 pieces of ordnance in play ; 
the garrison only employed 80 cannon, 7 mortars, and 
9 howitzers. ‘‘ Upwards of 8300 rounds,” says Cap- 
tain Drinkwater, “* more than half of which were hot 
shot, and 716 barrels of powder, were expended by our 
artillery.” | 

Iiven this complete discomfiture, however, did -not . 
subdue the obstinacy of the besiegwers. They continued 
to encompass the place, and even to keep up a feeble 
fire upon it some months longer. At length the long 
blockade was terminated by the announcement of the 
signature of the preliminaries of a general peace on the 


1834.] 
2d of February, 1783. The men in the Spanish boat 


that came with the tidings of this event made their ap- 
pearance with ecstasy in their countenances, and ex- 
claiming, “ We are all friends!” It was not till the 
10th of March, however, that free intercourse was re- 
established by the arrival from England of the oflicial 
intelligence that peace had been concluded. General 
Eliot and his brave companions soon after returned 
home to receive the congratulations of their country ; 
and since this hard contest no foreign power has dared 
to assault Gibraltar. 


: THE LOCUST. 
Ti locust. belongs to that class of insects which natn- 
ralists distinguish by the name of gryllus, ‘The common 
erasshopper is of this genus, and in its general appear- 
ance resembles the “ migratory locust,” of which we 
have to speak. The body of this insect is long in pro- 
portion to its size, and is defended on the back by a 
strong corslet, either of a greenish or light-brown hne. 
The head, which is vertical, is very large, and furnished 
with two antenne of about an inch in length: the eyes 
are very prominent, dark and rolling: the jaws are 
strong, aud terminate in three incisive teeth, the sharp 
points of which traverse each other like scissors. The 
insect is furnished with four wings, of which the exterior 
pair, which are properly cases to the true wings, are 
tough, straight, and larger than those which they cover, 
which are pliant, reticulated, nearly transparent, and 
fuld up in the manner of a fan. ‘The four anterior legs 
ave of middling size; and of great use in climbing and 
feeding ; but the posterior pair are much larger and 
longer, and of such strength that the locust is enabled 
by their means to leap more than two hundred times 
the leneth of its own body, which is usually from two 
to three inches. Locusts, as the writer of this article 
has seen them in the Hast, are generally of a heht 
brown or stone colour, with dusky spots ‘on the corslet 
and wing-cases; the mouth and inside of the thighs 
tinctured with blue, and the wings with green, blue, or 
red. ‘These wings are of a delicate and beautiful texture ; 
aud in the fae fibres, by which the transparency is 
traversed, the Moslems of western Asia fancy that they 
can decy pher an Arabic sentence, which signifies “‘ We 
are the destroying army of God.” 
The female locust lays abont forty eggs, which in 
appearance are not unlike oat-grains, but ‘smaller, She 





covers them with a viscid matter by which they are | 


sometimes attached to blades of grass, but are more 
usually deposited in the ground. for this purpose she 
prefers light sandy earths, and will not leave the ego's 
i compact, moist, or cultivated grounds, unless she 
has been brought down on them by rain, wind, or 
fatigue, and rendered incapable of secking a more 
eligible situation. Having performed this, the female 
dies; and the eggs remain in the ground throughout 
the winter. If much rain occurs, the wet spoils them, 
by destroying the viscid matter in which they are enve- 
loped, and which is essemtial to their preservation. 
Feat also seems necessary to their production, for the 
litle worm, which proceeds from the egg, sometimes 
appears so early as February and sometimes not until 
May, according to the state of the seasun. ‘This, in the 
usual course, becomes a nymph, in which state it attains 
its full growth in about twenty-four days. After having 
ror a few days abstained from food, it then bursts its 
skin, comes forth a perfect animal; and immediately 
begins to unfold and trim its wines with the hinder 
feet. Ty he insects which first attain this state do not im- 
mediately fly off, but wait in the neighbourhood for 
those whose dev elopment i is more tardy; but when their 
ariny 1s formed, they take their flight from the district. 

'o those who lave not seen a a fight of locusts, it is 


difficult by description to convey an idea of the appear- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


i} 


3 


ance it presents. As seen approaching in the distance 
it resembles a vast opaque cloud, and as it advances a 
clattering noise is heard which is occasioned by the agi- 
tation and concussion of wing's in their close phalamxes, 
When they arrive they fill the air, like flakes of thick 
falling suow ; and we have known the bright and clear 
sky of C Tales become darker than that of Londen 
on soine heavy November day. 

Wherever they alight every vegetable substance dis- 
appears with inconceivable rapidity before them. ‘The 
most beautiful and highly-cultivated lands assumé the 
appearance of a desert, and the trees stand stripped of 
all their leaves, as in the midst of winter. After de- 
vourmg the frnits, the herbage, and the leaves of trecs, 
they attack the buds and the bark, and do not even 
spare the thatch of the houses. The most poisonons, 
caustic, or bitter plants, as well as the juicy and nu- 
tritive, are equally consumed; and thus “ the land 
is as the Garden of Eden before them, and behind 
them a desolate wilderness.” It seems as if nothing 
could appease their devouring hunger, and the enerey 
and activity they exhibit, ae the rapidity of their 
operations, almost exceed belief. ‘Their depredations 
are not confined to the open air ;—they scale the walls, 
and penetrate to the granaries and houses, They 
swarm from the cellar to the garret, and, within doors 
and without, they are a terrible nuisance, for they are 
contmually springing about, and often, in consequence, 
give a person startling raps on different parts of the 
face, affording very sensible evidence of the force w ith 
which they leap ; and, as the mouth cannot be opened 
without the danger of receiving a locust, it is impossible 
to converse or eat with comfort. When they have 
settled themselves at night, the ground is covered with 
them to a vast extent ; and, in some situations, they lie 
one above another several inches thick. In trav elling 
they are crushed beneath the feet of the horses ; and 
the animals are so terribly annoyed by the bouncing 
against them in all directions of the insects they have 
disturbed, that they snort with alarm, and become un- 
willing to proceed. 

It is not merely the livine presence of these insects 
which is ,terrible, but new calamities are occasioned by 
their death, when the decomposition of their bodies fills 
the air with pestilential miasma, occasionig epidemic 
maladies, the ravages of which are compared to those of 
the plague. ‘Thus famine and death follow in their 
train; and instances are not of rare occurrence in the 
Fast in which villages and whole districts have been 
depopulated by them. 

Under these circumstances it necessarily becomes an 
object of anxious attention, in the countries they are 
most accustomed to visit, either to prevent them from 
alighting on the cultivated grounds, or to drive them off 
or destroy them after they have descended. 

The impression is very general that noise frightens 
these insect devastators and prevents them from alight- 
ine. When, therefore, the people are aware of tlie 
approach of their armies, every kettle or other noisy 
instrument in the place is in requisition, with which, 
and by shouts and screeches, men, women, and children 


unite in the endeavour to make the most horrible din in 


their power. ‘The scene would be truly laughable, from 
the earnestness which every one exhibits in this strange 
einployment, were not all disposition to mirth checied 
by the consciousness of the fearful consequences of the 
invasion which it is thus endeavoured to avert. 

How far noise may really operate in preventing their 
descent in ordinary circumstances, it 1s not easy to 
ascertain; but on the approach of evening, or when 
exhausted by their journey, nothing can prevent them 
from alighting. They wil then descend even on the 
conceal rivers, of which some striking lstances. are 
recorded, 


24 


When a swarm has actually alighted, the means 
employed to drive them off are much the same as those 
to prevent their descent. But this is never attempted 
in wet weather, or until the sun has absorbed the dew, 
as the locust is quite incapable of flying while its wings 
are wet. When the swarm is large, or when it has 
come down on cultivated grounds, no measure of de- 
struction is practicable without sacrificing the produce ; 
but when the depredators have been driven to waste 
erounds, or happened in the first instance to descend 
upon them, various modes of extirpation are resorted to, 
of which the following is the most effective :—a large 
trench is dug from three to four feet wide, and about 
the same depth. The off side is lined with people 
furnished with sticks and brooms, while others form a 
semicircle which encloses the extremities of the trench, 
and the troop of locusts, which are then driven into the 
grave intended for them by the clamorous noises we 
have already described. ‘The party stationed on the 
other side push back such insects as attempt to escape 
at the edges, crush them with their sticks and brooms, 
and throw in the earth upon them. 


These insect devastators have fortunately a great: 


number of enemies. © Birds, lizards, hogs, foxes, and 
even frogs, devour a great number; and a high wind, 
a cold rain, or a tempest destroys millions of them. In 
the East they are used as an article of food. In some 
parts they are dried and pounded, and a sort of bread 
is made which is of much utility in bad harvests. ‘They 
are sold as common eatables in the bazaar of Bagdad, 
and the cooks of the East have various ways of pre- 
paring them for use. 





CHARACTER OF FRANKLIN. 
(From the 6 Gallery of Portraits? No, XX.) 


Few men ever possessed such opportunities or talents 
for contributing to the welfare of mankind ; fewer still 
have used them to better purpose: and it is pleasant to 
know, on his own authority, that such extensive services 
were rendered without any sacrifice of his own happi- 
ness. In his later correspondence he frequently alludes 
with complacency to a favourite sentiment which he has 
also introduced into his ‘ Memoirs ;’—‘* That he would 
willingly live over again the same course of life, even 
though not allowed the privilege of an author, to correct 
in a second edition the faults of the first.” 

His remarkable success in life and in the discharge 
of his public functions is not to be ascribed to genius, 
unless the term be extended to that perfection of com- 
mon sense and intimate knowledge of mankind which 
almost entitled his sagacity to the name of prescience, 
and made “ Franklin’s forebodings” proverbially omi- 
nous among those who knew him. His pre-eminence 
appears to have resulted from the habitual cultivation 
of a mind originally shrewd and observant, and gifted 
with singular powers of energy and self-control. ‘There 
was a business-like alacrity about him, with a discre- 
tion and integrity which conciliated the respect even of 
his warmest political foes ; a manly straicht-forwardness 
before which no pretension could stand unrebuked ; and 
a cool tenacity of temper and purpose which never for- 
sook him under the most discouraging circumstances, 
and was no doubt exceedingly provoking to his oppo- 
nents. Indeed his sturdiness, however useful to his 
country in time of need, was perhaps carried rather to 
excess; his enemies called it obstinacy, and accused him 
of being morose and sullen. No better refutation of 
such a charge can be wished for than the testimony 
borne to his disposition by Priestley (‘ Monthly Meea- 
zine, 1782), a man whom J*ranklin was justly proud 
to call his friend. In private life he was most esti- 
mable; two of his most favourite maxims were, never 
to exalt himself by lowering others, and in society to 
enjoy and contribute to all innocent amusements without 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[January 18, 1834. 


reserve. His friendships were consequently lasting, 
and chosen at will from among the most amiable as well 
as the most distinguished of both sexes, wherever his 
residence happened to be fixed. 

His chief claims to philosophical distinction are his 
experiments and discoveries in electricity; but Jie has 
left essays upon various other matters of interest and 
practical utility—an end of which he never lost sight. 
Among these are remarks on ship-building and light- 
houses; on the temperature of the sea at different 
latitudes and depths, and the phenomena of what is 
called the Gulf-stream of the Atlantic; on the effect of 
oil poured upon rough water, and other subjects con 
nected .with practical navigation; and on the proper 
construction of lamps, chimneys, and stoves. His sug- 
westions on these subjects are very valuable. His 
other writings are numerous; they relate chiefly to 
politics, or the inculcation of the rules of prudence and 
morality. Many of them are light and even playful ; 
they are all instructive, and written in an excellent and 
simple style; but they are not entirely free from the 
imputation of trifling upon serious subjects. The most 
valuable of them is probably his autobiography, which 
is unfortunately but a fragment. ’ : 

As a speaker he was neither copious nor eloquent ; 
there was even a decree of hesitation and embarrass- 
ment in his delivery. Yet as he seldom rose without 
having something important to say, and always spoke 
to the purpose, he commanded the attention of his 
hearers, and generally succeeded ‘in his object. ° ° 

ITis religious principles, when disengaged from the 
scepticism of his youth, appear to have been sincere, 
and unusually free from sectarian animosity.: ;.. 

Upon the whole, his long and useftl life forms an in- 
structive example of the force which arises from the har- 
monious combination of strong: faculties and feelings 
when so controlled by sense and principle that no one 
is suffered to predominate to the disparagement of the 


rest. 


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* .* The Office ot the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
99, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 


LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 


Printed by Winrram Crowxs, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


~ 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





116.] PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY.  [Januany 25, 1934, 





HAMPTON-COURT PALACE. 


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[ Middle‘Quadrangle of the Palace of Hampton-Court, } 


In the early part of the thirteenth century the manor | if the gift might be aecepted, the palace of Hampton 
of Hampton Court became the property of the powerful | Court was intended for his sovereign. Had Henry not 
community of military ecclesiastics, the Knights Hos- | obtained his object in this easy and smooth way, he 
pitallers of St. John of Jerusalem. From the prior of | no doubt would have resorted to rougher means. How- 
this order a lease of the place was obtained, about the | ever, the cardinal did not go unrequited. The king took 
year 1515, by the famous Wolsey, already Archbishop | the palace, but “in recompense thereof,” says Stowe, 
of York, Lord High Chancellor of ‘England, Cardinal, | “ licensed him to he in his manor of Richmond at his 
Legate & latere, and rapidly mounting to the zenith | pleasure, and so he lay there at certain times.” 

of his greatness. ‘The palace of Hampton Court owes This happened in the year 1526. The place after- 


its origin to this lordly spirit :— wards became the favourite residence of Henry; and it 
“¢ He was a man has also been inhabited by many of his royal SUuCCeSSOrS. 

Of an unbounded stomach, even ranking 3 Yet it is the name of Wolsey that still gives its chief 

Himself with princes.” 5 st historical interest to the spot. Not one of its crowned 


nd splendour, | possessors has left a memory within its courts and halls 
that either fills the imagination or lives in popular tra- 
dition like his. Call it genius, or only fortune, that 
lifted him to his airy height; there was a force and 


nor Richmond, nor Eltham, nor Greenwich, nor White- | power in this man’s meteoric course, the dazzle of which 
hall, nor St. James’s—that could vie withthe magnifi- | is not yet out of the eyes of his countrymen, after the 
cence of that which was rising under the hand of Wolsey. lapse of 300 years. What name in our old history is 
The daring projector was soon made to feel the impru- | still so familiar a sound among all classes as that of 
dence of which he had been guilty. ‘The structure, we | Cardinal Wolsey ? We know no other that comes naa 
are told, excited great envy at court, and Wolsey was |.1¢ in this respect, except that of Oliver Cromwell, a 

asked by Henry himself what he meant by building a | that is modern in comparison. Had these vo 
house s0 much finer than any of the royal palaces. The | been mere ruffians, however enormous, they ¥ fa 
aspiring minister, thus suddenly and sharply reminded | have been thus remembered. Story, song, and wnat- 
of whose breath he was the creature, had only one part | ever other modes of appeal there are from the heart of 
to take; he replied to his majesty’s question, that it was] one age to that of another which serve to convey and 
not for Rimself he had erected such a dwelling,—-that, | multiply fame, all revolt from unmixed and unadorned 


Vou. LI. | 1D 


In projecting this monument of his taste a 
he might be said to aim at over-topping even his royal 
master. Numerous as then were the residences of the 
King of England, there was no'one—neither Windsor, 


26 


villainy. There was a lofty and soaring magnificence 
in Wolsey’s nature, which, despite of all his faults and 
vices, threw a glory around him.: Nor was he probably 
without some amiable qualities, and some points that 
merited esteem from the coldest reason. ‘The character 
drawn of him to Queen Catherine, by the ‘f honest 
chronicler ” Griffith, may perhaps be allowed to describe 
him with nearly as much truth as force and liveliness :— 


‘¢' This Cardinal, 
Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
Was fashioned to much honour. From his cradlo 
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; 
Exceeding wise, fair-spoken and persuading :! 
Lofty and sour to them that loved him not ; 

. But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. 
And though he were unsatisfied in getting, 
(Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, 
He was most princely: ever witness for lim 
Those twins of learning, that he raised in you, 
Ipswich and Oxford ! one of which fell with him, 
Unwilling to outhve the good that did it ; 

The other, though unfinished, yet so famous, 

So excellent in art, aud still so rising, 

That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
His overthrow heaped happiness upon him ; 

For then, and not till then, he felt himself, 

And found the blessedness of being little ; 

And, to add greater honours to his age 

Than man could give him, he died, fearing God.” 


The palace projected and, in great part at least, 
erected by Wolsey, consisted of-five quadrangles. Of 
these only two now remain, the site of the other three 
being occupied by the new buildings, forming: what is 
called the Fountain Court, which were added by Sir 
Christopher Wren, in the reign of ‘William I11. Here 
are the suite of state rooms, the gallery containing the 
famous Cartoons of Raffaelle, and the principal apart- 
ments which have been inhabited by the royal family in 
modern times; but this portion of the palace neither 
corresponds in architectural character with the ancient 
design, nor has much pretension to superior elegance in 
itself. Sir Christopher’s attempts upon a Gothic eround- 
work were usually failures; his gemus was wholly 
averse to the spirit of that style. In the present in- 
stance, however, nothing Gothic was thought of. King 
William wanted rather a convenient than an ornamental 
building; and the mediocrity of the performance is 
probably attributable in some respects less to the taste 
of the architect than to that of his royal master. 

The Fountain Court forms the eastern division of the 
palace. The grand front looks towards the west ; and, 
although injured in character and effect by the intro- 
duction of modern windows among the fanciful and 
picturesque forms of the original design, is still a hand- 
some elevation. The quadrangle immediately within 
the gate, called the Entrance Court, is supposed to be. 
the most ancient part of the building. Here, there can 
be little doubt, we have Wolsey’s own work.- The 
apartments surrounding this court are for the most part 
tenanted by private families, to whom the privilege of 
residing here is granted by the crown. It is stated in 
the Guide Books that, including servants, the number 
of persons thus lodged in the palace is not less than 700 ; 
but, judging by the deserted appearance of the place, it 
is difficult to believe that it can be the nest of so largre 
a population. One of the rooms in this court is inte- 
resting as having been, it is said, the sleeping chamber 
of Charles I. after he was brought here by the army on 
the 24th of August, 1647. The few weeks which he 
spent at Ikampton Court between this date and the 


Lith of November, when he made his escape to the} 


Isle of Wight, witnessed the unhappy monarch’s last 
exercise of the semblance. of royal authority. ‘ He 
lived, for some time,” says Hume, “ in that palace, with 
an appearance of dignity and freedom. ‘ Such admirable 
equability of temper did he possess, that, during all the 
variety of fortune which 3 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


he underwent, no difference | send you the accompanying slight notice of asim 


{January 25, 


was perceived in his countenance or behaviour; and, 
though a prisoner, in the hands of his most inveterate 
enemies, he supported. towards all who approached him 
the majesty of a monarch; and that, neither with less 
nor greater state, than what he had been accustomed to, 
maintain. His manner, which was not in itself popular 
nor gracious, now appeared amlable, from its great 
meekness and equality.” The room, in which he is said’ 
to have slept, is a small octagonal closet, with an iron 
door. 
apartment his bed-chamber, the security afforded by the 
iron door inducing him to prefer if to a more spacious 
room, And it has also the credit of having been Wolsey’s 
oratory ; a tradition to which some remains of paintings 
on the walls, representing: the Last Supper and other 
scriptural subjects, have probably given origin. It is 
now,—— | 
© * To such base uses may we come, Horatio,’— 

used as a pantry. 

The next quadrangle, called the Middle Court, is 
also a part of the ancient palace. A conspicuous object 
on one of the sides of this court is an ancient clock, 
which was long said to have been made by the famous 
Lompion, but appears to be the work of another artist, 
Lindsay Bradley, who lived about the beginning of the 
Jast century. The date onitis in 1711. But the object 
of greatest interest here is the Great Hall, which is on 
the north side of the court: this is a noble room, 104 
feet in length by 40 im breadth, with a rich Gothic 
roof and a splendid oriel window. In 1527, an enter- 
tainment of extraordinary splendour was given, by order 
of Henry VIIT., to the French ambassador in Hampton- 
Court Palace ; Wolsey, who had the year before presented 
the palace to the king, having been commanded to pre- 
side over both the preparation and the solemnization of 
the festivities. On this occasion the magnificent Car- 
dinal seems to have exhausted his ingenuity to furnish 
out a succession of the most sumptuous revelries for the 
gratification and wonder of his guests. A long and 
minute account of the whole affair has been given by 
his biographer Cavendish, in a passage which has been 
frequently extracted. ‘Phe scene of the principal part 
of the entertainment is stated to have been the Great Hall 
of the palace. There are considerable doubts whether 
this was, as is commonly asserted, the present hall; for 


Cromwell is asserted to have made the same ~ 


’ 





the erection of that room has, by a very competent autho- 


rity, been assigned to a somewhat later date. Among 
its decorations are the initials of Henry and his queen, 
Jane Seymour, twisted by a true-lover’s knot; and 
this, as has been reinarked by Mr. Lysons, in his ‘ His- 
torical Account of those Parishes in the County of 
Middlesex which are uot described in the Environs of 
London,’ seems to prove that it must have been built 
either in 1536 or 1537, the only two years during which 
Jane Seymour was queen. To obviate the force of this 
objection, it has been supposed that this cipher might 
have been introduced while the hall was undergoing 
some repair in one of these years. ‘Phere can be no 
doubt, also, from the account given by Cavendish, that 
there was a Great Hall in the palace in 1527; and 
there is now no trace of any room answering his descrip. 
tion except this. This answers perfectly, having also a 
smaller apartment at one ed, now called the Board of 
Green Cloth, which seems exactly to occupy the position 
of what Cavendish calls the Chamber of Presence, in 
which some of the tables were set at the great feast. 





VOLCANIC ISLAND OFF THE AZORES. 
. (From a Correspondent.) 
H{avina seen, in a late Number of your Magazine, an 
account of the volcanic island which recently made its 
appearance off the south coast of Sicily, I pee aapye to 
ar 






So 
phe-, 


« 


1834.] 


nomenon which occurred off the Island of St. Michael; 
(Azores.) This event may be probably unknown to 
‘many of your readers, or forgotten by others, who will 
thus have an opportunity of comparing these two re- 
markable eveuits. 

In the night of the Ist of February, 1811, flames 
were observed issuing from the sea at the distance of 
about a mile and a half from the west end of St. 
Michael; and, soon after, a most awful and tremendous 
explosion took place, throwing up, from a depth of 

- forty fathoms, cinders, ashes, and stones of immense 
size. Quantities of fish, as if boiled, floated on the 
surface of the sea towards the shore; and a dangerous 
shoal was thus formed. On the 13th of June, two 
columns of white smoke were seen rising from the sea 
at this spot, and the Sabrina British sloop-of-war, sup- 
posing it to be the result of an engagement, made sail 
towards it. Jor two or three days previous, however, 
repeated shocks of earthquake had been felt in St. 
Michael, which threw down several cottages and por- 
tions of the cliff towards the north-west; but these 
ceased so soon as the volcano broke out. On the 18th, 
it was still ragitig with unabated violence, throwing up, 

as under the water, large stones, cinders, ashes, &c., 
accompanied with several severe concussions. About 
noon, on the same day, the mouth of the crater just 
showed itself above the surface of the sea where there 
was formerly forty fathoms of water; at 3 p.m. it was 

Been thirty feet above the water, and about a furlong 
in length. On the 19th, 1t was about fifty feet in 
height and two-thirds of a mile in length, still raging 
as before, and throwing up large quantities of stones, 
some of which fell a mile distant from the volcano. 'The 

smoke drew up several waterspouts, which, spreading: 
in the air, fell in heavy rain accompanied with vast 
quantities of black sand. 

On the 20th, the, Sabrina proceeded on a cruise, 
Jeaving the volcano about 150 feet_high, still raging as 
formerly, and increasing in size ;—when she returned, 
on the 4th of July, it was found quite quiet, and a com- 
plete island formed. ‘The captain and several officers 
landed upon it, and found it very steep, and between 
200 and 300 feet in height. It was with difficulty they 
were able to reach the top, which at last they effected, 
in a quarter where there was a gentle declivity; but the 
sround, or rather ashes, composed of sulphureous 
matter, dross of iron, &c., was so very hot to their feet 
that they were glad to return after having taken pos- 
session of the island in the name of his Britannic 
Majesty, and left an English Union Jack flying on it. 

The circumference of the island, which was of a 
eircular form, was, at this time, about a mile. In the 
middle was a large basin of boiling water, whence a 
stream, about six yards across, ran into the sea on the 
side facing St. Michael; and at the distance of fifty 
-yards from the shore, the water, although thirty fathoms 
deep, was too hot to hold the hand in. In short, the 
whole island appeared as a crater; the cliff on the 
outside as walls, steep within and without. 

The appearance of the volcano prior to the -crater 
showing itself above the surface, as seen from the 
nearest point of St. Michael, on a cliff about 400 feet 
above the sea, was that of an immense body of smoke 
revolving in the water almost horizontally, in varied 
involutions, when suddenly would shoot up a column of 
the blackest cinders, ashes, and stones, in form like a 
spire, and rising to windward at an angle of 10° to 20° 
from the perpendicular. The columns of ashes, &c., 
at their ereatest height, formed into branches resembling 
magnificent pines, and, as they fell, mixing with the 
festoons of white smoke, at one time assumed the ap- 
pearance of vast primes of black and white ostrich 
feathers; at another, that of light, wavy branches of the 


weeping Willow. ‘These bursts were accompanied by 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 


27 


explosions.of the most vivid lightning, and a noise like 
the continual fire of cannon aud musketry ; and, as the 
cloud of smoke rolled off to leeward, it drew up the 
waterspouts above mentioned, which formed a beautiful 


-} and striking addition to the scene. 


Subsequently, this islet sunk gradually into the sea, 
and, in the middle of October, no part was left above 
water; but a dangerous shoal remained in the place 
which it had occupied, and exists to this day, In Feb- 


ruary, 1812, smoke was again discovered issuing out of 


the sea near the spot. In Dr. Webster’s recent account 
of St. Michael may be found some further particulars 
relative to this submarine volcano. 





SPONGE. 


Tuis well-known marine production has been in use 
from very .early times, and naturalists were long em- 
barrassed whether to assign it a place in the animal 
or the vegetable kingdom. Most authorities now 


‘agree in putting the sponges in the lowest scale of 


animal life. ‘There are about fifty different species 
of sponges, of which nine or ten belong to this country. 
They are found in the Mediterranean and those seas 
in warm and temperate latitudes, diminishing 1n num- 
ber and becoming of inferior quality on the approach 
to cold regions. ‘They adhere to rocks in places the 
least exposed to the action of currents and waves, which 
the ebbing tide does not leave uncovered. The best 
sponges known to us are those which come from the 
Archipelago, where they abound near many of the 
islands, whose inhabitants may be said to subsist by the 
sponge-fishery, if we may so call it. At the Cyclades, 
for instance, sponge-diving forms the chief employment 
of the population. ‘The sea is at all times extremely 
clear, and the experienced divers are capable of distin 
euishing from the surface the points to which the sponge 
is attached below, when an unpractised eye could but 
dimly discern the bottom. Each boat is furnished with 
a large stone attached to a rope, and this the diver seizes 
in his hand on plunging head foremost from the stern. 
He does this in order to increase the velocity of‘ his 
descent ; thus economizing his stock of breath, 2s well 
as to facilitate his ascent when exhausted at the bottom, 
being then quickly hauled up by his coinpanions. Few 
men can remain longer than about two minutes below ; 
and, as the process of detaching the sponge is very 
tedious, three, and sometimes four divers descend. 
successively to secure a particularly fine specimen. 

The best sponge is that which is the palest and 
lightest, has small holes, and is soft to the touch. By 
the old physicians, sponge was regarded as a cure for a 
long list of maladies; this list is now much abridged, 
though burned sponge, in which form only it is used, 
still has a place in the materia medica, 





eg 


SHAKSPEARE’S CLIFF. 
THE subjoined is a view of the precipice south-west from 
Dover, which has been lone known by the name of 
Shakspeare’s Cliff, from the famous description in 
‘ Lear,’ which it is supposed to have suggested. In the 
first scene of the fourth act of that tragedy, the blind 
Gloster, while wandering on the heath, having met luis 
son Edgar, who does not discover himself, asks him, 
“‘ Dost thou know Dover ?” and when the latter answers 
“* Ay, Master,” rejoins 
“There is a cliff, whose high and bending head 

Looks fearfully in the confined deep ; 

Bring me but to the very brim of it. 
| From that place 

I shall no leading need,” 
From the first two of these lines the particular cliff 
here depicted has probably been fixed upon as that 
which the poct must have had in his mind. .The sum- 


roe 





28 


mit of this portion of the chalky battlement formerly 
overhung its base, and, as Gloster forcibly expresses It, 
looked fearfully i2 (not on, as it has often been printed, ) 
the confined deep. Shakspeare’s Cliff, however, has 
now lost this distinguishing peculiarity. So many por- 
tions have successively fallen from it that, instead of 
bending over the sea, it now retires at the top towards 
the land; and, as may be observed in the engraving, 
part of the precipice is broken off into a declivity. 
Another effect has been, that its height is considerably 
diminished, and the look down is not now so fearful as 
it must have been in Shakspeare’s days. 

Having led his father some way farther on, Edgar at 
length pretends to have brought him to the neighbour- 
hood of the Cliff. He then exclaims, 

“ Come on, Sir, here's the place :—Stand still; how fearful 

And dizzy ’tis to cast one’s eyes so low! 

The crows and choughs that — the midway air 

Show scarce so gross as beetles: half way down 

Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful trade! 

Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head ; 

The fishermen that walk upon the beach 

Appear like mice; and you tall anchoring bark 

Diminish’d to her cock; her cock, a buoy 

Almost too small for sight: the murmuring surge, 

That on the unnumber’d idle pebbles chafes, 

Cannot be heard so high. Ill look no more, 

Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 

Topple down headlong.” 

There has been some disputation among the commen- 

tators as to the poetical merits of these lines; and Dr. 


Johnson has chosen to say that he is far from thinking ' 





























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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 








{JANUARY 25, 


the description to be wrought to the utmost excellence 
of poetry. He conceives that it is unnatural for the 
mind when one is looking down a precipice, to be made 
to occupy itself with the observation of particulars, in- 
stead of being overwhelmed by the one great and dread- 
ful image of irresistible destruction. It is to be consi- 
dered, however, as Mr. Mason has well remarked, that 
Edgar is here describing only an imaginary precipice, or, 
at least, not one which he was actually looking down 
from. The passage is to be read with a recollection of 
the character, or assumed character, of Edgar; and 
whatever exaggeration there may be in it which is not 
sanctioned by the spirit of poetic representation, may be 
very fairly set down to the over-excited fancy and 
exalted language in which, as “ poor Tom,” the speaker 
throughout indulges. Some of the lines, however, inde- 
pendently altogether of this dramatic reference, are of 
exquisite beauty. What, for amstance, can be more 
musically descriptive than— 
‘ The crows and choughs that wing the midway air’ ? 
or, 
« ____. The murmuring surge, 
That on the unnumber’d idle pebbles chafes, 
Cannot be heard so high” ? 

These words bring the scene, not only to the eyes, but 
almost to the ear; they give both the sights and the 
sounds, 

The gathering of samphire, we may add, was actually 
pursued as a trade in Shakspeare’s days. The herb 
was much used as a pickle. 





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THE MIRAGE. 


Tur mirage is a very curious optical delusion, by which, 
instead of a simple perception, approximated, multiplied, 
and generally vertical images of an object are exhibited 
to the eye. We shall endeavour to describe some of the 
appearances presented—particularly that of the siraub, 
or, ‘ water of the desert,” of which we are enabled to_ 


speak, not only from the reports of others, but from per- 
sonal observation ; and shall then state the principles en 
which the phenomena are explained. 

There are few travellers in the East who do not for- 
cibly describe and feelingly complain of the suffering 
endured fromsthe want of water, in traversing the desert 





1834.] 


plains of Egypt, Syria, and Persia: and to complete 
the appalling statement, it is only necessary to add, that 
it is precisely in those districts where the traveller is 
exposed to the most intense agonies of thirst, that his 
wants are mocked by the illusion which it is our pre- 
sent object to describe. : 

Conceive an European in those countries travelling 
with— . 
“Some great caravan, from well to well, 

Winding as darkness on the desert fell,” 

where the ground beneath him resembles the hot ashes 
of a forge, and the atmosphere is felt as the vapour of a 
furnace. No river, spring, or lake has been seen for 
many days; and the water in the skins 1s quite ex- 
hausted, or so much reduced that a drop is more pre- 
cious than gold. Every eye is dim; every tongue, 
swollen, parched, and rent, cleaves to the roof of the 
mouth; and the Arabs begin to talk of killme the 
camels for the sake of the water contained in their 
stomachs. ‘In such circumstances it is easy to Imagine 
the delicht with which, in the heat of the day, the tra- 
veller perceives before him one or more lakes, reflecting 
on their clear surface the palm-trees, the hills, or any 
other objects around or within it, by which the unifor- 
mity of such a plain may be broken. He cannot make 
audible the joyful cry of ‘‘ water! water!” but puts 
his beast to its speed, and wonders, perhaps, that none 
of the natives, whose wants are equal, seem similarly 
excited by the appearance. But he soon finds, to his 
great astonishment, that he cannot reach the water for 
which he longs, even ‘‘ as the hart panteth for the 
water-brooks.” The shore of the lake recedes as he 
approaches, and its dimensions are consequently con- 
tracted until, if he proceeds, it disappears, and is fre- 
quently formed anew at a distance beyond him. Pausing 
to consider the phenomenon with more attention, the 
traveller, if an intelligent person, will identify the ap- 
pearance with what he has heard of the siraub; but the 
most attentive consideration will not enable him to detect, 
in the exhibition, any circumstances different from those 
which would be presented by real water. Sometimes 
the clear, calm azure reflects the objects around with 
the greatest precision and distinctness; and often the 
whitish vibratory volume exhibits the contours of the 
refiected objects as badly terminated, with that sort of 
indecision which always accompanies such representa- 
tions in water slightly ruffled by the wind. Local cir- 
cumstances sometimes contribute to give more striking 
effect to. the illusion. In Lower Eeypt, for instance, 
the villages, in order to avoid the effects of the inunda- 
tion of the Nile, are built on small eminences, scattered 
throueh a plain of vast extent. ‘Towards the middle of 
the day, when the eround was heated, each village often 
appeared to the French army, during the campaign 
in that country, as if surrounded, to the distance of a 
league, by a lake, in which, underneath the village, a 
distinct reversed image of it was represented. This 
illusion is altogether so perfect and so strong, that, in our 
own case, after repeated experience, we always, in the 
first instance, took the siraub for real water, unless when, 
froin local knowledge or the circumstances of the place, 
we knew its existence to be impossible or unlikely. 

In other circumstances the images are exhibited with- 
out the concomitant illusion of water; and of this a very 
curlous example was observed by Dr. Vince, at Rams- 
gate, on the 6th of August, 1806. Between that place 
and Dover there is a hill, over which the tops of the 
four turrets of Dover Castle are usually visible to a 
person at Ramsgate. But, on this occasion, Dr. Vince 
not only saw the turrets but the whole of the castle, 
which appeared as if it had been removed and planted 
cn the side of the hill next to Ramsgate, and rising as 
much above the hill on that side as it actually did on 
the other; and this image of the castle was so strong 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


29 


and well-defined, that the hill itself did not appear 
through it. It should be observed that there is almost 
six miles of sea between Ramsgate and the land from 
which the hill rises, and about an equal distance from 
thence to its summit; and that the height of the eye 
above the sea in this observation was about seventy feet. 

This phenomenon is not confined to the land. It is, 
perhaps, more frequently observed at sea; and indeed 
the very term (mirage) by which it is denominated 
originated with the French sailors. At sea the mirage 
is usually noticed under the form distinguished by the 
term “ suspension.” The object is then represented as 
above the water, painted, as it were, on the sky. Of 
this species of mirage we can find no instance more 
striking than that which was observed by Captain 
Scoresby, 28th of January, 1820, in the Greenland seas. 
The sun had shone during the day without the interven- 
tion of a cloud, and his rays had been unusually ardent. 
About six o'clock, p.m. a light breeze sprung up, and 
most of the ships navigating at the distance of ten or 
fifteen miles, amounting to abont eighteen or nineteen 
sail, appeared then to undergo a change of magnitude 
and form; and, when examined from the mast-head 
with a telescope, exhibited some very extraordinary 
appearances, differing in almost every point of the com- 
pass. One ship had an inverted image above it; ano- 
ther had two distinct images in the air; a third was 
distorted by elongation, the masts being nearly of twice 
the proper height; and others underwent contraction. 
All the images of.the ships were accompanied by a 
reflection of the ice, in some places in two strata. 

The images of the mirage are commonly vertical,— 
that is, presenting the appearance of one object above 
another, like a ship above its shadow in the water. 
Sometimes, however, though very rarely, they are 
horizontal or lateral,—that is, one or more images are 
represented on the same plane with the object. This 
form of the phenomenon has been observed on the Lake 
of Geneva by M. Provost, and, on the 17th of Septein- 
ber, 1818, by MM. Jurine and Soret, whose accomit 
we shall quote as the most distinct of the two. <A bark 
near Bellerive was seen approaching Geneva by the 
left bank of the lake, and at the same time an image of 
the sails was seen above the water, which, instead of 
following the direction of the bark, separated froin it, 
and appeared to approach Geneva by the right bank of 
the lake; the image moving from: east to west, while 
the bark moved from north to south. When the image 
separated from the object it was of the same dimensions 
as the bark, but it diminished as it receded, so that 
when the phenomenon ceased it was reduced one haif. 

This remarkable class of optical illusions is ac- 
counted for, as follows:—Whenever a ray of lhght 
strikes obliquely a medium less refracting than that in 
which it was previously moving, it is turned back into 
the original medium, and a direction is given to it 
precisely similar to that which would have been the 
result of a reflection taking place at the common 
surface of the two mediums. Now the sand of thie 
desert, or the surface of the sea, being heated by the 
rays of the sun, communicates a portion of its warmth 
to the stratum of air immediately superposed, which 
then dilates, and becomes consequently less dense, and, 
therefore, less refracting than the superior strata. Ji 
this state of things when an observer regards an object 
a little elevated above the horizon, the rays, which in 
coming to him traverse a layer of air of uniform density, 
will exhibit it in the natural position, while the light 
directed obliquely towards the surface of the earth will 
be bent downward, and so come to the eye as if from 
an object placed inversely and below the former. ‘This 
explains the inverted image below the object; but our 
limits will not allow us to apply the principle to a de- 
tailed explanation of all the forms of the phenome-_ 


# 


80 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. fJANUARY 25, 


non which we have stated. We must therefore con- 
tent ourselves with repeating that these effects result 
from a partial alteration in the clensity of the atmo- 
sphere, and the unusual operations to which the light 
ig in consequence subjected in coming to the eye. It 
is not necessary that the alteration should be a decrease 
of density, since, as the two opposite states of the at- 
mosphere produce the same effects, the mirage at sea is 
often occasioned by the increase of density in the lower 
stratuin of the atmosphere from the quantity of water 
which it holds in solution, 

We do not until 1797 find any but the most super- 
ficial notices of the mirage. In that year Mr. Huddart 


and Mr. Vince communicated instances of the pheno-’ 


menon to the Royal Society, and inquired into the causes 
which produced such illusions. Subsequently M. Monge 
in Egypt, and Dr. Wollaston in England, simulta- 
neously occupied themselves in the same researches, 
and, arriving at the same conclusions, their labours 
established the theory of the mirage on its, present 
basis. ‘The latter philosopher, to whom science 1s so 
much indebted, indicated very simple means for the 
artificial production of the most remarkable peculiarities 
of the illusion. Efe usually employed fluids for this 
purpose; but we shall adduce one very easy experiment 
of a different character. Dr. Wollaston took a red hot 
poker and looked along ithe side of it at a paper 10 or 
12 feet distant. A perceptible refraction took place at 
a clistance of three-eighths of an inch from it. <A letter 
incre than three-eighihs of an inch distant appeared 
erect a8 usual; at a less distance there was a faint 
reversed image of it; and still nearer to the poker was a 
second erect image, Sir David Brewster has also since 
contributed to extend our knowledge of the subject, and 
succeeded in obtaining very natural and beautiful imi- 
tations of the phenomena of the mirage, by the simple 
method of holding a heated tron over a mass of water. 
As the heat descends througn the fluid there is a regular 
variation of density, which @radually increases from the 
surface to the bottom. If the heated iron be withdrawn 
and a cold body substituted in its place, or even if the 
air be allowed to act alone, the superior strata of water 
will give out their heat so as to have an increase of 
density from the surface to a certain depth below it. 
‘Through the medium thus constituted, all the pheno- 
mena of unusual refraction may be seen in the most 
beautiful manner, the variation of density being pro- 
duced by heat alone. Sir David Brewster has also 
produced the same effects with plates of glass; and 
in applying the heat in different wavs to them, the 
remarkable phenomenon cf Doyer Castle has been 
readily imitated. : 


TEMPERANCE. 
(from the “ American Almanac for 1834,”) 


Tire evils of intemperance and drunkenness have been 
known and lamented ever since the means of intoxica- 
tion were discovered; but since the method was found 
out of extracting alcohol from fermented vegetable 
juices, these evils have been multiplied a thousand fold, 
in this country, more than twenty years since, the use 
of distilled spirit, under different names, had become so 
general, and the vice of intemperance so prevalent, as 
to excite the fears of patriots and Christians, not only 
ior the national morals, but for the existence of all our 
lustitutions of government, learning, and religion. 

In the year 1813 a society was organized in Boston 
by the name of the ‘ Massachusett’s Society for the Sup- 
pression of Intemperance.’ The objects of this Society, 
as expressed in its constitution and first report, were to 
suppress the “ too free use” of distilled or ardent spirit 
as drink; to substitute some other and wholesome 
crink for labourers in the place of this “ poison ;” and 


to discourage and do away the custom of offering it as a 
token of friendship or hospitality. For a number of 
years this society was considerably active and decidedly 
useful ; and its influence has been more or less salutary 
till the present time. But no great and striking pro- 
eress was made in the cause of ‘Temperance till the for- 
mation of the American Temperance Society in 1626. 
The object of this latter society, from its commence- 
ment, has been to do away a/l use of ardent or distilled 
spirit as drink; to promote temperance by means of 
entire abstinence from alcohol. ‘The members of this 
society, and the members of societies auxiliary to it, are 
pledged to abstain from the use of ardent spirit, except 
as medicine. Through the agency, direct and indirect, 
of the American Temperance Society, great and sur- 
prising changes have taken place in this country in rela- 
tion to the use of ardent spirit; and the subject has 
attracted the attention of most of the-nations in Europe. 

The almost universal use of ardent spirit in this 
country arose principally from three causes: first, from 
the love of excitement natnral to our race; secondiy, 
from the cheapness and ease with which excitement 
could be obtained from a small quantity of alcohol ; and 
thirdly, from the very general belief, that the use of a 
small. quantity, or, in other words, the temperate use of 
it, was really beneficial. I*rom this last cause, however, 
more than from all other causes, no doubt, arose the 
prevailing use of. ardent spirit, and, of course, almost all 
the evils of intemperance and drunkenness in the 
country. ‘The belief, that a moderate use of it was 
good for the stomach, the spirits, the blood, and physical 
strength, had taken, as is well known, strong and deen 
hold upon the public mind. Everybody knew and 
admitted, that it was wrong and injurious to drink 
much; but almost everybody was satisfied at the same 
time, that it was right and wholesome to take a little. 

Now this belief was either correct or incorrect: If 
correct, the proper course was to drink ardent spirit 
moderately ; and it was the proper business of Tempe- 
rance Societies to exert their. influence to keep the tem- 
perate users temperate, and to bring the intemperate 
users to the same practice. 

zut Wf the belief in question was grossly incorrect, 
then the proper course was, not only to call the public 
attention to the enormous and growing evils of intem. 
perance, but if possible, to undeceive the public mind 
concerning the nature and use of ardent spirit; and 
thus to lay the foundation broad and deep for the ulti- 
mate and entire suppression of the use of it as a common 
drink. 

dortimately for the cause of humanity, the truth on 
this subject was at length not only perceived, but felt : 
aud through the active labours of the friends of tempe- 
rance, within the last seven years, vast numbers have 
been fully convinced that distilled spirit used as a drink 
is not good but injurious and poisonous; that. the use 
of it is not fitted to the physical constitution or moral 
condition of the human family. 

All sorts of arguments, bearing upon the subject, 
have been brought forward to-change the public mind; 
but the most successful argument has been that derived 
from .personal experience. All that have been in the 
habit of using ardent spirit, whether moderately or 
immoderately, and have exchanged the habit for that of 
entire abstinence from it, have declared, without a 
known exception, that they are decidedly better. without 
it than they ever were with it. 

rey. ° 

Phis argument, from personal experience, 1s plain, 
practical, and perfectly unanswerable. It can be under- 
stood without studying books of anatomy, chemistry, or 
medicine. It -can be brought to the test by every 
drinker of ardent spirit, temperate or intemperate, who 
will take the pains to try it. And the frends of temn- 


perance maintain, that the experience of the vast num- 











~ 


1834.) 


bers who have tried it and found it perfectly satisfactory, 
added to the admitted evils of intemperance, lay upon 
she remainng drinkers of ardent spirit the strongest 
moral obligation to make the experiment of abstinence, 
and to make it fairly and fully. — 

Since the formation of the American Temperance 
society in 1826, more than 5000 temperance societies 
lave been formed, and more than twenty of them State 
societies, within the United States,—comprising many 
men of the first respectability for character, talents, and 
influence ; and the whole number of members amounts 
to about a million. And it is believed, that the tem- 
perance reformation has exerted a very salutary in- 
fiuence upon the personal habits of a still greater num- 
ber of persons who have not united with any temperance 
society, P 

It is stated in the Sixth Report of the American 
‘emperance Society, that, since the temperance refor- 
mation commenced in this country, more than 2000 
» persons have discontinued the business of making ardent 
spirit, and more than 60900 left off selling it ;—that 
more than 5000 drunkards, having ceased to use in- 
toxicating drinks, have ‘become sober men; that 700 
vessels are now navigated without using it; and though 
they visit every clime, at all seasons of the year, and 
make the longest and most difficult voyages, the men 
are uniformly better in all respects than when they used 
it; that out of ninety-seven vessels belonging to New 
Bedford, Massachusetts, seventy-five sail without ardent 
spirit; and that, on account of the increased safety to 
property, it has become common for insurance com- 
panies to insure those vessels which carry no spirituous 
liquors for a less premium than others. 

The reformation has exerted a visible and most 
happy influence on a great many towns and villages; 
on manufacturing establishments of various kinds; on 
communities engaged in agricultural employments, and 

n the labouring classes of all pursuits. Of these 
classes, the least exhausted by fatigue, the most cheer- 
ful and happy at the close of the day, and the most 
refreshed and invigorated when the morning returns, 
are they who make no use of distilled spirit as drink. 
But notwithstanding much has been done in the way of 
reform, very, very much remains to be done. ‘The use 
of ardent spirit as drink is still a great national cala- 
mity, as well as national sin; and great impediments 
still.e in the way of its removal. 





Advantage of Activity—As animal power is exhausted 
exactly in proportion to the time during which it is acting, 
as well as in proportion to the inteusity of force exerted, 
there may often be a. grent saving of it by doing work 
quickly, although with a little more exertion during the 
time. Suppose two men of equal weight to ascend the same 
stair, one of whom takes only a minute to reach the top, 
and the other takes four niinutes, it will cost the first little 
more than a fourth part of the fatigue which it costs the 
second, because the exhaustion is in proportion to the time 
during which the muscles are acting. The quick mover 
may have exerted perhaps one-twentieth more force in the 
first instant to give his body the greater velocity, which was 
afterwards continued, but the slow supported his load four 
times as long.— Arnott's ‘ Elements of Physics. 





THE CHETAH, OR HUNTING LEOPARD. 


THE state of domestication, or rather, perhaps, of sub- 
jugation to man, in which many animals (and we allude 
more especially to those of the class mammalia) are 
born and bred, constitutes ‘not only a curious and 
interesting feature in the review we take of nature, but 
aifords a wide subject for speculation and inquiry. 
some animals, as far as we may trace back the records 
of history, appear from the earliest dawnings of society 


THE PENNY: MAGAZINE, 3] 


Mn 


to have been, as now, the slaves or the companions of 
man; so that not only is their origin enveloped in ob- 
scurity, but in some instances at least, it may admit of 
a doubt, whether the wild races cf the animals re- 
ferred to are not rather to be regarded as the’ descend- 
ants of a domestic stock, which at a remote epoch has 
by some fortuitous accident been left to itself,—or 
has brought forth a progeny under circumstances, 
which, compelling thein to a life of freedom, led thein 
to become the forefathers of a wild and untamed race. 
‘This, however, is but a speculation, and as such we 
leave it. | 

if. there are some animals which seem created 
expressly for the use of man,—animals whose interests 
are united with his, or which constitute no mean portion 
of the wealth of civilized nations, and in fact require 
the care of man as much as man requires their invalu- 
able services,—there are on the other hand a few which 
yield reluctantly to his supremacy, are in bondage to 
rigid discipline, and wear with impatience the yoke of 
servitude, subdued by fear alone. ‘These, neverthe- 
less, he has made subservient to his will, and that rather 
by availing himself of their strong instinctive propensities, 
than by modifying in any degree their fixed and unalter- 
able character. ‘This is itself no easy task, and in order 
to accomplish it, it is requisite that the animal be taken 
young’, aud subjected early to a due system of education, 
in order that habits of obedient submission may be 
formed, and that the fear of man may grow with its 
erowth. ‘These reflections suggest themselves as we 
turn from the contemplation of the dog to that of the 
chetah, or hunting leopard of India. oth are car- 
nivorous ; both prey upon the flesh of slaughtered 
animals; both are naturally ferocious; and both are 
used by man in hunting down his game. In the dog, 
however, we find am aptness and a docility which render 
him less the slave than the friend and companion of 
his master, whose actions and looks he watches with 
solicitude, and to whom lie evinces unshaken fidelity. 
The character of the chetah is the counterpart of ail 
this; such as it is when in a state of freedom, that 
is it also when in bondage. | 

The chetah (felis yubata) belongs to the typical genus 
(felis) of the ** carnassiers” of Cuvier, though in one 
point it offers a slight departure of form froin the group 
with which it is associated ;—we allude to the semi- 
retractile condition of the talons. If we examine the 
talons of the lion or tiger, we find them capable of 
being withdrawn into a sheath, so that unless when 
brought into action they are completely hidden. ‘This 
retractability results from the mechanism of the Joint 


uniting the last phalangal bone to the one which pre- 


cedes it, so that the former bone, which is partially en- 
cased in the talon or hooked nail, is allowed to pass by 
the inner side of its predecessor. ‘The retraction 1s 
involuntarily effected by a lateral ligament, which 
acts as a sort of spring, and by the natural action 
of the extensor muscles of the fore-arm operating by 
means of tendons on the bones to which these formi- 
dable engines are attached. Now, in the chetah, the 
talons are at best but partially retractile from the laxity 
of the ligaments, and, consequently, are more worn and 
blunted at the points than is the case in the lion, tiger, 
or pauther; besides this, the paw is less rounded and cat- 
like, and, in fact, more approaching that of the dog in 
its general form than is to be found in any other of tlic 
genus. In anatomical conformation, however, as well 
as in disposition, the chetal: is strictly feline. 

The’ chetah is a native of India, where it is trained 
for the chase; and also of Africa. It is as large, or 
nearly so, as the leopard, but is superior in heicht, 
owing to the length of its limbs, which are slender and 
tapering ; its body also is Jess robust, and reminds one, 


32 


in some degree, of that of the oreyhound. The fur is 
more than moderately full, and of a yellowish fawn- 
colour, beautifully covered with round black spots ; and 
a distinct stripe of this colour passes from the inner 
angle of the eye to the mouth. A thin hog-like mane 
runs down the back of the neck. The forehead and outline 
of the profile are convex; the eye is very fine, large, and 
expressive. In Col. Sykes’s Catalogue of Animals found 
in the Deccan (see ‘ Proceedings of the Committee of 
Science and Correspondence of the Zoological Society,’ 
Part i. p. 102), he observes that domestication produces 
a difference in the fur of the ‘ cheeta,” which has led to 
the supposition of there being two species (that which is 
maned being assigned exclusively to Africa, termed felts 
jubata,—the other felis venatica) ; whereas the truth is 
that the “ skin of the wild animal has a rough coat, in 
which the mane is marked ; while domesticated animals 
from the same part of the country are destitute of mane, 
and have a smooth coat.” Hence the supposition of 
there being two species falls to the ground. 

In the ‘ Field Sports of India,’ the mode of coursing 
with the chetah is thus described :—‘ They are led out 
in chains with blinds over their eyes, and sometimes 
carried out in carts; and when antelopes or other deer 
are seen on a plain, should any of them be separated 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


the blinds are removed, and the chain taken’ off. He 
immediately crouches and creeps along with his belly 
almost touching the ground, until he gets within a short 
distance of the deer, who, although seeing him ap- 
proach, appears so fascinated, that he seldom attempts 
to run away. The chetah then makes a few surprising 
spring's, and seizes him by the neck. If many deer are 
near each other, they often escape by flight; their 
number, I imagine, giving them confidence, and pre- 
venting their feeling the full force of that fascination, 
which to a single deer produces a sort of panic, and 
appears to divest him of the power, or even inclination, 
to run away or make resistance. It is clear that they 
TMoust always catch them by stealth, or in the manner I 
have described, for they are not so swift even as com- 
mon deer.” © 

To this.account we may add that, should the che- 
tah miss his aim, he desists from further pursuit, and 


[January 25, 1834. 


slinks back to his master, who replaces the hood, and . 


reserves him for another chance. When he is suc- 
cessful, the ferocity of his nature at once displays itself, 
so that, to recover the prey, the keeper is obliged to be 
extremely cautious, enticing him with meat carried for 
that purpose. These beautiful creatures are rare in 
collections, in this country: but the menagerie of the 


from the rest, the chetah’s head is brought to face it, | Zoological Society contains three or four fine specimens. 


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Vol. Iit. 


34 


In the advanced state of civilization to which we have 
now attained in this country, we possess many ad- 
vantages of the highest importance, which are indeed 
essential to our daily comfort, but which, presenting 
themselves with unfailing regularity, pass without ob- 
servation; and almost without our being conscious of 
enjoying them. Among the principal of these may be 
reckoned an efficiént and -well-regulated system for the 
transmission of letters, not only through every district 
and into every nook and cranny of the British islands, 
but also to and from every part of our wide-spread 
dominions, as well as every other civilized. country on 
the habitable globe. : 

We cannot, perhaps, more forcibly present to our 
ininds the.great value of this institution than by linagin- 
ing what must be the condition of this country, in all 
its various relations, if a sudden stop were put to the 
active operations of our Post-office. What a check 
would this occasion to profitable commerce! How 
importantly would it intericre with that proper pro- 
portioning of supply to demand which is essential to 
the comfortable existence of every well-peopled country ! 
What losses would sometimes be occasioned by gluts,— 
what privation, at other times, by scarcity,—if the 
channels for information were closed by which the 
wants. of each community are now regularly made 
known to every other! Nor would it be found the 
least among the misfortunes which such an accident 
would bring about, that the anxieties of friendship and 
affection on account of these from whom we might be 
separated would then be susceptible of only precarious 
relief. But it is unnecessary to enlarge upon this 
topic, since cverybody must acknowledge that the 
destruction of our Post-office system would inflict upon 
the social body one of the heaviest blows that it is 
capable of receiving. 

In a very early stage of society, the rulers of every 
country would perceive the necessity of employing 
messengers for the transmission of their orders and 
laws to every part of their dominions; and as this 
necessity would be constantly recurring, it would soon 
be found advantageous—if not indeed indispensable— 
to organize a system by which the labour of such a ser- 
vice might be diminished, and its details simplified. At 
first, special messengers would probably be sought for 
as each occasion for employing them arose. ‘The next 
step would be to appoint professional couriers, and to 
assien particular stations or posts between which each 
of these couriers should pass, delivering their despatches 
from ofie to the other so as to imsure certainty and 
celerity in their transmission. It would not be long 
before individuals, seeing: the benefit accompanying 
this institution, would be desirous of profiting by it for 
the transmission of their own correspondence, and 
would willingly pay a compensation to the sovereign 
for such a privilege. Posts thus established must be 
considered as at once marks of civilization and means 
for extending it. It can only be in an advanced condi- 
tion of society that the private correspondence of a 
country would be so iicreased ‘that the conveyance of 
-letters would come to be a source of revenue to the 
state. The Roman emperors estublished Posts, and 
ihe same institutions are described by Xenophon as 
existing in Persia in the time of Cyrus. But such ar- 
rangements must have borne but small resemblance to 
the systematic pians in operation at present for the con- 
veyance of intclligence both public and private. In 
fact, it is only in times comparatively modern that the 

ublic convenience has required such institutions, or 
that they could have been made to support themselves. 
Three centuries ago the couriers, or foot messengers, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[JANUARY 3], 


populated, and almost without roads. It is the same 
at the present day in the wild districts of South America. 

Humboldt informs us, in his ‘ Vues Pittoresques 
des Cordilléres,’ that, in order to maintain a post 
communication between the, shores of the South 
Pacifie and the province of Jaén de Brancamoros, 
Indians are employéd, who during two days descend 
the river Guancabamba, or Chamaya, and afterwards 
the Amazon river as far as Tomependa. The courier, 
before he commits himself to the water, wraps the few 
letters, with which he is charged monthly, sometimes in 
a handkerchief, and at other times m a species of 
drawers called guayuco, and this he disposes in the 
form of aturban round his head. In this turban he 
also places the large knife or cutlass with which he is 
always provided, less as a means of defence than to 
assist him in clearing the underwood while making his 
way through the forests. ‘The Guancabamba is not 
navigable, by reuson of a great number of falls and 
rapids ; these the postman passes by land, taking again 
to the water as soon as all danger from them is over. 
To assist him nr swimming, the Indian provides himself 
with a log of very light wood, generally the trunk of 
the bombax. ‘These men, who are known in the country 
as the swimming~-couriers—ed coreo que nada, have no 
occasion to encumber themselves with provisions, their 
wants being abundantly supplied by the hospitable 
inhabitants of the cottages which they pass on the 
banks of the rivers. : 

Louis XI. of France, by a royal ordinance, dated the 
19th of June, 1464, established a system of posts in 
that kingdom, but only for the particular use of the 
court, and that he might be the sooner and more cer- 
tainly informed of any political movements in his own 
kingdom and in neighbouring states. Jn thé beginning 
of the thirteenth century pedestrian messengers were 
maintained as a part of the establishment of the Uni- 
versity of Paris, and these messengers were employed 
il conveying money and letters to and from that capital 
for the students of the university, who were at that tine 
collected there from almost every country of Europe. 
The first organized plan for the transmission of private 
correspondence in France was formed in 1619, when a 
public letter-office was opened. <A few years earlier 
than this last-mentioned date, the Count de Taxis esta- 
blished posts in Germany, at his own expense and as a 
private speculation. The scheme was, however, soon 
adopted by the government, on which occasion the Em- 
peror Matthias, in acknowledgment of his public spirit, 
gave to the Count, in fief, the charge of postmaster 
under himself and his successors. This was in 1616. 

Posts, for the accommodation .of travellers, cer- 
tainly existed in England before the middle of the 
sixteenth century ; for, by the 2nd and 3d Edward VI., 
cap. 3, (1548,) the rate at which post-horses might be 
charged was fixed at one penny per mile. There was 
a chief postmaster of England in the reign of Eliza- 
beth (anno 1581); and we learn from the ‘ Feedera,’ 
tom. xix., p. 385, that the office of postmaster for 
foreion parts was first created by her successor, James I, 
The Post-ofhice erected by that monarch, and which 
was placed under the management of one Matthew ce 
l’Equester, was employed for the conveyance of letters 
to and from foreign countries. On the authority just 
quoted, we are told that this office of postmaster for 
foreign parts was confirmed by Charles I., in 1632, to 
William Frizell and ‘Thomas Witherings, and the object 
of their appointment is declared to be “ the better 
accommodation of the English merchants.” In the 
same reign a letter-office for England and Scotland 
was placed uncer the management of the said Thomas 


that were employed in Europe for the conveyance of | Witherings, and the rates of postage to be charged 


letters from one person of distinction to another, made 


were settled by the royal authority, This was in 1635; 


their way slowly and laboriously over countries thinly | but this convenience was afforded to only afew-of the 





1834.] 


principal roads, and theye was no certainty as to the 
times of departure or receipt of letters committed to it. 
Witherings, having been charged with abuses in the 
administration of his offices, was superseded in 1640, 
-on which occasion their direction was committed to 
Philip Barlamachy, but subject to the control of the 
king’s principal Secretary of State. In the confusion 
occasioned by the breaking out of the civil war, con- 


siderable interruption was necessarily occasioned in the 


management of the Letter-office. The advantages of 
the institution had, however, become sufficiently appa- 
rent at that time to prevent its falling into disuse, and 
the imatter was speedily taken up by Parliament. 
Mr. Edmund Prideaux, who held the appointment of 
Attorney-General to the Commonwealth, was appointed 
postmaster by a resolution of both Houses of Parlia- 
ment, This gentleman ‘had acted as Chairman of a 
Committee of the House of Commons to which the 
subject of the Post-office had been referred, in order to 
determine the rates of postage that should be set upon 
inland letters. In the execution of his office, Mr. Pri- 
deaux first established (in 1649) a weekly conveyance 
of letters into all parts of the kingdom, on a plan 
whereby he could dispense with the services of several 
postinasters, whose salaries had amounted to 70004J, 
per annum. 

In the same year the Common Council of the city of 
Loudon attempted to establish another Post-office in op- 
position to that conducted by Prideaux ; but this specula- 
tion of the citizens was checked by the House of Com- 
mons, who declared, by a resolution passed the 21st of 
March, 1649, that “ the office of Postmaster is and ought 
to be in the sole power and disposal of Parliament.” 
The office was remodelled by Parliament during the Pro- 
tectorate, and rates of postage were then adopted which 
were continued -until the reion of Qieen Anne. ‘The 
inviolability of private,correspondence was by no means 
recognised even by so popular an assembly as the 
Commons’ House of Parliament during the Protectorate. 
=o openly, indeed, was the contrary doctrine avowed, 
that we find it stated in the preamble to an ordinance 
of 1657, as a strong recommendation in favour of the 
institution of posts, that ‘ they will be the best means 
to discover and prevent many dangerous and wicked 
designs against the Commonwealth.” Whether any 
particular and responsible officer was then exclusively 
permitted to examine suspécted correspondence, does 
not appear. In the present day any letters particularly 
desiguated may be detained in the Post-office, and even 
opened, by virtue of a warrant from any one of his 
Majesty's principal Secretaries of State,—a proceeding 
which is not likely to be taken except on very strong 
grounds ; while any similar violation of the trust reposed 
in the Post-office, if committed without this warrant, 
has been rendered highly penal by act of Parliament. 
ome further improvements were introduced after the 
Restoration, by the act 12 Car. II. cap. 35, under 
which the king was empowered to “ settle a Post-office 
and appoint a governor.” : 

The progress of this important political and com- 
mercial engine appears to have been very rapid about 
this time. Before Mr. Prideaux’s appointment, the 
establishment had cost 7000/. per annum beyond its 
income. In’ 1653 the Post-office revenue for Eng- 
land, Scotland, and Ireland was farmed at 10,0007. 
perannum. At the time of the Restoration it brought 
in double that sum. By the Act 15 Car. EI., cap. 14, 
this branch of the public income was settled upon 
the Duke of York, afterwards James II., and his 
heirs male; and, in the year of that king’s accession, 
a further aet declared that. this revenue, which then 
amounted to 65,0002, per annum, should belong to the 
King and his successors, as part of their private estate 
for ever, and that consequently it should not be ac- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


39 


counted for to parliament. This erant was resumed 
by the legislature at the Revolution; and in 1699 the 
revenue derived from the Post-office brought upwards 
of 90,000/. to the Exchequer. During all this time the 
same rates of postage had been levied, so that the 
growth of revenue gives an accurate measure of the 
constantly increasing utility of the institution. The 
rates have since that time been frequently increased, 
but the amount of correspondence throughout the 
kingdom has, notwithstanding, been multiplied in a 
still greater degree. 

In the year 1792, at the breaking out of the war 
consequent upon the French Revolution, this branch 
of public revenue produced 368,9701. to the Exchequer ; 
in 1801, the year of the Peace of Amiens, the sum 
realized from that source was more than doubled ; being 
843,976/.; and in 1814, the yearof the Treaty of Paris, 
1,532,153. was the net amount of revenue arising from 
the postage of letters. Since that time, the income from 
this source has not increased. The year 1825 produced 
the largest amount of Post-office revenue, it having 
then “reached 1,670,219/.; and in each year since the 
sum has been between 1,500,000/, and 1,600,000/. 

The utility of the Post-office, even as a source of 
revenue, must not be appreciated solely by the amount 
of money which it yields directly to the state, since 
it must be considered also as auxiliary to other 
branches of public income. An institution by which 
the facility of frequent, punctual, and guick communi- 
cation is secured to the country, has higher claims 
to consideration than as a merely financial object; itis 
essential to the purposes of government, may be made 
to subserve all the ends of national policy, and is ne- 
cessary to the daily comfort and convenience of almost 
every Individual in the kingdom, It has been justly 
remarked that, “‘ in a prosperous state of the country, 
the productiveness of this branch of revenue, in a finan- 
cial calculation, will be measured by the proportion in 
which, under judicious management, the institution is 
made to contribute to the interests, the convenience, 
and the habitual indulgence of the community.” 

There cannot be a stronger proof of the truth of this 
remark than is furnished by the history of the British 
Post-office during the last years of the eighteenth 
century. ‘The improvements suggested by Mr. Palmer 
in the mode of circulating letters through Great Britain 
and Ireland, were, after much opposition, first partially 
introduced in 1784; and were fully carried into practice, 
as regards England, within the two following years. 
In the twenty years that followed the adoption of Mr. 
Palmer’s plan, the gross annual receipts of the Post- 
office department were trebled, and, by economical ar- 
rangements, its net produce was very nearly quintupled. 
This extraordinary increase is no doubt‘in part to be 
referred to the peculiar circumstances of the country, 
which, during the greater part of the period just men- 
tioned, experienced a high degree of excitement in all 
its branches, both political and commercial, far beyond 
what it had ever previously undergone ; but this remark 
hardly applies to the period that preceded the war of 
1792, in which year the net revenue of the Post-office 
was already double what it had been in 1784. ) 

The improvements sug¢¢ested and carried into effect 
by Mr. Palmer were so simple in their character, and 
of so very obvious a nature, as to render it surprising 
that it should have been left to an individual uncon - 
nected with the establishment to suggest them. Sull 
more difficult is it to account for the fact that, when 
once suggested, their simplicity and reasonableness did 
not at once overcome even official prejudices, or at least 
check that avowed opposition by which even a trial of 
them was sought to be prevented. 

Mr. Palmer, who was a proprietor of the theatre at 


| Bath, observed that the post which left that -city on 


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MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 





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Monday night, did not deliver its letters in London until 
2 or 3 o’clock in the afternoon of the following Wednes- 
day, and sometimes even later; the letters were then 
delivered in London at different times of the day, as each 
post arrived. On the other hand, the Diligence coach, 
which left on Monday afternoon, arrived in time ‘suffi- 
ciently early for the delivery of packets by 10 o'clock 
on the Tuesday morning. The charge upon a single 
letter sent by the post from Bath to London was then 
only four pence, and the expense by the Diligence, for 
booking, carriage, and porterage, amounted to two 
shillings; but so important was it found by the trades- 
men of Bath to insure an early delivery of their letters, 
that not only were they generally willing to incur this 


larger charge by sending their letters in the form of: 


coach parcels, but the porters of the inn whence tlie 
packets were delivered were usually stimulated to extra 
haste by the promise, in that case, of an additional 
payment, and which promise formed part of the direc- 
tion. : 
The slow rate of travelling here mentioned was b 

no means peculiar to the Bath mail. The post of 
Monday night from London reached Norwich, Wor- 
cester, or Birmingham, only on Wednesday morning, 
and did not arrive at Exeter until Thursday morning at 
9 o'clock. Dr. Cleland, in his ‘ Statistical Account of 
Glasgow,’ tells us that before the introduction of mail 
coaches into that part of the kingdom in 1788, the 
course of post from London to Glasgow was five 
days, the letters being then carried round by Edin- 
burgh. This writer mentions a curious circumstance, 
which shows how slowly improvement was allowed to 
proceed in those days. Only five London mails had 
usually arrived in Glasgow during the week, it not 
being’ customary to receive or despatch letters at or 
from Edinburgh on Sunday; but when the mail-coach 
conveyance had been brought under Mr. Palmer’s im- 
provements as far as Carlisle, it occurred to the managers 
of the Post-office that the sixth mail for Glaseow, which 


the Sunday regulation of the Edinburgh Office pre- 
vented being passed through that medium, might be 
conveyed by the mail coach to Carlisle, and forwarded 
thence to Glasgow. By this means the sixth mail reached 
Glaseow in four days, while the conveyance of the other 
five continued, for a year beyond this time, to occupy 
five days. It appears to have required the whole of 
that time in order to discover that the five mails, which 
required five days to reach Glasgow by Edinburgh, 
might, lke the sixth, be carried by Carlisle in four 
days. 

The letter-bags from the Post-office were, previously 
to 1784, entrusted to boys who were ill-paid, and 
frequently of very doubtful characters. They travelled 
upon miserable horses, and were equally unable to defend 
themselves from the attacks of robbers, or to escape by 
flight. In fact, the waylaying of these boys for the pur- 
pose of robbery was at that time an affair of constant 
occurrence, and often not without suspicion of collusion 
on the part of the carriers. 

The principal feature in the improvement sugested 
by Mr. Palmer was the discontinuance of this horse- 
post, and the employment of coaches, which, in con- 
sideration of their liability to attack from robbers, 
should each be provided with an armed man to ruard 
them. It formed a part of the proposed improvement 
that the times of departure of the coaches bearing mails 
from places in the country should be so regulated as to 
insure their nearly simultaneous arrival in London at 
an early hour of the morning, and that the whole should 
quit the metropolis at the same hour in the evening. 
The first mail coach upon Mr. Palmer’s plan left Lon- 
don for Bristol on the evening of the 2nd of August, 
1784. 

As we have seen, the business of the London Post- 
office has grown up from very small beginnings. At 
first a house of moderate size was found to afford suffi- 
cient accommodation for carrying forward all its details, 
As the magnitude of these increased, additions were 


1834.] 


from time to time made to the bnildme, and adjommeg 
houses were adapted and occupied; but at length these 
expedients would no longer avail. The establishment 
outerew every possibility of sufficiently enlarging the 
premises; and it became absolutely necessary to ex- 
change the confined and incommodious apartments 
which had lone beet occupied in Lombard Street, for 
a buildine which, being expressly erected for the pur- 
pose, should afford conveniences and facilities unattain- 
able in the former office. Accordingly, in 1815, an Act 
of Parliament was passed, authorizing certain commis- 
sioners to make choice of aconvenient site, and to grant 
compensation to the parties whom it would be necessary 
to eject, in order to make room for the new building. 
A very considerable time was expended in this pre- 
liminary business of clearing and preparing the ground, 
so that the first stone was not laid until May, 1824; 
and it was only on the 23rd of September, 1829, full 
fourteen years after the passing of the Act of Parlia- 
ment just mentioned, that the new building was com- 
pleted and opened for’ the transaction of business. The 
situation chosen is exceedingly - convenient, being 
nearly. in the heart of the metropolis. ‘The building 
stands at the junction of. St. Martin’s-le-Grand with 
Newgate Street, and very near to St. Paul’s Cathe- 
dral. ‘The perspective view which we have given of 
the principal front, presents a faithful representation 
of its elevation. It will be seen that this front is com- 
posed of three porticos of the Tonic order of archi- 
tecture, one of four columns being placed at each 


end, and one of six columns forming’ the centre; this. 


Jast is surmounted by a pediment. On the frieze, over 
the columns of the centre’ portico, is the inscription 
GeorGio Quarto Rect, MDCCCXXIX. The great 
value of the ground and buildings in this populous part 
of the city has occasioned the area upon which the New 
Post-office is built to be of very limited extent. The 
street in which the principal part is placed, is tolerably 
wide; but the sides to the north and south, and the 
back front in Foster Lane, are all closely beset with 
houses. 

The building is about 389 feet long, 130 feet wide, 
and 64 feet high; itis built externally of Portland stone, 
and, with the exception of the principal front, is entirely 
plain, and without any attempt at architectural display. 
The entrances to the building are throngh the central 
portico in the west or principal side, and by a corre- 
sponding doorway in the east front in Foster Lane. 
The space between these two points is occupied by the 
Grand Public Hall, which is 80 feet long, by about 
60 feet wide, divided into a centre and two aisles, by 
two ranges of six columns, in the manner shown in 
the engraving at page 40; these columns, which have 
corresponding pilasters, are of the Jonic order, con- 
structed of Portland stone, and standing upon pedestals 
of granite. The centre of the hall is so much higher 
than the side aisles as to admit of the insertion’ of 
windows, also shown in the engraving, and by which 
it is principally lichted. 

Entering from the principal front, the offices on the 
right hand are appropriated to the Foreign-letter and 
Twopenny Post departments, the Receiver-general’s, 
the Accountant’s, and the Secretary’s apartments. On 
the opposite, or northern, side are the Inland, the Ship- 
letter, and the Newspaper offices. At the eastern, or 
Foster Lane, end of this aisle, is a staircase leading to 
the Letter-bill, Dead, Mis-sent, and Returned Letter 
offices. In the eastern front, north of the ceutre, is a 
vestibule where the letter-bags are received, and whence 
they are despatched from and to the mails. The Inland 
office communicates with this vestibule, and is 88 feet 
long, 56 feet wide, and 28 feet high. The Letter Car- 
riers’ office, which adjoins, is 103 feet lone, 35 wide, 


and 33 high, ‘The letters to and from the West Indies, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


37 


and the Continent of North America, have an office 
expressly appropriated to them, and which is likewise 
on this side of the building. ‘The Comptroller’s and 
Mail-coach offices are also in this quarter. ° 

It might occasion some confusion if the communica: 
tion between the offices in the northern and ‘southern 
divisions of the building were carried ‘on through 
the public hall. This disadvantage is obviated by 


‘means of a tunnel, which runs under the hall, in 


which the letters are conveyed between the depart- 
ments by the aid of ingeniously contrived machinery. 

The basement is vaulted, and consequently fire-proof. 
It contains the Armoury and Mail-Guards’ room, the 
Servants’ offices; and also an apparatus for warming 
the building by means of heated air, a patent gas- 
meter, and a governor for regulating the supply of 
gas to between 700 and 800 Argand burners dié- 
tributed through the offices and passages. ) 

The Board-room, which is 37 feet long’ and 24 feet 
broad, the Secretary s rooms and his clerks’ offices, are al] 
on the first floor, and communicate by long’ passages with 
the Solicitor’s offices, and some others of minor impor 
tance. The second .and third stories are occupied by 
sleeping apartments for the clerks of the foreign-letter 
office, who are obliged to be constantly upon the spot 
to receive the foreign mails, which arrive at all 
hours. | 

The building is altogether exceedingly well ar- 
ranged for the convenience of the public, as well as the 
officers employed in its various departments, and is 
creditable to the taste and judgement of the architect, 
Mr. Smirke. ‘a 

‘The London Post-office establishment comprises 
three principal departments, the Inland office, the 
Foreign office, and the Twopenny Post office. In con- 
nexion with the Inland office is the Ship-letter office, 
for receiving and despatching letters for the colonies 
and foreign parts by private trading vessels, the letters 
so conveyed being subjected to a less rate of postage 
than letters transmitted by packets in the pay of Go- 
vernment. Letters passing to and from the colonies 
come, likewise, within the management of the Inland 
office, in London; being received in the first instance 
at an out-post, generally Falmouth, whence they are 
forwarded by the local postmasters, im the same manner 
as inland letters. 

The routine business of the Inland office is neces- 
sarily divided among several departments. The prin- 
cipal of these, besides the Ship-letter office, are the 
Bye-letter, the Dead-letter, the Returned-Ictter, the 
Letter-bill, the Accountant-e@eneral’s, and the Neceiver- 
eeneral’s offices: the latter of these officers acts as a 
check upon the Postmaster-general, and consequently 
the appointment of the Receiver-eeneral rests not with. 
the Postmaster-weneral, but with the Lords of the 
Treasury. The Receiver-general holds his office by 
patent. 

Tt will perhaps exemplify sufficiently our description 
of the various functions of the different ofhcers em- 
ployed in the Post-office, if we describe the ordinary 
routine which is followed in the daily receipt and 
despatch of letters to and from London. 

In addition to the principal office in St. Martin’s-le- 
Grand, there are several branch offices and receiving 
houses in different parts of the town, where letters can 
be deposited by the public. These letters are col- 
lected by the letter-carriers at a stated period in the 
evening, which must of course be earlier than the hour 
to which the principal office is continued open; and 
they are conveyed in sealed bags—generally by carts— 
to St. Martin’s-le-Grand. ‘The seals of these bags are 
broken by persons appointed for the purpose ; and their 
contents are thrown out into great baskets, preparatory | 


| to their being sorted, 


38 

The first operation is that of stamping the letters: 
inis is performed at several large tables, four or more 
persons, according to the pressure of business for the 
night, being employed at each table. ‘This stamping 
is performed by messengers, or by the letter-carriers ; 
and, as they are stamped, one person is employed to 
ascertain the number of letters that pass through the 
office in the evening. 

When the letters are stamped, they are taken away 
to be assorted into about twenty divisions, on as many 
tables, corresponding with the lines of road by which 
they are to be sent. In this first sorting, all those 
letters are placed together which are intended for the 
sane line of road, the different heaps being dis- 
tinguished by numbers, as 1, 2, 8, &c.; and persons 
are employed continually in collecting together the 
corresponding heaps from all these tables in order to 
their being conveyed to other tables where other sorters 
are employed. A certain number of individuals are 
assioned to every road, and by them the letters are 
again assorted for the different places to which they 
are directed. By this division of the labour the work 
is much simplified. It would, indeed, be hardly possible 
to divide at one operation so great a number of letters, 
intended for so great a variety of places, as are brought 
together every evening in the London Post-ofiice. 

‘The next operation is that of placing the assorted 
letters in bags, previously to which, however, every 
letter is marked with the amount of postage to which it 
is liable; and an account is taken of the whole amount 
of postage, that the postmaster of the town to which 
they are going may be charged with the same. The 
bags are then sealed, and delivered into the custody of 
the mail-cuards. Each of these guards, of course, 
takes charge of the mail-bags for every post-town 
through which the mail-coach, with which he travels, 
is to pass; and, to avoid confusion, he places the whole 
number of bags in a laree sack, arranging them in the 
inverse order to that in which they are to be delivered. 
For instance, the Dover coach takes the mails for Wel- 
line, Dartford, Rochester, Sittingbourn, and Can- 
terbury, as well as for the place of its ultimate destina- 
tion. ‘The Dover bag is therefore placed in the bottom 
of the sack,—that for Canterbury next,—then the 
Sittingbourn bag, and so on; the one for Welling, 
which will soonest be wanted, being placed nearest to 
the mouth of the sack. The coaches which travel to 
oreater distances, and which’ pass through a great 
number of post towns, must carry several of these 
sacks, which are always unsealed, for the greater con- 
venience of taking out the bags on arrival at the dif- 
ferent towns. 

From the moment they are delivered into his custody, 
the guard is held responsible for the safety of the letter - 
bags. The box in the hind part of the coach, i which they 
are placed, is secured by a patent lock, the key of which 
is, of course, in the guard’s possession. On arriving at a 
ost-town, the bag intended for it is delivered into the 
custody of the postmaster, who, in his turn, commits to 
the guard any letters which may have been deposited in 
his office, directed to places through which the mail- 
will pass; and these additional bags are immediately 
Jocked up in the coach. ‘ 

The mode of proceeding with letters sent from the 
country to London is similar to what has just been 
described. ‘They are stamped and tarved,—that is, the 
amount of postage charged is marked upon them by 
the postmaster,—by whom they are then enclosed in 
sealed bags and given imto the eustody: of the 
ouard, 

The arrival of the mail coaches in London from almost 
all parts of the country takes place, as already mentioned, 
as nearly as possible at the same time. In the ordinary 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


{JANUARY SI, 


reach the Post-office within half an hour of each other, 
and between 5 and 6 o’clock in the morning. 

The bags are brought on their arrival by a messenger 
to certain junior clerks called Tick Clerks, who take an 
account of them to see whether all are received, and to 
make a note of any that may be missing, for the informa- 
tion of the superintending president. ‘Lhe bag’s of each 
mail coach, successively as they arrive, are then distri- 
buted amongst fourteen clerks, two of whom are 
stationed at each of seven tables. The first duty of 
these clerks is to see that each bag is properly secured ; 
each clerk then opens the several bags allotted to him. 
His next duty is to ascertain that the amount of the 
paid letters is correctly entered upon the bill which the 
postmaster transmits from the country in each hag, 
and to certify that he has done so by writing his initials 
upon the bill. Incase of error a second clerk is applied © 
to, to check the computation, and the true charge is 
entered in a book kept for the purpose. It is also the 
duty of the fourteen clerks to make transcripts in a 
book of the addresses of letters containing cash or 
trinkets, which the postmasters are instructed to enter 
upon their bills. 

While the openers have been thus engaged, the 
unpaid and free letters will have been undergoing the 
process of being stamped and subsequently examined, 
the former as to the rates of postage taxed upon them, 
and the latter as to the number of franks, - by different. 
persons stationed for each purpose at the respective 
tables. If any overcharge or undercharge be discovered, 
the correct rate of postage is substituted upon the letter, 
and an entry made of the amount of the corrections in 
a book kept for the purpose. 

The business of stamping unpaid letters is per- 
formed by sixteen messengers. ‘The paid letters, when, 
checked, as above mentioned, by the opening clerks, are 
given over to, be stamped and examined by two other 
clerks. 

Portions of the letters, as they have undergone the 
process of stamping and examination, are, from time to 
time, delivered to letter-carriers, who are employed in 
the assorting of them, which in the first place is 
effected into fourteen grand divisions; immediately 
after which the letters are taken by other letter-carriers, 
who sort them in divisions corresponding with the clis- 
tricts of actual delivery. In the progress of this sorting, 
the letters are sent in small parcels to the tellers, who 
cast up the amount of each parcel, and deliver a ticket 
of each charge to the check clerk. ‘These parcels are 
then deposited in boxes provided for each district, and 
subsequently retold by the letter-carrier, by whom they 
are to be accounted for; and he states the amount of 
his telling: to the check clerk, to see that it corresponds 
with the tellers’ tickets. ‘The carriers ther set out in 
order to deliver the letters; and in order to expedite 
this business as much as possible, a plan was first put. 
in operation when the New Post-office was opened. 
for business. ‘Those letter-carriers whose walks are at 
a considerable distance from the office, take their 
stations in carriages built -something in the form of an 
omnibus, and are conveyed as near as possible to the 
scene of their duties. ‘The postmen are packed in these 
carriages after the same principle adopted in placing 
the mail bagsin the sack; the man who has the greatest 
distance to go gets first into the carriage, while he who 
is to quit it the earliest gets in the last. By this con- 
trivance there is much less difference than formerly 
between the time of delivering letters at the near and 
the more distant parts of the town; while the greater 
convenience afforded by the enlarged space and well- 
considered arrangements of the new office have occa- 
sioned the sorting and other preliminaries to be gnt 
through in much less time than formerly. 


state of the roads the whole of these coaches usually; The rates of postage at present payable upon inland. 





1834,] 


letters in the United Kingdom, stated according to the 
distance they are conveyed, are these :— 
For any distance not exceeding 15 miles from the office 


where they are despatched . 4d. 
lor any distance above 15 miles and not exceeding 20 miles, & 
30 


é @ e e) @ 


” 20 a ° 6 

9 30 5, 30 Zz 

y 50 a “ 8 

x 80 i. 0 9 

;, 120 . 170 10 

59 170 98 2 230 : Il 
i 230 ye 300 12 
b. 300 “ 400 13 
400 . 500 14 


‘and so in proportion. ‘These rates are for single letters. 
Double and treble letters are charged respectively two 
aud three times the amount; and when a letter weighs 
One ounce it is charged four times the rate of postage 
to which a-single-letter is liable, All larger packets 
are charged in the same proportion, each addition of a 
quarter of an ounce in the weight rendering them hable 
to an additional single rate of postage. 

Until a recent period, the officers of the Post-office 
were authorized to consider as a double letter every 
single sheet of paper which, in addition to its epistolary 
contents, comprised an account, bill of lading, receipt, 
or any similar document; but by the act 7th and Sth 
Geo. IV. cap. 21, this grievance (for so it was felt by 
the trading part of the community) was remedied; and 
a single sheet of paper, no matter how occupied, is now 
charged only with a single rate of postage. 

In France, and many other parts of the Continent, 
a mode of charging postage is adopted different from 
that*pursued in tlis country, the amount being made, 
in every case, to depend upon the weight and not upon 
the number of pieces of paper contained in the letter. 
One consequence of this is to occasion the use of very 
thin paper. . 

Letters conveyed by packet-boats from England are 
liable to certain rates in addition to the charge for the 
distance they are conveyed by land: these additional 


rates are— 


Between Holyhead and Dublin. . .« 6 « « 3d. 
einOreeem Weterom. “ . « « &§ 2 
gee ort Patrick amd Donaghadee . .« . 4 
i Great Britain and the Isle of Man » 6 
% Great Gritain and Guernsey and Jersey 3 


The rates chargeable on single letters sent from 
London to foreign parts and to our Colonial possessions, 
are as follows :— 


. &. d. S$. a. 
To France. 1-2 |To Mediterranean 3 2 
Ttaly 1 11 Gibraltar 2 10 
Turkey 1 il Ditto, via France 2 2 
Ionian Islands 1 il Brazils 3.6 
Ditto, by packet 3 2 Buenos Ayres 3 6 
Spain Z @ Carthagena, Mexico, 
Germany . 3 Havana, LaGuayra, >3 0 
Switzerland. 1 8 and Honduras . 
Russia 1 @ Madeira and the ale 7 
Prussia . nary Islands 7 
Denmark » & Portugal » | 7G 
Sweden 1 8 Hayti we F 
Norway 1 8 America and the ho 9 
Holland 1 4 West India Islands 
Belgium 1 4 


The postage upon ail letters intended ‘for foreign coun- 
tries must be paid at the office where they are put in, 
otherwise the letters will be opened and returned to 
the writers. This rule does not apply to letters sent 
to British colonies, or to any places where a British 
postmaster is stationed. 


-THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


_ 


oo 


commander of the vessel in which the letters are sent, 
for his care and trouble in the conveyance. In these 
cases the letters are all put into sealed bags, and are 
consigned to postmasters, if to places where there is any 
Iinglish establishment of the kind, and to persons of 
known respectability where there are not such establish- 
ments. Very heavy penalties are imposed upon the 
commander of the vessel in case of his venturing to 
open a bag,—a circumstance which does not appear to 
have ever occurred. 

The total number of persons employed in the busi- 
ness of the Post-office in England, is stated, in the 
eighteenth Report of the Commissioners of Revenue 
Inquiry (made in March, 1829), to amount to 4,905, 
Of these, 3,059 persons were officially entrusted with 
the receipt and delivery of letters in England, and are 
exclusive of the persons employed in London, and of 
963 deputy postmasters in the country. 

Spiritual and temporal peers, and representatives of 
the commons in Parliament, are each entitled to frank 
daily ten letters, the weight of each of which does not 
exceed an ounce, and they are allowed to receive daily 
fifteen letters free of postage, with the same limitaton 
in regard to weight. 

All the great officers of state are likewise privileged 
to send and receive letters by the post free of charge, 
and for the most part without any limitation in regard 
either to the number of letters or their weight. Several 
other official persons are authorized to frank letters; but 
only on the business of their respective offices. Under 
certain limitations, all papers printed by order of either 
House of Parliament pass through the Post-office free 
of charge; and it is well known that the like privilege 
is extended to the transmission of stamped newspapers. 

‘here is not any regular account in existence, stating 
the Post-office revenue, earlier than 1724. In that year 
the net income of the institution was 96,339. Its pro- 
gress since, stated at intervals of five years, has been 
as follows, viz. 


£. £. 
1729 92 307 1784 196,513 
1734 91,701 1789 318,610 
1739 97,250 1794 463,003 
1744 85,114 1799 733,150 
1749 88, 323 1804 952,893 
1754 97 , 365 1809 1,213,049 
1759 86,095 1814 1,532,153 
1764 116,182 1819 1,528,538 
1769 164,760 1824 1,588,672 
1774 164,077 1829 1,509 ,347 
1779 139, 248 1832 1,457,132 


The Report of the Commissioners of Revenue In- 
quiry, already referred to, contains some curious par- 
ticulars. which furnish an idea of the extent of the 
communications carried on through the Post-office of 
the British metropolis. 

The total number of letters despatched by the mail 
coaches in three days of the month of May, 1828, distin 
guishing the letters which were put into the office in 
the City from those collected in the district west of 
Temple Bar, are stated to have been as follows :— 


West. Total. 
. 19,952 .. 16,436 .. 36,388. 
.. 15,880 .. 15,215 .. 31,095 
.. 15,961 .. 14,824 .. 30,785 
Daily Average ° 17,264 15,492 32,756 
The total number of letters reccived in London by 
the mail coaches on the same three days, distinguishing 
those destined for the City from those delivered west of 


vast. 
_ Monday, May 19 
Wednesday, — 21 
Friday, — 23 








Lhe Post-ofiice is empowered unaer various Acts of | Temple Bar, was as follows :— 


Parliament to make up bags of letters to be sent to 
places beyond seas at one half of the regular rate of 
postage. These bags are made up at the Ship-letter 
Office in London, and at all the ports of the kingdom. 


‘The sum of twopence upon each letter is given to the | 











Kast. West. Total. 

Monday, -May19 .. 20,257 .. 17,501 .. 87,758 
Wednesday, —- 2] .. 12,619 .. 10,951 .. 23,570 
Friday. — 23 ,. 13,203 .. 10,871 .. 24,074 
Daily Average 15,360 13,107 28,467 


40 


Tn order to found upon the foregoing statements a 
calculation as to the total number of letters passing 
through the London Post-office in the course of the 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. 


London 


Bristol @ 


year, it appears necessary to consider the three days Hull. 


civen as comprehending more than one half of the 
week, since the number of letters received and des- 
patched on Monday comprise a great number that 
would have passed on the Sunday had the office been 


open. 


Our space will not admit of inserting more of these 


details from the Report. 


with stating the amount of postages collected in a few 
of the principal trading cities and towns of the United 
Kingdom during the years 1831 and 1832 :— 





ys SG ARN 

H Pe Ade \ 
a et os Se 

My dine i 


oi te nD 
my 


iti weds ttl 


ee 


we ere a 


= es; ‘ 
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= ete ee red ocie= 
SO en = ree za 


oe ee 
ee aripeaaniaian = 


oe 


a LS 
Sapp cheered ae a at 
pm 


a — 


——<—<—<< =~. 
———e 


~4 re 


Ce) ee ek 


Leeds . 
Liverpool 


Sheffield 
Edinburgh 
Glasgow 
Dublin “, 
Cork @ 


We must content ourselves 


| future Number. 


| 


* me 
ee ET, 
| | 


rg 
Mh maa a 


= = eg —— 
SSSA UTR EE = PT TTT 


a 
——— 


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pe 


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Birmingham ° 


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_ 11,163 


aor ae 
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183}. 


“", 7 £628,644 


29, 864 
. «| Biazo 
: 15,030 
see 20; 9a 
70,974 
52,320 


me 42,621 
y 635,641 
10,769 


—— 
are 


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tet A! PL som —— 
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=. 


[January 31, 1834. 


1832. 
£637 , 178 
28,684 
33,887 
14,603 
20,315 
70,018 
53,449 
11,026 
42,758 
35,754 
80,610 
11,511 


We had intended to have given some particulars of 
the T'wopenny Post Branch, but must defer this to a 





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‘{ Hall of the New Post-Office.] 








.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 
\LONDON .—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
Printed by Wittram Crowes Duke Streets; Lambeta, 


THE PENNY 


OF 





THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


118.1] 


[Fspruary 1, 1834, 











Onr of the most voracious 


These birds are not onl y 
of carnivorous birds is the 


capable of digesting bones, 
























eigantic Crane, or, as it is SS as Spallanzani proved 
called in India, the Adjr- [= SSS y eagles and owls to be, but 


ee 
—— 





mm——aZera  arzad SSS 
TemMINCK); which dces => 
not, however, rank in sys- [=== 
tematic arrangements as a 
bird of prey. The struc- 
ture of the stomach in the 
adjutant corresponds with 
this similarity in habit, 
though the solvent glands 
are differently formed from 
those of any other bird. 
These e@lands are not 
placed round the upper 
portion of the stomach, but 
form two circular figures, 
about one inch and a half 
in diameter, on the fore and 
back part of it, each gland 


they seem to be fond of 
them, swallowing every 
bone which they can get 
down their gullet, whence 
they are denominated 
Bone-eaters. It has been 
stated bySirEverard Home 
that there was found in the 
craw and stomach of one 
of these birds a land tor- 
toise, ten inches long, and 
a large male black cat, en- 
tire. Mr. Smeathman, to 
whom we are indebted for 
several very interesting de- 
tails in natural history, 
has given an account of 
this bird, which we think 


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being composed of five or 
six cells, and these opening 
into one common pipe. 
The e@izzard and digastric 
muscle are nearly of the 
same strength with that 
of the craw, and the for- 
mer is lined with a similar 
horny cuticle. 


extended, may well be taken for canoes upon the sur- 
face of a smooth sea; when on the sand-banks, for men 
and women picking up shell-fish or other things on the 
beach. One of these, a young bird about five feet. high, 
was brought up tame, and presented to the chief of the 
Bananas, where-Mr. Smeathman lived; and being ac- 
customed to be ‘fed in the great hall, soon became 
familiar, duly attending that place at dinner-time, and 
placing itself behind its master’s chair frequently be- 
fore the guests entered. ‘The servants were obliged to 
watch narrowly, and to defend the provisions with 
switches; but, notwithstanding, it would frequently 
seize something or other, and once purloined a whole 
boiled fowl, which it swallowed in an instant. Its courage. 


, a 





will furnish a good illus- 
tration of our subject. 
The adjutants, he tells us, 
“are met with in com- 
panies; and when seen at 
a distance, near the mouths 
of rivers, coming towards 
an observer, which they 
often do with their wings 


at first it seems to stand ou its defence, by threatening, 
with its enormous bill widely extended, and roaring 
with a loud voice like a bear or tiger. It is an enemy 
to small quadrupeds, as well as birds and reptiles, and 
slyly destroys fowls or chickens, though it dares not 
attack’a hen openly with her young. Every thing is 
swallowed whole; and so accommodating is its throat, 
that not only an animal as big as a cat is gulped 
down, but a shin of beef broken asunder serves it but for 
two morsels. It is known to swallow a lee of mutton 
of five or six pounds, a hare, a small fox, &c. After a 
time the bones are rejected from the stomach, which 
seems to be voluntary, for it has been known that an 


ounce or two of emetic tartar given to one of these 


is not equal to its voracity, for a child of eight or ten’| birds produced no effect.”——From ‘ Faculties of Birds,’ 
years old soon puts it to flight with a switch, though | in Library of Entertaining Knowledge, just published. 





THE “ PLACE OF FIRE," AND NAPHTHA 
SPRINGS OF SHIRWAN. . 
Tue basin of the Caspian Sea is narrowed in the south 
by the peninsula of Apcheron, on whose southern coast 
stands the fortified town of Bakan, the port of which, 
though difficult of access, is considered the best and 
safest that sea affords. To this circumstance the town 


owes its present measure of importance, if not its first 


foundation. It belongs at present to the Russians, to 
whom it formed a very important acquisition; but it 
still retains the usual characteristics of a Persian town. 
About two miles to the north-east of the town, the 
wentle slope towards the sea of a low, rocky hill, the 
surface of which is composed of a sandy earth inter- 


mixed with stones, is distinguished as the ‘‘ Atashehah,” | 


Von. III. 


or “Place of Fire.” The phenomena in this spot ex- 
hibit in mild, and even useful forms, the elemental 
eruptions, which are generally violent and destructive. 

It is well known that a religious reverence was paid 
to fire by the ancient Persians; and this superstition is 
still retained by their descendants the Parsees, who now 
chiefly reside about Bombay in Hindostan, and at Yesd 
in Persia. These, and apparently some other natives 
of India, make long and weary pilgrimages to the 
‘‘ everlasting fire” of Shirwan, which they consider 
sacred, and where from thirty to forty of them may 
eenerally be found, subsisting chiefly on such roots as 
the neighbourhood produces. On their arrival they 
find several small and very ancient stone temples, or 


rather arched vaults, from ten to fifteen feet high. 
G 


42 


‘hese are enclosed by a low wall, and serve bath as the 
chapels and residences of ‘the deroiees, by whom, how- 
ever, the central structure, which is the largest, 1S 
peculiarly appropriated to relicious uses. This spot 
has not wnaptly been compar ed to a caravanseral ; and 
each of the apartments is: furnished with a fire, or, as 
Forster expresses it, “ a small volcano,” obtained by 
the ignition of the gas which issues from the ground, 
and which is conducted to some height above the sur- 
face through a tube or funnel inse rted ¢ a few inches into 
the ground. ‘The combustion is produced by the appli- 
cation of any burning substance to the extr emity of the 
tube, by stopping which it is easily extinguished. The 
flame in the central chapel is, however, “constantly burn- 
ng; and the worshippers are per suaded that it has always 
done so since the flood, and will do so to the end of the 
world ; and that if it were extinguished | in this spot it 
would immediately re-appear in another. The flame is 
not much unlike that of spirits of wine. It is of a clear 
pale colour, without smoke, but accompanied by a 
sulphureous vapour, which ereatly impedes the respt- 
ration unless the head is held below the surface of the 
flame. ‘It is for this reason probably‘ that ‘the funnels 
are employed to raise the flame about three feet above 
the ground. Whien the flame is extinguished, a hollow 
sound is heard on applying the ear to the aperture, 
and the rush of a cold current of air is very sensibly 
felt. Besides being an object of adoration, the fire 
serves the devotees for their simple culinary ‘processes, 
and enables them by its warmth to support the severity 
of the winter season in Shirwan. “Phe aur they imbibe 
has however an injurious effect on their’ health. “After 
a short residence they acquire < an emaciated ¢ appearance, 
and are oppressed by a hectic cough. 

This @as seems to operate most powerfully within 
the enclosure, a square of about thirty yards ; but it 
possesses considerable activity for nearly two miles 
around, and the flame is obseryed to be strongest in 
the’ most stony parts—in all which spaces, when the 
ground is turned’ up a little, or a perforation made, an 
air escapes which is easily kindled by the application of 
fire, and extends over any space of ground thus dis- 
turbed. It is hence employed to burn lime; and, in 
the houses, i iS used for light and fire, the eround being 
left unfloored or the purpose. When the flame ‘is 
wanted, one or more holes in the eround are opened, 
and a tinbe of cane, or even paper, is ‘inserted i in each, 
i unnels of materials so combustible are not injured by 
the flame, provided the edges be cased with clay. Lo 
bail water in a pot, three or four such tubes are usually 
employed. 

It appears that generally the application of foreign 
fire. to the current of air is necessary to produce com- 
bustion. But at some ‘distance from the temple, and 
almost equally venerated with the fire there, a natural 
clefi, about | SIX feet Jong and three wide, burns in- 
cessantly ; yan om which - it would” appear that in the 
larger evuporations o of the fluid spontaneous combustion 
takes place. . 

in other parts of the same province are found springs 
of black and white naphtha, from which a considerable 
revenue acerues to the government. The white naphtha 
is obtained in much smaller quantities than the black, 
aud is of thinner consistence, and an article of much 
superior value ; it floats thinly on the surface of certain 
springs or ponds, chiefly in the peninsula of Apcheron, 
and 18 collected and ° preserved in jars. ‘The Russians, 
Per: slans, and Hindoos, concur in entertaining a very 
hieh opinion of the cordial and medicinal vir tues of this 
substance. It is taken internally as a remedy for a 
considerable list of disorders, and is applied’ externally 
for-the cure of scorbutic and rheumatic pains. It also 
furnishes a very fine and durable japan, and is em- 
ployed to extract grease spots from silks and woollens, 

py - be f . . : 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Fenruary 1 


Lhe pilgrims from India are accustomed to take back 
with them sone of this substance as a valuable rarity, 
the imputed | virtues of which they like to attribute to 
the sacredness of the soil from which it is taken. ‘The 
black naphtha, or bitumen, 1s produced in the same 
manner, but ocnerally on large pieces of water, on 
which it floats as a scum, three or four inches thick, 
and of the consistence of tar. The spring's usually boil | 
up about two or three feet, but in thick weather they 
boil higher, and the naphtha then frequently overflows 
the basin, and sometimes, kindling on the surface of 
the earth, runs into thesea, where it spreads flaming’ to 
a great distance. As this substance is generally pro- 
duced without the limits of the Land of ¥ire, it has not 
obtained credit for such high virtues as ‘the white 
naphtha; but, in thie veneral uses of life, it is of far 
more impor tance. It is collected in ereat quantities, 
and forms to the people of Bakan a covering for the 
flat roofs of their houses, which is very durable, and 
impenetrable to the rain. ‘T'o the poer people in the 
neighbouring districts it supplies the place of oil for 
their lamps; and, as the country is but scantily fur- 
nished with wood, they use it, mingled with sand and 
ashes, for fuel. For such purposes it is preserved in 
Jars, which are kept underground, at scime distance 
from the house, in order to prevent the accidents which 
its susceptibility of ignition might occasion. 

~ [he reader will not be uninterested if we notice, in 
conclusion, some phenomena in this country, not alto- 
ether unlike those we have been describing, and which 
are taken from the $ Philosophical ' Transactions.’ At 
Broseley, in ‘Shropshire, and about thirty yards fiom 
the river Severn, a spring was found, in 1711, which 
burned with oreat violence, but was afterwards logt for 
several years. ‘The person to whom the land belonged, 
and whose 1 income had been increased by showing 7 o 
visiters, applied his utmost endeavours to recover it, 
but did not succeed until May, 1746, when a rumbling 
noise under ground, about thirty yards nearer to the 
river, and i in a lower situation, directed him to it. 

Tt was soon after this, that Mr. Mason saw the well, 
and describes it as six or seven feet wide, to four or 
five feet below the surface. At this point a hole of the 
same depth had been dug to receive an earthen cylinder, 
open at both ends, and four or five inches in diameter, 
around which the clay had been firmly rammed in. 
This pot contained a brown water, as thick as puddle, 
continually forced up with a violent motion, greater 
than that of boiling water, the alternate rise and fal] 
being about six inches, accompanied by a hollow, 
rumbling noise. There was no appearance of vapour, 
though Mr. Mason conjectured it might have been per- 
ceived but for the bright shining of the sun. <A candle 
was put down at the end of a stick, and combustion 
took place when it was held about eighteen inches from 
the water; the flames darted and ‘flashed in a very 
violent manner for about half a yard high, much im the 
way of spirits ina lamp, but with oreater agitation. 
The proprictor said that a tea-kettle had been made to 
boil over this flame in about nine minutes ; and that he 
had left it burning for forty-eight hours tog ether with- 
out any sensible diminution. It was extine uished by 
placing a wet mop upon it; and on its removal, a sul- . 
phureous smoke succeeded, and continued for about a 
minute. The water after the burning, and at all other 
times, was very cold to the touch. 

Concerning this well, a gentleman writes in 1761, 
that when he was on the ms eight years previously, the 
cylinder had been taken up, or otherwise destroyed ; 
and the well appeared only as a miry hole of ‘clay. 
Other waters had been suffered to mingle with those ot 
the burning spring ; but though the effect was by this 
means consider ably diminish ed, it was not wholly de- 
stroyed ; for upon the application | of a piece of ligt hied 


1834.] 


paper, a stream of clear flame shot up, which soon went 
out of itself. . 

A somewhat similar account of a well at Aucliff, near 
Wigan, in Lancashire, is given in the second volume 
of the Philosophical ive ansactions, In the year 1667,’ 
and m the * Penny Cyclopedia,” v vol. i i., with this re- 
markable addition, that when, for the sake of experi- 
ment, the water was diverted, ignition took place as 
before, on the application of flame to the earth, show- 
ive that the combustible principle in such cases is not 
i the water, but, as at the Atashghah, in the eas, 
eenerated within the earth, which escapes at those 


points, 





ENGLISH MANAGEMENT OF DRAUGHT HORSES. 


Tie Quarterly Revi iew;’ No. 100, contains a very interesting 
article on § The German Watering-places, Which article 
introduces to the notice of the English public an author, 
who, if we hiistake hin not, has been a great favourite with 
theni—we mean Sir Francis Head, the well-known writer 
of ‘Rough Notes, taken during some rapid, journeys across 
the Pampas, and amongst the Anides. The “japid jour- 
neys,’ which he, deseribed with, unusual spirit, were, made 
on horseback ; and {0 Jatise aly enturous {ray eller a ride of a 
thousand miles in eivht days was little inore than a gallop 
to Epsom or Ascot is to ordinary,men. Such an author is 
no mean authority on the subject of horses ; and we haye, 
therefore, much pleasure in widely, circulating an extract 
froin his. new book,.as. given in the ‘ Quarterly ‘Review, = 
the conviction that there, is mich to. Beygortected, in the 

; With regard to the miiifoment of horses in harness, 
perhaps the. most striking feature to English « eyes is, that 
the Geritians | intrust these sensible aniuials.with the free 
use of their eyes.’ ‘ As soon as, getting tired, or, as we are 
often apt to termif, ‘ lazy,’ they see thre postilion threaten 


them with. his whip, ‘they know perfectly well the limits of) 


his patience, and that after eight, ten, or tw elve threats, 
there will come a blow. As they trav el along, one eye is 
always shrewdly watching the driver: the moinent he begins 
his slow. Operation of lighting his pipe, they immediately 
slacken their pace, knowing, as well as Archimedes could 
have proved, that he cannot strike fire and them at the 
game time ; every movement in the carriage they, remark ; : 
and; to any accurate observer who meets a "Ger man. vehicle, 
it must often, be perfectly evident that the poor horses know 
iid feel, even better than himself, that they are drawing 
a coaehinin: three bulky baronesses, their man and their 
raid, and that to do this on a hot summer's day is no joke.” 
Now; what is our method? ‘‘In order to break in the 
wuuimal to draught, we puta collar round his neck, a crup- 
per under his tail, a pad on his back, a strap round his belly, 
with traces at his sides ; and, lest he should see that, though 
these things tickle and pinch, they have not power “to 
do more, Whe poor intelligent creature is blinded with 
blinkers, and in this fearful stmt of ignorance, with a groom 
or two at his head, and another at as side, he is, without 
ius knowledge, fixed to the pole and splinter bar of a car- 
riage. If he kicks, even at a fly, he suddenly receives a 
heavy punishment which he does not comprehend; some- 
thing has struck him and has hurt him severely ; but as 
fear jnagnifies all danger, so, for aught we know, or care, he 
may fancy that the splinter-bar which has cut him is some 
hostile animal, and expect, when the pole bumps against his 
legs, to be again assailed in that direction. Adinitting that 
in time he vets accustomed to these phenomena—becoming, 
what we ter m, steady in harness—still, to the last hour of 
his existence, he does not clearly understand what it is that 
is hampering him, or what is that rattiing noise which is 
always at his heels :—the sudden sting of the whip is a pain 
with which he gets but too well acquainted, yet the ‘unde 
derivatur’ of the sensation he cannot explain—he neither 
knows when it is coming nor what it comes from. If 
any trifling accident, or even irregularity occurs—-If any 
little harmless strap which ought to rest upon his back 
happens to fall to his side—the unfortunate animal, de- 
prived of his eyesielht, the natural lanterns of the mind, is 
instantly alarmed and though from constant heavy 
draught he may literally, Sout metaphor, be on his last 
legs, yet Wf lus blinkers should happen to fall off, the sight 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


43 


of his own dozing master, of his own pretty mistress, and of 
his own fine yellow charrot in motion, would scare him so 
dreadfully, that off he would probably start, and the more 
they all pursued him the faster would he fly! I am aware 
that many of my readers, especially those of the fairer sex, 
will feel disposed to exclaim, Why admire German horses ? 
Can there be any in creation better fed or warmer clothed 
than our own? In black and silver harness, are they not 
ornamented nearly as, highly as ourselves? Is there any 
ainusenient in town, which they do not attend? Do we not 
take them to the Italian Opera, to balls, plays, to hear 
Paganini, &e., and don’t they often go to two or three routs 
of a night? Are our horses ever. seen standing before 
vulgar shops? And do they not go to church « every Sun- 
day, as regularly as ourselves ? Most humbly do I admit 


the force of these obser vations ; all I persist in asserting 1s, 


that horses are foolishly fond of their eyesight; like to wear 
their heads as nature has placed them ; and have bad taste 
enough to_ prefer, dull German grooms anid coaclimen}; to 
our shar p English onés.” 


oy ~ - ¢- 


, BALBEC. 

Nixt in renown io Palmyra; aimone the ruitied cities 
of thie ancient world; is Balbec, situated in the same 
revion,, tlie extraordinary fate of which. has - beeil, to 
be first. the seat, of luxury , anid inagnificeyce. almost 
uinpar ‘alleled; and, then; as if the curse of Heaven had 
fallen upon | it; to be teduced to little better than j a de- 
solate w iIdernes’, It is man, howe ever} and not nature, 
that. has wrough the change; ; 10 blight has seared the 
soil or poisoned, | the. air, - iit a ‘degtadilig despotism has 
as effectually dried up the sources of social prospe- 
rity a : s if soine elementary convulsion had suddenly 
rine ihe cline of beauty cold atid dark} and stiuck 
ithe teeming earth with hopeless barrenness. Indeed, 
Turkish oppression has done what no unkindness of 
nature could have effected. ‘Lhe splendours of Pal- 
myra rose under the breath of a free coinmerce in the 
midst of a sandy desert ; but liothing has been able to 
preserve that and many, othet vteat citiés from crum- 
bling into heaps, of ruins at the deati-touch of the 
eloomy tyranny that now hates like a pall over the 
land. 

_ We are indebted for the most complete accoulit vf 
Balbec, as for that of Palniyra, to Mi. Wood aiid his 
friends, who, after visiting the iwo cities: wave to the 
public, in successive V olumes; most accurate aud splendid 
delineations of everything they had seen in each, ac- 
companied with historic notices and short descriptions. 
It was on their return, from Palmyra that they pro- 
ceeded to Balbec, which | lies almost on a line drawn 
from the former city due west to the sea. It is, how - 
ever, a little to the north of Palmyra. The spot in 
which it is placed is in one of the valleys of Mouiit 
Libanus, ,(the Lebanon of Scripture;) now called the 
Plain of Boeat, a fertile and well-watered opening to 
the sea, which forms its south-western extremity, while 
Balbee .stands iminediately under the high ground 
which closes it in the opposite direction. Its breadth, 
from Mount Libanus to Mount Anti-Libanus, varies 
from four to two leagues. 

Balbec. is situated, as nearly as possible, half way 
between Damascus to the south-east and the port of 
Tripoli, in Syma, to the north-west. When W ood was there 
in 1751, the place contained about 5000 inhabitants, 
among whoin were a few Jews and Christians; but 
later accounts describe its population as, oreatly re- 
duced. The collection of miserable huts which form 
the mcdern town, probably do not now harbour more 
than a thousand half-savage Arabs. 

Ancient writers, 10 veneral, are as silent respecting 
Balbec as respecting Paimyra. But it is no doubt the 
same city which Macrobius, in his Saturnalia, mentions 
under the name of Heliopolis of Ceelesyria, and to 


G 2 


44 Till; PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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which he tells us the worship of the sun-was brought, 


in very remote times, fromthe other city of the same 


name in Egypt. Heliopolis in Greek means the City 
of the Sun; and the signification of the Syriac term 
Balbec is the Vale of Bal, the oriental name for the 
same luminary,when worshipped as a god. It is pro- 


bable that Balbec was the ancient, as it is the modern, 


name of the place, although, from not having been 
mentioned, like Tadmor, the old name of Palmyra, in 
the Hebrew Scriptures, it has come down to us only in 
the form of the Greek translation, Heliopolis. 

The universal tradition of the country, Wood informs 
us, is that Balbec, as well as Palmyra, was built by 
Solomon. Many stories, it seems, are told by the inha- 
bitants of the manner in which the celebrated Jewish 
king spent his time in this retreat. Some critics have 
supposed that some building ‘at Balbec may possibly be 
that-spoken of in his writings‘as*“‘ the Tower of Le- 
banon: that looketh toward Damascus.” One of the 
stories current on the spot is that the city was built by 
him as a residence for the Queen of Sheba. It is be- 
lieved, of course, that in this, as in all his other similar 
undertakings, the wise monarch availed himself of the 
agency of genii or spirits. 

.,Yhe ruins of the ancient magnificence of Balbec do 
not present a crowd of fallen edifices, spread ‘over a 
large extent of space, like those of Palmyra: they 
consist only of three ‘distinct buildings, which stand 
not far from each other, ina plain at a short distance 
from ‘the inhabited part of the town. The cut which 
we have given, copied from a much larger engraving 
in Mr. Wood’s volume, presents a view of these build- 
ings, with’ some ‘others in the modern town, as seen 
from the south. To the left of the picture, or on the 
west, is .the immense’ structure commonly ‘called the 
Temple of the Sun, with its courts. More in the fore- 
ground is another smaller, but more entire temple; and 


at a considerable distance west from that, and still far- 
ther to the south, is a third temple, of a circular form, 
distinguishable by a modern spire, which has been 
erected over it, to convert ‘it into a Greek church. A 
Doric column, a Turkish mosque, and some other 
inodern erections, are seen interspersed. Surrounding 
the whole is the city wall, ten or twelve feet high, and 
defended at intervals by square towers. 

The entry to the great Temple of the Sun is from 
the east, through a noble portico of twelve circular 
columns; and the first apartment in which the visiter 
finds himself is a magnificent hexagonal (six-sided) 
hall, 180 feet in diameter, exhibiting on all sides the 
remains of an architectural beauty and magnificence of 
the richest character, in the columns and other orna- 
ments of a circle of chambers which run around it, 
Beyond this is a still larger court of nearly a square 
form, being 374 feet in one direction by 368.in another, 
and at the farther extremity of that is the far-stretching 
pillared structure forming the proper temple. As may 
be observed from the view, nine of the lofty columns 
which had composed this part of the edifice are still to 
be seem standing together. ‘There had been originally 
fifty-six’ in all, namely, ten at each end, and eighteen 
others along each of the sides. The entire leneth of 
the space which they include is 285 feet, and its breadth 
157. ‘The height, including the vlinth, is 87 feet. 
Nothing grander can be conceived than the aspect 
presented by this immense and richly ornamented 
temple, when seen in its full extent. No part of the 
structure is perhaps more wonderful than the terrace 
or soubassement by which the whole is surrounded, 
the stones composing which are in general 30 feet in 
length by 10 in breadth, and 13 in height. At the west 
end are three of the enormous length of 63 or 64 feet 
each. <A. freestone quarry still remains open, not far 
from the city wall, from which these colossal blocks 


1834.) 


appear to have been hewn, and where many of similar 
dimensions are to be seen cut from the rock, and left 
ready to be removed. From this and other circum- 
stances, Mr. Wood concludes that the soubassement of 
the temple was never finished.’ One of the stones lying 
in the quarry, which is not quite detached, is even larger 
than any of those in the temple, measuring 70 feet in 
length by 14 in breadth; and 144 in height. Its weight 
would be about 1135 tons. 

The other temple, to the south of this, is, as we have 
mentioned, of smaller dimensions, but is still a large 
building, being 222 feet in leneth by 1144 in breadth. 
Its columns have: been originally 34 in all, namely, 6 
in front, and 13 along each of the sides. Their height, 
including the plinth, is 76% feet; but the ground on 
which this temple stands is lower than the site of the 
other. The ornaments here are all likewise of the 
richest description. The Turks have built two great 
square towers on the ruins of the-portico of this temple ; 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Mau 


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—— = ns 


45 


but in other respects it is considerably less dilapidated 
than the former. In Wood’s time, nearly all the pillars 
composing the peristyle, together with their entablature, 
were entire. 

Our second woodcut is a view of the circular 
temple, a small building of exquisite beauty. The 
building itself, exclusive of the pillars by which it 
is surrounded, is only 32 feet in diameter; and the 
height is divided into two parts, in the lower of which 
the architecture is Ionic, and in the higher, Corinthian. 
The lower has been at one time converted into a Greek 
church. ‘The grace and lightness of the exterior of this 
edifice make it a perfect gem of art. 

The buildings of Balbec are for the most part of the 
Corinthian order. John of Antioch states that the 
oreat temple was built by the Roman emperor, Anto- 
ninus Pius, in the second century ; and other circum- 
stances would also lead to the conclusion that it is of 
this ave. , 





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[Circular Temple of Balbec.) 


46 


PROFESSIONS AND TRADES OF THE 
METROPOLIS. 

In the inquiries upon which the Population Returns 
for 1831 were founded, it was attempted to obtain an 
account of the multifarious divisions of the British 
people, according to their occupations. ‘This portion 
of the Returns has not yet been published. Of late 
years some very full Directories have appeared ; amongst 
others, ‘ Pigott’s Commercial Directory ? for the whole 
country, and ‘ Robson’s Commercial Directory y and Street 
Guide’ for the metropolis. It appeared to us_ that 
some approach to an accurate estimate of the propor- 
tions between one employment and another might be 
formed by analysing the lists in the latter work for 
1834, of the professional persons, merchants, manufac- 
turers, and shopkeepers of this great city; and from 
this source we have Obtained, by actual and careful 
counting, the results exhibited in’ the following table. 
As the lists were not at all framed for the purpose to 
which we have apphed them, the results exhibited in this 
table have not been obtained without much expense of 
time and labour. It should be mentioned that the 
list of tradesmen in the Directory does not profess to 
oive all the establishments ; small shops in very obscure 
streets are no doubt often omitted. It was sometimes 
desirable to bring under one head, details which, in the 
lists, are widely separated. ‘Vhus * Porkmen’ have been 
joined to ‘ Butchers’ and ‘ Meat Salesinen ;’ and ‘ Trish, 
Scotch, and Mancliester warehouses’ to ‘ ‘Linen- drapers,’ 
The ficures prefixed to the several items of the table 
refer to some obs servations, which it seemed desirable 
to subjoin. 


A Pa ~ bd eee 
Tas. o¢ Proressions AND TRADES. 


Accountauts © * Ww Is | | = 7107 
i Apents gy. he ee es ilo 
2, Architects and Surveyors , ‘joer BF. ZU 
3. ArtISty i 
4. Auctioneers and Appraisers eh: me 400 
Bakerp . * . © © Me. Oe eeico/ 
Daisies » . Sa. . so e . an 
Bookbigmers . ee See. RAS Ge 
>. BOOKsS@as) . Jae 5 St uae . emo 
Boot and Shog-makers , . . . . . 1490 
Brewers (86 Retail, 22 Porter). 2. . . © 220 
0. See eee ee . 1399 
7. Bonldews Buitklages ee | . | F bus 
Butchers and Meat Salesmén . ela) 
Seuctuelgicrs . . a ca 552 
Cameurcrs Bae, a. Bee lo 
Carvers and Gilders _« £& Be . eee co. 
8. Cheesemouers. ———: . a . ae 940 
Chemists and Dru vy ists —- See (il, 
China, Glass, and Staffordshire Dealers. 320 
2. Coath Makers “Beg Go: _. J 
Coal Merchants (602), Dealers (1. 10), and 
Factors (1 ly mos ... Ihe cas 
Capers . . ee oy 4 
Curiosity (42) and Pimture (49) pet : 3 
Cutlers (163) and Hardwaremen GOs . 223 
ietymen =. - 218 
Meitiss . . . Lae “aa 120 
DiSUetSo « a a OL : o/ 
Ss aa oe. co. ewe 
iUmeemrineers “%" . Mp. . ae? 
Ibs Engravers . . . . gee ld 
Factors . . . 1 8, es 
Fishmonyers (235) and Faciors (30) en 208 
Florists (32), and Nursery and Seedsmen . 9} 
Founders (Brass 138, Iron 55, Type 12, 
Steraotyp: oe. . 5 ie tae | 
Goldsmiths (7"5y. MMe. «©. . LUZ 
TZ, Grocers. eee se NOs 


8 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Feprvary 1, 


Gun and Pistol Makers ae | 8 
Huberdashers Ye ae! 
Hair-dressers and Perfumers i: . . . 3 D1 
Watters. .° . 6 "= is 417 
SOSUr ee ee 249 
Ironmongers (153 Wholesale) . a. 478 
13. Jewellers eee hs 347 
14. Tawaaeen Wictun les . ew ee 
1d. inen Drapes. .8 a & ae 2595 
Livery Stable Keepers and Horse Deller - oH 
Matheuiatical, Optical (68), and Plnlo- 
sophical Instrument Makers... = 143 
16. Meréhants sae. —'.f & Aa 
Milliners and Dress Makes | 2 ae ie Da 
Music Seilers, (Publishers 9) . 6 0... 89 
Musical Instrument (109 Piano-forte, 25 
Organ) Makers . 7% Sago 
News-venders » « « « 1 Tie Vie pees 27 
17, Oilemen . . oe) CALS 
Paper-Stamers ma reared - « « « 146 
Pastry Cooks and Confectioners . . . 282 
Patcentees (exclusive of Medicines)... vd 
Pawnbrokers . sane rapa 
Physicians 
18, Plumbers, Painters, and CAivittts je oe «= 
Poulterers aie or |) lke - 103 
19. Printers 5 7 25 pees 
suddlerS  . 7 5 a es we 
20. Sculptors —L——E———— le AQ 
Ship (26), and Barge and Boat Builders. 60 
21. Silk Mireers, 2c. @ 5 ee Me ei) 
Silversiniths . Soames os 0, a nie 
Siths .. . . es cern 238 
22. Solicitors and Attorneys. 6 6 6 6 0.) 1981 
stay aud Corset Mal CES. a 194 
Straw and Chip ifat Makers . . 2 2 283 
23. Stationers . © « Se, ce 
Smyrcons 3... nn eG 
Tilos | . | (2 Se eee 
Tobacconists . ». « , an, . 662 
Undertakers > g*eliwcns Sr.) 65) eS 
24, Watch and Clock,Makers . . + . . 670 
Wax and Tallow Chan: 7s a oe, 120 
Woollen Dray ers (21 9), Manufactarers (14), = 
aa arelietge nen (66) . ——. 299 


i9] are Geier al and Comthierci au, 72 Extate and 


H otise; 30 Fast India; and 12 Forcien Agents: 

2, 76 are Surveyors only. | 

3. $4 of this itumber are of considerable distinction, 
viz., 22 as Historical and Character Painters; 20 Por- 
trait; 2L Landscape ; 13 Minlature; 4 as Painters of 
Aniinals : : and 3 in Enamel. 

4, 87 are Appraisers only ; 
‘i 37 Surveyors. 

This emimeration does ‘not include 224 retail 
Hockieltelé: who are Stationers also. 97 are Publisliers, 
of. whom L5 supply the town and country trade gene- 
rally ; 6 confine themselves chiefly to their own publica- 
tions, and the renrainder are retail Booksellers and 
Publishers. 56 Booksellers sell chiefly modern pub- 
lications; and 72 deal in second-hand beoks: 27 have 
Circulating Libraridl and, 12 Keadine Rooms. The 
Foreigu Booksellers are 21; Reliciotis, 1G; Law; 15: 
Juvenile 7; Medical, 0; Scieiitific and Agric ultural, 
8 ; Theatrical, 2 2s Military; 2 7 

6. 322 are Stock; 37,, Bill; 97, Insurance ; 172, 
Ship and Insurance ; “and 422, Furniture, Brokers. 

7. 510 are Builders, of whom 150 are also Carpeiters, 
aud 76 Bricklayers. ‘There are 376 other Bricklayers, 
of whom 152 are also Plasterers, and 5 Slaters. 55 
who are exclusively Plasterers, aud 27 Slaters, are also 
colnprehended, 


14 ave also Upholsterers. 


18344 


8. 23 are Wholesale. There are, besides, 398 Grocers 
who are also Cheeseirloigers 

9. ‘There are besides 108. manufacturers of parts of 
coaches. 

10. Of this number 19 are Civil Engineers : 
also Machinists, and 14 MUL: -wrights. : 

11. 6 are Historical; 15, Wood; and 53,Seal En- 
oravers. 156 are also Prine and 24 Enamellers. 

12. 59 are Wholesale ; 398 are also Cheesemongers, 
and 1323 Tea-dealers: but there are besides 84 shah 
sale Tea-dealers, 83 dealers in Tea and Coffee only, 
and 22 dealers in Coffee only, who are not compre- 
nended in the amount. 

13. Most of the Goldsmiths, 39 ee te and 12 
Watchmakers, are also Jewellers. 8 wholesale, and 94 
working, Jewellers are included i in the enumeration. 

14. "lin is curious to remark the uniformity of Londou 
signs. There are, for instance, King's Arms, 90; King’ S 
Heads, 73; Red Lions, 74 ; Crowns, 70 ; ; Grapes, 62; 
Coach ead Horses, 60 ; Ships, 493 White Horses, ‘1; 
de. 

15. 3 are Manufacturers ; 16, Wholesale Dealers ; 
79, Manchester, Scotch, or Irish ‘Warehouses ; 78 Avs 
also Winlia ‘dashers. 

16. 1200 are General Merchants ; * fie 36, 
Russia ; 7, Turkey ; a ‘East India ; 35, West India ; 
602, Shalt 459, ‘Wine ; 404, Wine and Spirits ; “930, 
‘Timber. 

17. 515 are also Colourmen; 86, Grocers ; 
ltalian Warehonsemen ; and 35, allow Chandlers. 

18. 157 are Painters. and Glaziers only. The amount 
1s. ale of 97 Painters and Decorators, od Painters 
and Grainers, 10 Herald, aud 6 Sign Penton. 

19. 50 are Copper-plate ; 42 Lithographic; 8 3, Music ; 
and 3, Silk Printers. 33 are Stationers also. 

20. About 18 of the number are much distinguished. 
There are also 5 makers of. ficures in Plaste r of Paris, 
and 2 in Wax. 

21. 39 are Manufacturers: 60 are also Linendrapers, 
ond Rit Haberdashers. 
. Phere are besides 82 Proctors, 28 Notaries 
*..4 and 110 Conveyancers. 

23. 324 are also Booksellers, and | 
14 are Law, and 35 Fancy Stationers. 

24. 43 are Chronometer-makers, and Zeagte exch 
sively Clock-makers. ‘There are besides 159 who mann- 
facture the different parts of watches, and are not 
inclnded. 


9 are 


62, 


2a PBookbinders. 


CASPAR FLAUSER, 


Many writers on the intellectual nature of man have 
aitempted to supply a chapter for which human ex- 
perience afforded no materials, by comeaiunins what 
would be the condition of a being secluded, from 
infancy to youth, from all knowledge . the external 
world, and from all intercourse with his species, and, 
therefore, destitnte of the common experience, tlie < appe- 
tites, and the acquirements, which result from the cir- 
cumstances in which a human being is usually placed. 
The probable character of his feelings and perceptions, 
on viewing the glories of nature which he had never 
witnessed, “and his sensations amidst the business and 
forms of life of which he had no previous notion, afforded 
matter for very interesting speculation. ‘The state of 
man, excluded from social intercourse and education, 
is perhaps partially exhibited in such histories as those 
of Peter the Wild Boy; but the subject, as a whole, 
is now redeemed from speculation by the history of 
Caspar Hauser. ‘This history is not only of surpassing 
ilterest in itself, but, in the point of view we have 
stated, is of such importance, that the information it 
affords must always hereafter occupy that place in the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


47 
An exceeding curious account of this remarkable being 
has been translated from the German of Anselm von 
Feuerbach, and to this we are indebted for the infor- 
mation which we purpose to lay before-our readeis ; 
referring those who desire further information to the 
work itself for many interesting details which our limits 
will not include. 

On Whit Monday, the 26th May, 1828, a citizen of 
Nuremberg, in Bavaria, was proceeding from his house 
to take a male when, happening to look around him, 
he perceived at a little distance a youne man in the 
dress of a peasant, who was standing in a very singular 
posture, and, like, an intoxicated person, was endea- 
vourmg to move forward, without being able either to 
stand upright or to govern the movement of his lees, 
On the approach of the citizen the stranger held out to 
him a letter directed to a military Officer living in Nu- 
remberg. As the house of this person layin the di- 
rection of the citizen’s walk, he took the youth thither 
with him. When the servant opened the door, the 
stranger advanced with the letter in his hand, with the 
following words :—“ Ae sechtene micht ih val, wie 
mei Votta wihin is.” ‘The various questions of the’ 
servant,—as, what he wanted? who he was? whence lie’ 
came ?—he appeared not to understand, aud ‘answered’ 
qed by a repetition of the same words. He seemed so 
much fatigued that he could scarcely be said’ to walk, but 
only to stag ver; and he pointed to his feet with (ears, 
and a countenance expressive of much pain. As he 
appeared to be also suffering from hunger and thirst, a 
small piece of meat was handed to him; but scarcely 
had the first morsel touched his lips when he : shuddered, 
the muscles of his face were seized with convulsive 
spasms, and he spat it out with great abhorrence. LHe 
mantiested the same aversion after he had tasted a few 
drops of a glass of beer which was brought to him. 
But he swallowed with greediness and satisfaction a bit 
of bread and a glass of. pure water. In the meantime 

all attempts to. gall any information concerning his 
person or his arrival were entirely fruitless. He seemed 
to hear without understanding, to see without per. 
ceiving, and to move his feet without knowing how to 
use them for the purpose of walking. His language 
consisted mostly of tears, moans, and unintelligible 
sounds, mingled with the words which he frequently 
repeated, — — «Renta wahn, wie mei Votta wihn is *.” 
He was hence soon regarded as a kind of savawe; and, 

in expectation of the captain’ s return, was conducted to 
the stable, where he immediately stretched himself on 
the straw, and fell into a profound sleep. Whien the cap- 
tain came home, several hours after, the boy was with 
immense difficulty awakened. He then revarded the 
bright colours of the officer’s uniform with childish 

satisfaction, and began to repeat his “ Reuta,” &c. 

to which, and his few other articulate expressions, he 
attached, as was afterwards discovered, no particular 
meaning. They were only sounds which had been 
taught him like a parrot, and which he uttered as the 
common expression of all his ideas, sensations, and 
desires. 

The letter addressed to the captain afforded no dis- 
tinct information concerning this singular being. It 
stated that the writer was a poor day-labourer with a 
family of ten children. The bearer had been left in his 
house the 7th October, 1812, and he had never since 
been suffered to leave it. A Christian education had 
heen given to him, and he had been taught to read and 
write; and as he wished to become a trooper, and the 
writer found it difficult to maintain him longer, he had 
brought him to Nuremberg and consigned him to the 
captain’s protection. ‘This letter, manifestly designed 
to mislead, was written in German, and concluded with. 


*« This jargon seems to imply, “Twill bea + rider (a trooper) ag 


history of man which conjecture has hitherto supplied, } my father was ” 


48 


this heartless expression,—‘‘ If you do not keep him, 
you may get rid of him, or let him be scrambled for.” 
In a Latin postscript, evidently by the same hand, 
though the writer professes to be a poor girl, it is stated 
that the Jad was born April 30, 1812; that he had been 
baptized; that the application was for his education 
until he became seventeen years old, and that he should 
then be sent to the 6th Chevawyz-leger regiment, to 
which his father, then dead, had belonged. 

Under all the circumstances, the captain thought it 
best to consign the stranger, and to leave the solution 
of the riddle, to the city police. On his arrival at the 
onard-house, the usual official questions were put to 
him, to which and all other inquiries he gave no other 
reply than with his usual unmeaning “ Reuta,” &c. 
He exhibited neither fear, astonishment, nor confusion ; 
but rather showed an almost brutish dulness, which 
either leaves external objects entirely unnoticed,’ or 
stares at them without thought. But he was continu- 
ally pointing, with tears and whimpering, to his feet, 
which, with his awkward and childish demeanour, soon 
excited the compassion of all who were present; for, 
having the appearance of a young man, his whole con- 
duct was that of a child scarcely two or three vears old. 
The police were.divided in opinion whether to consider 
him as an idiot or as a kind of savage; and one or two 
expressed a doubt whether under this appearance some 
cunning deceiver might not be concealed. Some one 
thought of trying whether he could write, and placed 
materials before him, with an intimation that he should 
do so. This appeared to give him pleasure; he took 
the pen, by tio means awkwardly, between his fingers, 
and wrote in legible characters the name ‘“ Kasper 
Hauser.” ‘This circumstance strengthened the im- 
pression of his being an impostor, and he was, for the 
present, consiened. to a tower used for the confinement 
of rogues and va@abonds, in the short walk to which he 
sank down, groaning at almost every step. 

The structure of Caspar Hanser’s body, which was 
stout and broad-shonldered, showed perfect symmetry, 
without any visible defect. His face was, on his first 
appearance at Nuremberg, very vulgar; when in a state 
of tranquillity, it was almost without expression; and 
its lower features being somewhat promment, gave 
him a brutish appearance. But the formation of his 
face altered in a few months almost entirely ; his counte- 
nance gained expression and animation, the lower part 
of his face became gradually less prominent, and his 
earlier physiognomy could scarcely be longer recognised. 
His feet, which have no marks of having been ever be- 
fore confined by a shoe, were beautifully formed, and 
the soles were as soft as the palms of his hands. His 
ewait was, properly speaking, not a walk, but rather a 
waddline, tottering, groping of the way—a painful me- 
dium between the motion of falling, and the endeavour 
to stand upright. The smallest impediment in his way 
caused him often, in his chamber, to fall flat on the 
floor; and for a long time after his arrival he could 
not eo up or down statrs without assistance. He 
scarcely knew at all how to use his hands and fingers. 
Where others applied but a few fingers, he used his 
whole hand in the most awkward manner imaginable. 

In a very short time Caspar Hauser ceased to be re- 
earded either as an idiot or an impostor; and the 
mildness, good-nature, and obedience which he exhi- 
bited, precluded the idea that he had grown up among 
the beasts of the forests. Yet he was so utterly desti- 
tute of words and conceptions, so unacquainted with the 
common objects and daily occurrences of nature; and he 
showed such an indifference and abhorrence to all the 
usual customs, conveniences, and necessaries of life ; 
and evineed such extraordinary peculiarities in his 
mental, moral, and physical existence, that it only re- 


mained to conjecture that he had been kept in a state | 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE, [Fenruary 1], 1834. 


of utter seclusion and imprisonment during the former 
portion of his existence ; and now appeared a monstrous 
being, ouly beginning to live in the middle of his life, 
and who must always remam a man without childhood 
or boyhood. 

Caspar then became an object of great curiosity and 
interest, and was visited by hundreds of persons. During 
the night he lay upon his straw bed; and in the day 
he sat upon the floor with his legs stretched out before 
him. He could be persuaded to take no other food 
than bread and water. Even the smell of most of the 
common articles of food was sufficient to make hin 
shudder, or still more disagreeably to affect him; and 
the least drop of wine or coffee, mixed clandestineiy 
with his water, occasioned him cold sweats, or caused 
him to be seized with vomiting or violent head-ache. 
When he saw for the first time a lighted candle placed 
before him, he was delighted with the shining flame, 
and unsuspectingly put his fingers into it; but he 
quickly drew them back, crying out and weeping’, 
Feiened cuts and thrusts were made at him with a 
naked sabre, in order to try what might be their effect 
npon him; but he remained immoveable without even 
winking, or without appearing in the least to suspect 
that any harm could thus be done to him. Whena 
looking-elass was once held before him, he caught at 
nis own reflected image, and then looked ‘behind to find 
the person whom he supposed. to be concealed ‘there. 
Like a little child, he endeavoured to lay hold of every 
littering object that he saw; and he cried when he 
could not reach it or was forbidden to touch it. -He 
was in possession of only two words for the purpose of 
designating living creatures. ‘Whatever appeared to 
him in a human form he called, without any distinction 
of sex or age, “* bua;” and to every animal-that he 
met with, whether quadruped or biped, doe, cat, 
eoose or fowl, he gave the name of ‘“ ross,” (horse). 
This word, indeed, appeared to fill by far ‘the greatest 
space in his vocabulary, which contained scarcely half 
a dozen words. He often repeated the word with tears, 
and in a plaintive, beseeching tone of voice; and when- ~ 
ever any trifle, a riband, a coin, or a little picture, was 
given to him, he cried * Ross! ross!” and expressed by 
his looks and motions a desire to hang all these pretty 
things upon a horse. ~ This suggested to a police soldier 
the idea of giving him a wooden horse for a plaything. 
The possession of this toy seemed to effect a great 
alteration in Caspar. He lost his insensibility, his in 
difference, and his dejection, and conducted himself as 
if he had found an old and lone-desired friend. From 
that time he had ample employment in decorating, 
caressing, feeding, and draggimg his horse to and fro 
by his side, without changing his usual position on the 
floor. He never ate his bread without first holding 
every morsel of it to the mouth of some one of his 
horses, — for more were given him,—nor did he ever drink 


| water without first dipping their mouths in it, which 


he afterwards carefully wiped off. When the keeper 
endeavoured to make him understand that his wooden 
horses could not eat, he thought he had sufficiently 
refuted him by pointing to the crumbs that stuck in their 
mouths. From this and many other instances it 
manifestly appeared that ideas of things animate or 
inanimate, organic or unorganized, or of what is pro- 
duced by nature or formed by art, were all strangely 
mingled together in the mind of this poor victim of an 


extraordinary cruelty. 
(To Le continued in the next Number. ] 





In some of the copies of No. 117 (Supplement), the paragraph in p, 335, 
beginning “ Humboldt informs us.” was transposed, It should be inserted after 
the first two lines of the second column of p, 34. 





- * 


e* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 


59, Lineoln’s-Inu Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
Printed by Writram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, ° 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[Fepruary 8, 1834. 








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[ Chlamyphorus Truncatus. | 


Tue Chlamyphorus Truncatus, or Pechichiago, is a 
little animal belonging to the order edentata—an order 
which includes mammalia destitute of incisor teeth, and 
sometimes of teeth altogether. The first detailed ac- 
count we -have of the chlamyphorus is given by Dr. 
Harlan, professor of. comparative anatomy to the 
Philadelphia Museum ; who, however, had only the 
opportunity of examining an imperfect specimen. 

The animal is a native of Chili, where, like a mole, 
it burrows in the rich soil of the valleys, living for the 
most part underground, in quiet seclusion. Concealed 
in its subterranean retreats, it is rerarded by the natives 
as a curiosity ; and, indeed, independent of its being hid- 
den from observation, as it seldom visits the surface, at 
least during the light of day, it appears to be extremely 
rare. Its food, so far as we are assured by its dentition 
and the imperfect accounts received respecting its habits, 
is insectivorous, and doubtless consists of such as like 
itself inhabiting the soil beneath the surface, become 
the objects of its pursuit without calling it from its 
obscurity. Night is most probably the season of its 
activity, and of its unfrequent visits to the ‘* upper 
world,” 

Few animals with which we are acquainted are better 
qualified for a subterranean mode of life, or better 


furnished with the means of “ progressing” through 
the soil, or forming galleries and chambers. ‘The top. 


of the head, and the whole of the upper surface of 
the body, are covered with a thin shell of a consistence 
between horn and leather, divided, by-intersecting fur 


Vou. LI. 


rows, into a series of bands or strips, each strip being 
itself made up of fifteen or twenty plates of a square 
form, except on the head, which is covered with a single 
plate:composed of a -mosaic-work of rounded and irre+ 
gular portions. This horny covering or shield is not 
fixed by the whole of its inferior surface to the integu- 
ments beneath, as is the case with the armadillo, but 
merely rests on the back, free throughout, “ excepting 
along the spine of the back and top of the head; being 
attached to the back, immediately above the spine, by 
a loose cuticular production, and by two remarkable 
bony processes on the top of the os frontis (bone of 
forehead), by means of two large plates which are 
nearly incorporated with the bone beneath; but for 
this attachment, and the tail being firmly curved be- 
neath the belly, the covering would be very easily 
detached.” ‘The extremity of the tail is formed like a 
paddle. ‘*The whole surface of the body is covered 
with fine silk-like hair, (of a delicate straw colour,) 
longer and finer than that of the mole, but not so 
thick, ‘The anterior of the chest is large, full, and 
strong; the antenor extremities short, clumsy, and 
powerful.” The hand, which is amazingly thick and 
compact, is furnished with five powerful but compressed 
nails, which, arranged together in their natural situa- 
tion, constitute one of the most efficient scrapers or 
shovels which can be possibly imagined ; and expressly 
adapted for progression under ground, but in an equal 
ratio ill-fitted for celerity on the surface. ‘The hind 
legs are comparatively weak, the feet being long and 


H 


50 


somewhat resembling the human; the toes are fur- 
nished with small flattened nails. Sight is but a second- 
rate sense, as it regards its Importance in the economy 
of an animal living in darkness beneath the ground ; 
—the organs of vision, therefore, are almost as little 
developed as in the mole, being very minute, and 
buried in the long silky fur; by which the circular ori- 
fices of the ears are also equally concealed. ‘The head 
is almost conical in its figure, going off from a broad 
base to a pointed snout, furnished with an enlarged 
cartilawe; as in the hog, and doubtless for the same 
purpose, of grubbing and burrowing for food. In ac- 
cordance with the details of external configuration the 
skeleton is equally indicative of the creature’s habits. 
The skull is firm, and prevented from being’ pressed 
upon by the shield, which rests on two solid projections, 
as seen in the annexed sketch. ‘The bones of the fore 
limbs are thick, short, and angular; the scapule broad 
and strong; the ribs thick, and capable of resisting 
great pressure. The hip-bones are of singular construc- 
tion, and admirably formed for protecting the in- 
ternal organs from injury. Such is an outline of the 
structure and habits of the chlamyphorus, an animal 
which, though bearing in some points a close analogy 
both to the mole and the armadillo, yet possesses cha- 
racters so exclusively its own, as to render it one of the 
most interesting and remarkable of modern discoveries 
in zoology. Of this rare animal two specimens alone 
exist, one in the Museum of Philadelphia, the other, 
whose skeleton is perfect, in the Museum of the Zoo 

logical Society of London. 


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[Skull of Chlamyphorus, two-thirds of tne natural size, 


CASPAR HAUSER.—No. II. 
[Continued from No. 118.] 


As soon as it was discovered that Caspar Hauser was 
no other than a grown infant, who had yet to learn to 
speak, act, and observe, he was removed to that part of 
the prison tower in which the keeper and his family 
resided. In this situation his education began, and his 
first tutor was the gaoler’s son, a little boy who was 
eleven years old. He became greatly attached to 
Caspar; and the natural pride of superior knowledge 
inade it a delightful task to him to teach a robust 
youth, so much his senior, how to speak. The burgo- 
master of Nuremburg and Professor Daumer soon 
interested themselves in Caspar’s education. ‘To the 
house of the burgomaster he was taken almost daily for 
the purpose of instruction, and he was finally consigned 
altogether to the care of the professor. This change 
was chiefly effected by the representations of the writer of 
the work from which our acconnt is taken, who visited 
Caspar about a month after he was first found, and 
who became convinced that he would either die of a 
nervous fever or be visited with some attack of insanity 
or idiocy if some change were not made in his situation: 
for it was manifest that the unaccustomed impressions 
of light and the free air,—the strange and often painful 
mingling of various images which continually flowed 
in upon his senses,—the effort to which his mind 
was incessantly stimulated by the thirst for knowledge, 


labouring, as it were, to fasten upon, devour, and. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Fesruary 8, 


absorb into itself whatsoever was new to him (and 
all things were new): all this was more than his feeble 
body, and delicate, yet constantly excited, nerves could 
bear. Such was the irritability of his frame that what- 
ever forcibly stimulated his curiosity, attracted his atten- 
tion, or which he made a strong effort to comprehend, 
affected him with convulsive spasms, by which his face 
was distorted, and his whole body affected, particularly 
his arm and hand. 

When the writer saw him, his playthings had ceased 
to occupy much of his attention during the day. It 
was merely his evening occupation to pack them away, 
and his morning employment to arrange all his toys in 
a certain order upon a bench, and to stick to the walls 
with his saliva, which was as tough as glue, sheets of 
coloured pictures, as high as he could reach. Then 
and afterwards, a most surprising and inexplicable 
property of this young man was his love of order and 
cleanliness, which he even carried to the extreme of 
pedantry. Of the many hundreds of trifles of which 
his little household consisted, each had its appropriate 
place, was properly packed, carefully folded, and 
systematically arranged. Uncleanliness, or what he 
considered such, whether in himself or others, was an 
abomination to him. 

When visited by strangers, he showed nothing like 
shyness or timidity: he met them with confidence, and 
seemed to rejoice in their visits. ‘Those whose dresses 
exhibited the most vivid colours or glittering ornaments 
obtained his first attention. When a person was 
introduced to him by his name and title, Caspar was 
accustomed to go up close to him; regarded him with 
a sharp, staring look; noticed every particular fea- 
ture of his face successively with a penetrating, rapid 
glance; and at the last, collected all the different parts 
of the countenance, which at first he had gathered sepa 
rately, and piece by piece, into one whole. He con 
cluded this ceremony with repeating the name of the 
person exactly as it had been mentioned to him; and 
now he knew that person, and as experience afterwards 
proved, he knew him for ever. 

It is highly interesting to trace the phenomena 
which were exhibited when the physical senses ot 
this young man began gradually to awake from their 
long torpor to the perception of external objects. It 
was not before the lapse of several days that he began 
to notice the striking of the steeple clock, and the 
ringing of the bells. This threw him into the greatest 
astonishment, which at first was expressed only by 
his listening looks, and by, the spasmodic motions of 
his countenance, succeeded by a stare of benumbed 
meditation. Some weeks afterwards a nuptial proces 
sion passed under his windows with a band of music. 
He suddenly stood listening, motionless as a statue; 
his ears and eyes seemed continually to follow the 
movements of the sounds as they receded more and 
more ; and they had long ceased to be audible to others 
while he still continued immoveably fixed in a listening 
posture, as if unwilling to lose the least vibrations of 
these notes. He was once, at a military parade, placed 
very near to the great regimental drum; and he was so 
powerfully affected by its first sounds as to be imme- 
diately thrown into convulsions, which rendered his 
instantaneous removal necessary. 

Caspar was remarkable for the extreme susceptibility 
and acuteness of his physical senses until after the 
period when he had been brought to eat meat. The 
following observations appear to refer chiefly to the 
early period of his residence with Professor Daumer :— 
His hearing was exceedingly quick. When taking a 
walk in the fields, he once heard, at a comparatively 
oreat distance, the footsteps of several persons, and he 
could distinguish these persons from each other by 
their walk, Perceiving, on one occasion, that a blind 


1634.) 


man evinced greater powers of hearmg than himself, 
he observed, that his hearing had formerly been more 
acute; but that, since he began to eat meat, he had 
been unable to distinguish sounds with so much nicety 
as the blind man. 

Nothing made his new mode of life more unpleasant 
to him than the sense of smelling. What to us is 
entirely scentless was not so tohim. The most de- 
licate and delichtful odours of flowers were felt 
by him as insupportable stenches, which painfully 
affected his nerves. Excepting the smell of bread, and 
of certain condiments used in that to which he had 
been accustomed in his prison, all scents were more or 
less disagreeable to him. When he was once asked 
which of all other smells was most agreeable to him ? 
he answered, “‘ None at all.” His walks and rides 
were thus rendered very unpleasant by leading him near 
to flower-gardens, tobacco-fields, and nut-trees. He 
could distinguish apple, pear, and plum trees from 
each other at a considerable distance by the smell of 
their leaves. The different colouring materials used in 
the painting of walls and furniture, and in the dyeing 
of cloths,—the pigments with which he coloured his 
pictures,—the ink or pencil with which he wrote,—all 
things about him,—produced effects upon his sense of 
smell which were disagreeable or painful to him. The 
opening of a bottle of Champagne was sure to drive 
him from the table, or to make him sick. What we 
call unpleasant smells were perceived by him with 
much less aversion than many of our perfumes, The 
smell of fresh meat was to him the most horrible of all 
smells. 

As to his sight, there existed, in respect to him, no 
twilight, no night, no darkness. This was first noticed 
by remarking that, at night, he stepped every where 
with the greatest confidence, and that, in dark places, he 
always refused a light when it was offered him, In 
twilight he even saw much better than in broad day- 
livht. Thus, after sunset, he once read the number of a 
house at the distance of a hundred and eighty paces, 
which, in daylight, he would not have been able to dis- 
tinguish so far off. Towards the close of twilight, he 
once pointed out to his instructor a gnat on a very dis- 
tant spider’s web. It has been proved, by experiments 
carefully made, that, in a perfectly dark night, he 
could distinguish different dark colours, such as blue 
and green, from each other. M. von Feuerbach relates 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


that, recollecting the well-known ‘account given by 


Cheselden of a young man who had become blind 
but a few days after his birth, and was restored to 
sight by a successful operation, he felt desirous of 
instituting a comparison between his perceptions and 
those of Caspar. In one of his visits to the tower he 
accordingly directed him to look out of the window, 
which afforded the prospect of a beautiful landscape in 
all the glory of summer. He obeyed; but he im- 
mediately drew back with visible horror, exclaiming, 
“ Ugly! ugly !” and then pointing to the white wall of 
his chamber, he said, ‘‘ There are not ugly.” To the 
question, Why it was ugly? no other reply was made 
but “Ugly! ugly!” M. von Feuerbach; however, pre- 
served this incident in his memory; and, on a future 
occasion, when Caspar’s mind had much advanced in 
cultivation, he took occasion to recall the circumstance 
to his recollection.. He replied, ‘‘ Indeed, what I then 
saw was very ugly; for when I looked at the window, 
it always appeared to me as if a window-shutter had 
been placed close before my eyes, upon which a wall- 
painter had spattered the contents of his different 
brushes, filled with white, blue, green, yellow, and red 
paint, all mingled together. Single things, as I now 
see things, I could not at that time recognize and dis- 
tinguish from each other. This was shocking to look 
al; and, besides, it made me feel anxious and uneasy, 


OL 


because it appeared to me as if my window had beén 
closed up with this party-coloured shutter, in order to 
prevent me from looking out into the open air. That 
what I then saw were fields, hills, and houses; that 
many things which at that time appeared to me much 
larger were, in fact, much smaller, while many other 
things that appeared smaller were, in reality, larger 
than other things,—are facts of which I was afterwards 
convinced by the experience gained during my walks. 
At length I no longer saw anything of the shutter.” 
To other questions, he replied, that in the beginning 
he could not distinguish between what was really round 
or triangular, and what was only painted as round or 
triangular, The men and horses represented on sheets 
of pictures appeared to him precisely as the men and 
horses that were carved on wood ;—but he said that, in 
the packing and unpacking of his things, he had soon 
felt a difference; and that afterwards it had seldom 
happened to him to mistake the one for the other. 

Of his astonishing memory, which was as quick as 
it was tenacious, Caspar gave the most striking proofs ; 
but its strength declined afterwards preciscly in the 
proportion that it was enriched, and as the labour of 
his understanding was increased, 

** His obedience to all those persons who had acquired 
paternal authority over him was unconditional and 
boundless. That the burgomaster or professor had 
said so, was to him a reason for doing or omitting to 
do anything, which was final, and totally exclusive of 
all further questions and considerations. Yet, in his 
opinion, this submission to the authority of others 
referred only to what he was to do or not to do, and it 
had no connexion whatever with his knowing, believ- 
ing, and judging. Before he could acknowledge any- 
thing to be certain and true, it was necessary that he 
should be convinced; and, indeed, that he should be 
convinced, either by the intuition of his senses, or by 
some reasoning so adapted to his powers of comprehen: 
sion, and to the scanty acquirements of his almost vacant 
mind, as to appear to him to be striking. Whenever 
it was impossible to reach his understanding by any of 
these ways, he did not, indeed, contradict the assertion 
made, but he would Jeave the matter undecided, until, 
as he used to say, he had learned more, When he was 
told, among other things, of the impending winter, 
and that the roofs of the houses and the streets of the 
city would then be all white,—as white as the walls of 
his chamber,—he said that this would be very pretty, 
but plainly insinuated that he should not believe it 
until he had seen it. The next winter, when the first 
snow fell, he expressed great joy that the streets, the 
roofs, and the trees were now so well painted; and he 
went quickly down into the yard to fetch some of the 
white paint; but he soon ran to his preceptor with all 
his fingers stretched out, crying and bawling out ‘ that 
the white paint had bit his hand.’” 

[To be concluded in No. 120.] 


A WISH. 


Mine be a cot beside the Inll, 

A bee-hive’s hum shall soothe my ear ; 
A willowy brook that turns a mill, 

With many a fall shall linger near. 


The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch, 
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest 5 
Oft shall the pilgrim litt the latch, 
And share my meal, a welcome guest. 


Around my ivy’d porch shall spring 

Kach fragrant flower that drinks the dew ; 
And Lucy at her wheel shall sing, 

In russet gown and apron blue. 


The village church among the trees, ‘ 
Where first our marriave vows were given, 
With merry peels shall swell the breeze, 
And point with taper spire to heayen. 
RoceErs. 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 
CATHEDRAL OF AMIENS. 


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It was 
whatever | of Notre Dame at Nantes. 


West Front of the Cathedral of Amiens. | 


Tux Cathedral of Amiens has always been accounted | 


ill 
one of the chief glories of Gothic architecture. 


, that style had reached | were completed 
the early part of the | the close of the t 


s of the same kind in that ! 
the cathedrals of Paris, of 


his period are to be referred 


oland 
, namely, 


-wreatest work 
among others, 


6 
its highest perfection 


thirteenth century. To t 


all the other 


erected at the time when, in France at least, 
kingdom : 


might be the case in En 


1834.) 


played in these buildings, nothing of a character similar 


to which, it is contended, was seen in England till 
nearly a hundred years later,—a very powerful argu- 


ment has been deduced in refutation of the notion of 


some writers, that what is called Gothic architecture is 
of English origin. So far, it is said, is this from being 
the case that, if the comparative state.of the art‘in the 
two countries at the same date is to be taken as evidence 
of which borrowed it from the other, it is impossible 
not to-admit that France must have been the fore- 
runner and teacher of England. It would appear that 
the only way in which this argument canbe met, is by 
questioning the fact upon which it is founded ; and 
accordingly it has been. asserted, that. Salisbury and 
other English cathedrals, built in the thirteenth century, 
exhibit as advanced a style. as those of the same age.:in 
France. After all, neither of the theories which make 
the one of these two countries to have borrowed: its 
Gothic architecture from the other is altogether free 
froin difficulties ; and probably the truer supposition is, 
that both derived the art from some third quarter, or, it 
is even possible, from two perfectly distinct quarters, and 
that it was then carried forward independently in each. 

One of the most able expositions and defences of the 
opinion, that the English Gothic is of French origin, 
is contained in a work entitled, ‘ An Historical Survey 
of the Ecclesiastical Antiquities of France, by the Rev. 
G. D. Whittington,’ published in 1809, after the death 
of the author, under the care of the Karl of Aberdeen. 
The views maintained in this work are supported by a 
reference, among other edifices, tothe cathedral of 
Amiens, and by an elaborate comparison,of it with that 


of Salisbury, which was begun in the same year, and | 


also completed nearly within the same space. 

The present is the third cathedral which is recorded 
to have been erected at. Amiens, the two former having 
been successively destroyed. by: fire (the common 
catastrophe of. large buildings in those days) in 1019 
and 1218. The zeal of Bishop Evrard, however, who 
presided over the see when the latter of these two 
calamities occurred, did not permit him to lose much 
time in making preparation for the erection of a new 
and more splendid church; and, after money had been 
collected by every available method for the pious work, 
the building was begun in 1220. It was zealously 
carried on by. Evrard and his successors, till, having 
been finished in all its material parts, it was ‘con- 
secrated in 1269, in the time of Bishop | Bertrand d’Abbe- 
ville, the fifth from its founder. The ornamental part 
of the work, however, it would appear, continued to be 
carried on for nearly. twenty years after this date ; and 
the two great towers over the west front are stated not 
to have been erected till the following century. There 
are some verses, in.old French, inscribed on the. pave- 


ment of the nave, which state that the main part of the } 


building was the work of three successive architects: 
* Maistre Robert de Lusarche, Maistre ‘Thomas de Cor- 
mont, and. Maistre Regnault.’ 

The structure is in the customary form of a .cross, 
composed of a nave and choir in the one direction and a 
transept in the other. Both the nave and the transept 
are furnished with aisles, and there are double aisles on 
each side of the choir. 
dimensions, as given by Mr. Whittington in French 
feet (each of which contains about 13-English inches) ; 
—length from east to west, 415 feet; length of the 
transept from north to south, 182 feet; breadth of the 
nave with its aisles, 7S feet 9 inches ; breadth of the 
transept, 42 feet 9 inches. 

The external appearance of this ae building 
presents a striking combination and harmony of bold- 
ness and lightness. The windows are ranged in two 
tiers, and are of so great height and breadth, being 
divided: from each other only by narrow buttresses, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The following are the principal | 


madrigal window ; 
the north and south terminations of the transept. 


53 


that, to.adopt Mr. Whittington s expression, no wall, 
properly speaking, is visible anywhere ;. the pile is all 
window. ‘The buttresses stand out distinctly from the 
line of the building, and shoot up into pinnacles above 
the commencement of the roof. When Mr. Whitting- 
ton visited Amiens, in 1802 or 1803, the original 
stained glass was still in the windows, and he describes 
its effect as exceedingly beautiful; but later authori- 
ties speak of this ornamental accessory as having been 


now removed. | 


The only considerable extent of solid masonry is pre- 
sented by the west front; and this is magnificent tn the 
extreme. Our engraving is taken from an original draw- 
ing by Mr. W. Frome Smallwood, who has delineated 
most of the other representations of continental build- 
ings that have embellished our publication. ‘There are, 
it will be observed, three great entrances, the central one 
of which in particular is of colossal dimensions. ‘The 
entire breadth of the facade exceeds 160 English feet. 
“This front exhibits,’ says Mr. Whittington, ‘ the 
most gorgeous display of statuary; armies of saints, 
prophets, martyrs, and angels, line the door-ways, 
crowd the walls, and swarm round all the pinnacles; 
nothing can be more rich.” ‘The wall isso deep as, in 
each of the doors, to admit of eight .parallel rows of 
statues running up and ribbing the arch. ‘The execu- 
tion of many of. these firures evinces great talent in 
the artist, and a correctness of taste which we do not 
often find in Gothic statuary. In the south porch there 
are also several fine statues. We give below a copy 
of one representing the Virgin and her Child, which, 
both in outline, expression, attitude, aud drapery, 
possesses a aimipliety and beauty that would do honour 


.to a better school. 





(Virgin and Child, from South Porch.} 


Above the central door is a noble circular or 
others, similar to which, ornament 
The 
towers over the extremities of the west front are 
each of the height of 210 French, that is, about 230 
English, feet. There-is besides a wooden spire over 


54 THE PENNY 
the intersection of the nave and transept; but it does 
not claim much admiration. 

The view on entering the church is in the highest 
degree striking and splendid. Owing to the organ 
being placed over the west end of the nave, the whole 
extent of the interior opens at once on the eye. ‘The 
unusual loftiness of the roof, which is about 145 
English feet from the pavement, adds powerfully to the 
effect. 'The arches, which unite the rows of columns 
on each side of the nave, are also very high, and 
have a most majestic air. Rows of chapels, rich with 
sculpture and other decorations, display themselves on 
each side, amidst the blaze of light that falls from the 
spacious windows. But the crowning ornament is a 
semi-circular colonnade, penetrated with lancet-shaped 
arches, which terminates the choir, and is of course full 
in view. ‘“* The choir,” says Mr. Whittington, “ is 
superb ; it is paved with fine marble, and angels, lean- 
ing forward from every pillar, support the lights; at 
the termination, a mass of clouds, with gold rays burst- 
ing forth, has an exciting effect.” ‘The length of the 
choir is 130 feet (French), and between it and the 
nave there is an interval of 18 feet. The Lady Chapel 
oeyond the choir is 45 feet in leneth. 

Some of the monumental sculptures are worthy of 
observation—one particularly, in the choir, in which | 
there is a representation of a child weeping. There 
are also on each side of the grand entrance the tombs 
of Bishops Evrard and d’Abbeville, the founder and 
finisher of the cathedral, with their figures in brass. 
Among the relics preserved in the choir are shown what ! 
are called the bones of St. Firmin, the founder of the 
see of Amiens, about whose era, however, there is a 
eood deai of difference among the authorities. Some 
say he lived in the first century; while others assign 
him to the third, or even the fourth. They used also to 
show here the head of John the Baptist, which was 
alleged to have been brought from Constantinople about 
the beginning of the thirteenth century. At the Revo- 
lution, the cathedral of Amiens was pillaged of all its 
more valuable ornaments; but the fabric was saved 
from injury by the spirit of the mayor and the inhabi- 
tants, who armed themselves in its defence when it was 
about to be attacked. 


THE BILLS OF MORTALITY. 


‘Tress interesting records can be considered only as 
approximations to the truth; for even if we did not 
know previously how unauthentic are the sources from 
which they are compiled, the bills themselves bear upon 
their face the most obvious evidence of their unprofes- 
sional origin. Yet it must be confessed that there has 
been a rapid improvement in them, indicating to a 
certain extent the diffusion of medical knowledge. 
They no longer tell us, as they formerly did, that some 
persons die planet-struck, or that others are carried off 
by headmouldshot and horseshochead: and the insertion | 
of diseases formerly passed over in silence shows not 
that the diseases are new, but that a little more tact in 
the discrimination of maladies has becn communicated 
even to the uneducated. 

The Bills of Mortality are a part of the domestic 
history of the years to which they belong ; and the pre- 
valence of some diseases, such as dysentery and scurvy, 
is an infallible proof of the filth and wretchedness of" 
the population which is swept away by them. It is 
commonly stated by historians that the plague has 
never appeared in London since 1665; and they attri- 
bute its permanent absence to the great fire of the fol- 
lowing year, which, by destroying the city, forced, as it 
were, the citizens to rebuild it in a more salubrious as 
well as a more commodious style. But, though we do 
not pretend to deny the advantage produced by this 


apparent calamity, yet truth compels us to state that | 


MAGAZINE. [F’epruary 8, 
the plague did appear after 1665, and in some years 
carried off several hundred persons. ‘This fact can easily 
be ascertained by any one who will take the trouble of 
inspecting the Bills of Mortality for the twelve or fifteen 
years following the Great Plague. Instead, however, 
of dilating on the curious facts with which the old 
Bills are replete, we will content ourselves at present 
with a few observations on the last annual Bill, which 
comprehends the deaths that occurred from the 11th of 
December, 1832, to the 10th of December, 1833. They 
amounted to 26,577, being about 350 less than the 
christenings during the same period. The most fatal 
disease in the list is consumption, which is stated to 
have carried off 4355 persons. This number, though 
large, is smaller in proportion to the total deaths than 
we have been accustomed to expect; for the deaths 
from consumption in London have long been estimated 
at a fourth of the whole, and in some years have ex- 
ceeded this proportion : thus in 1799 they were 1 in 3°8, 
and in 1808 they were 1 in 3°6. Every one knows that 
slight cases of this disease are benefited by a removal 
to a warmer, and especially a more equable, climate 
than our own. Madeira most perfectly answers both 
these conditions, and is consequently the fittest residence 
for phthisical patients. Some places, which were long 
but undeservedly recommended, such as Montpelier and 
Marseilles, are extremely inferior to many warm and 
sheltered spots in England; for example, Torquay in 
Devonshire and Hastings in Sussex. 

Age and debility are said to have carried off 2952 
persons. This is always the most inaccurate itern in 
the Bills; for although debility accompanies the majo- 
rity of serious diseases, it can scarcely ever be fatal ot 
itself: and the number of those who die of old age 


| merely, that is, of a gradual decay of the vital powers, 


without any special disorder of a single organ, is so 
small, that 52 would be much nearer the mark than 
2952. ‘I'wo thousand one hundred and forty deaths 
are ascribed to convulsions ; these occur most frequently 
in young children, and hardly ever take place without 
some important derangement of a principal organ, as 
the brain or alimentary canal. Dr. Darwin supposed, 


‘with great ingenuity, that convulsions are not a disease, 


but a natural effort to relieve disease by getting rid of 
an accumulation of nervous irritability. 

Asthma is stated to have destroyed 1265; but though, 
strictly speaking, this term can only be applied to diffi- 
culty of breathing occurring in paroxysms, in ordinary 
language it 1s used for almost any chronic disease at» 
tended with short breath; no confidence, therefore, can 
be placed in the Bills m this particular. One thousand 
one hundred and fifty deaths are ascribed to cholera. 
It is probable that many of those attributed to inflam- ‘ 
mation (2607 in number), as well as to inflammation 
of the bowels and stomach (499 in number), were in 
reality caused by the Asiatic cholera. Only 574 deaths 
are set down to small-pox, a disease which, forty years 
since, clestroyed between 4 and 5000 annually in London. 
It has been the fashion of late to talk with great distrust 
of vaccination, as if it had become an exceedingly 
dubious preventive ; but to what can the diminished 
mortality be attmbuted, excepting to the cow-pox ? 
Two things, however, may be conceded: first, that re- 
vaccination, as it never can be injurious, so it may often 
be commendable ; and secondly, that it would be desi- 
rable to obtain a fresh supply of matter from the cow, 
as it is highly probable that the virus may have been 
weakened by its transmission through a host of human 
beings. This experiment appears to have been tried 
with success by Mr. Macpherson, at Moorshedabad in 
Bengal, in the autumn of 1832. ‘The symptomatic 
fever was more violent than usual, and the natives in 
consequence felt more confidence in the efficacy of this 
little operation, But.five deaths are ascribed to dysen- 


1834.] 


tery, and four to hydrophobia ; the former disease once 
carried off its thousands in this town, while the latter, 
though very rare, might be supposed to be exceedingly 
common, from the fear with which it inspires many 
sensible persons. M. Buisson has lately stated to the 
Royal Academy of Sciences in Paris, that he has dis- 
covered a cure for hydrophobia, It consists in the use 
of the vapour-bath, which he has tried in numerous 
instances, and with only one failure. It remains to be 
seen if his remedy will succeed in the hands of other 
practitioners. Five deaths are recorded to have taken 
place from excessive drinking; but this is merely a list 
of those sots whom liquor deprived of life immediately 
after having bereft them of their senses; for, if the 
truth were known, half the cases put down to dropsy, 
diseased liver, &c., might be fairly charged to gin, 


THE INDIANS OF CALIFORNIA. 


Tne Indians of California may, without injustice, be 
classed lower in the scale of mankind even than the 
Esquimaux. Equally inanimate and filthy in habit, they 
do not possess that ingenuity and perseverance which 
their northern neighbours can boast; sullen and lazy, 
they only ronse themselves when pressed by want; and 
in the settlements of the missionaries, called Missions, 
where the cravings of hunger and thirst are satisfied, 
coercion alone goads them on to labour. 

The men are large but not muscular, nor of a 
manly appearance; their complexion is very dark, and 
their features partake of the negro cast; the hair is 
long, but not coarse. The women are also large, their 
limbs and features regular, but not handsome: they 
perform al] the’ household work, and are quite slaves 
to the other sex. Both sexes tattoo, but without any 
rerular design in the marks on the skin ; they perforate 
the lobes of the ears, and wear in them pieces of wood 
four to six inches in length, ornamented with feathers ; 
their head-dresses and waist-belts are also adorned with 
decorated wood and pieces of bone, teeth of animals, and 
mother-of-pearl. They use no pottery, or earthenware, 
but work baskets so close as to contain fluids. Bows 
and arrows are their only weapons ;—they are of fir, and 
sliehtly made; but, to give toughness to the bow, which 
is about three feet in length, the back part of it is 
strenethened with a glutinous composition of deer- 
sinews. The arrows are about the same lene'th, very 
slender, and armed at the points with small pieces 
of flint jagged at the edges. 

The use of the temiscal, or vapour-bath, of which they 
are passionately fond, is peculiar to this part of North 
America. It consists of a structure of mud, the floor of 
which is sunk from four to five feet below the surface 
of the earth, of a circular form, about fifteen or 
eighteen feet in diameter. Besides the entrance, which 
is provided with a short passage to check the too ready 
admission of the external air, there is a small orifice in 
the top to allow of the escape of the smoke from a fire 
kindled in the centre of the temiscal. Around.this fire, 
and with their feet towards it, the Indians le wrapped 
in their thick woollen blankets, and continue so till the 
whole frame is reduced to a nervous debility by ex- 
cessive perspiration : in this state they quit their warm re- 
treat, and plunge themselves into a stream of cold water, 
near which they are careful always to place their temiscal. 

The Indians pay their adorations to an evil spirit; 
who is supposed to preside over every thing, and whose 
displeasure they wish to avert by worship. This spirit 
is believed to be supreme, and unassisted in his office 
by any infericr agents. ‘They have a full conviction of 
a future existence, and expect to enjoy happiness after 

this life in some delightful island in the sky, which 
happiness, being measured by their present ideas, con- 
sists Jn Seusual gratification, Immediately after the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


55 


breath has left the body, the corpse is burned without 
removing it from the spot; and, as their huts are not 
of laborious structure, they share in the conflagration. 

The number of petty tribes is almost countless; and, 
what is singular, almost every tribe speaks a language, 
or perhaps dialect, which is not understood by the rest. 
Some dialects have the harsh sound of the Esquimaux, 
the words generally terminating in ak, ik, uk; while 
others are soft and full of vowels. 

Their huts are formed of stakes driven into the 
ground, generally circular, and thatched with straw ; 
facility of construction being desirable, on account of 
the tribes frequently changing their stations. From 
the vermin which abound in these rude dwellings, it 
becomes necessary to fire them occasionally. Although 
the country is overrun with horses, the Indians make 
no use of them. 


THE VILLAGE OF BROEK. 
[From a Correspondent. ] 
THERE is one particular villave in Holland (where all 
villages and towns are very clean) remarkable even in 
that country for its excessive cleanliness, and for some 
other striking peculiarities ;—this is Broek, which is 
situated at the distance of a pleasant morning’s excur- 
sion from Amsterdam. Although so near to that great 
city, it does not appear that it has been often visited by 
foreign travellers. I went there, however, and though 
I met with little 1 could recommend to the unqualified 


Imitation of Englishmen, I was so much pleased with 


the strange novelty that reigned throughout the place, 
that I would point it out to all future tourists who 
may have a few hours to spare; and think a brief 
description of it may possess some general interest. 

- The journey from Amsterdam is, as is so usual in 
Holland, an amusing: alternation of land and water 
conveyance. Starting from the city, I crossed its port, 
and then, after riding a little on terra firma, embarked 
on the new grand canal, which the industrious-spirited 
Dutch finished not long ago, after prodigious Jabour 
and expense. I was conveyed alone this great canal 
(cut in order to render the navigation from a part of the 
Zuyder Zee to the port of Amsterdam at once more 
speedy and safe) for somewhat more than half an hour, 
when I again set foot on dry land, at a little village 
curiously built along one of the banks of the said canal. 

From this village, a truly Dutch scene presented 
itself: there was a very wide expanse of pasture-land of 
the most vivid green,—even greener, I should say, than 
our fields in England or Ireland,—and as flat, in every 
part, as a billiard table. Smaller canals, ditches, and 
here and there lakes or large pools, where several of 
these threads of water seemed brought to a head, tra- 
versed or broke this even ground. ‘Vhe colour of all 
this inland water, which for the most part is salt or 
brackish, was a dull olive-green. Numerous herds of 
the finest and fattest cattle I ever belield roamed over 
these wide pastures. . 

Not many years ago, the whole of this rich plain was 
laid under water. ‘The villages and communes, amone 
whom it was divided, could not, unfortunately, agree as 
to the proportion of money and labour to be paid by 
each towards the repair of a great dike or embankment, 
which protected them all equally from inundation. ‘The 
dispute was maintained so obstinately by all parties, 
that recourse was had to law; and, while advocates 
were debating, the sea, becoming impatient, entered 
without further ceremony, and put an end to the suit, 
by demolishing the dike altogether, and rolling its 
waves over an immense extent of rich pasture. The 
damage thus sustained was enormous. he embank- 
ment, which had only required repairing, was now to be 
raised anew; but, with true Dutch perseverance, it 
was raised, The plain was recovered, and now the 


56 


pasture it produces is said to be much finer than ever. 
It is recorded, to the honour of the inhabitants of the 
village of Broek, who were among the sufferers, that, 
at this period ‘of calamity, when all. their neighbours 
required and received assistance from government, or 
from subscriptions made by the public on their behalf, 
they (the people of Broek), in consequence of their 
superior industry and economy, stood in no need of any 
such aid, and had the spirit to reject it when it was 
offered them. ‘They even did more than this. for they 
contributed, with their own finds, to the collection 
made throughout the kingdom of Holland for the 
benefit of those whose erounds had been inundated. 

To continue my journey :—at the village on the grand 
canal, where I landed, I was offered the convevance of 
a carriage td Broek ; but finding that the distance was 
short, I preferred walking. In little more than an hour 
I reached a collection of the cleanest and most brightly- 
coloured houses that eye can behold. They were not 
crowded together, but stood at considerable distances 
from each other, with gardens, flowering orchards, and 
walks between them. At least two-thirds .of these 
houses were scattered round a small lake, the colour of 
whose waters was. the same dull olive green I -have 
already mentioned. ‘This was Broek. From the open 
manner in.which the village is, built, it looks much 
larger, and a place of greater. population, than it is in 
reality. “On inguiry, I found that it did not contain 
more than 500 inhabitants. -, oo | 

On entering what seemed the principal street, (if 
street it might be called,) which was a prolongation of 
the mathematically straight road, with a sleepy canal 
on one side of it, by which I had come, I- found the 
ground not, macadamized or paved with trottoirs on 
either side as in England, but covered all over with 
fine, .polished stones, and bricks of different, colours 
laid almost with the regularity and neatness of mosaic, 
and kept clean and bright by constant manual: labour. 
But how shall I describe the houses? To have an idea 
of them, you must fancy a.e¢roup of children’s doll- 
houses, span new, without a spot of soil upon them, 
——clean and bright as they came from the toy-maker’s 
hands ;—and (if you can) imagine these dilated to full 
size, inhabited by men, women and children, and sur- 
rounded by gardens, groves and canals. Each house is 
painted externally with various and bright colours that are 
renewed once every year at least, and the roof is covered 
with varnished tiles as lucid as mirrors. Before each 
house there is a small space, corresponding to the little 
vailed-in garden so commonly found in front of houses 
in England; but at Broek this space is not filled with 
green turf, and plants or flowers, but is occupied by a 
pavement, composed of variously coloured stones and 
fiints, which are so disposed as to represent in mosaic 
shrubs, flowers, and other natural objects. Something 
of this sort of mosaic is found in the ruins of the 
ancient city of Pompeii, but in the courts, and within 
the walls of the houses ;—here, however, it is fairly in 
the streets. Nor is this all: beside the door of each 
house at Broek there are seats made of beautiful foreign 
woods, and finished as elaborately as our drawing-room 
furniture, The street doors, the window frames, the 
eaves, are all made of similar materials and equally well 
finished. The mosaic pavement in front of the house, the 
seats, the doors, and the other objects exposed externally, 
are most carefully washed and polished every day. At the 
threshold of the house, the visiter finds a pair of slippers 
to replace the boots or shoes he may have worn in 
coming, and which might soil the spotless purity that 
reigns within. It is related with satisfaction. of the 
late Emperor Alexander of Russia, that when, out of 
curiosity, he visited Broek, he readily complied with the 
custom of the place and took off his boots before he 
entered a house. | 





VHE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





[Fepruary 8, 1634. 


The floor of the rooms is generally inlaid with black 
and yellow marble, so placed as to vary the colours. 
The principal apartment is almost always ornamented 
with sculpture in low relief.: But it:is. when you 
descend from what might be considered mere state 
rooms, or apartments kept exclusively for show, or 
erand occasions, and when you examine the common 
sitting-room, the bed-chamber, the kitchen, the scullery, 
the dairy, the stable, that the marvellous, and, indeed, 
over-scrupulous neatness and cleanliness of the people 
of Broek strike you with their full force. ‘To make use 
of a common expression, you might, indeed, eat your 
dinner off any part of either of those places. » .Where- 
ever,I turned my eye, in them I saw nothing but 
was clean, bright, and polished as a mahogany table 
or a.marble slab. The nicest Enelish kitchen, the. 
cleanest English dairy, or stable, would look dingy 
and dirty in comparison. In some instances this over- 
scrupulousness was carried to a degree that appeared 
ridiculous,—at least to me. .In the kitchen there was 
a copper lever.to turn on warm water to wash dishes,: 
&c., which lever was kept as bright as a new. halfpenny, 
and the part exposed to the touch of. the hand covered 
with. a hollowed piece of fine wood. In the stable: 
where cows are regularly housed, and curried and rubbed 
down with all the attention we pay to blood horses, or 
to pet riding. ponies, the tails of the cows were all 
turned up, and secured to the rafters of the roof by. 
means of strings. . nS 

' The gardens of these houses abounded with the 
rarest flowers ; they were also ornamented with works. 
of art, much more singular than tasteful... I saw red 
hons, blue tigers, yellow foxes, green hares, white 
crows, grottoes incrusted with shells, Chinese vases, 
moving Mandarins, and other. whimsical automata, 
which were evidences of wealth though not of. taste. 
The whole appearance of the village of Broek, of its 
houses and accessories, had, in my fancy, much of a 
Chinese or Japanese character. What I was told of 
the retiring, exclusive character of the inhabitants also 
seemed to recall those distant parts of the world. The . 
people of ‘Broek intermarry with one another, and 
rarely with those of any other district. They are little 
disposed to sociability, even among themselves: and 
‘seldom give, dinners, or any other entertainments. 1 
‘must. mention; however, to their. credit, that, until 
lately, there was no inn in their village, and that they , 
entertained, in their private houses, and with creat 
hospitality, any stranger that went among them. 
There is now a small inn at Broek where the traveller 
can be accommodated. ‘l'o plays, coffee-houses, and. 
such places of amusement, they show an_ aversion. 
Their industry is entirely agricultural, or rather that . 
of grazing and rearing cattle. They are sober, steady, 
economical in their habits of life, and, almost without 
an exception, rich. 

But I have yet to mention one of the most extra-. . 
ordinary customs of the people of Broek. They never 
open the principal apartment of their house, which is the 
most finely fiirnished, except at the baptism, the marriage, 
and the death of a member of the family ;—at all other 
seasons it is almost hermetically closed, and kept as it 
were sacred. 





What the printing-press did for the mstruction of the 
masses in the fifteenth century, the printing-machine is 
doing in the nineteenth. Each represents an era in the 
diffusion of knowledge ; and each may be taken asa symbol 
of the intellectual character of the age of its employment, | 


a A A 


*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 29, LUDGATE STREET 


Printed by WittiAm Clowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 





Ti NNY MAGA 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


THE 


ZINE 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





[Frenruary 15, 1834. 















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[Fishmongers’ Hall. ] 


Ar cne time the London Fishmongers appear to 
have been the wealthiest and most powerful of the 
City Companies. Originally they formed two great 
bodies—the Salt-fishnongers, who were incorporated 
by letters patent in 1433, in the reign of, Henry VI. ; 
and the Stock-fishmongers, incorporated by charter 
from Henry VII. in 1509. Like other crafts, how- 
ever, the fishmongers certainly existed as a civic 
association long before the earliest of those dates. 
In ancient times the consumption of fish in England 
was undoubtedly much greater in proportion to the 
population than it now is. As long as the Catholic 
religion prevailed, an abstinence from flesh was ob- 
served by all ranks for a considerable part of the year ; 
and fish were of necessity consumed to a large extent, 
just as they still are in the Catholic countries of the 
Continent, where at this day the produce of our New- 
foundland fishery finds its chief market. As in these 
countries, however, so in Catholic England—the great 
consumption was of dried and salted fish. ‘The names 
of the two old London companies are an evidence of 
this. It would have been quite impossible in those 
days for many parts of the country to have obtained a 
sufhicient supply of any other kind; and, indeed, even 


now a regular supply of fresh fish: could not be gene- 
rally commanded. 


Although London and some other _ 


article in the uncured state, the great trade must neces- 
sarily be in that form of it which admits of being pre- 
served for a length of time, and in that way of being 
carried, like other merchandise, to the most distant 
parts of the country, or to foreign countries. 

- After the Reformation, the legislature attempted to 
do what the Church had formerly done, in encouraging 
the use of fish as an article of food among the people 
wenerally. A curious act of parliament was passed 11 
1563 (the 5th Eliz., c. 5), which provided ° that, as 
well for the maintenance of shipping, the increase of 
fishermen and mariners, and the repairing of port- 
towns, as for the sparing and increase of the flesh 
victual of the realm, it shall not be lawful for any to 
eat flesh on Wednesdays and Saturdays,—unless under 
the forfeiture of 3/. for each offence,—excepting cases 
of sickness, and also those by special licenses to be 
obtained.” For these licenses peers were to pay to the 
poor ll. 6s. 8d.; knights and their wives 13s. 4d.; and 
other persons 6s. $d. Even the license, however, did 
not permit the purchaser to eat beef on the forbidden 
days, but only mutton, or other kinds of flesh. It-is 
added, ‘* But because no person shall misjudge the 
intent of this statute, be it enacted, that whoever shall, 
by preaching, teaching, writing, or open speech, notify 
that any eating of fish, or forbearing of flesh, mentioned 


large towns consume considerable quantities of the | in this statute, is of any necessity for the serving of the 


Von. Tit, 


58 


soul of man, or that it is the service of God, otherwise 
than as other politic laws are and be, then such persons 
shall be punished as spreaders of false news ought 
to he.” By a subsequent statute (the 27th Elizabeth, 
c. 2), the prohibition against eating flesh was limited to 
Saturdays 5 but it was still commanded that no vic- 
tuallers should sell flesh either on Fridays or Satur- 
days, or at all during the season of Lent. 

These regulations must have tended to keep up 
among the people their old habit of living to a con- 
siderable extent upon dried and salted fish. Mean- 
while the two city companies had been incorporated 
into one by Henry VIII., in 1536, under the title of 
“the Wardens and Commonalty of the Mystery of 
Vishmongers.” Thus united, they form the fourth. city 
company, standing immediately after the Drapers’, and 
before the Goldsmiths’. 

In 1750, Mr. Tomkyns, the clerk of the Company, in 
addressing Frederick Prince of Wales on his admission 
as a freeman, said, “‘’This Company, Sir, is famous for 
having had near threescore lord mayors of the city of 
London, besides many of the most considerable mer- 
chants and eminent citizens, free of it.” At one period, 
so great was the influence of the Company, that it gave 
to the city six lord mayors in the space of twenty-four 
years. Of these the most famous was the lust, William 
Walworth, who, in 1880, slew Watt Tyler in Smithfield, 
at the head of 30,000 rebels. For this achievement 
Walworth was knighted by the king, Richard IT. ; 
and, according to a common, though somewhat doubt- 
ful, tradition, the dagger was added to the City arms. 

All this glory, however, seems to have brought upon 
the Fishmongers not a little envy and hostility from their 
fellow-citizens. Walworth was succeeded in the mayor- 
alty by the celebrated John of Northampton, who pro- 
fessed himself the advocate of violent changes, and who, 
had he presided over the city in the time of Watt 
‘Lyler’s insurrection, would have been much more likely 
to join the rebels than to kill their chief. John of 
Northampton (known also by the popular aliases of 
Cumbertown and Troubletown) was a draper, and, as 
such, no friend of the Fishmongers. Availing himself 
of the power which his place gave him, and also of 
enmities which had long existed between certain other 
companies and this prosperous trade, he appears to 
have set himself not merely to diminish their weight 
and importance, but to lay his rivals entirely prostrate. 
He not only got the king to. allow foreigners (as 
strangers, or persons not freemen, used to be called) to 
sell fish in London, in violation of the monopoly which 
the Company of Fishmongers had long enjoyed; but, 
according to Maitland, he compelled the Company “to 
acknowledge that their occupation was no craft, and 
therefore unworthy of being reckoned among the other 
mystenes.” It was declared that, for the future, no 
lord maycr should be chosen from the Fishmongers. 
However, Troubletown’s term of authority having 
ended, the Company was restored, by parliament, to all 
its old rights and privileges, the right of holding courts 
for the trial of complaints alone excepted. It was 
directed that all cases which had formerly been decided 
in the Company’s court should, for the future, be 
brought before that of the Lord Mayor. 

Before the Salt-fishmongers and the Stock-fish- 
mongers were united, they had no fewer than six halls, 
each having one in the three streets then principally 
inhabited by the members of the trade ; namely, Thames 
Street.(anciently called Fishmonger Row), Old Fish 
Street, and New Fish Street. On their incorporation 
into one society, they chose for their common hall one 
of their two houses in Thames Street, which we are 
tuld had been given to them in the reign of Henry VI., 
by Sir John Cornwall, Lord Franhope. This old 


building, however, was destroyed in the Great Fire ; | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


from pleasurable. 


[FEBRUARY 15, 


and soon after a new hall was erected on the same site, 
from a design by Sir Christopher Wren. It was a 
handsome and showy structure. Maitland, writing 
about the middle of the last century, says, ‘* The front 
next the Thames, which has been lately repaired and 
beautified at a very extraordinary expense, exceeds 
every thing of its kind in this city, aud yields a most 
graceful and pleasant prospect, with a maenificent 
double flight of stone stairs on the wharf.” 
this building is given in Mr. Brayley’s ‘ Londiniana,’ Vol. 
II., as it appeared in June, 1827. Soon after that date 
it was taken down to make rooni for the approaches to 
the New London Bridge; and a very splendid new hall 
has since been erected a little to the west of the place 
where its predecessor stood. Our engraving presents 
a view of it as seen from the street and the river; 
and a full description of it may be found in the ‘ Com- 
panion to the Almanac’ for 1834. It stands between 
Thaines Street and the river, immediately to the west 
of the elevated road leading to the bridge, to the level 
of which the main part of the building is raised by two 
lower stories; the undermost disposed into cellars, 
warehonses, and shops, and the hieher into offices and 
other apartments for the use of the Company. The 
superstructure Commences about five or six feet above 
the level of the Bridge road; and also consists of two 
stories. It is faced with Portland stone; and there are 
three distinct fronts, one to the east, another towards 
Thaines Street, and the third looking to the river. The 
last is ornamented by a colonnade of granite, which 
supports a terrace. The Thames Street front presents 
a receding centre and two projecting wings. That to 
the east is the entrance front, and consists of a range 
of attached columns in the centre, and two wings 
adorned with pilasters, with a lofty attic surmounting 
the entablature. These fronts are all separate composi- 
tions; and it is objected to the building that, however 
great may be their particular merits, they are not 
adapted to produce that unity of effect which would 
have been desirable. 


' CASPAR HAUSER —No. IT. 
{Concluded from No. 119.] 


As the powers of Caspar’s mind opened, he became less 
interested by the playthings by which he had been at first 
so entirely absorbed. Even his love for horses was trans- 
ferred from the wooden representative to the living ani- 
mal, and in an amazingly short time he became a most 
accomplished and fearless horseman. His connexion 
with Professor Daumer, and his intercourse with others, 
soon led him to feel his own deficiencies. It was very 
affecting to hear his often-repeated lamentation, that 
there were so many things, known to the people of the 
world, which he had yet to learn. But he did not 
despair. The curiosity, the thirst for knowledge, and 
the inflexible perseverance with which he fixed his 
attention to anything he was determined to learn or 
comprehend, were truly wonderful. 

It is pamful, but not surprising, to learn that under 
the new perceptions of his senses and intellect, and the 
processes they were undergoing, his feelings were far 
He longed to go back “ to the man 
with whom he had always been.” At home, (in his 
hole,) he said, he had never suffered so much from 
head-ache, and had never been so much teased, as since 
he was in the world. Nevertheless, he was willing to 
reinain at Nurembure until he had learned what the 
bureomaster and the professor knew; but then he must 
be taken home, and he would show the man what He 
lad Icarned in the meantime. When surprise was ex- 
pressed that he should wish to return to that abdémi- 
nably bad man, he replied, with’ mild indienation, 
‘“ Man not bad—-inan me no bad done.” Against “ the 


A view of 


4 


1834] 


man with whom he had always been,” Caspar never 


showed the least anger, and was never willing to hear: 


that he ought to be punished, until the following beau- 
tiful and affecting incident occurred in the gradual 
development of his mental life. 

*‘ It was in the month of August, 1829, when, on a 


fine summer evening, his instructor showed him for the’ 


first time the starry heavens. His astonishment and 
transport surpassed all description. He could not be 
satiated with its sight, and was ever returning to gaze 
upon it; at the same time fixing accurately with his 
eye the different groups that were pointed out to him, 
yemarking the stars most distinguished for their bright- 
ness, and observing the differences of their respective 
eolours. ‘That,’ he exclaimed, ‘is indeed the most 
beautiful sight I have ever yet seen in the world, But 
who has placed all these numerous beautiful candles 
there ? who lights them ? who puts them out?’ When 
he was told, that like the sun, with which he was 
already acquainted, they always continue to give light, 
he asked again, who placed thein there above, that they 
may always continue to give light? At length, standing 
motionless, with his head bowed down, and his eyes 
staring, he fell into a deep and serious meditation. 
When he again recovered his recollection, his transport 
had been succeeded by deep sadness. He sank trein- 
bling into a chair, and asked, why that wicked man 
had kept him always locked up, and had never shown 
him any of these beautiful things. He (Caspar) had 
hever done any harm. He then broke out into a fit 
of crying, which lasted for a long time, and which 
could with difficulty be soothed; and said, that ‘ the 
man with whom he had always been’ might now also 
be locked up fora few days, that he might learn to 
know how hard it was to be treated so.” 

We may here remark that Cicero quotes. Aristotle 
as affirming, and repeats the affirmation himself, that 
a person brought, like Caspar, at an advanced period of 
life to the first view of the skies and the external 
world, would not fail to consider all he saw as the 
werk of an intelligent mind, even though he had never 
heard of a God. We see this remarkably proved in the 
case of the poor boy whose history we are detailing. 

As Caspar Hauser increased in knowledge, and in 
the experiences and sensations of hfe, his general 
appearance and mode of existence became like those of 
other men. He learned to.eat all meats except pork ; 
but all fermented liquors, and even tea and coffee, were 
still abominable to him. His perceptions gradually 
became much less rapid and tenacious. ‘* Of the gi- 
gantic powers of his memory, and of other astonishing 
qualities, not a trace remained ; and he retained nothing 
extraordinary but his extraordinary fate, his indescribable 
goodness, and the exceeding amiableness of his disposi- 
tion.” Yet, while in understanding aman, but in know- 
Jedee a child,—and in many thing's more ignorant thana 
child,—his language and demeanour could not but often 
exhibit him as a mingled compound of a child, youth, 
and man, without its being easy to determine to which 
portion of life this combination of them all properly 
belonged. He was himself oppressively conscious of 
lis peculiar situation, and the consciousness gave a 
shade of melancholy and dejection to his character and 
countenance. He would lament that he was already so 
old, and was still obliged to learn what children knew 
long ago. He would say ‘‘ I wish I had never come 
out of my cage. He who put me there should have 
Jeft me there; then I should never have known and 
felt the want of anything; and I should never have 
experienced the misery of never having been a child, 
and of having come so late into the world.” 

fe was able to give little information concerning the 
previous portion of his existence, and that confirmed 


the conclusions at which the people of Nuremburg had | 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. 59 
arrived. ‘There was no doubt that he had always lived 
in a hole (a small, low apartment which he sometimes 
called a cage) where the light never entered, and a 
sound was never heard. Im this dlace ti appears that 
he never, even in his sleep, las +~*+. tis whole body 
stretched out, but sat, waking and sleeping, with his 
leas extended before him, and his back supported in an 
erect posture. Some peculiar property of Is place of 
rest, or some particular contrivance, appears to have 
made it necessary that he should always remain in this 
position. An unusual formation of the knee seems to 
have resulted from it, so that, when Caspar sat down 
with the leg and thigh extended horizontally on the 
floor, the back formed a right angle with the flexure o’ 
the thigh, and the knee-joint lay extended so close to 
the floor that not the smallest hollow was perceptible 
in the ham, between which and the floor a common 
playing-card could scarcely be thrust. In this dungeon, 
whenever he awoke from sleep, he found a loaf and a 
pitcher of water by him. Sometimes the water had a 
bad taste, probably from the infusion of opium ; for 
whenever this was the case he could no longer keep 
his eyes open, but was compelled to fall asleep; and 
when he afterwards awoke, he found that he had a 
clean shirt on, and that his nails had been cut; from 
which, and other circumstances, it appears that Caspar 
met with a certain degree of careful attention during 
the period of his inearceration. He never saw the face 
of the man who brought him his meat and drink, who 
also never spoke to him, except to utter the ‘* Reuta 
wihn,”’ &c., which Caspar so unmeaningly repeated 
when found in Nuremburg. In his hole he had two 
wooden horses and several ribands: with these horses 


/he had always amused himself so long’as he remained 


awake; and his only occupation was to make them run 
by his side, and to fix or tie the ribands about them in 
different positions. ‘Thus one day had passed as the 
other; but he had never felt the want of anything, had 
never been sick, and, once only excepted, had never felt 
the sensation of pain. -It is also remarkable that he 
never had dreams until after he went to live with 
Professor Daumer, when he regarded them as real 
appearances. 

How long he had continued to live in this situation 
he knew not, for he had no knowledge of time. 
He had no recollection of ever having been in a 
different situation, or in any other than that place. 
The man with whom he had always been never did him 
any harm but once, when he struck him a severe blow 
with a stick or piece of wood, because he had been run- 
ning his horse too hard, and had made too much noise. 
Soon after this circumstance, the man came and placed 
a small table over his feet, and spread some paper 
upon it; he then came behind him, so as not to be seen 
by him, took hold of his hand, and moved it backward. 
and forward on the paper, with a lead-pencil which he 
had stuck between his fingers. Caspar was exceedingly 
pleased with the black figures which appeared on the 
white paper; and, when the man was gone, was never 
tired of drawing these figures repeatedly on the paper. 
Another time the man came to :he place where he lay, 
lifted him up, and endeavoured to teach him first to 
stand and then to walk. Fina’ly, the man came one 
day and, taking him on _ his back, carried him out of 
the prison. It appears that he fainted on being brought 
into the light of day and the fresh air. He noticed 
none of the objects around him during the journey. 
He was only conscious that the man who had been 
leading him put the letter which he had bronght with 
him into his hand and then vanished; after which a 
citizen observed him and took him to the guard-room. 

it seems, from this account, that Caspar had at length 
become a dangerous burden to those who kept him 
secretly confined. He had grown restless; his powers 


ad 


60 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


of life were more vivid ;—he sometimes made a noise, 
and it was necessary to keep him quiet by means of 
severe chastisement. But why they did not get rid of 
him in some other manner? why they did not destroy 
him ? why he had not been put out of the world as a 
child ?—these are qaestions which still remain without 
solution. It seems to have been expected that he would 
have been lost, as a vagabond or an idiot, in some 
public institution at Nurembure; or, if any attention 
was paid to the recommendation he brought with him, 
as a soldier in some regiment. But none of these events 
took place. The unknown foundling met with humane 
consideration, and became the object of universal public 
attention. ‘The journals were filled with accounts of 
this mysterious young man, and with conjectures re- 
specting him ;—the development of his mind was every 
where spoken of,—marvellous things were related to 
the public of his progress; and it was at last reported 
that Caspar Hauser was employed in writing a history 
of his life. At this period, and probably with the view 
of preventing the execution of this intention, an attempt 
was made, on the 17th of October, 1829, to assassinate 
him in the house of Professor Daumer. He escaped 
with an inconsiderable wound on his forehead, but 
which, from the excited state of his nervous system, 
occasioned him much suffering and prolonged in- 
disposition. 

At a subsequent period Earl Stanhope adopted the 
charge of Caspar, and had him removed to Anspach, 
where he was placed under the care of an able school- 
master, with whom he also resided. It was intended that 
he should be brought to this country, in which he would 
have been tolerably safe from the dread of assassination. 
This fear, in which he long lived after the first attempt 
upon his life, seems, indeed, to have considerably sub- 
sided after he had remained several years at Anspach 
without inolestation. But his secret enemy had not lost 
sight of him. As he was leaving the Tribunals on the 
morning of December 14th, 1833, a stranger, wrapped 
in a large cloak, accosted him under the pretence of 
having an important communication to make. Caspar 
excused himself, as he was then going to dine, but 
promised to meet the stranger in the afternoon in the 
palace-garden. 'The meeting took place: the stranger 
drew some papers from underneath his cloak, and, while 
Hauser was about to examine them, stabbed him twice 
near the heart with a dagger that he had kept concealed. 
The wounds were not immediately fatal. Caspar was 
able to return home, but could then only utter in 
broken syllables, ‘* Palace-garden—purse—Uz—monn- 
ment.” The tutor to whose care he had been com- 
mitted despatched the soldiers of the police to Uzen’s 
monument, in the palace-garden,. where they found a 
sniall purse of violet silk, containing a scrap of paper, 
on which was writtei, in a disguised hand, ** Hauser 
ean tell you well enough why I appear here, and who I 
am. ‘I'o save Hauser the trouble, I will tell you myself 
whence I come ; I come from—fioin—the Bavarian fron- 
tier,—on the river ————-. I will also give you the name, 
M. L. O.” According to Caspar’s description, the man 
was the same who made the previous attempt upon 
his life at Nuremburg. ‘The unfortunate Caspar 
Hauser died on the night of December 17th, in con- 
sequence of the wounds he had received; and no 
clue to the mystery of his life and death has yet been 
obtained, although a reward of 5000 florins has been 
offered by Lord Stanhope for the discovery of the 
assassin. The funeral of Caspar Hauser took place on 
the 26th of December, and was attended by crowds 
of persons, all moved by the deepest sympathy, for the 
poor youth was greatly beloved. His preceptor, Dr. 
Fuhrmann, pronounced an oration over his grave, in 
the course of which he alluded to the last words of the 
victim, who, on being asked if he forgave his enemies, 


[Fusruary 15, 


replied, “I have prayed God to forgive all whom I 
have known; for myself personally I have nothing’ to 
forgive as no one ever did me wrong.” 


~~» 


OF SOLITUDE. 


Tail, old patrician trees, so great and good! 
Hail, ye plebeian underwood ! 
Where the poctic birds rejoice, 
And for their quiet nests and plenteous food 
Pay with their grateful voice. 
Hail, the poor Muse’s richest manor-seat ! 
Ye country houses and retreat, 
Which all the happy gods so love, 
That for you oft they quit their bright and great 
Metropolis above. 
Here Nature does a house for me erect, 
Nature! the wisest architect, 
Who those fond artists does despise 
That can the fair and living trees necleet, 
Yet the dead timber prize. 
ITere let me, careless and unthoughtful lying, 
Hear the soft winds above me flying 
With all their wanton boughs dispute, 
And the more tnneful birds to both replying 
Nor be myself, too, mute. 


A silver stream shall roll his waters near, 
Gilt with the sunbeams here and there, 
On whose enamelled banks I'll walk, 
And see how prettily they smile, 
And hear how prettily they talk. 


Ah! wretched, and too solitary he 
Who loves not his own company ! 
He'll feel the weight of ’t many a day, 
Unless he call in sin or vanity 
Lo help to bear’t away. 
Cowruy, born 1618, dicd 1667. 


ae 


The Grateful Bonze.-—A mandarin, who took much 
pride in appearing with a number of jewels on every part 
of his robe, was once accosted by an old sly bonze, who, 
following him through several streets, and bowing often to 
the ground, thanked him for his jewels. ‘ What does the 
man mean?” cried the mandarin: “ Friend, I never gave 
thee any of my jewels.” ‘ No,’ replied the other, “ but 
you have let me look at them, and that is all the use you 
can make of them yourself; so there is no difference be- 
tween us, except that you have the trouble of watching them, 
and that is an employment I do not much desire.’ — 
Goldsmith—Citizen of the H¥orld 





Feasting the Poor.—Before the present mode of pro- 
viding for the indigent by a compulsory rate existed, large 
sums were daily distributed by the kings of England in 
private alms; and the festivals of particular saints were 
honoured by feasting many thousands of the poor at their 
expense. Among the Close Rolls, still extant, by which 
such entertainment for the poor is ordered, the following»— 
all of which refer to the year 1244, the 28th of Henry IL1.-— 
may be mentioned. In January, the king's treasurer is 
commanded to cause 15,000 poor persons to be fed in St. 
Paul's Church-yard on the day of the Conversion of Paul, 
and to cause 1500 wax tapers to be made and placed in 
St. Paul’s Church, London, on the same occasion. In the 
next month, the same person is ordered to give directions 
for feeding as many persons as can enter the great and 
lesser hall at Westminster, on tle anniversary of Joan, the 
king’s sister, formerly queen of Scotland. In December, 
6000 persons are ordered to be fed at Westminster, on the 
Feast of the Circumcision ; and, with a considerate view to 
the inclemency of the season, it is particularly directed that 
all the more aged and infirm should be fed in the greater 
and lesser hall, the less infirm and middle-aged in the 
King’s Chamber, and the children in the Queen’s Chamber. 


The Kitchens of King John.—An order, dated April 19, 
1206, commands Hugh de Nevill to have the king's kitchen 
at Clarendon roofed with shingles, and to cause two new 
kitchens to be erected, one at Marlborough and the other at 
Ludgershall, to dress the royal dinners in; and it is par- 
ticularly directed that each kitchen should be provided with 
a furnace sufliciently Jarge to roast two or three oxen, 


1834.) 


LHE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


61 


THE OBELISK OF LUXOR. 





so) C_) 
[South Face.} 





[North Face.] 

[Hieroglyphics on the uppermost division of the Obelisk of Luxor. | 

Wi: fancy there are few of our readers but have read 
descriptions and seen drawings or prints of the two 
remarkable obelisks called Cleopatra’s Needles, near 


Alexandria, on the coast of Egypt. Of these only one 
is erect; the other has been for many years prostrate 
and half buried in sand. 

Among the treasures of antiquity found in the in- 
terior of Egypt, and particularly in the Thebaid, were, 
till very lately, two granite columns of precisely the 


same character as Cleopatra’s Needles. Of these,. one | lowed, 









O &&3 OL, 


‘ — ABS Fy S 
es : 


>" ate ma aan | 7 
Co Ce pa 
So ba Z aN CRS 
O§ 


[West Face.]} 


remains on the desolate spot; the other, with great 
labour and expense, has been transported to the flourish- 
ing capital of France. 

When the French army, in their attempt on Egypt, 
penetrated as far as Thebes, they were, almost to a man, 
overpowered by the majesty of the ancient monuments 
they saw before them; and Bonaparte 3s then said to 
have conceived the idea of removing at Jeast one of 
the obelisks to Paris. But reverses and defeat fol 
The French were forced to abandon Egypt ; 


62 


and the English remaining masters of the seas, effectu- 
ally prevented any such importation into France. 

The project of Bonaparte had the sort of classical 
precedent he so much admired. Roman conquerors and 
Roman emperors had successively enriched the capital of 
the world with the monuments of snbdned nations, and 
with the spoils of art from Sicily, Greece, and Eeypt. 
Among these, the Emperor Augustus ordered tio 
Keyptian obelisks, also of the same character as Cleo- 
patra’s Needles, to be brought to Rome. To this end 
ai immense vessel of a peculiar construction was built; 
and when, after a tedious and difficult voyage, it reached 
the Tyber with its freight, one of the columns was placed 
in the Grand Circus, and the other in the Campus 
Martius, at Rome. Caligula adorned Rome with a 
third Iigyptian obelisk, obtained in the same manner. 

‘he Iumperor Constantine, still more ambitious of 
these costly foreign ornaments, resolved to decorate his 
new-founded capital of Constantinople with the largest 
of all the obelisks that stood on the ruins of Thebes. 
Fle succeeded in having it conveyed as far as Alex- 
andria; but, dying at the time, its destination was 
changed, and an enormous raft, managed by 300 
rowers, transported the granite obelisk from Alex- 
andria to Rome. The difficulties encountered by the 
large, flat, awkward vessel do not appear to have oc- 
cnrred during the passage across the Mediterranean, 
which was, no doubt, effected during the fine, settled 
summer season, when that sea is often, for weeks 
together, almost as calm asa small fresh-water lake; 
but they presented themselves at the passage of the 
mouth of the Tyber, and in the shallows of that river. 
When all these obstacles were overcome, it required the 
abour of thousands of men to set up the obelisk upon 
its base at Rome. 

The Emperor Theodosius, at last, sueceeding in bring- 
ing an obelisk from Egypt to Constantinople, erected it 
in the Hippodrome. Though this was of an inferior size 
(being rather under than over fifty feet), it is recorded 
that it required thirty-two days’ labour and the most 
complicated contrivances of mechanics to set it upright. 

The Constantinopolitan obelisk still stands where it was 
first erected by the emperor; but those of Rome have 
been removed by the Popes. In all, there are twelve 
ancient obelisks erect in the modern city of Rome *. 

Lhirty years after Bonaparte’s first conception of the 
idea, the French government, then under Charles X., 
having obtained the consent of the pasha of Egypt, 
determined that one of the obelisks of Luxor should be 
brought to Paris. ‘‘The difficulties of doing this,” 
says M. Delaborde, ‘ were great. In the first place it 
was necessary to build a vessel which should be large 
enough to contain the monument,—deep enough to 
stand the sea,—and, at the same time, draw so little 
water as to be able to ascend and descend such rivers 
as the Nile and the Seine.” 

¥n the month of February, 1631, when the crown of 
Hrance had passed into the hands of Louis Philippe, 
a vessel, built as nearly as could be on the necessary 
principles, was finished and equipped at Toulon. This 
vessel, which for the sake of lightness was chiefly made 
of fir and other white wood, was named the “ Louxor.” 
‘he crew consisted of 120 seamen, under the command 
of Lieutenant Verninac of the French royal navy-; and 
there went, besides, sixteen mechanies of different pro- 
fessions, and a master to direct the works, under the 
superintendence of M. Lebas, formerly a pupil of the 
Polytechnic School, and now a naval engineer. 

M. J. P. Angelina accompanied the expedition in 
quality of surgeon-major; and to a volume which this 
eentleman has recently published at Paris we are in- 
debted for an account of its proceedings. 

. ™ See ‘The British Museum—Egyptian Antiquities,’ jn ‘the 
f Library of Entertaining Knowledge,’ 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Fesruary 15, 


On the 15th of April, 1831 (which we should have 
thought two mouths too early in the season), the 
** Louxor” sailed from Toulon. Some rather violent 
winds and heavy seas proved that a vessel so bniit was 
not very seaworthy, and appear to have somewhat 
frightened the “* Chirurgien-Major ;” but they arrived 
without any serious accident in the port of Alexandria 
on the 3d of May. After staying forty-two days ut 
Alexandria, the expedition sailed again on the 15th 
of June for the Rosetta mouth of the Nile, which they 
entered on the following day, though not without 
danger from the sand-bank which the river has de- 
posited there. At Rosetta they remained some days; 
and on the 20th of June, M. Lebas, the engineer, two 
officers, and a few of the sailors and workmen, leaving the 
‘¢ Louxor’ to make her way up the river slowly, em- 
barked in connnon Nile-boats for Thebes, carrying with 
them the tools and materials necessary for the removal 
of the obelisk. On the 7th of July, when the waters 
of the Nile had risen considerably, the ‘* Louxor” 
sailed from Rosetta; on the 13th she reached Boulak, 
the port of Grand Cairo, where she remained intil thie 
19th; and she did not arrive at ‘Thebes until the 14th 
of August, which was two months after her departure 
from Alexandria. 

‘Lhe ‘Turks and Arabs were astonished at seeing so 
large a vessel on the Nile, and frequently predicted she 
would not accomplish the whole voyage. The difficul- 
ties encountered in so doing were, indeed, very serious : 
in spite of the peculiar build and material, the vessel 
grounded and struck fast in the sand several times; at 
other times a contrary wind, joined to the current, 
which was of course contrary all the way up, obliged 
thein to lie at anchor for days; and the greatest part of 
the ascent of the river was effected by towing, which 
exhausting work seems to have been performed, partly 
by the French sailors, and partly by such Arabs and 
}ellahs as they could hire for the occasion. An exces- 
sive heat rendered this fatigue still more insupport- 
able. Reaumur’s thermometer marked from 30° to 
38° in the shade, and ascended to 50°, and even to 
55°, in the sun*, Several of the sailors were seized 
with dysentery, and the quantity of sand blown about 
by the wind, and the glaring reflection of the burning 
sun, afflicted others with painful ophthalmia. The sand 
must have been particularly distressing: one day the 
wind raised it and rolled it onward in such volume as, 
at intervals, to obscure the light of the sun. After they 
had felicitated themselves on the fact that the plague 
was not in the country, they were struck with alarm on 
the 29th of August, by learning that the cholera morbus 
had broken out most violently at Cairo, On the 11th 
of September the sane mysterious disease declared itself 
on the plain of Thebes, with the natives of which the 
French were obliged to have frequent communications. 
In a very short time fifteen of the sailors, according to 
our author, the surgeon, caught the contagion, but every 
one recovered under his care and skill. At the same 
time, however, (panic no doubt increasing the disposi- 
tion to disease;) no fewer than forty-eight men were laid 
up with dysentery, which proved fatal to two of them. 

In the midst of these calamities and dangers, the 
French sailors persevered in preparing the operations 
relative to the object of the expedition. One of the 
first cares of M. Lebas, the engineer, on his arriving 
on the plain of Thebes, was to erect, near to the obelisks 
and not far from the village of Luxor, proper wooden 
barracks,—sheds and tents to lodge the officers, sailors, 
and workmen, on shore. He also built an oven to bake 
them bread, and magazines in which to secure their 
provisions, and the sails, cables, &c., of the vessel. 


* As compared with Fahrenheit’s, the thermometer generally 
used in this country, 30% of Reaumur are equal to 989, 50% to 
1449, . JM , 


1834.] 
The now desolate site on which the City of the Hun- 
dred Gates, the vast, the populous, and the wealthy 
Thebes, once stood, offered them no resources, nor a 


single comfort of civilized life. But French soldiers 
and sailors are happily, and, we imay say, honourably 


distinguished, by the facility with which they adapt 


themselves to circumstances, aud turn their hands to 
whatever can add to their comfort and wellbeing. 
The sailors on.this expedition, during their hours of 
repose from more severe labours, carefully prepared 
and dug up pieces of ground for kitchen-eardens. 
hey cultivated bread-melons and water-melons, let- 
tuces, and other vegetables. ‘They even planted some 
trees, which thrived very well; and; in short, they made 
their place of temporary residence a little paradise as 
compared with the wretched huts and neglected fields 
of the oppressed natives. 
{To be concluded in the next Number.] 


THE PULSE. 


Fivery one knows that among the numerous inquiries 
und examilidtions which precede the prescription of a 
careful physician, the state of the pulse is never omitted ; 
yet as it is probable that few of our readers are ac- 
quainted with the reasons for this inquiry, or, what is 
the same thing, with the facts to be learned from it, we 
think it may not be uninteresting if We enumerate some 
of the inore prominent ones: 

{t is almost unnecessary to premise that by the pulse 
is meant the beat of an artery, and that the one com- 
monly chosen for examination is the radial artery, 
which beats at the wrist. The first point generally 
attended to is the number of the beats; and since in 
this, as in all other medical questions, it is necessary to 
be acquainted with the state of health in order to re- 
cognize any deviation from it, we must mention the 
ordinary frequency of the pulse at different ages. In 
the new-born infant, it is from 130 to 140 in a minute; 
but decreases in frequency as life advances; so that, in 
a iniddle-aged adult in perfect health, it is from 72 to 
75. In the decline of life, it is slower than this, and 
falls to about 60. It is obvious that if we could suppose 
a practitioner ignorant of these plain facts, he would be 
liable to make the most absurd blunders, and might 
imagine a boy of ten to be labouring under some 
grievous disease because his pulse had not the slow 
sobriety of his grandfather’s. A inore likely error is, to 
mistake the influence of some temporary cause for the 
effect of a more permanent disease: thus, in a nervous 
patient, the doctor’s knock at the door will quicken the 
pulse some 15 or 20 beats in a minute. This fact did 
not escape the notice of the sagacious Celsus, who says, 
“The pulse will be altered by the approach of the 
physician and the anxiety of the patient doubting what 
his opinion of the case may be. For this reason, a 
skilful physician will not feel thé pulse as soon as he 
comes; but he will first sit down with a. cheerful 
countenance, and ask how the patient is,—soothing him, 
if he be timorons, by the kindness of his conversation, 
aud afterwards applying his hand to the patient’s arm.” 
—(De Medica, lib. iii. cap. 7.*) 

Granting, however, that these sources of error are 
avoided, the quickness of the pulse will afford most 
important information, If in a person, for example, 
whose pulse is usually 72, the beats rise in number to 
95, some alarming disease is certainly present ; or, on 
the other hand, should it have permanently sunk to 50, 
it is but too probable that the source of the circulation, 


* The lapse of eighteen centuries has not destroyed the utility, 
much less the beauty, of the eight books on Medicine bequeathed 
by Celsus to posterity ; they are unrivalled for perspicuous elegance 
and laconic good sense. Celsus is one of the writers of the Au- 
gustan age, and is worthy of the times in which he flourished, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


63 


the heart itself, is labouring under incurable disease, or 
that some other of the great springs of life is irreme- 
diably injured. ’ 

Supposing, again, the pulse to be 72, each beat 
ought to occur at an interval of five-sixths of a second: 
but should any deviation from this rhythm be perceived, 
the pulse is then said to be irregular. The varieties of 
irregularity are infinite; but there is one so remarkable 
as to deserve particular mention. It will happen some- 
times that the interval between two beats is so much 
longer than was expected, that it would seem that one 
beat had been omitted ; in this case the pulse is said 
to be an intermittent one. When the action of the 
heart is irregular, the beat of the pulse is so likewise ; 
but it will occasionally happen that the latter irrecu- 
larity takes place without the former one, from some 
morbid cause existing between the heart and the wrist. 
It is hardly necessary to observe, that, in all doubtful 
cases, the physician examines the pulsation of the heart 
as well as that at the wrist,—just as :the diligent 
student, discontented with the narrow limits of pro- 
vincial information, repairs to the metropolis to pursue 
his scientific inquiries. ‘ 

he strength or feebleness of the pulse, its hardnes 
or softness, and innumerable other qualities, might be 
discussed here; but, from the great difficulty attending 
any examination of thesé points, and the technicuat 
niceties volved in anything more than a bare mention 
of them, we omit them. There is one point, however, 
which it would be unpardonable to pass over in silence: 
sometimes no pulsation can be felt at the usual part of 
the wrist. ‘his may proceed from so great a languor 
of the circulation that it is imperceptible at the extre- 
mities ; or irom the radial artery (the one usually felt) 
being ossified ; or from an irregular distribution of the 
arteries of the fore-arm. 


The Arrival of the first Elephant ever seen in England. 
—Matthew Paris relates that, about the year 1255, an 
elephant was sent over to England as a grand present from 
the king of France to Henry ILI.; and states, that it was 
believed to be the first and only elephant ever seen in Eng- 
land, or even on this side the Alps; and that consequently 
the people flocked in Pe numbers to behold so great a 
novelty on its arrival. Among the Close Rolls one of about 
this date is extant, in which the sheriff of Kent is ordered to 
proceed to Dover in person to arrange in what manner the 
king’s elephant might be most conveniently brought over ; 
and to provide a ship, and other things necessary, to convey 
it; and directing that, if the king’s mariners judged it 
practicable, it should be brought to London by water. 
Another order was shortly after issued to the sheriffs of 
London, commanding them to cause to be built, without 
delay, in the Tower of London, a house, forty feet in length 
and twenty feet in breadth, for the king’s elephant; and 
directing that it should be so strongly constructed that, 
whenever there should be need, it might be adapted to, and 
used for, other purposes. 


lluminated Printing.—In many of the old printed books, 
the initial letters, and occasionally other parts, were printed 
in red. This was done by two workings at press, and was an 
imitation of the earlier fashion of aduminating manuscripts. 
The practice is still followed in some almanacs, the saints’ 
days and holydays being “ red-letter days.” Some ingenious 
contrivances have been devised for working in various 
colours; and a few years since, a curious book was written 
and published on the subject by Mr. Savage. Still more 
recently, printing in gold and other metals has been practised. 
This is done by printing with a sort of size, and afterwards 
applying the metal leaf. Some very handsome speciuens 
of this have been produced by Messrs. Howlett and Briumer ; 
but, of course, the process is too costly and too tedious cver 
tu enter into competition with common printing, or to be 
used for other than purposes of Juxury. 


ODL) TA 





OLD 


64 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


(Fepruary 15, 1834 


TILBURY FORT. = — 


Tu small village of Tilbury is situated on the Thames, 
about twenty-seven miles from London, aud exactly 
opposite to Gravesend. ae appears to have been a 
place of some consequence in the early period of the 
Sayon dominion in Eneland, having been an episcopal 
seat of Cedda, Bishop of the East Saxons, who, in the 
seventh century, propagated the Christian religion in 
this country, and bmilt churches in several places, but 


especially, as Bede reports, “{in the city which, in the 


lanenage of the Saxous, is called Ythancestre ; and also_ 


in that which: is named Tillabureh (the first of which 
places is'on.the banks of the river Pant, the other on 
the banks of the Thames), where, gathering a flock of 
servants of Christ, he taught them to observe the dis- 
cipline. of ‘a regular life, as far as those rude people 
were then capable.”: ‘Tillaburgh is unquestionably: the 
present Tilbury; but Ythancestre, which appears to 
have stood at the: mouth of the river. Pant, or Black- 
water, is supposed to have been engulphed by the sea. 
The population of West Tilbury was 249 at the last 
celsus. a eae 

A medicinal spring was discovered here in 1727; con- 
sidered very beneficial in cases of hemorrhage, scurvy, 
and.some other disorders. In a chalk hill near this 
place. there are several curious caverns called Danes’ 
Holes: they are constructed of stone, narrow at the 
entrance, and very spacions at the depth of thirty feet. 
The neighbourhood still affords some .traces of the 
camp formed by Queen Elizabeth in 1588, when the 
kingdom was threatened by the Spanish Armada. But 
the most interesting object the place affords is the Fort, 


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!' represented in our engraving. It was originally built 
as a kind of block-house by Henry VIII., but was 
enlarged into a regular fortification by Charles IT., in 
the year 1667, after the Dutch fleet had sailed up the 
river, and burned three English men-of-war at Chatham, 
It was planned by Sir Martin. Beckman, engineer to 
Charles II., by whom the works at Sheerness were also 
designed. ‘The esplanade is very large, and the bastions 
are the largest of any in England. . They are faced with 
brick, and surrounded with a double ditch, or moat, the in- 
| nermost being 180 feet broad, and having a good counter- 
scarp. On the land side, there are two small redoubts 
of brick ; but the chief streneth on this side consists in 
its being able to lay all the adjacent level under water. 
On the side next the river is a very strong curtain, 
having in the middle a strong gate called the Water 
Gate, and the ditch palisaded. At the place intended 
for the water bastion, which was never built, stands a 
high tower, erected by Queen Elizabeth, called the 
Block-house. Various additions have been made to 
this fort since the time of Charles II.; and it is now 
mounted with several formidable batteries; and con- 
tains comfortable barracks and other accommodations 
for the garrison, which consists of a fort-major and a 
detachment of invalids. ss} ; a 
The four Roman proconsular ways crossed each other 
in this vicinity; and there was an ancient ferry over the 
Thames, said to be the place where Claudius passed in 
pursnit of the Britons. The lofty tower of the ancient 
manor-honse of Gossalyne, in East Tilbury, was battered 
down by the Dutch in the reign of Charles II.- | 


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*,° The Oiice of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Liscoln’s Inn Fields. 





LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LODGATE STRENT. 


Printed by Wittram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth 


THE PENNY 





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[English and Scotch Terriers.] 


— 


Tue name of this species of dog seems to be de- 
rived from the peculiar avidity which it exhibits in the 
pursnit of all animals that burrow. There are two 
kinds of terriers, the rough-haired Scotch and the 
smooth English: the former is certainly the purest in 
point of breed, and the latter appears to have been 
produced by a cross from him. 

The Scotch terrier is rather low in stature, rarely 
exceeding more than twelve or fourteen inches in ‘height, 
with a strong, muscular body, and short and stout lees. 
The ears are small and half-pricked ; the head rather 
.arge In proportion to the size of the body,:and the 
muzzle considerably pointed. This species is generally 
of a black or sand colour. The English terrier is a 
handsome, sprightly dog, and generally black on the 
back, sides, upper part of the head, neck, and tail; the 
belly and ‘throat are of a very bright reddish-brown, 
with a spot of the same colour over each eye. The hair 
is short and somewhat glossy, the tail rather truncated, 
and carried slightly upwards ; the ears are small, some- 
what erect, and turned back at the tips; the head is 
small in proportion to the size of the body, and the 
snout is moderately elongated. The English terrier 
varies considerably in size and strength, and is to be 
met with from ten to eighteen inches in height. 

Both species are so similar in their habits and powers, 
that they may be described without minute discrimina- 
tion. 


The smell of the terrier is exceedingly acute; and, 
Vou, II. 


from its expertness in forcing foxes and other game out 
of their coverts, it is an indispensable attendant on 
every pack of hounds: in this employment, from its 
ereater lightness and length of leg, the English terrier 
is better able than the Scotch to keep up with the 
pack. It is of considerable service to man from its 
great hostility to rats, polecats, mice, and other such 
animals.’ The extraordinary power of the terrier in the 
destruction of rats was strikingly shown inthe exhibition 
of the “‘ Dog Billy,” who is said to have killed a hun- 
dred in five minutes. Even the badger, though a for- 
midable quadruped, it encounters with great: courage, 
and not often without success, though it seldom fails to 
suffer severely in such engagements.’ To the fox’as well 
as the badger it is an implacable enemy, and pursues 
every kind of game secreted in subterraneous retreats 
with more ardour than any other dog. ‘The huntsmen 
are very particular in their selection of terriers for a fox- 
hunting establishment: their size is not so much re- 
garded as their strength and spirit. The black and 
black-tanned, or rough, wire-haired pied, are generally 
preferred. White in a terrier is,said to indicate impurity 
of breed; and those inclining to a reddish colour are 
also considered objectionable by sportsmen. 

The following anecdotes, the first relating to the 
Scotch, and the other to the English, terrier, are taken 
from Brown’s ‘ Anecdotes of Dogs.’—‘‘ At Dunrobin 
castle, in Sutherlandshire, the seat of the Marchioness 


of Stafford, there was, in May 1820, to be seen a terrier 


K 


66 | : , J 


bitch nursing a brood of ducklings.- She had had a 
litter of whelps a few weeks before, which were taken 
from her and drowned. ‘The unfortunate mother was 
quite disconsolate till she pereeived the brood of duck- 
lings, which’ she immediately seized and carned to her 
Jair, where she retained them, following them out and 
in with the greatest attention, and nursing them after 
her own fashion with the. most affectionate anxiety. 
When the duckhngs, following their natural instinct, 
went into the water, their foster-mother exlibrted the 
utmost alarm ; and as soon as they returned to land, she 
snatched them up in her mouth and ran home with them. 
What adds to the singularity of the circumstance is, 
that the same animal, when deprived of a litter of pup- 
pies the year following, seized two cock chickens, which 
she reared with the like care she bestowed on her own 
family. When the young cocks began to try their 
voices, their foster-mother was as much aunoyed as she 
formerly. seemed to be by the swimming of the duck- 
lings, and never failed to repress their attempts at 
crowing.” 

The following anecdote, related by Mr.’Blaine, is a 
pleasing proof of canine sagacity, and occurred in the 
parish of Marylebone, London :—‘* A servant had care- 
lessly left .a child, four years old, alone, whose cap 
cav@ht fire from a candle with which she was amusing 
herself. A small terrier, observing the situation of the 
ciuld, ran-up stairs to the room where the servant was, 
antl baiked most vehemently, nor would he cease till 
she came down, by which assistance was obtained. Had 
it not :been for the intelliwence of the dog, the poor 
child, instead of being. only slightly scorched, would 
most .probably have lost its life; for the aecident hap- 
pened in the kitcnen, and the domestic left in charge 
of it had gone to the very top of the house, out of the 
reach even of the cries of the infant.” | 


THE OBELISK OF LUXOR. 
[Concluded from No. 129.} 


in: the first volume of the ‘ British Museum,’ which 
contains some brief notices on Meyptian antiquities, 
the reader will find a description of obelisks generally, 
togéther with their history, and a particular account of 
those of Luxor. The latter account, and a‘view of the 
said -obelisks, and part of the magnificent temple of 
Luxor, before which they stood, have also been given 
in No. 14 of the ‘ Penny Magazine. Referring our 
readers, then, to that description and that engraving, 
we need only add on the present occasion that it was the 
smaller of the two obelisks the French had to remove. 
But this smaller column of hard, heavy granite was 
72 French feet high, and was calculated to weigh 
upwards of 240 tons“. It stood, moreover, at the dis- 
tance of about 1200 feet from the Nile, and the inter- 
vening space presented many difficulties. 

M. Lebas, the engineer, commenced by making an 
inclinedsplane, extending from the base of the obelisk 
to the edge of the river. This work occupied nearly 
all the French sailors and about 700 Arabs during three 
months, for they were obliged to cut through two hills 
of ancient remains and rubbish, to demolish half of the 
poor villages which lay in their way, and to beat, equa- 
lize, and render firm, the uneven; loose, and crumbling: 
soil. This done, the engineer proceeded to make the 
ship ready for the reception of the obelisk. The vessel 
had been left aground by the periodical fall of the 
waters of the Nile, and matters had been so managed 
that she lay imbedded in the sand; with her figure-head 
pointing directly towards the temple and the granite 
eolumn. ‘The engineer, taking care not to touch the 
keel, sawed off a transverse and complete section of the 
‘ * According to M, Angelin, the other obelisk is three French 
fect higher, ; 


\THE PENNY MAGAZINE, | _ 


was to sli 
‘smooth, an 
run the easier. 


-[Fespruary 22, 


front of the:ship;—in short, he cut away her bows, 
which were raised, and kept suspended above the place 
they properly occupied by means of pulleys and some 
strong spars, which crossed each other above the vessel. 

The ship, thus opened, presented in front a large 
mouth to receive its cargo, which was to reach the very 
lip of that mouth or opening, by sliding down the 
inclined plane. When this section of the ship was 
effected, they took care that she should lie equally on 
her keel; and where the sand or mud was weak, or 
had fallen away from the vessel, they supplied proper 
supports and props to prevent the great weight of the 
column from breaking her back. The preparations for 
bringing the obelisk safely down to the ground lasted 


from the 11th of July to the 3lst of October, when it 
was laid horizontally on its side. 


The rose-coloured granite of Syene (the material of 
these remarkable works of ancient art), though exceed- 
ingly hard, is rather brittle. By coming in contact 
with other substances, and by being impelled along the 
inclined plane, the beautiful hieroglyphics sculptured 


on its surface might have been defaced, and the obelisk 


might have suffered other injuries. ‘Yo prevent these, 
M. Lebas encased it, from its summit to its base, in 
strong thick wooden sheathings, which were well secured 
to the column by means of hoops. ‘The western face 
of this covering, which was that upon which the obelisk 
down the inclined plane, was rendered 
was well rubbed with erease to make it 





The mechanical eontrivance to lower the column, 
which was by far the most critical part of these opera- 
tions, is described as having been very simple. A 
cable of immense strength was attached to.a strong 
anchor deeply sunk in the earth, and well secured at 
some distance from the monument. ‘This cable was 
carried forward and made fast to the top of the obelisk, 
and then descending in an acute angle in the.rear of 
the obelisk, the cable was retained in an opposite direc- 
tion to the anchor by means of an eviormous -beam of 
wood, and by a series of pulleys and. capstans. 'The © 
column had been perfectly cleared from the sand and 
earth round its base, and walls of a certain height 
erected to keep it in the proper line of descent. Other 
works at its base prevented the column from sliding 
backwards in its descent, and a strone bed made of 
oak, and immediately connected with the inclined plane, 
was ready to receive.it, and pass it to the plane when 
it reached a certain low angle of declination. 

‘Lo move so lofty and narrow an object from its centre 
of gravity was no difficult task,—but then came the 
moment of intense anxiety! The whole of the enormous 
weight bore upon the cable, the cordage, and ma- 
chinery, which quivered and cracked in all their parts. 
Their tenacity, however, was equal to the strain, and so 
ingeniously were the mechanical powers applied, that 
eight men in the rear of the descending column were 
sufficient to accelerate or retard its descent. For two 
minutes the obelisk was suspended at an angle of 30°, 
—hbut, finally, it sank majestically and in perfect safety 
to the bed of the inclined plane. 

On the following day the much less difficult task of 
metting the obelisk on board the ship was performed. 
It only occupied an hour and a half to drag the column 
down the inclined plane, and (through the open mouth 
in front) into the hold of the vessel. ‘The section of 
the suspended bows was then lowered to the proper 
place, and readjusted and secured as firmly as ever by 
the carpenters and other workmen. So nicely was 
this important part of the ship sliced off, and then put 
to a~ain, that the mutilation was scarcely perceptible. 

The obelisk, as we have seen, was embarked on the 
ist of November, 183], but it was not until the 18th 
of August, 1832, that the annual rise of the Nile 





834.) 


afforded sufficient water to float their long-stranded 


ship. At last, however, to their infinite joy, they were 
ordered to prepare everything for the voyagve home- 
wards. As soon as this was done, sixty Arabs were 
engaged to assist'in getting them down the river (a 
distance of 180 leagues), and the Louxor set sail. 
After thirty-six days of painful navigation, but with- 
ont meeting with any serious accident, they reached 
Rosetta; and there they were obliged to stop, because 
the sand-bank off that mouth of the Nile had accumn- 
ated to such a degree, that, with its present cargo, the 
vessel could not clear it. Fortunately, however, on 
the 30th of December, a violent hurricane dissipated 


part of this sand-bank; and, on the Ist of January, . 


1833, at ten o'clock in the morning, the Louxor shot 
safely out of the Nile, and at nine o’clock on the fol- 
lowing morning came to a secure anchorage in the eld 
harbour of Alexandria. 


Flere they awaited the return of the fine season 
for navigating the Mediterranean; and the “Sphynx | 


(a French man-of-war) taking the’ Louxor in tow, 
they sailed from Alexandria on the Ist of April. On 
the 2nd, a storm commenced, whieh kept the Louxor 
in imminent danger for.two whole days. 
this storm abated ; ‘but the wind continued contrary, 
and soon announced a fresh” tempest. 'They-had just 
time to run for shelter into the bay of Marmara when 
the storm became more furious than ever. ‘ 

On the 13thof April they a@wain weighed anchor, and 
shaped their course for Malta; but a-wviolent contrary 


wind drove them back as far as the Greek island of 


Milo, where they were detained -two days.’ Sailing, 
however, on the 17th, they reached +:Navarino on the 
18th, and the port of Corfu, where, they say, they were 
kindly received by Lord Nugent and the British, on 
the 23d of April. Between. Corfu and Cape Sparti- 
vento, heavy seas and high winds caused the Touxor 
to labour and strain exceedingly. As soon, however, 
as they reached the coast of Italy, the sea became calm, 
and a light breeze carried them forward, at the raie of 
four laiots an hour,-to ‘Toulon, where they anchored 
during the evening of the llth of May. 

"They had now reached the port whence they had de- 
parted, but their voyage was not yet finished. ‘There 
is no carriage by water, or by any other commodious 
means, for-so heavy and cumbrous a mass as an Heyp- 
tian obelisk, from Toulon to Paris (a distance of above 
450 miles). To meet this difficulty they must descend 
the rest of the Mediterranean, pass nearly the whole of 
the southern coast of iF tdnee. and -all the south ‘of 
Spain—sail through the Straits of Gibraltar, and tra- 
verse part of the. Atlantic, as far as the mouth of the 
Seine, which river affords a communication between 
the I*rench capital and the ocean. 

Accordingly, on ‘the 22d of June,. they sailed from 
Toulon, the Louxor being again taken in tow by the 
Sphynx -inman-of-war ; and, “after experiencing’ some 
stormy weather, finally reached Cherbourg on the 5th 
of August,. 1833. ‘The whole distance performed ‘in 
this voyage was upwards of fourteen hundred leagues. 

As the royal family of France-was expected at Cher- 
bourg by:the 31st of August, the authorities detained 
the Louxoi there.* On the 2d of september, King 
louis Philppe paid a visit to thé vessel, and warmly 
expressed -his satisfaction to the officers and crew. He 
was the first to inform M. Verninac,:the commander, 
that he was promoted’ to the rank of captain of a sloop- 
of-war. On the following day, the-king distributed 
decorations of the legion of honour to the officers, and 
entertained them at dinner. 

Lhe Louxor, again towed by the rom left Cher- 
beurg on the 12th of September, and safely reached 
Llavre de Grace, at the mouth of the Seine. Tere 


her old companion, the Sphynx, which-drew too: much’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


On the 6th, 


G7 


water to be able to ascend the -river, left her, and -she 
was taken in tow by the Héva steam-boat. ‘To con- 
clude with the words of our author: ‘ At six o’clock 
(on the 13th) our vessel left the sea for ever, and 
entered the Seine. By noon we had cleared all the 
banks and impediments of the lower part of the mver ; 
and, on the 14th of September, at noon, we arrived at 
Rouen, where the Louxor was made fast before the 
quay d'Harcourt. Here we must remain until the 
autumnal rains raise the waters of the Seine, and permit’ 
us to transport to Paris this pyramid,—the object of 
our expedition.” ‘This event has since happened, and 
the recent French papers announced that the Louxor 
would be shortly received into a cradle constructed for 
its reception. 

On some future occasion we will eive an aceount of 
the landing and erecting the L:gyptian column at Paris. 





BEAUVAIS. 


Beauvais is a city of France, the capital of the depart- 
ment of the Oise, situated upon the Thérain, in a valley 
surrounded by woody: hills. The site of Beauvais was 
occupied, in very remote times, by a city, which is men- 
tioned in the ‘ Commentaries of Cesar’ by the name of 
Cesaro-magus, and which it afterwards dropped for 
that of Bellovacum, derived:from a Belgian people, the 
Bellovaci, by whom.-it was inhabited. It was ravaged 
by the Normans in the year-850, and at other periods ; 
and ‘few cities have experienced more calamities and 
frequent fires than Beauvais, The town still exuJts in 
the glory of having sustained two.very formidable sieges 
without being taken. ‘The first of these was in the year 
1443,-when the English -were repulsed: by the devoted 
heroism of Jean Signiére ; the second was in i472, when 
Charles the Bold, “Duke: of Burg oeundy, unsuccessfully 
besieged it with 80,000 men. On this occasion, the 
females of Beauvais, headed by Jane Hachette, joined 
the garrison and fought with uncommon intrepidity. 
This heroine herself, of one occasion, seized the flag 
which the enemy were about to plant on the walis, and 
threw from the rampart the soldier by whom it was 
carried.. The assailants were: obliged to withdraw. 
Until the revolution, this: event was annually comme- 
morated, on the 10th of July, by a procession, in which 
the women marched first. 

The cathedral church-of Beauvais, the south front of 
which is represented in our engraving, is the principal 
architectural ornament of the town. ‘The building was 
commenced in the year 1391. It is particularly noted 
for its choir, which is regarded as a master-piece of Gothic 
architecture, being as “much: admired for its height and 
breadth as for the liehtness- of the work and the fine 
arrangement of the vault and its outworks, It has ten 


pillars on each side of its length, with chapels aul 


around. The pavement of the sanctuary, which is very 
larwe, is all‘ of marble. This magnificent building: 
seems never to have Ween: finislied. The nave is in- 
complete, aud there are neither towers-nor apparent 
belfmes. The church possesses, nevertheless, some 
ereat bells, which are placed ii .a separate building, 
about fifteen paces from the>front' entrance; Near the 
cathedral there are four small collegiate churches’ which 
are distinguished as “* the four daughters of St. Peter,’ 
to which saint the cathedral is dedicated. Our avood.- 
cut represents the South Front of the Cathedral.. It 
can only be viewed from-a very narrow street-;- but its 
magnificent dimensions, and-its elaborate ornaments, 
afford a remarkable specimen of: -the’ ecclesiastical 
architecture of France. 
Besides the cathedral, there are few buildings at 
pcan vals that claim particular notice. ‘The Town-hall 
a fine edifice, and contains a picture representing the 
heroic action of Jane Hachette. There is one large 


K 2 


638 


hospital, a communal college, a public library contain- 
ing 6000 volumes, a cabinet - of natural history, and a 
The place possesses'some consi- 
derable manufactures, ‘principally of rich tapestries, 


hall for exhibitions. 


serves, and woollen cloth, which give it a: pas paint 
The population is 12, 800. 


trade. - 





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THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


69 


a." ee, - STONEHENGE. 


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ARES pete MA MER OAS eta gee 
- = v | _ [Remains of Stonehenge. } 
STONEHENGE is the most remarkable ancient monument The building’ stands in the centre of this circular 


now remaining inthis island ; nor indeed is there known 
anywhere to exist so stupendous an erection of the same 
character.’ Even in ‘its preserit -half-ruined state, the 
venerable pile retains a majesty that strikes, at the first 
glance, both the most refined and ‘the rudest eye: and 
the admiration of the beholder grows and expands as a 
more distinct conception of: the original plan of the 
structure gradually unfolds itself from amidst the ir- 
regular and confused mixture of the standing and the 
fallen portions which for a short time’ perplexes the 
contemplation. It is then felt to be the produce, not 
only of great power and skill, but of a grand idea. 

The situation is a highly commanding one. Stone- 
henge stands at a short distance north-west from the 
town of Amesbury, on the brow: of one of those, broad 
and gentle elevations which in many places’slightly un-. 
dulate the vast level of Salisbury Plain. . The turnpike-, 
road from Amesbury to Shrewton, running in a north-. 
west direction, passes close by it. It rises on the tra-. 
veller’s left as he. proceeds from Amesbury, and is ap- 
proached by a short.avenue, marked: by. the traces of a 
ditch on each side. ‘The direction of this avenue is: 
from north-east to south-west, and it- has . been ‘crossed 
obliquely by the turnpike-road. . It appears to have. 
formed the only entrance to the enclosure in which the 
building stands, which is formed by .a circular ditch, 
three hundred and sixty-nine yards in circumference,’ 
and having a slight rampart on the inner side. It has 
been supposed. that, besides. this, there were two other 
entrances: but both Dr. Stukeley and Sir Richard Colt 
Hoare, whose descriptions of Stonehenge are the fullest 
and most careful that have been published, and between 
whom there is a perfect agreement in all material points, 
are decidedly of opinion that these breaks in the ditch 
have been made in modern times, probably to allow the 
passage of the carts, by which so many of the stones 
have been carried away. 


area. An outer circle: of enormous upright blocks, 
having others placed upon’ them, as the lintel of a’door 
is placed: upon ‘the side-posts, so as to form a kind of 
architrave, has enclosed a ‘space of a hundred feet in 
diameter. :’ The upright: stones in this circle had been 
originally thirty in number, ‘but only seventeen of them 
are now standing. ‘The portion of the circle facing the 
north-east is still tolerably entire; and ‘the doorway at 
the termination of the avenue may be said to be-in per- 
fect preservation. It consists of two upright stones, 
each thirteen feet in height,and between six aud sever 
in breadth, with a third block placed over them, of 
about: twelve feet in length, and two feet cight inches in 
depth.: The space between the two posts is five feet, 
which: is rather a wider interval than occurs between 
any two of the other pillars. Throughout the circle the 
broad side ‘of the’stone is‘placed in the line of the cir- 
cumference,' so that there must have been inore of wali 
than of open space in the proportion of about six and x 
half.to five. The imposts are fixed upon the uprights 
throughout -by the contrivance called a tenon and: mor- 
tise; the ends of the uprights being hewn into tenons 
or projections, and corresponding hollows “being ex 
cavated in the imposts. ‘They are oval or ewe-shaped. 
Of course there are two tenons on each upright, and two 
mortises in each of the imposts, which dre of thé same 
number with the uprights.) The principal workmanship 
must have been bestowed: upon these fittings: for althougly 
the marks of the hewer’s tool are visible upon the other 
parts of the stones, their surface has been left, upon the 
whole, rude and irregular. They ‘are made to taper 
little towards the top; but even in this respect ‘they are 
not uniform. | i | 
Within this great circle is another, formed by stones 
not only much.smaller, but also much ruder in their 
outline. Of these there had originally been forty, but 
only twenty of them can now be traced, This circle 


10 


has never had any imposts: it is about eighty-four feet 
in diameter, and, consequently, the interval between it 
and the outer circle is eight feet. 

The next enclosure has been formed of only ten 
stones, but they are of very majestic height, exceeding 
even that of those in the outer circle. They have been 
disposed in five pairs, and in the form of a half oval, 
or rather of a horseshoe; the upper part facing the 
north-east, or the great door. The two pairs at the 
terminations of the curve, which are distant from each 
other about forty feet, are each sixteen feet three 
inches high; but the height of the next two pairs Is 
seventeen feet two inches; and that of the last pair, 
the station of which had been directly facing the open- 
ing, was twenty-one feet and a half. A striking effect 
must have been produced by this ascending elevation. 
A variety and a lightness must have also been given to 
the structure by the arrangement of the stones here ; 
not at equal distances, as in the two exterior rows, but 
in pairs, the interval between each two pairs being 
much greater than that between the two stones compos- 
ing@ each pair. 
over them, as in the outer circle.’ One of these imposts 
is sixteen feet three inches long. Of course the im- 
posts here, not forming a continuous architrave, are 
only five in number. Of the five pairs, or rather dri- 
lithons (that is, combinations of three stones), although 
some of the shafts have been injured and mutilated, all 
are still in their places, except the fifth, or that which 
faced the entrance. ‘This trilithon fell down on the 3rd 
of January, 1797, and the stones now encumber a flat 
stone, of about fifteen feet in length, which lay at their 
base. 

Lastly, there appears to have been a fourth en- 
closure, formed originally, as Stukeley thinks, by nine- 
teen stones, but only eleven now remain, entire or In 
fragments. These seem also to have been arranged 
in the shape of a half oval, with the open. part, as in 
the case of the other, to the north-east. Although 
ereatly inferior in height to those last described, they 
are still taller than those of the second circle. The 
most perfect, according to Sir R. C. Hoare, is seven 
and a half feet high, and twenty-three inches wide at 
the base, and twelve at thetop. Like the second circle, 
this row has never had any imposts. 

Such is Stonehenge, as it still subsists ; and in so far 
as the original design of the fabric can be traced from 
the portions of it which the waste of time has left, the ap- 
propriateness of the name, Stonehenge, which 1s Saxon, 
and signifies “the Hanging Stones,” will be obvious 
enough from the account that has been given. But 
little doubt can be entertained that it is not a Saxon 
building. It is unquestionably the work of an age long 
preceding that in which the Saxons first obtained a 
footing in this island. Inigo Jones, in a posthumous 
work, has actually maintained the theory that it is a 
Roman erection—a temple of the god Coolus, he 
conceives. A more absurd notion never was taken up. 
It would be much more rational to say that it was a 
work of nature;—a piece of architecture which had 
crown up where it stands, like the Giant’s Causeway, 
or the Cave at Staffa. Stonehenge certainly resembles 
these structures quite as much as it does any thing the 
Romans have left us. The old popular tradition, re- 
corded by Giraldus Cambrensis and other chroniclers, 
was, that the stones had been brought to the place 
where they now are, and elevated into the air as we see 
them, by the great magician Merlin, from the Curragh 
of Kildare in Ireland. It is not impossible that the 
design may have been taken from a similar building 
on that great plain, where Giraldus Cambrensis says, 
that an erection like Stonehenge was actually to be seen 
in his day. He calls Stonehenge, Chorea Gigantium, 
the Giants’ Danee. Among modern speculators, some, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The uprights of this row have: 1mposts 


[Fepruary 22, 


also, have attrrbuted it to the Danes; but, since the 
publication of Stukeley’s book (1740), opinion has 
almost universally been made up in favour of his theory, 
that it is a Druidical temple of the ancient Britons. 
Of late, certain other hypotheses have been engrafted 
upon this general idea :—as, for instance, that it had 
an astronomical as well as a religious aim; but 
these are to be considered as rather developments 
than refutations of Stukeley’s view. Astronomy was 
the soul of the Druidical religion, and may very_pos- 
sibly have influenced the form of the temples as wel 
as the worship. But there is little chance that we 
shali be able, in the present day, to recover any correct 
knowledge of the principles of this astronomical archi- 
tecture. 

One difficulty in the subject of Stonchenge has given 
rise to much discussion ;—F rom whence were the stones 
brought? According to Sir Rk. C. Hoare, in his mag- 
nificent work entitled the ‘ Ancieat History of South 
Wiltshire,’ (fol. Lon. 1812) the stones forming the 
outer circle-and the fine trilithons of the grand oval 
are of the same. kind with those which are found in 
different parts of the surface of the Wiltshire Downs, 
and are there called Sarsei Stones, by which are meant 
stones taken from the native quarry in their rude state. 
They are a fine-grained species of silicious sandstone, 
Those forming the smaller circle, and the smaller oval 
again, are quite different. Some are an aggregate of 
quartz, feldspar, chlorite, and hornblende; one is 
a silicious schist; others are hornstone, intermixed with 
small specks of feldspar and pyrites. Whiat-is called 
the altar, being the stone now covered by’ the central] 
trilithon of the grand oval, is a micaceous fine-grained 
sandstone. J‘rom these circumstances, Mr. Cunnington 
first very ingeniously started the conjecture that the 
original temple had probably consisted only of the 
great circle.and the: great oval, and that the two othet 
rows were subsequent additions. In a-late publication, 
entitled ‘ Hermes Britannicus,’ (1828,) the Rev. W. 
L. Bowles has taken up this idea,-but has given it a 
new form, by supposing the lower stones to: have formed: 
the original temple, and the taller to have been -after- 
wards added. He has connected this view with some 
very curious speculations as to the religion of the 
ancient inhabitants of Britain; for which, however, we 
must refer the reader to his work. 

Our wood-cut represents Stonehenge as seen from 
the south. 


PROFESSIONS AND TRADES OF THE 
METROPOLIS. 


Tue table given in No. 118 of the * Penny Magazine’ 
distinguished the employments in which about 45,400 
estublishments are engaged. ‘Those were employments 
connected with the larger objects of production and 
the more important professions. The present list adds 
7000 to this amount; and there are about 2200 en- 
gvaged in 218 employments which our limits have not 
allowed us to include in either lst. “Thus a total is 
obtained of about 54,700 establishments, considered 
‘“‘ respectable” by the: compilers of the lists we have 
employed. 

Since the preceding list went to press, we have been 
informed that there are not less than 800 “ artists” 
practising in the metropolis; but the discrepancy may 
be accounted for by the fact, that a large proportion of 
artists prefer the heht and air of the suburbs to the 
close streets. Generally, we would be understood as 
claiming no more for the tables than that they exhibit 
approximations, and afford materials for comparison. 


: 3 


AnatomicaL Mechanists: .. « « . . 
Anchorsmiths and Chain-cable manufacturers yr 
Ag@imefrreseryers .°. os ke se 4 
Archery Warehouses . 2. «+6 «6 © ¢ £1 


1834,} 


THE 


Army Clothiers (20), and (16) Cap and Ac- 
coutrement Makers. . = 
Artificial Kye (3), aud Limb Makers. . wae 
0 gS OS. 
Aurists .  . a. sf. 
Ball and Rout firnitvers —. as 
Basket Mukers e e e- e 6 @ ® Ps ® 
Bellows Makers .  . re. 
Birmingham and Eleftield a -_ 
Blacking Manufacturers . . « + « -« 
B tack-lead Pencil Manufacturers . . ~- « 
Blind (window) Makers . . . «© « «© 
. Brace and Belt Makers ie ... 
Brass and Copper Manufacturers. . . . 
Breeches Makers . . os 
Button Manufacturers and WW Hretiouses — 
Calico-Glazers (6), and Calico and Furniture 
Pravters . < ° 
Cap Makers, (fur, cloth. and leather) . - 
Card Makers . 


® e e e ® ® e 2 


Carmen . . 
Carpet and Rug Manufacturers and Ware- 
houses. ff. ieee 


_, Chair and Sofa Vieadlietieors) a. ae 


Chasers . Pedi ms. » 
Child-bed Linen “Warehouses a. ews 
Clothiers and Clothes Salesmen . . 
Colour Manufacturers and Dealers (exclusive 
of those who are Oilmen also) . . « « 
Comb Makers . Foal 
Composition Ornasient Manufacturers . 
Cork Manufacturers . . . « «© «© « 
CupperSssnnc .« Pier s. © 
Curners, Leather Cutters, Be. i a 
Dressing Case and Desk Makers . . . . 
Oe ee lll lle 
Eeg Merchants. 
Knyine Makers, (Fire 5, Steam 2, Hy draulic 1) 


Farriers .  . — sf 
Feather Manufacturers (1 Bed) . ) 
Filter Manufacturers . . —, 


ishing Rod and Tackle Manufacturers J. 
Flatting Mills. 
Floor Cloth Manufacturers . . . « . 
French Horn and Trumpet Manufacturers 
I'ringe, Bedlace, Trimming, &c., Manufacturers 
Furriers .. - 
Gniiders (W ater and Book-ed ge) . m2. 
Ginger Beer (13), Soda and Mineral Water 
Manufacturers (ZO) . ‘ ‘ 
Glass Manufacturers, Warchouses, and Cutters 
Globe Makers a 6 % ® e * e e e 
Glovers . . ° 
Gold Cutters, Gold ‘and Silver Beaters, Re- 
Dee es lw ll ltl 
Memory meepers | 2 lw lw lw lt ll 
Mrunpowderwianetad =. 6 ee lw ll 
Geear Wromudacirerosy Gy’. 2 ee 
Ham and Tongue Dealers. . 
Hamess Makers . , 
EWanp Mealeere ww lw lll 
Herbalists .. 
Importers (of Beads 5, Carpets 1, Cigars 15, 
Cocoa-uuts 2, Foreign Clocks and Watches 
4, Foreign Fancy Goods 27, Foreign Silk 
Goods 15, Geneva Watch Tools and Ma- 
terials 2, Glass Shades 1, Leeches 5, Mi- 
neral Waters 1, Shawls i ‘Tobacco-pipes 
and Snuff boxes 2, Toys 7, Wines 3) in 
Lamp I Manufactories and Warehouses a. 
Lapidaries . co 8 
Last, Boot-tree, ta Patten Makers aa 
Lead Manufacturers . . . - ss 
Lightermen. . eee 2h ete 
Locksmiths and Bell- hangers : c 
Looking-glass and Pictnre Frame Makers . 
Manele and Press Makers . .. . 
Map ‘and Chart Publishers and Sellers... 
Marine St es, and Rag and Phial Dealers . 
Mast, Oar and Block Makers . .. « © «© 
Medallists ee a ce 
a ne, 
Mineralogists 2 . « © © «© « « - 
Modellers . . , =a 
Needle and Pin fiaters ee Cf 
emists. . 

Outfitting and "Ready-made aan Ware- 
oo itty PnP 
Paper Makers . . ' 
Paper Marblers and Faricy Paper Makers. 
ee eee ee 


® e t @ ® @ 


PENNY MAGAZINE. 71 


36 


92 

1 
30 
33 


174 
4 


76 


117 


AYA 
66 
A6 
12 
ai 


Percussion Cap Manufacturers’... 2 
ineimerdt “a 2. ee ee. 6S O84 
Pewterers . . salle xe 9 
Plaster of Paris Manufactuxers Sie, 6 
Plate (British) Manufacturers° . . . 3 
Pea Dente , . s we es ee le Od 
Potters feo . ee 14 
Printing Press Makers my. Se Bis. . Q 
Print-sellers and Publishers . . . 6. 62 
Pump Makers . . . ee . 
Roman Cement Mariufacttirers ——— ©. ZO 
Rope, Line and Twine Manufacturers. . 70 
Sail and Sail Cloth Makers and Wartelifises 84 
maw iis . . . a el 
Scagliola Manufacturers... . : 9 
Scale Makers . . 40 


Ship Breakers 9, Carvers. 6, ‘Chandlers 40, 
Hearth and Tank Makers 4, Joiners 8, 


Owners 30, Smiths]1 . . . . wm LOS 
Short-hand Writers fl ae dies 
SOS Sr re 3) 
Soap Manufacturers . . . . 2 «© « AQ 


Dperwmiomianers . 2. 1 ew ltl CG 
Statuariesand Masons . . . .. . 161 


Steam-engine Boiler Manufacturers . . , 8 
Sugar Refiners . . ae: 68 
Surgeons’ Instrument Makers : ot 
Tanners . eS 50 
Timber and ae — =. &€ae com §) 
Tin-plate Workers . . oom eee 204 


Tool Makers and Rue ehouses a eer |!) 
eh ug eS bs 
pe 
drunk Wie, lw lw lk lt lt lt lt C!S 
iimee Blagleaaee kl ll lls 33 
Turners . . ; se Or. as 0 
Umbrella and Brsol Makers : «gan LOS 
Varnish Manufacturers . . . .. . 31 
Veterinary Surgeons .. ‘or 
Violin and Violincello Makers , eS a 15 
Warehouses (16 French). . . . . . 187 
PE Sr i | 
soi gg 2 rr a bs 
VYieeakeiee. 0. se. e elUeCUOD 


Wig Makers . . Ek 9 
Wie Drawers, Workers, a ~~ a re” 
Wool Staplers... — oe = 2} 
Worsted @oemiiclarers ———  , ls ee 
Ue PCrnete +. ue te ee 7 
AUSCULTATION*. 


From the earliest ages physicians have known that 
disedse in the cavity of the chest might occasionally be 
detected by the ear; but it was not “till about seventy 
years ago that any express rules were laid down upon 
this subject. The merit of being the first methodical 
auscultator is due to Dr. Avenbrugger, a physician of 
Vienna, who published a short treatise on this subject 
in the year 1761. It is written in Latin, and is en- 
titled, ‘A New Discovery of the Art of Detecting 
Diseases in the Interior of the Chest by Percussion. 
When the chest of the patient is struck by the fingers 
of the physician, if it is healthy, it gives a sound, says 
Dr. Avenbrugger, like that of a drum covered with 
cloth ; whereas, if it is diseased, the sound produced Is 
as if solid flesh had been struck. 

In performing this examination, the chest of the 
patient must be covered with his shirt, or else the fin- 
gers of the physician with a glove, which must not be 
made of glossy leather; for if the bare chest is struck 
with the bare hand, the concussion of smooth surfaces 
produces an external sound which obscures the internal 
one. The following eight general rules are clear, cor- 
ra and well- expressed : — 

. The duller the sound is over the chest, and the 
nearer it approaches the sound of solid flesh, the 
vreater is the disease. 

2. The larger the space over which this dulness 
extends, the oveater is the disease. 


* This word signifies listening ; but, in medicine, means the art 


1 of distinguishing diseases by tlie sense of hearing. 


72 


8 It is worse for the left side to be affected than the 
right. * . : , 

4, It is less dangerous that the front and upper part 
of the chest (viz., from the collar-bone to the fourth 
tib) should be destitute of sound than the lower part. 

5. It is more dangerous that the sound be absent in 
the posterior part of the thorax than in the front and 
upper part. © | ' 

(This rule is evidently the same as the last, in diffe- 
rent words. | 

6. If one side of the chest is entirely destitute of 
sound, it isa fatal sigu.  - aa : 

7. If the ‘sternum (viz., the front and central part 
of the chest) is without sound, it is a fatal sign. . 

8. If the place which the heart occupies gives the 
sound of solid flesh over a great space, it is a fatal sign. 

The reason of the last rule is this :—-the heart, from 
its solidity, produces a loss of resonance over the space 
which it occupies; and, therefore, a great extension of 
this dulness shows.a great enlargement of the heart,— 
an incurable disease. 

When there is fluid’ in the chest there will be a loss 
of resonance; just as there is when the lungs, having 
lost their natural spongy texture, have become solid,— 
a disease whieh Avenbruger calls schirrus of the lungs ; 
but which is now ‘termed hepatization, from hepar, the 
Greek word for liver. Percussion, however, will almost 
always succeed in determining. whether the loss of 
sound is produced. by the -presence. ofa fluid or by 
hepatization; for, in the former case, the ‘patient, by 
altering his ‘aititude, will change the position of the 
fluid, and thus transfer the dulness of sound from one 
spot to another; but. this ingenious method of discri- 
inating: the: nature of the: disease will, of course, fail 
in those rate cases in ‘which one side of the chest is 


entirely filled with fluid, © 7 = 
Dr. : Avenbrugger’s. little manual is not confined 
solely to the signs afforded by percussion; in‘ many 


instances he‘ gives’ a ‘succinct ‘but masterly outline of 


t 


the general symptoms by which various diseases of the |. 


chest may be recognized. In offering his work, the 
fruit of seven years’ observation, to physicians, he 
remarks, that, in. treating diseases of the chest, the 
sound obtained by percussion is inferior in importance 
only to the pulse ‘and respiration.: -. Avenbrugger’s 
work has never been translated into English ; but there 
is a French version of it by Corvisart, in which the 
brief axioms of the German physician are illustrated, 
and almost overwhelmed, by a most copious com- 
mentary. This translation, however, is a valuable 
work, and an‘ additional step in the art of auscultation. 
With this exception,: but little advance seems to have 
been made from Avenbrugger to Laennec, the dis- 
tinguished inventor of the stethoscope. This is a tube, 
usually made of wood, one end of which is applied to 
the chest of the patient, and the other to the ear of the 
physician. By this contrivance, the sound of the pa- 
tient’s respiration, as well as voice, is transmitted in 
the most distinct manner, and the minutest variations 
from the healthy standard can be distinguished by a 
practised ear. In children, for instance, the sound pro- 
duced by respiration is louder and more acute than in 
adults ; but this acute breathing often occurs in grown- 
up persons, when, one ling being diseased, the other 
is forced to do work for both. It is known among ste- 
thoscopists by the name of puerdle respiration. Or,- let 
us suppose a patient in an advanced stage of consump- 
tion, in whose lungs cavities have been formed by the 
suppuration of tubercles ; if the stethoscope be applied 
to the chest of such a patient when he is speaking, his 
voice will be heard echoing from the cavities in his 
lungs: this morbid resonance is called pectoriloquy. 
Such are a few of the more intereresting points depend- 


ing on auscultation, a subject on which large volumes | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{FEBRUARY 22, 1634. 


not only might be, but have been, written. In com- 
paring the methods of Avenbrugger and Laennec, we 
must acknowledge that, if percussion is more simple, 
the stethoscope affords more information; but then 
this advantage is perhaps counterbalanced by the ex. 
treme difficulty of its application; a difficulty so grea’ 
as not always to be surmounted by years of study. It 
is for this cause that we have touched but slightly on 
the use of the stethoscope, or chest-viewer, as we 
thought it needless to perplex general readers with 
refined distinctions which harass the scientific, and even 
left Laennec himself sometimes at fault. 

We touch upon subjects of this nature principally 
to show by what slow steps the knowledge of diseases 
has advanced,—what slight symptoms indicate healthy 
or deranged functions,—how delicate are the tests 
which ‘they present, even to the most practised phy- 
sician,—and how contemptible, therefore, are’, those 
pretensions which would. make the medical science 


cousist in a few empirical rules, applied with little 


observation; and less philosophy: 


: 4 

Persecution of the Jews.—Among the details of wrong 
and outrage, .by which. the study of history is frequently 
rendered painful, few are more revolting than the massacres 
and persecutions of the Jews by the Anglo-Norman ‘kings, 
Besides the more general and shocking transactions of this 
character which: historians record, many old documents 
exhibit evidences of local persecution which are as curious 
as they are révolting. In illustration may be quoted the 


order issued, in 1255, by Henry III. to the sheriff of Norfolk 


and Suffolk, who is commanded “ to cause proclamation to 


be made in the city of Norwich, and in all the good towns 


of those counties, that no Christian woman shall henceforth 
serve the Jews, to.nurse their young.children, or in any 
other office.”. Thirty-five years.after, all the Jews in Eng- 
land, to the number of: 15,000, were expelled the country, 
and all their real estates confiscated, by a resolution éx- 
torted from the parliament by the clamours of the people 





Frugal Fare of the Swedish Peasants, and their Affection 
for their Horses-——“ While changing horses; we were not a 
little entertained at the curious group formed by the pea- 
sants and their steeds breakfasting together ; both cordially 
partaking of a large, hard, rye-cake. This is their constant 
food on the road’; and, indeed, throughout Sweden it forms 
‘the chief, and frequently the only, subsistence of the pea- 
santry. Before setting out on a journey, a few of these 
cakes are strung together, which serve for the support of 
themselves and their horses. .As the latter may sometimes 
belong to three or even four proprietors,.it 1s highly amusing, 
on the road, to observe the frequent altercations between 
them, each endeavouring to spare his own horse; and, 
while running by the side of your carriage, using his utmost 
endeavours to persuade the driver that it is an animal of 
such qualities as not to have the least occasion for the whip; 
at the same time, perhaps, giving him a hint, that, from 
what he knows of his neighbour's beast, the lash would be 
well applied there. ‘The curious scenes that in consequence 
arise form not the least entertaining part of the journey. 
Their affection for. their horses is so great, that I have 
actually seen them shed tears when they have been driven 
beyond their strength.. Indeed, the expedition with which 
these little animals proceed is surprising when we consider 
the smallness of their size, which hardly exceeds that of a 
pony. Seven or eight miles within the hour are accom- 
plished by them with ease; and the roads throughout 
Sweden being universally good, they frequently do not 
relax from a gallop until they have reached the post-house.” 
—Sir Arthur de Capell Brooke's Travels in Sweden, &c. 





®,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 


LONDON :--CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 


Printed by Wi.114am Crowgs, Duke Street, Lambeth, 








THE P 


Society for the Diffusio 


Mionthip Supplement of 


ENNY MAGAZINE 


THE 


n of Useful Knowledge. 





122.1] 


January 31, to February 28, 1834. 








CANTERBURY. 


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We have already (see No. 106) given a general de- 
scription of Canterbury; and the: present Supplement 
will be devoted to a review of some of the most re- 
markable among the particular objects of interest in the 
place. The buildings of note—still standing or now in 
ruins—in the city and its neighbourhood, are almost.all 
connected with its ecclesiastical establishmerits. We 
shall begin with the most distinguished,—the Cathedral, 
otherwise called Christ Church,—which, as mentioned 
in our former notice, stands in the north-east quarter of 
the town. 

It is certain that, during the Roman domination in 
Great Britain, Christianity had been geuerally esta- 
blished in the southern parts of the island, which were 
inhabited by a mixed population of Britons and Romans. 
Many of the Romans who came over to colonize the 
country after its conquest in the reign of the Emperor 
Claudius were, no doubt, Christians; and the general 
conversion of the natives within the subjugated territory 
most probably took place in the first or second century. 
it is most likely, also, that it was in part effected by 
the agency of missionaries who visited the island ex- 

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pressly for that purpose ; although but little confidence 
can be placed in the story told by the old monkish 
historians about the preachers that were sent over by 
Pope Eleutherius to a British king of the name of 
Lucius, who is said to have flourished before the close 
of the second century, and to have been the first prince 
of his nation who received the new faith. No doubt 
can be entertained that churches were built in many 
parts of the country in the course of the three centuries 
during which it enjoyed peace and security under the 
Roman protection. Whatever buildings, or remains of 
buildings, are now found, which bear the impress of 
Christian civilization, and cannot be assigned to a date 
subsequent to the establishment of the Saxons, must 
have been erected during this era of tranquillity, when 
letters andthe arts probably flourished to a degree 
which they scarcely again attained in the course of the 
next thousand years. The Saxon invasion swept away 


all this, by rolling over the country a tide not only of 


savage ignorance but of war and slaughter, which: de- 
solated a great part of the island for a century and a 
half, The reign of anything like civilization did not 


L 


74 


recommence till towards the close of the sixth century. 
About this time, Ethelbert, king of Kent, married 
Bertha, the daughter of the French king Charibert ; 
and out of this event arose the first introduction of 
Christianity into Saxon Britain. It is supposed to have 
been on the application of Bertha, who was herself a 
convert, and a lady of great piety and virtue, that Pope 
Gregory I. was induced to send over from Rome the 
celebrated Augustine and his forty followers, who 
arrived in the Isle of Thanet in the year 597, and were 
soon after permitted by Ethelbert to take up their 
residence in Canterbury, the capital of his dominions. 

Bede tells us that there was already a building in the 
eastern quarter of the city, which long betore had been 
used as a Christian church; and that this edifice was 
viven by the king, after his conversion, to Augustine 
and his companions. ‘There is every reason to believe 
that the church in question stood on the site of the 
present cathedral. It may have been built four or five 
centuries before, and must, at the least, have been two 
or three hundred years old. Having fallen into decay, 
it was enlarged and repaired under the direction of 
Augustine, who had by this time been consccrated 
Archbishop of Canterbury; and who, having dedicated 
it to Christ, made it his cathedral. It hence derives its 
proper designation of Christ Church. 

The building thus founded, or rather restored and 
amplified, by Augustine, subsisted till the year 938, by 
which time, however, partly in consequence of a recent 
attack of the Danes, it had become little better than a 
ruin. The walls, we are told, were uneven, and in some 
places were broken down, and the roof was in so threat- 
ening a state that the church could not be safely entered. 
Odo, who was then arclibishop, bestowed considerable 
cost in the reparation of the fabric; but, in 1011, the 
Danes, in a new attack, burned down the roof which 
he had erected, and left only the walls standing. After 
Canute came to the throne, however, in 1017, its re- 
storation was once more effected, the king having, it is 
said, contributed munificently to the expense. But the 
new disturbances, which arose after his decease, and 
especially the neglect and dilapidation to which it was 
exposed during the unavailing resistance of the Saxon 
Archbishop Stigand to the Norman Conqueror, had 
again reduced the structure to such a state, when Lan- 
franc succeeded to the see in 1070, that this prelate 
determined to rebuild it almost from the foundation. 
There is reason to believe, however, that even in this, 
the most complete re-edification which the church had 
yet sustained, the ancient walls were not entirely thrown 
down. 

Lanfranc lived to complete his design so far as that 
the cathedral in his time was once more rendered fit for 
the services of religion, and presented the appearance 
of a finished building. Considerable additions were 
made to it, however, by Anselm and others of his suc- 
cessors ; and even some parts which Lanfranc had built 
are recorded to have been taken down not lone after 
his death, and re-erected in a different style. Conrad, 
a prior of the adjoining monastery, in particular, made 
such improvements on the choir, that it is stated to 
have been for a long time after generally kuown by his 
name. 

But, on the 5th of September, 1174, an accidental 
fire, which commenced in some houses on the south 
side of the church, and was carried by a high wind 
towards the sacred building, having seized upon the 
roof, soon reduced the whole once more to the bare 
walls. “ The leads,” says the old chronicler, Gervase, 
who was a monk of Canterbury, and flourished in the 
thirteenth century, “‘ were melted, and the timber-work 
and painted cev ne all on fire fell down into the 
choir, where the stalls of the monks added fresh fuel 
in abundance.” He also speaks of the walls, and 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[ Fesruary 28, 


especially the pillars, having been much scorched 
und injured; but :t does not appear that they were 
actually thrown down by the violence of the flames. 
A great sensation was excited by this calamity, not only 
throughout England, but the whole of Christendom. 
The murder, or, as it was deemed, the martyrdom, 
of the famous Thomas & Becket, which took place in 
the cathedral of Canterbury on the 28th of December, 
1170, had given an extraordinary sanctity to the build- 
ing, and attracted to it crowds of: pilgrims from every 
country of Europe. The celebrity and reverential esti- 
mation which it had thus acquired soon made the funds 
necessary for its restoration pour im abundantly. ‘Fhe 
most distinguished personages of the age eagerly offered 
their aid—many bringing their oblationsin person. ‘The 
king, Henry II., himself contributed Jargely. ‘In 
1179,” says Mr. Batteley in his additions to ‘ Somner’s 
Antiquities of Canterbury,’ ‘‘ Louis VIL., king of France, 
landed at Dover, where our king expected his arrival. 
On the 23rd of August these two kings came to Can- 
terbury, with a great train of nobility of both nations, 
and were received by the archbishop and his compro- 
vincials, the prior and convent, with great honour and 
unspeakable joy. The oblations of gold and silver 
made by the French were incredible. ‘The king came 
In manner and habit of a pil@rim—was conducted to 
the tomb of St. Thomas in solemn procession—where 
he offered his cup of gold and a royal precious stone, 
with a yearly rental of 100 muids (hogsheads) of wine, 
for ever, to the convent, confirming his grant by royal 
charter, under his seal, delivered in form.” 

The rebuilding of the cathedral was commenced soon 
after the fire, and, the means being thus liberally sup- 
pled, was carried on for some years with great spirit. 
Lhe direction of the work was entrusted to a French 
architect, William of Sens, who, however, only super- 
intended it for the first four years, having then 
received an accidental injury which obliged him to 
relinquish his office. He was succeeded by an English 
man. In 1183, however, the stream of offerings having 
probably somewhat diminished, fhe operations were sus- 
pended by the monks, on the pretence that their finds 
were exhausted. The expedient had the desired effect. 
Contributions to the pious work poured in immediately 
in almost unprecedented abundance; and the receivers 
were enabled not only to complete their original design, 
but to add to it new features of magnificence and 
splendour. ‘The body of the cathedral soon stood once 
more in a finished state ; but many additions and alter- 
ations were made long after the main part of the work 
had been thus accomplished. In fact, the building 
mie¢ht be said to be still only in progress when the 
Reformation broke out, and the king's mandate, on the 
dissolution of the religious houses, put a stop to its 
firther decoration or enlargement, and left it in all 
material respects in the state in which we now see it. 

Irom this detail it appears that the present cathedral 
stands mainly on the same foundation with the ancient 
British church which Augustine found in Canterbury 
on his arrival at the end of the sixth century, nor is it 
altogether impossible that some portion of that primi- 
tive edifice may still remain in the pile as it now exists. 
It is acknowledged on all haids that part of Archbishop 
Lanfranc’s cathedral is still standing; and the vaults 
under the choir appear to be of a style of architecture 
anterior at any rate to the Norman Conquest. 

The cathedral of Canterbury is built in the usual 
form of a cross, having, however, two transepts. Bat- 
tresses rising into pinnacles are ranged along the walls 
both of the nave and the transepts; anda square tower 
of great beauty ascends from the intersection of the 
western transept and the nave. ‘I'wo other towers also 
crown the extremities of- the west front; that to the 
north, which had been long m a ruinous state, and 


if 


1834.] 


the upper part of which was removed many years ago, 
was taken down the year before last from the founda- 
tion, and is now being restored. 

The cathedral of Canterbury is very spacious. The 
following are its principal dimensions :—the length of 
the whole building from east to west, measured in the 
interior, is 514 feet; of which the choir occupies not 
less than 180 feet, being an extent unequalled by that 
of any other choir in England... The breadth of the 
nave with its side aisles is 71 feet; and its height 80 
feet. ‘The larger transept is 154, the smaller 124 feet, 
in len¢eth from north to south. The height of the 
vreat central tower, called the Bell-Harry steeple, is 
235 feet; and that of the Oxford and Arundel steeples, 
at the north and south extremities of the west front, 
about 130 feet. 

{t is remarked of this Cathedral, by Mr. Hasted, 
in his ‘ History of the County of Kent,’ that, “ not- 
withstanding the different ages in which the several 
parts of it have been built, and the various kinds 
of architecture singular to each,—no one part cor- 
responding with that adjoming to it,—-yet there seems 
nothing unsightly or disagreeable in the view of 
it; on the contrary, the whole together has a most 
venerable and pleasing effect.” This observation is 
mace in reference to the external aspect of the building, 
which, however, with the exception of the fine central 
‘ower, 1s not distinguished by any very extraordinary 
heauty or magnificence. ‘he west front, so highly 
decorated in some of our other cathedrals, is here 
extremely plain. ‘The interior, however, from the vast 
extent of the perspective,—now, since the removal of 
the organ to a side gallery, embracing the whole length 
of the nave and choir,—and from the unusual elevation 
of the ceiling, has a very grand effect. ‘The ranges of 
(all windows on each side pour in the light in abundant 
streams between the lofty arches, so that, as the visiter 
moves forward, every thine around opens upon him in 
its full dimensions. ‘The view upward, from under the 
yreat central tower, which is open to the height of 
above 200 feet, and lighted by successive tiers of 
windows all around, may well be conceived to be exceed- 
‘ugly imposing. Mr. Gostling, in his ‘ Walk in and 
about the City of Canterbury,’ relates the following 
stance of tiie admiration which he once saw excited 
by the proportions of this tower :—‘* Many years ago, I 
had the pleasure of taking a walk with an eminent 
builder in this part of our cathedral. The person was 
Mr. Strong, son of him: who was master-inason at 
St. Paul's in London, during the whole construction 
xf that justly admired fabric; brought up under his 
father to the same business, and his successor in the 
works of the Royal Hospital at Greenwich. He could 
hardly be prejudiced in favour of the Gothic taste, and 
was undoubtedly a competent judge how strength and 
beauty were properly considered in works of such mag- 
nificence. When he came to make his observations 
here, and especially in the upper works, | was presently 
convinced that an artist sees with other eyes than they 
do who are not such; and the eagerness of every step 
he took in examiming and noting down the proportions 
of what he saw, with his passionate exclamation at my 
uot being then able to satisfy him who was the designer 
of that stately tower,—in, one of the galleries whereof 
we were standing and admiring it,—showed sufficiently 
how worthy he thought this forgotten architect of all 
tne honour that could be paid to so exalted a genius.” 
Lhis tower was built about the end of the fifteenth 
century. 

Et would require far more space than we can afford 
to describe at length all the different parts and orna- 
ments of the cathedral which are interesting either from 
{heir merit as productions of art, or from the historical 
associations with which they are connected. We can 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. vO 


only mention shortly a few of the more remarkable. 
Among these is the ancient stone-screen at the entrance 
to the choir, the date of which is supposed to be the 
early part of the fourteenth century. It presents a rich 
display of Gothic sculpture; and among the figures by 
which it is adorned are six kings wearing crowns, and 
holding in their hands five of them lobes, and the 
sixth a church, ‘The ancient stalls of the choir were 
removed in 1734, when the present were substituted in 
their place. Some parts of the ornamental work are sup- 
posed to have been executed by the celebrated Gibbons, 
by whom the admirable carvings of the fittings in the 
choir of St. Paul’s were cut. Behind the choir, instead 
of the Lady Chapel, or chapel dedicated to the Virgin, 
which usually occupies this place in other cathedrals, is 
the chapel of the Holy ‘Trinity, erected about 1184 in 
honour of St. Thomas a Becket, and long the most 
attractive part of the church, as containing his shrine. 
** This shrine,” says Stow, ‘* was builded about @ man’s 
heieht, all of stone, then upwards of timber plain, within 
which was a chest of iron, containing the bones of 
Thomas Becket, scull and all. with the wound of his 
death, and the piece cut out of his scull laid in the same 
wound. The timber-work of this shrine, on the outside, 
was covered with plates of gold, damasked with gold 
wire, Which ground of cold was again covered with 
jewels of gold, as rings, “ten or twelve cramped with 
gold wire into the said ground of gold, many of those 
rings having stones in them, brooches, images, angels, 
precious stones, and great pearls,” Hither, in 1220, 
the body of the Saint was removed from ‘the erypt 
underground, where it had till then been deposited ; 
the Pope’ S legate, the Archbishops of Canterbury and 
Rheims, anc divers other bishops and abbots, bearing 
the coffin on their shoulders, amidst a display of all 
that was most gorgeous and imposing in the pomps 
and splendours of the ancient ritual. The king him- 
self, Henry III., was present. The expenditure of 
Stephen Langton, the archbishop, is said to have been 
so profuse on this occasion, that he left a debt upon 
the revenues of the see which was not discharged ti. the 
time of his fourth successor. ‘The cost, howev er, Was ll 
time amply repaid. Becket’s shrine continued to draw 
an immense revenue of gifts to the church as long as 
the old religion lasted. Erasmus, who was admitted to 
a sight of the treasure deposited in the sacred chamber 
a short time before the Reformation, tells us, that 
under a cofiin of wood, inclosing: another of eold, which 
was drawn up from its place by ropes and “pulleys, he 
beheld an amount of riches the value of which he could 
not estimate. Gold, he says, was the meanest thine to 
be seen ; the whole place shone and glittered with the 
rarest and most precious Jewels, most “of which were of 
an extraordinary size, some being larger than the eoe 
of a goose. “At the dissolution, Henry VITl. seized 
upon all this wealth. Stow says, that “‘ the spoil in gold 
aud precious stones filled two great chests, one of which 
six or seven strong men could do no more than convey 
out of the church at once.” One of the precious stones, 
called the Regal of France, which had been presented 
by Lonis VII. on his visit to the church, as mentioned 
above, in 1179, he set and wore as a thumb-ring. At 
the same time he ordered the remains of Becket to be 
burned, and the ashes scattered to the winds. The 
bones of St. Dunstan and St. Anselm, which were ¢'so 
preserved in the cathedral of Canterbury, Welle que 
bably treated in the same way. The only trace «f the 
shrine of the martyr that now remains is afforded by 
the pavement around the spot where it stood, which is 
worn down by the knees of the crowds of worshippers 
that, during nore than three centuries, offered here their 
oblations and their prayers. ‘The spot, we may here 
mention, which is pointed out as that on which Becket 
was iscattfifated. is in the northern portion of the 


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That part of the church Is on this 
account called the Martyrdom. At the east end of the 
chapel of the Holy Trinity is another of a circular form, 
called Becket’s Crown, probably from the manner in 


western transept. 


which the ribs of the arched roof meet in the centre. It 
appears not to have been finished at the time of the 
Reformation; and the works being then suspended, it 
remained in that state till about the middle of the last 
century, when it was completed at the expense of a 
private citizen. 

In the Chapel of the Holy Trinity stands the ancient 
patriarchal chair in which the archbishops are enthroned, 
and which, according to tradition, was the real seat of 
the Saxon kings of Kent. It is formed of three pieces 
of grey marble, cut in pannels, the under part being 
solid, like that of a seat cut out of a rock. 


In ane 


chapel also, among other monumen!s, is that of the 
Black Prince, still in wonderful preservation after the 
lapse of nearly four centuries and a half. On a hand- 
some sarcophagus of grey marble, richly sculptured 
with coats of arms and other ornaments, lies the figure of 
the warrior in copper gilt, with his face displayed, but 
the rest of his body cased in armour. ‘The sword, 
which had at one time been hung by his girdle, now 
lies loose by his side. Covering the whole is a wooden 
embattled canopy, and suspended over this are some 
of the actual weapons and other armour worn by the 
Prince :—his gauntlets, his helmet and crest, a surcoat 
of velvet elaborately adorned with gilding and em- 
broidery, and the scabbard of lis dagger, displaying 
the arms of fingland and France. It is commonly 
said that the weapon itself was taken away by Oliver 


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Cromwell ; but this tradition has probably arisen merely 
from its having disappeared in the civil confusions of 
Cromwell’s time. The shield of the Prince hangs on a 
pillar near the head of the tomb. Among the other 
tombs in this the most sacred part of the chur pleeake 
chat of Henry IV. and his second wife Queen Jane 
of Navarre, and those of Archbishop Courtney, Car- 
dinal Chatillon (of the Coligny family), and Cardinal 
Pole. In other, parts of the church are the monu- 
ments of Archbishops Chichele, Bourchier, Walter, 
Peckham, Warham, Ludbury, and many other per- 
sonages connected with it in ancient times. 

A verv curious part of the cathedral is what 1s called 
the Undercroft, being the crypt over which the choir is 


raised. It is undoubtedly the most ancient part of the 
building ; and as the architecture appears to be Saxon, 
it is supposed to have been part of the older church left 
standing by Lanfranc. The walls are perfectly destitute 
of ornament, and every thing presents the aspect of the 
most venerable antiquity. ‘Of the pillars, some are 
round, others twisted, and neither in shafts nor capitals 
are there two of them alike. The circumference of 
most of the shafts is about four feet, and the height of 
shaft, plinth, and capital only six feet and a half. From 
these spring semi-circular arches, making a vaulted roof 
of the height of fourteen feet. The portion of this 
crypt u uder the west end of the choir was Tong in 
the possession of a congregation of Calvinists, which 


78 


originally consisted of refugees driven from the Nether- 
lands by the persecutions of the Duke of Alva, in the 
reien of our Edward VI, and afterwards increased by 
» number of French Hugunots, who sought an asylum 
i this country on the evocation of the Edict of Nautes. 
They were principalty silk-weavers ; and their numbers 
were at oné time very considerable, but they latterly 
ereatly diminished. Their place of meeting for divine 


worship in the cathedral 1s said to have been granted | 


to them by Queen Eiizabeth. 





















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[Capital of a Column in the Crypt.) 


There still remain in several of the windows of the 
church some fine specimens of ancient painted glass ; 
but the productions of this most fragile "Ql, Tie Tarts, 
with which it was formerly very richly adorned, were 
in great part mercilessly destroyed during the fanatic 
fury of the seventeenth century. A magnificent window 
in the northern wing of the western transept, in particular, 
suffered severely. The relation of its demolition has 
been given by the person who was himself most active 
a1 the work—an individual of the name of Richard 
Culmer (but more commonly called “ Blue Dick’), 
who, on the recommendation of the Mayor of Canter- 
bury, was appointed by. the House of Commons one of 
the six preachers in the cathedral, after the abolition of 
episcopacy. .This zealot writes, “ ‘The commissioners 
fell presently to work on the great idolatrous window, 
standing on the left hand as you go up into the choir ; 
for which window some affirm many thousand ponnds 
have been offered by outlandish papists. In that window 
was now the picture of God the Father, and of Christ, 
besides a large crucifix, and the picture of the Holy 
Ghost in the form of a dove, and of the twelve apos- 
tles: and in that window were seven large pictures of 
the Virgin Mary, in seven several glorious appearances ; 
as of the augels lifting her into heaven, and the sun, 
moon, and stars under her feet; andevery picture had 
an inscription underit, beginning with Gaude, Maria ; 
as Gaude, Maria, Sponsa Dei; that is, Rejoice, Mary, 
thou Spouse of God. There were in ‘this window many 
other pictures of popish saints, as of St. George, «ec. ; 
but their prime cathedral saint, Archbishop Becket, 
was most rarely pictured in that window, in full pro- 
portion, with cope, rochet, mitre, crosier, and his ponti- 
Sealibus. And in the foot of that huge window was a 
litle, iitimating that window to be dedicated to the 
Virgin Mary.” In afterwards describing his own share 
in the work, he lets out that he was not a little vain of 
the performance, although he wichholds his name :— 

.* A minister,’ he says, “ was on the top of the city 


ladder, near sixty steps high, with a whole pike in his 
a 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Fenruary 28, 


hand, rattling down proud Becket’s glassy bones, when 
others then present would not venture so high.” ‘The 
modes in which self-admiration exhibits itself are very 
various. 

But we must now leave the cathedral, and proceed 
to the other buildings which we have also to notice. 
Before quitting the quarter, however, in which the 
metropolitan church is situated, we must direct attention 
to the fine specimen of a kind of architecture in which 
our ancestors greatly delighted—the Precinct Gate—of 
the present appearance of which, worn and half oblite- 
rated by time, but still majestic, our wood-cut furnishes 
a faithful representation. It forms the principal en- 
trance, that from the south-west corner, to the extensive 
court in which the cathedral stands, surrounded by the 
prebendal houses, the deanery, what was the archiepis- 


| copal palace, and other buildings connected- with the 


establishment of the church. It opens upon the ancient 
avenue from the High Street, called Mercery Lane, 
where, in the Chequer Inn, occupying more than half 


/the west side, and extending a considerable way down 


the High Street, and m other large tenements adjoining, 


| were formerly lodged many of the pilgrims who crowded 


hither from all parts to pay their devotions at the shrine 


{of St. Thomas. The gate is correctly described by 


Somner, in his ‘ History of the Cathedral,’ as “ a very 


eoodly, strong, and beautiful structure, and of excel- 
lent artifice.’ rom an inscription over the arch, now 
nearly illegible, it appears to have been built in the 
vear 1517. Of the space within the precinct, a consi- 
derable part is occupied by the cemetery of the catlie- 
dral, and the remainder which is not covered by build- 
ings is for the most part laid out in pardens. [t may 
form about a fifth part of the whole city within the 
walls. Of the archbishop’s palace, which stood on the 
west side, little is now remaining. The great court has 
been converted partly into gardens and partly into a 
timber-yard; and a private dwelling-house has been 
formed out of the porch of the great hall. ‘There are a 
considerable number of privaté houses, and also of 
shops, within the precinct. | 

Several of the old city gates of Canterbury were 
venerable for their antiquity; but they have now, we 
believe, all been removed, with the exception of that 
called Westgate, at the north-west extremity of the High 
Street, over which is the city prison. At the opposite 
extremity of the same street was Ridinggate, crossing: 
the road to Dover, near to which were two arches of 
Roman brick and architecture. At Wortheate, forming 
the termination of Castle Street, on the south-west, was 
another Roman arch; and there was another at Que- 
ningate, leading out from the east side of the cathedral 
precinct. 

Directly facing this last-mentioned entrance stands 
the very handsome structure of which we have given 
an engraving—the great gate of the now ruined mo- 
nastery of St. Augustine. This monastery 1s commonly 
believed to have been originally founded by St. Augus- 
tine on ground granted to hin by King lsthelbert, and 
to have been at first dedicated to St. Peter and St 
Paul.- It was St. Dunstan who, in the year 975, dedi- 
cated it anew to these apostles, and also to St. Augus- 
tine. Speaking of the two establishments of Christ 
Church and St. Augustine's, Lambarde, 11 his * Perant- 
bulation of Kent,’ (1596) says, “The monks of the 
which places were as far removed from ail mutual love 
and Society, as the houses themselves were hear linked 
together, either in regard of the time of their foundation, 
the order of their profession, or the place of their situa- 
tion. And, therefore, in this part it might well be 
verified of them, which was wont to be commonly said, 
Unicum arbustum non alit duos erithacos ;— Onie cherry- 
tree snfficeth not two jays. J*or indeed one whole city, 
nay rather one whole shire and country, could hardly 


1934.] 


suffice the pride and ambitious avarice of such two 
irreligious synagogues ; the which, as in all places they 
agreed to enrich themselves by the spoil of the laity, 
so in no place agreed they one with another; but, each 
seeking everywhere and by all ways to advance them- 
selves, “they moved continual and that most fierce and 
deadly war, for lands, privileges, relics, and such like 
valll worldly pre-eininences ; insomuch as he that will 
observe it shall find that universally the chronicles of 
their own houses contain for the most part nothing else 
but sueing’ for exemptions, procuring of relics, struggling 
for offices, wrangling for consecrations, and pleading 
for lands and possessions.” In another place, having 
occasion to notice one of their early quarrels, he again 
returns to the subject : if Thus you see how soon after 
the foundation these houses were at dissension, and for 
how small trifles they were ready to put on arms, and 
to move great and troublesome tragedies ; neither do | 
find that ever they agreed after, but were evermore at 
continual brawling within themselves, either sueing 
before the king or appealing to,the pope, and that for 
matters of more stomach than importance; as, for ex- 
ainple, whether the abbot of St. Augustine’s should be. 
consecrated or blessed in his own church or in the 
other's; whether he ought to ring his bells at service, 
before the other had rung theirs; whether he and_his 
tenants owed suit to the bishop’s court; and such like, 

wherein it cannot be doubted but that they consumed 
inestimable treasure for maintaining of their most 
popish pride and wilfulness.”’ 

The small portion of the monastery which now 
remains adjoins the great gateway, but at the dissolu- 
tion of the religious houses it was so extensive a building 
that Henry VI. seized upon it as a palace for himself 
It was afterwards granted to Cardinal Pole for life, by 
Queen Mary. On his decease it reverted to the crown; 
and, in 1573, Queen Elizabeth, having paid a visit A 
Canterbury, kept her court here. 

This building afterwards came into the possession 
of Lord Wotton, whose lady, after her husband’s death, 
received Charles IL here on his way to London, at 
the Westoration, From her, it is still commonly 
called Lady Wotton’s Palace. The whole area com- 
prehended within the inclosure of the monastery is 
about sixteen acres. In the fifth edition of Mr. Gost- 
line's work, printed about thirty years ago, it -is said— 
‘The west front of the monastcry extends about 250 
fect, and the walls which inclose the whole precincts 
are standing ; the great gate has buildings adjoining, 
which once had some handsome apartments, aud par- 
ticularly a bed-chainber, with a ceiling very curiously 
painted. ‘The whole is now let to one who keeps a 
public-house; and, having plenty of excellent water, 
{his apartment is converted to a brewhouse, the steam 
of which has miserably defaced that fine ceiling. The 
rest of the house he has fitted up for such oR tomer 
as choose to spend their time there, having turned the 
great court-yard into a bowling-¢reen, the fine chapel 

adjoining: f the mori side of the church into a fives’- 
court, with a skittle-eround uear it; and the great 
room over the gate to a cock-pit.” A short distance to 
the south-east of the wate stands a fragment known by 
the name of Ethelbert’s Tower, which appears to have 
been a portion of the old abbey church. Not far 
from this was erected some years ago a City and County 
Hospital for the relief of the sick and lame poor. It 
stauds near the middle of the area. ‘To the east of 
that again is a small edifice of great antiquity, called 
St. Pancras’ Chapel, the materials and architecture of 
which appear to be Roman, and which, according to 
tradition, was King Ethelbert’s private chapel, in which 
he worshipped a ancestral aods before his conversion 


to Christianity, It is only thir ty feet lone by twenty- 


one in breadth, 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 29 


But the most interesting monument of antiquity in 
Canterbury, and one of the most interesting in the 
kingdom, is the church of St. Martin, at some distance 
east. from the chapel of St. Paicras, and beyond the 
precinct of the monastery. It stands on the side of a 
hill, rising on the left hand of the road leading to Deal, 
within half a mile of the city walls. ‘The body of this 
church, which is still used for divine service, is built of 
Pore. bricks ; and thé character of the are Micestiie 
although about ‘that there has been much difference of 
opinion, has been thought to concur in indicating that 
its erection must have preceded the Saxon invasion. 
It is probable, at any rate, that it was built of the 
materials, and. on the site, of a Roman edifice. Bede 


States that Augustine, on his arrival, found two ancient 


Christian churches at Canterbury, the one within the 
city in its eastern quarter, and the other at a short 
distance without the walls. The former was, no doubt, 
that which was eventually converted into the ap 
and the other this church of St. Martin’s ; or, at leas 

the older building in the same place, ont of the mater: al 
of which the present church was constructed. ficre 


Queen Bertha is said to have had the services of re- 


ligion performed to herself and her Christian attendants 
by her chaplain Luidhard, before the arrival of the 
Roman missionary; and it was here also that Au- 
gustine first performed mass, the other church within 
the city not having been opened till it was enlarged 
and repaired. A very ancient font still exists in St. 


-Martin’s Church, which is asserted to have been that 


used at the baptism of King Ethelbert. 

Such are the principal | memorials of its ancient 
greatness which are now left to this venerable ec- 
clesiastical metropolis. Our limits have enabled us 
rather to note rapidly the chief points of interest pre 
sented by each than to describe any of them fully. A 
complete account of the cathedral alone would furnish 
matter for a large volume, and the subject has indeed 
occupied several large volumes. The early lustory of 
some others of these old buildings, again, carries us so 
far into the deepest night of the past, that, although 


| there is little to relate, there is, on that verv account, 


the more to conjecture, and the wider field for the 
imagination to expatiate in. In traversing the streets 
of Canterbury, we tread ground which has probably 
been deemed holy and famous since religion, in any 
form, first set up her temples in onr island, or shed a 
niystic sanctity over hill and e@rove. There is reason to 
believe that the first Christian churches were usually, 
if not always, planted on those sites which superstition 
had previously consecrated in the hearts of the people. 
Besides, it can hardly be doubted that Canterbury was 
a Roman station; and if so, it was most likely a 
British town before the arrival of the Romans. The 
position of the place would point it out for a settlement 
on the first occupation of the country,—situated, 
especially, as it was, in the district that was pro- 
bably first seized upon and peopled. The bar- 
barian rites of Druidism, shadowing them with e@loom 
and fear, may therefore have first given distinc- 
tion to the spots on which now rise the Cathedral 
and the old church of St. Martin, monuments of the 
religion of purity, and peace, and hope. But if the 
vision of these primitive times is dim and, uncertain, 
there was at least a long subsequent period during 
which Canterbury stood in celebrity and glory among 
the foremost of the cities of the earth. The lhistory of 
a great part of the middie ages is so nearly a a blank, 
or at least is marked by so few events that interest us 
in the present day, that we are apt to form a very ie 
adequate conception of the length of that tract of time, 
The histories of Greece and Rome have been familiarized 
to our minds in such amplitude of detail, that we make 
a sufficient allowance for tne space in the chronology 


80 


of the world over which they extends and for a similar 
reason we are still less given to contract within too 
narrow bounds our estimate of the period comprehended 
under what may be strictly called modern history. The 
Reformation, for instance, seems to us now a very old 
event; and the time that has since elapsed, a long 
stretch of years. It appears like all the history we 
have, with the exception of a portion hardly worth 
attention, since the dissolution of the western empire. 
Yet that overlooked portion is in reality more than 
three times as long : as the oUaee ne we allow almost 


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exclusively to fill our imaginations. Ifwe are, there- 
fore, to take a full view of what Canterbury has been, 
we must carry our contemplation back over not ouly 
her three last centuries of comparative obscurity and 
decay, but her longer preceding period of renown and 
splendour. At the Reformation, the first thronging 
of the world’s multitudes to the shrine of Becket was 
an older event than the Reformation is now; and 
from the Reformation back to the arrival of St. Au- 
gustine, was three times as long a retrospect as it. is 
from the present ma! to the Reformation. 


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*,° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful K led t 59, Linco] I S 
* eful Knowledge is at 5 incoln’s Inn Fields, 
; LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
Printed by Wituram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


TOE PENNY MAGAZINE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 
125.] | 








PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Marcu 1, 1834. 


THE MANGO TREE. 





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{ Mango Tree. } 


Tue Mango-tree is a native of India and the south- 
western countries of Asia, and also grows abundantly 
in Brazil and the West Indies. It was introduced into 
Jamaica in the year 1782. It isa large tree, attaining 
ihe heieht of thirty or forty feet, with thick and wide- 
extended branches, and has been compared to the oak, 
in its manner of growth. The leaves are scattered, 
stalked, simple, about a span long and an inch or two 
wide, wavy, entire, tapering at each end, veiny, smooth, 
and shining’. 

“The flowers are small and whitish, formed into 
pyramidal branches ; the fruit has some resemblance to 
a short thick cucumber, and, on the average of the 
varieties, of which there are many, about the size of a 
goose’s eve. At first the fruit is of a fine green colour, 
and in some of the varieties it continues so, while others 
become partly or wholly orange. When ripe, the mango 
emits a smell which is very pleasant, and the flavour of it 


then is exceedingly gratifying. Externally there 1s a thin | 


Vou. IIl.. 


skin; and upon removing that, a pulp, which has some 
appearance of consistency, but which melts in the mouth 
with a cooling sweetness that can hardly be imagined 
by those who have not tasted that choicest of nature’s 
delicacies. In the heart of the pulp there is a pretty 


large stone, resembling that of the peach, to which the 


pulp adheres firmly.”-—(‘ Vegetable Substances,’ p. 


400.) In one variety of the mango, however, the stone 
does not exist. | 

The varieties of the mango are very numerous. Up- 
wards of eighty are cultivated, and the size of the trees 
and the quality of the fruits vary according to the coun- 
tries where they grow, and the circumstances of their 
situation. While the fruit, as a whole, is one of the 
most delicious of vegetable products, in some varieties 
it is so deteriorated as to have been, rather disparag- 
ingly perhaps, compared to a “ mixture of tow and tur- 
pentine.” The mangos of Asia are said to be much 
superior in size and flavour to those of America; and so 


M 


$2 


hiehly are some of the finer trees prized in India, that 
guards are placed over them during the fruit season.— 
The largest variety is the “* mango dodol,” the fruit of 
which weighs upwards of two pounds. 

Travellers and residents in the East speak In warm 
térins of the mango, as by far the best fruit that is ge- 
nerally produced in those regions, and as that which is 
most uniformly grateful to an European palate. The 
fruit is variously used. Sometimes it is cut into slices and 
eaten either with or without wine, or macerated in wine ; 
it is also candied, in order to its preservation ; and it is 
frequently opened with a knife, and the middle filled np 
with fresh ginger, garlick, mustard, and salt, with oil 
or vinegar, that it may be eaten with rice, or after the 
manner of pickled olives. 

‘The several parts of the tree are all-apphed to some 
use by the Hindoos. ‘The wood is consecrated to the 
service of the dead; some employ it to construct the 
funeral piles with which the bodies are consumed, and 
cthers tle coffins in which they are inclosed for burial. 
The stalks supply the place of areca or cuanga in the 
chewing of betel. From the flour of the dried kernels 
various kinds of food are prepared. 
flowers, bark, &c. many medicinal virtues are attributed, 
which it is not necessary to enumerate here. 

In this country the mango plant is with difficulty pre- 
served as an object of curiosity in the stove, where it 
sometimes blossoms in spring and autumn. As the ripe 
fruit is very perishable, the mango is never brought to 
this country in any other state than the green fruit 
pickled, from which no idea of the flavour can be formed. 
Even the vegetative power of the nut or kernel can with 
lifficulty be preserved during the voyage from India, 
unless it be inclosed in wax. It is said to be the best 
course to have a quantity of the nuts set in tubs of earth 
in the country where the mango naturally gvows ; and, 
when the plants are grown a foot in height, to have 
them shipped, when a covering should be placed over 
them, to defend them from the water and spray of the 
sea, care being also taken not to give them too much 
water during the passage. 


MUSIC FOR THE MANY. 


{From a Correspondent. ] 


Tue writer of these pages, in the course of a recent 
journey, was much interested by the following simple 
circumstances, which seemed to prove that a taste for a 
refined amusement, to the exclusion of drunken riot and 
pot-house bawling, was beginning to obtain amone the 
people. He arrived, early in the evening, at a small 
village in Sussex, where he passed the night. Being 
tired of the solitude of the inn and the dulness of a 
country newspaper, he walked down the street of the 
village, and, in so doing, was brought to a pause before 
a small cottage, no ways distinguished from the other 
humble homesteads of the place, from which proceeded 
sounds of sweet music. The performance within con- 
sisted, not of voices, but instruments ; and the piece 
playing was one of great pathos and beauty, and not 
devoid of musical difficulty. When it was finished, and 
the performers had rested a few seconds, they executed 
a German quartet of some pretensions in very good 
style. ‘Ehis was followed by variations on a popular air 
by Stephen Storace, which they played in excellent 
time, and with considerable eleeance aud expression. 
Several other pieces, chosen with equal good taste, 
succeeded this ; and the stranger enjoyed a musical treat 
where he little expected one. 

_,On making inquiries at the inn, he found that the 
performers to whom he had been listening were all 
young men of the village,—humble mechanics and 


agricultural labourers,—who, for some considerable 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


To the leaves, . 


[Marcu I, 


time, had been in the habit of meeting at each other's 
houses in the evening, and playing and practising 
together. The taste had originated with a young man 
of the place, who had acquired a little knowledge of 
music at Brighton. He had taught some of his com- 
rades; and, by degrees, they had so increaséd in num- 
ber and improved in the art, that now, to use the words 
of the informant, “there were eight or ten of them that 
could play by book andin public.” In fact, the next 
morning, as the traveller was sitting at breakfast, a 
procession, got up for some annual holiday occasion, 
passed the inn with a little band of music at its head, 
playing a march in a spirited, correct manner. ‘The 
performers were those he had listened to the preceding 
evening, and some others. There were the carpenter of 
the village, the village tailor, shoemaker, &c.; and two 
of them wore the smock-frock common to farmers’ 
men. The homely garbs, becoming their situations 11 
life, were neat and clean; and, without one exception, 
these rustic musicians had that contented, free, yet 
modest air we love to see on the faces of Englishinen. 
The instruments they played were wind instruments. 
The traveller had seldom listened to the concert of pro- 
fessional persons, or to the opera, where the first-rate 
artists display their skill, with so much interest as he 
did to this humble band; for he thought he traced in it 
an indication and a promise that the refinements, and 
some of the most exquisite enjoyments, of life might be 
placed within the reach of the industrious and the poor, 
and that merely by a little exertion of their own, and in 
the way of a cheap and rational amusement for their 
leisure hours. 

Eneland, which, taken generally, is now decidedly 
not a musical country, appears at one time to have had 
considerable claims to that distinction, and to have 
merited the name of “ Merry England” by the universa! 
prevalence of song and minstrelsy. We shall not here 
attempt to explain the causes by which the love for the 
bewitching and most accessible of the fine arts has been 
uprooted in the minds of the people, but shall merely 
mention a few facts relating both to our own, and 
other countriés, to show what has been, and what, in 
our opinion, may be agaiu. 

Dr. Burney, in his voluminous and learned work*, 
establishes beyond a doubt, that not only was there a 
widely-spread taste for melody in England at a very 
early period, but that im counterpoint, or music in 
parts, in songs, glees, and airs which 

“The ploughmen whistled o’er the furrow’d land,” 


and in secular music generally, we rather preceded than 
followed the other European nations. 

Even the Italian writers of the fifteenth century 
speak with the greatest respect of the musical talents 
of this country. uandini, in his ‘Commentary on 
Dante, says, that ‘“‘ many most excellent musicians ” 
came from England to Italy, crossing seas, Alps, and 
Apennines to hear the pérformance of a celebrated or- 
wanist called Antonio degh Organi. And another 
author, who was leader of the music in the Royal 
Chapel of Ferdinand, king of Naples, not only men-. 
tions the excellence of English vocal music in parts, 
but attributes (incorrectly as it should appear) the 
entire invention of counterpoint to an Enelishman, John 
of Dunstable, who lived about the middle of the fif 
teenth century. 

Dr. Burney says that, previously to the middle of the 
sixteenth century, he could meet with little or no 
music in parts, except church music, in any foreign 
country; but that, in England, he found masses in 
four, five, and six parts, and secular sone’s in our own 
language, in two and three parts; atid in very e'ood 
counterpoint, of the fifteenth aid beginnine of the 


* ¢ General History of Music,’ 4 vols, 4to. 


1834.) 


sixteenth century. The same is asserted by Hawk ns*, 
though the fact is disputed by Ritson f. 

From the frequent mention made by Chaucer of 
music, both vocal and instrumental, it has been con- 
cluded that the love and practise of the art was much 
diffused among the English people even in the times of 
that old poet?. Of his Canterbury Pilgrims, met at 
the Tabard Inn ‘in Southwark,” | 

“ Wel nine and twenty in a compagnie,” 


six are described as being adepts in music,—some play- 
ine and some singing,—and two of them (the Squire 
and the Mendicant Friar) doing both. 

Although no music, in parts, of so old a date has 
been preserved, Dr. Burney is induced by the following 
passage, which occurs in Chaucer’s ‘ Dream,’ where he 
is describing a concert of birds,— 

" for some of hem songe lowe, 
Some high, and all of one accorde,”’ 
to believe that the practise of singing in parts must 
have been common at that period. ‘There is no doubt 
that this delightful kind of music, by which the most 
beautiful effects may be produced without the aid of 





any instrument, was a great favourite with the English | 


people at an early period, and was indebted to them 
for many improvements. A curious composition, de- 
scriptive of the approach of summer, the music of which 
is four hundred years old, whilst the words are still 
older, has been preserved in a manuscript of the Har- 
leian Library, now in the British Museum. 
canon in unison for four voices, with the addition of 
two more voices for the ‘‘ pes,” as it is called, which is a 
kind of ground, and is the basis of the harmony§. The 
words of this old song have been partially modernized, 
thus :— . 
¢ Summer is a-coming in, 

Loud sing cuckoo ; 

Groweth seed 

And bloweth mead, 

And springeth the weed new. 

Ewe bleateth after lamb, — 

Loweth after calf, cow ; 

Bullock sterteth, (/eaps) 

Bucké verteth, (frequents green places) 

Merry sing cuckoo. ' ; 

Well sing’st thou, cuckoo ; 

Nor cease thou ever now.” 
Of the music Dr. Burney says, that the modulation 1s 
monotonous, and that its chief merit is ‘f the airy and 
pastoral correspondence of the melody with the words,” 
—~a merit, be it said, of no mean value. 

Mr. Stafford Smith, towards the end of the last 
century, made a collection of ancient English songs, 
written in score for three or four voices, but the oldest 
music to such songs is scarcely intelligible. “The number 
collected, however, proves how popular that sort of 
music was in early times. 

A curious and valuable manuscript has been pre- 
served which once belonged to Doctor Robert Fayrfax, 
an eminent Enelish composer during the reigns of 
Henry VII. and Henry VIII. It consists of a collec- 
tion of old English songs with their music, which is 
frequently in parts. The composers are, William of 
Newark, Sheryngham, Edmund Turges, Tudor, Gilbert 
Banester, Browne, Richard Davy, William Cornyshe, 
Syr Thomas Phelyppes, and Robert Fayrfax. Most of 
this goodly number were merely secular composers, and 
had nothing to do with church music. Cornyshe was 
one of the best of them, and his rondeau style was fol- 
lowed by the delightful English composer Purcell, 
nearly two hundred years later. 

Jo be able to sing a part in the madrigals, and other full 
pieces of the time, was then considered as an indispen- 

* © Thistory of Music. 

} ‘Ancient Songs, from the Time of King Henry III. to the 


Revolution.’ 
} Chaucer died about 1440 § Sir John Hawkins, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


three voices. 
‘ter’s Tale: —‘* She hath made me four and twenty 
‘nosegays for the shearers: three-man-soug-men, all, 
-and very good ones. 
It is a} ’ ' 
rounds, and catches, some of which are ingenious and 
exhilarating compositions, were produced about this 
time; and as the press had obtained something like 
activity, the words of them were printed and scattered 
over every part of the country. But very few songs 
| for a single voice appeared. 


$3 


sable accomplishment, not only for a private gentleman 
but for a prince. Lord Herbert of Cherbury tells us 
of Henry VIII, whom we might have suspected of 
having had ‘‘ no music in his soul,” that he was “a 
curious musician.” It appears, indeed, that that king 
had, or pretended to have, the merit of composing the 
music for two high masses, and that he often sang a 
part himself. We hear of several musicians being 
about his court; Thomas Abel taught his Queen Ca- 
therine “‘ music and grammar,” and it is probable that, 
as was the case in much older times, the schoolmaster 
generally included music in his instructions. Another 
musician or poet, by name Gray, is particularly men- 
tioned as having risen high in favour with this same 
monarch, and afterwards with the Protector, the Duke 
of Somerset, ‘‘ for making certaine merry ballades, 
whereof one chiefly was, ‘ The hunt is up—the hunt 
is up 4 , 

“A popular species of harmony,” says Ritson, whose 
collection affords several specimens of it, ‘* arose in this 


‘reign: it was called ‘ King Henry’s Mirth,’ or ‘ Free- 


men’s Songs, that monarch being a great admirer of 
vocal music. ‘ Freemen’s songs’ is a corruption of 
‘Three men’s songs,’ from their being generally for 
Thus the clown in Shakspeare’s ‘ Win- 


a a7 


A vast number of these pieces, and of canons, 


The printed ballads were hawked about in baskets, 
and the selling and the singing of them, which were 
sometimes united in the same persons, soon became a 
profitable branch of trade. In an old pamphlet by 
one Henry Chettle, which ts supposed to have been 
published in the time of Queen Elizabeth, it is asserted 
with astonishment and anger that “ Out-roaring Dick 
and Wat Winbars ” got twenty shillings a day by sing- 
ing at Braintree Fair in Essex. It appears that these 
wandering songsters did not content themselves with 
the level of the street, or the kennel, as is the case now- 
a-days, but sang mounted upon benches and barrel- 
heads ;—hence they are frequently called by the old 
writers cantabangui, or, more correctly, cantabanchi, 
an Italian compound term composed of cantare (to 
sing) and bach: (benches). ‘Lhey seem to have called 
over the list of the wares they had for sale,—a practice 
not yet obsolete. It may be amusing to compare these 
titles or head-lines with those we now hear from the 
ballad-sellers in our streets. The following are a few of 
the old ones :—‘ The Three Ravens,’ a dirge; ‘ Broom, 
Broom, on Hill;’ ‘So Woe is me, Begone!’ ‘ By a 
Bank as I Lay ;’ ‘ Bonny Lass upona Green!’ ‘ Peggy 
and Willy ;) ‘ The Lincolnshire Bag-pipes ;’ ‘ But now 
he is Dead and Gone;’ ‘ Over a Whinny Weg’ ‘ Mine 
own sweet Willy is laid in his Grave;’ ‘ Three Merry 
Men we be;’ ‘ Now Robin lend me thy Bow;’ ‘ He is 
dead and gone, Lady,’ &c., &c. 

During the reigns of Elizabeth and James I., there 
flourished several excellent masters, whose compositions 
bear the stamp of national originality. Among these 
were Bird, who wrote the still popular canon, ‘ Non 
Nobis Domine,’ and the music to the beautiful secular 
song, ‘ My mind to me a kingdom ist+;’ Morley, his 
scholar, who produced a great number of canzoncttes, 


* Puttenham’s ‘ Arte of English Poesie,’ (published in 1589,) 
quoted in Ritson. 
+ The reader will find this moral and beautiful song in No, 24 
of the ‘Penny Magazine,’ 
M 2 


84 


or short sones for three and more voices; Ford, a 
superior genius, who published some pieces for four 
voices accompanied by lutes and viols, and wrote. a 
great many catches which were social and facetious ; 
George Kirbye, another good composer of songs in 
parts; and Thomas Weelkes, whom the immortal 
Shakspeare often furnished with words for his music. 
It is, indeed, on the songs,in parts of this period, or 
from 1560 to 1625, that the musical reputation of Eng- 
jand must mainly rest.’ That this sort of vocal music 
was popular at the time, we may conclude from the 
following list of the works published by Morley betweert 
the years 1593 and 1597, 


1, Canzonettes, or short songs, for 3 voices. 


2. Madrigals, for,4 do. 
3. Ballets, or Fa-las, for 5 do. 
4, Madrigals, | for 5 do. 


5. Canzonnetes, or short airs, for 5 and 6 do. 


In fact, instrumental music had made small progress 
iin Europe at the commencement of the seventeenth 
century ; lutes, viols, and virginals, were almost the 
only instruments in use, and the lovers of music sup- 
plied the place of a complicated orchestra by the various 
qualities of their own natural voices. We would not 
limit the present age to a such a system, but we would 
intimate that beautiful effects can be produced by such 
simple means,—that the most perfect of all instruments 
is the voice which God ‘has given us, and that, by some 
attention paid to its cultivation, the poorest family in the 
land may obtain a pleasant choir, and a medium for 
the enjoyment of music. We would draw back atten- 
tion to our own old vocalists, and then it would not 
stand as a reproach against the English that, while the 
Scotch and the Irish have a national. music, they have 
none. The truth is, that: in our catches and glees, in 
the works of the composers of the days of Elizabeth 
and James J., and in those of Purcell, and others at 
a later period, we are in possession of a music essentially 
national and original—not taken from any foreign 


sources, 
'To be continued.] 


THE EAST INDIA COMPANY. 


THe history of the East India Company has had no 
parallel in the history of nations. To trace the steps by 
which a company of merchants have mounted the 
throne of Aurungzebe, before which the representatives 
of their predecessors appeared kneeling, with their 
hands bound before them, is a subject requiring the 
most extensive and various knowledge. 'The last has 
been most ably performed by Mr. Mill, in his ‘ History of 
British India ;’ and to that work we refer our readers 
for a complete view of this large subject. We only 
propose to introduce a short description of the building 
represented in our cut, by a rapid account of the 
great political body to which it belongs. 

From very early times, the commercial enterprise of 
Europeans has been directed towards. an immediate 
lutercourse with the East Indies. 'To this, however, the 
extended power of the Arabian khalifs, and the sub- 
sequent establishment of the Turkish and Persian 
monarchies opposed barriers which were only imper- 
fectly surmounted by the Venetians, who lone engrossed 
all the commerce which Europe had with the East.— 
From the desire to partake in the wealth which flowed 
to Venice from this source, arose mainly the splendid 
maritime discoveries of the Portuguese and Spaniards. 
We hardly need remind our readers that the discovery 
of America by Columbus was an accident in his pursuit 
of a westward passage to India. 

The establishment of a maritime route to India, by 
way of the Cape of Good Hope, by Vasco de Gama, 
in the year 1498, threw the commerce of the East into 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{Marcu 1, 


the hands of the Portuguese, who held it without a rival 
for nearly a hundred years ; but the power of Portugal 
in the Kast became weakened by the union of that king- 
dom with Spain, and its decline was accelerated by the 
establishment of an exclusive company in 1587, which 
soon became involved in disputes, eventually ruinous, 
with the Government in India. The revolt of the Ne- 
therlands, by excluding the Dutch from their profitable 
factorship of East India produce, induced them to en- 
gage in the direct trade to India, which they did with 
such brilliant success that the English were soon in- 
duced to follow the example. 

In the year 1599, just a century from the landing of 
Vasco de Gama on the coast of Malabar, the first asso- 
clation was formed, in London, for prosecuting trade 
between England and India. On the 3lst of December 
of the following year, this association obtained a char- 
ter, under the title of “‘ The Governor and Company 
of Merchants of London trading to the East Indies,” 
by which the Earl of Cumberland and 215 other per- 
sons obtained, for a period of 15 years, the exclusive 
right of trading to all countries from the Cape of Good 
Hope eastward to the Straits of Magellan, excepting 
those which were in the possession of friendly European 
powers. ‘he proprietors, thus incorporated, appointed 
a committee of twenty-four of their number, and a chair- 
man, who were to be chosen annually for the manage-~ 
ment of their affairs. Until 1613 the Company con- 
sisted merely of a society, subject to particular regula- 
tions ; each member managed affairs on his own account, 
and was only bound to conform to certain general rules. 
Notwithstanding the disadvantages of this arrangement, 
the profits of the trade in this period amounted to from 
100 to 200 per cent. on the capital employed. In 1609 
the Company obtained the renewal of its charter for an 
unlimited period, subject, however, to its being dissolved 
upon three years’ notice being given; and about two 
years after, it was allowed permission to establish fac- 
tories at Surat, Ahmedabad, Cambay, and Goga, upon 
its agreeing to pay a duty of 34 per cent. on all ship- 
ments of merchandise. In 1612 the capital was united, 
and the constitution in consequence became more aris- 
tocratic ; the largest stock-holders having the principal 
management, and the great body of the proprietors 
having only a nominal control in the general meetings. 
New funds were raised; and the concerns of the Coim- 
pany became so prosperous, that in the course of four 
years, the shares rose to the value of 202 per cent. Its 
factories, also, were extended to Java, Sumatra, Bor- 
neo, the Banda Islands, Celebes, Malacca, Siam, the 
coasts of Malabar and Coromandel, but chiefly in the 
states of the Mogul, whose favour was anxiously culti- 
vated. In consequence of this success, a new subscrip- 
tion, which was opened in 1616, produced 1,600,0001. . 

But in 1627 the opposition to the Stuarts brought 
into question the monopoly of the Company, which 
rested only on a royal grant, and many complaints of 
abuses and bad management were brought forward. 
The doubts as to the exclusive rights of the Company 
were strengthened by the conduct of the crown, which, 
greatly to the disadvantage of the association, granted 
to individuals the privilege of trading to India. The 
utmost efforts of the directors to obtain the recali of 
this license were ineffectual until 1640, when, upon the 
promise of its annulment, the corporation was required 
to raise a new joint stock in order to carry on the trade 
on a sufficiently extensive scale. ‘‘ It appears probable,” 
says a writer in the ‘ Companion to the Newspaper,’ - 
* from this and other circumstances, that in this early 
period of the Company’s operations, not only were the 
profits upon the adventures paid to the subscribers, but 
that the capital sum embarked was also returned to 
them at the winding up of' each adventure.” The 


engagement to withdraw the license of the rival com- 







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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 35 


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pany was, however, = not ae falAlled'; ani ; and both associations, 
feeling the disadvantage that resulted from competition, 
united their interests in 1650. But five years after 
a, schism occurred in the Company itself; for a body of 
the proprietors being dissatisfied with the management 
of the directors, obtained permission from Cromwell to 
fit out ships for trading with India, but this association, 
also, formed two years after a coalition with the parent. 
_company. Very soon after the Revolution, the Com- 
pany had a more formidable opposition to encounter. 
Capital had accumulated in the country, which the 
owners Wished to employ in commercial speculations ; 





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[Front of the Kast India House, Leadenhall Street. ] 


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their ae naits Hence the question was started 
whether the king could impose restrictions on commerce 
by a charter, and whether a sovereign, who possessed 
the sovereignty conditionally, could confer them on a 
privileged corporation : for the unlimited power of life 
and death. over British subjects in the East had been 
eranted in 1624; and in 1661 the right of making peace 
~and war with any prince or people, not being Christians, 
was conceded. The question was decided in the newative 
!by the House of Commons. But the king having, 
nevertheless, renewed the charter in 1693, the House 
passed a resolution, ‘‘' That it is the right of all I:nelish- 


and the people had come to a little understanding of | men to trade to the East Indies, or to any part of the 


oo 


86 


world, unless prohibited by act of parliament.” Rivals 
in the trade started up under the sanction of this decla- 
ration, and they ultimately succeeded, by an arrange- 
ment with the government, in obtaining a charter of 
incorporation. ‘his association, however, acted but fee- 
bly during the three years of notice to which the old 
Company was entitled; and so much inconvenience 
was found to result from the rivalship of the two corpo- 
rations, that a complete and final union was effected in 
1708, when they took the common name of “ The 
United Company of Merchants trading to the Hast 
Indies.” ‘The act of parliament which recognized this 
transaction, established the Company upon the footing 
on which, with some modifications, it remained until 
the recent alterations. The renewal of the charter 
in 1732 was not obtained without difficulty, and against 
much opposition.. The Company therefore thought it 
advisable, in 1744, to advance 1,000,000/. at an interest 
of 3 per cent., for the extension of their grant till 1780. 

During the transactions which we have thus briefly 
elanced over, the Company was gradually fixing its 
roots in India. The establishment of Fort St. George 
in 1640, the grant of Bombay in 1668, and the settle- 
ment of Calcutta in 1698, laid the foundation for the 
extension of its possessions into the interior of Hin- 
dostan, and for that power which rose on the ruins of 
the Mogul’s empire. But although, towards the con- 
clusion of the seventeenth century, the Company felt 
and avowed that territorial acquisitions were necessary 
for the security of its commerce, its political power in 
India can only be considered to have commenced 
subsequently to the renewal of its charter in 1744. 
Until that period the military organization of the Com- 
pany had been merely defensive, but it soon began to 
occupy such a situation as made it, to the native powers, 
all important ally, and no contemptible opponent. We 
cannot here even touch on the onward mareh of a 
power which now rules over ® population of 85,000,000 
natives of India, besides 51,000,000 who are directly 
or indirectly under its control. 

Such enormous expenses were incurred by the en- 
larvement of territory, that the Company was obliged to 
petition parliament, in 1773, for relief, In consequence 
of which it obtained a loan of 1,400,000/. for four 
years ; but, in return for this advance, and for the.sum 
of 400,000/. a year, which the Company had engaged 
to pay for permission to hold its territories, and which 
oovernment eneaged, for the time, to forego, parliament 
took occasion to make considerable changes in its con- 
stitution, and to assume a general regulation of its 
affairs. ‘To render the control of the government over 
the Company’s affairs the more efficient, a board of six 
privy councillors was established in 1784, with the duty 
of superintending its territorial concerns, and whose 
approval was made necessary to all its measures. The 
half-yearly inspection of its pecuniary accounts had 
been previously secured to the Treasury by the measure 
of 1773; but, on the renewal of the charter in 1813, it 
was directed that the accounts should be laid before 
parhament yearly; and, on the same occasion, the 
trade to India was thrown open to the public under 
certain regulations, while that to.China, and the trade in 
fea generally, were reserved exclusively to the Company. 
The important act of August 28, 1833, deprives the 
Company of its remaining commercial privileges, but 
leaves It in possession of the government of the British 
territories in India until 1854. 

Our wood-cut represents the front in Peadenhall 
Street of the East India House. In this building the 
courts are held, and all the official and general business 
transacted. ‘The present edifice was preceded by a 
smaller house, erected in 1726, which only occupied the 
extent of the present east wing. The inconvenient accom- 
modation which it afforded to the augmented business 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu l, 


of the Company led to the construction of the present 
fabric, which was executed from the designs of Mr. 
Jupp, in the years 1798 and 1799. <A portion of the 
interior of the old house was preserved; but by far the 
ereater part was erected from the ground, on the site of 
various buildings which had been purposely taken down. 
The front, composed of stone, is 200 feet long, and has 
an air of considerable grandeur, principally arising from 
the extent and elevation of its central portico, which 
consists of six Ionic columns, fluted, supporting an 
enriched entablature and pediment. The frieze is sculp- 
tured with ornaments, and the pediment exhibits several 
fieures emblematical of the commerce of the Company, 
protected by George III., who is represented as extend- 
ing a shield over them. On the apex of the pedimentis a 
statue of Britannia, at the east corner a figure of Asia 
seated on adromedary, and at the west another of Europe 
on a horse. ‘The interior has several noble apartments. 
The Grand Court Room contains a fine bas-relief, in 
white marble, representing Britannia, attended by F'a- 
ther Thames, while three female figures, emblematical 
of India, Asia, and Africa, present their various produc- 
tions. -Other principal rooms are adorned with portraits 
and statues of persons who have distinguished themselves 
in the Company’s service, and with paintings, chiefly of 
Indian scenery. ‘The Library contains an extensive 
collection of Oriental manuscripts, Chinese priuted 
books, Indian drawings, and copies of almost every work 
that has been published relative to Asia. The Museum 
abounds with Indian and other Asiatic curiosities of 
much interest, which are well worthy inspection. J*or 
the purpose of seeing the Museum, a director's order 
must be obtained. 





THE CAT PAINTER. 


Tue subject of this paper, Gottfried Mind, was a very 
remarkable man, with one pursuit,—almost with only 
one idea. In the exercise of the one talent which he 
possessed, he was highly distinguished. ~ In most other 
things, his power was not superior to that of ordinary 
men; in many respects, it was inferior. He was a 
painter of cats; and, with the exception of bears, which 
he occasionally delineated, he appeared to think that all 
other objects, however beautiful, were unworthy his 
notice. The following account is drawn from the ‘ Bio- 
graphie Universelle’ and the ‘ Biographie des Con- 
temporains.’ 

This remarkable person was born at Berne, in 
Switzerland, in the year 1768. His father, who sur- 
vived him, was a native of Hungary, but had settled at 
Berne, where he exercised the trade of a joiner. As 
Gottfned manifested a taste for drawing, his father 
placed him with Frudenberger, a clever artist; but 
who, neglecting or not percéiving Mind’s talent for 
design, employed him in colouring his ‘ Sketches of 
Helvetic Customs.’ For several years after the death 
of his master, he remained with the widow ; and appears 
to have been kept so constantly to his work that, if he 
possessed the inclination, so little time was allowed him 
for the cultivation of his mind, that he was scarcely 
able to write hisown name. Nevertheless, he sometimes 
contrived to steal a few moments from his manual 
labour to design children in their gambols and disputes ; 
and he scon learned to group his figures very success- 
fully, in the manner of F'rudenberger. We are not in- 
formed how his attention was first directed to the study 
of bears and cats, to which he became devoted with 
remarkable exclusiveness, earnestness, aud zeal, without 
which the most gifted can seldom attain the objects 
they pursue. ‘The truth and excellence with which 
Mind represented these two species of animals were 
without precedent ; and his drawings of cats, especially, 
were so admirable as to entitle him to the honourable, 


| but rather awkward, title of “ the Raphael of Cats,” 


1834,] 


by which he was distinguished. No painter before him 
had ever succeeded in representing, with so mnch of 
nature and spirit, the mingled humility and fierceness, 
suavity and cunning, which the appearance of this 
animal presents, or the grace of its various postures in 
action or repose. Kittens he particularly delighted to 
represent. He varied, to infinity, their fine attitudes 
whilst at play around the mother; and represented their 
gambols with inimitable effect. Each of his cats, too, 
had an individual character and expression, and was, in 
fact, a portrait, which seemed animated: the very -fur 
appeared so soft and silky as to teinpt a caressing stroke 
from the spectator. | 

In time, the merit of Mind’s perforinances caine to be 
so well understood that travellers made it a point to 
visit him, and to obtain, if possible, his drawings, which 
even sovereigns sought for, and amateurs treasured 
carefully in their portfolios. But it does not appear 
that popularity had any effect on him, either for good 
or evil, or in any degree modified his simple tastes and 
habits of life. His attachment was unbounded to the 
living animals he delighted to represent. Mind and 
his cats were inseparable. Minette, his favourite cat, 
was always near him when at work; and he seemed to 
carry on a sort of conversation with her by gestures and 
by words. Sometimes this cat occupied his lap, while 
two or three kittens were perched on each shoulder, 
or reposed in the hollow formed at the back of his 
neck, while sitting in a stooping posture at his table. 
Mind would remain for hours together in this posture 
without stirring, for fear of disturbing the beloved 
companions of his solitude, whose complacent purring 
seeined to him an ample compensation for the incon- 
venience. _ Not at any time what is called a good-. 
humoured man, he was particularly surly if disturbed 
by visiters when thus situated. 

Symptoms of madness having been manifested among 
the cats of Berne in the year 1809, the magistrates gave 
orders for their destruction. Mind exhibited the greatest 
distress when he heard of this cruel mandate. He 
cherished his dear Minette in secret; but his sorrow for 
the death of 800 cats immolated to the public safety was 
inexpressible, nor was he ever completely consoled. T'o 
soothe his regret, and as if to re-produce the victims 
with his pencil, he began to paint cats with increased 
diligence, and he amused the long evening's of the en- 
suing winter in cutting chesnuts into the miniature 
figures of bears and cats. ‘These fine trifles were exe- 
cuted with such astonishing address, that, notwithstand- 
ing his dexterity, he was unable to supply the demand 
ior them. But, being mostly employed as ornaments 
for the mantel-piece, they were soon attacked by worms, 
and there is scarcely reason to expect that any specimens 
of Mind’s talents in this line now exist. 

The secondary attachment of Mind was for bears; 
and he was a frequent visiter to the place where some 
of these animals were kept by the municipal authorities. 
Lhe artist and the bears soon became well acquainted. 
Lhey ran to meet him whenever they saw him approach, 
and received, with very sensible demonstrations of at- 
tachment and gratitude, the bread and fruit with which 
he always came provided. 

Next to cats and bears, the greatest pleasure of Gott- 
fried Mind consisted in examining works of art in which 
these or other animals were represented. ‘They might 
be introduced as very subordinate fizures, but he seemed 
quite insensible to any other beauties or defects which 
the performance might contain, and formed his opinion 
solely with a view to the animals represented. He was 
hard to please. Wo perfection iu a picture could atone 
for want of spirit in representing animals, particularly 
cats and bears. He had then no mercy to show. But 
when he found a work which met his ideas, hours and 
even days of study hardly sufficed to satisfy him. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


87 


Mind was short of stature, with a very large head, in 
which his eyes were deeply sunk. His complexion 
was of a ruddy brown; his voice hollow and rattling, 
which, joined to a sombre physiognomy, had a repulsive 
effect upon those who saw aud heard him for the first 


time. His death took place at Berne, November 8th, 
1814, 





BOOKS IN THE MIDDLE AGES. 


Tue orders which relate to books in the ‘Close Rolls’ 
of this period are interesting, not only as illustrating 
the literary taste of the age, but principally because 
they generally contain some circumstance which shows 
the scarcity and value of the article. It was not until 
a period. considerably subsequent to the invention of 
printing, that the cost and rarity of books ceased to 
obstruct the advancement of learning and the diffusion 
of knowledge. We may quote the statement of Henry, 
in his * History of Great Britain,’ that, in the middle 
ages, *‘ None but great kings, princes, and prelates, 
universities and monasteries, could have Jibraries; and 
the libraries of the greatest kings were uot equal to 
those of many private gentlemen or country clergymen 
in the present age. The Royal Library of France, 
which had been collected by Charles V., VI., and VIL., 
and kept with ereat care in one of the towers of the 
Louvre, consisted of about 900 volumes, and was pur- 
chased by the Duke of Bedford, a.p. 1425, for 1200 
livres. trom a ¢catalog~ue of that library still extant, it 
appears to have been chiefly composed of legends, his- 
tories, romances, and books on astrology, geomancy, 
and chiromancy, which were the favourite studies of 
those times. The kings of England were not so well 
provided with books. Henry V., who had a taste for 
reading, borrowed several books, which were claimed by 
their owners aiter his death. The Countess of West- 
moreland presented a petition to the Privy Council, 
A.D. 1424, representing, that the late king had bor- 
rowed a book from her, containing the ‘ Chronicles of 
Jerusalem,’ and the ‘ Expedition of Godfrey of Bou- 
logne;’ and praying that an order might be given, 


under the privy seal, for the restoration of the said 


book. ‘This order was granted with great formality. 
About the same time, John, the prior of Christ Church, 
Canterbury, presented a similar petition to the Privy 


‘Council, setting forth, that the king had borrowed from 


his priory a volume containing the works of St. Gregory ; 
that he had never returned it; but that, in his testa- 
ment, he had directed it to be restored ; notwithstanding 
which, the prior of Shine, who had the book, refused to 
eive if up. The Council, after mature deliberation, 
commanded a precept, under the privy seal, to be sent 
to the Prior of Shine, requiring him to deliver up the 
book, or to appear before the Council to give the 
reasons of his refusal. ‘These facts sufficiently prove 
that it must have been very difficult, or rather iim- 
possible, for the generality of scholars to procure a comn- 
petent number of books.” ‘The extreme costliness of 
the article rendered it no less difficult to borrow books 
than to buy them. ‘To illustrate this, the same writer, 
in another part of his work, quotes from Comines the 
fact, that Lovis Xf. was obliged to deposit a con- 
siderable quantity of plate, and to get one of his nobility 
to join with him in a bond under a high penalty to 
return it, before he could procure the loan of one 
volume, which may now be purchased for a few shil- 
lines. 

In a Close Roll, dated 29th of March, 1208, King 
John writes to the Abbot of Reading to acknowledge 
that he had received, by the hands of the sacrist of 
Reading, six volumes of books, containing the whole of 
the Old Testament. The receipt is also acknowledged 


| of *‘ Master Hugh de St. Victorie’s Treatise on the Sa- 


&5 


crament ;’ the ‘ Sentences of Peter the Lombard* ;’ the 
‘ Epistles of St. Augustine, on the City of God and on 
the Third Part of the Psalter ;’ ‘ Valerian de Moribus ;’ 
‘ Origen’s Treatise on the Old Testament ;’ and ‘ Candi- 
dus Arianus to Marius.’ The following month, the king 
wrote to the same abbot to acknowledge the receipt of 
his copy of Pliny, which the abbot had in his custody. 
In 1249 King Henry III. orders Edward, the son of 
Otho of Westminster, to cause to be purchased certain 
church-service books, and to give them to the consta- 
ble of Windsor Castle, that he might deliver them by 
his own hand to the officiating chaplains in the new cha- 
pel at Windsor, to be used by them; and they were then 
to be held responsible to the constable for “ this library,” 
consisting of eight books. Another Close Roll of the 
same king, dated 1250, commands Brother R. de San- 
ford, Master of the Knights of the Temple in England, 
to allow Henry of the Wardrobe, the bearer, to have 
for the queen’s use a certain great book which was in 
their house at London, written in the French dialect, 
containing ‘The Exploits of Antiochia, and of the 
Kings, and others.’ This work was probably a French 
translation of a Latin heroic Poem, entitled ‘ The War 
of Antioch, or the Third Crusade of Richard I.,’ writ- 
ten by Joseph of Exeter, otherwise called Josephus 
Iscanus ; and was perhaps wanted by the queen to elu- 
cidate the paintings in the ‘‘ Antioch Chamber.” It 
is observable that all the books mentioned in these Rolls 
are either in the Latin or French language. Indeed 
no English literature at that time existed, if we except 
some metrical chronicles and romances, chiefly trans- 
lations, of a very marvellous character, a few of which 
have, of late years, been printed from MSS. still extant. 





SWIFTNESS OF THE OSTRICH. 


Tue bird most celebrated for fleetness of running is the 
ostrich, or bird camel (Struthio Camelus), as it may 
well be named. ‘* What time she litteth up herself on 
high,” says Job, “ she scorneth the horse and his ridert.” 
According to Dr. Shaw, the wings serve her both for 
saiis and oars, whilst her feet, which have only two toes, 
and are not unlike the camel’s, can bear great fatigue. 
Though the ostrich is universally admitted to go faster 
than the fleetest horse, yet the Arabs on horseback con- 
trive to run these birds down, their feathers being valu- 
able, and their flesh not to be despised. ‘The best horses 
are trained for this chase. When the hunter has started 
his game, he puts his horse upona gentle gallop, so as 
to keep the ostrich in sight, without coming too near to 
alarm it and put it to its full speed. Upon observing 
itself pursued, therefore, it begins to run at first but 
vently, its wings like two arms keeping alternate motion 
with its feet.’ It seldom runs in a direct line; but, like 
the hare, doubles, or rather courses in a circular man- 
ner; while the hunters, taking the diameter or tracing 
a smaller circle, meet the bird at unexpected turns, and 
with less faticue to the horses. ‘This chaseis often con- 
tinued for a day or two, when the poor ostrich is starved 
out and exhausted, and finding all power of escape im- 
possible, it endeavours to hide itself from the enemies 
it cannot avoid, running into some thicket, or burying 
its head in the sand: the hunters then rush in at full 
speed, leading as much as possible against the wind, 
aud kill the bird with clubs, lest the feathers should be 
soiled with blood. 

M. Adanson saw two tame ostriches which had been 
kept two years at the factory of Podor, on the south 
bank of the Niger. ‘“‘ They were so tame,” he says, 


* Oneof the class of writers known as the “ Schoo'men.” This 
work obtained him the title of “the Master of the Sentences.’ 
Both he and Hugh de St. Victorie lived in the preceding century. 
The rest are old Latin authors. 

+ Job xxxix, 18. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 1], 1834. 


“ that two little blacks mounted both together on the 
back of the largest: no sooner did he feel their weight, 
than he began to run as fast as ever he could, till he car- 
ried them several times round the village; and it was im- 
possible to stop him, otherwise than by obstructing the 
passage. This sight pleased me so well, that I wonld 
have it repeated: and to try their strength, I made a 
full-grown negro mount the smallest, and two others 
the largest. ‘This burden did not seem to me at all dis- 
proportioned to their strength. At first they went a 
moderate gallop ; when they were heated a little they 
expanded their wing's as if it were to catch the wind, and 
they moved with such fleetness that they seemed to be off 
the eround. Everybody must some time or other have 
seen a partridge run, consequently must know there is 
10 man whatever able to keep up with it; and it is easy 
to imagine that if this bird had a longer step, its speed 
would be considerably augmented. The ostrich moves 
like the partridge, with both these advantages ; and I 
am satisfied that those I am speaking of would have 
distanced the fleetest race-horses that were ever bred in 
Eneland. It is true they would not hold out so long 
as ahorse; but without all doubt they would be able to 
perform the race in less time. I have frequently beheld 
this sight, which is capable of giving one an idea of 
the prodigious strength of an ostrich, and of showing 
what use it might be of, had we but the method of 
breaking it and managing it as we do a horse*.” 

The traveller, Moore, mentions that he saw a man 
journeying mounted upon an ostrich; though both this 
and the instance eiven by M. Adanson show the circum- 


stance to be of unusual occurrence.—Lrom the ‘ Fa- 
culties of Birds.’ 





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(Ostrich carrying a Negro.] 
* Voyage to Senegal, Pinkerton’s Collection, xvi, 619. 





A 


*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES SNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 


Printed by Witt1am Ciowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZI 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 








124.] 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Marcu 8, 1934. 





THE WHITE STORK. 


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[The Stork. | 


Tris tall and stately bird (Ciconia alba), although 
a visiter of the continent of Europe, from the north of 
Spain to Prussia, and particularly common in Holland, 
is only seen in this country as exhibited in menageries. 
It was once, however, common; and its almost com- 
plete extinction here is one of the many evidences of the 
changes which man produces by the operations of his 
industry. The marshy grounds, which formerly existed 
to a great extent in England, have been drained and 
cultivated. One or two solitary storks have been shot 
in this country during the present century. The bird 
generally stands from three-and-a-half to four feet high, 
including the long neck. The feet are webbed, and the 
legs are exceedingly long, and do not appear of a thick- 
ness commensurate to the bulk they sustain. The neck 
is also of great length; and the beak is straight, long, 
pointed, and compressed. The stork walks slowly, and 
with measured steps; but its flight is powerful and 
Jong continued, and it is accustomed to traverse the 


Vou, ILI. 


' tions on such platforms, 


higher regions of the air. The stork represented in 
our wood-cut is an adult male, copied, by permission, 
from Mr. Gould’s splendid work on the ‘ Birds of 
Europe.’ ‘This beautiful publication, in its design and 
execution, is as creditable to the country as to its 
author. 

Storks are birds of passage. ‘They spend the winter 
in the deserts of Africa and Arabia, and in summer 
return to towns and villages in colder latitudes, where 
they build their nests on the summits of old towers and 
belfries, on the chimnies of the highest houses, and 
sometimes in dead trees. In marshy districts, where 
the services of the bird in destroying reptiles are of 
peculiar value, the people frequently fix an old cart- 
wheel, by the nave, in an horizontal position, to the 
extremity of a strong perpendicular pole ;—am accom- 
modation which seems so very eligible to the birds, 
that they rarely fail to construct their capacious habita- 
The nest is a large cylindrical 


S50 


structure, built very strongly and durably with sticks, 
twies, and strong reeds; and lined on the inside with 
fine dry herbs, mosses, and down gathered from the 
bushes. These fabrics last many years, and to them 
the faithful couples yearly direct their unerring course, 
from far distant regions, to deposit their eggs, and 
rear their young. 

The eggs in a nest vary in number; not less than 
two, and seldom exceeding four. The female covers 
‘hese with the most tender solicitude, Instances are 
recorded in which she has rather chosen to die than 
resion her charge. An affecting incident of this 
nature occurred on the day of the “ memorable battle of 
Friedland,” as related by M. Bory de St. Vincent, in 
an article of the ‘ Encyclopédie Moderne.’ <A farm in 


the neighbourhood ‘of the city was set cn fire by the | 


falling of a bomb, and the conflagration extended to 
an old dry tree on which a pair of storks had built 
their nest. It was then the season of incubation, and 
the mother would not quit the nest until it was com- 
pletely enveloped in flame. She then flew up perpen- 
dicularly ; and, when she had attained to a great height, 
dashed down into the midst of the fire, as if endeavouring 
to rescue the precious deposit from destruction. In one 
of these descents, enveloped in fire and smoke, she fell 
into the midst of the burning embers, and perished. 

This constancy during the period of incubation 1s 
succeeded by the most assiduous care in the rearing of 
the young. The parents never lose sight of them. 
While one of the two is abroad in search of serpents, 
lizards, frogs, or snails, the other remains in charge of 
the nest. When the young have acquired strength and 
vigour, it is highly interesting to observe the tender 
couple assist them in their first career through the air. 
‘he progeny are said to repay this care and kindness, 
when the parents are old and feeble, by supporting 
their wings, when weary, in the long flights of their 
migration. But though it be true that the weak and 
old are thus assisted by the vigorous and young, we 
have no means of knowing that the assistants are the 
progeny of the assisted. The parents and the young 
coutinue to live together uutil the season of migration. 
for about a fortnight previous to that event, all the 
storks of the district asseinble frequently in some neigh- 
bouring plain, and appear to hold a council to determine 
the destination, and the time of departure. 

When they at leneth take their departure, the flocks 
are generally of great extent, aud vary much in com- 
pactness. ‘They are sometimes, according to Dr. Shaw, 
halfa mile in breadth, and take three hours in passing. 
As they have no voice, their course is usually unattended 
by any noise but that of their wings; but, when any- 
thing occurs to startle them, or engage their attention, 
they make an extraordinary clattering noise, which may 
be heard to a great distance, by striking the mandibles 
quickly and forcibly together. By their migrations, 
they enjoy at all times a nearly equal temperature ; 
avoiding those severe seasons in which the reptiles 
that form their food remain hid and torpid during a 
‘onsiderable part of the year. 

There is a peculiar interest attached to this bird, from 
the efficient protection which, in all ages and countries, 
it has received from mau. In ancient Egypt it was a 
capital crime to kill a stork ; and there, and elsewhere, 
iis safety and existence are still defended by penal laws. 
Indeed, there is, perhaps, no country which it is ac- 
customed to visit where its death would not be avenged, 
either by legal penalties or popular indignation. ‘This 
protection is, doubtless, in some measure owing to 
the amiable dispositions it exhibits; but must chiefly 
be attributed to the importance of its services in destroy- 
ing the reptiles which abound in the districts that it 
usually frequents. The protection it receives is returned 
by the confidence with which the stork constructs its 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


a 


[Marcu 8, 


domicile.in the midst of the inost densely populated 
cities, and views from it the near approach of man 
without alarm. 

In Bagdad, and some other of the more remote cities 
of Asiatic Turkey, the nests of storks present a very 
remarkable appearance. The minars, or towers of the 
mosques, at Constantinople, and most other parts of 
Turkey, are tall, round pillars, surmounted by a very 
pointed cone; but at Bagdad, the absence of this cone 
enables these birds to build their nests upon the 
summit; and as the diameter of the nest generally 
corresponds with that of the minar, it appears as a part 
of it, and a regular termination to it. The curious 
effect is not a little increased by the appearance of the 
bird itself in the nest, which thus, as part of the body 
and its long neck are seen above the edge, appears 
the crowning object of the pillar. The Turks hold the 
bird in more than even the usual esteem, which may be 
partly attributed to its eesticulations, which they suppose 
to resemble some of their own attitudes of devotion. 
Their name for the stork is Hadjt Lug-lug : the former 
word, which is the honorary title of a pilgrim, it owes 
to its annual migrations, and its apparent attachment 
to their sacred edifices. The latter portion of the 
denomination, “‘ lug-lug,” is an attempt to imitate the 
noise which the bird makes. The reward of the Turks 
is so far understood and returned by the intelligent 
stork, that, in cities of mixed population, it rarely or 
never builds its nest on any other than a Turkish house. 
The Rev. J. Hartley, in his ‘ Researches in Greece and 
the Levant,’ remarks :—‘* The Greeks have carried 
their antipathy to the Turks to such a pitch, that they 
have destroyed all the storks in the country. On in- 
quiring the reason, I was informed ‘ The stork is a 
Turkish bird: it never used to build its nest on the 
house of a Greek, but always on that of a Turk! The 
tenderness which the ‘Turks display towards the feathered 
tribe is indeed a pleasing trait in their character.” 


THE LABOURERS OF EUROPE.—No. IX. 


Tue PEASANTRY OF THE ALPs.—Savoy. 


THe vast chain, or rather chains of the Alps, with their 


-numerous ramifications, enclose several extensive coun- 


tries inhabited by various races. The principal ones 
are Savoy, Switzerland, the Gmrisons, the Tyrol, and 
several valleys on the Italian side of the inountains. 
Throughout all these countries the great outlines of the 
landscape are much alike; but the soil, the climate, and 
the products of the several districts are greatly varied, 
as well as the habits, character, and institutions of the 
people. We shall devote a separate sketch to each of 
these great. divisions of the Alpine system. 

Savoy is situated on the western slope of the Alps, 
which divide it from Italy. Another offset of the same 
mountains divides it on the south from France, from’ 
which country it is likewise separated to the west by. 
the river Rhone and another ridge which is an offset 
of the Jura. Savoy is neither French nor Italian ; it is 
eeorraphically connected more properly with Switzer- 
land. Its inhabitants speak among themselves a native 
dialect ; most of them, however, know French also, and 
all educated people speak it fluently and correctly. 
The country has been for nearly eight hundred years 
under the dominion of the House of Savoy, who were 
at first lords or counts of one of its valleys called Mau- 
rienne, and who by degrees subjected or inherited the 
remainder from the other feudal lords of the country. 
When, afterwards, the dukes cf Savoy, having acquired 
fine and extensive provinces on the Italian side of the 
Alps, transferred their residence to Turin, where they 
at last assumed the title of Kings of Sardinia, Savoy 
remained a province of the monarchy with the title of 

| duchy, 


1834,] | 


The eastern part of Savoy consists of deep valleys | 


embedded in the highest Alps, which follow the course 
of the rivers that issue from the main ridge, and 
afterwards flow into the Rhone. The three principal 
of these valleys are Faucieny, Tarentaise, and Mauri- 
eune. Hach of these constitutes a province, and con- 
tains towns and villases. The northernmost province, 
called Chablais, is likewise very mountainous, but it 
opens to the lake of Geneva, of which it forms the 
southern coast. The western part of Savoy is more 
level, and the people are chiefly employed in agricul- 
ture. But in the great valleys, the rearing of cattle is 
the chief resource of the inhabitants. ‘The whole popu- 
lation of Savoy is about half a million. 

- Besides the nobility, which is numerous but not rich, 
there are three classes of people -in Savoy. First, the 
bourgeois, or citizens, who are freemen of the different 
towns, and who are generally proprietors, having a 
sufficient income to live upon. The bourgeoisie or free- 
dom may be purchased under certain conditions; the 
purchase money goes to the support of the hospitals 
and other public uses, and part of it serves to defray the 
expense of a civic feast on the reception of the new 
member. The second class consists of farmers, whether 
tenants or proprietors, cultivating their own land ; they 
live frngally, but are generally comfortable. The third 
class is composed of artisans and journeymen labourers : 
the former are mostly foreigners or sons of foreigners, 
and they are well employed and paid, but the agricul- 
tural labourers are generally poor, and live wretcliedly. 
It is from this class that travellers derive their 
notions of the misery of Savoy. And yet they are 
not all so very distressed. - A labourer receives from 
Is. tu ls. 3d. per day, and half the amount if he is 
boarded. A carpenter or wheelwright has two francs, 
or Is. 8d.a day. With these wages he can purchase 
sufficient wholesome food for himself and family, ac- 
cording to the frugal manner in which they live. But 
then he has to deduct about seventy days in the year, 
consisting of Sundays and other holidays, as he is paid 
by the day. Again, during part of the winter he either 
has no employment or works at reduced wages. These 
difficulties induce many to emigrate. The convents at 
one time supplied food to the poor, but the convents 
have been suppressed, and no provision has been made 
for the poor in lieu of them. ‘The farmers who tenant 
the lands of the wealthier proprietors, especially in the 
lowlands and near the towns, are either grangers (ano- 
ther word for metayers), who deliver one-half of the 
produce to the proprietor, mostly in kind, which the 
latter sells in the market, or t@cheurs, who are remove- 
able at the end of every year, and who give the pro- 
prietor four-fifths of the corn, half the wine, and half 
the produce of the dairy. eases are generally for 
three years only. 

The inhabitants of the mountains are more comfort- 
able than those of the lower valleys or plains of western 
Savoy. ‘This is owing to the rich pastures which the 
Alps spontaneously afford. The riches of a mountain 
peasant are estimated by the number of cows he can 
keep during the winter, for he must have sufficient land 
to supply them with fodder while they are kept in the 
stables. A man having twenty-five cows is considered 
wealthy. Many peasants have meadows, and rude 
habitations called chalets, made of logs of wood. In 
winter they live at the bottom of the valley where their 
principal residence is, comprising the dwelling-room 
for their family and stabling for their cattle, often in 
the same building, divided by a partition. The neigh- 
bourhood of the cattle contributes to the warmth of 
the house. In the spring, they ascend gradually as 
the heat pushes out vegetation and the snow retires 
from the ground. In the autumn, they descend by the 
same gradations. : 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


91 


There are three sorts of natural pastures: the hichest 
ones, which are only for the summer months, and are 
mostly common land; those lower down the sides of 
the mountains, which are generally excellent, many 
affording three annual crops of erass, aud which might 
be further improved by artificial irrigation; and the 
lowest ones, which are at the bottom; and are mostly 
marshy and chill. The less wealthy peasants find a 
great resource in the common pastures, to which they 
send as many cows as they can afford to keep in the 
winter, for that is the main consideration. The poor, 
who have no meadows to supply fodder for the winter 
months, cannot avail themselves of the common pasture 
lands. Hight days after the cows have been driven up 
into the common pasture, all the owners assemble, and 
the quantity of milk given by each cow is weighed. 
The same operation is repeated one day in the middle 
of the summer, and again at the end of the season; and 
then the quantity of cheese and butter, which is made in 
common at the chalet or dairy, is divided according to 
the quantity of milk each cow yielded on the days of 
trial, ‘There are also public dairies in some of the vil- 
lages, where the poorer peasants may bring all the 
milk they can spare from their daily use. The milk 
being measured, an account is kept of it, and at the 
end of the season a proportionate quantity of cheese is 
delivered to each, after a deduction for the cost of 
making it. 

Not many large flocks of sheep are kept in the val- 
leys of Savoy, as they require to be housed during the 
winter, when they are fed chiefly upon dried leaves of 
trees. Poor families keep a few sheep to supply them 
with wool for their domestic use. ‘“‘ hese little flocks 
are driven home every evening, generally accompanied 
by a goat or a cow, a pig, and an ass, and followed by a 
young girl spinning with a distaff. As they wind down 
the lower slopes of the mountains they form the most 
picturesque groups for the pencil of the painter, and 
carry back the imagination to the ages of pastoral sim- 
plicity sung by 'Theocritus and Virgil *.” 

Emigration during winter is general among the 
poorer peasantry of the higher valleys. The men leave 
their homes in the autumn, and proceed to France or 
Italy in quest of work, while their wives take care of 
the house, and spin and weave during the long winter 
evenings, for they make all their clothing at home. At 
the beginning of spring the men return to work: in the 
fields or drive the cattle up the Alps. ‘The younger 
emigrants wander farther, and remain sometimes absent 
for years; they proceed to Lyons and Paris, where 
they find employment as chimney-sweepers, shoe-blacks, 
hawkers, and errand-boys (commiisstonaires), and are 
to be seen at the corners of the streets of the French 
metropolis, where they bear an excellent character for 
honesty and sobriety. There is a difference remarked 
between the emigrants of the different valleys. Those 
from the Maurienne, which is the poorest, are the most 
numerous and also the humblest in their vocations; they 
are chiefly chimney-sweepers or shoe-blacks ; those from 
Tarantasia are more aspiring, for although they begin 
by the same callings, they often raise themselves in 
some branch of trade ; and many have established houses 
in various parts of France. The emigrants of Fau- 
cieny are mostly carpenters and stone-masons. They 
possess much mechanical ingenuity, and are the best 
informed among the mountaineers of Savoy. The best 
hunters of chamois are also to be met in Fauciguy ; 
and they follow that dangerous sport with an ardour 
extinguished only by death. The people of Faucigny 
export cattle, cheese, butter, flax, and houey,—which 
last is very much esteemed. Those of Maurienne and 
Tarantasia export likewise cattle and mules to Pied- 
mont and to France: they supply the markets of Turin 

* Bakewell’s § Residence in ‘Tarantasia.’ 


N 2 





92 


with butchers’ meat, hides, butter, and cheese. 
of the cheese, called of Mont Cenis, and somewhat re- 
sembling Stilton, is made in the Maurienne. The 
cheese of Tarantasia resembles the, well-known Swiss 
cheese called Gruyere. . ‘The .people. live. chiefly on. the 
preduce of their dairies : :they,eat .rye-bread, or cakes 
made of oatmeal and rye, which are baked twice in the 
year, chestnuts, and now and then a piece of salt meat. 
The land in Tarantasia is more productive than in the 
Maurienne or Faucigny; the valley is better sheltered 
from the north winds; and fruit-trees, the vine, barley, 
and buck-wheat, are cultivated there to the very foot of 
the little St. Bernard. Accordingly, the peasants of 
Tarantasia are more comfortable than their neih- 
bours ; their houses are better built, and kept cleaner 
than those of the Maurienne. ‘Tarantasia is rich in 
minerals, ‘The lead and silver mines of Pesci and 
Macot are worked on account of the government. They 
give employment to 600 persons of both sexes. <A 
school of mineralogy has been established at Montiers, 

the head town of ‘Tarantasia. ‘The salt-pits, near 
Montiers, furnish another branch of industry. There 
are mineral-springs at La Perrier, which begin to be 
frequeuted by strangers, and also at Bonneval, near thie 
foot of the highest Alps.. The people of ‘larantasia are 
peaceable, honest, and hospitable. Vhe attachment of 
the Savoyards to,their native mountains is a feeling 
which lasts for their whole lives. In almost every little 
town or village there are gifts left by natives, who, after 
many years’ residence in distant countries, have returned 
in their advanced age. ‘It is in the churches chiefly that 
such gifts are:seen, for the Savoyards are a religious 
people, though not superstitious. 

Marriages in these mountains are attended with 
much festivity and ceremony. When a young man is 
first admitted to spend the evening at the house of a 
maid to whom he wishes to pay his addresses, he 
watches the arrangement of the fire-place, where several 
billets of wood are blazing. If the fair one lifts up one 
of the billets and places it upright against the side of 
the fire-place, it is a sign. she does not: approve of her 
suitor. If she leaves the blazing wood undisturbed, the 
young man may-be sure of her consent. ‘The prelimi- 
naries of the contract are soon arranged. The bride- 
groom makes a present to his betrothed as a pledge of 
his sincerity, and the following Saturday the contract is 
signed. At the marriage festival, twenty-four hours are 
passed i in rejoicing, for this is the most important event 
in the life of these simple mountaineers. 
church, often at a great distance from the various 
hamlets scattered on the mountain-sides, is the only 
place of meeting in these districts. ‘There, once a 
week, the various families see each other's faces. After 
a week's separation from all the rest of mankind, 
amidst wild solitudes where nothing is heard but the 
noise of the torrent and the roar of the storm, the 
sound of the church-bell has a peculiar charm, and the 
meeting at church is a real festival. _ Accordingly, the 
Savoyards take particular care of their churches ; which, 
even in the poorest and most mountainous parishes, are 
neat, and often handsome, and kept in good repair, 
whilst their own habitations are rudely constructed, and 
often dilapidated. 


LEONARDO DA VINCI. 


LEONARDO DA ViINcI was born in the castle of Vinoi, 
near Florence, in the year 1452. He was the illegiti- 
mate son of a person of noble descent, who. exercised 
the profession of a notary. It appears that young 
Leonardo soon began to exhibit powers of mind and 
personal endowments, which his father. contemplated 


with pride and satisfaction, and took the proper. mea- 


sures to cultivate. He was handsome, well-formed, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 
Most - 


He made a model ; 


‘finish it ; 


The parish. 


commode him. 


[Marcu 3, 


and possessed of great bodily strength; and to his phy- 
sical accomplishments he joined at a very early period 
an extraordinary inclination for the arts and sciences. 
Not content to excel in fencing, horsemanship, dancing, 
and music, he had in early youth acquired a consider- 
able knowledge of mathematics, natural science, philo- 
sophy, and the various branches of literature. The 
zeal and success with which he applied himself to such 
miscellaneous pursuits did not impair his taste for 
painting ; which, indeed, so predominated, that Nis 
family placed him as a student with Andrea Verocchio, 
in whose school he found Pietro Perugino, the future 
master of Raphael. Under Verocchio, Leonardo made 
so rapid a progress, that he soon surpassed his master, 
who. was at: first charmed with his pupil, but at last 
became jealous of him. . 

After this event, Leonardo remained sufficiently long: 
at Florence to establish a reputation, and acquire con- 
fidence in his own powers. He possessed great talents, 
profound skill, and a discerning judgment; to these he 
added untiring industry and continued perseverance. 
To these latter qualities he of course owes much of his 
fame; he was all his life a learner ;. and, in his pecu- 
liar art, always on the watch to seize and appropriate 
the hints which the observation of nature supplied. 

In the year 1489, Leonardo went to Milan to execute 
an equestrian statue, which the Duke Ludovico Sforza 
ititended to erect to his father. -His many accomplish- 
ments and professional merits procured him a distin- 
guished reception from the prince, whose subsequent 
strong attachment to Leonardo was equally honourable 
to himself and the artist. He was appointed Director 


.of the Academy of Painting and Architecture, which 


his patron had founded. ‘The period of Leonardo’s 


stay at Milan was probably the happiest of his life: 


he possessed the confidence and esteem of the duke: 
his supremacy in art was unquestioned; and the in- 
tervals of his severer studies, as a sculptor, painter, 
engineer, and mechanist, were solaced with music, 
poetry, and literature. Jt seems uncertain whether he 
ever completed the statue of the Duke Francesco. 
but on a scale so exceedingly co- 
lossal that it was deemed impracticable to cust it in 
bronze. . Leonardo himself said the work was so great 


that he might labour all his life without bringing it 


It is affirmed, however, that he did 
but that, with the model, it was destroyed in 
the revolution of. 1499. Its height i is said to have been 
seventy-two feet, and the weight two hundred thousand 
pounds. 

In the list of the undertakings performed by Leo- 
nardo at Milan, there are several by which the versa- 
tility of his talents is indicated. As an engineer, he 
triumphed over difficulties which had been considered 
insurmountable, by effecting a junction between the 
canals of Martesana and Ticino ; and his mechanical 
skill was exhibited by several ingenious machines and 
automatons, which our limits do not permit us to par- 
ticularize. His pencil was not unemployed at Milan, 
for it was there. that, among other works, he painted 
the famous picture of the “ Last Supper,” in the 
refectory of the Dominicans, by the express order of 
the duke. ‘This splendid monument of the genius of 
Leonardo da Vinci is copied in our wood-cut, which 
will convey to our readers some idea of the arrangement 
and general character of the performance, in speaking 
of which we cannot do better than quote the description 
and opinion of another great painter, Rubeus. “ The 
best example of his genius which Leonardo has left us 
is, the ‘ Last Supper. In this picture he has re- 
presented the Apostles in places suitable to them: but 
our Saviour is,in the midst of all ; in the most honour- 
able place, with no firure near enough to press or in- 
“His attitude is grave, with the arms 


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to a completion. 


93 


E. 


THE PENNY MAGAZIN 


1834.] 


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in a loose and free posture, 


94 


degree of perfection that it seems impossible to speak 
as highly of him as he deserves, and much more im- 
possible to imitate him.” 

When Leonardo undertook this his great work, he 
commenced with the Apostles, employing on them all 
that his genius suggested to make the expression perfect. 
But when he came to the person of Christ, he could find 
nothing so much superior to the character of the other 
heads as to represent worthily the sublime idea he had 
conceived of the Son of God; and, in consequence, in 
sll the subsequent period of his life, it was never finished 
by him. It was only a sketch when he died. This 
anecdote recalls that of the ancient painter, who ex- 
nressed by a veil the grief of Agamemnon, which he 
despaired of representing. The head of Judas was also 
left for a considerable time unfinished, from the difficulty 
the artist experienced in expressing that combination of 
malign dispositions which he wished to exhibit in his 
countenance. The deficiency is said to have been thus 
supplied :—the prior of the convent, a hard and harsh 
man, being displeased at the delay, complained to the 
duke on the subject, who spoke somewhat sharply 
about it to the artist, and he, to be revenged, drew an 
exact likeness of the prior in the person of the traitorous 
apostle. 

In connexion with this picture, we find, in the 
‘ Biographie Universelle,’ an anecdote worth relating. 
When Bonaparte, at that time general of the French 
army in Italy, visited, in 1796, the hall of the church of 
‘““S” Maria delle Grazie,’ and saw there the “ Last 
Supper ” of Leonardo da Vinci, he immediately wrote 
upon his knee an order of the day to the effect that 
this place should not be employed to lodge the military. 
After the departure of the French army, the refectory 
was used alternately as a granary and a stable; but 
when Eugene Beauharnois became viceroy of Italy, he 
directed the place to be thoroughly cleaned out and set 
in order, and that a sort of platform should be raised to 
enable the spectator to view the picture more nearly. 

Leonardo remained at Milan, after that city, had 
been taken by the French under Louis XII., who 
treated the artist with much consideration. But he was 
induced, by the subsequent events of the war, to return 
to Florence, where he found Michael Angelo exercising 
his profession with great reputation and success. The 
rivalry and bitter feeling which arose between them is 
much to be regretted; and it is asscrted that Michael 
Angelo did not treat the venerable artist with that 
consideration to which he was entitled. ‘The result 
of this rivalry was a trial of skill between them, 
Leonardo painting a cartoon representing the defeat of 
Nicolo Piccinino, one of the greatest generals of Italy ; 
and Michael Angelo another, which had for its subject 
an episode in the siewe of Pisa by the Florentines. 
Such high excellence was exhibited in both these per- 
formances, that good judges hesitated to say to which 
the preference was due. 
Leonardo was then an aged man, while Michaet Angelo 
was in the prime of life, it was surely a sufficient praise 
to say of the former that he was not overcome. ‘These 
cartoons were destroyed in the wars of which Lombardy 
was long the theatre; but though materials still exist 
for instituting a comparison between these two very 
eminent painters, we can only here state that Leonardo 
certainly possessed inventive power jn a more eminent 
degree, while, in the universality of his talents, perhaps 
few men in any age have surpassed him. We can un- 
derstand and sympathize in the feeling which provoked 
him to say to his rival, ** I was already famous before 
you existed.” 

The disagreement with Michael Angelo made the 
residence of Leonardo at Florence so uncomfortable, 


] p i ° ae ° 
that he was glad of an opportunity of going to Rome 


with Giuliano de’ Medici, who was proceeding to that 


THE. PENNY MAGAZINE. 


But when it is considered that | 
sant homes for more remote sitnations. 


frontier. 





[Marcu 8, 


city to assist at the coronation of his brother Leo X. 
It seems, however, that the pontiff had been prejudiced 
against the illustrious author of the “‘ Last Supper,” the 


slow and scrupulous execution of which he criticised 


with much affectation. It is related that the pope went 
one day to visit the great artist, and found him busily 
occupied in some chemical processes, the object of 
which was to obtain a new kind of varnish. ‘ This 
man,” remarked Leo, “ never finishes anything, be- 
cause he thinks about the end of his work before it is 
begun.” In this observation there would have been 
some truth if one who laboured for immortality could 
be too careful and exact. Leonardo was certainly slow 
in finishing his works; for his objéct was less to do 
much than to do well. 

Discouraged by his cold reception at Rome, Leo- 
nardo returned to Florence, and proceeded from thence 
to Parma and Milan, where he listened to the proposals 
of Francis I., and towards the end of 1515 decided on 
proceeding to France. The king, then at Fontaine- 
blean, gave him the most honourable reception, and 
lodged him at the palace of Amboise, where he remained 
until his death, which took place on the 2nd of May, 
1519. It is commonly said that he expired on the 


bosom of the king; but as the court was at that time 


at St. Germain’s, an expression to that effect in the 
epitaph of Leonardo probably means no more than a 
figurative allusion to his death under the friendly root 
of Francis I. 


MEHMANDARS. 


STRANGERS of any consideration travelling in Persia are 
furnished with an officer called a mehmandar, whose 
business it is to provide for their accommodation on the 
road. The rank and authority of the mehmandar varies 
with the consideration due to the party he attends. 
Princes of the royal blood have acted as mehmanders to 
English embassies. Of whatever rank however, these 
officers are armed with very great powers, which, as 
they are seldom moderately exercised, are. very ob- 
noxious to the people, and, in frequented roads, press 
heavily on their resources. They are authorized to 
claim for themselves, and the parties they escort, food 
ready dressed, and provender for the cattle; they can 
oblige the most respectable inhabitants to vacate their 
own houses for the reception of the strangers; and they 
possess, or at least exercise, the power of making the 
people give them such horses as they fancy, in the place 
of their own. For all this, so far is any payment from 
being made, that the poor people may think them- 
selves happy if the mehmandar does not exert his for- 
midable powers in extorting money from them, either 
with or without a pretext. ‘The consequesice of this 
system is, that some of the finest villages in the empire, 


placed in the most eligible and fruitful situations which 


it affords, are soon depopulated if much exposed to 
such visits, as the inhabitants then forsake their piea- 


The first occasion which the writer of this article had 


‘of becoming acquainted with a mehmandar was on 


leaving the fortified town of Shousha in the Karabaugh, 
when the Russian commandant appointed a ‘Tartar 
mehmandar to accompany his party to the Persian 
The conductor thus supplied was a fine 
young man, well mounted, splendidly dressed, and 
fiercely armed. As during this part of the journey 
there were few or no villages, and we uniformly en- 
camped in the open air, usually near some river, the 
services of this mehmandar presented no such ob- 
noxious: circumstances as we have mentioned; but 
were limited to regulatme the order and direction of 
our march, to indicating eligible situations for the mid- 
day hali, or the evening encampment, and to furnish- 


‘Ing information concerning the various objects we saw. 


1834,] 


tie accompanied us to the Persian side of the Araxes, 
and, being then gratified with a pecuniary present, and 
with a certificate that his behaviour had been satis- 
factory, aud that he had conducted us safely to the 
appouited place, left us to prosecute alone our Journey 
through Azerbijan. 

When we left Tabreez, the capital of that province, 
another mehmandar was appointed to attend our party 
to the Turkish frontier. This person was entirely dif- 
ferent both in conduct and personal appearance from 
the former. He was an older man, not so well dressed 
or mounted, the possessor of a very fine beard, and of 
a countenance exhibiting a character somewhat rough 
and very decided. Ali (which was his name, as it is 
that of perhaps one-third of all the males in Persia) 


endeavoured to make himself useful and agreeable to 


us; but his exhibitions of zeal in our service were so 
Ul-advised as to occasion far more difficulty than his 
presence prevented. We had stipulated that, on all 
occasions, we would pay for our food and accommoda- 
tion; and that, where a place afforded a khan, he 
should not claim admittance for us to a private house. 

On approaching the termination of a day’s journey, 
it was the custom of the mehmandar to gallop on 
before us to provide for our accommodation; and, on 
our arrival, we usually found him engaged in some 
unpleasant transaction or other. Among such we re- 
member that, on entering the caravanserai in the town 
of Maindoh, we found Ali in a foam of rage, and 
engaged in plying the terrible Persian horsewhip on 
the shoulders of an elderly merchant of respectable 
appearance, whose offence was this :—the mehmander, 
ou examining the rooms of the caravanserai through 
the windows, had selected that for our accommodation 
which this man already occupied; and as he seemed 
unwilling to relinquish his quarters, and delayed to open 
the door, Ali broke it down; and then, conceiving that 
re did not exhibit sufficient alacrity in clearing out the 
apartment, began to belabour him in the manner 
described. ‘The man took the chastisement with in- 
expressible meekness as a customary circumstance, and 
exhibited much surprise at our interposition in his 
behalf. 

Shortly after this transaction we entered Koordistan, 
and we hoped that his knowledge of the fierce and 
passionate character of the Koords, and their hatred to 
the Persians, would make our mehmandar more guarded 
auld moderate than he had been among his own country- 
men. We were disappointed. After a long and tire- 
some ride through incessant rain, we arrived one even- 
ing in sight of the Koordish village of Adschtappa, and 
the menmandar, as usual, galloped on to prepare: for 
our reception. When we came up we found the whole 
village in an uproar; and proceeding, saw the meh- 
mandar in the court of a cottage, standing with his 
back to the wall, and surrounded by resolute-looking 
men,—the long, knotted, and dangling cords of whose 
turbans gave them a particularly wild appearance,— 
clamouring vehemently with our conductor, against 
whom they seemed highly excited; while, somewhat 
more aloof, the women screamed, and the dogs barked, 
in the chorus of abuse. On our approach to the scene 
of action the excitement appeared to increase. We 
were forcibly beaten back with clubs on attempting to 
ride into the yard. Ali himself received several blows ; 
and some women, who had mounted the wall behind 
him, threw dewn stones upon his head. He was at 
last so irritated that he drew his sabre, on which several 
of the Koords drew their long yataghans and pressed in 
upon him. On this, the gentlemen of our party dis- 
inounted, auc intérposed, in a conciliatory manner, 
between the parties; and, though unarmed, succeeded 
in Inducing them to put up their weapons, and in some- 
what allaying the tumult, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| described. 


95 


more readily done as the Koords felt they were too near 
Tabreez to escape punishment if any serious injury were 
received by our party; and, on the other hand, we 
knew that we should all be sacrificed if a single Koord 
were killed, or even wounded, by the mehmander. This 
affray had been occasioned by his insolence and in- 
discretion. On his arrival he had selected the best 
house in the place, and ordered the occupants to clear 
it out for our reception. To this no objection was 
made: but thinking that this labour was not perforined 
with sufficient alacrity, he began to horsewhip the 
women, on which they ran away and complained to the 
men, who assembled and assaulted him in the manner 
‘We are not Persians, to bear such treat- 
ment!” was their frequent exclamation on this occa. 
sion. We decidedly took part with them, and freely 
censured the conduct of the mehmandar, at the same 
time explaining that it was our custom always to pay 
for our provisions and accommodation. The man, how- 
ever, whose women had been maltreated, would not 
admit us into his house, and we remained in the midst 
of the village, under a heavy rain, despairing of obtain- 
ine shelter for the night, when one man took pity upon 
us, and-invited us to share with his family and cattle 
the scanty accommodations of his cabin. 

This mehmandar conducted us to the town of Suli- 
manieh, which is governed by a ‘Turkish pasha, who, 
when we left it, appointed a very stately person, with 
several servants in his train, to escort our party to 
Bagdad. We had before this been very much at the 
mercy of our muleteer, a rough, white-bearded old man, 
whe cared far more about his cattle than about their 
riders. But he was obliged, with a very ill grace, to 
become a mere cypher under our new conductor, whose 
servants took a singular delight in horsewhipping him 
when any thing amiss in the caravan afiorded them 
an excuse. ‘They were Koords, and a Koord rarely 
omits any safe opportunity of displaying the hatred 
with which he regards a Persian. Before the power of 
Ibrahim, our new mehmandar, all difficulties vanished : 
the best accommodation was ready for us, and the best 
food was forthcoming. In one village we were lodged 
in the mosque, Christians as we were, while the people 
assembled at the stated hours to their prayers on its roof. 
ibrahim at first would allow us to pay nothing. He 
said we were the guests of the Pasha, and he dured 
not permit us to incur expense. We were, however, 
so much distressed to see the heavy countenances with 
which the poor people brought to our lodgings their 
rice, bread, fowls, eggs, and fruits, that we again 
insisted very strongly on our right to pay for what we 
required. We carried the point ; for a sudden thought 
seemed to strike the mehmandar, which induced him to 
withdraw his opposition, saying, ‘‘ After all, the law 
for the English is, that they may do what they like.” 
We observed, with surprise, that the villagers expressed 
no satisfaction when informed that we intended to pay 
for what they supplied ; but we had afterwards cause 
to believe that our conductor obliged them to deposit 
in his privy-purse the money they received in payment 
from our party. 

Circumstances such as these we have detailed ex- 
hibit, perhaps more forcibly than the history of de- 
populated cities, the miseries which invariably connect 
themselv& with the minutest actions of a despotic 
covernment. Because it is the will of a person wm 
authority that attention should be paid to travellers 
(a Just and wise thing in itself), the sanctities of private 
life are vielated, and the unhappy people are made to 
feel that nothing which they possess is thelr own, 
Europe, during the feudal ages, was not much better 
off. Even the most civilized people have had a long 
and arduous struggle to cast off the hereditary bondage 


his was, pexhaps, the | in which they lived, 


96 
SONGS OF THE SEASONS. 


I. Tue Sprine Sona. 


Winter, Winter, is hurrying away ;— 

There’s a leaf ou the brier and a bird on the tree ; 
And the butterfly flits in the noon-tide ray, 

And the furze hath spread its flowers for the bee: 
The lark ventures up in the pearly sky, 

The almond-bloom shews its faint blush to the sun, 
A wandering swallow here dares to fly,— 

The jolly young Spring his kingdom hath won. 

Winter, Winter, is hurrying away. 


Winter, Winter, will still remain ;— 
There’s a frost on the grass and a blight on the flower ; ; 
And the beetle is locked in the earth again, , 
And the sheep gather close in the morning | shower : 
The thrush is silent that sang before, 
The violet shrinks to her leafy nest, 
The mountain runnels in torrents a 
The pale Spring hides 11 old Winter’s breast. 
Winter, Winter, will still remain. 


4 


Winter, Winter, is over and gone ;— 
There’s a dew on the hly, a scent in the rose, . 
And the moth is out in the sunny morn, | 
And the May-fly dies in the dayhght’s close : 
The stock-dove is buildmg in many a bower, : 
The trees and the insects breathe again,— 
There’s a charm in the day and a joy in the hour,— 
The steadfast Spring hath fixed his reign. 
Winter, Winter, is over and gone. Cai 


t 


TRANSMISSION OF NEW SPAPERS — POST. 


{From a Correspondent 1 


Wiru reference to the recent Number of the ‘ Penny Maga- 
zine,’ containing.a ‘ History of the Rise and Progress of the 
Post Office, it may not be uninteresting, ata period when the 
circulation of newspapers through that establishment has 
reached tosuchan unpr ecedented « extent, to give some account 
of the origin of it; so far as itis known, and to trace the pro- 
gressive facilities which hay e been afforded. During the Pro- 
tectorate} a‘memorial was presented ‘from certain officers * of 
the post. office, praying for the'protection of a privilege, which 
had always been enjoyed by them,‘of forwarding newspapers 
by the ‘post, which proves that the circulation of newspapers 
was on a systematic footing prior to the year 1650.: In the 
year 1763 an Act was passed permitting newspapers to be 
sent and received free by members of both Houses of Par- 
liament, provided they “ were signed on the ‘outside by the 
hand of any member,” or“ dir ected to any member at any 
place whereof: he shoitld ‘have given notice in writing to the 
Postmaster General.” This Act also recognized the ‘ancient 
right of franking newspapers by-officers of. the post office, 

and certain clerks of-the secretaries of,state. In. the years 
1768 and 1793; Acts were passed authorizing compensations 
to the clerks of the secretaries of state for the loss sustained 
by them “in consequence of the methods in which news- 
papers” were then “ dispersed uito’ the country,” and the 
sending and receiving of*newspapers by members of parlia- 
ment was: limited. to the period of the sitting of parlia- 
ment, and. forty. days before and after the session. At the 
commencement of the ‘present century, the regulation re- 
quiring members of parliament to give notice of the place to 
which newspapers might be addressed to them fell into dis- 
use, and if a member's name only appeared upon the cover, 

they were sent free to all parts of the United Kingdom. — 
The free transmission of newspapers by the post was thus 
virtually thrown open to the public, and the origin of the 
establishments of agents amongst printers, booksellers, &e. 

for the supply of newspapers by post, may be dated from 
this period. In the year 1825 a law was passed rendering 
the use of a member's name unnecessary, and thus the trai 
mission of newspapers by post became entirely open to the 
public, upon the condition that they “ shall be sent without 


covers, or im covers open at the sides, and shall not contain: 
also * that there’ 


any other paper or thing whatsoever ;” 
shall be no writing other than the superscr iption upon such 
printed paper, or upon the cover thereof ;”’ and 1n the event 
of these restrictions not being duly observed, the whole of 
such packet is “ to be charged with treble the duty of post- 
age.” It appears that in the year 1782, there were 3,070,000 
newspapers sent through the post oflice; in 1796, 8,600,000 ; 

in (831, 12,200,000 ; and in the last year, 11,600,000. The 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 8, 1834. 


average number of newspapers sent from London daily may 
be about 40,000, and instances have occurred, at periods of 
unusual interest, of above 100,000 newspapers being sent 


by the post from the metropolis in one day. 


Capability greater than Performance.— Men are often 
capable of greater things than they perform. They are 
sent into the world with bills of credit, and seldom draw to 
their full extent.—Horace Walpole. 


Richard Cromwell.—The second protector, it is- well 
known, was produced as a witness at the age of near ninety, 
in Westminster Hall, in a civil suit. It is said that the 
counsel of the oppose party reviled the good cld man with 
his father’s crimes, but was reproved by the judge, who 


| order ed a chair to be brought for the venerable ancient ; and 
that Queen Anne, to her honour, commended the judge for his 


conduct. From Westminster- Keri Richard had the curiosity 


‘to: go into the House’ of Lords ; and,’ standing at the bar, 


and.it: being-buzzed that so singular a personage was there, 


-Lord Bathurst, then one of the. twelve new-created peers, 


went to the. bar and conversed with Mr. Cromwell. Hap- 
pening to ask how long it was since Mr. Cromwell had been 
in that house,—“ Never, my lord,”’ answered Richard, “ since 
I sat in ‘that chair; pointing to’ the throne.—Horace 
Walpole. 


The Imagination—The faculty of imagination is the 
creat spring of human activity, and the principal source of 
human improvement. As it delights in presenting to the 
mind. scenes and characters more perfect than those which 
we are acquainted-with, it prevents us from ever being com- 
pletely satisfied with our present condition, or with our past 
attainments ; and engages us continually in,the pursuit of 
some untried enjoyment, or of some ideal excellence. Hence 
the ardour of the selfish to better their fortunes, and to add 
to their personal accomplishments ; and hence the zeal of 
the patriot and the philosopher to advance the virtue and 
the happiness of the human race. Destroy this faculty, and 
the’ condition of man will become as ‘stationary as that of 
the brutes. — eg Stewart. - ~~? 


! 7 i® t 








Slate. - seepétiiliont have been’ made to ascertain the ap- 
plicability of slate to other uses than the covering of houses, 
‘The :result has been the “discovery that, as a- inaterial for 
paving the floors of warehouses, cellars, wash-houses, barns, 
&c.; where’ great strength and durability are required, it is 
far,superior to any ote. known material, . In the extensive 
warehouses of the London Docks it has been .used ‘on a 
large scale.’ The stones forming several of the old floors, 
having become broken and decayed, have been replaced 
with slate two inches thick; and one wooden floor, which 
must otherwise have been relaid, has been cased ih ‘slate 
one inch thick; and the whole have been found ‘to answer 
very completely. The trucks used in removing the heaviest 
weights are worked with fewer hands. The slabs being 
sawn, and cemented closely together as they are laid down, 
unite so perfectly, that the molasses, oul, tur pentine, or other 
commodity which is spilt upon | the foe A is all saved; and, 
as slate is non-absorbent, it 1s so easily cleaned, ‘and dries 
so soon, that a floor upon which sugar in a moist condition 


has been placed may be made ready for the reception of the 


most delicate goods in a few hours. Waggons or carts, 


containing four or five tons of goods, pass over truck-ways 


of two- inch slate without making the slightest impression. 
In no one instance has it been found that a‘ floor made of 
sawn slate has given way ; in point of durability, therefore 
it may be considered superior to every other commodity 
applied to such uses. The consequeuces of this discovery 
have been that full employment is found in the quarries 
which produce the best descriptions of slates, and that 
additional employment has been given to the British 
shipping engaged in the coasting trade.—lvrom a Corre- 
spondent. 





*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 


Printed by Wit11Am Ciowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZI 





OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





125.1] 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[Marcu 15, 1834. 


THE TAMARIND. 


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[ Tamarind-Tree—Tamarindus Indica. ]_ 


Tue Tamarind-tree is a native both of the East Indies 
and of tropical America, and probably also of Arabia 
and some parts of Africa. It was very early introduced 
into this country; for Gerarde, whose ‘ Herbal’ was 
published in 1633, makes mention of it as growing 
here. It does not often flower in England, though it 
has done so in the Royal Gardens at Kew: it 1s, how- 
ever, 2 common ornament of our hot-houses. Where 
it is a native, it erows to be a large tree, and affords 
excellent timber—heavy, firm, hard, and durable. The 
stem is large, covered with brown bark, and divides 
into many branches. The leaves are not unlike those of 
the mountain ash, only they are of a brighter green, 
and the leaflets are closer to the mid-rib: the leaflets 


are sinall, but the number jn a leaf (sixteen or eighteen 
Vos, Alt. 


pairs in a leaf, with an odd one at the extremity) gives 
the tree a very light and elegant appearance. The 
flowers come out from the sides of the branches in 
loose bunches, and are followed by the pods, of which 
there are, generally, about five or six in a bunch. The 
pods of the West India tamarinds are, on an average, 
about three inches long, and contain about three seeds ° 
those from the East are about double the size. 

The pulp, in which the seeds of the tamarind are 
inclosed, contains more acid than any other vegetable 
substance, in a natural state, with which we are ac- 
quainted ; and, therefore, it is used both for sharpening 
food and drink, and for medicinal purposes. Niebuhr 
says, “ The tamarind is equally useful and agreeable. 


It has a pulp of a vinous taste, of which a? 


BS 


refreshing liquor is prepared; iis shade shelters houses 
from the torrid heat of the sun; and its fine figure 
oveatly adorns~ithe-scenery of the country.” Its re- 
freshing properties have given it a place in our poetry: 
‘¢ The damsel from the tamaruid-tree, 

Had pluck’d its acid fruit, 

And steep’d it in the water long: 

And whose drank of the cooling draught 

He would not wish for wine *.” 

Mandelslo, an old traveller, says, that as soon as the 
sun is set, the leaves of the tamarind close up the fruit 
to preserve it from the dew, and open as soon as that 
luminary appears again :-— 

*€?Tis the cool evening hour: 
The tamarind from the dew 
Sheathes its young fruit, yet green .” 

The East India tamarinds are preserved without 
sugar, and, therefore, they are the best for medicinal 
use. About forty tons of tamarinds are annually im- 
ported into Great Britain. (From ‘ Vegetable Sub- 
stances: Eruits.’) 





bs 


MUSIC FOR THE MANY.—No. I. 
We have already said that Shakspeare wrote words 


for the music of Thomas Weelkes. ‘“‘ This admirable 
writer,” says Ritson, ‘ composed the most beautiful 
and excellent songs, which no one (so far as we know) 
can be said to have done before him{; nor has any one 
excelled him since. * * In the plays of this fa- 
vourite of the muses, we find a number of fragments of 
old songs and ballads, which will afford us infinite 
amusement.” 

Every reader of Shakspeare must remember how 
numerous are these fragments and snatches of song, and 
on how many occasions he shews his love for the popular 
ballads, and the simple, touching music (which was al- 
ready old in his time) of his native land. He has, 
however, never expressed this feeling more exquisitely 
than in these lines :-— 

“« Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song, 
That o!d and antique song, we had last mht. 


e fy 1 ‘ 
Methought it did reltteve my passion inuch, 
More than heht airs and recollected terms 


Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times. 
3 a * od *k ste 


O fellow, come! the song we had last night :— 

Mark it, Cesario ; it is old and plain: 

ihe spinsters and the knitters in the sun, 

And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, 
Yo use to chant it; it is silly sooth, 

And dathes with the innocence of love, 

Lake the old aye §.” 

One of Shakspeare’s especial favourites was John 
Dowland, who was a charming composer, as_ his 
madrigal, ‘ Awake, sweet Love,’ evinces; and also a 
ereat performer on the lute, and who may often have 

* Thalaba. 7 fprd, 

t The critic properly excepts ‘The Passionate Shepherd to his 
Love,’ hy Marlow, who wrote before Shakspeare. Of this admirable 


song, which begins ‘ Come live with me, and be my love,’ we shall 
speak hereafter. § ‘ Twelfth Night.’ 


@ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


| 


es 


[Marcu 15, 


regaled the poet with the strains he loved. ‘The dra- 
matist thus addresses him on one occasion— 
“If Music and sweet Poetry agree, ~~ 
As they must needs, the sister and the brother, 


Then must the love be great ’twixt thee and me, 
Because thou lov’st the one, and I the other *.” | 


Besides Shakspeare, two other of our old poets speak 
of the prevalence of music among the people of their 
times. ‘The accomplished Lord Surrey says in one of 
his poems— 

“ My mother’s maids, when they do sit and spin, 
They sing a song ;” | 
and Bishop Hall, who was angry at the number of 
ballads and madrigals published, says that they were 


«“ Sung to the wheel, and sung unto the pail + ;” 


that is, sung by maids spinning and milking or fetch- 
ing water. Another satirical poet would lead us to 
believe that in his day the practice of serenading with 
harps and lutes and ‘* songs of melody” was quite com- 
mon in the streets of Loudon §. 

Popular music, which improved and extended itself 


in England during the reigns of Elizabeth and James 








I., was, in common with the rest ef the fine arts, much 
encouraged during the tranquil part of the reign of 
Charles I. Before the commencement of the fearful 
struggles between Charles and the Commons, cou- 
siderable numbers were added to the lists both of sone’. 
writers and composers; and the love of music was 
widely spread among: the people, who kept alive the 
melodies and songs of the preceding reigns. Not to 
refer to other records of the times, we have sufficient 
proof that this was the fact in that delightfui old book, 
‘The Complete Angler; or, the Contemplative Man’s 
Recreation,’ the author ef which (Isaae Walton) was 
an accurate observer of Ahe manners and customs of the 
day. His pictures, or descriptions, indeed, have that 
convincing charm which can scarcely exist apart frem 
truth and fidelity of representation. In his time, then, 
honest Isaac, bent on his favourite pastime of angling, 
took to the green fields on the banks of the river Lee, 
in the neighbourhood of London, which fields and 
which river are as bright and pleasant as ever, and 
much frequented, on summer holidays, by the in- 
dustrious inhabitants of the east and north-east parts 
of our immensely-grown metropolis. In these fields, 
Isaac mentions, as a common occurrence, that he was 
wout to meet a handsome milkmaid, who had east 
away all care and sang like a nightingale, her voice 
being good and the ditties fitted for it. And what was 
the nature of the songs sung by this lovely damsel ? 
In the quaint words of Isaac Walton, “ She sang the 
smooth song which was made by Kit Marlow, now at 
least fifty years ago; and the milkmaid’s mother sang 
the answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter Raleieh 
in his younger days.” Now these two sones, of which 
our old author gives the words as having been sung to 
him and a brother fisherman by the pocr women, were 
written in the time of Queen Elizabeth, and were those 
exquisite lyrics, ‘ Come live with me and be my love,’ 
and ‘If all the world and love were young’ two 
poetical compositions which have never been surpassed 
to our times, and of which Isaac says in his, “ the 

were old-fashioned poetry, but choicely good ; I think, 
much better than that now in fashion in this critical 
age.” 

In another part of these dialogues, in which he 
describes his habitual holiday life, when he asks the 
milkmaid to sing she says, What shall it be ?—‘ Come, 
Shepherds, deck your heads, ‘As at noon Dulcina 
rested,’ or ‘ Phillida flouts me,’ which are three othcr 
songs of an elegance considered much above what is 


* ¢ Passionate_Pilgrim.’ 


+ The poem containing this line was published in 1597, 
t Barclay’s ‘Ship of Fools. ~ 


1834.] 


now termed the taste of the vulear. At the end of a 
day’s sport, Isaac says to his comrade, who is a novice 
in the life of an angler,—‘ TH now lead you to an 
honest ale-house, where we shall find a cleanly room, 
with lavender in the windows, and twenty ballads stuck 
about the walls.” In this ‘“‘ cleanly room” the fisher- 
men wile away the evening by singing songs and duets, 
In fact, music and ballads, and snatches of old poetry, 
seem scarcely ever out of the heads of these honest 
anglers. ‘The pleasant look of the meadows, and the 
sweet smell of the earth, invariably call forth a song, or 
a quotation of poetry; every night, when their frugal 
supper is discussed, they singe solos or duets, and a 
casual dropper-in at the “ honest ale-house ” is expected, 
as a matter of course, to be able to take a part,—to 
sing the treble or the bass. Isaac Walton also talks of 
catches, or, as he calls them, ‘‘ ketches.” At the end 
of his book (in the old editions) he gives the words and 
music of one of his favourite duets, which relates to the 
pleasures of an ane@ler’s pursuits, and begins, * Man’s 
life is but vain, for ’tis subject to pain.’ The music, 
by Mr. H. Lawes, is simple and pretty, agreeably 
blending two voices. 

All the songs and the poetry quoted in the ‘ Complete 
Angler,’ and mentioned as being then as familiar as 
household words, are characterized by good taste and 
purity of thought. Among the many beautiful things 
Jsaac Walton introduces, are, that touching elegy, ‘Sweet 
day so cool, so calm, so bright*, by the Rev. Mr. Her- 
bert, some verses by Dr. Donne, and the virtuous and 
accomplished Sir Henry Wotton’s song for the poor 
countryman, beginning,— 

« Vly from onr country pastimes, fly, 
~ Sad troops of human misery ! 
Come, serene looks, , 
Clear as the crystal brooks, 
Or the pure azured heaven that smiles to see 
The rich attendance on our poverty ¢!” 
Now, [Isaac Walton figures himself as one of the 
people, and only describes the pastimes of homely men 
like himself. Weis not a man of courts and drawing- 
rooms and fashionable assemblies ; he rolls along in no 
luxurious equipages ; he has no expensive amusements ; 
he is one “‘ who, long in populous city pent,’ betakes 
himself to the roads and the fields, and the river’s bank, 
and to the pure open air of heaven. Unattended and 
on foot, he leaves the town behind him, on some fine 
holiday, and walks over the hills to Tottenham, and 
thence to the pleasant Lee, with his fishing-rod in his 
hand, his basket on his shoulder, and, mayhap, a book 
of “smooth songs,” or other poetry, in his pocket. He 
angles as long as it is opportune or pleasant so to do: 
and, as a rational and soothing amusement for the rest 
of his holiday, he indulges in music and sone. 

The earliest edition we have seen of Isaac Walton’s 
book was printed in 1653, during the Commonwealth, 
and three years after the execution of Charles I. It is 
probable it refers to earlier and more cheerful times ; 
but it is also probable that humble, happy, philosophic, 
and, we may add, truly pious individuals like himself, 
might have found the means of indulging in their in- 
nocent pleasures even during the horrors of the civil 
war and the intolerance of puritanism. Certain it is, 
however, that, at this time, popular music received a 
blow in England. In the eyes of the over-strict Puri- 
tans, every amusement was a profanation and an im- 
morality ; and singing of songs and dancing were held 
to be among the worst of these. In one of Cromwell’s 
ordinances, dated 1656, it is enacted that, “ if any of 
the persons commonly called fiddlers or minstrels shall 
at any time be taken playing, fiddling, and making 

* This song has been given in No. 24, vol. i, of the § Penny 
Magazine, 

+ Sir Meury Wotton and Dr. Donne wrote in the time of 
James I, : : 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. 99 
music in any inn, alehouse, or tavern, or shall be taken 
profferinge themselves, or desiring or entreating any to 
hear them play or make music in any of the places 
aforesaid,” they are to be “ adjudged, and declared to 
be rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars.” 

Allowing full force to the mistaken religious zeal of 
the period, we must, however, mention, that there were 
other motives for this persecution which were likely to 
have quite as much influence in the minds of Cromwell 
and his party. The gay wits and the song writers of 
the day were all Royalists, and were continually at- 
tacking the gloomy Roundheads, and making efforts to 
circulate their satirical pieces through the netion. 
Then, as has happened since in different countries of 
Europe, certain tunes, even without any words, were 
considered as being identified with political principle 
or party, and as likely to keep alive, and even lead to 
dangerous ebullitions, the prejudices or feelings of those 
to whom they were addressed. Again, as excess on 
one side provokes excess on the other, the Royalists 
ran as much beyond the circle of proper conviviality as 
the Puritans kept within it, and thus gave the latter a 
plausible motive for suppressing even the most rational 
and innocent amusements. 


(To be concluded in our next., 





THE PHYSICAL POWERS OF SAVAGES. 


Tneru has seldom probably been.a period in which 
persons have not been found, who, from what they saw 
on a cursory view, were inclined to consider the savage 
state of man in many respects preferable to the civi- 
lized. But there never was a period in which this 
opinion found advocates so many, so zealous, and sv 
able, as about the middle of the last-century: It is not 
our intention to enter into the question. This is not 
necessary now, when the opinion is only met with 
occasionally, in some book of fiction; and is at present 
only regarded as one of the infatuations to which the 
human mind seems almost periodically subject. It may, 
nevertheless, not be uninteresting to state some of the 
impressions on which this opinion was founded, aud 
some of the facts which resulted from the agitation of 
the question. 

The advocates for the savage life relied much on the 
greater acuteness of physical sense, the greater specd, 
the greater strength, in the savage than in the civilized 
man; and they considered their argument established 
by the inference that civilization tended to neutralize 
his natural powers. It is this part of the argument, as 
the most practical, to which we shall limit our atten- 
tion. 

Some of the advocates of civilization endeavoured, 
we think very unnecessarily, to dispute the alleged facts. 
But it is, for instance, certain that Kalmucs, Arabs, and 
other inhabitants of deserts or open plains, can perceive 
very minute objects at a distance perfectly astonishing 
to an European. The same people, by laying them- 
selves on the ground and applying the ear close to the 
soul, can distinguish the very remote trampling of horses, 
the noise of an enemy, of a flock of sheep, or even of 
strayed cattle. ‘The sense of smelling is of correspond- 
ing acuteness. ‘There are few Kalmucs, and other bar- 
barous or savage people, who cannot tell, by applying 
the nose to the hole of a fox or other quadruped, whe- 
ther the animal is within or not: and on their military 
expeditions they can detect the smell of a camp or of a 
fire long before any of his senses would convey such 
information to an European. It is also affirmed, that 
savages have much stronger powers of mastication than 
Europeans; and that their memories are far more 
retentive. The superior strength of the uncivilized man 
seems to have been less disputed than the preceding 
facts. It is, however, singular that this point, which 

2 


100 


was considered the least controvertible, is the only one 
which the observations of travellers and physiologists 

have not tended to establish. ‘The experiments of M. 
’ Peron on savages of different nations, with the dynamo- 
metcr, though they cannot be considered as affording 
inaterials for a certain and general conclusion, are suffi- 
ciently curious and interesting to have their results 
briefly stated. 

The dynamometer is an instrument designed for the 
purpose of measuring the quantity of force exerted by 
nen or animals. The one employed by M. Peron (that 
of - Reenier) consisted’ of an elliptical spring one foot 
long < and rather narrow.- It was covered with leather 
that it might not injure, the hand that compressed it. 
The strength of the spring was suchas to exceed that 
of any ‘animal to which it might be applied; and it 
contained a mechanism with an index which indicated 
the quantity of the power by which the spring was 
compressed. M. Peron was the first to whom the idea 
occurred of employing this instrument for the purpose 
of comparing the strength of the savage with that of 
the civilized, man; and in the voyage to the southern 
hemisphere, undertaken by the order of Buonaparte, 
the fullowing results were obtained. ‘The manual 
power, expressed in French kilogrammes, was— 


Van Diemen’s Land . q ~50°6 
New [folland . ‘ A 51°8 
Timor “=. ‘ ; ; 58°7 
“French =. : . ° 69:2 
English =a : e ‘ 7) 44 


M. Peron could ‘never induce the natives of Van Die- 
men’s Land to try the strength of their loins; but the 
result, in respect to the others, 2s sa in French 
myriogrammes, was— = 
New Holland . ™® ° 14°8 
Timor . ° . ru 46°2 
French 2. . , : ak 
English ° ‘ ies 3 
As these experiments, so far as they went, showed the 
most savage people to be the weakest, M. Peron was 
certainly entitled to his conclusion, ‘‘ that the develop- 
ment of physical strength is not always in a direct ratio 
to the want of civilization, nor a necessary consequence 
of the savage state.” 

In dealing with the general question, however, it is 
not necessary «to have any evidence of the - inferior 
strength of savage tribes to come to a second conclusion 
upon the advantages of the two states of civilization 
and ; uncivilization. Allowing to the savage all. the 
perfections ‘claimed for him in other physical qualities, 
he is excelled in acuteness of. vision by the eagle and 
hawk; in the power of hearing, by hares, horses, asses, 
and ‘other animals having large ears which they can 
erect ; in smelling, by-dogs and many other animals ; 
in memory, by dogs and horses; in mastication, by 
most animals; and in swiftness how inany quadrupeds 
excel him—how many in strength! In admitting the 
superiority of the savage in merely physical powers 
over the civilized man, it is unnecessary also to account 
for it by peculiarities i in the conformation of his organs. 
Some writers maintain that the olfactory and optic 
nerves are uncommonly. large in the African; and that 
the Kalmucs have very large ears, which stand out consi- 
derably from the head. We think it, however, quite 
unnecessary to endeavour thus to account for any supe- 
rior. Vivacity or power which may be found to exist in 
the organs of sense. Exercise alone seems to us quite 
suffirient to account for the difference, and we consider 
that the physical faculties both of the civilized and 
uncivilized man have just that degree of power, not 
less or more, which their respective circumstances liave 
called forth. The circumstances of the savage are such 
as to require the utmost exertion of the organs of sense 
—hence his animal superiority. The circumstances of 
the civilized man are such as t9 demand the greater 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 15, 


exercise of the mental powers; and hence his supe- 
riority in all that essentially distineuishes the human 
from the brutal nature. In the case of hearing,’ for 
instance, few sounds ever break the silence of the vast 
solitudes which savages usually frequent; and they, 
therefore, have been more in the habit of attending to 
low and distant sounds, than one whose organs have 
been developed amidst the din of cities, and to whom 
such exquisite sensibility would, in his ordinary circum- 
stances, be an absolute nuisance. In the same manner, 
if we consider M. Peron to have proved the savage to 
be inferior in bodily strength to the civilized man, it 
may be attributed to the want of that exercise by which 
their other, physical powers are perfected. It would 
have been desirable that we should have been infonned 
whether the Europeans, with whom he compares them, 
were gentlemen, sailors, - artisans, or convicts, between 
whom he would probably have found a difference of 
averegate strength, or in the mode | of its exhibition, 
equal to.the extremes in his tables. ' We fear, although 
it may be easy to find the difference of power’ between 
one man and another in some particular deyelopments 
of strength, it must be extremely difficult to form a true 
estimate of the agoregate differénce. One man is 
stronger than another in the legs, another in thé arms; 
one man can drag a great weight after him, another 
can haul a rope with force, and another can ‘carry a 
heavy load upon his head or back. Some), again, who 
have not been much accustomed to Lalita are capable 
of immense exertion for a short period ; but are quite 
unequal to the moderate but continuous ‘exertion in 
which others find no difficulty.- And’so, generally, it 
is less perhaps in aggregates of power that men excel 
one another, than in some particular developments. 
For instance, the Arabs of the desert, of whose powers of 
vision such wonderful things are related, do not at all 
equal Europeans in the perception of near objects. 

Separately from any such idle controversies as that to 
which we have alluded, it is interestine to study the very 
remarkable law of adaptation on which that most uni- 
versal of beings—man—is formed, both in his external 
and ‘aternal “organization ; and through which he is 
enabled to inhabit all climates, to subsist. on all aliments, 
aud to bear all modes of life. It is an employment no 
less profitable than interesting to contemplate the same 
beingin one part of the world approximating in facul- 
ties and habits to the beasts of his native forest or wil- 
derness ; and, in another, forming a part in a ereat and 
complicated system, in which innumerable agencies are 
employed to minister to the wants and comforts of each 
day; and in which it becomes more or less incumbent 
on cvery man to employ his powers for the general 
welfare, 





HALIFAX, 


aie parish of the same name in which Halifax is 
situated is of greater extent than the whole county of 
Rutland, being 17 miles in length and averaging 11 
miles in breadth, comprising an area of 124 square 
miles, or 79,200 acres. The soil is naturally sterile and 
unproductive ; and when Camden travelled in York- 
shire in 1579, the population of the whole parish did 
not exceed 12, 000, It now amounts to 92,850; and a 
soil has been, as it were, created in the sterile wilder- 
ness, which now presents a fruitful district and a po- 
pulous race. ‘The cause of this improvement must be 
sought in the local circumstances which afforded im- 
portant facilities for the erection of mills and factories 
on the establishment of the woollen manufactures in 
this country, with the increase of which Halifax has 
fone on increasing’. 

The sineularity of the name of this place renders it 
worth while to state its origin, aS ~iven by Whittaker 


| In the: deep valley, then embosomed in’ the woods, 


1534.] 


where the parish church of Halifax now stands, there 
stood anciently a hermitage dedicated to St. J ohn the 
Baptist, the reputed sanctity of which attracted a great 
number of pilgrims from all quarters. Four ways, by 
which the modern town of Halifax is entered, still dis- 
tinctly point to the church as their comimon centre ; 
these were the roads by which the pilgrims approached 
the place of devotion, and hence the name of Halifax, 
or Holy Ways, fax being, in Norman-Freneh, an old 
plural noun denoting ‘ highways.” 


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THE PENNY 


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MAGAZINE: 101 

The town of Halifax is situated on the south-eastern 
declivity of a gently-rising eminence; but being 
inclosed by a chain of hills which stretch from east to 
south, it seems, on approaching in that direction, to 
stand in a deep valley. Being in the midst of numerous 
waters, particularly adapted for mills and machinery 3; 
near the common source of the rivers which, diverging 
from this point, flow towards the eastern and western 
seas; being also in the vicinity of the great wool dis- 
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W aR Mabe , 


102 


supply of coals, it presented advantages for a seat of 
the woollen manufacture too obvious to escape notice. 
It has consequently become one of the principal seats 
of the cloth manufacture in the kingdom, and has also 
obtained a share in the manufacture of cotton. ‘There 
seem to have been established some manufactures at 
Halifax so early as 1414; but they must have been 
very inconsiderable, as the site was only occupied by a 
village of thirteen houses in 1443. But the woollen 
manufacture g¢radually became considerable; and, 11 
the reign of Henry VII., many Flemish manufacturers 
settled in this country, to which they were the more 
easily persuaded to resort by the distress they suffered 
in their own. ‘Fhe influence which this improvement 
had on the prosperity of Halifax is indicated by the 
fact that, in 1540, the number of houses had increased 
to 520. Many of the Flemings are conjectured to have 
settled at Halifix ; and this supposition is strengthened 
by the similarity which exists in the dialect of the 
labouring classes there and in the Low Countries, par- 
ticularly in Friesland, and hence the following distich: 


 Gooid brade, botter, aud sheese, 
Is gooid Halifax, and gooid Pniese.”’ 


The extent and value of the woollen manufactures of 
Walifax, in the early periods of its history, may be 
estimated from a peculiar local law designed to afiord 
protection to the clothiers from the depredations to 
which their goods were exposed during the progress of 
the manufacture. It was customary, as it still 1s, to 
stretch the cloth on racks, or wooden frames, to dry, as 
shown in our wood-cut. And being thus left all night, 
and ‘liable to be stolen, the magistrates were invested 
with a jurisdiction to try and inflict capital punishment, 
in a summary manner, on all persons who stole pro- 
perly valued at more than thirteen-pence-halfpenny, 
within the liberties or precincts of the forest of Hard- 
wick. Those charged with this offence were taken 
before the bailiff of Halifax, who forthwith summoned, 
as his assessors, the frith-bur@hers of the several towns 
within the forest, who instantly proceeded to the trial. 
They could convict the prisoner on three grounds only: 
if he were seized in the act of thieving; or with the 
stolen goods upon him; or, lastly, on his own con- 
fession. If the day on which the culprit was con- 
victed happened to be the principal market-day, he was 
taken immediately, or, if not, on the first following 
market-day, to the scaffold in the market-place of 
Halifax, and there beheaded by means of a machine 
resembling the guillotine used in France during: the 
Revolution. ‘This was called “Gibbet Law,” under 
which it 1s ascertained that, on an average, one execu- 
tion took place every two years in the century preceding 
1650; but .on that year, the bailiff of Halifax being 
threatened with a prosecution, relinquished the custom, 
and the scaffold was taken down. ‘The jurors, under 
this law, were not sworn; and Bishop Hall, in his 
‘ Satires,’ insinuates that they were not impartial :— 


‘ Or some more strait-laced juror of the rest 
Impannelled on an Halifax inquest.” 


We may, in this place, mention that the Earl of 
Morton, #iterwards Regent of Scotland, while in Eng- 
land,in 1566, directed a inodel of it to be taken, and, on 
his arrival in Seotland, had one of similar construction 
made from it. The instrument was so long unused as 
to obtain the uaine of the “* Maiden;” but, in 1581, 
the Ear: himself was brouglit to the block, and suffered 
by the machine he had caused to be erected. 

Placed by its situation out of the ordinary range of 
hostile armies, Halifax does not appear to have suffered 
niuch from the calamities of war. During the civil 
contests in the reign of Charles 1., the town was garri- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


| Ouram and Ovenden, affords a population of 34,437, 


[March 15, 


soned by the Parhamentarians; and at that period a 
smart action took place at a spot in the neighbourhood, 
which retains the name of “ Blood Field” to this 
day. ‘The fidelity of Halifax to the Parliamentary 
cause was rewarded by the privilege of sending mem- 
bers to the House of Commons, both under the. 
Parliament and the Protectorate. This privileze was. 
withdrawn on the Restoration; and the town remained 
unrepresented until the provisions of the Reform Bull 
entitled it to send two members to the Legislature. 

The present town of Halifax contains many hand- 
some buildings,—principally stone  structures,—but 
there are several of brick; and a few ancient edifices 
may still be perceived, the architecture of which con- 
sists of a frame-work of wood, the intervals being 
filled up with plaster or clay. IJ*rom the mixture of 
stone aud brick, and from the numerous small enclo- 
sures around the houses, the town presents, from a dis- 
tance, a singularly varied and interesting appear- 
ance, 

The church, dedicated to St. John the Baptist, is a 
spacious and handsome Gothic edifice, erected at diffe- 
rent periods, the tower and steeple having been com- 
pleted in 1470. ‘Phe accommodation it afforded having, 
however, becoine insufficient for the increased popula- 
tion, a large and elegant new church, in the Grecian 
style of architecture, was erected in 1798, by. the late. 
vicar, Dr. Coulthurst. There are besides seven chapels: 
for dissenters of different denominations ; also a free 
school founded by Queen Elizabeth, a blue-coat hospital, 
and a theatre. ‘Che manufactures are carried on in the 
town and neighbourhood, and the beneficial effects of 
trade and industry are nowhere more strikingly ex- 
hibited, A continued range of thriving villages and 
coultry-seats extends over the whole of the immense 
parish, which now comprehends twenty-six townships, 
furnished with thirteen episcopal churches or chapels 
of ease, 

The chief articles of manufacture are shalloons, 
taminets, moreens, shag's, serges, baizes, coatings, and 
carpets 5 with narrow and broad cloths and kerseymieres, 
both for domestic use and for the army. It was some 
years ago computed that 10,000 pieces of shalloon alone 
were manufactured in this parish, considerable quan- 
tities of which were exported to Turkey and the Levant. 
Several cotton manufactories have been erected, and 
this branch of manufacture is on the increase. E:xcel- 
lent wool-cards are also made in Halifax. In the 
neighbourhood large quantities of freestone have been 
due, and sent to the metropolis for sale; slate of a 
superior quality is also found; and fuel for domestic 
purposes, and for the consumption of the varioas facto- 
ries, is supplied from coal-mines at a short distance. 
It is to the abundant supply of this important article, 
which, in the use of the steam-engine, affords the same 
advantages as the numerous rapid brooks formerly fur- 
nished for mills, that the continued prosperity of Hali- 
fax must be mainly attributed. A weekly market is 
held on Saturdays, chiefly for the sale of woollen cloth. 
For the accommodation of the traders in this article, 
there is a large freestone edifice, called the Cloth Hall, 
occupying an area of 10,000 square yards, and divided 
into 315 apartments for the reception of goods, the 
quantity of which, exposed for sale at.one time, geuc- 
rally amounts in value to 50,000/. Commercial iuter- 


course between Halifax and Hull, as well as tlie eastern 


parts of England generally, is carried ou by means 
of the Aire and Calder navigation; and with Man- 
chester, Liverpool, Lancaster, and the west, a com- 
munication is furnished by the Rochdale canal. Hali- 
fax is 197 miles trom London, and 42 from York. 
According to the returns of the last census, the newly- 
created borough, which includes the townships of North 


1834.]. 


NORWICH CASTLE. 


THe Castle of Norwich stands near the heart of the 
city, and at some distance west from the cathedral. It 
occupies the termination of a lone acclivity which enters 
the city from the south-east. ‘The site of the castle is 
both the centre and the most clevated spot of the city ; 
and, placed on that commanding eminence, the old 
fortress is seen from a great distance raising 1ts massive 
front far above all the surrounding buildings. It stands 
nearly, but not quite, with its walls facing the cardinal 
points, the east and west ends being only a very little 
inclined towards the south and north respectively. 

What is now, and has for many ages been, called the 
Castle, however, is merely the keep, or main tower of 
the entire structure. In its original state,-the fortress 
no doubt consisted of several courts, all surrounded with 
buildings. The space over which it once extended can 
still be nearly ascertained, and appears to have been 
about twenty-three acres. ‘Phere were three circular 
fortifications, each consisting of a wall with a deep fosse 
or ditch at fts base. ‘The spaces thus inclosed formed 
an outer, a middle, and an‘inner court, or ballium, as 
such divisions were properly called when of this pe- 
culiar form. Near the centre of the inner ballium, 
which occupied the summit of the hill, was placed the 
keep, as the principal part of the stronghold, and the 
refuge of its occupants, should they be driven from 
every other post. 

A great part of the spaee which was once included 
within the castle is now covered with streets and lanes, 
and seems to belong to the town. It is said, however, 
that even the line of the outer ditch may still be 
partially traced by a close examination of the eround ; 
or at least it night have been so not many years ago, 
The only entrance into the castle was by a bridee thrown 
over this ditch, at the north end of what is now called 
Golden-ball Lane, that is, at the south-east point of the 
circle. ‘Phere was also a bridge over the second ditch, 
opposite to that over the first; but this, too, has been 
completely swept away. Tliat over the last of the 
three ditches, however, still remains, and is unquestion- 
ably one of the most ancient structures of this descrip- 
tion in the kingdom. It consists of the half of a circle 
of the diameter of forty-three feet three inches, and is 
partly built of bricks, a circumstance which has induced 
some antiquaries to regard it as of Roman erection. 
The bricks, however, are not sucli as were used by the 
Romans, but of the kind found in Saxon structures. 
At the inner termination of this bridge there were to be 
seen, some years ago, the remains of two round towers, 
each of about fourteen feet in diameter, by which it had 
been aneiently cuarded. 

When Mr. King, in 1776, wrote his ‘ Cbservations 
on Ancient Castles,’ printed in the fourth volume of the 
‘ Archeologia, and even, in 1793, when Mr. Wilkins 
prepared his ‘ Essay towards a History of the Venta 
Icencrum of the Romans,’ published in the twelfth 
volume of the same collection, Norwich Castle was 
still roofed in and filled with apartments. In con- 
seqnence, indeed, of its having been long used as 
the county-eaol, its interior arrangements had under- 
cone many alterations; but still it was possible to trace 
their original disposition to a considerable extent. “Phis 


Mr. Wilkins has done, and his ‘ Essay’ is illustrated | 
so named by the Saxons. 


by numerous plaus and other engravings, exhibiting the 
state of the different floors. The building is now, how- 
ever, a mere shell, the interior partitions being entirely 
eutted out, and the roof removed. About forty years 
ago, a new ouildine was erected to serve as the gaol, 
being that which in the view is seen attached to the 
east end of the far more majestic old keep. This an- 
nexation, of puny dimensions, and in an incongruous 
style of architecture, certainly disfigures, in no slight 
degree, the noble structure to which it is attached, and 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


103 
injures the grand simplicity of tts effect. If the castle 
could no longer be accommodated to the purposes of 
a piace of confinement, there would seem at least to 
have been no necessity for sticking the new prison upon 
one of the ends of the old one. By this conjunction, 
both buildings are deformed. “ 

The east end of the castle, the greater part of which 
is now in manner hidden from view, was the principal 
front of the building. Here was an oblong projection, 
measuring fourteen feet from the wall, by about twenty- 
seven in the opposite direction, which served as a sort 
of porch or outer tower leading to the greater strong- 
hold. It adjoined the northern corner. The archi- 
tecture of this exterior erection was more ornamental 
than that of the body of the castle, and seemed to indi- 
cate that it had been raised in a more recent age; on 
which account Mr. Wilkins has called it Bigot’s Tower, 
after the nobleman in whose hands the place was after 
the Norman Conquest. It does not appear, however, 
that the tower had been traditionally known by ‘this 
appellation. It was adorned by three arches from the 
east, and one at its northern extremity. ; 

Lhe main building is a parallelogram, 110 feet in 


length from east to west, by abont 93 feet in breadth. 


With the exception of the east eud already noticed, the 
different sides preseut nearly the same general aspect, 
—a basement story built of rough flint-stones, and 
above that three upper stories, constructed of re@ularly- 
laid and ornamented freestone. . Running along each 
is a series of semicircular arches, supported by small 
columns, and between them slight buttresses ascend 
from the base of the wall to the top. In the upper 
story the face of the wall behind the arches is formed 
into a sort of net-work by the stones being ranged in 
diagonal rows, and being besides ornamented with deep 
grooves, so as to produce a sort of cross-hatchine. The 
entire height is nearly seventy feet, of which twenty- 
four feet is occupied by the basement story; and the 
whole terminates in a battlemented ridge. The walls 
are in some places thirteen feet thick. 

The origin of the building is involved in great un- 
certainty ; and the question has much divided the auti- 
quaries. “ Vulgar tradition,” says Thornhaugh Gurdon, 
in a short anonymous Essay, published at Norwich 
in 1728, “ first makes it a British castle of great 
strength, before Julius Cesar peeped into the nation ; 
and another part of the same tradition gives it a high 
founder, no less man than Julius Cesar, and that: the 
ereat crack in the east wall of it was made at the same 
tine the veil of the Temple was rent; and have pro- 
duced some other such-like brats of prolific inagination, 
not worthy of confutation.” Gurdon has traced the 
known history of the castle with considerable learning ; 
and his sketch has been the guide of most of those who 
have since given an account of it. ‘The common opi- 
nion is, that the original Roman station in this part of 
the island, the Venta Icenorum as they called it, was 
at Castor, about three miles south from Norwich; al- 
though Mr. Blomefield, the learned historian of the 
county, conceives it to have been not here but at Elm: 
ham. It can scarcely be doubted, however, that Castor 
was a Roman or British settlement, whether that called 
in the * Itineraries’ Venta Icenorum or not. It was in 
all probability in reference to Castor that Norwich was 
The word signifies merely 
the northern town. When the Saxon leader, Uffa, in 
976, founded the kingdom of East Angelia, the present 
county of Norfolk formed a part of it ; and it 1s ascer- 
tained that, before the middle of the following century, 
Anna, one of Uffa’s successors, had a castle or royal 
residence here. What sort of erection this may have 
been, however, it is impossible to say. Ancient au- 
thorities state, that when Alfred the Great, in the 
ninth century, repaired and restored the different castles 


104 


which had suffered from the devastations ot the Danes, 
he, for the first time, built of stone many of them which 
had before been constructed only of earth; and that of 
Norwich seems to be spoken of as one of the number, 
Alfred’s Castle, however, was, in the beginning of the 
eleventh century, entirely destroyed by the Danish 
invader, Sweyu. There is no mention in any record of 
the erection of another fortress before the Norman Con- 
quest ; but from the character of the architecture of the 
present building, which is not Norman, but Saxon, it is 
supposed to have been the work of Sweyn’s son, Canute 
the Great, who, during his peaceful reign, is known to 
have planted many such strongholds throughout the 
country, the better to control his subjugated kingdom. 
After the Conquest, in 1077, Roger Bigot is recorded 
to have been appointed Constable of Norwich Castle. 
It remained in that family until it was surrendered to 
the crown, in 1225, in the reign of Edward III. Abont 
half a century afterwards, however, it was again granted 
to the Bigots, now become Earls of Norfolk, and 
Marshals of England. ‘The other historic notices which 
have been preserved of it, merely record the names of 
the successive noblemen who enjoyed the honour ‘of 
being its constables. ‘It became eventually the property 
of the crown, in whose possession it continued till the 
year 1806, when it was, by act of parliament, made 
over, in trust, to the magistrates of Norfolk, to be by 
them disposed of for purposes connected with the public 
business of the county. | ™ 

The mode in which Norwich Castle appears to have 
been fortified is certainly somewhat peculiar, and ought, 
perhaps, to be considered as alone furnishing a strong 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 15, 1834, 


proof that it is not a Norman work. Some antiquaries 
have even gone so far for the model of the three circular 
walls as to the Temple of Jerusalem, and certain 
oriental fortresses of equal or perhaps greater anti- 
quity, which are stated by Josephus to have been con- 
structed in this fashion. It may be observed, however, 
that, admitting the original foundation of the castle, 
and the form of the outworks, to belong to times ante- 
cedent to the Norman invasion, the keep may still have 
been erected since that event. In so far as its interior 
construction can now be ascertained, 1t appears to have 
closely resembled the castles of Canterbury and Ro- 
chester, both of which were Norman structures. It 
seems to have been, for instance, divided, as they were, 
into two parts by a strong partition, running across it 
from ‘east to west, and probably containing a well which 
was open from the foundation to the summit of the 
building. Norwich Castle, we may mention in con- 
clusion, was in former times popularly known by the 
name of Blanche-flower, in allusion perhaps to the 


-colour of the stone, which, when new, would be white, 
but more probably, we think, to the general beauty 
of its appearance. ‘This appellation seems to have been 


forgotten at the beginning of the last century. Gurdon 
says he must believe it to have been at one time 
in use, because Coke mentions it in his ‘ Institutes.’ 
But the castle is also so called by others ;—for example, 
by the writer of a very curious account of the reception 
given by the people of Norwich to Queen Elizabeth, 
when she visited the city in 1587, which may be found 
in Hollingshed, and also in Nichols’s Progresses of that 
(queen. 











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© The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Usefur Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 
. LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 





Printed by Wituram CLrowss Duke Street, Lambeth 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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socicty for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY 


[Marcu 22, 1834, 





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In No. 73 of the § Penny Magazine’ a group of several 
specimens of the Toucan was given, accompanied by a 
short account’of that remarkable bird. For the present 
very curious variety we are indebted to Mr. Gould’s 
splendid ‘ Monograph of the Family of Ramphastida,’ 
the author of which has given the only description of 
the bird, and supplied the specific denomination. It is 
thus described :—The beak is lengthened, both man- 
dibles being edged with thickly-set white ‘serratures ; 
the upper has the culmen of an orange colour, bordered 
by a narrow longitudinal stripe of dull blue, extending 
nearly to the tip, below which the sides of the mandible 
are fine orange red ; a white line surrounds the apertures 
of the nostrils; the under mandible is straw-coloured, 
becoming orange at the tip ;—a narrow band of rich 
chestnut encircles both mandibles at their base. The 
crown of the head is covered with a crest of curled, 
metal-like feathers, without barbs, of an intense black, 
and very glossy; as they approach the occiput these ap- 
pendages gradually lose their curled character and be- 
come straight, narrow, and spatulate. In mentioning 
this part, Mr. Gould regrets that it was beyond the 
efforts of the pencil to do justice to the rich appearance 
of these glossy and curiously-curled appendages, the 
structure of which appears to consist in a dilatation of 
the shaft of each feather, or, perhaps, an agglutination 
of the web into one mass. ‘The feathers on the cheeks 
have the same form as those on the occiptit, bnt are 
more decidedly spatulate, and being of a yellowish- 
white colour, tipped at the extremity with black. The 
occiput and upper tail coverts are of a deep blood-red ; 
the chest delicate yellow, with slight, crescent-shaped 
bars of red. The back, tail, and thighs are olive-green, 
the quills brown, and the tarsi of a lead-coldur. The 
following were the dimensions of the specimen re- 
presented :—total Jen#th eighteen inches, bill four, 
wings five and thiée-quartérs, tail seven and a-half, 
tarsi two and a quarter. — . - 

Two éxamplés of this speciés formed part of a cdllec- 
tion of rare birds browght to this country from Rio de 
Janeiro. Of these Mr. Gould was so fortunaté as to 
obtain one of the fiiiest, apparently a male, and which 
is now in the Museum of the Zoological Society of 
London. The other, which is considered a female, is 
preserved in the British Museum. The habitat of this 
species is probably in the almost wntrddden forests 
which border the River Amazon; but our information 
concerning it Is at present limited to the above deéserip- 
tion of its appearance. 


THE LABOURERS OF EUROPE.—No. X. 
Tur Preasanrry or tHE ALYs.—SwiTZERLAND, 


Tn the Alpine districts of Switzerland, which occupy all 
the eastern and southern, and some of the central, parts 
of that country, each proprietor cultivates his own por- 
tion of land in the valleys; the pasture and forest lands 
on the mountains are in common. Cows constitute the 
wealth of the land-owiers, and goats form the resources 
of the poorer people. The goat is peculiarly fitted for 
mountain-pastures, as he will climb and browse on crags 
and cliffs where sheep could not ascénd. In winter, 
the goats are fed on the boughs of the fir tree. A 
goat yields more inilk than a ewe: but goats are also 
very destructive to gardens, plantations, and shrub- 
beries. In some parts of Switzerland a cow will give 
as much as twelve quarts of milk inaday. A variety 
of cheese is made, which constitutes the chief article of 
exportation, and in return for which the inhabitants 
procure those necessaries, and even luxuries, which their 
country does not afford. ‘The cheese called Gruyere is 
much celebrated, and considerable quantities are yearly 
exported. The cheeses of Urseren, Unterwalden, Eim- 
nenthal; &c., are also much esteemed :—some of these 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| Marcu 22, 


will keep for halfa century. The cheese called Schab 
ziewer is made in the canton of Glarus, and is mixed 
with aromatic herbs or flowers. ‘The value of the 
cheese, butter, and other preparations of milk is cal- 
culated at about 25,000,000 of Swiss livres, or 
1,500,000/. sterling, yearly. 

The valleys at the foot of the Alps produce a little 
corn, and abundance of potatoes, turnips, carrots, and 
other roots. Fruit trees, such as the apple, the pear, 
the cherry, the plum, are alsoabundant. Some districts, 
such as the Canton of Zug, for instance, appear like 
one vast orchard. The vine, however, does not grow, 
except in very few spots. 

In the upper valleys of the Alps, where the winter 
lasts for six or eight months, during the greater part of 
which the snow blocks up the communications, each 
family must lay in provisions for that season. The 
following has been Stated as the quantity required for a 
family of seven persons :—1 cwt. of hard-baked bread ; 
1000 Ib. of potatoes; 7 cheeses, each weighing 25lb. ; 
besides the milk of three cows and seven goats. Once 
of the cows is killed durmg the season. During this 
dreary period, the family are employed in making linen 
for their own use, for which purpose a small patch of 
the ground belonging to every cottage is sown with 
flax. The men are busy at several kinds of in-door 
work ; they carve wood into different articles of tse or 
ornament, such as bowls, toys, clogs, spoons, &c., in 
which they are very skilful, and which they afterwards 
sell in the towns. ‘The houses are mostly built of wood, 
and detached in scattered hamlets to avoid the spreading 
of fire. ‘They are generally large, solid, and roomy ; 
the interior kept very clean, the windows glazed, but, 
owing to the cold, only one-fourth part or panel bf the 
sash is made to open. Added to this, the stoves, made 
of a soft; porous stone,—and with which thé rooms are 
warmed,—produce an unpleasant smell, which is not 
heeded by the inhabitants, who sit for days together, in 
winter, crowded into one room. Sudden transition 
from the icy atmosphere outside to the high temperature 
of the apartments, is the cause of many colds and 
coughs, which often terminate in death. | 

The population of these mountaili cantons is strictly 
pastoral. ‘The land in the valleys is divided by thick 
hedges into fields for pasture, and to every dwelling- 
house, capacious stables are attached. Each pro- 
prietor is allowed to take to the common pastures on 
the Alps in summer as many cows as he can support in 
wiiiter by fodder collected on his own fields. He leaves 
his winter-habitation in May, and proceeds with his 
family and his cattle, carrying with him some furiiture 
and utensils, to the pastures which the snow has just 
left, and where he has his chalet, or hut, for the 
season.- He remains there till July, and, during this 
time, descends into the valley for several days to mow 
his hay. At the beginning of July, the snow having 
left the highest pastures,—which are, in some placcs, 
5000 feet above the plain,—the family proceed to the 
third, or summer-house, where they remain till the 
middle of August, when the weather becomes too cold 
longer to dwell on those great heights, and they return 
to the middle pastures where the grass has had time to 
spring up again in the interval. The men descend again 
to tle valley to mow the second crop of hay. Towards 
the erid of October the cattle re-descend into the valley, 
where they graze on the short grass that remains until 
the winter obliges them to be shut up in the stable, 
where they are fed upon dry fodder. The usual repast 
of the family consists of boiled milk, potatoes, and 
cheese of the year; old cheese is occasionally added by 
way of luxury. Coflee is very generally drunk in the 
morning. 

Ainong thé arhnusements of the Swiss mountaineers, 
a kind of wrestling, which they call schwingen, is a 


1824, , 


favourite one. Regular matches are agreed upon and 
advertised beforehand, and a prize, such as a sheep, or 
a cheese, awarded to the winner. The innkeeper of 
the village where the match takes place cenerally 
bestows the prize, for which he is well. compensated by 
the multitude of customers attracted to the spot. But 
there are also wrestling matches on a larger scale. 
Certain communes, or districts, or even whole cantons, 
send a challenge to their neighbours to try which has 
the best wrestlers ;—the men of Glarus against the 
men of Schwytz, or the Oberland against the Simmen- 
thal. These matches are conducted with much order 
and regularity, and with no small display of local or 
provincial pride. 

In the eastern cantons, especially among the robust 
mountaineers of Appenzell, they have a sport some- 
what resembling the hurling of some counties in Eng- 
land. It consists in balancing a ponderous stone, or 
fragment of rock, upon the palm of the right hand, 
bent backwards to the shoulder; and, after swinging the 
body to and fro for some time, with one foot raised from 
the ground, sending the fragment, by a sudden exer- 
tion of muscular strength, against » mark or over a 
certain limit. 

Firing with a rifle at a target is a common exercise all 
over Switzerland. ‘There are societies who bestow prizes 
on the best marksmen. Once a-year each canton sends a 
certain number of its riflemen to a general meeting 
from every part of the whole confederation, to try their 
skill. These meetings are truly a national festivity, 
and are conducted with great order and solemnity. 

The pastoral cantons of Switzerland are, in their form 
of government, pure democracies, that is to say, the 
supreme legislative power lies in the dandsgemeinde, or 
weneral assembly of all the male natives of each canton 
who have attained the age of eighteen. ~ ‘I'he assembly 
meets in a field once a-year,—generally in the spring, 
—and oftener if particular circumstances require it. 
The best account of these meetings is given by a 
French traveller, M. Ramond, who attended one in the 
canton of Glarus. 

These little republics are each not so populous as 
many a parish in London ; they have no public esta- 
blishments, and their internal affairs are very simple. 
All matters more complicated, and affecting the whole 
of Switzerland, are discussed in the Duet, which is held 
in one of the cities, and to which every canton sends a 
deputy. These deputies are generally chosen from 
among the better-informed men of tne canton, That 
of Schwytz once sent an honest but uninformed peasant. 
When the deputy returned, and appeared before his 
countrymen at the next general assembly, he told them 
that, ‘‘if they wished that.their interests should be pro- 
perly attended to at the Diet, they must not send men 
like himself, who were only acquainted with the concerns 
of their cattle and their dairies, but men who had 
studied and travelled, who could understand what those 
other gentlemen from the towns talked about, and 
could answer them to the purpose, and make themselves 
minded by them ™*.” 





Sater ett 


Antient Marriages—Among the antient privileges of 
royalty in this country, may be mentioned the right which 
the kings claimed of exercising a control, not always pa- 
ternal, over the marriages of persons of any consideration. 
The rolls, for the year 1206, exhibit two notifications on thus 
subject. The first notifies to the Barons of the Exchequer, 
that Roger Fitz Henry had paid to the king the fine of one 
palfrey, which he had incurred by taking to wife the widow 
of Hugh Wac: and the other notifies to the sheriff of Lin- 
coln, that the king had given to Brian de Insula, a knight, 
the daugliter and heiress of William*Seleby, to wife, wih 
all her land, of which the sheriff is directed to put him in 
possession. 


_* Mullex’s History of Switzerland. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


107 


Reserve.—Persons extremely reserved are like old ena- 
melled watches which had painted covers, that hindered 
your seeing what o'clock it was.— Horace Walpole. 


Matrimonial Forbearances.—Man and wife are equally 
concerned to avoid all offences of each other in the begin- 
niug of their conversation: every little thing can blast an 
infant blossom ; and the breath of the south can shake the 
little rings of the vine, when first they begin to curl like the 
locks of a new-weaned boy: but when, by age and consoli- 
dation, they stiffen into the hardness of a stem, and have, 
by the warm embraces of the sun and the kisses of heayen, 
brought forth their clusters, they can endure the storms of 
the north, and the loud noises of a tempest, and yet never 
be broken. So are the early unions of an unfixed marriage ; 
watchful and observant, jealous and busy, inquisitive and 
careful, and apt to take alarm at every unkind word: for 
infirmities do not manifest themselves in the first scenes, 
but in the succession of a long society; and it 1s not chance 
or weakness when it appears at first, but itis want of love 
or prudence, or it will be so expounded; and that which 
appears ill at first, usually affrights the mexperienced man 
or woman, who makes unequal conjectures, and fancies 


mighty sorrows by the proportions of the new and early 


unkindness.—Jeremy Taylor. 


Eatraordinary Article in the Ecclesiastical Code of Ice- 
land.—In the ecclesiastical code of this country an article 
is extant, singular, perhaps, in its nature, but admirable in 
its design, which gives to the bishop, or even to the inferior 
clergy, the right of preventing any marriage where the 
female is unable to read. This law, which provide’ so pow- 
erful a pledge for the instruction of the rising generation, 
is still occasionally acted upon, though, probably, not with 
so much strictness as in former times. The books in the 
possession of the lower classes are generally of a religious 
nature, a great number of such works having been printed 
in Iceland during the last two or three centuries, and very 
generally circulated through the country. In many parishes 
there is a small collection of books belonging to the church, 
from which, under the superintendence of the priest, each 
family in the district may derive some little addition to its 
means of instruction and improvement.—Szr George Mac- 
kenzie’s Travels in Iceland. 

Peruvian Sepulchres.—At the foot of a high mountain 
which rises from the shore of a small bay called Chacota, 
to the south of Arica, are a great number of antient sepul- 
chres. These are covered over, like the adjacent soil, with 
a species of earth very much impregnated with salt; and to 
this may be doubtless attributed the preservation of this 
memento of the unhappy aborigines of the country. In 
1790, several of these sepulchres were examined by Don 
Felipe Bauza, a captain in the Spanish navy, who found the 
eteater part of the bodies in an entire condition, but withered 
to a skeleton, covered with a dark brown skin, and the hair 
of some quite of a red colour. The niches in which they 
were deposited were generally cut out of the stone from four 
to five feet in length ; some being rudely carved, and having 
at the bottom a mat made of rushes. The bodies were 
placed on this mat, the same attitude being generally ob- 
served in all. They were seated cross-legged, with the 
lands placed over the breast, and so contracted as to occupy 
the least possible space. Others were seated with their 
knees bent up near the mouth, the hands hkewise being 
crossed over the breast, and all placed with their faces to- 
wards the west. The body of a young man was taken out, 
that had been wrapped in cloth, and his features were still 
distinct: that of a woman was also examined whose hair 
was in perfect preservation—it was about half a yard in 
length, and divided into two parts. Some of the bodies 
were wrapped in a sort of coarse woollen cloth from the head 
to the feet, the mouth being tied up; others were wrapped 
in coarse nets made of “ pita,” and all of them had a small 
bag hung round the neck, which was found at the time to 
contain nothing but earth and dust, whatever it might origi- 
nally have been. Various little pots, made of clay, were 
found round the bodies, and some larger ones of curious 
forms. In addition to these, some fragments, apparently of 
plates, an ear of corn, some pita, and other trifling articles, 
were found; also some small pieces of copper cut in the 
shape of coins. In Ylo, and other parts of this coast, these 

epulchxes axe common. | 
s P 2 


10S 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 22, 


DOVE-DALE. 


= 

Ae 

AY aad: 
=e, 


SS eee SS; ‘ 


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Sotiiewtin, 


Res 
Lee he 


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— 


Fe. : 
Or.the-.varied scenery for which Derbyshire is so much 
celebrated, its numerous dales form the most beautiful 
and interesting portion. ‘The first of the number, in 
size as well as beauty, is the far-famed and romantic 
Dove-dale, so called from the river Dove, which pours 
its waters through it. On entering this enchanting 
spot, the sudden change of scenery, from that of the 
surrounding country, is powerfully striking. The 
brown heath, or richly-cultivated meadow, is exchanged 
for rocks abrupt and vast, which rise on each side, their 
erey sides harmonized by mosses, lichens, and yew- 
trees, and their tops sprinkled with mountain-ash. The 
hills that inclose this narrow dell are very precipitous, 
and bear on their sides fragments of rock that, in the 
distance, look like the remains of ruined castles. After 
proceeding a little way, a deep and narrow valley 
appears, into the recesses of which the eye is prevented 
from penetrating, by the winding course it pursues and 
by the shutting in of its precipices which fold into each 
other and preclude all distant view. <A further pro- 
gress exhibits an increase of majesty and rudeness in 
the scene. The objects which, at a distance, appeared 
to have been ruins, are found to be rude pyramids of 
rock and grand isolated masses, ornamented with ivy, 
rising in the middle of the vale. The rocks which 
inclose the dale, forcing their scattered and uncovered 
heads into the clouds, overhang the narrow path that 
winds through its dark recesses, and, frowning in 
craggy grandeur, and shagey with the dark foliage that 
crows out of the chinks and clings to the asperities of 
the rocks, form a scene unrivalled in romantic effect. 
The mountain, which rises in the back-ground of the 
view wiven above, (which, with the one in the following 
page, are engraved from drawings made purposely by 


Mr. R.W. Buss,) is known by the name of Thorp 
Cloud, On proceeding about a mile into the yale, 


rd 
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———e « o on 
neem 
Sera, sae 
: Sree 





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Tete) 
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matte sade fat ties Ke 


[Entrance to Dove-Dale. } 


fantastic forms and uncouth combinations are exhi- 
bited, in vast detached mural masses, while the sides 
of the dell are perforated by many small natural 
caverns which are difficult of access. 

‘The length of Dove-dale is nearly three miles, and 
it is in no part more than a quarter of a mile wide, 
while in some places it almost closes, scarcely leaving 
room for the passage of its narrow river. On the right, 
or Derbyshire side of the Dale, the rocks are more bare 
of vegetation than on the opposite or Staffordshire side, 
Where they are thickly covered with a fine hanging: 
wood of various trees and odoriferous shrubs and plants. 
The frequent changes in the motion and appearance of 
the transparent Dove, which is interspersed with small 


islands and little waterfalls, contribute to diversify the 


scenery oi this charming spot; while the rugged, dissi- 
milar, and frequently grotesque and fanciful appearance 


of the rocks, gives to it that peculiar character by which 
it is distinguished from every other in the kingdom. 
The view in the following page is of a very remarkable 


scene of this description, and cannot fail to be imme- 


diately recognized by every one who has had the plea- 
sure of visiting the spot. 


The Dove has long been famous among anelers ; old 


Izaak Walton, his disciple Cotton, and Sir Humphry 


Davy, have all celebrated it, not only for the sport it 
afforded them, but for its natural charms. 

We cannot dismiss a notice of this very interesting 
spot without mentioning a peculiarly graceful custom 
which still lingers in its neighbourhood,—one of those 
poetical usages of the olden time which have almost 
departed from the country, and the loss of which none 
would regret more than ourselves, did we not consider 
it a necessary result of that risen standard in the every 
day enjoyments of the people, which, by affording many 
objects to interest the mind that did not formerly exist, 


1834] 


and by diminishing the distance between the pleasures 
of ordinary and festival days, weakens the stimulus to 
their observance. ‘The custom which gave occasion to 
this remark is thus described by Rhodes in his ‘ Peak 
Scenery.’ 


** An ancient custom still prevails in the village of 


Tissington, to which, indeed, it appears to be confined 

= ) ’ ’ Pp aa =) 
for I have not met with any thing of a similar descrip- 
tion im any other part of Derbyshire. It is denominated 
* Well-flowering,’ and Holy Thursday is devoted to 
the rites and ceremonies of this elegant custom. This 
day is regarded as a festival, and all the wells in the 
place, five in number, are decorated with wreaths and 
garlands of newly-@athered flowers, disposed in various 
devices. Sometimes boards are used, which are cut 
into the figure-intended to be represented, and covered 






wet eet 
h 


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< a OR I ee ZI Hi} 
{f | ~ - “ f ~ NS = Te t 
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: RIF I Ot Se ce, Hf f es 


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DOKI 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Sa a oe — 
= acl —- 2 ft 
= ; l = > === 
| = ee — — 
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a * = 
5 tw % ———— < = Nie 


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fe ee Sehr 
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. Hew sa . mM natAG =F 9 » zs ry f. 4, ; 
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109 
with moist clay, into which the stems of the flowers are 
inserted to preserve their freshness; and they are so 
arranged as to form a beautiful mosaic work, often 
tasteful in design, and vivid in colouring. The boards 
thus adorned are so placed in the spring that the water 
appears to issue from amongst beds of flowers. On 
this occasion the villagers put on their best attire, and 
open their houses to their friends. There is a service 
at the church, where a sermon is preached: afterwards 
a procession takes place, and the wells are visited in 
succession; the psalms for the day, the epistle and 
gospel are read, one at each well, and the whole con- 
cludes with a hymn, which - is sung by the church- 
singers, accompanied by a band of music. After this, 


the people separate, and the remainder of the day is 
spent in rural sports and holiday pastimes.” 


gg 
AS, ce 


HEA ahi : iy 

OTSA TS RE te: 

i inti , Fr BRAN INTO qe 
I) | mM 


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es a 
—SS 
s 
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Tey 


wf ( 
cA ~ 
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1 
f 


be ¢ 
Hy 


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ff 
is 


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ae 
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Mths, 
SS ee ik 


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Wane ee 
ried 


att ie = 
re 
va 


<a 


») 


A WH? Seth, 
— YESOID 


e hs Nee Pe A 
BN a Sif det Bd 
Le RPREYY (eet 
‘°- if a 
2p is WR 
Pa = we 


, i aN ; 
Mis ae 


egy 
~~ 


(Scene in Dove-Dale. | 





PAINTING IN THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY. 


It appears that in the thirteenth century the cultivation 
of the fine arts received a new impulse from the liberal 
patronage of Henry III.,—a weak king, but a person 
of cultivated taste for the period in which he lived, and 
whose profusion was not always so unworthily displayed 
as we might infer if the complaints of the barons only 
were heard. The remaining sculptures of this period 
exhibit a decided improvement; painting on elass was 
much cultivated, and there are still preserved in the 
British Museum illuminated manuscripts, which show 
that the art of illuminating had been brought to ereat 
perfection. It appears that painting was cultivated 
with equal diligence and success. Henry III. kept 
several painters constantly in his employ ; among whom, 
William a monk of Westminster, William the Floren- 
tine, and Walter of Colchester, seem to have been par- 
ticularly distinguished, By these, and others, several 


historical paintings were executed in the royal palaces ; 
representing either subjects from the Old and New Testa- 
ments, or events in the life of the kings. The following 
order, with regard to such a painting, has an increased 
interest from referring to circumstances in the life of 
Henry III. which history does not, to our knowledge, 
mention, The king’s treasurer, and Edward of West- 
minster, are commanded to pay to William the Painter, 
a monk of Westminster, his charges for painting at 
Westminster, in the wardrobe, where the kine was 
accustomed to wash his hands, a certain picture, repre- 
senting the king rescued by his dogs from the seditions 
which were plotted against him by his subjects. Dated 
1256. An order, dated a few years previous, commands 
Iidward of Westminster to cause the images of the 
Apostles to be painted around St. Stephen’s Chapel, 
(the present House of Commons,) and the Judgment 
Day on the western side; and in like manner to cause 
the figure of the Blessed Virgin Mary to be painted on 


119 


a tablet, so that they may be ready at the king’s coming 
there. 

It appears that the exploits of King Richard L,, 
in the third crusade, afforded favourite subjects for 
both poetry and painting during the reign of Henry Lil. 
‘The king had such subjects painted in a chamber of 
his palace at Clarendon, and in the Tower of London, 
and in one of his chambers at Westminster, which was 
thence called the Antioch Chamber,—Antioch having 
been the scene of the exploits commemorated. Beneath 
the grand historical picture in this chamber, the king 
had directed a picture to be painted representing birds, 
lions, and other beasts. Better consideration induced 
him to countermand this order, and to direct that the 
unoccupied space should be painted green, after the 
fashion of a curtain or hanging, so that the effect of 
the great history might be left unimpaired. 

The following curious order, issued in 1236, though 
it scarcely exemplifies the state of the fine arts, may be 
noiiced in this place. ‘The treasurer is commanded to 
cause, against the kine’s arrival, the great chamber at 
Westminster to be painted with a good green colour, 
after the fashion of a curtain; and, in the great gable 
of the same chamber, near the door, this device to be 
painted, “‘ Ke ne dune keue tine ne prent ke desir*.” 
‘he king’s small wardrobe is directed to be painted in 
the same manner. 

As this order was of an earlier date than the former, 
we may be allowed thence to infer a gradual iunprove- 
ment in the royal taste for internal decoration. It ap- 
pears that the taste for painting extended so rapidly, 
that, in the next century, not only churches and palaces 
but private houses were decorated with them. So 
when Chaucer awoke from his poetical dream, he ex- 
presses his surprise that all the gay objects he had seen 
in his sleep were vanished, and he saw nothing, 

* Save on the wals old portraiture 

Of horsemen, haukes, and houndis, 

And hart dire all fuil of woundis.” 
And although, in considering this a real description of 
the poet’s bed-chamber, the peculiar refinement of his 
taste must be taken into the account, it appears that in 
his time drawing had come to be considered a necessary 
part of an accomplished gentlerman’s education. Chaucer 
names the following among the acquirements of the 
squire, or knight’s son :— 

‘¢ __ Songis he could make, and well indite, 
Just, and eke daunce, and well portraie and write.” 

it is observable that, in most of the royal orders of 
this period, talent is tasked to produce its works within 
a given, and often a very short, time ;—generally 
‘‘ against the king's arrival.” Nor were such labours, 
even in the highest departments of art, always matters 
of voluntary undertaking. Among other instances, the 
followmg may be mentioned:—Edward LII., in his 
anxiety for the speedy completion of the painting in the 
chapel of his palace, issued a precept, dated 18th March, 
1350, to Hugh de St. Alban, his chief painter, com- 
manding him to impress all the painters in the counties 
of Middlesex, Kent, Essex, Surrey, and Sussex, to 
conduct them to Westminster, and to keep them in his 
service so long as should be necessary; and, apprehend- 
ing that these would not be sufficient, a similar order 
was given for the impressment of all the painters in the 
counties of Lincoin, Northampton, Oxford, Warwick, 
Leicester, Cambridge, Huntingdon, and Norfolk. There 
is other evidence to show that personal liberty was com- 
promised by the attainment of great skill in any art 
which could minister to the royal taste or convenience ; 
and talent, instead of leading to that distinction, inde- 
pendence, aud wealth, which are its due, conducted its 
possessor to grind in the prison-house. One of the 


* He who has, and does not give, 
Will not, when he wants, receay¢s 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


(1669 during the frst Dutch war, 


[Marcu 22, 


Rolls before us is dated the 6th of John, 27th June, 
1204, and notifies to Robert de Vipont, that Thomas 
the arrow-maker had been committed by the king to 
the custody of Hugh de Nevill, Thomas de Sanford, 
and John Fitz Hugh, who had undertaken not to let 
him depart from court without the royal licence, and 
had engaged that he should make six arrows for the 
king’s use every day, except Sunday, 


MUSIC FOR THE MANY.—No. III. 


Witn the immoral reign of Charles II. an entirely 
different order of things commenced. ‘The opponents 
of the Puritans then had their own way, and could no 
longer complain of restrictions put upon piping and 
dancing, balls and plays. Songs again appeared in 
countless numbers, but they were too often indecent 
and immoral, and calculated rather for the atmosphere 
of a witty but corrupt court, than for the purer air of 
the country, or for the enjoyment_.of the people at large. 
Charles himself was a song writer, and a piece of his is 
extant, beginning,— 
J pass all my hours in a shady old grove ;”’ 


‘* which,” says a sarcastic critic, ** though by no means 
remarkable for poetical merit, has certainly enough for 
the composition of a king *,” 

Some of the songs, however, written during this 
reign by Sedley, Rochester, Dorset, Sheffield, and 
others, to say nothing of those of the great Dryden, 
were master pieces in their way, and uwnexceptionable as 
to morals, ‘There is particularly a sea song, written by 
Lord Dorset the night (it is said) before an engage- 
ment with the Dutch, which, from its admirable ease, 
flow, and tenderness, became at once popular with all 
classes +. We quote ihe first two verses as a specimen. 


6 To all you ladies now at land 
We men at sea indite, 
But first would have you understand: 
Iiow hard it is to write. 
The Muses now, and Neptune too, 
We must unplore to write to you. 
With a fa, la, la, la, la, 
For though the Muses should prove kind, 
And‘ fill our empty brain ; ’ 
Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind’ 
To wave the azure main $ 
Our paper, pen, and ink, and we, 
Roll up and down our ships at sea, 
With a fa, &c.” 
Indeed the shorter pieces of most of the poets of the 
time of Charles If. had a rhythm and cadence particu- 
larly well suited to music. They were, in short, what 
the Italians’ call cwntabile, or fit to be sung. Besides 
writing words for songs, Charles understood a little 
music, and could sing the tenor part in an easy duet. 
He frequently amused himself in this way with a good 
sinver on the establishment of the Chapel Royal, his 
brother, the Duke of York (afterwards James II.), ac- 
companying then on the guitar. 

In the succeeding reigns, with the growth of our 
literature, there was a considerable increase in song 
writing ; most of our poets of eminence, and some who 
had no eminence except what taey obtained in that 
way, devoting themselves occasionally to the composi- 
tion of lyrical pieces. Prior, Rowe, Steele, Philips, 
Parnell, Gay, and others, contributed a stock which 
night advantageously be referred to by the composers 


* Ritson. 

+ Dr. Johnson remarks on the circumstances under which this 
song was written :— Seldom any splendid story is wholly true, I 
have heard from the late Karl of Orrery, who was likely to have 
good hereditary intelligence, that Lord Dorset had been a week 
employed upon it, and only retouched or finished it on the memo- 
rable evening. but even this, whatever it may subtract from his 
facility, leaves him his courage.’ This battle was fought in 


1834] 


of our own times. The natural and elegant, the 
humorous and pathetic Gay, shows, perhaps, to most 
advantage. One of his ballads, ‘ Black-eyed Susan,’ 
can never be forgotten, and some others of his are 
almost equally admirable, particularly that beginning,— 


“‘ *Twas when the seas were roaring 
With hollow blasts of wind, 
A damsel lay deploring, 
All on a rock reclined. 


Wide o’er the foaming billows 
She cast a wistful look ; 
Her head was crowned with willows,- 
That trembled o’er the brook *.” 
Music, however, was far from keeping pace with poetry. 
There was, indeed, at the latter part of the seventeenth 
and beginning of the eighteenth century, that admirable 
composer Purcell, Henry Carey, and one or two others, 
but nearly all the new songs produced were not accom- 
panied, by new music, but set to old tunes, It is a 
curious fact, that when Gay brought out his * Beggars’ 
Opera’ not one of the airs to the seventy-two songs in 
that piece was composed for the purpose. ‘They were 
all music already considered old. It is to be regretted 
that many of those airs have lost their original simpli- 
city; but, as Dr. Burney observes, music never remains 
long simple when it has once been introduced upon the 
stage. 
Another subject of regret in the view we take, 1s, 


that neither the words nor the music of the good new | 


pieces that appeared seem to have been so spread 
amone the great body of the people as were those of 
the times of Elizabeth, James I., and CharlesI. There 
is, however, one memorable exception in the case of 
Henry Carey, who struck into a new path, and in his 
* Sally in our Alley,’ of which he wrote both the words 


and the music, obtained at once a popularity (using | 
that word in its proper sense) which he has never lost | 


and never will Jose. This sone was scon known from 
one end of the kingdom to the other,—like those of the 
olden time the ploughman whistled it “ over the fur- 
rowed land,” and it was ‘° sung to the wheel and sung 
unto the pail.” Addison, one of the most elegant 
writers of that or any other period, shared in the taste 
of the people; this sweet simple song was an especial 
favourite with him. 

In the reigns of George I. and George ITI., just as it 
has happened under the third and fourth monarchs of 
that name, there was not wanting a mob of fashionable 
easy writers to inflict on the public deluges of namby- 
pamby, mellifluous sone and verse, without the shadow 
of asentiment or meaning. Pope has most happily 
parodied these fashionable sing-songs in the character 
of *‘ a person of quality,” in those well known verses 
begimning,— 

“ Fluttering spread thy purple pinions, 
Gentle Cupid, o’er my heart,” 
in which he condeuses all their classico-pastoral absur- 


dities, and surpasses all their honeyed sweetness to the | 


utter discomfiture of common sense. ‘To stop thie 
march of nonsense in the way of songs, was more, how- 
ever, than the wit of Pope could achieve. At the same 
time his friend Swift employed his exquisite humour 
and tact in ridiculing the affected musical jargon which 
then prevailed in fashionable life +. _ 

Lhe Italian opera, first introduced in the reign of 
Aune, though it did not set an example of having good 
words for good music, iniproved the musical taste of 
some of the rich and great; but from circumstances, 
uot necessary to explain, it could scarcely exercise an 
influence on the people. The opera, moreover, had an 
evil effect, in this way—it led a certain class of persons 


* This piece was set to music by the great Handel, and after- 
wards by Jackson of Exeter, 


+ See his § Cantata.’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


I11 


to believe that no vocal music could be good unless it 
were Italian, or at least foreign. We are not so absurd 
as to deny the surpassing excellence of Italian sone, 
but we may doubt whether the majority of those who 
reasoned in that manner were not merely led by fashion, 
and insensible to the real beauties of all music ; while, 
it is certain, the prejudice tended to dam up the stream 
of English melody. The great composer Handel, at 
the beginning of the last century, beean, and continued 
for many years, to exercise a good influence on tlie 
nation to a very considerable extent. His German 
style of music allied itself more readily with the old 
English style, which, no doubt, it improved. His com- 
positions found their way to most parts of the kingdom, 
atid the more simple of them became the delight of al] 
amateur performers, and were played in all the ventle- 
men’s houses at that period. But we can scarcely trace 
the good taste lower. Interminable ballads, with the 
most monotonous of tunes, were, at that time, the 
favourites of the people. 

Since the days of Handel we have had a few good song 
writers, and several good native composers, such as Dr. 
Boyce, Dr. Arne, Linley, Jackson of Exeter, Shield, 
Dr. Arnold, &c., &c. Linley and Jackson both formed 
their style upon the melodies of our best cld Enelish 
masters, and for this reason we should like to see their 
works reproduced and diffused. Until) the great excite- 
ment of the last war, however, when Dibdin published 
his numerous and admirable sea songs, there was little 
in the way of music that descended to, and laid hold 
of, the poorer classes. In days still more recent the 
delightful lyrics of Mr. Thomas Moore have emulated 
the popularity of Dibdin’s, and have contributed largely 
to raise the taste of the people; though, it must not 
be forgotten, that the airs to the greater part of his 
songs are Irish, not English. It appears, indeed, that 
both the Scotch and Irish of all classes have retained 
their old melodies with a much more carefu) love than 
the English have bestowed on theirs. 

Much has been said about the inherent bad taste of 
Finglish people. It has been assumed that nothing but. 
the common-place and the vulgar, in music, had any 
charms for them; and hence the theatres, and other 
places of amusement, have given them the vulgar and 
the common-place to repletion. It has hitherto been 
the fate of the @reat body of the people to have their 
intellects and tastes unfairly and disparaginely judged 
of, and to have the really good im music, and the rest 
of the fine arts, kept out of their sight and reach. 
Many writers upon taste, who pretended to metaphysics 
and all the loftier branches of philosophy, have asserted 
that the refined strains of music please the uncultivated 
ear much less than the dissonant hubbub to which it 
has been accustomed,—and that, in short, the ruder 
the music, the more it delights the barbarian. 

Yet the writer of these observations has had an op- 
portunity of witnessing the directly contrary effect 
amone the Turks, who are, at least, a semi-barbarous 
people, and who, up to that time, had only heard the 
most primitive and utterly barbarous music. ‘Ihe pre- 
sent Sultan, in the course of his military refcrms, en- 
gaged a certain number of [talian musicians to form 
the nucleus of his bands, and to instruct a set of young 
Turks in their art. Whenever these inen played cn 
parade, or at a review, at Constantinople, the whole 
city ran after them—all classes were immediately en- 
raptured .with the nich, refined music of the Italian 
school, and found their own shrill, screaming pipes, 
clanging cymbals, cracked drums, and coarse har-- 
monies, insufferable in comparison. Now, taken gene- 
rally, the humblest mechanic in England Is a more 
refined and intellectual being than the highest Turk, 
and it has, therefore, created no surprise in the mind 
of the writer to meet, as he frequently has done since 


112 


the somewhat remarkable improvement among the 
street musicians in London, with a crowd of working 
men paying eager attention to the pieces of Mozart dud 
other great masters, and declaring they could listen to 
such musig all the night long. 

The fault is not with the people. Good taste has been 
confined, by high prices, to the °* high places ;” though it 
has not always over-bounded there. ‘The theatres and 
other public places have administered to bad taste: little 
or nothing except trash has been open to the people ; and 
they have been deemed barbarians because they took what 
fell in their way, and showed no love for what they never 
had an opportunity of knowing. We trust, however, that, 
for the future, good music, like oood literature, may be 
made accessible to all ; and that, as a mode of enlarging 
the cheap enjoyments of a poor man’s hfe, even every 
village-school in the kingdom may possess the means of 
teaching i they are taught at similar establishments 
in several districts of Germany, in Bohenua, and even 
in the snow-covered, poverty- -stricken island of Iceland) 
the.art of reading musical notation and the first rudi- 
ments of music. Plain singing 1s what we should re- 
comniend for the schools of the poor. Vocal music is 
not only the most natural to man, but it is also the 
inost pleasant, and the easiest to be procured. ‘The 
effects that are to be obtained, particularly by children’s 
voices, are exquisite in the extreme. In the churches 
of Russia, where no instrumental. music is allowed, it 
is a common thing to hear the voices of hundreds of 
young : people who have been merely well drilled as to 
time. and tune, blending in indescribable harmony, and 
making an impression “that scar cely any other sort of 
music can equal. Indeed, according to the great com- 
poser, Haydn, the strongest musical impression he ever 
received, though his life was passed among music, was 
made on him by the charity-children, at their veneral 
assembly .in St. Paul’s Cathedral, singing all together a 
psalm to a plain melody. He said “he was so power- 
fully affected by this that he should remember it, and 
thrill at the remembrance, till death. 

Native. simplicity ought principally to be kept in 
mew. ‘* Vocal music,” said an eminent Italian critic, 
more than a hundred years ago, “ought to imitate the 
natural language of the human feelings and passions 
rather than the warbling of Canary birds which our 
singers now-a-days affect so vastly.to mimic with their 
quaverine's aud boasted cadences *.” - 


Dr ess and Cloths i inthe Thirteenth Century y. _The Writers 
of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries bitterly complain 
of the extravagance and luxury of dresses and fashious at 
that period. - As this has at all times afforded matter of 
satire and animadversion, such censures would not demand 
particular attention were their justice not established by 
particular statements.’ Matthew Paris states that at the 
marriage of the. eldest daughter of Henry III., with Alex- 
ander LIL. of Scotland, in 1251, the King of England was 
attended, on the day of the ceremonial, by a thousand 
knights, uniformly dressed in silk robes, and the next day 
the same knights appeared in new dresses no less ‘splendid 
and expensive ; ; and, in a following reign, it is stated that 
Sir John Arundel -had no fewer ‘than fifty-two complete 
suits of cloth of gold. This costly material, which is searcely 
now an article of European consumption, though in con- 
siderable use among the splendid barbarians of the East, is 
mentioned in one of the Close Rolls for 1244, when Edward, 
the son of Otho, is commanded to buy a cape of red silk, 
with a broad orfraies, well embroidered with gold, or to have 
one inade Jn all haste if he cannot find one to buy. In 1204, 
King John sends greeting to Reginald of Cornhill, directing 
him to allow the lady, the queen, his wife, to have a fur of 
meniver, a small brass pot, and eight towels, the cost of 
which shoul be repaid at the Exchequer. An order upon 
one tradesman for such different articles scems to indicate 
now much less trades were subdivided formerly than at 


* J, Abbate Gravina. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 22, 1834. 


present. In a Close Roll, dated November 2nd, 1252, 
Edward of Westminster is ordered to give directions, with- 
out delay, fora cloth: to be made twelve feet in length and 
six feet in breadth, the field to be studded with pearls, and 
on all parts of the cloth to be designs from the Old and New 
Testament. Philip Luvel is referred to for more particular 
directions, but .no intimation is given of the purpose for 
which this splendid cloth was intended. 





Cinnamon and Cassia.—These two words, which desig- 
nate different. qualities of the prepared bark of the cinna- 
mon-tree, are botl found in Exodus xxx., 23, 25. The 
cinnamon-tree is a native of a tropical climate, and the pre- 
pared bark was probably: conveyed to Palestine from the 
Oriental Archipelago, by means of Phoenician merchants, 
(Genesis Xxxxvil., 25.) Herodotus informs us, that the word 
hinnamon was adopted by the Greeks from the Phoenicians, 
and in all likelihood the Hebrew term kiznemon or kanam 
has a similar origin, ‘The country which produces an article 
of commerce very generally gives it the name which it 
obtains in other parts of the world; hence we must look to 
the language of a country which produces cinnamon for the 
origin of the terms that are employed to designate it by con- 
sumers. In the Malay language, cinuamon Is designated 
by the words kayee mantis (sweet wood), from which: the 
Hebrew and Greck names of this spice may have been de- 
rived, as the cinnamon-tree is found in great abundance in 
the Malay Islands. Kannema, signifying sweet wood, is 
the Malabar name of .this-spice. In the Persian Tanguage 
it is called kinnamon, and in some parts of India it is Known 
by the appellation of dar Chinie, which signifies the wood 
of China. Cinnamon was for a long time imported into 
Europe under the name of “ China wood.” ‘The’ Malay 
word kayee (wood) scems to have been the origin of the 
Hebrew word hiddah, which is translated cassta, and; the 
Latin term by which this quality of cinnamon is know nil 
commerce is cassta-lignea. In ancient times the. unpecled 
shoots or branches were conveyed to Europe, and sold wood 
and bark together; and hence, in all probability, is the 
origin of the adj unct “lignea.” Moses was directed 
(Exodus XXX., 23, 25) to take of myrrh, sweet cinnamon, 
sweet calamus, cassia, and olive oil, certain quantities; ind 
thereof to ‘‘ make an oil of. holy ointment, compound, alter 
the art of-the apothecary: it shall-be,an holy anointing oil.”’ 
How was the art of the apothecary: exercised i in preparing 
the holy ointment or oil? Perhaps it was prepared by a 
process similar to that which the natives of India have from 
time immemorial practised to prepare odoriferous oils. Tlic 
aromatic substances employed are coarsely ‘powdered. and 
put into an earthen vessel along with a certain quantity of 
fixed oil. Water, fully sufficient to cover the aromatics, is 
then added, and the vessel placed upon a. fire to boil. 
During the process of cbullition tle essential oil of the axo- 
matics unites with the fixed oil, by which means it is im- 
pregnated with the peculiar odour of the seeds, barks, or 
other substances employed. . Cinnamon is mentioned.in ‘the 
Song of So} mon, and in Proverbs, V1.3 and cassia in Kzckiel 
Xxvil., 19. The “ sweet cane,” mentioned in Isaiah xliii., 
24, and Jeremiah vi. 20, in all probability is only another 
designation of cinnamon.. Both passages imply an article 
of importation, and, therefore, not.of native growth. The 
cinnamon which is .imported from the peninsula of India, 
Sumatra, Java, &c., aud’ the inferior quality of cinnamon, 
which is exported from Ceylon, are known in commerce by 
the name of cassia. For example, in 1816 Messrs. Palmer 
and Co., Calcutta, purchased the “ rejected " cinnamon of the 
harvest of 1815. in Ceylon, which amounted to 34,672 lbs., 
for which they paid one sicca rupee two anas per Ib. (about 
two shillings): Under the denomination of vassia the above 
quantity of cinnamon was no doubt imported into the 
ports of Europe, as the purchasers were prohibited from 
exporting it from India as cinnamon. 





’ 


*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. : 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET 


Printed by Wittiam Clowes, Duke Street, Lambeth. 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 








PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[Marcu 29, 1834. 


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BartroLomro Kstesan Murituo, the most celebrated 
painter of the Spanish school, was born at or near 
Seville, in the year 1618. Having exhibited a very 
early inclination for the art, he was placed under the 
instruction of his unole, Juan del Castillo. The 
favourite subjects of this artist were fairs and markets ; 
and several pieces of this description were executed by 


Murillo previously to their separation, which took place | 


Vou. IN. 








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in consequence of the removal of the uncle to Cadiz. 
'The youth, being thus left to himself, was obliged to 
earn his subsistence by painting banners and smal] 
pictures for exportation to America. This sort of work 
did not, perhaps, advance him in the points most essen- 
tial; but, as he had full employment, he acquired 
facility, and began to distinguish himself as an able 
colourist. 
Q 


Me 3 


We know not how long Murillo continued thus to 
employ himself; but he was still very young when he 
happened to obtain a‘view of some works of Pedro de 
Moya, who was then passing through Seville on-his 
way to Cadiz. In the latter days of Vandyke's hie, 
De Moya had studied under hun, and lis pictures were 
painted in the style of that great artist, whom Murillo 
was thus inspired with a strong desire to imitate. ‘This 
circumstance gave a new impulse to his zeal, and, per- 
laps, redeemed him from employing all his life in 
painting the paltry articles required for the colonial 
niarket. From De Moya he received such instructions 
as the limited stay of that artist in Scville permitted ; 
and, from his conversation, Murillo probably imbibed 
the strong desire he afterwards felt of visiting Italy to 
improve himself by studying the works of the great 
masters. But his means were quite inadequate to meet 
the’ expenses of such a journey. <A strong desire for 
improvement is, however, not easily discouraged by 
difficulties; and the youth, collecting all his resources, 
bought a good quantity of canvass, which he divided 


into a number of small squares, upon which he painted 


flowers and subjects of devotion, and with the produce 
of the sale set out upon his Journey. 

On his arrival at Madrid, Murillo waited upon Velas- 
quez, his countryman, and communicated his plans to 
him. Velasquez was interested by the talents and zeal 
which the youth exhibited, and treated him with much 
kindness and consideration. Under the impression that 
the Escurial and the palaces at Madrid contained suffi- 
cient objects for useful study, this kind friend did not 
encourage Murillo’s desire of proceeding to.Italy. He 
ebtained for him opportunities of studying many works 
of Titian, Paul Veronese, Rubens, and Vandyke, which 
»xelonged to the king and nobles of Spain, and scveral 
of which were copied by the young artist under his 
superintendence and instruction. Spanish authors are 
apt to exult in the fact, that Murillo never went out 
of his own country for improvement, not snfheiently 
considering the obligations he was under to the many 
works of the great masters which Madrid contained. 
Without the assistance of the example’ afforded by his 


ereat predecessors, however original his genius, the 


painter could never have attained the rank in his art at 
which he ultimately arrived. 
Afier a stay of three years at Madrid, Murillo re- 


turned, in 1645, to Seville, with a mind enriched by. 


study, formed by practiee, and stored with the good 
counsels of Velasquez. At Seville his talents soon be- 
eame known and properly appreciated. He was em- 
ployed very shortly after his arrival to paint the little 
cloister of St. Francis; and the manner in which this 
work was executed filled his countrymen with astonish- 
ment and admiration. His picture of the Death of 


Santa Clara and that of St. James distributing Alms_ 


crowned his reputation. In the first he appeared equal 
to Vandyke as a eolourist; and, in the second, a rival 
of Velasquez. They obtained him a multitude of com- 
missions, which soon produced him a fortune more than 
independent. Murillo was one of those happy men 
whom success cannot spoil or injure. He never beeame 
careless. Ife gradually perfected his mauner by giving 
more boldness to his pencil, without abandoning that 
sweetness of eolouring which distinguished him from 
all his rivals. During his long life he was constantly 
employed, and enriched the ehurches of Sevillc, and 
other cities in the south of Spain, with numerous works. 
Having been invited to Cadiz to paint the grand altar 
of the Capuchins, he there exccuted his famous picture 
of the Marriage of St. Catherine. While employed on 
this picturc, and when it was nearly completed, he met 
with an accident of which he continued to feel the 
effects until his death, which took place at Seville, in 
ESOT Loe 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


. misery. 


[Marci 29, 


The works of Murillo afford proof of the excellence to 
which the Spanish school had attained, and the real 
character of its artists; for although he profited by 
studying the works of foreign masters, he was not their 
imitator. His style was pecuharly his own. He 
copied his objects from nature, but combined them 
ideally, His back-grounds are generally confused and 
indistinct, and the parts very much blended together 
with a loose pencil and indeterminate execution; but 
most of them have a very pleasing effect, and perhaps 
the principal objects acquire a portion of their finish 
and beauty from this very cireumstance. ‘To the 
ercatest merit as an historical paintcr, Murillo joined 
equal excellence in flowers and landscape. But perhaps 
it is in small pictures of familiar life, such as that from 
which our wood-cut is taken, that this emiment artist 
most completcly succceded. Many of his altar-pieces 
are very large, some of them sixteen or eighteen feet 
high, and contaming an immense number of figures, as 
is required by such subjects as Christ feedine the 
multitude, St. John preaching, St. James distributing 
alms, &c. But in such pictures, skilfully wrought as 
they are, he does not appear to have penetrated the 
secret of grandeur of style. ‘The expression is often of 
a mean eharaeter in the most dignified personages 
but in the amiable and tender sentiments, which are 
expressed by the silent action of the human features, he 
was eminently successful. By the originality of his 
tafent, Murillo claims rank among the first painters of 
every sehool. We do not find in him the dignity of 
Raphael, the grandeur of Caracci, nor the grace of 
Correggio; but, as an imitator of nature, if he 1s some- 
times trivial and incorrect, he is always true,—always 
natural; and, in the sweetness, brilliancy, harmony, and 
freshness of his colouring, all his defects are forgotten. 

We must here observe that at different periods the 
style of Murillo was of two different charaeters. The 
first distinguished for its energetic and living truth ; 
the second for its softness, gentleness, and brilliancy of 
chiaro-scuro, though still combined with great truth 
of expression. 

The picture of which in the foregoing page we 
have given a copy, was in the ancient royal collection 
at Versailles. It is called the ‘* Young Beggar,” and 
was four feet one inch in height, by three feet three 
inches in width. It is painted in his first style. The 
description in the splendid national work called the 
‘ Musée Francais,’ from which we have copied our en- 
graving, says :—‘‘ We must not examine the design of 
this picture with too mueh rigour. ‘The subjeet may 
induce us to pardon some slight inaccuracies: it is the 
simplicity of the attitude; the relief given to the figure, 
the brilhancy of the Hght, the firmness of the touch, 
the vigour of the general tone, which render it a 
chef-d’euvre. The head and all the naked parts are 
full of life. In the ragged clothes, which only half 
eover the body, the toueh is bold and broad: in the 
flesh of the knees, legs, and feet, the careful artist has, 
on the contrary, expressed the most riinute details. 
‘Fhe roughness of the skin attests the idJeness of this 
unhappy child; his morals are in some measure written 
upon the squalidness of his limbs. We sce that the 
healthy wave never refreshes them. Such were.in effect 
the habits of this proud, magnanimous, and indolent 
nation whom Providence had loaded with its favours, 
and whose institutions have rendered the greater part 
of these benefits useless—who consume much and 
labour little—and amongst whom so many wretches 
find this state of idleness the ‘consolation of their 
Some fruit in an old basket, an earthen 
pitcher, a few shrimps scattered on the ground, are the 
preparations or remains of a frneal repast. Every 





‘object is painted with as much art as the figure. The- 
| whole produces the most perfect illusion.” 


‘ 1834, ] : 


Four fine pictures of this artist were “ given,” by the 
city of Seville, to Marshal Soult, who made a present of 
them to Louis XVIJI., in 1814; but they were among 
those works of art, the restitution of which was de- 
nanded by the Allies in ISLo9. 





Gray the Poet.—The predominant bias of Gray's mind, 
says Mathias, was a strong attachment to virtue, to “ the 
exercise of right reason,” as he used to call it, in the words 
of Plato; and if any man were melitioned to him as a man 
of ability, of genius, or of science, he always inquired, “ Is 
he good for anything?” No admiration of genius, no 
deference to learning, could subdue or even soften his aver- 
sion to the vicious, to the profligate, and the unprincipled. 


HOMCGOPATHY. 


Turs singular name is the representative of as singular 
1 theory. Dr. Hahnemann, its inventor, supposes that 
diseases are to be cured by those remedies which would 
cause the same diseases in healthy persons; provided 
that these remedies are given in doses as minute as 
possible. This paradoxical system derives its name 
from the similarity of the medicine to the disease ; 
homoion signifying in Greek the same, and pathos a 
symptom. Dr. Hahnemann, who is a German, has 
written several elaborate works in defence of his 
ingenious theory; one of them is called * Organon der 
Heilkunst,—Organon of the Healing Art,—and was 
printed at Dresden in 1824. We shall give a brief 
:otion of his mode of reasoning. 

The author observes that, from the remotest times, 
physicians, and even the vulgar, have had some glimpses 
of the true system,—the real art of healing. ‘Thus, in 
the book on Epidemic Diseases, which is attributed to 
Hippocrates, a case of cholera is mentioned which was 
cured by hellebore, a substance which is capable of 
causing cholera. The sweating-sickness raged in the 
fifteenth century, with unchecked fatality, until su- 
dorifics were administered; after which, as Sennert 
observes, but few died. ‘“‘ How could musk,” exclaims 
Dr. Hahnemann, “ be almost a specific in the spas- 
modie asthma, if it were not that musk can itself cause 
paroxysms of suifocating tightness of the chest?” 
Again, it is by its homeopathic virtue that the cow-pox 
prevents the occurrence of small-pox, for the symptoms 
of the two diseases are similar; but, from the mildness 
of the’ cow-pox, it’ is unablé to rémove the antagonist 
disease if it already has possession of the human fraine, 
and can therefore act only as a preventive. ‘This 
method of curing beforehand.is possible in a few other 
cases’; for instance, wearing sulphur in their clothes will 
secure workers in wool against the kind of itch to which 
they are subject ; and an infinitely small dose of bella- 
donna (deadly nightshade) is a preventive of scarlatinz 
when it rages epidemically, and excites upon the skin a 
scarlet eruption, somewhat resembling that of the dis- 
ease which it scares away. : 

Wor has the true system been utterly unknown in 
domestic practice. Thus it is the custom to rub frozen 
limbs with snow, and (in Germany) to lay frozen sour- 
crout upon them. The cook, too, who has had the 
misfortune to scald his hand. with boiling sauce, holds 
it near the fire, regardless of the temporary increase of 
suffering ; for he well knows that, in a short time, per- 
haps in a few minutes, the burnt place will be sound 
and free from pain. Dr. Kentish, who practised among 
ininers, and had numerous opportunities of treating 
burns, found that they did best when stimulated with 
turpentine and spirits-of-wine. John Bell gives a case 
of a lady whom he attended, who had sealded both her 

arms; one was moistened with spirits of turpentine 
and the other put into cold water. ‘The former was 
cured in half an hour, but the gther one continued 1 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


L15 


pain for six hours; for as soon as it was taken out of 
the water the pain was renewed. 

But besides these cases, in which the practice was 
right, some physicians had a slight conception of the 
true theory. Thus the author of one of the books 
ascribed to Hippocrates remarks, that, by vomiting, 
vomiting is made to cease. Detharding made out that 
senna-tea cures colic by its power of exciting colic in 
the healthy; and Bouldue saw that rhubarb cured 
‘diarrhoea by means of its purgative quality. Stoerck 
asks whether, since Stramonium (thorn-apple) pro- 
duces delirium in the healthy, it woul@ not be worth 
trying if it will restore the senses of the delirious? But 
Stahl, a Danish regimental physician, speaks out his 
sentiments on this subject in the clearest manner, and 
observes, that the common rule of curing diseases by 
remedies of an opposite kind is totally erroneous ; and 
that he is convinced that diseases yield to remedies 
which produce a similar malady; thus burns are to be 
cured by approaching the fire,—frozen limbs to be 
treated with the application of snow and the coldest 
water,—inflammation and contusions with spirits; and 
he had cured acidity of the stomach with a very small 
dose of sulphuric acid, in cases where a multitude of 
absorbent powders had been used in vain. 

Dr. Hahnemann observes that others had been near 
the great truth. To us it appears that Stan] had 
altogether discovered the great truth, if it is one; but 
that to Hahnemann we must give praise for the un- 
wearied zeal with which he has disseminated his prin- 
ciples for more than thirty years. 

By these, and a thousand other instances of the same 
kind, Dr. Hahnemann proves the truth of the first 
principle of homceopathy ; and as it is an established law 
of nature, he thinks it unnecessary to waste time by 
hypothetical explanations of it: yet he supposes it pos- 
sible that the artificial disease, which expels the original 
one, may be more easily driven out by the vital powers 
than its predecessor. All that is required, therefore, to 
cure’ a disease is to find a similar remedy, and _ to 
administer it in such a dose as shall cause an extremely 
slight and temporary aggravation of the symptoms; the 
slichter the better; and hence, the smaller the dose of 
the remedy, the better, provided this slight aggravation 
takes place. Hence, in homeopathic practice, it 1s not 
uncommon to hear of such a dose as the millionth, the 
trilliouth, or even the decillionth of a grain™. If we 
were asked our opinion as to-the truth of this curious 
and ingenious theory, we should say, that we have no 
doubt that people get well after these infinitely small 
doses, though we doubt very much if they get well by 
means of them; and we think the great value of 
homeopathy to consist in its demonstrating that dis- 
eases may be cured by regimen and repose, which not 
merely the opinion of the vulgar, but the common run 
of practitioners, would condemn to long courses of 
medicine. 

Since the above was written, it has been stated in 
the ‘ London Medical and Surgical Gazette,’ that the 
homeopathic system has received a severe blow at 
Vienna. ‘The physicians practising according to this 
doctrine have been visited by the police, the medicines 
have been seized, and the whole of the homocpathic 
pharmacy has been suppressed. Many of the inhabi- 
tants, favourable to this mode of practice, have, however, 
determined upon petitioning the emperor, that they 
may be permitted to live and die homoopathically. 


* The following explanation may be useful to some persons >— 

a million multiplied by a million is called a billion, and is written 

-thus,—1,000,000,000,000, or, more shortly, thus,—(1,000,000)° : 
this product again multiplied by a million is called a trillion, and 

written thus,—(1,0003000)°; and a milliou raised to the tenth 

power is called a decillion, and written thus,—( 1,000,000) °; a 


| 
| decillionth would therefore be written anus, —( 5 apoeun)”” 
@ 2 


116 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


(Marcu 29, 


SOME ACCOUNT OF THE CACAO TREE AND ITS PRODUCTS. 


{From a Gorrespondent.]} 


If ERS 
Fas, 
yr . 
= Ts 
5 ie 


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MR 8 Se ey ee eee 


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Tit, om, 
4 


it 9 thee ie Ms Pa ser ten erg; 
COE te ee 
aS OY, lg Sr a € x any! 
Bi sakos 2, ra? CLP se ; 


{ Cacao Tree. | 


Cacao-Beans, from which chocoiate is made, and 
which, prepared in lumps or cakes, or in powder, 1s 
sold in the shops under the name of cocoa, are the 
seeds of the Theobroma cacao of botanists. ‘This tree 
erows to the height of fifteen or sixteen feet. The 
fruit (see the wood-cut) resembles a cucumber, and 
is commonly about three inches in diameter. It 1s 
smooth on the outside, and has a yellowish red colour. 
The seeds are known to be ripe by their rattling when 
the capsule is shaken. ‘The cacao-tree bears leaves, 
flowers, and fruit all'the year through. It is a native 
of the tropical regions of America, where it is largely 
cultivated; and it is also cultivated in many of the 
West India Islands. 

Cacao-beans are frequently misnamed cocoa-nuts, 
by which means they are confounded with coco-nuts 
(cocos nucifera), a fruit which is often mis-spelled 
cocoa-nuts. On account of these mistakes in the 
spelling of the fruits of the two trees, many persons 
suppose that the manufactured seeds of the cacao-tree, 
or chocolate, is the produce of cocoa-nuts. 


The cacao-tree was cultivated by the aboriginal 


inhabitants of America long before it was discovered 
by Columbus. ‘They made a beverage of the seeds, 
but authorities are divided in regard to how it was 
prepared. From time immemorial the seeds have been 
employed as money'in some parts of America, Choco- 


late seems to have been first manufactured in Mexico, 
and the Creole ladies were for a long time so fond of 
the beverage that it was habitually served to them even 
in church-by their slaves. 

Chocolate is manufactured in the following manner: 
-—the cacao-beans are carefully examined, and the 
sound and good only selected. They are then dried, 
and the shells removed. The kerneis are then sub- 
mitted to the fire for the purpose of being roasted. 
This operation being finished, the seeds are bruised 
upon a hot stone until they form an oily paste. ‘The 
requisite quantities of sugar and _ spices,—generally 
finely-powdered cinnamon and vanilla,—are then added. 
When the mixture is formed into a homogeneous com- 
pound, it is put into polished iron moulds, of different 
sizes. In the manufacture of chocolate, various nutri- 
tive substances are sometimes used, such as salop, 
arrow-root, tapioca, &c., and some manufacturers have 
the art of wiving it the odour of coffee. - It is said that 
imported chocolate is sometimes adulterated with flour 
and Castile soap. Cacao-paste, the produce of, and 
imported from, a British possession, pays a duty of 4d. 
per lb. upon importation : in 1830 it was Is. 9d. per Ib. 

Cacao-beans, after being dried, or partially roasted, 
shelled, and ground in a mill, are beginning to be 
much used in this country. ‘T'wo table spoonsful of the 


powder may be added to » pint and a half of millk-and- 


1834. ] 


water; after boiling, let the pot simmer over the fire 
for about ten minutes, when the beverage will be fit 
for use. Sugar and milk are to be added ‘as required. 
Cacao-beans, imported from a British possession, pay a 


custom duty of 2d. per lb., formerly it was 6d. per lb. 


| | 


H] 
t 
i 
' 
{! 


— 
— 


4 
ae 





[Fruit of the Cacao-Tree. } 


The thin pellicle or shell that covers the beans, and 
which is separated before they are ground or powdered, 
contaius a considerable quantity of mucilage, and the 
bitter principle of the cacao. Some persons prefer a 
beverage made from the shells to a preparation made 
from the beans. The shells are said to be greatly 
employed as a substitute for the beans in Switzerland, 
Belgium, and Ireland. ‘They are charged au import 
duty of Id. per Ib. : 


_—— — = 
—=—--—-a 


= a oi i en: 2 
—s=-ee 
. — 








it! 


am 





(a, Cacao-bean; b, Transverse Section of the Fruil.] 


POETS IN PERSIA. 
———“ Who now 
Enters the chamber, flourishing a scroll 
In his right hand, his left, at every step, 
Brushing the floor with what was once a hat 
Orceremony * * * 

At length arrived, and with a shrug that pleads 
‘Tis my necessity !’ he stops and speaks, 
Screwiny a smile into his dinnerless face : 

‘ { am a poet, Signor :—give me leave 
To bid you welcome. Though you shrink from notice, 
The splendour of your name has gone before you; 
And Italy, from sea to sea, rejoices, 
As well, indeed, she may! But I transgress. 
I, too, have known the weight of praise, and ought 
To spare another.’ 

Saying so, he laid 
Ifis sonnet, an impromptu, on my table, 
And bowed and left me; in his hollow hand 
Receiving a small tribute.” | Rogers. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


STS CR TED te EES A Se UE, 


-so florid amone 


117 


In thus graphically describing a scene in Italy,—the 
most poetical nation of Europe,—the poet has, un- 
consciously, described with equal truth a scene of fre- 
quent occurrence in Persia,—the most poetical of the 
Kast. The whole kingdom is inundated with such 
poetical mendicants, who lie in wait, not only for the 
public functionaries and wealthy men of their own 
country, but for all strangers whose rank and appearance 
afford them ground to hope the least recompense for 
their lays. The latter are their especial prey ; and the 
stranger, who may be at first amused, is soon annoyed 
and irritated at the frequency of such attacks on_ his 
purse, and the amazing perseverance of the assailants, 
whom no professed ignorance of the language, and no 
expression of dislike for such productions, can discourage, 
and whom one success only stimulates to further at- 
tempts. In his ‘ History of Persia,’ (a2 work of which 
we make considerable use in preparing: this article,) 
sir John Malcolm states, that a poet of this class came 
fifty miles from Shiraz to welcome him with a compli- 
mentary ode, beautifully written upon ornamented paper. 

The existence of such a number of poetasters has been 
generally preceded by the creation of good poetry, and 
by a general diffusion of poetical taste. Of few nations is 
this more true than the Persian. Almost the only poets 
of high name in the East were Persians, and their verses 
are as household words from the palace of the king to the 
cabin of the peasant. Indeed, common conversation is 
so profusely interlarded with poetical quotations, that 
the effect would be nauseous were it not for the un- 
affected felicity with which they are usually introduced ; 
aud were it not that the usual style of conversation is 


o@ the Persians as to-weaken, if not 


‘destroy, the line of demarcation between conversational] 
‘and poetical expression, which most other languages 


exhibit. 

_A certain measure of education is obtained with much 
facility in the principal cities of Persia; and if a young 
man prefers a life of indolence to one of active industry, 


‘the respect in which the character of a poet is held 


strongly tempts him to assume the name: 

“ A few fortunate votaries of the muses enjoy the 
smiles of fortune, but the great majority of poets here, 
as in other countries, are.poor. While some favoured 
poets are chaunting the wonderful deeds of the king, 
or of the principal chiefs, or composing ‘ dewans,’ or 
collections of odes on the mystical subject of divine 
love; others are contented with panegyrizing the 
virtues, wisdom, bravery, and discernment of all who 
bestow their bounty upon them, or allow them to par- 
take of the good things of their table. ‘They also make 
epigrams to amuse their patrons, and are alike ready to 
recite their own verses or to quote the finest passages 
of the national poetry.” —Malcolm. 

The most distinguished Persian poets are Firdousee 
and Nizamee as epic poets; Sadi in didactic composi- 
tion, and Hazif, Jami, Rudiki, Anveri, in lyrical and 
mystical verse. I*or this last species of poetry the 
Persians have an especial relish, and it is much more 
cultivated at present than any other. There are some 
pointed epigrams, but no such thing as a regular satire 
in the language. The freedom of observation and of 
expression essential to this class of compositions would 
not be tolerated in such a state of society and govern- 
ment as exists in Persia; and the most, therefore, that 
has been attempted is to convey some satirical allusion 
under the cover of a fable or apologue. The severer 
taste of Europeans is offended by the redundance of 
ornament which the Persian poetry exhibits. It is 
characterized rather by richness of fancy than by vigonr 
or tenderness of feeling, and it is almost completely 
destitute of those forcible or delicate touches by which 
master hands can strike and awaken untouched chords in 
the human heart, 


1is 


From this excess of ornament and inflation of style, 
which may be regarded not only as the besetting sin 
but as the characteristic of Persian poetry, there is no 
Eastern poet more exempt than Firdousee, in whose 
ereat work, the ‘ Shah-Nameh,’ the most fastidious 
Huropean reader meets with passages of exquisite 
beauty and tenderness, which even the depraved taste 
of the Persians can relish, although they consider his 
peculiar excellence to he in the description of battles. 

As the author of this celebrated work occupies the 
first place among Persian poets, and may, in many 
respects, be compared to our own Spenser, we imagine 
that a short account of him may not be uninteresting 
to the general reader. For the means of supplying 
this we are indebted chiefly to the introduction prefixed 
to Mr. Atkinson’s translation of the ‘ Soohrab,’ an 
episode in Firdousee’s ereat work the * Shah-Nameh,’ 
or Book of Kings. 

Mahmood, Sultan of Ghizni, the famous conqueror 
of India, began to reign about the year 977. ‘Lhis 
prince to his other glories added that of being a very 
munificent patron of literature, and his court was, con- 
sequently, the resort of distinguished men from various 
parts of his widely extended empire. ‘Lhe idea once 
occurred: to him of having a history of the kings of 
Persia, from the earliest times to his own, prepared in 
verse. In order to ascertain the respective merits of 
the various competitors for this employment, the king 
selected seven romantic episodes from an old chronicle, 
a copy of which had lately been discovered, and de- 
livered them to seven of the principal poets at his court 
to be composed in verse. Unsuree, to whom the 
beautiful story of Roostem and Soohrab was allotted, 
performed his part so much to the satisfaction of Mah- 
mood that he was engaged to arrange the whole in 
verse. 

Firdousée was at that time at Musheed, his native 
city, employing himself with equal diligence and success 
in the cultivation of his poetical talents. Having heard 
of the determination of the king, he succeeded in ob- 
taining a copy of the clironicle, and, applying himself 
with great zeal to the task, he soon produced a splendid 
description of a battle, which still forms a much admired 
passage of the ‘ Shah-Nameh.’ This performance was 
so generally read, and so much talked of, that it was 
not long before the sultan heard of his merits, and 
immediately sent him an earnest invitation to his court. 
The poet went; and soon after his arrival executed 
another battle-story, which Mahmood read with admi- 
ration and delight, and, without hesitating a moment, 
assigned to hin the projected undertaking. He also 
ordered his chief minister to pay him a _ thousand 
miskals for every thousand distichs, and, at the same 
time, bestowed upon him the name of Firdousee*, 
** because he had diffused over his court the delights of 
Paradise.” It is pleasing to add, that Unsuree liberally 
acknowledged the superiority of his great rival’s genius, 
and resigned the undertaking to him without a murmur. 

The vizier, in compliance with the injunctions of the 
sultan, offered to pay the sums as the work proceeded ; 
but the poet preferred waiting until the completion of 
his engagement, in the hope that the large amount 
which would then be due to him, would afford him the 
means of gratifying a wish he had long indulged, of 
doing something of importance for the benefit of his 
native city. But it appears that Firdousee wanted that 
pliancy of disposition and dependency of spirit which the 
atmosphere of an Eastern court requires. With a man 
of this character, the proud and narrow-minded, though 
able, Vizier, soon became offended, and exerted himself 
to destroy his credit. Several passages in his poems 
were extracted and invidiously commented upon as con- 


* “Firdousee” signifies Paradise, We are not aware that his 
preyzqus name is known. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Marcu 29, 


taining sentiments adverse to the true faith; and were 
allered to convict him of being an impious philosopher, 
a schismatic, aud a follower of Ali. The petty malice 
of the minister was probably not without effeet within 
the limits of the court; but beyond, it was powerless. 
The poet rose in the ‘public esteem. The progress of 
the splendid national monument he was erecting was 
watched with admiration; and presents poured in upon 
lim from every quarter. ‘The composition of 60,000 
couplets appears to have occupied Firdousee for thirty 
years. On its completion, the sultan, who was fully 
sensible of the importance and value of the perfor- 
mance, and proud of the renown which his own con- 
nexion with it promised, ordered, as it is said, an 
elephant-load of @old to be sent to the author. But 
this munificent recompense, which only the spoiler of 
India could have afforded, was intercepted by the ma- 
lignant minister, who sent to the poet instead 60,009 
silver dirhems*. Firdousee was in the public bath when 
the money was brought to him; and, on opening the 
bags, and finding that they contained only silver, he 
was so greatly enraged at the insult that, to testify his 
scorn, he divided the whole sum, on the spot, between 
the keeper of the bath, the vender of refreshments, and 
the slave who had brought it. ‘“* The sultan shall 
know, he ‘exclaimed, “that I have not bestowed the 
labour of thirty years on a work to be rewarded with 
dirhems.” 

When the king became acquainted with this circum- 
stance, he was much exasperated at the conduct of the 
vizier; but that Ingemious person had so much adroit- 
licss, and so much influence with Mahmood, that he 
succeeded not only in exculpating himself, but in trans- 
ferring all the blame to the poet, who was also charged 
with insulting and disrespectful behaviour towards his 
sovereign and benefactor. Mahmood, thus stimulated 
to personal resentment, and not questioning the veracity 
of the minister, issued an order that Firdousee should, 
on the following morning, be trampled to death under 
the feet of an elephant. The unhappy poet, when he 
heard of this order, hurried, in the utmost consternation, 
to the royal presence, and,: falling at the feet of the 
sultan, begged for mercy, at the same time pronouncing 
an elegant eulogium on the glories of Mahmood’s 
reign and the eenerosity of his heart. ‘That heart was 
touched by the poet’s agitation and softened by his 
praise, and the order for his execution was recalled. 

But the wound thus inflicted was too deep to be 
borne without a murmur. fF irdousee went home, and, 
under the existing impulse of his feelings, penned a 
satire on the sultan, which is still extant, and is only 
remarkable as showing the bitterness of his resentment, 
and the keenness with which he felt the injustice and 
neglect with wlich he had been treated. He instantly 
fled from the city and hastened to Bag@dad, where he 
received the most honourable reception and entertain- 
ment from the Caliph Ul Kadur Billah, in’ whose 
palace he added 1000 couplets to the * Shah-Namebh,’ 
for which he was rewarded with a rebe of honour and 
60,000 deenars. i z 

Meanwhile, the Sultan of Ghizni had discovered that 
his reputation as a patron of literature had been com- 
promised by the conduct of his minister, whom he, 
therefore, dismissed from his office and banished from 
the court. Being then anxious to make all the repa- 
ration in his. power tor the injustice of which he had 
been guilty, he forwarded to Bagdad a present of 
60,000 deenarsf, aud a robe of state, accompanied by 
apologies for his former conduct. But this atonement 
came too late to benetit its object. Firdousee had re- 
moved to his native city, and had recently died there 
when the money and the robe arrived 


* Equal to 13752. The sum due, at 1000 miskals for 1000 
couplets, was 30,9572, Tt Egual to 27,5004, 


1834.] 


This is the amount of all that is now known of the 
author of the ‘ Shah-Nameh ;’ and it has an interest 
beyond that which it possesses as the memoir of an 
individual, from the accurate view it affords of the 
position which a man of genius, from the earliest times 
until now, has been found to occupy under the despots 
of the East, and the influence of which on Oriental 
literature it would be interesting to trace. ‘Lhe history 
of Firdousee is, in its outlines, the general history of 
men of letters in Asia; and, viewing it thus, we have 
been led so to extend the notice as to preclude ourselves 
from the present mention of severai particulars on the 
eeneral subject which we had intended to state. 


Local Attachment.—In the remote village of Petit Bor- 
nand, in a wild vailey above Bonneville, is a very valuable 
painting by Guido, of our Saviour’s removal from the cross. 
A native of this place lived many years at Rome in the 
service of a cardinal; at last, becoming old, he wished to 
return and end his days in the land of his fathers. The 
cardinal gave him his leave; adding, that, in reward for his 


long and faithful services, he wished him to choose out of’ 


his palace any one article he might wish to take away with 
him. The domestic said he should choose the painting of 
the “ Removal from the Cross,’ which he had often looked 
at in the cardinal’s gallery, as he wished to give it to the 
church of his native village. The cardinal was unprepared 
{cr this request ; however, as he had promised, he allowed 
his servant to take the painting away. This circumstance 
was honourable to both. 


The Grey Parrot.—The grey parrot, like many others of 


its tribe, often lives to a great age, and we are told of indi- 
viduals attaining to 50, 60, or even 100 years. According 
to Le Vaillant, one which lived in the family of Mr. Meninck 
Fuyser, at Amsterdam, for 32 years, had previously passed 
41 with that gentleman’s uncle, who bequeathed it to his 
nephew; and there can be little doubt that it must have 
been at least 2 or 3 years old at the time of its arrival in 
Europe. When Le Vaillant saw it, the bird was in a state 
of complete decrepitude; and, having lost its sight and 
memory, had lapsed mto a sort of lethargic condition, and 
was fed at intervals with biscuit dipped in Madeira. In the 
days of its vigour it used to speak with great distinctness, 
repeat many sentences, fetch its master’s slippers, call the 
servants, &c. At the age of 60, its memory began to fail, 
and instead of acquirmg any new phrases, it began very 
perceptibly to lose those which it had learned, and to 
intermix, in a discordant manner, the words of its former 
language. Jt moulted regularly once a year, till the age 
of 65, when the red feathers of the tail were supplied by 
yellow ones, after which no other change of plumage took 
place. 


THE ARGAND LAMP. 

Excertine the essential articles of food and shelter, 
there is perhaps scarcely anything more necessary to 
our comfort than artificial light. Without its aid, a 
considerable portion of time in the climates inhabited 
by civilized men must be wasted in idleness; and 
although the privation might not be felt by the listless 
dwellers in the torrid zone, to us who live in the 
revion of unequal days and nights, the want of it 
would operate as a check upon improvement, and a 
oreat bar to the provision of the necessaries of life. 

In the earliest ages of the world, and in the beautiful 
climate of “‘ the cradle of mankind,” artificial light 
would only occasionally be useful; but as the human 
race spread itself into ruder climes, its necessity 
became apparent. At first, the fires which were 
kindled for warmth would supply sufficient heht for 
such occupations as were then followed: the more 
inflammable matters, such as resinous woods and 
bituminous earths, were soon found to give more light 
and to be more portable than the masses of fuel used in 
heating dwellings. The resinous wood gradually be- 
came a torch, or candle, and was wrapped in rags 
dipped in oil or fat, or covered with pitch or other 
exudation from pine-trees. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


such torches were in use| one. 


119 


| among the Romans, as appears from the expressions 
'* pinea taeda” and “‘piceum lumen,” so familiar to 
readers of ancient authors. 

As soon as vessels were constructed capable of con- 
taining oil, the rags or strings of cotton, flax or tow, 
which had helped to make the torch, would now be 
more conveniently burned on the surface of the oil: the 
necessity of some contrivance to fix this wick to some 
one part of the vessel would soon be apparent, and thus 
the lamp was formed, such as we see it in Egyptian, 
Ktruscan, Greek and Roman sculptures and paintings, 
and as it remained almost without improvement to our 
own times. ‘Uhe most exquisite taste was developed in 
the construction of these lamps, and, as far as beauty is 
concerned, nothing could possibly be desired. 

We give at the end of this article a representation 
of two of these lamps, which were found in the ruins of 
Pompeii, and of which the following description is 
taken from the volumes upon that long buried city in 
the ‘ Library of Entertaining Knowledge.’ ‘ Of the 
two candelabra here given one is of the simplest form 
the other deserves notice on account of the ingenious 
construction by which it can be taken to pieces for the 
convenience of transport. ‘The base is formed of three 
goats’ legs, each having a ring at the end, and a ring 
on each side. ‘The centre piece is attached to thie side 
pieces by rivets, 3, 4, round which these rings are 
allowed to turn, so that the three either he parallel 
when the candelabrum is taken to pieces, or miay be 
made to stand at equal distances in the circumference 
of a circle, in which case the two exterior rings lap over 
each other, and are united by a moveable pin. ‘The 
end rings, 5, 5, 5, which are placed at different heights, 
as shown at f#, will then be brought into the same 
vertical line; and the round pin, ©, which terminates 
the stem, passes through them, and 1s secured by a pin, 
7, passing through the hole, 8, which keeps the whole 
ticht. The shaft is square and hollow, terminated by 
two busts, placed back to back, and surmounted with a 
kind of capital. Within this a smaller shaft, e, plays 
up and down, and is adjusted at the desired height by 
a pin, f. The busts represent Mercury and Perseus.” 

But in all these lamps the principle of the burner was 
the same: and although many ingenious contrivances 
were adapted to this part, they all had in view the equable 
flow of oil to the wick, or the maintenance of the oil at the 
same height, with scarcely an attempt to remedy the most 
important defects,—the want of a full supply of air to 
the flame. This alteration was proposed and perfected 
by M. Argand, a citizen of Geneva, about fifty years 
ago. In order to understand fully the nature of the 
improvement effected by him, it must be remembered 
that a plentiful supply of air is necessary to the exist- 
ence of flame. A small wick produces of course a small 
flame; but, in consequence of that smallness, almost 
every particle of the flame is in contact with the air, 
and the light is very brilliant. By increasing the size 
of the wick, the flame is enlarged; but then the interior 
portion, which is deprived of air, is but impertectly in- 
flamed; the light is in consequence brown and dull, 
and much of the oil burned passes off in smoke without 
being inflamed at all. ‘Ihe only mode found of increas- 
ing the body of flame, without destroying its brilliancy, 
was by increasing the nuinber of little wicks, which 
were placed side by side in aline. This produced a 
eood light, but it was unsightly and troublesome to 
arrauge, and by no means so brilliant as might be 
expected from the same quantity of light in a compact 
form. It occurred to Argand that if this line of wicks 
could be placed in a circle, and a current of air admitted 
through the interior of the circle, while the outside air 
was applied to the external surface, the power of a large 
wick would be obtained with all the brilliancy of a small 

This was effected in the following manner: A 


120 


small tube, about three mches long and half an inch 


in diameter, was soldered at one end, withinside another 


tube of the same length, but double the size, leaving a 
space between the two, open at one end and closed at 
tle other. A wick was formed by a piece of cotton 
woven round without a seain, and fixed to a brass ring 


fitted to the space between the two tubes, and raised or 


depressed by a worm or groove cut in the inner tube, 
or by a rack and pinion. The oil was admitted to the 
wick by a pipe connected with a reservoir, and passing 
through the outer tube. ‘Thus was formed a ring of 
light, but the lamp did not at first answer the expecta- 
tion of the inventor: the light was not brilhant in pro- 
portion to its size, and could not be got to rise much 
above the wick. Every attempt to increase its height 
by a more copious flow of oil, or by raising the wick, 
only produced a volume.of smoke. This defect would 
have been fatal had not accident discovered a remedy. 
This was the elass chimney, which, by increasing the 
current of air, produced a complete combustion of oil, 
and as great a light as could possibly be derived from 
the quantity consumed. ‘This accidental discovery is 
thus related by the younger brother of Argand, who 
hit upon the glass chimney :—‘‘ My brother had long 
been trying to bring his lamp to bear. <A broken-off 
neck of a flask lying upon the chimney-piece, I hap- 
pened to reach it over to the table, and’ to place it 
over the circular flame of the lamp: immediately it rose 
with brilliaiicy. My brother started from his seat with 
ecstasy, rushed upon me in a transport of joy, and em- 
braced me with rapture.” Thus was the Argand lemp 
formed; the most important improvement discovered in 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





{Marcu 29, 1834. 


artificial light before the introduction of gas, and which 
has not since been improved upon. More convenient 
arrangements have been made to supply oil, more 
elexant forms have been adopted, and all unnecessary 
shadows obviated, but the burner remains essentially 
the same as Argand formed it. 

This invention received almost immediately the sup- 
port to which so useful a discovery was entitled. ‘The 
Argand lamp was adopted by all to whom a good and 
steady light was desirable. Persons engaged in deli- 
cate operations requiring much light, as engravers, 
watchmakers, &c., and who had hitherto been com- 
pelled to suspend their occupation at the approach ot 
twilight, could now work by night as well-as by day. 
The- experimental chemist, too, was put in possession 
of a powerful aid in the prosecution of his investiga- 
tions by the use of this lamp, which gave a consider- 
able and easily graduated heat, much more manageable 
than that of any furnace that could: be constructed. 

’ Several plans have been devised for comparing the 
intensity of different lights, but the best seems to be thie 
following :—I*ix a large piece of pasteboard, with a 
small hole in it; about a foot and a half from a white 
wall, and let the two lights to be compared stand upon 
a table at some distance from each other, so that the 
licht from each may cast a bright spot upon’ the wall 
through the hole in the pasteboard. Let the brightest 
light be moved from ihe wall until both the spots ac- 


quire the same intensity: then measure the distance of 


both lights from the wall, square the distance, and the 
result will be the proportionate quantity of light given 
by each. | 7 


{Candelabra found at Pompeii.] 


*" The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn@Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
Printed byg}Viun1Am Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


Monthly Supplement of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





128.1] February 28, to March 31, 1834. 











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[ Portrait of Hogarth, painted by himself, in the National Gallery.] 
Wuo has not heard of Hogarth?, Who has not pored | parlour of some country inn, or “ hung upon the walls 
over some one of his extraordinary, prints, begrimed | of a great -hall in an old-fashioned house?” Some of 


perhaps with the dust and smoke of « century, in the | the original paintings of Hogarth—for he was a painter 
Vou, ITI. 


—— 





ee 





~~ 


422 


as well as an engraver—are familar to residents -in 


London, as forming part of the public collection at the 
National Gallery. But still Hogarth is not universally 
known. and appreciated—his works. have not yet: fairly 
ot into the hands of the people. The origial prints 
are now scarce and expensive; the various republica- 
tions of them in folio and quarto are nearly as dear. 
The small edition lately published by Mr. Major, in one 
volume octavo, and the edition in shilling numbers, 
now publishing by Messrs. Jones, are excellent in their 
way, but they are still not likely to reach the great 
body of the population. We propose, therefore, during 
the present year, to give copies in ‘The Penny Ma- 
eazine’ of from twenty to thirty of the best prints of 
Hogarth, engraved in wood by Mr. Jackson, and of as 
large a size as our work will admit. By this means, 
and with accompanying descriptions, we hope to make 
Hogarth understood by many thousands of readers. 
We say of readers, for we quite agree with Mr. Charles 
Lamb, the author who has written best upon the works 
of this great satirist, that “* his graphic representations 
are indeed books: they have the teeming, fruitful, sug- 
gestive meaning of words, Other pictures we look at, 
—his prints we read.” 

For obvious reasons, the selection we shall make 
from the works of Hogarth will be somewhat more 
amited than if these subjects were published in a 
separate form. Although the moral tendency of Ho- 
garth’s works is unexceptionable,—althoucgh he laboured 
all his life to illustrate the axiom, that 

“ Vice is a monster of such frightful mien 
As, to be hated, needs but to be seen,” 

the change in our taste since Hogarth drew (and, in 
many respects, the change is an improvement) prevents 
the republication of many of his most capital per- 
formances in a work of such general circulation as the 
‘Penny :Magazme.’ ‘That our intentions may not be 
niustaken, we beg to give the following list of the Prints 
which have been decided upon, including. those of the 
present Number :— 
. Porrrarr or Himsenr,. 
2. MarniaGe a-La-Mope.—Tur Saroon. 

. Luc Cocxrrr. 

. Lue Raxe’s Prooress.—Tur Lever. 


3 

4 

5 Tue Gamina House. 
6. Ture Evecrion.—Tue Feast, 
7 

8 

9 





———w 

















Tie CANVASS. 









































. ——————— TH: Pon. 
: Tue Cuariina, 
“10. InNpustry anv IpLengss, Puare I. 

}1. —__—_—— lI, 
12 —__- ITI. 
A i a , 
14, —_—_ —____.____.._ CL>p,, 
e~. ——__._. =e. 
16. 2 1X. 
ys xX. 
18. Tus Enraarep Musician 


» Tues Disrressep Poet, 

» BEER Srreer, 

. Gin Lane. 

- Tue Counrry Inn Yarp, 

. A Mrpniaur ConversaTIon, 
© Tue Ponirictan, 


‘Those who are acquainted with the works of Hogarth 
will be aware that in this selection we have not intro- 
duced a single print that can offend the most fasti- 
dious taste. In many of them there will be found 
representations of human nature in its degradations of 
vice and imprudence; but such representations. are 
redeemed from the possibility of exciting disgust by the 
exquisite skill of the artist. Mr. Lamb has put ina 
striking point of view the power of Hogarth in raising 
whe humblest and most wretched scene into a subject 
of the highest moral interest. We should injure the 
effect of the passage if we were to attempt to give its 
substance merely * ;— : 


* © Works: of Charles Lamb’ vol. it., p. 94, ° 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Marcu 3], 


“Jt is the fashion with those who cry up the great 
historical school in this country, at the head of which 
Sir Joshua Reynolds is placed, to exclude Hogarth 
from ‘that ‘school, as an artist of an inferior and vulgar 
class. ‘Those persons seem to me to confound the 
painting of subjects in common or vulevar life, with the 
being a vulgar artist. The quantity of thought which 
Hogarth crowds into every picture would alone wnvii- 
garize every subject which he might choose. Let us 
take the lowest of his subjects,—the print called ‘ Gin 
Lane.’ Here is plenty of poverty and low stuff to dis- 
gust upon a superficial view; and, accordingly, a cold 
spectator feels himself immediately diseusted and re- 
pelled, JI have seen many turn away-from-it, not being 
able to bear it. The same persons would, perhaps, have 
looked with great complacency upou Poussin’s cele- 
brated picture of the ‘ Plague at Athens*.’ Disease, 
and death, and bewildering terror, in Athenian garments, 
are endurable, and come, as the delicate critics express 
it, ‘ within the limits of pleasurable sensation:’ but 
the scenes of their own St. Giles’s, delineated by their 
own countryman, are too shocking to think of. Yet if 
we could abstract our mind from the fascinating colours 
of the picture, and forget the coarse execution (in some 
respects) of the print, intended as it was to be a cheap 
plate, accessible to the poorer sort of people, for whose 
instruction it was done, I think we could have no hesi- 
tation in conferring the palm of superior genius upon 
Hogarth, comparing this work of his with Poussin's 
picture. ‘here is more imagination in it,—that power 
which draws all things to one,—which makes things 
animate and inanimate, beings with their attributes, 
subjects and their accessaries, take one colour, and 
serve to one effect. Wverything in the print, to use 
a vulgar expression, ¢ells. Every part is full of 
* strange images of death.’ It is perfectly amazing and 
astounding to look at. Not only the two prominent 
figures, the woman and the half-dead man, which are 
as terrible as anything which Michacl Angelo ever 
drew, but everything else in.the print contributes to 
bewilder and stupify,—the very houses, as I heard a ° 
friend of mine express it, tumbling all about in various 
directions, seem drunk,—seem absolutely reeling from 
the effect of that diabolical spirit of phrenzy which goes 
forth over the whole composition. To show the poetical 
and almost prophetical conception in the artist, one 
little circumstance may serve. Not content with the 
dying and dead figures, which he has strewed in pro- 
fusion over the proper scene of the action, he shows you 
what (of a kindred nature) is passing beyond it. Close 
hy the shell, in which, by the direction of the parish 
beadle, a man is depositing his wife, is an old wall, 
which, partaking of the universal decay around it, is 
tumbling to pieces. Through a gap in this wall are 
seen three figures, which appear to make a part in some 
funeral procession which is passing by on the other 
side of the wall, out of the sphere of the composition. 
This extending of the interest beyond the bounds of 
the subject could only have been conceived by a great 
genius.” 

It is our intention, in the present Number, to give a 
short notice of Hogarth’s Life,—to accompany his por- 
trait; and to offer a few remarks upon the two subjects 
which we have selected as introductory specimens of the 
general character of his compositions. 'The facts of his 
life we shall abridge from a memoir iu a recent number 
of the * Gallery of Portraits,’ published hy the Society 
for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 

‘J was born,’ says Hogarth in his Memoirs of 
himself, ‘ in the city of London, November 10, 1697. 
My father’s pen, like that of many authors, did not 
enable him to do more than put me in a way of shifting | 
for myself. As I had naturally a good eye, and a 


* At the late Mr. Hope's in Cavendish Square, 


Ms 


1834.] 


fondness for drawing, shows of all sorts gave me 
uncommon pleasure when an infant; and mimicry, 
common to all children, was remarkable in me. An 
early access to a neighbouring painter drew my atten- 
tion from play; and I was, at every possible oppor- 
tunity, employed in making drawings. I picked up 
an acquaintance of the same turn, and soon learnt to 
draw the alphabet with great correctness. My exercises 
when at school were more remarkable for the ornaments 
which adorned them, than for the exercise itself. In 
the former I soon found that blockheads with better 
memories could much surpass me; but for the latter I 
was particularly distinguished.’ 

To this account of Hogarth’s childhood we have 
only to add, that his father, an enthusiastic and 
laborious scholar, who, like many of his craft, owed 
little to the favour of fortune, consulted these indica- 
tions of talent as well as his means would allow, and 
bound his son apprentice to a silver-plate engraver. 
But Hogarth aspired after something higher than 
drawing ciphers and coats-of-arms; and before the 
expiration of his indentures he had made himself a 
eood draughtsman, and obtained considerable know- 
ledge of colouring. It was his ambition to become 
distinguished as an artist ; and not content with being 
the mere copier of other men’s productions, he sought 
to combine the functions of the painter with those of 
the engraver, and to gain the power of delineating his 
own ideas, and the fruits of his acute observation. He 
has himself explained the nature of his views in a 
passace which is worth attention :— 

‘Many reasons led me to wish that I could find the 
shorter path,—fix forms and characters in my mind,— 
and instead of copying the lines, try to read the lan- 
wuage, and, if possible, find the grammar of ‘the art 
by bringing ‘nto one focus the various observations I 
had made, and then trying by my power on the canvass 
how far my plan enabled me to combine and apply 
them to practice. For this purpose I considered what 
various ways, and to what different purposes, the 
memory might be applied; and fell upon one most 
suitable to my situation and idle disposition; laying it 
down first as an axiom, that he who could by any 
means acquire and retain in his memory perfect ideas 
of the subjects he meant to draw, would have as clear 
a knowledge of the figure as a man who can write freely 


_ THE PENNY MAGAZINE... - 


123 


‘was much forwarded by his admiration of the ‘ Harlot’s' 


Progress,’ a series of six prints, commenced in 1731, 
and published in 1734. The novelty as well as merit 
of this'series of prints won for them extraordinary 
popularity ; and their success encouraged Hogarth to 
undertake a similar history of the ‘ Rake’s Progress,’ 
in eight prints, which appeared in 1735. The third, 
and perhaps the most popular of these pictorial novels, 
* Marriage-a-la-Mode,’ was not engraved till 1745. 

The merits of these prints were sufficiently intelligible 
to the public: their originality and boldness of design, 
aud the force and freedom of their execution, won for 
them an extensive popularity and a rapid and continued 
sale. The Harlot’s Progress was the most eminently 
successful, from its novelty rather than from its superior 
excellence. ‘Twelve hundred subscribers’ names were 
entered for it; it was dramatized in several forms; and 
we may note, in illustration of the difference of past and 
present manners, that fan-mounts were engraved, con- 
taining miniature copies of the six plates. ‘The merits 
of the pictures were less obvious to the few who could 
afford to spend large sums on works of art; and Ho- 
garth, too proud to let them go for prices niuch below 
the value which he put upon them, waited for a long 
time, and waited in vain, fora purchaser. At last he 
determined to commit them to public sale; but instead 
of the common method of auction, he devised a new 
and complex plan, with the intention of excluding pic- 
ture-dealers, and obliging men of rank and wealth, who 
wished to purchase, to judge and bid for themselves. 
The scheme failed, as might have been expected. Nine- 
teen of Hogarth’s principal pictures produced only 
A271. '7s., not averaging 22/. 1Us. each. The Harlot’s 
Progress was purchased by Mr. Beckford, at the rate of 
fourteen euineas a picture; five of the series perished 
in the fire at Fonthill. The Rake’s Progress averaged 
twenty-two wuineas a picture; it has passed into the 
possession of Sir John Soane, at the advanced price 
of five hundred and seventy guineas. The same emi- 
nent architect became the proprietor of the four pictures 
of an Election, for the sum of 1732/. Marriage a-la- 
Mode was disposed of in a similar way in 1750; and on 
the day of sale one bidder appeared, who became master 
of the six pictures, together with their frames, for 
115/.10s. Mr. Angerstein purchased them, in 1797, 
for 1381/., and they now form a striking feature in our 


hath of the twenty-five letters of the alphabet and their | National Gallery. 


infinite combinations,’ Acting on these principles, he 
improved by constant exercise his natural powers of | 
observation and recollection. In his rambles among 
the motley scenes of London he was ever on the watch 
for striking features or incidents; and not trusting en- 
tirely to memory, he was accustomed, when any face 
struck him as peculiarly grotesque or expressive, to 
sketch it on his thumb-nail, to be treasured up on paper 
at his return hoine. 

For some time after the expiration of his apprentice- 
ship, Hogarth continued to practise the trade to which 
he was bred,—engraving shop-bills, coats-of-arms, 
firures upon tankards, &c. Soon he procured employ- 
ment in furnishing frontispieces and designs for the 
booksellers. ‘The most remarkable of these are the 
plates to an edition of Hudibras, published in 1726. 
About 1728 he began to seek employment as a portrait 
painter. Most of his performances were small family 
pictures, containing several figures, which he calls 
‘ Conversation Pieces, from twelve to fifteen inches 
high. These for a time were very popular, and his 
practice was considerable, as his price was low. His 
life-size portraits are few. 

In 1729, Hogarth contracted a stolen marriage with 
the only daughter of the once fashionable painter, Sir 
James Thornhill. The father, for some time impla- 
cable, relented at last ; and the reconciliation, it is said, 


The satire of Hogarth was not often of a personal 
nature; but he knew his own power, and-he sometimes 
exercised it. Two of his prints, ‘ The Times,’ pro- 
duced a memorable quarrel between himself on one side, 
and Wilkes and Churchill on the other. The satire of 
the prints of The Times, which were published in 1762, 
was directed, not against Wilkes himself, but his poli- 
tical friends, Pitt and Temple; nor is it so biting as to 
have required Wilkes, in defence of his party, to reta- 
liate upon one with whom he had lived in familiar and 
friendly intercourse. He did so, however, in a number 
of the North Briton, containing not only abuse of the 
artist, but unjust and injurious mention of his wife. 
Hogarth was deeply wounded by this attack: he re- 
torted by the well-known portrait of Wilkes with the 
cap of liberty, and he afterwards represented Churchill 
as a bear. The quarrel was unworthy the talents either 
of the painter or poet. It isthe more to be regretted, 
because its effects, as he himself intimates, were lu- 
rious to Hogarth’s declining health. 'The summer of 
1764 he spent at Chiswick, and the free air and exercise 
worked a partial renovation of his strength. ‘he 
amendment, however, was but temporary ; and he died 
suddenly, October 26, the day after lis return to lis 
London residence in Leicester-square. 

Hogarth has left a memoir of his own hfe, from which 
we have quoted, which contains some curious and in- 


R 2 


124 


teresting and instructive matter concerning his own 
modes and motives of thought and action. He wrote 
verses occasionally in a rough and familiar style, but 
not without some sparkles of his humorous turn. But 
his most remarkable performance is the ‘ Analysis of 
Beauty, composed with the view of fixing the princi- 
ples of taste, and laying down unerring directions for 
the student of art. Its leading principle is, that the 
serpentme line is the foundation of all that is beautiful, 
whether in nature or art. ; The work ‘unquestionably 
contains much that is original and valuable. 


From the time when the young Hogarth began to 
jot down imaginary faces and other rude forms upon 
the margins of his school exercises,—to the further stage 
in the progress of his imitative talent when he learned 
to scratch upon silver tankards and copper plates,—and 
onward to the still further stage, when, as it were in 
correspondence with the satirical images he had formed 
in his mind by patient thought, he sketched real faces 
upon his thumb-nail ;—in all these several processes of 
his education as an artist, through what intense re- 
flection, not only upon human nature and human society, 
but_upon the possibility of making the deepest things 
intelligible to the eye of the casual observer, must the 
great moral painter have passed, before he could pro- 
duce such a picture as the one we now eopy! ‘Take it 
rough as we give it. It is printed from a leaden cast 
of a wooden block, copied from his own engraving upon 
copper. It is probable that his own print fell far short 
of ‘his. conceptions ; and that their translation and re- 
translation into the language in which we must put 
them before a million of readers, may abate something 
of their force and fervency, as expounded by himself. 
But no defect in the mechanical process by which con- 
ceptions like Hogarth’s are made apparent to all the 
world, can much detract from their originality and 
truth. , The rudest copy must partake in a great degree 
of the nature of the original model. The Apollo is still 
an ‘Apollo, though he-is hawked about the streets in 
plaster for a shilling. . Look at the wood-cut,—the 
best we are able to give,—or consult the original picture 
in “the National Galiery, there is still, in the few ele- 
ments of which that scene is composed, an intensity of 
truth .which ‘ lectures on the vanity of plea as 
audibly as anything i in’ Eeclesiastes.”’ 

The series called ° The Marriage- “Acla-Mode’ consists 
of six pictures. - The personages of ‘this tragical drama 
are taken from’ the upper walks of. society. The son 
of a nobleman seeks an alliance with the daughter of a 
wealthy. London citizen." On the one side there is a 
pedigree from William the Conqueror, but an estate 
embarrassed by improvident. expenditure: on the other 
there is humble birth, but - great riches. ‘he parents 
settle this ill-assorted inarriage ;—those who are to be 
made happy or wretched, virtuous or vicious, for the 
rest. of their lives, care little about the matter. -The 
preliminaries are arranged ; -—-the marriage has taken 
place ;—the first solemn farce is over ;—the tragedy 
begins i in the scene before us. 

There.i is no after misery arising out of dérgbstic un- 
happiness, which is perhaps comparable to the habitual 
wretchedness and degradation which ensue - when a man 
and his wife, in whatever station they may be placed, 
have no pleasures in common. ‘That purest of friend- 
ship—that almost only real friendship—which results 
from a correspondence of tastes and inclinations in two 
persons of different sexes allied ‘ for better or worse, 
requires no excitements from without. From the moment 
when they cease to sympathize as to the sources of hap- 
piness, come weariness, and disgust, and hatred, and 
all the horrid train of ills that belong to domestic discord. 
The scene before us requires no development of the 
catastrophe to make us understand its present wretch- 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


| emblems of midnight riot. 


[Marcu 3], 
edness. The lady has passed the night in her splendid 


mansion, amidst a crowd of visiters. She has snatched 
an hour or two of broken and feverish sleep, and has 
risen unrefreshed to a late breakfast. ‘The servants 
have been unable to repair the disorder of the previous 
night. Jtis noon; but the candles are still burning ; 
the furniture is disarranged ; the floor is strewed with 
music, and books of games, and overturned chairs,—the 
It is in scenes like this that 
the sources of our purest enjoyments become to us curses. 
What is innocent relaxation to the pure in heart is con- 
verted into a minister to evil passions and corrupting 
idleness in those who have no elevating or useful. em- 
ployments, and who embitter life in the vain pursuit of 
pleasures that can only be won as the solace of honest 
exertion. ‘he husband has spent his night from home— 
how vainly, how unwisely! The °° jaded debauchee’— 
his dress disordered, his features pale and fallen, his 
whole attitude expressive of that withering satiety which 
has drunk the dregs of what is called pleasure and found 
nothing but poison in the cup—tells a tale of the ruin 
which has overwhelmed thousands, and which will con- 
tinue to overwhelm, till all classes of men, the richest as 
well as the poorest, learn to seek for happiness ‘in the 
exercise and the cultivation of the higher qualities of 
their nature—till the restraints and the incentives of a 
truly moral and religious education shall have taken the 
place of the corrupting processes by which we are led 
away from the knowledge of what we are and what we 
ought to be. ‘Truly might this unhappy man say, as 
the representative of a class, in the exquisite words of 
the poet, . a” 
** No more—no more—oh never more on me 
The freshness of the heart can fall lke dew, 
Which out of all the lovely things we see 


Extracts emotions beautiful and new, 
Hived in our bosoms like the bag o’ the bee.”? ~ 


Don Juan, Canto I. 


All the real happiness of this world for him has perished. 
Pleasure has been ‘* weighed in the balance and found 
wanting ;”—deep degradation and misery, are beginning 
to “ cast their shadows before.” - Neither the besotted 
husband nor the careless wife can listen to the silent 
remonstrances of the old steward, who comes to them 


with a bundle of unpaid bills i in ‘his hand, and a file with 


only one receipt upon it. The uplifted. hand and. care- 
worn face of the faithful servant distinctly paint the ruin 
which he sees approaching in debt and dishonour. .The 
catastrophe, indeed, is more sudden than he expects. In 
the four following pictures, we see that 
“ The Gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
Make instruments to scourge us.’ 

The tragedy ends with adultery, and murder, _ sui- 
cide. Hogarth put forth his strength in these: pictures 
to exhibit the short cut to ruin which too often presents 
itself to the desperately vicious. In the ‘ Harlot’s Pro- 
gress,’ and the ‘ Rake’s Progress,’ he exhibits the longer 
but not less certain road upon which crime and misery 
are destined to travel in company. Whether this great 
painter laid his scenes in high or in low life, his object 
was equally to show, as Walpole has well expressed it, 
that * the different vices of the great and the vulgar 
lead by various: paths to the same unhappiness.” He 
was too keen an observer of human nature not to see 
that station only decides the form and colour of our evil 
doings. Crime is a leveller of all distinctions. 

This truth was never more forcibly exemplified than 
in the print which we have chosen to present as a 
contrast to that which we have just described. ‘ The 
Cockpit’ is a scene in which men of all ranks are repre- 
sented as engaged in one brutalizing species of vice— 
amusement we will not call it. Here are a peer and a 
pickpocket, a French marquis and a chimney- -sweep, 
a doctor and a horse-jockey, all busily engaged in the 


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125 


[Marriage ii-la-Mode.—The Saloon. ] 


126 


cruel excitement of a cock-match. They are one and 
all equally ignorant, thoughtless, and depraved, whether 
they wear bag-wigs or smock-frocks, or exlubit their 
cupidity in stealing a bank-note, or offering a bet. It 
is possible that the progress of education may have 
drive those who call themselves g@cutlemen from such 
open exhibitions of profligacy; but the spirit that for- 
merly carried them to the dirty cock-pit still allures them 
to the gorgeons saloon. The sepulchre is only whitened. 
But at the time when Hogarth painted, men of rank 
were to be constantly seen in such disgraceful society. 
The figure in the centre of the piece is a portrait of a 
nobleman of Hogarth’s day, who, although he had the 
misfortune to be totally blind, had the @reater misfortune 
to have his moral sense so dim as to place his chief 
eratification iu excitements of this groveling nature. 
On the left of the picture is an old mau, a cripple with 
his crutch, deaf almost beyond the power of compre- 
hension, for his features appear to give no signal of 
understanding the words of the man who is bawling to 
him through his ear-trumpet. Nothing can be finer 
or truer than the satire conveyed in the exhibition of 
these examples of human infirmity. Kuowledge is shut 
ont in these men from two of her chief inlets,—and yet 
they cultivate not that calm reflection which so pecu- 
liarly belongs to their condition, but cling to base excite- 
ments, in the spirit of which they are even precluded from 
completely participating. ‘The group around the blind 





peer is arranged very skilfully ; and the faces of the seve-. 


ral characters all exhibit that deep meaning for which 
Hogarth is so remarkable. Five of the men about the 
unfortunate dupe are clamorous for him to bet with 
them. The vacant expression of lis countenance, and 
the helplessness of his whole attitude, bewildered as he 
is by so many assailants, are expressed with surprising 
truth. At the moment of his embarrassment the 
fellow next the pit, on his left hand, is purloining a 
note.. The cautious villainy expressed in this man’s 
face 18 unrivalled. The post-boy, just above the thief, 
appears calling the blind man’s attention to the pilfer- 
ing that is going forward,—but he is utterly insensible 
to every thing but the rage for betting which has taken 
possession of him. 

Lhe group on the right of the picture is as well 
defined in its principal action as that of the centre. Jn 
his eagerness to see the match, a man has fallen forward 
against the edge of the pit. With the exception of the 
round-faced person, whom he has crushed, nobody is 
moved by the uproar. The peer in his star and spec- 
tacles is as much absorbed by the battle as if he had 
not a particle of dignity to be ruffled by all this shoul- 
dering and elbowing ;—the despair of the man in the 
right corner, and the deep abstraction of the other 
gamester, next the gentleman who has lost his periwig, 
are finely marked. In the third group on the left, 
nothing’ can be more characteristic of such scenes than 
the eagerness of the countryman who stakes his crown, 
—the business-like gravity of the old fellow with a cock 
in a bag,—and the sedateness of his neighbour who is 
registering the wagers. The people in the lower tier 
are all actively engaged in making bets or quarrelling. 
The two men reaching to join the butt ends of their 
whips indicate, by this act, that they have closed a bet. 

The other parts of the picture will be understood 
without any particular description. We cannot, how- 
ever, omit to point out the extraordinary skill with 
which Hogarth in this, as iu other of his performances, 
contrived to indicate some accessary of the scene by 
one of the minute touches which @enius only can con- 
ceive. The shadow on the pit is that of a man. These 
scenes take place by lamp-light; and refleeted from 
the lamp is the shadow of a gambler, who has been 
suspended from the ceiling ina basket, for the crime 
of not making gaod his stakes. 


- 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT: OF 


jected to him by Barry, the celebrated painter. 


Degraded as he is, the | 


[Marcu 3], 


passion clings to him even in his punishment : he is of: 
fering his wateh as another stake. 

The ‘Cock-pit’ is one of those pictures in which 
Howarth exhibits vice im its more ludicrous attitudes 
a thing to be despised as well as abhorred. As we ad- 
vance in our plan, we shall have to poimt out his wou- 
derfiil power of painting the more terrible features of 
crime—the deep tragedy of giult, unrelieved by the 
lighter touches of the satirist. Yet even in these ter- 
rible displays of a fallen and degraded nature, there is 
always something which carries us back to the gentler 
feeliugs of humanity, and makes us still cling with pity 
to our species. Mr. Lamb has beantifully deseribed 
this merit of the painter—which is indeed cominon to 
all great artists, whether they employ lines or words as 
the vehicles of their thoughts. Perpetual instances of 
this power occur in Shakspeare s and in Crabbe, who 
may be considered a painter of crime and suffering in 
the same walk and in the best spirit of Hogarth, there 
are constant examples of tenderness and natural affec- 
tiou coming to relieve the sense of disgust and loathing. 
Mr. Lamb says :— 

‘““If an image of maternal love be required, where 
shall we find a sublimer view of it than in that aged 
woman in ‘ Industry and Idleness’ (Plate I.), who is 
clinging with the fondness of hope uot quite extin- 
cuished to her brutal, vice-hardened child, whom she is 
accompanying to the ship which is to bear him away 
from his native soil, of which he has been judzed un- 
worthy: in whose shocking face every trace of the 
human countenance seems obliterated, and a brute 
beast’s to be left instead,—shocking and repulsive to 
all but her who watched over it in its cradle before it 
was so sadly altcred, and feels it must belong to her 
while a pulse by the vindictive laws of his country shall 
be suffered to continue to beat init? * * * With 
the exception of some of the plates of the ‘ Harlot’s 
Progress,’ which are harder in their character than any 
of the rest of his productions, (the ‘ Stages of Cruelty ’ 
I omit as mere worthless caricatures, foreign to his 
general habits—the offspring of his fancy in some way- 
ward humour,) there is scarce one of his pieces where 
vice is most strongly satirized, in which some figure is 
hot introduced upon which the moral eye may rest 
satisfied; a face that indicates goodness, or, perhaps, 
mere good-humouredness and carelessness of mind 
(negation of evil) only, yet enough to give a relaxation 
to the growing train of satire, and keep the general air 
from tainting.” 

It has been urged, however, that many of Hozgarth’s 
works were of a nature merely to entertain, “‘ to shake 
the sides,” and not to ** attempt the heart,” as was ob- 
This 
has been met so admirably by Mr. C. Lamb, that we 
cannot refrain from giving his triumphant refutation :— 

“There remains avery numerous class of his per- 
formances, the object of which must be confessed to be 
principally comic. But tn all of them will be found 
something to distinguish them from the droll produe- 
tions of Bunbury and others. They have this differ- 
ence, that we do not laugh at, but are led into lone 
trains of reflection by them. In this respect they 
resemble the chavacters of Chaucer’s ‘ Pilerims,’ which 
have strokes of humour in them enongh to desienate 
them for the most part’ as comic, but our strongest 
feeling still is wonder at the comprehensiveness of 
genius which could crowd, as poet and painter have 
done, into one small canvass so many diverse yet co- 
operating materials. 

The faces of Hogarth have not a mere momentary 
Interest, as Jn caricatures, or those erotesque phy- 
siognomies Which we sometimes catch a olance of in 
the streets, and, struck with their whimsicality, wish for 
a pencil and the power to sketch them down, and for 





; 


1834,] . 


get them again as rapidly, but they are permanent 
abiding ideas; not the sports of Nature, but her 
necessary eternal classes. We feel that we cannot part 
with any of them, lest a link should be broken. 

* Itis worthy of observation, that he has seldom drawn 
a mean or insignificant countenance. Hogarth’s mind 
was eminently reflective; and, as it has been well ob- 
served of Shakspeare, that he has transfused his own 
poetical character into the persons of his drama (they 


are all more .or less pocts), Hogarth has impressed a | 


thinking character upon the persons of his canvass. 
This remark must not be taken universally. The exqui- 
site idiotism of the little gentleman in the bag and 
sword, beating his drum, in the print of the ‘ Euraged 
Musician,’ would, of itself, rise up against so sweeping 
an assertion. But I think it will be found to be true 
of the generality of his countenances. The knife- 
grinder and’ Jew flute-player in the plate just men- 
tioned, may serve as instancés instead of a thousand. 
They have intense thinking faces, though the purpose 
to which they are subservient by no means required it ; 
but, indeed, it seems as if it was painful to Hogarth to 
contemplate mere vacancy or insignificance. 

‘This reflection of the artist’s own intellect from the 
faces of his characters, is one reason why the works of 
Hogarth, so mnch more than those of any other artist, 
are objects of meditation. Our intellectual natures love 
the mirror which gives them back their own likenesses. 
The mental eye will not bend long with delight on va- 
cancy. 

Another line of eternal separation between Hogarth 
and the common painters of droll or burlesque subjects, 
with whom he is often confounded, is the sense of beauty 
which, in the most unpromising subjects, seems never 
wholly to have deserted him. * * * To this may be added 
the frequent introduction of children (which Hogarth 
seeins to have taken a particular delight in) into his 
pieces. They havea singular effect in givine tranquil- 
lity and a portion of their own innocence to the subject. 
Lhe baby riding in its mother’s lap in the ‘March to 
Finchley, (its careless innocent face placed directly 
behind the intriguing time-firrowed countenance of the 
treason-plotiing Hrench priest,) perfectly sobers the 
whole of that tumultuous scene. The boy, moreover, 
winding up his top with such unpretending insensibi- 
lity in the plate of the ‘ Harlot’s Funeral’ (the only 
thing in that assembly that is not a hypocrite) quiets 
and soothes the mind that has been disturbed at the 
sight of so much depraved man and woman kind. * * * 

*“ In the ‘Election Entertainment’ (which perhaps as 
far exceeds the more known and celebrated ‘ March to 
Finchley’ as the best comedy exceeds the best farce 
that ever was written) let a person look till he be satu- 
rated, aud when he has done wondering at the inventive- 
ness of genius which could bring so many characters— 
more than thirty distinct classes of face—into a room, 
and set them down at table together, or otherwise 
dispose them about in so natural a manner, engage 
them in so many easy sets and occupations, yet all par- 
taking of the spirit of the occasion which brought them 
together, so that we feel that nothing but an election 
time could have assembled them; having no central 
figure or principal eroup,—for the hero of the piece, 
the candidate, is properly set aside in the levelling in- 
distinction of the day,—one must look for him to find 
him,—nothing to detain the eye from passing from 


part to part, where every part is alike instinct with life, : 


—for here are no furniture-faces, no figures brought in 
to fill up the scene like stawe-choruses, but all dramatis 
persone: when he shall have done wondering at all 
these faces so strongly charactered, yet finished with 
the accuracy of the finest miniature; when he shall 
have done admiring the numberless appendages of the 


scene, those gratuitous doles which rich genius flings 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


127 


inte the heap when it has already done enough, the: 
over measure which it delights in giving, as if it felt 
its stores were exhaustless; the dumb rhetoric of the 
scenery,—for tables and chairs, and joint stools in 
Hogarth are living and significant things; the witti-. 
cisms that are expressed by words, (all artists but 
Hogarth have failed when they have endeavoured to 
combine two mediums of expression, and have introduced 
words into their pictures,) and the unwritten, number- 
less little allusive pleasantries that are scattered about 
the work that is going on in the scene and beyond it, 
as is made visible to the ‘ eye of mind’ by the mob 
which chokes up the door-way, and the sword that has 
forced an entrance before its master: when he shall 
have snfficiently admired this wealth of genius, let him 
fairly say what is the vesud¢ left on his mind? Is it an: 
impression of the vileness and worthlessness of his 
species? or is not the general feeling which remains, 
after the individual faces have ceased to act sensibly on 
the mind, a kindly one in favour of his species? Was 
not the general air of the scene wholesome ? did it do 
the heart hurt to be among it? Something of a riotous 
spirit to be sure is there, some worldly-mindedness in 
some of the faces, a Doddingtonian smoothness which 
does not promise any superfluous degree of sincerity in 
the fine gentleman whio has been the occasion of calling 
so much good coinpany together ; but is not the general 
cast of expression in the faces of the good sort? do they 
not seem cut out of the good old rock—substantial 
English honesty? would one fear treachery among 
characters of their expression? or shall we call their 
honest mirth and seldom-returning relaxation by the 
hard names of vice and profligacy? That poor country 
fellow that is grasping his staff, (which, from the diffi- 
culty of feeling themselves at home which poor men 
experience at a feast, he has never parted with since he 
came into the room,) and is enjoying, with a relish that 
seems to fit all the capacities of his soul, the slender 
joke which that facetious wag his neighbour is prac- 
tising upon the gouty gentleman, whose eyes the effort 
to suppress pain has made as round us rings,—does it 
shock the ‘ dignity of human nature’ to look at that 
man, and to sympathize with him in the seldom-heard 
joke which has unbent his care-worn, hard-working 
visage, and drawn iron smiles from it? or that full- 
hearted cobbler, who is honouring with the grasp of 
an honest fist the unused palm of that annoyed pa- 
trician whom the licence of the time has seated next him ? 

“I can see nothing ‘dangerous’ in the contempla- 
tion of such scenes as this, or the ‘ Enraged Musician,’ 
or the ‘ Southwark Fair,’ or twenty o‘her pleasant 
prints which come crowding in upon my recollection, 
in which the restless activities, the diversified bents and 
humours, the blameless peculiarities of men, as they 
deserve to be called, rather than their ‘ vices and follies,’ 





are held up in a laughable point of view. All laughter 


is not of a dangerous or soul-hardening tendency. There 
is the petrifying sneer of a demon, which excludes and 
kills love, and there is the cordial laughter of a man 
which implies and cherishes it. What heart was ever 
made the worse by joining in a hearty laugh at the sim- 
plicities of Sir Hugh Evans or Parson Adams, where 11 
sense of the ridiculous mutually kindles and is kindled 
by a perception of the amiable? That tumultuous 
harmony of singers who are roaring out the words * The 
world shall bow to the Assyrian throne,’ from the opera 
of ‘Judith,’ in the third plate of the series, called 
* Hour Groups of Heads ;’ which the quick eye of Ho- 
garth must have struck off in the very infancy of the 
1age for sacred oratorios in this country, while ‘ Musie 
yet was young ;’ when we have done smiling at the 
deafening distortions which these tearers of devotion to 
rags and tatters, these takers of heaven by storm, in 
their boisterous mimicry of the occupation of angels, 


128 


sre makine—what unkindly impression is left behin, 
or what more of harsh or contemptuous feeling, than 
when we quietly leave Uncle Toby and Mr. Shandy 
riding their hobby-horses about the room? ‘The con- 
ceited long-backed sign-painter, that with all the self- 
applause of a Raphael or Corregio (the twist of body 


which his conceit has thrown him into has something of . 


the Corregiesque in it) is contemplating the picture of 
a bottle which he is drawing from an actual bottle that 
hangs beside him, in the print of ‘ Beer Street,’ while 
we smile at the enormity of the self-delusion, can we 
help loving the good-humour and self-complacency of 
the fellow? would we willingly wake him from his 
dream ? , c= 5 

‘* 1 say not that all the ridiculous subjects of Ho- 
garth have necessarily something in them to make us 


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like them: some are indifferent to us; some in their 
natures repulsive, and only made interesting by the 
wonderful skill and truth to nature in the painter; but 
I contend that there is, in most of them, that sprinkling 
of the better nature which, like holy water, chases 
away and disperses the contagion of the bad. They 
have this in them besides, that they bring us ac- 
quainted with the every-day human face ;—they give us 
skill to detect those gradations of sense and virtue 
which escape the careless or fastidious observer in the 
countenances of the world about us, and prevent that 
disgust at common life, that tedium quotidianarum 
jformarum which an unrestricted passion for ideal forms 
and beauties is in danger of producing. In this; as in 
many other things, they are analogous: to the: best 


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130 


Tue metropolis of Ireland is celebrated for the beauty 
of its public buildings ; and the Bank, the College, the 
Four Courts, the Custom-House, the Stamp-Office, tlie 
Post-Office, the Royal Exchange, the new Catholic 
church of St. Mary’s, and other edifices, well sustain its 
claim to be accounted one of the finest cities in the 
United Kingdom. The architectural ornaments, how- 
ever, of which it has most reason to be proud are almost 
all modern. Of ancient Gothic magnificence, of which 
England has so much to show, there are few remains 
either here or anywhere else in Ireland. St. Patrick’s 
Cathedral is, we believe, the most remarkable structure 
in the Gothic style now to be found in the country. 
Dublin possesses two cathedrals, of which that dedi- 
cated to the Holy Trinity, and commonly called Christ’s 
Church, enjoys the priority in point of dignity. It is 
a very old building, and is now in a state of extreme 
decay. Both the Cathedral of Christ’s Church and 
that of St. Patrick stand on the south side of the 
river Liffey, in the south-west quarter of the city, which 
is the most ancient part of it. Christ’s Church 1s 
nearest the river, and St. Patrick’s stands directly sonth 
The situation of the latter is very low, and it 


St ie ae 


bo ema 


fapae 


Comyn was burned to the ground, the blame of which 
is thrown upon the negligence of John the sexton. In 
1364 the restoration of the edifice was begun by 
Thomas Minot, the then archbishop; and the work 
was probably completed before the end of the fourteenth 
century. Minot is known to haye laid, in the year 
1370, the foundation of the present tower, which rises 
over the intersection of the nave and transept, and to 
have lived to finish it according to the original design. 
The spire by which it is ornamented was only added 
abont the middle of the last century. Archbishop 
Minot commemorated his pious work by assuming on 
his seal the somewhat strange deyice of a bishop holding 
in his hand a church steeple. 

Both time and the hand of man had grievously de- 
faced the original featuress of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, 
and the building appeared to be hastening to ruin, when, 
fourteen or fifteen years ago, principally through the 
exertions of the late Dr. Keating, the dean, the funds 
were obtained for a thorough reparation of it, which has 
since been executed. It has now been put into such a 


* See * History of Dublin,’ by Warburton, Whitelaw, and- 


Walsh, 2 vols,, 4to., 1818, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Arai 5, 


state, that if may last for some ages. Not only the 
cathedral itself has been renovated externally and in 
the interior, and the parts of it which were partially or 
wholly in ruins restored, but many surrounding old 
buildings, by which it used to be incumbered and dis- 
fieured, have been cleared away. 

According to the measurements given in Warburton 
and Walsh’s * History of Dublin,’ this cathedral is 300 
feet long and 80 feet in breadth. The transept is 157 
feet from north to south; but neither of the two por- 
tions which extend beyond the nave forms a part of the 
cathedral, that to the south being the Chapter House, 
and that to the north the parish church of St. Nicholas. 
The latter was in ruins before the recent reparation. 
For the purpose of enlarging the choir, also, which 
appears to have been onginally only 60 feet long, the 
central portion of the transept has been taken in from 
the nave, making the length of the choir now 90 feet. 
To the east of the choir is the Chapel of the Virgin, the 
length of which is 55 feet. ‘The nave is stated, by the 
authority referred to above, to he 130 feet in length ; 
but these numbers leave part of the 300 feet given as 
the entire length of the church unaccounted for. The 
account, also, of the width of the several divisions 
of the pave does not seem to correspond with the 


The 


= & +4: 


height of the tower and spire together is 223 feet; of 
which 120 feet is the height from the ground to the 
base of the spire. ; 

The interior of the cathedral has not much architec- 
tural beauty to boast of; but the wooden roof of the 
nave, which is lofty, presents a somewhat fanciful de- 
sign, and the arch, spanning the orginal entrance to 
the choir, has been much admired. ‘he roof of the 
choir, also, is handsome. It was originally of stone, but 
an imitation in stucco has been substituted, the weight 
of the stone having been thought too great for the 
strength of the walls. With these exceptions, the chief 
ornaments of the church consist of monuments and other 
accessories. ‘The choir presents a striking appearance, 
ornamented as it is with the banners of the Knights of 
St. Patrick, which are suspended over the stalls appro- 
priated to the several members of the order. The in- 


knights are reserved in the Chapter House. In the 
Chapter House js also to be seen the skull of the great 


accounts of the battle it is stated that the ball passed 
through his neck; but it appears to have entered the 
head above the right eye. Among the monuments in 
the choir, by far the mast conspicuous js that erected 
in 1631 in honour of Richard, the first Jari of Cork, 
and his countess, upon which ave scutptured these noble 
persons, and no less than fourteen othey individuals 
of their family. ‘The display 1s a very gandy one, 
decorations in wood, painted and gilt, heing intermixed 
with the stone. This smgular tesfimenial, erected while 
the earl was yet alive, is said to have been placed origi- 
nally behind the commmynion-table, from which situation 
it was removed to the south side of the choir, where it 
now stands, by order of the Earl of Strafford, an exertion 
of authority which the Farl of Cork avenged by a 
course of determined hostility to the government of 
Strafford, and finally by presenting himself as one of 
the witnesses against that unfortunate nobleman on the 
trial which ended in his destruction. But.the most 


interesting, monumental record in St. Patrick’s Catlie- 


1934.] 


dral is a marble slab affixed to one of the pillars in the 
nave of the church over the remains of Swift, its illus- 
trious dean. He held this dignity from 1713 till his 
death, on the 19th of October, 1745. 'The short Latin 
inscription, written by himself, contains a keen expres- 
sion of what he probably intended to be taken for.a lofty 
scorn of human folly and vice, but which was really ih 
great part merely a misanthropic impatience generated 
by disappointed ambition: Here, it is said, rests his body, 
‘ ubi seva indienatio ulterius cor lacerare nequit,’— 
where bitter indignation can tear his heart no more. His 
bust, which is said to be a good likeness, is placed over 
the tablet. On the next pillar hangs a similar plain 
memorial of the unfortunate Mrs. Hester Johnson, better 
known as Stella. She is described as having been ‘Sa 
person of extraordinary endowments and accomplish- 
ments of’ body, mind, and behaviour, justly admired 
and respected by all who knew her, on account of her 
many eminent virtues, as well as for her great natural 
and acqiired perfections.” Mrs. Johnson died in her 
forty-sixth year, on the 27th of January, 1728; but 
this inscription was not placed over her grave till 
some time after the death of Swift. Another tablet, in 
ene of the corners of the nave, is also interesting from 
its connexion with this celebrated writer. It is one 
placed by him over the remains of a favourite servant— 
Alexander M‘Gee, who is stated to have died on the 
24th of Mareh, 1722, in the twenty-ninth year of his 
age. 

As in several other of the Dublin churches,—the 
College Chapel, the Castle Chapel, and the Cathedral 
of Christ’s Church,—the musical part of the church 
service is performed in this cathedral in a styie of ex- 
traordinary magnificence. The organ is one of the 
finest in this country, and was the gift of the second 
Duke of Ormond, the ship which was conveying it from 
Rotterdam, where it had been built by the elder Smith, 
having fallen into the hands of his Grace, in 1702, after 
an attack on Vigo in Spain, for one of the churches in 
which city 1t was intended. 





SPIDERS. 


Tne unamiable character of this insect, its unsightly 
appearance, and the zeal with which good housewives 
wage war against it, concur in preventing that geueral 
acquaintance with its habits, which its frequent occur- 
rence and domestic and sedentary mode of life render 
of such easy attainment. ‘The following account, 
though it adds nothing to the stock of existing infor- 
mation on the subiect, affords details which to some of 
our readers will be new and interesting. 

The characteristics of the whole class (4ranec), 
of which the species are many, may be thus stated. 
All spiders differ essentially in their internal structure 
from insects proper, and their external form is very 
peculiar. ‘The feet are always eight in number, instead 
of six, as in insects, terminated by a moveable hook ; 
the eyes are eight, or, thongh very rarely, six. The 
eight eyes of spiders are immovable, and of a structure 
different from those of insects. As each consists of only 
ane lens, it is deprived of the power of multiplying 
objects, and, from its immobility, it can’ only perceive 
those which are placed immediately before it. ‘The 
distribution of the eyes differs greatly in different 
species; but they are always disposed in such a manner 
as, with their number, to meet the deficiencies indicated, 
affording a beantiful instance of those “ compensations” 
to which the attention of the student of mature is con- 
tinually drawn. Spiders do not undergo metamor- 
phoses ; and all envelope their eggs in cocoons of silk, 
varying: in form and texture in the different species. 

The process by which the web of the spider is woven 
is always open to observation 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


e ig ae: 
‘There are five spin- | 


1S] 


nerets or teats near the extremity of the abdomen, the 
apertures of which the insect can contract or enlarge at 
will. ‘These apertures communicate by a tnbe with four 
reservoirs containing the gluey substance of whicli the 
thread is spun. 


=< 7 
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[Garden Spider (Zpeira Diadema), suspended by a thread proceeding from its 
spinneret. | 


When the common house-spider purposes to form a 
web, she generally chooses a place where there is a 
cavity, such as the corner of a room, as-well to faci- 
litate her escape in time of danger as for the advantage 
afforded of more complete inclosure. Having chosen 
a situation, she fixes one end of her thread to the wall, 
by applying her spinneret, and then passes to the other 
side, the thread following her as she recedes. After 
fixing the other end of the thread to the opposite wall, 
she returns, and thus passes to and fro until as many 
parallel threads have been made as she considers neces- 
sary, when she begins to cross thein by other parallel 
threads. ‘Thus are formed the toils or snares designed 
to entangle flies and other small insects. But, besides 
this large web, she generally weaves a small cell for 
herself, where she lies quiet and concealed waiting for 
her prey. This cell is sometimes in the centre of the 
web, but when not so, a connexion is established by 
means of threads, which not only inform her, by the 
agitation communicated to the cell, when anything 
touches the web, but enabies her to pass quickly in order 
te secure the captive strug¢gling in her toils. 


tt hg EV t REN 


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| ‘Geometric Net of Epeira diadema.] 


8 2 


132 


' There are other methods of weaving peculiar to 
different species of spiders, but which our limits will 
not allow us to enumerate. The second cut in p. 131, 
exhibits the geometric net of the garden-spider.. 
Several species of spiders construct a cylindrical web 
under the e¢round, with a lid connected by a sort of 
hinge, which the inhabitant of the cell can open and 
shut at pleasure. In the volume of ‘ Insect Architec- 
ture’ will be found some very curious details of these 
contrivances of mason-spiders*. ‘The following offers 
an example of these wonderful exertions of instinct :— 
‘“* Another mason-spider (Mygale cementaria, Latn.), 
found in the south of Franee, usually selects for her 
nest a place bare of grass, sloping in such a manner as 
to earry off the water, and of a firrn soil, without rocks 
or small stones. She digs a gallery a foot or two in 





[Nest of the Mason-Spider. ] 


A. The nest shut. B. The nest open. C. The spider, mygale cementana. 


D..The eyes magnified, 1, F. Parts of the foot and claw magnified. 


depth, and of.a diameter (equal throughout) suffi- 
cient to admit:of her easily passing. She lines this 
with a tapestry of silk, glued to the walls. The door, 
which is eircular, 1s eonstrueted of many layers of 
earth kneaded, and bound together with silk.‘ Ex- 
ternally it is flat and rough, eorrespondine to the 
eatth around the entrance, for the purpose, no doubt, 
of eoncealment: on the inside it is convex, and tapes- 
tried thiekly with a web of fine silk. The threads 
of this door-tapestry are prolonged, and strongly at- 
tached to the upper side of the entranee, forming: an 
excellent hinge, which, when pushed open by the 
spider, shuts again by its own weight, without the aid 
of spring hinges. When the spider is at home, and 
her door foreibly opened by an intruder, she pulls it 
strongly inwards, aud even when half-opened often 
snatehes it out of the hand; but when she is foiled in 
this, she retreats to the bottom of her den as her last 
resource.” 

Some spiders are aquatie, and spin a eup-like web, 
whieh answers the purpose of a diving-bell, under 
whieh they. disengage the air they brine down from the 
surface, and pass’ their lives feeding on aquatic insects. 
Some spin no web, but take their prey by running: ; 
others, by approaching quietly till within a‘certain dis- 
tanuee, when they suddenly spring upon their prey. 

Lhe means whieh spiders employ in transporting 
themselves from one place to another are not a little 
curious. When the inseet is inclined to change its 
situation, it hangs itself perpendieularly by a thread, 
and, turning its head towards the wind, shoots out 
others from behind, which are wafted about by the air, 


* Spe page 360, &c, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE: 


[Apri 5, 
7) ; 


until ‘they fasten on trees, walls, and other bodies. 
When the spider finds that the.threads have attached 
themselves, which it ascertains by pulling them in with 
its feet, it uses them as a bridge to pass to the place 
where they are fixed. Such threads are frequently seen 
running, parallel to the horizon, from one wall to an- 
other in a house, from one tree to another in a field, 
and even from wall to wall across gardens of consider- 
able extent. That spiders had the means of floating 
through the air appears to have been first ascertained 
by Dr. Lister and Dr, Hulse towards the latter end of 
the seventeenth century. After the insect has, in the 
manner just deseribed, thrown out one or more threads. 
to the length of several fathoms, it snaps that from 
which it hung, and then floats away with the wind; and 
although, of eonrse, it eannot proceed against the wind, 
it seems to have some control over its own eourse, using’ 
its feet in the way of oars to steer, and perhaps, in 
some measure, to row. Many theories have been at- 
tempted for the explanation of this phenomenon; 
amone'st others that it depends upon the electrical state 
of the atmosphere. 
, The height to which they can attain is very sur- 
prising. In a letter to Mr. Ray, Dr. Lister mentions 
that, in October, 1670, he observed the air to be very 
full of these webs, and immediately ascended to the top 
of the highest steeple of York Minster, and could there 
observe them still very high above him. Autumn is 
the principal season for these aérial voyages, thoueh 
they are occasionally undertaken at other times in elear 
and calm weather. As these floating webs are, like 
those in the lower regions, frequently garnished with 
legs, wings, and other marks of slaughter, it is eon- 
cluded that the spiders capture @nats and other inseets 
in their passage. In all stages of their existenee, 
spiders prey with the most savage ferccity on all insects 
they can overcome, and also upon one another. Spiders 
seize and kill their prey with a pair of sharp, crooked 
elaws, or forceps, plaeed in the fore part of the head. 
They can open or extend these pincers as occasions 
require ; and, when undisturbed, they suffer them to lie 
one upon another. It is affirmed that the spider injects 
& poisonous juice into the wonnd it makes. They east 
their skins onee a-year, and they perform this operation 
by suspending themselves in some corner, and ereepine : 
out of their case. ‘These skins are found in the webs 
dry and transparent, with the lees attaehed to them. 

it should be observed that the apertures in the’ 
spinnerets of the spider, from which the viseid matter’ 
which forms the web is emitted, are exceedingly nu- 
merous. M. Reanmur often eounted 70 or 80 in a 
single teat by means of a microseope, and conld per- 
ceive that there were infinitely more than he could! 
enumerate. It is eomputed that there are about 1000 
apertures in eaeh teat, and, as there are five teats, each’ 
thread of the spider eonsists of 5000 separate fibres, 
which are united at a very minute distance from the 
teats. 


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(Spinnerets of a Spider maguified to show the Spinnerules.] 


To give an idea of the wonderful tenmty of 


the 


a 


= 


1834.]__. 


thread of the full-grown insect, it has been computed 
that an ordinary human hair is as large as 10,000. But 
this is not— 


* «© The spider's most attenuated thread ;” 


for the young begin to spin as soon as they leave the 
ego; and how fine must the thread be whicl is drawn 
from the minute apertures in the teats of insects whose 
whole bulk does not equal that of a single teat of the 
mother! Leeuwenhoek calculates that, when the young 
spiders first begin to spin, 400 of them are not larger 
than one of full growth ; we may therefore presume, on 
the data of the preceding computation, that 4,000,000 of 
such threads do not exceed in bulk a single human 
hair. 

About the beginning of the last century, M. Bon, of 
JLanguedoc, having observed that a short-legged species 
of garden-spider enclosed its eves in bags composed of 
threads of much thicker and stronger texture than those 
which form the web, was led to think that they might 
be manufactured into a kind of silk. On making the 
experiment, he found that the threads could not be 
wound off, and he therefore had them carded with 
unusually fine cards. A silky substance of an ash 
colour was thus obtained that was easily spun into fine 
aud strong threads, which M. Bon caused to, be ‘ma- 
nufactured into gloves and hose, and found that three 
ounces of this material would make a pair of stockings 
for a large man whose common silk stockings weighed 
between seven and eight ounces. ‘The result of M. 
Bon’s experiment, and the actual production of the 
manufactured articles before the Royal Academy of 
Sciences, led to very sanguine expectations of the 
benefit which might be derived from these insects. But 
M. Reaumur, who was appointed by the Academy to 
investigate the subject, made a report which completely 
discouraged the expectations which had been raised. 
He stated that the natural ferocity of the spiders 
renders it impracticable to breed and keep them to- 
wether. He distributed 4000 or 5000 into different 
cells, in numbers varying in each cell from 50 to 200, 
and fed them with flies and the bloody ends of young 
feathers; but the smaller insects were soon devoured 
by the larger, so that in a short time there were but 
one or two left in each cell. ‘To this disposition in 
spiders of devouring one another, M. Reaumur at- 
tributes their comparative scarcity, considering the vast 
number of eggs they lay. It is thus impossible to 
establish the insects in a community; and, if it were 
practicable, more room and attention would be required 
than the produce would recompense. A much greater 
number of spiders than of silkworms would be ne- 
cessary to produce the same quantity of silk; and the 
bag of the spider is, after all, much inferior to that of 
the silkworm both in lustre and strength. M. Réau- 
miur computed that 2304 worms will produce a pound 
of silk ; and, as he considers the work of twelve spiders 
only equal to that of one silkworm, a pound of silk 
would require 27,648 spiders ; and as the females only 
form the bags to deposit their eges in, he supposes it 
would be necessary to have an equal number of males, 
so that, in order to obtain a quantity of silk equal to 
that furnished by 230-4 silkworms, it would be requisite 
to keep 55,296 spiders. 


« é 


THE BEDFORD LEVEL. 

Tue Bedford Level. is a vast tract, containine about 
400,000 acres of: low~land, extending into the six 
counties of Northamptonshire, Huntingdonshire, Cam- 
bridgeshire, Lincolnshire, Norfolk, and Suffolk,. bounded 
on all sides by high lands,’ which encompass it almost 
in the form of a horse-shoe. Peterborough Ien*, 

- Fen, in the old English or Saxon language, signifies dirt or 
mud, 


° D 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


] 83. 
Pay, 9 Diok 


which is.that part, of the Level running into North- 
amptonshire, and extending between Peterborough 
and Crowland, contains between 6000 and 7000 acres.’ 
One-seventh part of the Level is situated in Hunting-' 
donshire. Nearly the whole of the Isle of Ely, which 
forms the northern division of Cambridgeshire, consists 
of this marshy ground. The south-east part of Lin- 
colnshire,—usually termed Holland,—extending to the 
river Witham on the north, is a feuny district included 
in the Bedford Level: 63,000 acres are situated in 
Norfolk and 30,000 in Suffolk. ‘ 

There is abundant evidence to prove that this part of 
the country was formerly dry land, at a much lower 
level than the present surface. From the convulsions 
of nature, and subsequently owing to embankments 
improperly made, which prevented the waters from the 
uplands flowing into channels through which they 
might discharge themselves into the sea, the tract was 
at length reduced to the state of a morass, where the 
waters, stagnating and becoming: putrid, produced 
miasma destructive to the health of ‘the’ inhabitants ; 
while this extensive district became impassable even to 
boats, in consequence of the sedge, reed; and slime with 
which it was covered, .It is ‘conjectured, with every 
appearanve of probability, that this Level was, at the’ 
time of the ‘invasion of’ the Romans, one“of those great 
forests to which the Britons fled for ‘protection against ° 
their conquerors, whose policy it was to cut down the- 
trees, and to render bare those retreats and strongholds 
of the natives. = 

History records the heavy grievances of the Britons, 
who complained that their hands and bodies were worn 
out and consumed by the Romans, in ‘clearing the 
woods and embanking the fens. The Roman emperor, 
Severus, who died in the beginning of the third century 
of the Christian era, was the first who intersected these’ 
fens with causeways. One of -these was twenty-four 
miles long, extending from Denver, in Norfolk, to 
Peterborough. It was sixty feet broad, composed of 
oravel three feet in depth. This causeway is now 
covered with moor, from three to five feet in thickness. 
At that early period this low land, though damp, was 
by no means impassable; on the contrary, it appears 
that, up to the thirteenth century, the waters here 
usually flowed in natural channels, and had not de- 
vastated the surrounding country. Henry of Hunting 
don, who wrote in the time of King Stephen, describes 
this fenny country as “ very pleasant and agreeable to 
the eye,—watered by many rivers which run through 
it, diversified with many large and small Jakes,—and 
adorned with many woods and islands.” William of 
Malmesbury, who lived about the same period, also 
represents it as a perfect paradise, ‘‘ the very marshes 
abounding in trees whose length, without knots, do 
emulate the stars.” There was then no waste land in 
any part. On some spots there were apple-trees; in 
others, vines, which either spread upon the ground or 
ran along poles. 

Dugdale relates, on the authority of historians writing 
at the time in which the event happened, that in the 
year 1236, on the morrow after Martinmas Day, and 
for the space of eight days more, the winds were so 
boisterous that the sea was raised much higher than its 
usual bounds, and broke in at Wisbeach and other 
places of this district, so that many people and cattle, 
together with numerous small craft, were destroyed ; 
and those of the inhabitants who survived were reduced 
to great distress: . About seventeen years after this 
disaster, a similar accident again happened ; and the 
inhabitants were called upon, by command of the king, 
to repair the banks. This compulsory work was per- 
formed: but very inefficiently, for, within a few years, 
the sea-bariks were again broken by the violence of the 
tides,- | | 


134 


In the progress of draining the district, evidence has 
every where been found not only of previous vegetation, 
but that this spot had formerly been an inhabited 
country, which must have been suddenly overwhelmed 
by some violent convulsion of nature. In digging a 
little above Boston, in the year 1764, for the purpose 
of driving piles in the solid bottom, roots of trees were 
found at the depth of eighteen feet below the then 
pasturage surface, and these roots were so firm in the 
eround that some of them were obliged to be chopped 
to make room for piles. In making several channels 
for draining the isle of Axholm* great numbers of oak, 
fir, and other trees, were found lying in the moors, the 
fir from four to five feet deep, the oak about three feet 
below the surface. They were discovered lying near 
their roots, which still stood as they grew in firm earth 
below the moor. The bodies had fallen generally in 
a north-west direction from the roots. ‘Their appear- 
ance indicated that they had not been dissevered by the 
stroke of the axe but had been burnt asunder near the 
round, the ends still presenting a charred surface. 
The oaks were lying in multitudes, and of an extra- 
ordinary size, some beine five yards in circumference 
and sixteen yards long; others smaller, but of a great 
leneth, with a large quantity of acorns near them. 
Similar discoveries were made near ‘Thorney, near 
Lynn, and in many other places. 

When Sir R. Cotton was having a pool made at the 
edge of Conington Downs, Huntingdonshire, in the 
course of excavation the skeleton of a large sea fish was 
found considerably beneath the surface of the soul. In 
1635 a deeper channel was made to the Wisbeach river, 
and eight feet below the then bottom, another hard 
stony bottom was found, on which were lying seven 
boats covered with silt. On digging through the 
moor at Whittlesey, in the Isle of Ely, for the pur- 
pose of making a moat, at the depth of eight feet a 
perfect soil was found, with swaths of grass lying on 
it as they were first mowed. At Shirbeck sluice near 
Boston, a smith’s forge was discovered buried sixteen 
feet deep; the remains of several ancient tan-vats were 
likewise found, besides a. great quantity of horns, and 
some shoe soles of a very unusual form, being sharp- 
pointed, in the fashion of those worn in the reien of 
Richard IT. 

in 1436, the project of draining these fens engaged 
the attention of many persons of wealth and considera- 
tion in the country. Vast funds were expended in 
“making ditches and banks impreenable, as it was sup- 
posed, to all assaults from inundations; but the next 
winter being wet and windy, the river Ouse, with the 
accession of its tributary brooks, swelled into a mighty 
torrent, and swept away all the bulwarks opposed to 
its progress. ‘This accident is thus described in the 
quaint words of the narrator :—‘* Down comes the 
bailiff of Bedford, attended like a person of quality with 
many servants, and breaks down all their paper banks, 
as not water-proof, reducing all to their former condi- 
tion.” The total demolition of works, which were 
thought so excellent in design and execution, induced 
the speculators of that and succeeding ages to discuss 
the feasibility of the project, and many curious argu- 
ments were brought forward for and against the under- 
taking; an account of some of these may not, perliaps, 
be uninstructive. 

Some narrow-minded persons objected to the attempt 
on the plea of religion, as if it were displeasing in the 
sight of the Creator for his creatures to exercise the 
patience and ingenuity with which they have been en- 
dowed by Him. It was said, “‘ Hitherto shalt thou come, 
and no farther,” and it was therefore mistrusting God’s 
providence for man to presume to set any other bounds 


_ ™* The Isle of Axholm is on the north-west of Lincolnshire, and 
is included by the rivers Trent, Idle, and Dun, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| APRIL 5, 


to the water than those which “ God hath appointed.” 
On the other hand it was urged, that this objection 
only held good with regard to the ocean, “‘ which is a 
wild horse, orily to be’ broke, backed, and bridled by 
kira who is the maker thereof. It was a false and lazy 
principle if applied to fresh water, from the attacks of 
which, to defend the soil, human industry might be 
exerted with perfect propriety.” 

Another argument of the non-speculators was, that 
many had attempted, but none succeeded, in arrestin& 
this mighty assailant. ‘* None even wrestled with it 
but it gave them a foil Gf not a fall) to the bruising 
Gf not breaking) of their backs. Many have burnt 
their fingers in these waters, and instead of draining 
the fens have drained their pockets.” ‘I'o this it was 
answered, that the frequent failures in the undertaking 
did not prove its impracticability, but only the want 
of ability in desion and execution. 

A worthy alderman of Cambridge likened the fens 
to a crust of bread swimming ih a dish of water, as, 
under a depth of eight or ten feet of earth, the whole 
was nothing, he said, but mere water. The draining 
thereof was therefore impossible. It was affirmed by 
his opponents that interest had betrayed his judgement 
into an evident error, and that his brain, rather than 
this floating earth, seemed to swim. ‘The savans of 
Cambridge then urged that the Cam would have its 
stream dried up by the draining of the fens; and as 
Cambridge is concerned in its river, so the well-being 
of the whole country, yea, of the whole kingdom, is 
concerned in Cambridge and its University, and the 
stream of knowledge would be dried up with the stream 
of Cam. It was, therefore, hot reasonable that private 
men’s particular profit should be preferred before a 
universal good,—or the good of a university. Assu- 
rances were given that no damage should accrue to the 
river Cam; on the contrary, “ to take away the thief is 
not wasting nor weakening the wick of the candle.” 

Those who professed to be the poor man’s friends 
brought forward other objections. They said, that the 
fens were nurseries and seminaries of fish and fowl 
which would be destroyed by the draining; that the 
sedge, turf, and reed would likewise be destroyed, and 
that many thousand people then gained their livelihood 
by fishing and fowling in the fens, while the turf fur- 
nished fuel for the poor. ‘The answers to these objec- 
tions were forcibly though quaintly put. It was said, 
that a large first course, at any man’s table, compensates 
for his shorter second course ; and who would not prefer 
a tame sheep before a wild duck, and a good fat ox 
before a well-grown eel; while the people employed 
might turn their industry to a more profitable account. 
Lhe sedge, &c., would be replaced by good grass and 
grain. He cannot complain of wrong who hath a suit 
of buckram taken from him and one of velvet given 
instead thereof. 

A. parallel to this objection is stated by Sir John 
Herschel to exist at the present day in Holland. The 
great Haarlem Lake, which covers a surface of 40,000 
acres, might easily be drained, and Sir John has made 
a calculation * to show the practicability of the under- 
taking through the employment of pumps worked by 
means of steam-engines. ‘“* Hight or nine thousand 
chaldrons of coals,” says he, “‘ duly burnt, would 
evacuate the whole contents. But many doubt whether 
it would be profitable, and some, considering that a 
few hundred fishermen, who gain a livelihood on its 
waters, would be dispossessed, deny that it would be 
desirable.” 

It was then asserted, that even if these marshes could 
be drained, after vast difficulty and expense, they would 
quickly revert to their old cendition, like the Pontine 
marshes in Italy: the speculators, on the other hand, 

* * Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy,’ pp, 61, 62, 


1§34.] 


urged that moderate care would prevent this catastrophe. 
Well, said the objectors, grant them drained, where 
would be the advantage ? the rich man would jostle out 
the poor from their commons. Wherefore, it was 
answered, was this a necessary result? why should 
oppression be an essential accompaniment to draining 
or enclosing ? an equitable allotment would be made 
which would benefit the poor as well as the rich. 

All these ar guments fully impressed the generality 
of people with the opinion that the project was impos- 
sible, aud that it was only an idle dream of fanciful 
speculators. Perseverance and experience, joined to 
skill and ingenuity, have, however, brought to a suc- 
cessful issue many schemes which have “been deemed 
impossible; and much rich and productive land, by 
these united powers, have, in this instance, been broug ht 
into successful cultivation. Where the wild-fowl and oe 
fish once held undisputed sway, now graze in luxuriant 
pasturage the ox and the sheep; where the reed lifted 
its profitless head, now waves the golden harvest; the 
industry of man has reclaimed a great part, and is still 
constantly reclaiming more, of this once unhealthy and 
unprofitable morass. It would much exceed our present 
limits to give a detailed account of the various means 
taken to accomplish this arduous work. In the reign of 
Charles I., in the year 1634, William Earl of Bedford * 
undertook to drain these fens, stipulating to receive, as 
a compensation for the expense and trouble incurred, 
95,000 acres of the reclaimed land: 100,000/. were ex- 
pended i in the course: of three years in this endeavour, 
and the work was partially accomplished ; but the 
embankments proved defective, and the whole was 

avain allowed to lay waste until the year 1649, when 
the Earl once more attempted the task for his ronan 
share of 95,000 acres. Three hundred thousand pounds 
were then laid out in draining, embanking! &c., and 
this time with success, as far as rewarded the accom- 
plishment of the work, but to the ruin of those who 
had been admitted sharers, since the sum expended was 
much more than the 95,000 acres were worth. 

A regular system for continuing the draining and 
preserving the land already reclaimed, was now esta- 
blished ; and, in 1664, a company was incorporated 
for its management : this consisted of one governor, 
six bailiffs, and twenty conservators ; and, to the 
present day, the fens are managed and preserved by 
this corporation. “Numerous cuts have been made, in- 
tersecting every part; some of these are so large ‘and 
deep as to serve for navigable canais. In the Isle of 
Ely, the Old and New Bedford rivers are two cuts 
running nearly parallel to each other ;—these are both 
navigable for upwards of twenty miles from Erith to 
Denvers. Various expedients are used for the proper 
draining of the marshes: where the regular and com- 
mon means have failed, windmills have been erected 
which raise the water to the requisite height to admit of 
its being’ conveyed to receptacles sufficiently elevated, 
by which it may be carried off into its proper channel. 
- These numerous windmills give a strauge aspect to the 
Isle of Ely, where the towns and villag es are built on 
the most elevated spots, which appear like islands 
rising from amidst low and wet marshes. Recourse 
has been had to numerous projects to complete and 
secure thie drainage of the fens; and a vast expense 
has been incurred, ‘sometimes much greater than’ thie 
value of the land reclaimed. In Huntingdonshire, 
about the latter end of the last century, the tax raised 
on the land by the conservators, for its drainage and 
the preserving of its ements. was in some int 
stances so great, that the farmers preferred forieiting 
their land rather than paying so exorbitantly for its 
preservation. In the present day, the art of drainage 


* Whence it derives its name of the “ Bedford Level,’ 
® 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


-ever,-the precipice is not quite perpendicular, 


is better understood than when first this stupendous 
work was undertaken ; but even now, in many places, 

the farmer is still liable to have the produce of his 
srounds carried away by sudden inundations. The 
peculiar situation of the Level renders it the receiver of 
the waters of nine counties, and therefore it is difficult 
to provide a sufficient outlet to the sea by which the 
descending torrent may find a safe egress. The great 
error committed i in the commencement of ‘the drainage 
was the making numerous small cuts instead of lareer 
and deeper channels, by which, with the same inclina- 
tion of descent, the water would safely pour into the 
sea without any risk of overflowing its banks; since in 
a narrow and shallow channel, owine to the smaller 
force exercised by the lesser body of water, the bottom 
must be made at a much greater inclination to cause 
the free flowing of the stream. Great improvements 
are now, however, constantly being made in the drain- 
awe and embankment of this extensive tract of land, 
and the errors of former methods are, as far as possible, 
being remedied. 

The late Mr. Nimmo, in an excellent paper on drain- 
ing inserted in ‘ Brewster’s Edinburgh Encyclopedia,’ 
gives the following data on the subject of the relative 
inclination of streams prnnes ie to insure the discharge 
of their waters :— 

*‘ Large and deep rivers run sufficiently swift with a 

fall of about one foot per mile, or.........+0-- Lin 5000 

Smaller rivers and brooks run sufficiently swift with 


a fall of about two feet per mile, or ee 
Small brooks hardly keep an opel course under four 


1 in 2500 


ee#e¢¢¢e 


feet per mile, or ..... © peel. HBS - Lan 1200 
Ditches and covered drains require at least eight feet 
per mile, or oy ae bate sic wk tee Te 00 


Furrows of ridges and filled drains require much more.? 


SCRATCHELL’S BAY, ISLE OF WIGHT. 
Tue old topographical poet, Michael Drayton, says 
justly of the Isle of Wight, in his many-footed verses,— 


“ Of all the southern isles she holds the highest place, 
And evermore hath been the great’st in Britain’s grace.” 


He might, indeed, have made his ‘eulogy more un- 
qualified ; for there is certainly no other of the islets 
that border the British coasts which can pretend to vie 
in any respect with this “ gem of the ocean.” In 
beautiful and sublime scenery, much of it of a kind 
peculiar to itself, the Isle of Wight is surpassed by few 
spots on the globe. A considerable portion Of its coast 
presents an impregnable rampart, composed for the 
most part of cliffs of chalk, intermixed with flit or 
clay, and in many places rising to the height of some 
hundreds of feet above the waves that lash its base. 
Some of the most elevated of tlese rocks occur m the 
course of the range that extends in both directions from 
the west point of the island, forming Alum Bay to the 
north, and what are called the Freshwater Cliifs to the 
ae An indentation, much smaller than Alum Bay, 
immediately adjacent to this terminating Rpameptory 
on the south side, is known by the name of § sScratchell’s 
Bay. It is represented in our wood-cut to the right, as 
seen, along with the other objects to the west of it, 
from the front of the cave, the magnificent arch of 
which, 150 feet in height, forms the foreground of the 
picture. This is‘one of numerous caves which pierce 
the Freshwater Cliffs, and vary the extraordinary aspect 
of that vast wall of whiteness marked with parailel 
inclined lines of black, “‘ only to be compared,” to use 
the language of sir Henry Englefield, “to a ruled 
sheet of paper.” In many parts these cliffs are 4U9 
feet in height;—at one place, called Main Beaet 
their elevation is not less than 600 feet. Ilere, shows 
le 


sincular-looking rocks that are seen rising out of 


136 


the water beyond the promontory ‘are the celebrated. 
Needles, a name, however, which they seem to have 
derived chiefly from one of their number, much taller 
than any of those now remaining, which has long dis- 
appeared. It fell suddenly in the year 1764. Sir 
Richard Worseley, in his ‘* History of the Isle of 
Wight,’ states, that 1t was about 120 feet in height 
above low water mark, and much more like a needle in 
shape than any of those that now-remain. A repre- 
sentation of the Needles, as they formerly appeared, is 
eiven in that work. : 

Scratchell’s Bay, and all the neighbouring ‘cliffs, are 
frequented by vast swarms of -sea-fowls,;which the 
country. people are “in the habit of catching by the 
hazardous method, practised also in the Shetland and 
the Feroe Islands, of being swung over the brow of the 
rock by a rope made fast in the earth above. Worseley 
enumerates ipuilins, razorbills, willocks, gulls, cormo- 
rants,’ Cornish choughs, daws, starlings, and ‘wild 
pigeons, as among the.species that frequent the rocks, 
and lodge in the shelving strata. Some remain con- 
stantlyr here; , others come’ only to lay their’ eggs, 
“They ‘sit,’ says the writer. just quoted, “in thick 
rows,.and discover themselves’ by their motions, though 
not individually visible.’ From these retreats they 
are driven or frightened away by the~ stick of the ad-- 
venturous bird-catcher. ‘When Worseley wrote (178)h),. 


the soft feathers obtained from a dozen birds were sold>| 


a 


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THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 





Tey - we 
[Aprin 5, 1834. 
for eightpence ; and the carcasses were then disposed 
of, at the rate of a’ halfpenny each, to fishermen, who 


‘used them for bait to their crab-pots. 


“Scratchell’s Bay is often visited by tourists.’ The 
most magnificent view down into it, Sir Henry Enele- 
field says, is obtained by descending a very steep 
grassy slope, to the edge of one of the cliffs in the 
neighbourhood, and from this point the whole of the 
Needles may be seen; but he advises strangers not to 
attempt to find their way down without taking a guide 
along with them. «In his splendid folio, ‘entitled ‘ A 
Description of the Isle of Wight,’ (London; 1816,) Sir 
‘Henry‘has given various views of the scenery in the 


neighbourhood of this spot. ‘‘ Nothing canbe more 


interesting,” he remarks, “ particularly to those who take 


pleasure in aquatic excursions, than to sail between and 
round the Needles.’ The wonderfully coloured cliffs of 
‘Alum Bay, the lofty and towering chalk precipices of 
‘Scratchell’s Bay, of the: most dazzling whiteness and 
the most elegant forms, the magnitude and singularity 
of ‘the spiry, insulated masses, which seem‘ at every 
‘instant to be shifting their situations, and give a mazy 
‘perplexity to the place,‘the screaming noise of the 
‘aquatic birds, the agitation of the sea, and the rapidity 
of the tide, occasioning not unfrequently a slight degree 
of danger, all these circumstances combine to raise in 
‘the mind unusual emotions, and to give to the scene a 


character highly singular, and even romantic.” 





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THE PENN 


Y MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 








130.1. 






PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


fAprit 12, 1834, 


POMPEY’'S PILLAR. 


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ScaRcELY any one of the monuments of antiquity is 
involved in so much mystery and uncertainty, or has 
afforded so wide a field for conjecture and the specula- 
tions of the scientific, as that known by the name of 
Pompey’s Pillar; yet it is not one of those relics that 
have only recently been brought to light, but, on the 


contrary,'is so intrusively visible as to be descried for. 
miles around; and is one of the first objects’ discerned. 


by ships making this part of the ‘coast of Egypt, which 
is everywhere very low. All travellers agree’ that its 
present appellation is a misnomer; yet it is known 
that a monument of some kind was erected at Alex- 
andria to the ‘memory of Pompey, which was supposed 
to have been found in this remarkable column. Mr. 
Montague thinks it was erected to the honour of Ves- 
pasian, Savary calls it the Pillar of Severus, Clarke 
supposes it to have been dedicated to Hadrian, according 
to his reading of a half-effaced inscription in Greek on 
Vou. III. | 


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the west side of the base; while others trace the name 
of Diocletian in the same inscription. No mention oc- 
curring of it either in Strabo or Diodorus Siculus, we 
may safely infer that it did not exist at that period ; 
and Denon supposes it to have .been erected about the 
time of the Greek emperors or-of the caliphs of Egypt, 
and dates its acquiring its present name in the fifteenth 
century.. With regard to the inscription, we may ob- 
serve, that it.might have been added after the erection 
of the column.------ - 

- Pompey’s Pillar stands on a small eminence about 
midway between the walis of Alexandria and the 
shores of lake Mareotis, about three-quarters of a mile 
from either, and quite detached from any other build- 
ing. Itisof red granite; but the shaft, which is highly 
polished, appears to be of earlier date than the capital 
or pedestal, which have been made to correspond, It, 
‘s of the Corinthian order; and while some have eu- 


T 


138 


logized it as the finest specimen of that order, others 
have pronounced it to be in bad taste. The capital is 
of palm leaves, not indented. ‘The column consists 
only of three pieces,—the capital, the shaft, and the 
base,—and - is ‘poised on-a centre stone of breccia, with 
hieroglyphics on it, less than a fourth of the dimensions 
of the pedestal of the column, and with the smaller end 
downward ; from which circumstance the Arabs believe it 
to have been placed there by God. ‘The earth about the 
foundation has been examined, probably in the hopes of 
finding treasures ; and pieces of white marble (which 
is not found in Egypt) have been discovered connected 
to the breccia above mentioned. It is owing, probably, 
to this disturbance that the pillar has an inclination of 
about seveu inches to the south-west. 


visiters, who have indulged a puerile pleasure in pos- 
sessing and giving to their friends small fragments of 
the stone, and is defaced by being danbed with names 


of persons, which would otherwise have slumbered un- 


known to all save in their own narrow sphere of action ; 
practices which cannot be too highly censured, and 
which an enlightened mind would scorn to be guilty of. 
It is remarkable, that while the polish on the shaft is 
still perfect to the northward, corrosion has begun to 
affect the southern face, owing probably to the winds 
passing over the vast tracts of sand in that direction. 
The centre part of the cap-stone has been hollowed out, 
forming a basin on the top; and pieces of iron stl 
remaining in four holes prove that this pillar was once 
ornamented with a figure, or some other trophy. 

The operation of forming a rope-ladder to ascend the 
column has been performed several times of late years, 
and is very simple: a kite was flown, with a string to 
the tail, and, when directly over the pillar, it was 
drawged down, leaving the line by which it was flown 
across the capital. With this a rope, and afterwards a 
stout hawser, was drawn over; a man then ascended 
and placed two more parts of the hawser, all of which 
were pulled tight down to a twenty-four-pounder gun 
lying near the base (which it was said Sir Sidney 
Smith attempted to plant on the top); small spars 
were then lashed aeross, commencing from the bottom, 
and ascending each as it was secured, till the whole 
was complete, when it resembled the rigging of a ship’s 
lower masts. The mounting this solitary column re- 
quired some nerve, even in seamen; but it was still 
more appalling to see the ‘Turks, with their ample 
trowsers, venture the ascent. The view from this 
height is commanding, and highly interesting in the 
associations :excited by gazing on the ruins of the 
city of the Ptolemies, lying beneath. A theodolite was 
planted there, and a round of ‘terrestrial angles taken ; 
but the tremulous motion of the column affected the 
quicksilver in the artificial horizon so much as to pre- 
elude the possibility of obtaining an observation for the 
satitude. 

Various admeasurements have been given of the 
“imensions of Pompey’s Pilar; the following, however, 
were taken by a gentleman who assisted in the opera- 
tion above described :-— 

Feet In. 

‘Pop of the capital to the astragal (one stonc). 10 4 

Astragal to first plinth (one stone) .... 67 7 

Plinth to the ground ......cec0..-- «aenoen ti 


ee © 6 @ 





Whole height 93 f0 





Measured by a hne from the top 99 4 

It will be remembered, however, that the pedestal of 

the column does not rest on the ground, 

Its elevation being... vee 4 0 
The height of the column itself is therefore.. 94 10 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


This column_ 
has sustained some trifling injury at the hands of late 


fAprin 12, 


Feet In. 
Diagonal of the capital....s.se.sececeee. 16 Il 


Circumference of shaft (upper part) ....... 24 2 
- > ‘lower part)” *. Fees 2 
Length of side of the pedestal eae te evenona 16 6 


The two readings of the inscription are as follow :— 

“To Diocletianus Augustus, most adorable Emperor, 
tutelar deity of Alexandria,—Pontius, Prefect of Egypt, 
dedicates this.” 

“‘ Posthumus, Prefect of Egypt, and the people of 
the metropolis, (honour) the most revered Emperor, 
the protecting divinity of Alexandria, the divine Ha- 
drian Augustus.” 

Of these readings, which certainly have but little re- 
semblance, the former is considered the better. It will be 
recollected that some of the characters cannot be traced 
at all, and others but faintly; and the various ways of : 
supplying the deficiencies, according to the ideas of 
the advocates of either, will account for the very wide 
difference that exists between them. 


~ 





THE PARSEES. 


Havina, in a preceding Number, given an account of 
the ** Place of Fire,” near Bakou, in Shirwan, we have 
been led to think that our readers would not be un- 
interested by some information concerning the very 
singular people by whom these fires are regarded with 
devotion, and to which ,they make pilgrimages. The 
habits and practices of the Parsees are, however, so 
much the result of peculiar opinions, that, to make the 
account intelligible, it becomes necessary to state the 
principles of their religious system,—a system which, 
although long prevalent throughout the Persian empire 
in its state of greatness, is now only professed by a sect 
few in number, and who, like the Armenians and Jews, 
are a dispersed people, oppressed in the countries once 
their own, and, therefore, found chiefly in the lands of 
strangers, 

In very early periods there existed in Persia a system 
of religion which we call by the name of Magianism. 
In its early form, this system endeavoured to account 
for the presence of evil by teaching the existence of two 
ereat and coeva!l principles, or beings, who were, re- 
spectively, the authors of all the good and evil in the 
world. Light was considered to contain more of the 
rood principle—to symbolize its presence better than 
any other element or object ; and, therefore, a religious 
homage was paid to the sun as the most perfect source 
of light :—not,-as the Magians were careful to explain, 


that they adored the sun, but the good principle whose 


presence it manifested. In these early times the Per- 
sians had no temples, but worshipped upon their moun- 
tains, because, by a building, the beams of the sun 
would be wholly or partially excluded. 

In the course of time these simple doctrines became 
corrupted, or nearly lost, when Zoroaster, whom the 
Persians call Zerdusht, arose, at a period by no means 
distinctly ascertained, but probably in the reign of 
Darius Hystaspes, and ultimately succeeded in restoring 
the old belief in a form somewhat modified and im- 
proved. He did not disturb the doctrine of two go- 
verning existences,—the one good and the ether evil, 
—hbut he especially taught the pre-eminence of one 
supreme being, called, in the ‘ Desatir,’ “ Mezdan.” 
Zoroaster ‘also, without disturbing the ancient rever- 
ence for the sun, seems to have first introduced the 
worship of fire, that the believers, when the sun was 


obscured, might not be without the symbol of the 
divine presence. 


For this purpose he furnished a fire 
which he pretended to have obtained from heaven, 
and from which the sacred fires in all the places of 
Magian worship were kindled. ‘This introduction 
led to the erection of temples in which the sacred fire 


~ 


1934,] 


might be preserved. The Parsees pretend that the 
fires which now burn in their temples have been propa- 
gated from that which Zoroaster supplied, and which 
has never yet been lost, although often only preserved 
by miracles from extinction. The temple fires were 
cherished with great care and respect. ‘They were only 
fed with certain woods accounted particularly pure, and 
deprived of the bark; and were never blown, either 
with bellows or by the breath, Indeed, the Mae never 
approached the sacred fire but with covered mouths, 
lest it should be defiled by their breathing ; and to cast 
an unclean thing upon it, or otherwise to pollute i 
was a crime punished with death. Besides this reve- 
rence paid to fire, a certain respect was entertained for 
the other elements, which they were also careful not to 
pollute. Hence their peculiar custom in the disposal of 
the dead; for they considered: that the fire would be 
defiled if,they were burned, the earth if they were 
interred, aud the water if they were submerged. ‘The 
bodies of the dead were, therefore, exposed on towers 
or platforms until reduced to skeletons by birds of prey, 
and by the natural progress of decomposition : the bones 
then seem to have been collected, enclosed in jars, and 
deposited in barrows, or large mounds of earth. Its 
said that they drew conclusions concerning the condition 
of the deceased in another state of existence, from 
observing what part of the body was first attacked by 
the birds. 

These opinions and practices continued to prevail in 
Persia until the conquest of that country by the 
Arabians, who were actuated by a particularly bitter 
enmity to the worshippers of fire. At the present time 
the term. “ Gaur” (infidel) is applied, in a general 
way, to all who are not Moslems, in Turkey and other 
Mahomedan countries; but in Persia, when simply 
used, it is always so understood of the Parsees as to 
become, in effect, a proper name. On the subjection 
of the country to the Arabians, the bulk of the nation 
probably embraced the faith of the conquerors, and 
most of the remainder were obliged, by the persecution 
they suffered, to emigrate. ‘The small number now in 
that country are found chiefly in the great commercial 
city. of Yezd, in the sandy and sterile province of 
Kerman. They have there, been permitted to erect 
a fire-temple, in which they say the sacred fire of 
Zerdusht is preserved, and they are allowed a magis- 
trate of their own. But in return for these privileges, 
heavy taxes are extorted from them; and the Gaurs 
eenerally are regarded with the utmost aversion and 
contempt by the present race of Persians, who do not 
hesitate to propagate the most absurdly horrible stories 
of this really quiet and inoffensive people,—accusing 
them of eating children, and other.enormities. 

But the great body of the Parsees, to the number of 
120,000 families, reside within the limits of the British 
Presidency of Bombay ; and they contribute the large pro- 
portion of 6000 families to the population of the capital. 
The British government in India does not possess a 
body of more useful, wealthy, and well-behaved subjects 
than the Parsees; nor has any other class of natives 
connected itself so intimately with the English. The 
habits of this people do not oppose such barriers as 
obstruct a free intercourse with Hindoos and Maho- 
mmedans. They have no castes,—they eat all kinds of 
food,—they drink wine, and have but one wile. The 
wealthier families have adopted much of the English 
manner of life, and the sons are taught the English 
language. Almost every European house of trade in 
Bombay has a Parsee partner, who frequently furnishes 
the principal part of the capital. Nearly all the island of 
Bombay belongs to the Parsees. They are exceedingly 
munificent in their charities, relieving the poor and 
distressed of all tribes, and supporting their own poor 
in sc liberal a mayner that 9 Parsee beggar is un- 


/ 
THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


at, Bombay under British patronage. 


139 


known. The more opulent are merchants, ship-owners, 
and extensive land-holders; while the humbler orders are 
cultivators, weavers, shop-keepers, and follow most of 
the mechanic arts except those connected with fire. In 
consequence of their scruples in this respect, there are 
among ‘them ‘no silversmiths, or other workers of the 
metals; and the use of fire-arms being abhorrent to 
their principles, none are soldiers. As they concur with 
their ancestors in the dislike of a seafaring life, none of 
them are sailors ;—in them this is probably a matter of 
principle, but it is singular that the modern Mahomedan 
Persians participate fully in this feeling, and, indeed, 
retain among them more indications of the ancient 
religion than they would like to be told. We may, as 
instances, mention that the fieure of the sun is still 
impressed on some Persian coins; and a festival is still 
observed which was originally instituted in honour of 
that luminary. This account of the present condition 
of the Parsees shows that they have greatly prospered 
under the English government ; for, about a century 
since, ‘the Parsees of India were represented by tra- 
vellers as being in a very degraded and depressed con~ 
dition; and, until of late years, they have been very 
much misunderstood and misrepresented. 

The Parsee population is divided into clergy and 
laity (Mobed and Bodeen). ‘The clergy and _ their 
descendants are very numerous, and distinguished from 
the laity by weaving a white turban; but they follow 
all kinds of occupations, except a few who are par- 
ticularly selected for the service of the churches. 
These are plain and unornamented buildings, crowded 
every day by the clergy, but attended by the laity only 
on certain days. ‘The mass of the people have, with the 
dress, adopted many of the Hindoo customs, and the 
language of Guzerat ; and very few are acquainted with 
the language of their original country, or study the 
history of their race. 4 | 
- The modern Parsees retain most of the practices and 
opinions of the ancient Magians. At Bombay they may 
be seen, every morning and evening, crowding to the 
esplanade to salute the sun at its appearance and 
departure. They observe very nearly the ancient mode 
in the disposal of the dead. ‘The bodies are exposed 


on a stone platform, inclosed by high walls, and are 


soon consumed by birds of prey. The bones are col- 
lected in a sort of well, in the centre of the platform, to 
which there is access by a subterraneous passage to 
facilitate the occasional removal of the bones. No 
strangers are allowed to witness the obsequies, or, in- 
deed, to examine the platforms, of which there are five 


in the island of Bombay, but not all in use. Opulent 


persons have for their families private sepulchres of a 
similar construction. As amatter of principle, it does 
not appear necessary that the bodies should be exposed 
to any other action than that of the elements, fur in 
some private sepulchres the services of the birds of prey 
are dispensed with, and their ingress prevented by an 
iron grating. 

The sacred book of the Parsees is called the Zenda- 
vesta, and claims Zoroaster for its author. In many 
particulars it coincides so remarkably with the Hebrew 
Scriptures as to countenance the conjecture that, if 
really of such antiquity as it pretends to, the author 
had obtained a knowledge of the Jewish religion from 
Daniel, or some other of the Jewish captives at Babylon 
and Susa. The Parsees of India have, of late years, 
exhibited considerable anxiety to acquire information 
concerning the religious practices and opimons of their 
ancestors ; and, in arder to obtain it, by collecting books 
and otherwise, they have sent occasionally intelligent 
persons to Persia. By this means, they, some years ago, 
obtained a copy of the ° Desatir,’ which, with an English 
version made by a Parsee priest, has been printed 


The book pos- 
‘Te 


140 


cesses considerable interest; but, although it pretends 
to high antiquity, contains internal evidence of having 
been written at a period considerably later than the 
conquest of Persia by the Arabians. As the work 1s 
very rarc in this country, it may not be amiss to quote 
the commencement as a specimen :— | 

“Tet us take refuge with Mezdin from evil thoughts 
which mislead and afflict us. In the name of Shemta, 
the bountiful, the beneficent, the kind, the just! In 
the name of Lareng! The origin of Mezdan’s being 
who can know? Except himself, who can comprehend 
it? Existence, and unity, and identity are inseparable 
properties of his original substance, and are not ad- 
ventitious to him. He is without beginning, or end, or 
associate, or foe, or like unto him, or father or mother, 
or wife, or child, or place, or position, or body, or any- 
thing material, or colour, or smell. He is living, and 
wise, and powerful, and independent, and just; and his 
knowledge ‘extends over all that is heard, or seen, or 
that exists: and all existence is visible to his know- 
ledge at once, without time; and from him nothing is 
hid. He doth not evil, and dwelleth not with the evil- 
inclined: whatsoever he doeth is good.” 


MAHOMET II. 


Manomer II., the Turkish emperor, surnamed “ the 
Great” and “ the Victorious,” was born at Adrianople, 
in the year 1430, and was first called to the Othman 
throne in the thirteenth year of his age, by the voluntary 
abdication of his father, Amurath If. But in the year 
following (1444), the welfare of the empire, which was 
menaced by the King of Hungary, recalled Amurath to 
the head of the army and of the government until the 
danger was over-past, when he- again withdrew from 
public life. Four months after this second abdication, 
a revolt of the janizaries, and the warlike preparations 
of Christian princes, apprized Amurath that the reins 
of empire had been confided to hands not yet strong 
eiough to guide them. Controlling, therefore, his 
desire for retirement, he resumed the sovereign power, 
and retained it until his death in 1451. On both these 
occasions Mahomet resigned the supreme authority into 
his father’s hands without a murmur; but he never 
forgave the ministers by whom the measure had been 
advised, al 7 oe 

He commenced his new reign by some acts of cruelty 
in the interior of the seraglio, Under the pretext of 
assuring his own repose and that of the empire, he 
caused to be destroyed his young brother, whom Amu- 
rath, in his last moments, had earnestly recommended 
to his kindness and protection; and tlien, to appease 
the cries and the despair of the poor child’s mother, he 
delivered up to her vengeance the person by whom his 
sanguinary order had been executed. | 

We do not think our readers would be much interested 
if we traced the progress of this famous monarch in that 
career of conquest which commenced very soon after his 
accession to the throne, and in which he is flatteringly 
described as having won two empires, twelve kingdoms, 
and upwards of two hundred cities, and certainly esta- 
blished a claim to a place not the lowest among those 
whom it is the custom to call Great.” We shall, 
therefore, limit our account to those operations which 
transferred to the Turkish dominion the capital of the 
Christian Empire in the East. 

On his accession, Mahomet renewed the peace with 
the Greek Emperor, Constantine, to whom, at the same 
time, he agreed to pay a pension for the expenses and 
safe custody of his uncle Orcan, who had, at a previous 
period, withdrawn to the court of Constantinople for 
safety. ‘The carelessness of the sultan in the observance 


of this clause of the treaty excited the complaints of the, 


oo 


THE PENNY: MAGAZINE. 


fAPkiL 12, 


emperor, with the imprudent threat that, unless the 
pension were regularly paid, he would no longer detain 
Orcan. This threat seems to have afforded the sultan a 
pretext for rekindling the war. Had that been wanting, 
he would, doubtless, soon have found some other ; for 
the beautiful city designed at its foundation to be the 
capital of the civilized world, and within whose walls the 
‘Empire of the East” was almost confined by the en- 
croachments of the Turks, had lone been an object of 
desire to that ambitious nation, and they had previously 
made attempts to obtain possession of it. Mahomet, 
therefore, determined to complete the conquest of the 
feeble empire by the capture of Constantinople ; and to 
terminate by one terrible catastrophe the strife of many 
aces between the Moslems and the Greeks. He com- 
menced his operations by building a fortress on the Ku- 
ropean bank of the Bosphorus,—about six miles from 
Constantinople,—opposite another which his grandfather 
had erected on the Asiatic’ shore. ‘This he furnished 
with troops and formidable artillery, one piece of which, 
cast in brass by an Hungarian engineer, could carry a 
ball of 600 Ibs. weight to a distance of 2000 yards. 
The sultan was thus enabled to close the entrance of the 
Black Sea against the Latins, by which the commerce 
of Constantinople was ruined, and its inhabitants, whose 
principal supplies of food were drawn from that quarter, 
threatened with starvation. Every preliminary measure 
having been completed, Mahomet at length appeared 
before Constantinople, on the 2nd of April, 1453, at 
the head of an army of 300,000 men, supported by a 
formidable artillery, and by a fleet of 320 sail, mostly 
store-ships and transports, but including 18 gallies of 
war, while the besieged could not muster more than 
10,000 effective soldiers for the defence. ‘This vast 
disparity of force leaves little room for admiring the 
prowess and military skill of the victorious party. 
The sultan himself superintended all important ope- 
rations; and whilst he punished the slightest dis- 
obedience with instant death, he was not sparing in 
magnificent promises of reward to stimulate his troops 
to exertion. He pledged himself that, when the city 
should be taken, he would give it up for three days to 
their pillage, reserving to himself the buildings only. 
This promise had great effect upon the men, each of 
whom hoped to be enriched by the spoil. But the be- 
siered made so vigorous a defence under the brave Km- 
peror Constantine Palzologus, that for fifty-three days 
all the efforts of the assailants were unavailing. ‘The 
defenders of the city had drawn strong iron chains 
across the entrance of the port, and Mahomet saw, that 
unless he could get some of his vessels into the Golden 


‘Horn*, his success was doubtful, and that at best the 


defence might ‘be greatly protracted. He, therefore, 
contrived to conduct a part of his fleet for ten miles over 
the land on a sort of rail-way, from the Bosphorus into 
the harbour; and caused a floating battery to be con- 
structed and occupied with cannon. ‘This sealed the fate 
of the imperial city. Constantinople was taken by storm 
on the 29th of May ; and the last Emperor of the East 
was killed, sword in hand, in the breach by which the 
enemy entered.’ According to the promise of the sultan, 
the inhabitants and their property were left for three days 
at the disposal of his army. ‘The terrified people fled to 
the cathedral of St. Sophia, and other sacred places, for 
safety, many hoping that the barbarians would not 
violate such sanctuaries, and most expecting that a 
miracle would be interposed in their behalf. The closed 
doors were broken with axes; but the Turks are not, 
even by their enemies, accused of an immoderate or 
wanton effusion of Christian blood. As they encountered 
no resistance, they were content to select from the 
multitude those whose appearance afforded promise of 


“ The reader will find a plan of Constantinople in No, 24 of the 
‘Penny Magazine, which will elucidate this account. 


1884.] 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


14) 


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[Mahomet IT., from a Drawing tn the British Museum, by Gentile Bellini.) 


a profitable ransom or sale as slaves. The male captives 
they bound with cords, and the females with their veils 
and girdles, and drove them, to the number of 60,000, 
irom the’ city to the camp or fleet, where they who 
could not obtain the means of purchasing their ransom 
were exchanged or sold, aecording to the caprice or 
interest of their masters. . 

On the expiration of the three days allowed for 
pillage, Mahomet entered Constantinople {n triumph, 
attended by his viziers, pashas, and guards. ‘“* At the 
principal gate of St. Sophia he alighted from his horse, 
and such was his jealous regard for that monument of 
his glory, that, on observing a zealous Mussulman in 
the act of breaking up the marble pavement, he ad- 
monished him with his scimitar that if the spoil and the 
captives were granted to the soldiers, the public and 
private buildings had been reserved for the prince. By 
his command, the metropolis of the Eastern church was 


transformed into a mosque: the crosses were thrown 
down, and the walls, which were covered with images 
and mosaics, were washed and purified, and restored to 
n state of naked simplicity. On the same day, or on 
the ensuing Friday, the muezzin, or crier, ascended the 
most lofty turret, and proclaimed the ezan, or public 
invitation to prayer in the name of God and the 
Prophet; the imaum preached; and Mahomet II. per- 
formed the namaz of prayer and thanksgiving on the 
great altar where the Christian mysteries had so lately 
been celebrated before the last of the Cesars. From 
St. Sophia he proceeded to the august but desolate 
mansion of a hundred successors of the great Constan- 
tine; but which in a few hours had been stripped of 
the pomp of royalty. A melancholy reflexion on the 
-'uissitudes of human ereatness forced itself upon his 
ynind, and he repeated an elegant distich of Persian 


poetry :—~* The spider has wove hig web in {he impertal 


142 


palace ; and the owl hath sung her watch-song on the 
towers of Afrasiab.’ ”’—Gibbon. 

The conflicting statements of the Greek and ‘Turkish 
historians render it difficult to form a correct judgment 
of the sultan’s conduct to the vanquished, or of his 
character in general. ‘The most probable conclusion is 
that the fierceness engendered by the strife of war soon 
eave place to human sympathies. ‘That he was terribly 
severe when his clemency was abused, or his mandates 
disobeyed, and cruel when his interest stimulated, we 
have abundant evidence to show; but that gratuitous 
cruelty which the Greeks attribute to him is not clearly 
proved, nor does it consist with the cultivated mind and 
refined tastes which even his enemies tell us he pos- 
sessed. It is certain that he caused the body of Con- 
stantine, which was discovered under a heap of slain by 
the golden eagles embroidered on the shoes, to be 
honourably interred. He declared himself the friend 
and father of the vanquished people: he paid to his 
soldiers the ransom of several of the principal captives ; 
and although many of the noblest of the Greeks were 
soon after butchered in the principal square of the city, 
there is room to suspect that this was in punishment of 
a conspiracy against him. Having determined to make 
the conquered city the capital of his empire, he induced 
the remnant of its inhabitants to return by promises of 
safety and protection which were not violated. Half 
the churches in the city were made over to their use; 
and the sultan gave to their patriarch a solemn inyesti- 
ture after the manner of the Greek emperors. 

Having thus related somewhat in detail the most 
splendid circumstance in the life of Mahomet IL, 
we spare our readers the enumeration of the victories 
which established his dominion from the Euphrates 
to the Adriatic, as well as the various checks which 
his arms received from Tiunniades and Scanderbeg,— 
from the Knights of Rhodes and from the Persian 
king, in an expedition against whom he died, in the 
year 1481, being the fifty-first of his age; and at a 
time when he had filled Europe with new consternation 
by the recent siege and sack of Otranto in Naples, and 
the threatened subjection of Italy and Rome to his 
power. When dying, he directed the words * I would 
have taken Rhodes, and conquered Italy,” to be en- 
eraved on his tomb, probably in order to stimulate his 
successors to fulfil his intentions. , | 

In characterizing this celebrated prince, we shall adopt, 
with some modifications, the statement of Gibbon. 
Under the tuition of the skilful masters provided by his 
father, Mahomet advanced with an early and rapid 
progress in the paths of knowledge; and besides his 
native tongue it is affirmed that he spoke or understood 
five languages,—the Arabic, Persian, Hebrew, Latin, 
and Greek. With geography and history he was well 
acquainted ; and the lives of the heroes of the Hast, 
and perhaps of the West, excited his emulation. - His 
skill in astrology is excused by the folly of his time and 
people, and implies some acquaintance with mathe- 
matical science; while his taste for the arts is indicated 
by his liberal invitation and reward of the painters of 
Italy. lis sobriety is attested by the silence of the 
Turkish historians, who accuse only three of their sultans 
of the vice of drunkenness; and it is-related that he cul- 
tivated his gardens with his own hands, and sold part of 
the produce to purchase the other articles required for 
his table. But, with all these evidences: of his high 
merit, there can be no doubt that the circumstances 
of his life often indicated passions at once inexorable 
and furious. ‘ He was,doubtless a soldier,” says: Gib- 
bon, ‘and possibly a general; but if we compare the 
means, the obstacles, and the achievements, Mahomet IT. 

siust blush to sustain a parallel with Alexander and 
Timour.” 


Our wood-cut is taken from a drawing of Mahomet IT. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE: 


executed by Gentile Bellini. ‘The drawing is in the 
British Museum, forming one of Mr. Payne Knight’s 
collection. The sultan having apphed to the Venetian 
government to send him a skilful painter, this artist 
was selected for the purpose, and proceeded to Constan- 
tinople. He was well received by Mahomet, for whom 
he painted several pictures, and was, on his departure, 
presented with a chain and collar of gold, and a purse 
of 3000 ducats. We laugh now at the fable that the 
sultan, having noticed a defect in the painting of a head 
recently separated from the body, purposely struck off the 
head of a slave to demonstrate to Bellini the truth of 
his criticism. Gentile, on his return to Venice, executed 
some engravings of his own works on metal. Asa 
painter, he possessed considerable talent, although the 
dry and hard style of his works is unpleasing. He 
eave the labits of Turks and Venetians to the charac- 
ters he represented, but he excelled in the Turkish 
costume. Bellini died at Venice in the year 1501. 


qe 


A DEPRAVED HABIT CURED, AND A FALSE 
PREJUDICE OVERCOME, 


[From a Correspondent. ]} 


A DISTINGUISHED engineer brought with him from 
Scotland a stone-mason to be employed on a great 
national work. The man had many good qualities, but 
he had one besetting sin:—he regularly got drunk 
every Saturday night, and the Sunday was devoted either 
to the alehouse, or spent in bed to recover from the 
effects of intoxication. His work, however, was never 
neglected, On the Monday morning he was always at 
his post, and continued there throughout the week. 
The pay-table first taught him to drink, and hence the 
Sunday became to him a day of degradation. On one 
occasion he was tempted to trespass on the middle of 
the week, and to spend part of a day in an alehouse. 
A few weeks after another half day was wasted in the 
sume manner; and, as the downward steps of vice are 
often imperceptible, he gradually crept on from half a 
day to a whole day, until-at last two entire days were 
weekly devoted to drinking. The engineer had more 
than once spoken to him of his Saturday night’s 
potations, and expostulated with him on his conduct. 
Seeing, however, that hours formerly devoted to work 
were now thus wasted with dissolute companions, he 
one day said to him, * Robert, you know I brought 
you from Scotland, and placed you in a situation which 
enabled you to obtain very good wages. But you have 
not improved its advantages as you ought, and latterly 
you have not been contented with drinking on the 
Saturday night, but have encroached on the week, and 
your work is now seriously neglected. I find that you 
now spend not less than seven shillings weekly, and I 
perceive that your wife and children do not exhibit 
their accustomed neatness and order. I have formed 
a decided resolution: You must either abandon drink- 
ine, and deposit’ with me a portion of the sum you 
usually spend at the alehouse, or leave the works.” 
Robert was startled :—he had feelings, aud all traces of 
eood principle were not gone. Me begged time to 
consider; and at length pledged his word to abandon 
the alehouse altogether, and to leave three shillings a, 
week in the hands of his employer. That judicious 


friend applauded his resolution, and administered a few 


words of comfort and advice, which a kind heart has 


always at command and knows so well how to apply. 


He said, ‘I will deposit your weekly sum in the savings’ 
bank.” ‘ No,” said Robert, ‘‘ I have no objection to 
deposit the money with you, Sir; but I consider the 
establishment of savings’ banks to be an attempt of the 
rovernment to get the money of the poor into their own 
hands.” The engineer reasoned with him on the 
absurdity of such a supposition; explained the real 


1834.) 


character of those useful institutions :—that they were 
expressly designed to benefit the working classes; and 
that the money deposited in them was perfectly safe, 
and every shilline gained interest. Robert was in- 
flexible. He had imbibed against savings’ banks a 
prejudice which could not be shaken. He could resolve 
to leave the alehouse and the skittle-ground; and he 
could, with satisfaction, intrust his money in the hands 
of the engineer,—but it must not be deposited in the 
savines’ bank, | | 

From that time Robert was so constantly at his 
work, and exhibited such sober and regular habits, as 
in a short time fully re-established him in the confi- 
dence and esteem of his employer. Even on the 
Saturday nights he was no longer to be found at the 
alehouse; and his Sunday leisure was employed ina 
befitting manner. His whole appearance became 
altered, and everything about him denoted a reformed 
man. Several years had passed without any relapse 
into his former habits, when the engineer called him 
one day into the office, and inquired if he had kept any 
account of the money he had deposited weekly in his 
hands. Robert said he had not. ‘‘ See what a little 
fortune you possess, then ;” said his employer, handing 
to him a depositor’s book from the savings’ bank, with 
his own hame at the head of the account. ‘ Forty-six 
pounds seven shillings!” exclaimed the astonished 
Robert. ‘“‘ Do I possess so large a sum, Sir?” “ Yes,” 
replied the engineer, *‘ I thought it my duty to depart 
from your injunction relative to the savings’ bank ; had 
the money remained in my hands you would now only 
have possessed forty-two pounds ; you have consequently 
eained upwards of four pounds by my having deposited 
it in the savings’ bank, and the whole’ can be had at 
any time after a few days’ notice. Now then, Robert, 
will you say that the savings’ bank is not an institution 
serviceable to man—serviceable to every one who wishes 
to make himself independent by providine, in the time 
of streneth and prosperity, against the hour of weak- 
ness and need—against the rainy day by which, at 
some time or other, most men are overtaken?’ Robert’s 
mind was deeply impressed ; and, with much emotion, 
he thanked his kind benefactor for rescuing him from 
the paths of drunkenness and degradation, for leading 
him to seek his respectability and happiness in regular 
habits and home enjoyments, and for disregarding his 
prejudices against savings’ banks, making him the con- 
tented possessor of a laree sum, which, but for so happy 
and decisive an intervention, would have been wasted 
in the haunts of infamy and vice. 





SCARBOROUGH CASTLE. 


Tus ruin of Scarborough Castle, on the coast of York- 
shire, is one of the most remarkable objects that stand 


out from the somewhat tame prospect presented by | 
much of the northern part of our island as seen from | 


the German Ocean. It crowns a precipitous rock, 
whose eastern termination, which advances into the sea, 
rises about 300 feet above the waters. The’ principal 
part of the ancient castle now remaining stands at a 


considerable distance back from this bold and imacces- } 


sible front, but on ground which is very nearly as ele- 
vated. Itis a huge square tower, still nearly 100 feet 
hieh, but the walls of which show, by their ragged 


height must have been considerably greater. Each 
side is between 50 and 60 feet in length; but, the walls 
being about 12 feet thick, the space in the interior is 
only 30 feet square. This inclosed area is now open 
to the sky; but marks are still discernible of vaultings 
which had formerly divided the ascent into three stories, 
each of which must have been about 30 feet from the 
floor to the ceiling. An immense fire-place still remains 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


143 


apartment, hollowed out under the earth, which is now 
filled with stones and rubbish. ‘The walls on the out- 
side are faced with hewn stones of a square shape, and 
are pierced in various places with windows, six feet deep 
and three broad, formed by semicircular arches resting 
on strong pillars;' This tower was probably the keep 
of the ancient castle, and, as usual, has been preserved 
from destruction by its extraordinary solidity and 
strength, long after time has swept away nearly all the 
surrounding parts of the building. It stands imme- 
diately within the great wate of entrance to the fortress, 
which is at the western extremity of the inclosure, and 
of which this tower was no doubt the main defence. 
The access to the promontory from this side is by a 
steep ascent; and the gate is guarded by a deep fosse 
or ditch, with a draw-bridge over it. The whole in- 
closed space comprehends about nineteen acres; and 
the fosse before the gate is continued alone the entire 
length of the wall leading southward from that point to 
the sea. As the old feudal stronghold looks down upon 
the sea on the one hand, it has the town of Scarborough 
stretched below it and around it on the other. 

Scarborough Castle was built about the year 1136, 
by William, Earl of Albemarle and Holderness, one of 
the most powerful of the Norman nobility then settled 
in England. His grandfather, Odo of Campania, had 
come over with the Conqueror, who had given him one 
of his own daughters, Adeliza, in marriage. William, 
surnamed Le Gros, or the F'at, being possessed of ex- 
tensive estates in Yorkshire, was permitted by Kine 
Stephen to build this fortress as a residence and defence 
for himself against the turbulent and only half-subdued 
inhabitants of the district. When Henry II. came to 
the throne, with the view of curbing the power of his 
fierce nobility, he ordered the demolition of most of 
those places of strength which, in the preceding reigns, 
had been erected in all parts of the kingdom; but, on 
viewing the castle of Scarborough, he was struck with 
the advantages of its position, which made it quite im- 
pregnable in those times ; and, instead of destroying: it, 
he only seized upon it and declared it the property of 
the crown. It has ever since remained one of the royal 
castles ; and it is still occupied by a small garrison, 
consisting usually of a few invalids, who are accommo- 
dated in barracks of modern erection. 

The castle, after it was taken possession of by Henry 
II., is stated to have been enlarged and strengthened 
by that kine; and one old chronicler asserts that he 
entirely rebuilt it. We may suppose from this that the 
additions which he made to it were very extensive. Its 


subsequent history has been elaborately investigated by 


Mr. T. Hinderwell, in his ‘ History of Scarborough*.’ 

‘The most memorable event in its history is the siege 
it sustained in the civil wars of the seventeenth cen- 
tury, when it was held for the king by Sir Hugh 
Cholmley. The parliamentary forces sat down before 
it in the latter part of the year 1643; but the first 
assault was made on the 18th of February, 1644, under 


‘the command of Sir John Meldrum, a Scotch military 
adventurer of high renown for courage and ability. By 


this attack the besiegers obtained possession of the 
town; but the castle resisted their boldest efforts. 


They afterwards took up their principal station in the 


on the ground floor; but beneath that there is another ! 


parish ehureh, which is only a few hundred yards 


summits and by other indications, that its original | from the castle gate; and against this old building, 
accordingly, the cannonade of the garrison was directed 


with such effect that the east end of it, forming the 
choir, was in a short time battered down. A few years 
ago it still remained a heap of ruins. On the 17 th of 
May, 1645, another attempt was made to storm the 
fortress, which was again repelled with great slaughter 
of the assailants, Meldrum himself having received a, 
wound, of which he died on the 3rd of June following. 


¥ See pp. 38am 98, 2nd Edit, 8ro, 1811, 


144 


By this time, however, both the strength and resources 
of the garrison were nearly exhaustedis and compelled 
at length, by disease and famine, vilaicl had reduced 
his men to a few miserable invalids, the governor, on 
the 22nd of June, surrendered the place on honourable 
conditions to Sir Mathew Boynton, who had been 
appointed Meldrum’s successor. A pamphlet of the 
time, quoted by Mr. Hinderwell, says, ‘‘ Many of Sir 
Hugh’s officers and soldiers belonging to the castle 
were in such a weak condition that some of them were 
brought forth in sheets,—others were helped out 
between two men,—the rest were not very fit to march. 

The general and common disease was the scurvy. 

* * * The women in Scarborough could hardly be kept 
from stoning Sir Hugh.” Sir Hugh’s wife, a daughter 
of Sir William Twisden, Bart., of Peckham, in Kent, was 
with her husband during the whole time of the siege ; 
and Mr. Hinderwejl has given some extracts from a 
manuscript memoir written by Sir Hugh Cholmley, 
which show this lady to have been a heroine worthy of the 
times in which she lived. ‘‘ She endured much hard- 
ship,” says Sir Hugh, ** yet with little show of trouble ; 
and in the greatest danger would never be daunted, 
but displayed a courage above her sex ; and while the 
castle was besieged she did not omit to visit the sick 
persons, and take extraordinary care of them, making 
such help and provision as the place would ‘afford: in- 
somuch that her maids were so overwrought and toiled. 
with it, that one of-them, in the night, stole away, 
thinking to get into the town; but the enemy’s guards, 
taking her for a spy, caused her to return, which was 
acceptable to her lady; there not béing sufficient 
persons in health to attend the sick. . At the surrender | 
of the castle, she procured an article that the garrison 


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at my house at Whitby might be removed, and she 
have the liberty to live in it; “but the captain in posses- 
sion liked the house so well that he did not quit it until 
one of his servants died of the plague; and before he 
durst return again, she unexpectedly (leaving her own 
daughters behind her at one Mr. Percy Hay’s, near 
Malton). adventured over the moors in a dangerous 
season, they being then covered with a thick snow, and 
so got to the house, and kept possession, though in a 
sad condition. Her two sons were beyond sea; and 
her girls she durst not bring thither in respect of the 
late illness. She was ill accommodated with all things ; 
the house being plundered, having nothing but what 
she borrowed, yet her spirit would not submit to com- 
plain. And when Sir John Meldrum had sent proposi- 
tions, with menaces that, if they were not accepted, he 
would that night be master of all the works and castle, 
and in case one of his men’s blood was shed, would not 
give quarter to man or woman, but put all to the sword ; 
she conceiving that I would relent in respect of her 
being there, came to me without any direction or 
trouble, and prayed me that I would not, for any con- 
sideration of her, do aught which might ‘be prejudiciai 
to my own honour or the king’s affairs.” 

A few years after this, Scarborough Castle stood 
another siege ; its governor, Sir Mathew Boynton, the 
successor, and perhaps the son, of the person of the 
same name to whom Cholmley had surrendered, having, 
in 1648, declared for the king. ,He did not, however, 
stand out so long as Cholmley had done ;_ and the place 
fell into the hands of the parliamentary forces on the 
19th of December in the same year. This is the last 
occasion on which Scarborough Castle figures in our 
military annals. 


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#.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful rowed is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,’ 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, ‘ 
Printed by Wit1z1am Cowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





131.) PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Apri 19, 1834. 





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[The Adoration of the Shepherds,—from the Picture in the Musée Napoleon, by Spagnoletto. | 


birth. Spain and Naples disputed for some time as to 
his birth-place ; but it is now generally acknowledged 


Josrpu Riera is the real name of this distinguished 
artist, Spagnoletto merely indicating the country of his 
Vou, ILE, ' 





146 


that he was born at Xativa, now San Filippo, in the 
kingdom of Valencia, in ‘the year 1588. In 1606 he 
arrived at Naples, where he was so much captivated by 
the striking and powerful style of Michael Angelo Car- 
ravagg@io, that he courted and obtained his favour, and 
was encouraged and instructed by him during his first 
residence in that city. He always regarded the works 
of Carravaggio as his best models. .At one time, in- 
deed, after having seen the frescoes of Raphael and 
Annibal Carracci at’ Rome, and those of Correggio at 
Parma and Moderia, he was induced to attempt a style 
of greater tenderness and grace than that to which he 
nad been accustomed; but in this style he was so 
unsuccessful that he soon decided on returning to the 
system of his old master. The characteristics of this 
school were its truth, its force, and the striking effect 
of its lights and shadows. The talents of Ribera were 
not tardily rewarded. He was appointed court-painter 
to the vigeroy of Naples, the Duke of Ossuna, and 
overseer of all the royal works, in which post he is said 
to have conducted himself with great haughtiness 
towards less fortunate artists, and is said to have shown 


a particular jealousy of Domenichino. In this situation | 


he executed several capital pictures, some of which— 
particularly the Descent from the Cross, with a Martyr- 
dom of St. Januarius, which is considered worthy of 
Titian, and a St. Jerome—claim a place among the 
masterpieces of the art. The pencil of Ribera’ pro- 
duced also'a great number of anchorites, prophets, and 
apostles; and into his pictures of ordinary life he was 
fond of introducing philosophers and old men.” But 
the subjects which he preferred, and in which he ex- 
celled, were of a horrible character, such as the ° Flaying 
of St. Bartholomew.’ He executed subjeets of this 
fearful nature with a minute accuracy, which, however 
curious, can scarcely be called an excellence in art, 
for it destroys those pleasurable sensations which it is 
the chief object of art to produce. One of his most 
striking works of this class is that of ‘Ixion on the 
Wheel,’ which is preserved at Madrid. Among the 


subjects of gentler character which he occasionally 
executed, the ‘ Adoration of the Shepherds’ is one of 


the most celebrated. Our engraving of this’ perform- 
ance is taken from the great’ national work, ‘the 
‘Musée Francais,’ in which it is thus mentioned: “ Ri- 
bera painted the ‘ Adoration of the Shepherds’ several 
times. There is a repetition of our picture at the 
Escurial; and we are assured that there is another at 
Cordova, in the sacristy of the Convent of the Augus- 
tines: “I | 
Escurial is a copy. That‘in the Musée Napoleon 
belonged to the Duke de la Regina: it was given up 
to’ France by the’ king of Naples, in exchange for 
other pictures belonging to the French, which the 
Neapolitans had carried off to Rome.” It will “be 


observed that thé pérformance is unequal. The ‘prin-— 


cipal figures, the ‘Virgin and Child,’ are deficient in 
that ideal grace which gave their most touching attri- 
butes to the ‘ Holy Families’ of Raffaelle and Cor- 
reggio; but, in truth and character, nothing can surpass 
ihe figures of the adoring shepherds. As a whole, it 1s 
a picture full of nature and energy. ~~ bh. 
The principal works of Ribera are at Naples, at 
Rome, and in the palace of the king of Spain.” The 
cabinets of Italy are also full of pieces attributed to 
this artist, but they are more probably the productions 
of his pupils, one of whom, Fracanzani, is the celebrated 
artist who, having been condemned to perish on the 
sibbet, obtained the favour, in regard to his profession 
and talent, of dying by poison in the place of his con- 
finement. | ed _== '% 
Ribera continued his professional labours to an 


advanced age; and, being endowed with a prolific 


imagination, produced his paintings with astonishing 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


M. Le Brun thinks that the’ picture in the 





fAprit 19, 


rapidity. After having made a sojourn of some years 
in Spain, he returned to Italy, and, on his arrival at 
Rome, received the most flattering notice from tlié 
pope, by whom he was knighted. He afterwards 
established himself at Naples. Some accounts say 
that a family misfortune, which’ he accounted a disgrace, 
drove him to complete solitude, and that he died in 


some place where he was “uiiknown ; but other state-- 


ments inform ws that he died, in good circumstances, 
at Naples, in 1656, aged seventy-two years. Besides 
his excellence as a painter, Ribera was a superior en- 
eraver with aquafortis, 


-_ 


ed Sete es 


CHARROWS. 

Tin works of Sir Walter Scott have made most readers 

: : as eee Coe Gene) Wie 
well acquainted with the “forays,” or predatory incur- 
sions, by which the’ borders of “England and Scotland 
were so mucli disturbed previously to the union of the 
two crowns. From theTigris to the Indus, transac- 
tions very similar to such’ forays are known by the 
name of ‘* Chappows ;” and we imagine that a short 
secount of thein may not be without interest, as afford. 
ing materials for a-comparison between the ‘state of 
this country in the sixteenth and preceding centuries, 
and a considerable part of Asia in the nineteenth. 
Besides the towns and villages which this extent of 
country, under different rulers, contains, it is abun- 
dantly spotted with the encampments of wandering 
tribes, who, under ‘different nasties, are probably all 
mémbers of the same great Turkish family, which has 
extended its ramifications so much farther westward 
than the limits we have assigned to the chappow in 
the form wé purpose to describe it. ‘This restriction 
is necessary, for the foray in some form or other, diver- 
sified only by the peculiar habits of a people, exists 
wherever a government is weak and a frontier much 
exposed: As we have to consider these tribes only 
with regard to the “chappow, in which their usages 
differ Very little, it will not be necessary to’ quote their 
specific denominations, although we would be “‘under- 
stood as speaking generally of the people called ‘fur- 
komans, who live chiefly in the country: fo the east 'of 
Persia, and’ who differ little, except in a dash of cha- 
racter more wild and savage, from’ the nomades (Ke- 
lauts) who wander in Persia itself; and who, ‘although 
much under fhe ‘control of the government, still cherish 
their lawless habits, and are” always ready’ to avail 
themselves of any opportunity to indulge them which 
the weakness or supineness of that government may 
afford. ,; any nt > ’. e' Pevethey ir me 
“Their habits of life make the Turkomans more than 
ustially attentive to the breed and management of their 
liorses, with a particular régard’ to those qualities which 
are of most importance ‘to’ them in their chappows. 
The horses’ bred and’ reared by them are so highly 
ésteemed in Persia, and fetch such wood prices, that 
some of the tribes; compelled by the strength or con- 
trivance of the Persian’ government to forego their 
cliappows, employ themselves very profitably in rearing 
horses for sale. They do not relish this employment, 
however; but look forward in sanguine expectation 
that such ‘stupid times will not last for ever. “ If 
matters go on in this way,” said a member of one such 
tribe to Sir John Malcolm, “ our sons will become a 
set of blackguard horsedealers instead of gallant war- 
riors, and their children will be instructed in the art of 
cheating unwary citizens, instead of the more manly 
occupation of plundering a rich traveller. We shall 
no more have fine Persian girls to keep our tents clean 
and dress’ our victuals, nor active fellows to rule our 
horses and attend our flocks. What a sad change! 
And as to our profits in breeding and selling horses, J 
have known more money given, in one day, for the 


—_ 


1834.] 


ransom of a nobleman or a wealthy merchant, than our 
whole tribe can now make by trafficking in cattle for a 
twelvemonth. oe 

These so much prized horses are considerably beyond 
the average size of the animal in Persia. They measure 
from fifteen to sixteen hands high, and in shape re- 
semble an English carriage Horse: ar the highest breed. 
Their LT ai size is attributed to the fine pasture-lands 
on which they are reared: and the astonishing. capabi- 
lity of bearing fatigue which they exhibit, to their high 
blood and the j manner in which they are, trained. The 
Turkomans ride them, with snaflles; and allow them to 
eo slouching along with their necks loose. These 
plunderers train their horses as, much as we do. our 
racers Or hunters } and before they begin. their expe- 
ditions _ they jut them in complete condition. 'The 

marches they then perform 2 are astonishing. ‘They have 
been known, to Zo one hundred and forty miles in 
twenty-four houts 5 * and, their predatory parties have 
been ascertained to march), without halting; from eighty 
to one hundred and ten miles daily, for a fortnight 
together. - 

‘Before proceeding on, a. .chappow,, the Tirkomans 
prepare some hard balls, of, barley-meal, which equally 
form the subsistence of themselves and their cattle, 
being, when wanted; soaked i iD water to fit them for use. 
It is said to, be ‘customary, with them in crossing the 
desert of Ker man, and other deserts i in which ho water 
call be obtained; to open a a. veill in the shoulder of the 
horse aud drink a Jittle, of, his blood... They consider 
this to be : beneficial to the aniinal which loses the 
blood § als wale? ride. who imbibes it. Se 


es sr eae* 


4 ee 


bolt half the AGI of ie filees destined . bring 
away the spoil, is perhaps a -fair- average. estimate. 
ney do not hesitate to make a bold dash into large 
towns occasionally, but more, frequently some flourish- 
ing village is the ‘object of | attack. This is sometimes 
made in ” the open day ; and in an, inconceivably short 
time the dwellings are pillaged, the fields often laid 
waste, the finest of the young men, women, and children, 
made slaves, and the whole party is on its homeward 
flight. The least resistance to them is fatal. The 
houses are then burnt, the old and feeble murdered, 
and all the property that cannot be carried away 
destroyed. Their principal weapon is a spear, rudely 
formed, with a small piece of steel at the point, and 
eeneraily from ten to twelve feet long. This is, in their 
hands, so very effective a weapon “that they hold all 
others in light estimation.‘ We were one day,” says 
Sir John Malcolm, “ looking at a party of the king’s 
guards, each of whom was armed with a sword, a spear, 
a pair of pistols, and a dagger. Rahman Beg (the 
Turkoman mentioned before) tossed up his head. in 
coutempt, exclaiming,—‘* What is the good of all this 
arsenal ?—what can a soldier want beyond a spear and 

a heart?” Nevertheless the ‘T'urkomans have the bow 
= arrow also in use, but fire-arms are very sparingly 
employed. 

Their treatment of the prisoners they take in their 
chappows is, in the first instance, terribly severe. A 
very recent traveller * in these countries relates that he 
sometimes met them returning from their chappows, 
and dragging their captives after their horses by a. cord, 
at the end of which was a hook so inserted through the 
flesh as to embrace the collar-bone. This savage 
process, however, seems to be only resorted to in order 
to subdue the spirits of the more refractory prisoners, 
who are thus made to keep up on foot with the beast 


* Lieut. Burnes. The writer of this stele met that sentleman 
in Persia, and feels pleasure in recording that to his skill, expe- 
rience, and kindness, he: is probably indebted for the preservation 
of a life which he hopes to render useful. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


147 


to which they are attached until quite exhausted, when 
they are placed on the back of a horse. Capt. Christie’ S 
account, in Pottinger’s Travels, of the manner in which 
the Belochees treat the victims of their chappows, so 
well illustrates the subject, that we shall make use of 
his statement. When first taken, the prisoners regard 
themselves as the most unfortunate beings in existence’: : 
and, indeed, the treatment they then experience is of 
the har shest and most discouragine description. They 
are blindfulded, and tied, on camels, and in that manner 
transported to prevent the possibility of their knowing 
how to return; and, to deter them from even wishing to 
revisit their native soil, the hair, of the women and “the 
beards of the men are cut off, and the roots totally 
destroyed by a preparation of quick-lime. But they are 
soon reconciled to their fate, and become attached and 
faithful servants. Capt, Christie expressed his surprise 
to the sirdar of Nooshky. that, his numerous slaves 
should work SO diligently without any person to oversee 
them. “ Why.not?” he. replied, ‘‘ they are clothed, 

fed, and treated like the other members of my family ; 
and if they do not labour, they are well aware that bread 
will be scarce, and that they must suffer as well as our- 
selves. It is their interest to produce plenty, for they 
know that they get their share of whatever falls to ny 
Log.” Capt. Christie assented to the justness of his 
observation, but added that he should have thought 
them likely fo Tah, away. “ Nothing of the kind!” 
replied the old sirdar, “‘ they are too wise to attempt it. 

In the first place, they do not know the way to their 

own country; and even admitting that they did, and 
that they wished to return, they are much happier 
here, and have less to care for. Were they at home, 

they must toil fully as hard as they do now; besides 
which, they would have to think of their clothes, their 

houses, and their food. Now they look to me-for all 
their necessaries ; and, in short, that you may judge of 
their feelings, I need only inform you that the greatest 
punishment we can inflict upon them is to send them 
about their business.” _ We think it very likely that the 
slaves themselves would not have spoken in a tone very 
different from that of their master. Slavery, in Ma- 
homedan countries, as compared with the general 
condition of the people, is far from presenting a dis- 

advantageous contrast. It is there but a name, and a 
name of “which no man is or need be ashamed. 

Persons of such apparent consideration as to warrant 
the captors in expecting a good ransom are, until that 
expectation is reliiquished, more favourably treated, in 
the first instance and afterwards, than those who are 
designed for permanent slavery. About two years 
since, the uncle of the king of Oude was taken prisoner 
by the Turkomans while proceeding on a pilgrimage to 
Mushed. Notwithstanding the plainuess of his appear- 
ance, they discovered, from the softness and clearness 
of his hands and feet, that he was not accustomed to 
work or.exposure, and therefore reserved him for ran- 
som. He used to speak of his residence among them 
without indignation or complaint. His master, imleed, 
was. somewhat of a churl; but his mistress was very 
kind. ‘They obtained no ood thing of which he did 
not get a share; and although they would not allow 
him to be idle, he was put only to easy work, such as 
disengaging cotton from the pods, mending clothes, 
and, “occasionally, washing. His superiority Ta. tne 
Thess accomplishment is within our personal know- 
ledge; and he confessed that he was proud to know 
something which could render him useful among the 
Turkomans. 

In concluding this subject, it may be remarked, that 
we shall probably embrace a future opportunity of fol- 
lowing up some parts of the above statement by an 
account, of the position which a slave occupies in Ma-_ 
| homedan countries. 

U 2 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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[Entrance to the Peak Cavern. | 


THERE is no other county in England which affords 
such a variety of scenery as Derbyshire, or which pre- 
sents so striking a contrast in geographical features as 
that which its northern and southern portions exhibit. 
The southern part of Derbyshire is a pleasant, fertile 
district, not distinguished in its general aspect from the 
other midland counties; but the northern abounds with 
hill and dale, and the scenery is often romantic and 
sublime. ‘The country gradually rises for about fifteen 
miles to the northward, and afterwards begins to assume 
that mountainous appearance which it continues to 
possess to the extremity. <A chain of hills arises, which 
extends to the borders of Scotland. These hills are at 
first of small elevation; but, being in their progress 
piled on one another, they form very elevated ground 
in the tract called the High Peak. The mountains of 
the Peak, although inferior to those of Cumberland, 
constitute the loftiest and most considerable range in 
the midland regions of the kingdom. The highest 
points are Axc-edge, which is 2100 feet above the level 
of Derby, and Kinder-scout, which is 1000 feet hieher 
than the level of Buxton. About 700 eminences, and 
00 rocky caverns, dells, and valleys, have been enume- 
rated in the region of the Peak. From the caverns 
which, with the other local peculiarities, have been so 
much celebrated under the title of the ‘“* Wonders of 
the Peak,” we have selected the ‘* Peak Cavern,” fre- 
quently called “‘ Devil’s Cave,” and, still more vul- 
garly, ‘* Auld Horney,” for particular description. 

This cavern is situated about 100 yards from the 
village of Castleton, in a dale of the same name. This 
dale is-about six miles in length, and, in some parts, 
two miles in breadth, and is calculated to lie 1000 feet 
SLelow the level of the surrounding country. It has 
ween much celebrated for the beauty of its scenery ; 
uot, perhaps, that it 1s in this respect superior to many 


other of the picturesque valleys in Derbyshire, but the 
lovely, contrast its luxuriance affords to the sterile, 
bleak, and desolate mountain-tracts previously tra- 
versed, disposes the mind to exaggerate its just claims 
to admiration. 

The cavern itself is one of those magnificent and 
extraordinary works of Nature which at all times 
excite the admiration and wonder of the spectator. 
It would be difficult to imagine a scene more august 
than that which the entrance or vestibule of the cave 
presents. On each side the huge grey rocks rise almost 
perpendicularly to the height of nearly 300 feet, having 
on the left the rivulet which issues from the cavern, and 
foams along over crags and broken masses of limestone. 
The mouth of the cave is formed by a vast canopy of 
rock which assumes the form of a depressed arch nearly 
regular in its structure, and which extends in width 
120 feet, in height 42, and above 90 in receding depth. 
This gloomy recess is inhabited by some poor people 
who subsist by making packthreads, and by selling 
candles and officiating as guides to travellers. Their 
rude huts and twine-making machines, as exhibited in 
the wood-cut (and c in the plan), produce a singular 
effect in combination with the natural features of the 
scene. 

After penetrating about thirty yards into this recess, 
the roof becomes lower, and a gentle descent conducts 
by a detached rock to the immediate entrance of the 
interior hollow, which is closed by a door (e) kept 
locked by the guides. At this point, the light of day, 
which had gradually softened into the obscurity of 
twilight, totally disappears, and torches are employed 
to illuminate the further progress through the darkness 
of the cavern. The passage then becomes low and 
confined, and the explorer is obliged to proceed twenty 
or thirty yards in a stooping posture; when he comes to 


1834.] TIE PENNY MAGAZINE, 149 





[Plan of the Peak Cavern. ] 


a, Stream which loses itself among the rocks. 

6. Entrance to the cavern. 

ce. Cottages. 

d. Broken rocks fallen from the roof and sides. 

e. Door leading from the outer to the second cavern. 


Ff: Boat in the first water, which conveys one person under the 
arch, g. 

h. Great Cavern. 

2, Steps cut in the sand to descend to the second water, &. 

/, Entrance to the passaye leading to the “ chancel,” m. 

n. Third cavern, 400 yards from the entrance. 


another spacious opening, whence 4 path conducts to the 
inargin of a small lake, locally called ‘‘ First Water” (/), 
which is about fourteen yards in length, but has not 
more than three or four feet of depth. There is a small 
boat, partly filled with straw, on which the visiter les 
down, and is conveyed into the interior of the cavern 
ander a massive arch of rock (g), which is about five 
yards through, and in one place descends to within 
eithteen or twenty inches of the water. Beyond the 
lake, a spacious vacuity, 220 feet in length, 200 feet 
broad, and, in some parts, 120 feet high, opens in the 
bosom of the rocks, but the absence of light precludes 
the spectator from seeing either the sides or roof of 
this great cavern. It is traversed by a path, consisting 
partly of steps cut in the sand (2), conducting from the 
first to the ‘‘ Second Water’ (kK). Through this travel- 
lers are generally carried on the backs of the guides. 
Near the termination of this passage, before arriving at 
the water, there is a projecting pile of rocks popularly 
called ‘‘ Roger Rain’s House,” on account of the 
incessant fall of water from the crevices of the rocks. 
A little beyond this spot is the entrance (at /) of another 
hollow called the “‘ Chancel” (m). At this point the 
rocks appear broken and dislocated, and the sides and 
prominent parts of the cavity are incrusted with large 
masses of stalactite. In the ‘* Chancel,” the stranger 
is much surprised and impressed by hearing the death- 
like stillness of the place suddenly interrupted by a 
burst’ of vocal music from the upper regions of the 
cavern. ‘The tones are wild and discordant, but heard 
in such a place, and under such circumstances, produce 
a powerful impression. At the conclusion of the per- 
formance, the singers display their torches, and eight or 
ten women and children—the inhabitants of the huts at 
the entrance—appear, ranged in a hollow of the rock, 
about fifty or sixty feet from the ground, to which they 
gain access by clambering up a steep ascent which 
commences in the opening at 1. From the “‘ Chancel” 
the path leads onward to the ‘* Devil’s Cellar,” and 
thence a gradual but somewhat rapid descent of about 
150 feet conducts to a spot called the ‘* Half-way 
House.” Neither of these places claim particular notice. 
Farther on, the way proceeds, between three natural 
arches, pretty reeularly formed, to another vast cavity 
which is denominated *“* Great Tom of Lincoln,” from 
its resemblance to the form of a bell. <A very pleasing 
effect is produced when this place is illuminated by a 
strong light.. The arrangement of the rocks, the 
spiracles in the roof, and the flowing stream, unite to 
form a scene of no common interest. ‘The distance 
from th's spot to the termination of the entire hollow 


is not considerable. The vault gradually descends, the 
passage contracts, and at last nearly closes, leaving 
only sufficient room for the passage of the water, which 
appears to have a communication with the distant 
mines of the Peak Forest. 

The entire length of this wonderful excavation is 
about 750 yards, and its depth 207 yards. It is wholly 
formed of limestone strata, which abound in marine 
exuvie, and occasionally exhibit an intermixture of 
chert. Some communications, with other fissures, open 
from different parts of the cavern, but none of them are 
comparable to it in extent or appearance. - In general, 
the access to the cavern is easy; but in very wet 
weather it cannot be explored, as it is then nearly filled 
with water, which rises to a considerable height even at 
the entrance. Jn the inner part of the cavern a sin- 
gular effect is produced by the explosion of a small 
quantity of gunpowder, when inserted in a crevice of 
the rock. The report seems to roll along the roof and 
sides like a heavy and continuous peal of overwhelming: 
thunder. 


Progress of Truth—The truth-haters of every future 
generation will call the truth-haters of the preceding ages 
by their true names ; for even these the stream of time car- 
ries onward. | In fine, truth, considered in itsclf and in the 
effects natural to it, may be conceived as a gentle spring or 
water source, warm from the genial earth, and breathing up 
into the snow-drift that is piled over and around its outlct. 
It turns the obstacle into its own form and character, andas 
it makes its way increases its stream; aud should it be ar- | 
rested in iis course by a chilling season, it suffers delay, not 
loss, and waits only for a change In the wind to awaken, and 
again roll onward.— Coleridge. 





Perseverance.—There was no feature more remarkable in 
the character of Timour* than his extraordinary perseverance. 
No difficultics ever led him to recede from what he had once 
undertaken ; and he often persisted in his efforts under cir 
cumstances which led all around him to despair. On such 
occasions he used to relate to his friends an anecdote of his 
early life. ‘‘ I once,’ he said, ‘“‘ was forced to take shelter 
from my enemies in a ruined building, where I sat alone 
many hours. Desiring to divert my mind from my hopeless 
condition, I fixed my eyes on an ant, that was carrying a 
grain of corn larger than itself up a high wall. I num- 
bered the efforts it made to accomplish this object. The 
erain fell sixty-nine times to the ground; but the insect 
persevered, and the seventieth time it reached the top. This 
sight gave me courage at the moment, and I never forgot 
the lesson.” —Malcolm's Persia. 


* The great Asiatic conqueror commonly known by the name 
of Tamerlane. 


150 


THE BALSA. 


THis ingenious contrivance, like the catamarans and 
massulah boats of Madras, is used for landing with safety 
through a heavy surf. The ‘‘ Balsa,” which 1s especially em- 
ployed on the coasts of South America, both Kast and West, 
exhibits a remarkable instance of the ingenuity of the hu- 
man mind in overcoming those obstacles which nature has 
raised to the prosecution of its pursuits. It is formed of two 
seal skins sewed up so as to form large bags from seven to 
nine feet in length; these, being covered with a bituminous 
substance so as to be perfectly air-tight, are inflated by 
flexible tubes and secured by ligatures; the pipe is of suffi- 
cient length to reach the mouth of the conductor of this frail 
bark, who is thus enabled occasionally to replenish the blad- 
ders with air, should any have escaped. The two are securely 
fastened together at one end, which forms the prow of the 
vessel; the other ends are spread about four feet apart by a 
small plank, and the raft completed with small sticks covered 
over with.matting. The manager of the balsa sits well for- 
ward, with his passengers or goods close behind him, and 
armed with a double-bladed paddle approaches the back of 
the surf, waiting for the highest wave, and contrives to keep 
his balsa on the top of it with her bow towards the shore 
till she is thrown up on the beach to the very extent that the 
surf reaches, and the man immediately jumps off to secure 
his balsa from returning with the sea, when the passengers 
land without wetting the soles of their shoes. The balsa 
will: easily carry three passengers besides the person who 
guides it, and is employed in landing the cargoes from mer- 
chant vessels where the violence of the surf, particularly on 
the shores of the Pacific, prevents the possibility of Euro- 
pean boats passing through it without great danger. Along 
the coast of Peru, which is almost entirely devoid of har- 
bours, it is the only vessel used for these purposes, and by 
such frail means large bags of dollars and doubloons, and 
bars of silver and gold, are shipped off, without the least 
apprehension of their safe conveyance. Balsa, which is a 
Spanish word, means, in a nautical sense, float or raft; the 
above description applies only to that kind used at sea, but 
there is another balsa, more simple and more frail, used in 
crossing rivers, an account of which is thus given by Mr. 
Temple in his humorous and entertaining ‘ Travels in 
Peru :—* Take a dried bullock’s hide, pinch up each of the 
four corners, put a stitch with a thorn to keep those corners 
together, and your boat is made. For use, place it upon the 
water bottom downwards, then put one foot immediately in 
the centre, and let the other follow with the most delicate 
caution ; you are now to shrink downwards, contracting your 
body precisely in the manner in which, probably, in your 
childhood, you have pressed a friar into a snuff-box. When 
crouched down in the bottom, sundry articles are handed in 
and ingeniously deposited round you, until the balsa sinks 
to about an inch or an inch and a half; it is then considered 
sufficiently laden. A naked peone (guide) now plunges 
into the stream, and, taking hold of one corner of the balsa, 
a peone on the shore imparts a gentle impulse to your tot- 
tering bark, while the person in the water, keeping hold of 
the corner with one hand, strikes out with the other, and 
swims away with you to the opposite bank.” The work 
from which the aboye extract is made, is written in so face- 
tious and lively a strain, at the same time giving such faith- 
ful and characteristic sketches of the customs of the coun- 
try, that his readers cannot fail to receive amusement as 
well as instruction. 


Goitres.—The inhabitants of the Carpathian mountains 
are afflicted with the same glandular accretion which 
is observed in the Alps; its appearance is disgusting, 
and is so far from being considered as a beauty by the 
natives, that the dress of the women is purposely calcu- 
lated to conceal the neck and throat. In its excess it 
causes all that 1s human, as well in the mind as the body, 
of those who are afflicted with it to disappear. They are 
perfect idiots. J remember the uneasy sensations I expe- 
rienced, when, after along and fatiguing journey, we reached 
our resting-place in a village among the mountains. The 
inhabitants of a dark cottage were dislodged to make room 
for us, and I had ordered the chamber which we were to 
occupy to be cleared and swept; on approaching the fire, I 
observed a person sitting among the embers on the hearth. 
I was peevish, if not angry with the peasant, who imme- 


Jiately drew from the chimney-corner by the nape of the | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Apriz 19, 


neck a naked mummy, for so it appeared to me: the body 
wasted to supply the enormous excrescence on the neck, the 
spindle shanks shrunk up, the long arms hanging down the 
sides, and showing no sign of life except a vacant and 
frightful stare. I confess I felt much horror, and was stung 
with remorse at depriving the poor creature of the only com- 
forts which it seemed capable of enjoying. The quantity of 
morass and stagnant waters in the valleys and meadows, the 
thick and impenetrable forests, the humidity natural to so 
much uncultivated Jand, which is constantly covered with 
the decayed and putrefying vegetables of the preceding 
year, are probably the cause of the defects which exist in the 
atmosphere of these climates.— Thornton's State of Turkey. 





Praise.—Praise in the beginning is agreeable enough, 
and we receive it as a favour; but when it comes in great 
quantities, we regard it only as a debt, which nothing but 
merit could extort.— Goldsmith. 


Passing the Iine.—The ordeal to which novices are now 
subjected on crossing the Tropic of Cancer, or the Equator, 
has formed so prominent a feature in the many nautical no- 
vels which have of late years been before the public, that 
there must be few unacquainted with its nature. Though 
the ceremony has been greatly changed, as well as the pur- 
pose to which fines are applied, it is by no means a practice 
of modern date, as appears by the following extract from 
Merolla’s ‘ Voyage to Congo’ in the year 1682:—** A sort 
of court is erected among them, by consent of the Com- 
mander ; then two judges dressed accordingly sit at table, 
where they take full cognizance of all such as have not yet 
passed the line; and then, as if it were a great crime, they 
mulct them according to their quality; such as are not ready 
to pay thier fines, or at least willing to offer something, are 
seized in a trice, and by a rope round their middles hauled 
up to the main-yard arm, whence they are let thrice succes. 
sively into the sea. From this punishment or a fine none 
are exempt, and, it is said, with the latter they mazntain a 
church.” 


INDICATIONS OF SPRING. 


Tue following indications of Spring were observed by the 
late Robert Marsham, Esq., at Stratton in Norfolk,.and were 
read before the Royal Society, April 2, 1789. Mr. Marsham 
died in 1797, at the age of 90. They may be interesting to 
some of our readers, 





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1884.) 


MALTA. 


GriBRALTAR has not inaptly been termed the key of the 
Mediterranean, and following up the simile, Malta 
may be compared to the spring of the lock,’ possessing: 
advantages from its strength and situation ‘which cannot 
be too highly appreciated by England. There is, how- 
ever, this difference in the two “places, that while the 
former has had Nature for the chief engineer, the latter 
is indebted almost entirely to art for its almost equal 
impregnability. <A detailed account of’ its extensive 
lines of fortification would exceed our present intention, 
which is to confine ourselves to those points more im- 
mediately connected with the Grand Port of Valetta, of 
which the above is a sketch. : 

The approach to Valetta, situated near the eastern 
point of the island, is highly picturesque and interest- 
ing; the fortifications, close to which vessels must pass, 
seem sufficient to annihilate the most powerful naval 
force that could be sent against it.’ There are two 
harbours separated from each other by a narrow neck 
of land; but the northern and smaller of the two 
1S solely appropriated to the purposes of quarantine, 
a penance which is strietly enforced, as the inhabitants 
have already had an awful lesson in the dreadful plague 
with which they were visited in 1813. © 

The southern, or Grand Port, is large, safe, and 
commodious, running up, iIn.a south-west direction, a 
mile and three-quarters; the breadth at the entrance 
being less than 500 yards. It possesses great advan- 
tages as a harbour, being free from danger, and the 
shore everywhere so bold, that a line-of-battle ship may 
lie close to it and take in a supply of water from pipes 
laid down in several places, or her provisions, without 
the aid of boats. ‘The northern shore is but slightly 
varied from the straight line, but to the southward the 
coast is deeply indented by three inlets: the first, im- 
mediately on passing the point of entrance, called Bighi 
Bay, where the French had commenced a palace for 
Napoleon, which, after remaining thirty years in an 
unfinished state, has at last been converted into a Naval 
Hospital ; secondly, a narrow creek, called Porto della 
Galera, or Galley Port, where the gallies of the Knights 
were laid up; and, lastly, Porto della Sanglea. The 
two last are perfectly land-locked. 

On the Valetta side the shore is one continued line 
of wharts, on which stand the Pratique-office, the Cus- 
tom-house, the Fish-market, with ranges of storehouses 
both public and private; and along these wharfs 
merchant vessels generally lie to discharge and load 
their cargoes. ‘The Galley Port is principally appro- 
priated to the establishments connected with the Naval 
Arsenal, whose storehouses and residences of the officers 
occupy the greater part of its shores. The Dockyard 
is at the head of the creek, the Victualling-office and 
Cooperage along its eastern shore; and although its 
wreatest breadth does not exceed 250 yards, the depth 
of water is sufficient to admit of two-decked ships lying 
at the Dockyard to undergo their necessary repairs: 
the western side is resorted to by merchant vessels when 
making a long stay. The shores of Port Sanglea are 
chiefly occupied by private yards for building ‘and re- 
pairing merchant vessels; beyond which, up to the ‘head 
of the harbour, the country is open. 

The entrance to the harbour is defended by Forts 
Ricasoli on the east and St. Elmo on the west, whose 
wails rise almost immediately from the SeTenOne, and 
by Fort St. Angelo, a quadruple battery, the lowest 
tier of which is nearly level with the water. This fort 
stands at the extremity of the tongue which separates 
the Galley Port from Bighi Bay, and completely flanks 
the entrance. The next point, separating the Galley 
Port from Port Sanglea, is also protected by a battery, 
besides which a line of fortification surrounds the town 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Lo) 


on both sides the harbour, with bastions where most 
conducive to the general défence, and towards the land 
the utmost ingénuity of art has been lavished to render 
the town impregnable. 

‘The«Maltese are an industrious and active though by 
no means a'fine ‘race of men; thé poverty of their living 
supérinduces diseases, among which ophthalmic com- 
plaints are the most prevailing. The streets of Valetta 
are thronged with a squalid set of the most persecuting 
beggars, ‘whose supplications for “‘ cariti”’ are as in- 
cessant, ‘and more: annoying to the a: even than the 
ringing of the bells. 

he boats, which are very numerous, afford a striking 
and pleasing feature in the general appearance of the 
place: though seemingly very clumsy, they are rowed 
with great velocity by the natives, who stand up and: 
push at the oar; they are safe and commodious, 
always kept remarkably clean, and painted with the. 
gayest colours, having an eye on each side of the siern; 
they are also provided with a white cotton awning and 
curtains for fine weather, and a more substantial cover- 
ing for rain; they are well regulated, and their hire is 
very modérate. ‘The boat- -races, which are frequent, 
offer a very lively and animated scene. ‘The water is 
beautifully clear,’ and generally crowded with boys 
bathing, many of whom: spend nearly as'much time in 
that element as on shore; the Maltese are universally 
good swimmers and divers : and the numerous fast- days 
of the Catholic church give employment to many in 
supplying the market with fish. ’ 

Malta is very subject to the oppressive and enervating 

*scirocco,” or south-east wind; but the ‘ gregali,” or 
ait ches wind, is that which blows with the greatest 
fury, and, blowing directly into the harbour, causes a sea 
across hie Sivan that would be dangerous to smal] 
vessels, and cuts off the communication across from 
Valetta to Vittorioso.. The surf there beats against the 
walls of the-fortifications with impetuous violence ; it 
has even at times removed the guns from the embra- 
sures of Fort Ricasoli,—and the spray has been carried 
over the top of the palace. 

The island produces some excellent fruits, among 
which are the oranges and melons for which it is par- 
ticularly celebrated, but the market is chiefly supplied 
from Sicily, a number of large boats, called ‘* spero- 
neras,” being constantly employed running to and tro. 
Provisions are cheap and abundant, but butchers’ meat 
is indifferent. There is a lichthouse 3 in Fort St. Elmo, 
occupying a very advantageous situation. 

Valetta itself is built on the narrow neck of Jand 
which divides the two ports, occupying an area of 560 
acres. The first stone was laid in 1566 by the famous 
Grand Master, John de la Valeite, after having, the 
year before, obliged the Turks to abandon a protracted 
and vigorous siege against the Order, who then in- 
habited the opposite shores of the island called Burmola 
and Isola. ‘The new city, however, soon surpassed the 
other parts in population, buildings, and commercial 
importance, and now gives name to the whole, which 
properly consists of five distinct quarters, or towns, TZ. 
on the north side of the port, Valetta and Floriana, 
and on the south side, Vittoriosa, Burmola and Isola; 
—the three latter enclosed in an extensive line of fortifi- 
cation called the Cotonera. 

The streets are at right angles to each other; and, 
being built on an elevation inclining on either side, 
most of the transverse streets are necessarily constructed 
with flights of steps, which Lord Byron has justly 
anathematized as “‘ cursed streets of stairs,” al expres- 
sion that might be drawn from the most pious wnile 
toiling up them on a sultry summer’s day. The houses 
are low, never exceeding a second story; built of the 
stone ae the island, ay are provided ath balconies to 
most of the windows, and flat terraced roofs, which, 


L5e THE PENNY 
in commanding situations, furnish an agreeable resort 
in the cool of the day,—also to catch the rain, which 
is conducted by pipes to a cistern, with which every 
house is provided. There are likewise public foun- 
tains, the source of whose supply is in the southern 
part of the island, and conveyed to the city by means 
of an aqueduct. The streets are generally wide and 
well-paved, with a broad footpath on each side; but 
the glare caused by the reflexion of the sun on the 
sandstone is so, intolerably distressing to the eyes as 
to render walking out during the .middle of the day 
almost impossible. : 7 

The Palace, at present. occupied by the governor, 
was formerly the residence of the Grand Master of the 
Order; it issa large and : handsome quadrangular 
building, with a spacious courtyard in. the centre; it 
stands about, the middle and highest part of the town, 
and on it is the signal station. It contains some 
beautiful specimens: of tapestry, and paintings of the 
Grand Masters, and has a very extensive armoury 
attached to it,-with.curious specimens of, armour, and 
weapons. Before this palace.is an-‘open space. called 
Piazza St. Giorgio, used as a military parade, and_en- 
livened in the evenings by one of the regimental bands: 
Near this is the cathedral of St. John, the tutelar saint 
of the Order,—a vast, though externally a remarkably 
plain and unostentatious edifice ; within is a spacious 
oblong area, and on each side are aisles,.with particular 
altars or chapels for the different nations composing 
the Order, adorned with: paintings and sculpture ac- 
cording. to the zeal-or, riches. of-the ‘“ Tongue,” as. it 
was technically called, to which it belonged. | The 
whole pavement. is, however, . richly emblazoned with | 
the armorial. bearings. of the knights,in mosaic,, The | 


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MAGAZINE. [Aprm 19, 1834. 
appointments of this cathedral suffered greatly during 
the temporary possession of the island by the French;; 
—a handsome silver railing round one of the altars 
escaped their sacrilegious rapacity only by being painted. 
The vaults below the cathedral are also curious. Besides 
St. John, Valetta abounds in churches, the incessant 
ringing of whose bells are among the greatest nui- 
sances of the place. Although the island has been in 
possession of the English since 1800, no Protestant 
church has been built ; a small chapel in the Palace, 
and one at the Dockyard, being the ‘only places of 
worship of the Established Church. The next objects 
‘are the hotels, or inns of the different nations, where 
they held their meetings: these still retain their dis- 
tinguishing appellations, though now variously applied, 
—some to quarters for officers of the garrison, some to 
private individuals, and one, having the only large 
room floored with plank in the town, has become: the 
scene of public assemblies. Valetta has its banks and 
exchanges, and there are also public hospitals, a very 
good theatre, and coffee-houses fitted up with marble, 
where the visiter may enjoy that luxury in’a hot climate, 
ice, brought over from Etna. ‘There are two’ libraries, 
one which belonged to the Knights, comprising about 
40,000 volumes of. Greek, Latin, French, and Italian 
works; the other a subscription library, established by 
the English residents. ere 

Valetta, on the whole, is a gay and interesting place, 
not only from its former eventful history and chivalrous 
masters, but from its present state. Its commercial 
activity, its political importance, and its central situation 
in the Mediterranean, all conduce-to make it the resort 
of a great variety of nations, ranks, and characters from 
all quarters of-the globe. Beene 


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*,”% The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of 


3 


Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 


‘LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 





{Printed by Wituram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, | 





THE PENN Y MAGAZINE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful RAO WAPTEE. 
132.] 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Aprit 26, 1834 





THE RHINOCEROS. 


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[The one-horned to 


Tne recent arrival in this country of a young rhinoceros 
of the Asiatic variety, which was obtained at Siam, will 
probably give a peculiar interest to an account of this 
formidable and somewhat rare animal, the common 
statements regarding which are, to this day, often 
contradictory and exageerated. 

The rhinoceros is an inhabitant of most of the 
warmer and milder parts of Africa, of India, of the 
countries lying between India and China, fia of: the 
islands of Sumatra and Java.’ Some contemporary 
naturalists have been disposed to recognize four living 
yarieties of this animal,—denominated ‘the African, the 
Sumatran, the Indian, ‘anid the Javan. We shall, how- 
ever, in our present article, find it convenient to neelect 
minute distinctions, and consider the rhinoceros simply 
in its one-horned or two-horned characters. 

The one-horned, or Asiatic rhinoceros, is a bulky 
and clumsy looking animal, the specific character of 
which is marked by a single black horn, placed near 
the end of the snout. Its stature seems to vary 
from five to seven feet, and its length from nine 
to eleven. Its general appearance is of the most 

massy character, exceeding in this respect the elephant, 
from the comparative shortness of its legs. 


The neck | 


body is thick, juts out at the sides, and has a hollow 
in the back ; the belly hangs low; the legs are short, 
thick, and strong; the feet, which do not in any part 
project much beyond the thick legs, are divided into three 
hoofs, placed nearly vertically, ‘and the middlemost of 
which is the largest and most rounded. The body is 
clothed with an exceedingly thick and rough skin, not 
penetrable by ordinary weapons, destitute of hair, but 
covered more or less with a sort of irregular incrustation 
which has been improperly denominated “ scales.” 
This skin is, about the neck, gathered into large folds ; 
a fold also extends between the shoulders and fore legs, 
and another from the hinder part of the back to the 
thighs, so that the animal has the appearance of being 
clad in armour. Between the folds of this thick skin, 
the cuticle, which is left bare, is soft and easily -pene- 
trable. The eeneral colour of the skin may be called 
dark grey, with a tinge of violet. ‘To consider it 1 its 
parts :—the form of the head is compact, and somewhat 
triangular; the sides of the under jaw stand very wide 
asunder, slanting outwards to the lower edge, and 
backw eal to the aul: : the edges turn outward from this 
structure of the bones, and “the head necessarily ap- 
pears very large. ‘The igumVer of the teeth is ihirty, 


is very short; the shoulders are thick and heavy ; the | thirty-two, or thirty-four, according to the species 


Vou. IIL. 


154 


That part of the head which reaches from the com- 
mencement of the horn to the upper lip may be called 
the nose; it is very thick and bulky, much wrinkled, 
has a circular sweep downward to the nostrils, and, 
when viewed in front, the whole of this portion, from 
the top of the horn to the verge of the lower lip, has 
some resemblance to a bell. The under lip is like that 
of an ox, but the upper has more resemblance to that 
of the horse, and in the domestic state he is observed 
to use it as that creature does in gathering up hay from 
the rack or grass from the ground, ‘he rhinoceros 
has also the power of extending this lip to the distance 
of six or seven inches from the nose, and then drawing 
it toa point. In this particular he resembles the tapir. 
With the instrument thus formed, and which in some 
measure serves the same end as the trunk of the ele- 
phant, the animal can take up and grasp with great 
force the smallest substances. In the wild state he 
appears to employ it, with the aid of his tongue, in 
breaking off the branches of trees, which form a 
principal part of his food. This lip is very soft, and 
appears to be the chief seat of the sense of feeling in 
the beast, which of all its senses seems to be the most 
defective. The nostrils are situated remarkably low, in 
the same direction with the opening .of the mouth, and 
not more than an inch from it. The eyes are very small, 
much resembling those of a hog in shape, and placed 
nearer to the nose than in any other quadruped. ‘There 
are few points regarding any known animal on which 
we have such opposite statements as the s7ght of the 
rhinoceros. ‘We find that those who have studied the 
animal in confinement do not menticn its sight as 
defective, but rather describe all its senses, except that 
of feeling, as particularly acute ; whilst travellers who 
have ‘observed it in the natural state infer that its sight 
is not-very quick, as it always makes a straight-forward 
charge when attacked, and suffers the hunters . to 
approach very near without seeming to perceive them. 
These circumstances are perhaps quite as well accounted 
for by the awkward structure of its limbs, neck, &c., 
and its hard bulky body; by which it is prevented 
from turning with facility or speed; and by the con- 
fidence of the animal in its’own -powers, and the 


protection of its almost impenetrable hide. Upon the | 


whole, although this must still remain an open question, 
we are inclined to pay particular attention to the state- 
ment of Mr. Barrow, who indicates causes. and com- 


pensations which certainly do exist somewliere in all 


cases of peculiar structure or position. 

After mentioning the peculiar position of the eyes in 
the rhinoceros, and the extreme minuteness which 
would seem to render them of small use to so huge a 
creature, he adds,—“ But nature, always provident, 
has remedied this inconvenience by placing them in 
projecting sockets, in which they turn in all directions 
like those of the little cameleon. Had the eyes been 
placed in the usual part of the face, just below the pro- 
jecting forehead, which is very large, the visual rays 


would have embraced only about 180 degrees, or half 


of the horizon ; whereas, in the present position, they 
have a much greater scope, being able, I should sup- 
pose, without any motion of the head, to sweep from 
260 to 270 degrees.” —‘ Southern Africa,’ vol. il. p. 129. 
It is right to mention that Mr. Barrow in this passage 
speaks of the two-horned rhinoceros ; but in the two 
species there does not appear any difference in the size 
or position of the eye. The ears are large, erect, 
pointed, and garnished with some stiff black hairs, 
which appear nowhere else except on the tail, which is 
slender, and flattened at the end. - — 

We now come to that singular and distinctive feature 
of the rhinoceros—its horn—which we have reserved 
for particular description. This we shall give in the 
words of Lieut. White, of the United States’ Navy, in 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. | 


[APRIL 26, 


his ‘ Voyage to Cochin China :’— The horn of this 
rhinoceros is formed much like a limpet-shell, but more 
pointed ;—at its base it 1s venerally about six inches 
long by four inches wide, and it protrudes about six or 
ei@ht inches. There is a shallow concavity occupying 
the whole base, resembling the limpet also in this 
respect. To judge of the geodness of a rhinoceros’ 
horn, this concave part is put to the ear, and the greater 
the noise, resembling that of the waves on the sea- 
beach, the better the horn is judged to be by the 
Chinese.” Some naturalists describe the horn as solid, 
fixed, and attached to the bone of the nose; but it is 
certainly connected with the skin only, and is capable 
of motion. ‘The structure of the horn seems to confirm 
the opinion that the horns of animals are merely the 
result of a particular modification of hair: it 1s so 
fibrous that it seems to be no more than an agglutina- 
tion of hairs. Its use appears to be that of a defensive wea- 
pon, as well as for the-purpose of uprooting or rending 
the animal’s food. Ina state of confinement, it has been 
observed that he strikes with it in his moments of fury, 
and employs it to rend and destroy that which has yielded 
to his efforts; it is also brought more into use than any 
other part in all cases where the employment of force is 
necessary. It is particularly adapted by its form to be 
made into cups, and is much applied to that use. Thun- 
berg says, “ It is generally believed that goblets made 
of the horns in a turner’s lathe, will discover any poison- 
ous draught that is put into them by making the liquor 
ferment until it runs quite out of the goblet. Such 
eoblets are frequently set in gold and silver, and are 
regarded as suitable presents to kings, persons of dis- 
tinction, or particular friends ; or else they are sold at 
a high priec, sometimes at the rate of fifty rix-dollars a 


Gi 
goblet. When I tried these -horns, both wrought- and 


unwrought,—both old and young horns,—with several 


sorts of poison,—weak as well as strong,—I observed 
not the least motion or effervescence; and when .a 
solution of corrosive sublimate, or other similar sub- 
stance, was poured into one of these horns, there arose 
only a few bubbles, produced by the air which had been 
enclosed in the pores of the horn, and which was now 
disengaged from it.” j 
Besides the use of its horns for goblets and handles 
of swords and daggers, there is scarcely any part of ithe 
animal which is not employed medicinally in ithe 
countries it inhabits. 'The hide is much in request'for 
shields in most countries where it can be procured ; and 
an extravagant price is sometimes paid for it. Burck- 
hardt sometimes saw as much as four or five Spanish 
dollars paid for a piece four inches long and one thick. 
The rhinoceros lives in shady forests adjoining rivers, 
or in the swampy jungles with which its native country 
abounds. It is fond of wallowing in the mud like the 
hog; it also grunts like that animal, and its flesh is” 
said to have much resemblance to pork, though of a 
coarser grain and stronger taste. Its chief food appears 
to. consist of roots, small branches of trees, and suc- 
culent plants, some of which are harsh and prickly. 
The rhinoceros is a solitary animal; and the female 
produces one at a birth. The growth of the young is 
very gradual, as at the age of two years it scarcely 
attains half its height. ‘The specimen now to be seen 
at the Surrey Zoological Gardens, which is about 
fifteen months old, is about three feet hich. The 
rhinoceros, though possessed of great strength, and 
said to be more than a match for either the tiger or 
elephant, is quiet and inoffensive when not provoked ; 
but, in a state of irritation, its undistinguishing rage 1s 


‘| exceedingly terrible, being enabled, by its astonishing 


strength, to beat down or aside most things that oppose 
its straicht-forward course, 
Much that has been said above will be understood to 


| app.y as well to the two-horned as to the one-horned 


1834] 


rhinoceros. The principal difference between them is, 
that the African variety has an additional horn of a 
smaller size situated nearer the forehead, and the skin 
is not thrown into the folds so remarkably as in the 
Asiatic variety. Mr. Sparmann dissected a two-horned 
rhinoceros, not of the largest size, though it measured 
seven feet high, eleven feet and a half long, and twelve 
feet in the girth. He observed that the viscera greatly 
resembled those of the horse; the stomach, however, 
resembled rather that of the hog, or man. It had no 
wall bladder, in this again resembling the horse. There 
were no fore-teeth, and the tongue was perfectly soft 
and smooth. The kidneys were a foot and a half in 
diameter; the milt was four feet long and one foot 
broad; the heart was a foot and a half long, and nearly 
as broad; the skin was an inch and a half thick on the 
back, and still thicker, though less compact, on the 
sides; and the anterior horn, which is the longest, 
was a foot lone and five inches in diameter at the base ; 
the shape was in both horns conical, with the tips in- 
clining backward: It is remarkable, that the two- 
horned variety has never in modern times been brought 
to Europe; yet it was much better known than the 
Asiatic variety to the ancients. It is generally repre- 
sented with two horns in the coins and sculptures of 
the Romans. The one-horned variety seems to have 
been earlier known than the other, though it did not 
afterwards become such an object of familiar knowledge 
to the Romans. It is probably, also, the Indian ass with 
one horn, mentioned by Aristotle. Pompey introduced 
it into the games of the Roman circus; but, from the 
time of the fall of the Roman empire, it was so com- 
pletely lost sight of, that, prior to the 16th century, 
naturalists were of opinion that it had never existed, or 
that if so, it was extinct. When, however, the Portu- 
- guese doubled the Cape of Good Hope, and opened the 
way to India, the one-horned variety again became 
known, and specimens were brought to Europe; the 
first was in the year 1513; but the first that appeared 
in England was not until 1684. ‘They have never been 
very common, however, as objects of curiosity in 
Europe. ‘The one represented in our wood-cut, which 
is copied from the splendid ‘ Histoire Naturelle des 
Mammiteres,’ by Geoffroy St. Hilaire and F. Cuvier, 
drew much attention in 1815 at Paris, to which place 
it was taken after having formed part of a menagerie in 
this country, to which it had been brought from India. 
This rhinoceros was still young, and _ habitually 
indicated an exceedingly mild disposition, being very 
obedient to his keeper, whose caresses he seemed to 
receive with much satisfaction. Nevertheless he was 
subject to violent fits of passion, and at such times it 
was dangerous to approach him. He then made pro- 
digious efforts to break his chains and escape from his 
bondage; but the offer of bread and fruits seldom 
failed to succeed in soothing his most terrible passions. 
Those persons found the most favour with him who 
ministered the most to his gormandizing appetites; 
and when they appeared, he exhibited his satisfac- 
tion and expectation by opening his mouth and ex- 
tending to them his long upper lip. The narrow limits 
of the cage in which he was shut up, did not allow him 
to manifest much of intelligence. ‘he great object of 
the keeper was to make him forget his strength or 
forego its exercise. Hence, nothing calculated to 
awaken his consciousness of power was required from 
him. To open his mouth, to move his head to the 
right or left, to lift his lee, &c., were the only acts by 
which he was requested to testify his obedience. His 
great strength, and the fear that in one of his passions 
he might break his cage, ensured to him the most mild 
and soothing treatment, and he was scrupulously re- 
warded for the least thing he was required todo. In 
spite of such an unfavourable situation, the distinction 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


155 


he made of persons, and the great attention he paid to 
everything that passed around, demonstrated that, in 
more favourable circumstances, his intelligence mieht 
have been more strikingly manifested. 

Lhe young rhinoceros in the Surrey Zoological Gar- 
dens indicates much mildness of disposition, and he 
appears attached to two goats which came to Eneland 
in the same ship with him. His favourite food is rice 
aud sugar, of which he consumes a great quantity, 





MUSIC. 


Do the English like music? This is a question to 
which an answer cannot be given in a word, and the 
various remarks springing out of it will not fall under 
any title less general than the one we have chosen. 
When we ask whether the English like music, we do 
not mean the small proportion of the -population which 
has learned to read music, and has, more or less, the 
advantage of studying good models; but the multitude 
of all ranks, whose acquirements extend no farther than 
to draw'a distinction between “ pretty tunes” and 
“ugly tunes,” and who fall under the two great sub- 
divisions of those who would know ‘ God save the King’ 
if it were sung without words, and those who would 
not. Wemust not judge of these by the state of the 
public orchestras, or of the musical press. In large 
towns it is true that the first is some slight indica- 
tion of popular taste, but not much, for the following 


reasons. 


First, the excitement of a popular assembly, the 
lights, acting, dancing, &c., render the music palate - 
able, and even interesting, to many who would other- 
wise care little about it. We do not: exaggerate when 
we say that dancing alone is to many the means of 
making music intelligible. E:ven the connoisseur beats 
time when he wishes to put himself completely in pos- 
session of what is going on;. dancing is beating time 
with expression as well as regularity, and the ‘sense of 
both may be, and 1s, aided by the eye, when the ear 
is dull from want of practice. Next, it must be ob. 
served that there are several distinct qualities of an’ 
orchestra from which pleasure may be derived, and that 
it does not follow that one person unites the feeling of 
all. The mere tone of some of the instruments is 
delightful, and the succession of different and varied 
species of sound is a source of pleasure which exists 
independently of the subject of performance. When 
we see a person who is pleased with the horn or the 
musical glasses, but cares little for a pianoforte or a 
quartett of stringed instruments, we may be very sure 
that he likes one class of musical tones and nothing 
more. We might also instance regularity, the alterna- 
tion of loud and soft, the swell or crescendo, &c., all of 
which afford satisfaction to many who neither know 
nor care whether the instruments are in tune or not. 

Composers themselves are sometimes aware of the 
feelings being guided by other considerations than 
melody and harmony. ‘The followiug writers are 
constant self-repeaters, Corelli, Handel, and Rossini. 
But that which in the first is tiring, good as it is, and 
in the second would be so, were it not so exquisitely 
good, is little felt in the third, on account of the pecu- 
liarly varied management of the instruments. It must 
be observed that the orchestra is now much larger than 
in the time of Handel. _ Rossini on the pianoforte has 
not one-tenth part so many ideas as in the orchestra. 

An eminent pianist informed us that he was so 
liable to be taken in by the glitter of a new and excel- 
lently toned pianoforte which he possessed, that he never 
played his own compositions upon it, or used it in 
arranging his ideas, till he had first submitted them tu 
an old and beaten instrument on which he had taken 
his first lessons, the keys of which had worn by 

2 


1350 


his fingers, more than ever were the stones of a church 
by the “knees of pilgrims, till they were actually fluted. 
This is a sort of counterpart to the story of Moliere’s 
old woman, and.‘the result was the same in both 
cases,—the old woman was always right. 

Haydn had Prince Esterhazy’s band always at his 
disposal. He had but to ring a bell and the musicians 
assembled. We very much doubt whether his works 
were the better for it in substance, though no doubt his 
instrumentation, as it is sometimes called, was ereatly 
improved by it. 

On these grounds we do not feel certain that love 
of the orchestra is such a proof of love of music as may 
be generally supposed. And certainly with those who 
live in the country it_ can be none at all, for obvious 
reasons. Neither is the state of the musical press any 
test, because by it we can only judge of those who have 
musical education. 

It might, perhaps, be urged that national music is the 
proper criterion. But it must be recollected that the 
two countries. which have produced the best composers, 
and where knowledge of music most obtains,—Ger- 
many and Italy,—have very little, if any, national music. 
The French. have still less; the English hardly any. 
The Scotch, Irish, ‘and Swiss, have a ereat deal; so 
also, we. believe, have the Spaniar ds. With the excep- 
tion of,‘ God save the King,’ and ‘ Rule Britannia,’ 
we doubt if there is a national air in England—that is, 
known throughout the whole. country to ev ery one who 
can distinguish one note from another. 
however, some nursery airs which, perhaps, may claim 
the appellation. 

To what sort of music. then must we go, by which 
to try the taste and the ear of the great mass of our 
countrymen ? ‘It must clearly be to something which is 
heard: by all, or nearly all, in the country. _ At present, 
we call only recollect the devotional music in places of 
religious worship, and the performances of the itinerant 
minsirels. These, which we believe to be the only 
attainable tests, are certainly sufficient, at least so far 
as this, that no nation with a cultivated ear would 
suffer them to be’ very bad.. We begin with the first. 

Devotional music; for common purposes, is very dif- 


ferent in the churches established by law ‘and those of: 


the dissenters. - The latter appear to dislike the intro- 
duction of any thing but the voice, and seldom admit: 
more than a violoncello, or some one simple instru- 
ment. - In the greater ‘number of cases no instrument'is 
used except. that known by the name of the pitch-pipe, 
which sounds. the key-note at the commencement. But, 
generally speaking,. the individual members of dissent- 
ing congregations take a greater interest in the manage- 
ment than those of the church. Many have organized 
volunteer corps of singers, consisting of all such as 
choose .to associate themselves in ‘such a capacity. 
And as it must be supposed that none would choose to 
take trouble for such a purpose who have not some 
little taste for the matter, the consequence is that in 
dissenting meeting-houses in general the singing is 
very fair, - That is, time, :tune,: ‘and the several parts— 
usually not more than four—are tolerably well preserved. 
And we doubt not there are many places in which the 
performance is, in these respects, much above mediocrity. 
Many hooks of psalm-tunes are written expressly for 

seu use, and we now come to the sort of music 
vhich is chosen. 

When many voices are to join in unison, supported 
jaly by a small number in the under parts, good taste 
cints, out that the melody should be excessively simple, 
ad the harmony equally so, with a strong, nervous, 

ad almost rude character,—not dwelling on minutie, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


: poetical versions of the psalms. 





2 


[ApRiL 26, 


Hundredth Psalm,’ and, though not so perfect in our 
opinion, the ° Evening Hymn. Of these, and several 
others, it is not too much to say that they are magnifi- 
cent. But, unfortunately for the art, the composers of 
this sort of music have left the good ‘models, and have 
produced. complex, artificial, trashy substitutes, full of 
false attempts at. variety, and unskilful use of contrast. 
In the poverty of invention common airs have been 
sometimes pressed into the service, the harmony of 
which is that of the opera, not of the church. For if 
must be observed that sacred music has always had 
combinations peculiar to itself, which we know not, 
though we can feel, why, have been considered as solemn 
in their character. Sometimes an air of an oratorio 
has been adapted, by some mere mechanist, to the long 
short, or common metre, as the case may be, of the 
We remember a. 
curious instance, in which some parts of Handel’s ‘I 
know that my Redeemer liveth’ haye been torn out 
from the rest to form three lines of a psalni-tune, the: 
fourth of which has been added by the compiler. 
Thus much, then, we conceive we can surmise fronr 
the state of music among the dissenters, that though. 
there is no incurable defect in the national ear for 
simple time and tune, there is not as yet sufficient. 
cultivation to know that which is true and just taste 
from the creations of diseased fancy. . 

The churches of the established persuasion may be. 
divided into those which have organs and those which 


There are, | have not, the latter being mostly i in the country. The 


former are under the suidance of the organist, of 
whom usually nothing worse can be said than. that it 
were to be wished he would try his voluntaries upon the 
old piano already alluded to, before he pronounced them 
worth playing. - Now, with regard to the congrega- 
tions in the dissenting chapels, those who have no ear, 
either are silent or perhaps get a hint to be so from a 
friend, for it is astonishing how well a single voice out 
of tune can be distinguished among a number. At any. 
rate, we must either suppose this, or that a dissenter, 
aS | such, is more musical than a churchman, for, as we. 
have observed, the singing in the chapels of the former 
is seldom offensive from being out of tune. But, under 
the thunder of a diapason stop, many try their voices 
who, to say the least, do.not add-to the general effect. 
From what we . have experienced, we begin to suspect, 
in addition to our former surmise, that the national ear 
is, though correct after practice, not so keen as in some 
other European countries; so that, even with the organ 
as aguide, there is a large proportion which wants a 
little drill. 

The churches which have no organs are mostly pro- . 
vided with a few instrumental performers from among 
the villagers, among whiom bassoons, clarionets, and 
fiddles are common enough. . These instruments are 
frequently barely consistent t with themselves, and not at 
all so with each other, so that there is some excuse. for - 
the congregation, who usually avail themselves of it to 
the fullest extent. 

On the whole, tnen, we think that our devotional 
music is no great index of any love for, or cultivation 
of, the art. We very much wish that it were otherwise, 
and that rectors, curates, and ministers would make 
efforts to effect some reformation. ‘They should recollect 


‘that they would thus not only promote their great 


object—since there is no denying that good church 
music is a strong aid to devotional feeling—but that 
they would also be instrumental in spreading a hu- 
manizing art, and thereby furnishing their flocks with 
an additional source of harmless pleasure. One well- 


directed attempt to promote an innocent amusement 


+ any very close degree of filling up. All these condi- | would be worth two sermons against pernicious ones: 
ons are well fulfilled in many of the old chants, and | —“ a fair exchange is no robbery. . 
psalm-tunes. We may instance particularly the ‘ Old [To be continued, ] 


1834.) THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 157 


CATHEDRAL OF EXETER. 


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[West Front of Exeter Cathedral. | 


Tue Cathedral of Exeter, although, as will be seen, a] extreme lightness and florid ornament which distin- 
considerable period elapsed between the commence- euish the latest stage of Gothic architecture. _ 

ment and the completion of the building, 1s remarkable, The nave and choir of the church, together with the 
above most of our other cathedrals, for the uniformity | Lady Chapel, to the east of the latter, make a length 
of the architectural character which it presents through- | of about 408 feet in all. The nave with its aisles 1s 
out. The plan of its founder, although he was him- | 76 feet in breadth, and is crossed by a transept, <a 
self only able to execute it in part, appears to have | however, only extends about 30 feet beyond - 0 

been taken as their guide by all those who continued | the side walls, the two projecting portions being 
the structure after him. Its pervading style is what | formed each of the basement story of a great square 
may be called the’ middle Gothic ;—without any thing | tower, which has been arched out for that purpose, 
either of the rudeness of the Saxon and the heaviness | The height of each of these towers, which are massive, 
of the earliest Norman style on the one hand, or of the ' structures, surmounted by pinnacles at the four corners, 


158 


1s about 130 feet. Buttresses, which rise into pinnacles, 
are placed in thick succession both along the north 
and south sides and around the ends of the building, 
viving to the upper part of it considerable richness of 
effect. 

The west front, however, is the most highly orna- 
mented portion of the exterior. The form of the fagade 
is peculiar, consisting of a broad-based triangle, ele- 
vated upon a parallelogram, so as somewhat to resemble 
a modern gable. Along the two ascending sides of 
the triangle rise a series of lofty and fancifully decorated 
pinnacles, under the central one of whicli, crowning 
the apex of the fissure, is a window, filled with stained 
olass, of magnificent dimensions, and terminating in a 
pointed arch. Under this is the. great central door. 
opening into the nave, and to the right and left of 
that are the two aisle doors. All the rest of the wall 
is covered by a rich display of sculpture, consisting 
mostly of statues in niches, ranged 1 # series of tiers, 
and representing a vast number of scriptural characters 
—kings, prelates, and other persons of eminence. 
Time has now obliterated the finer features of this 
elaborate design; but the throng of figures, though 
they do not appear to have been executed by any means 
in the best style of Gothic sculpture, still make a 
highly imposing show. | 

The interior of this cathedral, however, is what 
merits the most admiration. The great height of the 
nave, nearly 70 feet,—the boldly ribbed roof,—the clus- 
tered columns, of which there are seven on each hand, 
with the lofty arches that rise between,—the hand- 
some stone screen, which conceals the choir,—and 
the numerous monuments, many of them of beautiful 
antique workmanship—are displayed to great advantage 
by the abundant light that-is admitted through the 
great western window and the others of smaller dimen- 
sions ranged alone the north and south walls. ‘The tran- 
sept is also lighted by two magnificent windows, which 
have been cut out in the walls of the great towers that 
form its extremities. Near the middle of the north 
side of the choir is a singular erection, of which, we 
believe, there is no other example in the cathedrals of 
this country, but which is not unfrequently found in 
continental churches :—a gallery which appears to have 
been designed for a kind of orchestra, or a place of 
accommodation for a band of instrumental musicians. 
It is supported by 13 pillars, between each two of 
which stands, in a niche, the figure of a person playing 
on a musical instrument. Among the instruments are 
guitars, citterns, horns, flutes, &c. It still retains the 
name of the Minstrels’ Gallery. The entire length of 
the nave is about 175 feet. ‘The choir is about 130 
feet long. On its south side stands the bishop’s 
throne, surmounted by a lofty pyramidical canopy, of 
a light and highly fanciful style of Gothic carpentry. 
An elegant stone screen is now placed behind the 
altar in place of a former one which was of wood. 
Hlere, also, are several ancient monuments, and monu- 
mental chapels, of the richest workmanship. 

The present name of the city of Exeter is radically the 
saine with that which it bore both in the British and in 
the Saxon times, being derived from the river Exe, or 
Esk, which flows past it. Exe, or Esk, properly Wise, 
is merely the old Celtic term for Water. It is the 
same word which forms the first syllable of the Irish 
Usquebaugh aid the Scotch Whisky, both of which 
signify “‘the water of life.’ From this word the 
Britons called the town built here Caer-wisc,—that is, 
the town on the water or river. They wave the same 
name to the town now called Usk, in Monmouthshire, 
which also stands on a river that still retains the ap- 
pellation of the Usk, another corruption of the same 
original British term from which have been formed 





the modern Exe and Esk, The Romans, Latinizing, ' 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[APRIL 26, 


as they usually did, the native word, called both these 
towns Isca, distinguishing the one in Monmouthshire, 
however, as the Isca of the Silures, and the other as the 
Isca of the Damnonii, the tribes in whose districts they 
respectively lay. ‘The modern Exeter is an abbrevia- 
tion of the Saxon Exancester, the termination cester 
(that is, castrum) of which indicates that the place had 
been a fortified station of the Romans, 

The see of the bishop, however, was not trans- 
ferred to this place till a long time after the esta= 
blishment of Christianity throughout England. Theré 
were originally bishoprics both of Cornwall and of 
Devonshire; the seat of the former was first at Bod: 
min and afterwards*at St. German’s, and that of 
the latter, first at Bishop’s Tawton, and then at Cre- 
diton. The see of Cornwall was joined to that of 
Devon a short time before the middle of the eleventh 
century; and, in 1050, the seat of the united dioceses 
was removed from Crediton to Exeter, in which town 
it has ever since remained, and from which it has taken 
its name. The name of the bishop in whose time the 
removal took place was Leofric or Leuric ; and he was 
installed in his new cathedral with great pomp, the 
king, Edward the Confessor, and his queen, both 
taking a leading part in the ceremqny. ‘The. present 
edifice was’ begun early in the twelfth century, by 
Bishop William Warlewast. All that he erected, how- 
ever, was so much injured soon after his death, in the 
course of a siege of the city by King Stephen, in 1136, 
that his successor, Bishop Chichester, found it necessary 
to commence a reparation of the cathedral on the most 
extensive scale. ‘The work was continued by the next 
three bishops, and was not completed till the time of 
the fourth, Bishop Henry Marshall, who died in 1206, 

From this date the cathedral’ remained without 
undergoing’ any alteration that has been recorded till 
the episcopacy of Peter Quivil, who, by the changes 
and additions which he executed himself, and by those 
which were accomplished by his successors in pursuance 
of his plans, deserves to. be regarded as really the 
designer and founder of the present building. Quivil 
was bishop from 1281 to 1291. It was he who first 
formed the transept by cutting arches in the interior 
walls of the two great towers, and piercing those 
opposite with the magnificent windows by which this 
part of the building is now lighted. The repairs thus 
begun, and which eventually extended to the renovation 
of the whole fabric, with the exception of the towers, 
were not entirely completed till the prelacy of Bishop 
Thomas de Brentingham, who presided over the sce 
from 1370 till 1394. But the two prelates, by whom 
the work had, during this interval, been most effectually 
promoted, were Bishop Walter Stapledon and his suc- 
cessor Bishop John Grandisson. Stapledon, by whom 
the choir was completed about the year 1318, was dis- 
tinguished for his munificence. He was the founder of 
Exeter College, Oxford, originally called Stapledon’s Inn, 
and also of Hart Hall inthe same university. Having held 
the office of Lord Treasurer, and been frequently employed 
in embassies aud other high employments of state by 
Edward II., he continued steady to the party of that 
unhappy prince throughout the troubles which agitated 
the close of his reign, ‘and to which he fell a victim a. 
few months before his royal master. He was executed 
in Cheapside by the populace of London, along with 
his brother, Sir Richard Stapledon, on the 15th of 
October, 1326. 

Bishop Grandisson succeeded Stapledon, and pre- 
sided over the see till 1369. He is said by Leland to 
have vaulted the body of the cathedral, and it is pro- 
bable that the gorgeous west front was also his work. 
The antiquary John Hooker (otherwise called Vowel), 
in his ° Description of Exeter,’ written in 1583, says 
of this prelate, that ‘* sequestering himself from all idle 


1884.] 


persons, he kept no more about him than were.abso- 
lutely necessary, in order to compass the charge of such 
mighty works; likewise assembling his whole clergy, 
he persuaded them to bequeath all their goods, &c., to 
the building of the mother church of the diocese ; and 
he also prevailed on sundry temporal men to give of 
their store; as, namely, Hugh Courtney, Earl of 
Devon, from whom he got 200 marks.” 

The Cathedral of Exeter is remarkable for its organ, 
its bells, and its ancient astronomical clock. The 
clock is in the north tower, and is said to have been the 
gift of Bishop Courtney, who occupied the see from 
1478 to 1487. Mr. Britton, however, in his ‘ History 
of Exeter Cathedral,’ has referred to some ancient 
authorities, from which it would appear that there was 
a famous clock here at least a hundred years before 
the time of Bishop Chichester. The present clock, 
besides the hour of the day, indicates the age of the 
moon, and represents the revolution of that luminary 
around the earth. Its face is seven feet in diameter. 
In the north tower is also the famous bell, called the 
Peter, the largest in England except Great Tom of 
Christ’s Church, Oxford. The bell at Christ’s Church 
weighs 17,000 lbs., and this is said to weigh 12,500. 
Unfortunately, the Exeter bell is now so hung that 
it cannot be rung. It, as well as the clock,: is said 
to be the gift of Bishop Courtney; but Mr. Britton, to 
whose work we are indebted for these particulars re- 
specting it, is of opinion that it is probably of still 
greater antiquity. The tradition is, that it was brought 
from the cathedral of Llandaff. Having been cracked 
on the 5th of November, 1611, it was recast in 1676. 
The organ is said to be the most powerful in Europe, 
except that at Haarlem, and even to that it is con- 
sidered to be superior in sweetness of tone, It was 
built by an English artist in 1665, 


THE GONDOLA. 


© Tere is a glorious city in the sea ; 
The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, 
Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed 
Clings to the marble of her palaces. 
No track of men, no footsteps to and fro, 
Lead to her gates. The path lies o’er the sea, 
Invisible ; and from the land we went, 
As to a floating city,—steering in, 
And gliding up her streets as in a dream, 
So smoothly, silently,—by many a dome, 
Mosgue-like, and many a stately portico, 
The statues ranged along an azure sky— 
By many a pile in more than Eastern splendour, 
Of old the residence of merchant kings.” 


Thus, in his ‘ Italy,’ Rogers speaks of Venice,—the 
city which poets have so eloquently described in her 
prosperity, and so feelingly mourned over in her fallen 
estate. Of the same city Lord Byron says,—, 
I jov’d her from my boyhood,—she to me 
Was as a fairy city of the heart, 
Rising like water columns from the sea. 
Of joy the sojourn, and of wealth the mart ; 
And Otway, Ratcliffe, Schiller, Shakspeare’s art, 
Had stamped her image in me.” . 

It is not, however, our present intention to describe 
Venice; but we have quoted these passages as suitably 
introducing an account of the gondola, or boat, employed 
in traversing the marine streets or canals of that city. 

The length of this beautiful boat is nearly thirty feet, 
and the breadth about five ; and it affords accommodation 
for six passengers besides the two rowers. Some, how- 
ever, are much smaller, and are rowed by one person. 
The form is very light and elezant. ‘Fhe gondola is flat- 


bottomed, and its sides slope away considerably,‘ par- 


ticularly towards the after part, which, when the boat is 
empty, rises high out of the water. The seats, which are 


placed at a distance of something less than two-thirds the, 
leugth of the boat from its head, have a tilt over them, | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


Venetian. 


159 


with windows and curtains. This tilt, which is extremely. 
light and elegant, and removable at pleasure, is of 
frame-work, covered with black cloth, ornamented with 
tufts of the same colour. The head is furnished with 
a flat iron beak or prow, of the form shown in the 
wood-cut, which is similar to what is seen in the repre- 
sentation of the ancient galleys; this is never painted, 
but kept highly polished: the stern has a wooden beak, 
not so elevated as that at the head. The seats usually 
have cushions covered with plush, and the floor is 
furnished with carpets. The gondolas of private per- 
sons, as well as those which are let for hire, are inva- 
riably painted black. Formerly the Venetians vied 
with each other in the splendour of their goudolas, but 
SO much inconvenience was found to’result from ‘this 
rivalry that a sumptuary law was issued, many years 
since, prescribing the size, form, and colour, in which 
the gondola still appears. 

The black colour gives them a very sombre, funereal 
appearance, and their first effect on strangers is at 
variance with our notions of Venetian gaiety and ele- 
gance. Our sailors call them “ floating coffins,” 
“* queer craft,’—and, indeed, they have something of a 
hearse-like character about them. When the black’is 
allowed to become brown and rusty, as is now, owing 
to Venetian poverty, too often the case, they look par- 
ticularly shabby and still more dismal. In such a city 
as Venice, intersected in every part. by canals, and 
where there are few parts where people.can walk a 
hundred yards without coming to a high, steep bridge, 
built nearly always, not in inclined. planes, but in steps 
rising over an arch, carriagwes and horses would be of 
nouse. ‘The gondola is the sole equipage of the noble 
In this he is carried on his visits, for his- 
amusement, or to his business, and in this a considerable 
part of his time is passed. His head gondolier is to 
him what the head coachman and the groom are to an 
English gentleman, and something more. When he 
wishes to go out, he does not order “ the horses to be 
put to,” but the gondola to be got ready. As the fares 
are low, even the poorest people make frequent use of 
these boats, and on a saint’s day, or other holiday, they 
are seen gliding in all directions,—their occupants 
sometimes conversing or listening to. stories, more 
frequently playing at tarocco, a game at*cards. 

In rowing, the gondoliers stand on the extreme edge 
of the vessel: the master, or principal gondolier, on the 
right side, with his face towards the head of the boat, 
and his companion on the left side, behind the company. 
On the after part, where the back rower is placed, 
there is a flat piece added over the gunwale cf the boat, 
on which he stands. Thus placed, the gondoliers seem, 
to strangers, in imminent danger of falling overboard. 
But this is an event which rarely happens. ‘They 
balance themselves with apparent ease, and even ele- 
sance, pushing their oars forward, and giving tllem, by 
the action of the wrist, a turn in the water, resembling 
what is called with us “ feathering.” ' The oars are 
made of a very light sort of fir; the blade is not bent 
as in the English oar, but more in-the form of a paddle. 
They do not use row-locks, but’ employ a single fixed 
thowell, of a crooked form, and about a foot lone, 
against which they hold the oar by. pressure only. 


e 


Previous to turning a corner, from one canal ito 


another, the gondoliers have a peculiar cry, rather 
musical and agreeable, designed to give warning to 
gondolas which may be approaching im an opposite 
direction. The vessel appears to glide with great 


rapidity; but whether the motion is more or less 


rapid than that of a Thames wherry, rowed by a pair 
of oars, it is difficult to ascertain, as the gondola 1s 
always employed in still water, while the wherry is rarely 
seen in motiou, but.with the advantage or opposition of 


the tide. 


160 


"The gondoliers were formerly a very interesting portion 

of. the Venetian population, and enjoyed a a. degree of 
consideration beyond that to which persons in a ‘similar 
station of life receive among ourselves. They still are a 
civil and well-behaved body of men, and act as czceroni 
to travellers in showing them the curiosities of Venice, 
and even go with them to the opera-house, and conduct 
them to their boxes, For merly they made the city 
vocal; for, in gliding through its canals, and at other 
times, they sane to one another, in alternate stanzas, 
passages chiefly from Tasso, translated into the Vene- 
tian dialect. ‘The verses they sane were almost inva- 
riably taken from Tasso, and rarely from Ariosto or any 
other poet. ‘The motives for this decided preference 
have been reasonably assiened by several writers to the 
circumstance of Tasso’s ‘ Epic’ relating to the wars of 
the Crusades, where the crescent of Mahomet was made 
to wax. pale before the Christian cross, and to the 
antipathy arising from long warfare, both by land and 
sea, both in Europe and in Asia, that has existed 
between the Venetians and the Turks. Shakspeare’s 
Othello will show, as well as any historical record ‘could 
do, how violent was this feeling. To this may be added 
that the Venetians, even down to our own day, have 
continued an intimate intercourse with Syria, the 
Holy Land, Turkey, and all the Levant, and are thus 
the better prepared to enjoy T'asso’s brilliant anc beau- 
tiful pictures of the ** Orient.” . 

The melody thus sung was calculated for .remote 
effect ; and when the gondoliers of distant vessels sung 
to- mn -other._in alternate verses, the ‘sound, as it 
came “‘ by distance made more sweet,” was singularly 
pleasing. Speaking of this vocal performance, it is 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


aN 


. = - 4 : — a 
ee ee 


[Aprit 26, 1534, 


said, in a note to the fourth Canto of * Childe Harold,’ 
Z It suits particularly well with an idle solitary mariner, 

lying at length in his vessel, at rest on one of tiles 
canals, waiting for his company or for a fare, the tire- 
someness of which situation is somewhat alleviated by 
the songs and poetical stories he has in memory. He 
often raises his voice as loud as he can, which extends 
itself to a vast distance over the tranquil mirror; and 
as all is still around, he is, as it were, in a doit In 
the midst of a large and populous town. Here is no 
rattling of carriages, no noise of foot passengers: a 
silent gondola e@lides now and then by him, of which 
the splashings of the oars are scarcely to be heard. At 
a distance he hears another, perhaps utterly unknown 
to him. Melody and verse immediately attach the 
two strangers; he becomes the responsive echo to the 
former, and exerts himself to be heard as he had heard 
the other, By a tacit convention they alternate verse 
for verse: though the song should last the whole night 
through, they entertain themselves without faticue, and 
the hearers, who are passing between the two, take part 
in the amusement.” But this interesting practice has 
declined with the prosperity and independence of Venice. 
The lagoons are allowed to be choked, and to corrupt 
the air: the spirit of the people has departed: and 
although some old gondoliers remember the usual 
verses, and can execute the chant, it As never ‘voluntarily 
undertaken, and now 


a In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more, 
And silent rows the songless gondolier 
Her palaces are crumbling to the’shore, 
And music meets not always now the ear ¢ 
Those days are gone.” 
Cuinpe Haroun. 








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[Gondola, with a Single Rower..,, 





*," The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn_Fields.: 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
Printed by Witiram Cuowes, Duke Strect, Lambeth, 





Monthly Supplement of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





133. 


Wlarch 31, to April 30, 1834. 











ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL. 


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[North-West View of St. Paul's Cathedral. 


In the Seventh Number of the ‘ Penny Magazine’ we 
gave a Sketch of the history of the successive churches 
which have occupied the spot on which our metropolitan 
Cathedral now stands. In the present Supplement, our 
object will be to point out what is most remarkable in 
the existing building, considered both in an architectural 
and an historical point of view. , 

The cathedral which immediately-preceded the present 
was, in several respects, a remarkable edifice. Some 
of its dimensions probably exceeded those of any other 
church in Christendom. Its length, from east to west, 
was 690 feet, and the spire over the great central tower 
had, before its destruction by an accidental fire in 1561, 
been 520 feet in height.. Within a century after it 
had lost the last-mentioned striking ornament, the pile 
received another of a different character in the beautiful 
western portico, the work of the rich and fanciful genius 
of Inigo Jones. The breaking out of the civil wars, 
however, put a stop to the general restoration of which 


VoL. TL. 


this was but the commencement; and for more than’ 
ten years the cathedral went to decay as fast as neglect 
and ill-usage together could hasten it. 

Although on the ‘return of the royal family and the 


old order of things, the deplorable condition of St. Paul’s 


excited much public attention, it was not till towards the 
close of the year 1663 that active preparations began 
to be made for repairing’it. The works were put under 
the direction of Sir John Denham the poet, who held the 
office of the King’s Surveyor-General, for the duties of 
which, however, he was quite unqualified. The place 
had been given to him in his old age as a reward for 
his loyalty ; but fortunately the appointment of Wren 
as his assistant amply compensated, in so far as the 
public interest was concerned, for Sir John’s de- 
ficiencies. But the removal af the private houses, 
shops, and other buildings which had been erected 
against the walls of the cathedral, was all that had 
been done when the memorable conflagration of the 3rd 


162 


of September, 1666, emphatically called the Great Fire, 


in a few hours reduced the whole to a mass of bare and 
tottering wus. 

Even after this catastrophe, it was for some time 
believed that a restoration of the old building was 
practicable. Commissioners were appointed to con- 
sider what ought to be done; and they held their first 
meeting on the 15th of January, 1668. Mr. Malcolm, 
in his ‘ Londinum Redivivum, has printed several 
extracts from the minutes of their proceedings, still pre- 
sérved in the custody of the dean and chapter of the 
Cathedral, which give an interesting view of the state in 
which the building had been left by the fire. They 
describe the whole east part as “ being under greater 
desolation than the rest, not only the timber roof being 
burnt, and the stone vaults above for the greatest part 
thrown down, and the outwalls there weakened more 
than in other places, but the very inner walls and 
nillars between the choir and north aisle being fallen 
also (and those on the south side in great danger), and 
in their fall having broken open the vaults into St. 
Faith’s Church.” The church of St. Faith was the 
church belonging to the parish of that name, now 
united to the adjoining parish of St. Austin’s; it oc- 
cunied the portion of the Crypts, or, as they were 
vulgarly called, the Crowds of the Old Cathedral, 
extending under the choir and the chapels to the east of 
it. The commissioners go on to describe “ the body of 
the church between the west end and the second pillars, 
above the little north and south doors” as being the 
portion that was least injured; and this they proposed 
to have repaired, so that it might be ready for the per- 
formance of divine worship by the ensuing summer. 
It appears, Malcolm tells us, from a succeeding order 
in the minute-book, that in the general desolation which 
had broken down every man’s landmarks and swept 
away his dwelling-place, ‘‘ sheds and shops had been 
erected by the wretched inhabitants of the neighbour- 
hood within the churchyard, and even against the 
falling walls.” 

Upon further examination, however, it was ascer- 
tained that the walls were in no part sufficiently strong 
to make it safe to give them a new roof to sustain; and 
upon this it was determined that nothing beyond the 
old foundations should be preserved. Meanwhile, on 
the 30th: of July, 1669, Wren was unanimously ap- 
pointed by the commissioners surveyor-general of the 
works, in the room of Denham, who had died a few 
weeks before. It was probably soon after this that the 
plan of an entirely new church was resolved upon. It 
appears that, before the close of the year 1672, Wren 
had submitted to the king several designs for such a 
structure. The one after which the present church was 
built—although with some important deviations, as we 
shall immediately have occasion to notice,—was his 
majesty’s choice, and was probably, also, that which 
Wren himself preferred. 
the various preparations which had to be made, the 
first stone of the new building was not laid till the 21st 
of June, 1675. | 

Wren’s salary, as surveyor of the works, was now 
fixed at 200/. per annum, out of which he had to pay 
for the models and drawings of every part, as well as 
to audit ali the accounts, and to visit the building daily, 
and afford it his constant superintendence. ‘The neces- 
sary junds for carrying on the work were raised by a 
duty upon coals, which had been first imposed expressly 
for this purpose in 1670, and was continued by succes- 
sive acts till 1716. Applications were also made by the 
commissioners for the arrears of certain subscriptions for 
the repair of the cathedral; which had heen entered into 
before the great fire; and considerable sums appear to 
have been in this way obtained from the bishops and 
others, Reynolds, Bishop of Norwich, for instance, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


In consequence, however, of 


[Apri 30, 


paid his full subscription of 4401. ; Sheldon, Archbishop 


of Canterbury, gave 2000/.; and Ward, Bishop of 
Salisbury, 240/. Others, however, declared their ina- 
bility to afford anything ; among the rest, Guy Carleton, 
Bishop of Bristol, whose answer to the commissioners is 
of a singularly melancholy tenor. Their letter of the 
21st of September, 1676, had only reached him, it 
seems, a few days before the 5th of February, in the year 
following, the day on which he writes. “It came to 
Bristol,” he says, “‘ when I was in the north, and came 
then to Newcastle and Durham after I was come away 
from thence; and at last, after a considerable rest in the 
country, round again to Bristol.” Such in those days, 
it appears, was the state of communication between one 
place and another in England, that a letter might be 
four months and a half in reaching even a person of 
such note as a member of the bench of bishops, if he 
happened to be in a remote part of the country. In 
this instance, however, there was possibly some little 
disposition on the part of the bishop to keep out of the 
way of the letter. His lordship proceeds—‘*‘ The busi- 
hess was, to get my name to a contribution towards the 
rebuilding of St. Paul’s Church; a great and good 
work, to which no man would more willingly put a 
helping hand than myself, were I able, and in a capa- 
city to do it; but, indeed, the bishoprick of Bristol is 
both so beggarly of itself, and hath made me so like- 
wise by being the bishop, (who, before I came to it, 
was 1 a condition to live without begging or borrow- 
ing,) that, unless his Majesty please to allow some addi- 
tional support, the dignity must fall to the ground, and 
J with it.’ He concludes by saying that he will most 
readily give something,—‘if God please that hereafter 
my condition may increase to answer so good and pious 
a motive.” 

Considerable difficulties, occasioned by want of 
money, were experienced at different times during the 
progress of the work; and it appears to have been even 
once or twice stopped on this account. But it was at 
last finished in 1710, the whole sum expended on it 
having been 736,0001., or about 20,000/. per anntim 
on an average from its commencement in 1675. The 
same architect, Sir Christopher Wren; the same master- 
mason, Mr. Thomas Strong; and the same bishop, 
Dr. Henry Compton; who had seen the foundation 
stone laid, saw also the placing of the highest stone of 
the lantern over the cupola. 

St. Paul’s is the only English cathedral built in tha 
style of architecture which, to employ the most compre- 
hensive phrase, may be denominated the Classic, as 
distinguished from what is called the Gothic, including 
the various forms that successively arose in Europe 
after the fall of the western empire. Of course, as 
there were no Christian churches in Greece and Rome, 
at least during the flourishing times of architecture and 
the other arts, a modern cathedral cannot exhibit in 
every respect either an imitation of any Greek or 
Roman building, or a complete exemplification of the 
principles of classic architecture. As, on the one hand, 
these edifices, even when most strongly marked with 
all the peculiarities of the Gothic style, retain traces of 
the fashion of the Roman Basilice, or royal palaces, 
from which they took their origin, those of them on the 
other hand that are in general constructed on the 
purest classical principles must in some things differ 
from any classic building that ever existed. Indeed, 
what is called the classic style of architecture, as exem- 
plified in Christian churches, is in all cases something 
of a very mixed description. St. Peter’s at Rome is 
an evidence of this as much as St. Paul’s in London. 
In these two buildings the columns and. the arehes that 
connect them belong, it is true, to the ancient orders, 


but in almost all other respects they are nearly as unlike 


any Greek or Roman building as is York Minster itself. 


1934.] 


Without entering upon the question as to which of 
the two styles possesses the greatest beauty, or suitable- 
ness for ecclesiastical buildings in this country and 
climate, we may at least assume that it was desirable 
to have in England one cathedral not Gothic. That 
of London is the only one of our old cathedrals which 
has been entirely destroyed, and which, consequently, 
it had become necessary to rebuild from the foundation, 
since what may be called the proper age of Gothic 
architecture,—when it was practised, we mean, not 
imitatively, as now, but because it was natural to the 
time,—not as a language is spoken after it is dead by 
those who have learned it from books or at a school, 
but as men speak their vernacular tongue. This par- 
ticular cathedral, therefore,—necessarily new at any 
rate,—seemed to offer a good opportunity for a single 
exemplification of a new style. No Gothic pile was 
sacrificed in order to make room for the classic one. 
At all events, it will be acknowledged that, Sir Chris- 
topher Wren being the architect, it would have been 
unfortunate if the task assigned to him had been the 
erection of a Gothic cathedral. Neither his studies nor 
the character of his genius titted him for excellence in 
Gothic architecture. ‘The two western towers of West- 
minster Abbey, which he erected, show how indifferently 
he would, in all probability, have acquitted himself if 
he had been forced to exert his powers, on this occasion 
also, on an attempt for which they were so little suited : 
and we should have lost a structure which is un- 
doubtedly one of the noblest the world has ever seen, 
let us judge it by what standard we may. 

Like most other cathedrals, St. Paul’s is built in the 
form of a cross, the longer arm of the figure extending 
from east to west. ‘The shorter, or transept, is nearer 
the east than the west end; but there is also at the 
west end what may be called a smaller transept, in 
respect at least to the external form of the building. 
The entire length of the church, from east to west, is 
900 feet, and that of the proper transept 285. ‘The 
breadth of the body of the church is 107 feet, and that 
of the transept nearly the same. Over the intersection 
of the transept and the nave rises a dome, surmounted 
by a lantern, a globe, and across; and two campanile 
towers, or belfries, also ascend from the two extremities 
of the west front. The height from the pavement of 
the church to the top of the cross over the dome is 356 
feet; and the campanile towers are each about 220 feet 
in height. The general height of the walls is about 90 
feet. The three entrances to the church are at the 
west end, and at the north and south ends of the 
transept. The two last-mentioned porches are each 
formed by a portion of a circle. ‘The line of the east 
end of the church is also broken by a semi-circular 
projection of its central portion. 

Such is a general outline of the external form of 
the Cathedral. But the vast pile, which would be im- 
posing from its mere magnitude, had it little more to 
boast of, is invested with the highest degree of beauty 
and grandeur by the superb decorations with waich 
almost every part of it is enriched. © The west front is 
now generally admitted to be superior to any other in 
existence ; not excepting that of St. Peter's. The 


grand portico in its centre consists of two parts; the 


lower formed by twelve columns of the Corinthian, and 
the upper by eight of the composite order. Wren’s 
original idea was to employ only one order, and a 
single series of pillars ascending from the ground to 
the majestic height (including pedestals, capitals, and 
other ornaments above and below) of nearly 90 fect. 
In simplicity and purity, this elevation would have 
been superior to the present ; and the effect would pro- 
bably have been exceedingly noble. But the design 
was found of impracticable execution, from the im- 
possibility of finding blocks in the Portland quarries of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘puny dimensions. 


163 


the requisite dimensions. It may be safely said that 


the great architéct, by the arrangement actually adopted, 
has made as much as it was possible to do of the 
materials to which he was confined, and more than was 
ver before made of the same space. ’Lo a spectator 
coming up Ludgate Hill, which must be regarded as 
the grand avenue to the metropolitan Temple, this 
facade, seen throngh the narrow opening, which almost 
cuts off every other object except the portico, the 
towers, and the dome of the Cathedral, presents a com- 
bination of majesty and beauty which cannot be con- 
templated by the intelligent eye without the deepest 
sense of the presence and the power of triumphant art. 
It sometimes happens that the rays of the afternoon or 
evening sun, coming through a clear atmosphere, are 
thrown strongly upon the columned and sculptured 
display, while a black cloud, veiling the opposite quarter 
of the heaven, forms a-back-ground, from which the 
whole pile projects in full relief, and so as to produce 
the finest contrast of light and shade. In these cir- 
cumstances the west front of St. Paul’s is seen in ali its 
glory; and, although the street is both too narrow to 
afford a view of the whole building, and its direction is 
such as to show what it does discover only obliquely, it 
may be doubted if a racre full and direct exposure at 
this point would produce an effect so striking and 
noble. It has indeed been disputed whether, upon the 
whole, this magnificent structure would be seen ‘to 
ereater or less advantage if it stood in the midst of a 
large open space instead of being surrounded, as‘ it 
actually is, on all sides by other buildings that approach 
within a few yards of its walls. It is apprehended by 
some that, if these surrounding’ buildings should’ be 
removed, the Cathedral would lose much of the im- 
posing appearance which it now derives from the con- 
trast between its vast bulk and their comparatively 
We are inclined to think that the 
church has magnitude enough to sustain itself without 
this foil, and that even if it stood in the midst of Salis- 
bury Plain, with nothing else within sight but the sky 
and the great panorama of nature, it would be a grand 
object. But be that as it-may, no such perfect solitude 
and absence of all objects of comparison would be pro- 
duced by merely removing the nearest of the building's 
by which, as it stands, it is on all sides so closely 
environed. Houses and streets innumerable would be 
still around it ;-—it would still look down upon the 
whole mighty world of, London, although there should 
be no other*building within a hundred or a hundred 
and fifty yards of it. That distance would not take 
them out of the scope of the eye in whose field cf vision 
it was the principal object; but it would allow every 
part of the cathedral to be seen from the proper point 
of view, and the whole extent of the edifice to be taken 
in at once, which at present can nowhere be done. 
Eiven of its magnitude we have now no other means of 
obtaining an idea except by walking round it. Seen 
from a more distant station than is now to be had,— 
from the front of the New Post-Office, for instance, 
with the intervening parts of Newgate Street, Pater- 
noster Row, and the houses in the churchyard ‘re- 
moved,—it would fall upon'the eye and the mind with 
a simplicity and completeness of effect altogether new. 
Its size, we are convinced, would seem vaster than ever. 
But, at all events, whatever is admirable in the building 
apart from its mere magnitude, is at present in inany 
parts nearly hidden from view altogether, and,’ in 
others, can only be seen with difficulty, and under such 
disadvantages as destroy more than half its maguificence 
or beauty. Excepting the view already mentioned that 
is obtained of the west front from Ludgate Strect, 
there is scarcely a good view to be had of any other 
part of the body of the church. The towers and dome, 
indeed, ‘are seen to great advantage from Blackiriars 


Y 2 


164 


and Waterloo Bridges ; but none of the under portion 
of the building is visible from these points. The 
glimpse afforded by the opening into Cheapside, at the 
north-east angle of the churchyard, is too oblique, 
besides being “extremely limited ; and the east end is 
so pressed upon and hidden by the buildings forming 
the opposite side of the street, as, unless it may be from 
the windows of these houses, to be nearly invisible from 
any point whatever. 

After the west front, the north and south porches, 
and the latter — same the most superb ap- 


pp \ 7 











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tiie, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Aprin 30, 


pearance. The entaklature over the principal entrance 
contains a representation of the miraculous conversion 
of St. Paul, by Francis Bird. Over the pediment are 
placed three statues; that on the apex representing 
St. Paul, that to the north St. Peter, and that to the 
south St. James, The entablature of the northern 
portico presents a carving of the royal arms supported 
by angels, and over the south door is a Pheenix rising 
from the flames, with the word Resurgam—lI shall rise 
again—under it, in allusion to the destruction and 
restoration of the cathedral. The bird is carved by 





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[Interior of St, Paul’s from under tlie Dome.] 


1834.] 


Gabriel Cibber, the father of the more celebrated Colley, 
and also the sculptor of the two statues, of great merit, 
which formerly stood over the front gate of the Old 
Bethlehem, in Moorfields. Bird modelled the scrolls, 
ball and cross, for the lantern, and the pines for the 
towers. He also executed the statue of Queen Anne, 
with the statues of England, France, Ireland, and 
America, seated at her feet, before the west front of 
the churen ; and for this group he received in all 11804. 
Her majesty’s nose was struck off by a lunatic nearly 
a century ago, and has never been restored. The 
chiselling on the exterior of the cathedra) is already 
everywhere greatly defaced, partly owing to the smoke 
which has settled upon it, but more from the effects of 
the weather upon the freestone,. which unfortunately is 
very ill adapted to resist the winds and rains of such a 
climate as ours. | 

Before leaving the exterior of the cathedral, we 
ought, perhaps, to notice the iron balustrade, or railing, 
inclosing the portion of the churchyard immediately 
around the building, which is still used as a cemetery. 
It appears to have excited extraordinary adiniration 
when it was first erected, although it will hardly 
be looked upon as anything very wonderful in the 
present day. It consists of between two and three 
thousand palisades, each five feet and a half in height, 
and cost above 11,0002. It was cast at Lamberhurst 
in Kent... Maitland, in his ‘ History of London,’ 
describes this as “ the most magnificent iron balustrade, 
perhaps, in the universe.” ‘The celebrated Paui’s Cross, 


at which sermons were anciently delivered in the open. 


air, and which is famous both in the ecclesiastical 
and the civil history of the country, stood in the nor- 
thern part of this inclosed area, a little to the east of 
the centre. It appears to have subsisted down to 
the commencement of the civil wars in the reign: of 
Charles I. ; and the sermons preached at St. Paul’s— 
for the maintenance of which, under that name, there 
ale several ancient .benefactions—are still called Paul’s 
Cross Sermons, though now delivered in the choir of 
the cathedral. . & 

The door by which the public are now usually ad- 
mitted into the cathedral, both when it is open for the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


—— Sd pee me ee eg ee eee 


performance of divine service and at other times, is that. 


of the north transept. ‘The effect of this regulation is, 
that whatever of majesty and harmonious beauty -there 
is in the plan and disposition of the interior is lost to 
the visiter on his first advance. But this is not all. 
Nearly the whole of the nave from the west end to the 
transept is railed off, so that visiters are completely shut 
out from the only part ofthe church from which its 
proportions can be seen to full advantage. <A person, 
on the contrary, entering from the great western door, 
has before him the entire length of the nave, as far as 
the entrance to the choir, presenting an unbroken vista 
of nearly 340 feet, with so much of the choir as can be 
seen through the iron folding door at its termination. 
If the door of the choir be open, the prospect is ex- 
tended to the extremity of the building, a distance of 
500 feet; and the spacious temple stands revealed in all 
its magnitude and grandeur. The parts of the building 
at the west end, which project on each side beyond the 
line of the nave, form, as has been already intimated, 
no part of the body of the church,’ the north tower 
being a belfry, and that to the south containing a stair- 
case, while beyond the former is the apartment called 
the Morning Chapel, and beyond the latter the Con- 
sistory Court. Both these rooms are: separated from 
the nave by screens of wood. The nave is divided into 
three portions, a middle and two side aisles, by two 
rows of massive pillars, two of which on each hand are 
square, and the others oblong, in shape. In Wren’s 
original design, the nave was without these divisions: 
and he is said to have felt so strongly the injury done 


165 


by their introduction to the effect which he intended 
to produce, that he shed. tears when compelled to admit 
them on the ground that such an arrangement was 
conceived to be essential to the character of a cathedral. 
According to one account, the point was carried against 
the representations of the architect chiefly through the 
influence of the Duke of York (afterwards James IT.), 
whose object is supposed to have been the adaptation 
of the church to the forms of the catholic service. 
The transept is also divided into a central portion and 
side aisles by means of two immense oblong pillars, or 
rather piers, on each hand. 7. 
_ While, notwithstanding its inferior dimensions, the 
external appearance of St. Paul’s has been preferred by 
many to that of St. Peter’s, it is admitted’ by all that 
the interior of the English cathedral. will.bear no com- 
parison with that of the Roman. Both in its spacious- 
ness, and still more in the ornamental splendour that 
blazes from every side, the latter far surpasses the 
former. The upward view from: under the dome of 
St. Peter’s especially, from the vast height:to which the 
eye 1s carried, as well as the glorious pictorial display 
with which it is filled, has been generally acknowledged 
to have no rival in the world. The corresponding spot 
in St. Paul’s, however, is also that ‘from which the 
surrounding scene assumes its most imposing aspect. 
There is extent enongh to convey an impression of 
extraordinary maguificence ; and the dome, though not 
so elevated as that of St. Peter's, is still very lofty. 
The form of the concave, which approaches considerably 
nearer to that of a circle,—the height being equal to 
a diameter and a half, while in St. Peter’s it is equal to 
two diameters,—has also been considered more beautiful 
than that of its rival. e —— 

The cupola is lighted from the lantern over it. It is 
painted by Sir James Thornhill, the subjects being 
taken from the history of St. Paul. It was while at 
work on these pictures that Sir James is said to have 
made the narrow escape of which, probably, most of 
our readers have heard. Stepping backwards one day 
to observe the effect of what he had been doing, he had 
reached the edge of the scaffold, and would, by another 
step, have been precipitated over it, when a friend who 
happened to be with him snatched up a- brush and 
began to bedanb the picture—an act which; instantly 
making the painter rush forward, in surprise and alarm, 
to prevent the threatened obliteration. of his work, 
saved him from destruction. The paintings, which 
have.much merit, are now unfortunately .defaced in 
many, places by the damp, which inattention to the 
regular ventilation of the church has allowed to act 
upon them. — = , 

The screen of wrought iron which separates the choir 
from the nave is very elegant. Over this the organ is 
placed. But the principal thing deserving of attention 
in the choir is the exquisite carving of the stalls, the 
work of the celebrated Grinling Gibbons. | The altar 
is plain, and almost mean, a magnificent design which 
Wren furnished for this part of the cathedral never 
having been executed. Near the altar stands the 
bishop’s throne, distinguished by the mitre with which 
it is surmounted. The pew in which his lordship sits 
on ordinary occasions is one of the stalls on the south 
side of the choir. Fronting it, on the opposite side, 1s 
the seat of the lord mayor. The dean’s stall 1s under 
the organ gallery. The pulpit now stands towards the 
middle of the floor, having been brought forward from 
the spot where it was originally placed near the bishop’s 
stall. The choral service is performed here twice every 
day,—at three quarters past nine in the morning, and 
at a quarter past three in the afterncon;—on which 
occasions, of course, the church is open to the public. 
Sermons are also preached by the dean and canons 
residentiary on Sundays and holidays, and every Wed- 


166 


nesday and Friday during Lent. Divine service is 
likewise performed in the Morning Chapel every week- 
day morning, at seven o’clock in the summer and at 
eight in the winter. The full establishment of the 
cathedral, we may here mention, consists of the follow- 
ing officers :—the dean, to whom the supreme jurisdic- 
tion belongs; the precentor, or chaunter, whose office 
is now a sinecure; the chancellor; the treasurer; the 
five archdeacons of London, Middlesex, Essex, Col- 
chester, and St. Albans; thirty major cations, or pre- 
bendaries, four of whom are resident; twelve minor 
canons, and six vicars choral, besides the children of 
the choir. One of the vicars choral officiates as organist, 
and three of the minor canons hold the places of sub- 
dean, librarian, and succentor, or under precentor. 

The objects in the interior of St. Paul’s, by which 
the attention of visitors is usually first attracted and 
Jongest detained, are the monnmental sculptures erected 
in honour of various distinguished individuals. ‘The 
several large spaces, bare of all ornament, presented by 


the walls and massive piers, had lone been felt to pro-- 


duce a heavy effect. ‘There is every reason, indeed, to 
believe that these vacant spaces were intended by Sir 
Christopher Wren to serve for the receptacles of statues 
or paintings, and that it was in this view he left them 
so unrelieved as they are by any architectural decoration. 
In 1773, after the Royal Academy had been some years 
established, Sir Joshua Reynolds, as president, made an 
offer to Bishop Newton, then dean, in the name of 
himself, Mrs. Kauffman, West, Cipriani, Barry, and 
Dance, to furnish gratis a series of pictures on scrip- 
tural subjects, to be placed in the cathedral. ‘This 
liberal proposition is said to have been well received, 
both by the dean and chapter, and by the king; but 
Archbishop Cornwallis and Dr. Terrick, the bishop 
of the diocese, having opposed the scheme, it was 
abandoned. Some years afterwards, however, the 
enthusiastic admiration excited by the philanthropic 
exertions of the celebrated Howard led to an application 
being made to the dean and chapter for liberty to erect 
some testimony of the public feeling in the metropolitan 
cathedral. It was favourably received; but, after sub- 
scriptions to a considerable amount had been collected, 
the determined opposition of the person whom it was 
intended thus to honour made it necessary to relinquisn 
the design. On Howard’s death, however, very soon 
after, 1t was revived; and the late Mr. Bacon was 
commissioned to furnish a statue of the illustrious 
philanthropist for thirteen hundred guineas. This 
monument was opened for public inspection on the 
23rd of February, 1796 ; and soon after the statue of 
Dr. Johnson, by the same sculptor, was erected over 
against it. They occupy the corresponding corners of 
the two great piers on each hand of the avenue from 
the transept towards the choir. 

This commencement has been followed up by the 
introduction of other monuments, from time to time, 
for the most part voted by parliament, in honour of 
distinguished naval and military officers, though there 
are a few also to persons eminent in the annals of 
literature and art. Besides that of Dr. Johnson, for 
instance, there are those of Sir William Jones, and Sir 
Joshua Reynolds, But in general, while civil eminence 
has been commemorated in Westminster Abbey, St. 
Paul’s has been made a Pantheon for those who have 
immortalized themselves by their brilliant achievements 
in the defence of their country. Here are, among 
others, Elhot, the heroic defender of Gibraltar, and 
Howe, and Jervis, and Duncan, the victors of Brest, 
and Cape St. Vincent, and Camperdown; and Nelson, 
and Collingwood, and Abercrombie, and Moore, and 
Picton. .There are above forty monuments in all. 

Not much can be said in praise of the style of art in 
Which most of the monuments in St, Paul’s are executed, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Aprit 30; 


It is to be lamented that, with few exceptions, we have 
in these works, instead of a-vivid and poetical transcript 
from nature, almost in every instance only some hard- 
laboured, half intelligible, and totally ineffective, alle- 
gorical invention. ‘Those from the chisel of Chantrey 
afford almost the only examples of exemption from this 
unfortunate taste. The monument, by this eminent 
artist, to Colonel Cadogan, who was mortally wounded 
at the battle of Victoria, and the tablet by the same to 
the memory of Major General Bowes, slain while head- 
ing his men at the storming of Salamanca,-in both of 
which performances is represented with exquisite skill 
the living scene of strife and carnage closing in victory, 
—a whole poem in a picture,—are by far the finest and 
most touching in the whole collection. Compared to 
these, the cold decorations with which most of the 
others are incumbered hardly affect the heart or the 
imagination more than do the flourishes of a writing 
master. There are several works of Flaxman’s here, 
—among the rest a monument to the memory of Lord 
Nelson; but even he has surrendered himself to the 
prevailing affectation, and although the statue of the 
hero of Trafalgar is characteristic and expressive, the 
miscellaneous assemblage of sea-gods, and hons, and - 
Britannias, and sailor-boys, on the pedestal, is a mere 
chaos of splendid absurdities, and surely as insipid in 
effect as it is extravagant in conception. There is con- 
siderable truth and vigour, though of a something 
prosaic quality, in the statue of Johnson by the elder 
Bacon ; and that of Lord Heathfield (General Elliot), 
and some others by Rossi, have also a masculine force 
and massiveness. ‘he statue of Sir William Jones, by 
the younger Bacon, which has been sometimes praised, 
is unimaginative, almost below actual life, and certainly 
far below any thing deserving the name of art. 

After having viewed this part of the Cathedral, the 
visitor will be conducted, if he chooses, to the vaults, 
or crypt, underneath. The crypt under the eastern 
part of old St. Paul’s, as we have already stated, was 
used for the performance of divine service, as the church 
of one of the city parishes—that of St. Faith. This 
was a common appropriation of the vaults of our old 
cathedrals. As one instance we may mention the place 
of worship long possessed by the French and Swiss 
Protestants of Canterbury, under the choir of that 
cathedral. The crypt of the cathedral of Glasgow, 
also, still is, or was lately, employed as a parish church, 
under the name, we believe, of the Laigh (that is, the 
Low) Kirk. The crypt under St. Paul’s is now used 
only as a place of interment. Although the euide leads 
the way down to it with a lighted torch in his hand, 
there is no reason for alarm or any uncomfortable feel- 
ing ;—it is both well-lighted, and apparently dry and 
airy. Among the persons interred here are Sir Chiris- 
topher Wren, the painters Reynolds, Barry, Opie, Wes, 
and Lawrence; the late John Rennie, the architect ; 
and Nelson, with Lord Collingwood on his one hand, 
and the late Earl of Northesk on the other. ‘Lhe spot 
in which Wren’s body rests is generally said to be that 
over which stood the high altar of the old church ;— 
although, if that be the case, the former building must 
have occupied a very different site from the present. 
Wren’s grave is in the south aisle of the present crypt. 
It is covered with a flat stone, sunk into the pavement, 
with an inscription on it in English, merely stating that 
he died in 1723, in the 91st year of his age. Hung 
on the adjoining wall is a tablet containing the Latin 
epitaph, a copy of which is now placed much more 
appropriately over the entrance to the choir, ending 
with the striking words—* Lector, si monumentum 
requiris, circumspice ;’’—HReader, if you would behold 
his monument, look around you. | 

Much regret and indignation has been expressed on. 
the subject of the alleged neglect which has left the 


1834.1. THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 167 


ereat architect without any sculptured memorial for- I‘rom the Whispering Gallery, the visiter may ascend 
mally dedicated to his honour in the temple. which he } successively to-.the first and second gallery around the 
raised. We hope the country never will ‘be euilty-of | outside of the dome, and even into the ball itself, which 
the bad taste of endeavouring, by any such attempt, to | 1s capacious enough to hold perhaps half a dozen people 
rival the mighty monument of Wren’s genius which he | at once. <A view is obtained from these stations of the 
has here erected for himself, and under which he | metropolis and the surrounding country, as far as the 
actually lies entombed. ‘To give him another would be | smoke will allow the eye to penetrate ; but, except at 
in effect to deprive him of this, for which no other | an early hour in the morning, the atmosphere at a short 
could be a conipensatioun. distance is generally thick and obscure. The greater 

The graves of all the other eminent individuals we have | part of the city, however, and so much of the river as 
mentioned are marked by inscriptions on the pavement, | passes through it, may usually be very clearly seen. 
in the same manner with Wren’s, except those of Nelson | But the ascent is so toilsome and tedious, a great part 
and Collingwood, whose remains are deposited in what | of it being perfectly dark, that most people will pro- 
are called altar-tombs, that containing the dust of Nelson | bably prefer enjoying the same view, as it has been 
being formed of a black marble sarcophagus, which had | transferred to canvas at the Colosseum in the Regent’s 
been originally prepared by order of Cardinal Wolsey } Park, by the clever and most accurate pencil of Mr. 
for a tomb to himself in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor. | Horner. In perfection of illusion that panorama cer- 
It is placed directly under the centre of the dome, where | tainly transcends all other attempts of the kind. 
it 1s guarded, as it were, by the four immense piles, The following, according to the guide-books, are the 
each about forty feet square, which support that crown- | prices of admission to the different parts of St. Paul’s: 
ine ornament of the cathedral. In the crypt are also to | —to the body of the church, 2d; to the Whispering 
be. seen a few mutilated statues which had adorned the | Gallery and the outside galleries, 4d.; to the Library, 
old cathedral, and are the only memorials of that vene- | 2d.; to the Modei-room, 6d¢.; to the Geometrical 
rable building which have been preserved. ‘The most | Staircase in the south turret, 2d.; tothe great bell, 2d. ; 
remarkable among them is one of Donne, the poet, | to the ball, 2s.; and-to the vaults, ls.; in all, 4s. 6d. 
representing him wrapt in his shroud, which has been | from each visitor. It is discreditable to those who have 
often engraved. the regulation of the establishment that the persons in 

A description of the other curiosities of the cathedral | attendance, after receiving these sufficient fees, are per- 
belongs rather to the guide-books than to sucha general | mitted to importune visitors for further gratuities. It 
sketch as this, in which our object is principally to | is true these applications may be refused; but they are 
direct attention to those features in the building itself, | at any rate annoying, and as begging is a nuisance not 
or in the objects connected with it, which possess inost | permitted in our public streets, it ought not to be per- 
of a moral interest. We may merely meiition, however, | mitted here. Another thing deserves to be mentioned : 
that among the other things which are shown are the , if free admission into the body of the cathedral is to 

| 
| 


ES 











Library, the Model Room, as it is called, the Whis- | be refused to the public, the restriction can only be 
pering Gallery, and the Clock-works. In the library | justified on the ground that it is necessary for the 
the attention of visitors is directed to the curious floor, | proper preservation of the monuments and other orna- 
in which a great number of geometrical figures are ; ments of the building. But the present appearance of 
formed by pieces of variously-coloured oak. ‘The books | many of the monuments seems to indicate that after a 
consist chiefly of a collection left by Bishop Compton. | visitor has paid his twopence for admission, it 1s con- 
Among them are a few manuscripts, some of which, | sidered a matter of indifference what mischief he may do 
from the incriptions on them, appear to have belonged | to these works of art. Such parts of them as are within 
to the ancient cathedral. ‘This room is in the south | reach are at least scribbled all over with names and 
gallery, and the model-room is on the north side of the | other impertinencies, if they are not more seriously dis- 
church, directly opposite to it. Here is shown a model ; figured and injured, ‘The repetition of these wanton 
of the cathedral, according to what is said to have been | acts of destruction may even be said to be almost 
the favourite design of Sir Christopher Wren. ‘he | encouraged or invited by the marks made being allowed 
whispering gallery runs round the base of the dome, ;} to remain without any attempt to remove them. If 
and, besidés its renowned echo, affords by far the best ; they cannot be rubbed or washed off, so much the 
view of Sir James Thornhill’s paintings. ‘The view | more reason have we to deplore the negligence which 
downwards into the body of the church from this station | allows them to be made. 

is also very striking. ‘The dial-plate of the clock is It appears to us that the fact of the disfigurement of 
fifty-seven feet in circumference, or nearly twenty | these monuments, under a system which affects to 
in diameter,—and the minute hand is eight feet long, | preserve them by making the people pay to see them, 
—dimensions that would scarcely be conjectured by | is conclusive as to the folly of such a system. If the 
those who have only seen it from the street below. | doors of St. Paul’s were thrown open, as they ought to 
The great bell, on which the hours are struck, was cast | be, and as York Minster is, those who turned aside 
from the metal of a very ancient bell which hung in a | from their daily avocations to gaze upon its lofty roofs 
square tower opposite to the entrance to Westminster | and solemn aisles, and trophies of national reuown, 
Hall, and had rung the judges to their courts from the | would be far too deeply inspired with the genius of the 
time of Richard II. Its weight is between 11,000 and | place to commit any wanton outrages or to permit 
12,000 pounds. ‘“ The sound of this enormous mass | others to commit them. It is the spirit of exclusion 
of metal,” says Malcolm, “ is terrific, when in the colon- | which has made the English people mischievous amidst 
nade surrounding it; but at a distance the tone is very | works of art,— or, at any rate, which has brought upon 
musical.” The great bell of St. Paul’s is only tolled on | them the accusation. We doubt if the English people 
occasion of the deaths and funerals of members of the | are so. It is said that one of the statues in West- 
royal family, of the Bishop of London, and.of the Lord | minster Abbey was defaced by a Westminster scholar ; 
Mayor. Malcolm, writing in 1803, says that it: had ‘and that the said scholar, grown to the estate of author- 
been silent since 1790, when it had announced the | ship, reproached the English rabble for violating the 
death of the Duke of Cumberland, the brother of | sanctuary of the dead in the instance of this very 
George ITI. | statue. 3 





168 





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#.° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 


Printed by Wittram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





134.) 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





[May 3, 1834. 





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[Wolf Hunt, after a Picture by Snyders. } 


Tue essential characteristics of the common wolfmay 
be thus described :—the tail straight; the hide of a 
greyish yellow, with a black oblique stripe on the fore- 
legs of those which are full grown, and the eyes, oblique. 
The ancients had an opinion that the neck of the wolf 
was all of one solid bone; but we need. not say that 
this is one of the many opinions “by. which their igno- 
rance on points of very common knowledge is de- 
monstrated. . The average height of the wolf is about 
two feet six inches before, -and-two feet’ four inches 
behind; and the length of the body, from the tip of the 
muzzle to the beginning of the tail, three feet eight 
inches. The cubs of the wolf are born with the eyes 
shut; the female goes with young sixty-three days; 
in these respects exactly resembling the dog. The 
average duration of their life is from fifteen to twenty 
years. ek . 5 

The great resemblance between the wolf and the 
dog has been frequently remarked ; and some na- 
turalists consider them of the same species. The polar 
voyagers state, that they had often much difficulty to 
distinguish the dogs of the Esquimaux from the wolves ; 
and yet, notwithstanding this external resemblance, 
there is a very essential difference in their characters, 
and the dog and the wolf are, in all circumstances, the 
natural foes of each other. Captain Parry, in the 
Journal of his Second Voyage, says, “A flock of 
thirteen wolves, the first yet seen, crossed the ice in the 


bay from the direction of the huts, and passed near the 
Vou, IIT. 





| served on settine 


ships. ‘They so much resemble the Esquimaux dogs, 
that, had it not been for some doubts among the officers 
who had seen them, whether they were so or not, and 
the consequent fear of doing these poor people an 
irreparable, injury, we might have killed-most of them 
the same evening, for they came boldly to look for 


food. within a few yards of the Fury, and remained 


there for some time.” Again, he says in his Journal, 
a few days after, ‘‘ These animals were so hungry and 
fearless as to take away some of the Xsquimaux dogs in 


a snow-house near the Hecla’s stern, though the men 


were at the time within a few yards of them.” These 
dogs set up a fearful howl at the approach of a wolf; 
and, in speaking of the resemblance between the two, 
it should be mentioned that wolves have not the bark 
of a dog, but only a howl; and, as the Esquimaux dog 
also dues not bark, this, and the other circumstances of 
close resemblance, have led to the conclusion that this 
animal is no other than a domesticated wolf. 

The following passage in ° Sir A. de Capel Broke’s 
Travels,’ while it illustrates the enmity of the wolf to the 
dog, seems to show that the latter may be himself de- 
ceived by the resemblance to his own species. “I ob- 

¢ out from Sormjile, the last post, that 
the peasant who drove my sledge was armed with a cut- 
lass; and, on inquiring the reason, was told that, the 
day preceding, while he was passing in his sledge the 
part of the forest we were then in, he nad encountered a 
wolf, which was so daring that it actually sprung over 


170 


the hinder part of the sledge he was driving, and at- 
tempted to carry off a small dog which was sitting behind 
him. During my journey from Tornea to Stockholm, I 
heard every where of the ravages committed by wolves, 
not upon the human species or the cattle, but chiefly 
upon the peasants’ dogs, considerable numbers of which 
had been devoured. I was told that these were the favour- 
ite. prey of this animal; and that, in order to seize upon 
them with the greater ease, it puts itself into a crouching 
posture, and begins to play several antic tricks to attract 
the attention of the poor dog, which, caught by these 
seeming demoustrations of friendship, and fancying 
it to be one of his own species, from the similarity, 
advances towards it to join in the gambols, and is 
carried off by its treacherous enemy. Several peasants 
that I conversed with mentioned having been eye- 
witnesses ef this circumstance.’ 'The animosity of the 
dog to the wolf does not seem inferior to that of the 
wolf to the dog. Associated in packs, and encouraged 
hy men, dogs will chase the wolf with the most daring 


ardour, regardless of his greater pliysical streneth. 


Our wood-cut represents a conflict of this nature, = high 
was not uncommon in parts of Europe during the 
middle ages. 

Wolves are cruel and cowardly animals, with a pecu- 
liarly sinister expression of countenance. They fly from 
man except when impelled by extreme hunger, when they 
prowl by night in great droves through villages, and 
destroy any persons they meet. It is said of them, as 
of seyeral other beasts of prey, that when they have 
once obtained the taste of human blood, they give it the 
preference to any other. Very fearful accounts are on 
record of the rayages committed by wolves, when in 
hard weather they associate in immense flocks. So 
lately as 1760 such terror is said to have been excited. 
in France by the rayages of wolves, that public 
prayers were offered for their destruction. ‘The fol- 
lowing statement from Captain Franklin shows the 
extreme cunning of the wolves in the pursuit of a crea- 
ture of superior speed :—* We passed the remains of 
two red-deer, lying at the bases of perpendicular cliffs, 
from the summits of which they had probably been 
forced by wolves. ‘These voracious animals, which are 
inferior in spéed to the moose or red-deer, are said fre- 
quently to have recourse to this expedient, in places 
where extensive plains are bounded by precipitous 
cliffs. While the deer are quietly grazing, the wolves 
assemble in great numbers; and, forming a crescent, 
creep slowly towards the herd, so as not to alarm them 
much at first; but when they perceive that they have 
fairly hemmed in the unsuspecting creatures, and cut 
off their retreat across the plain, they move more 
quickly, and with hideous yells terrify their prey, and 
urge them to flight by the only open way, which is to- 
wards the precipice ; appearing to know that, when the 
herd is once at full speed, it is easily driven over the 
cliff—the rearmost urging on those that are before. 
The wolves then descend at their leisure and feast on 
the mangled carcasses.’ 

The gentleness of wolves in confinement seldom con- 
tinues after they are full grown: they generally appear 
to acquire a fear instead of a love of man, which mani- 
fests itself in a morose and vindictive impatience. ‘Phe 
cowardly ferocity of their natures is with difficulty re- 
strained by discipline: they are not to be trusted. And 
yet there are instances of wolves having been domesti- 
cated to such an extent as to exhibit the greatest 
attachment to man—as great as can be shown bya 
dog. M. F. Cuvier gives a very interesting account of 
a tame wolf which had all the obedience towards and 
affection for his master, which the most sawacious and 
gentle of domestic dogs could possibly evince. He was 
brought up in the same manner as a puppy, and conti- 
nued with his original owner till he was full grown. He 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 3, 


was then presented to the Menagerie at Paris. For many 
weeks he was quite disconsolate at the separation from 
his master, who had been obliged to travel ; he would 
scarcely take any food, and was ‘indifferent to his keepers. 
At length he became attached to those about him, and 
he seemed to have forgotten his old affections. His 
master returned after an absence of eighteen months: 
the wolf heard his voice amidst the crowd in the gardens 
of the menagerie, and, being set at liberty, displayed 
the most violent joy. Again was he separated from his 
friend ; and again was his grief as extreme as on the 
first occasion. After three years’ absence, his master 
once more returned. It was evening, and the wolf's 
den was shut up from any external observation ; yet the 
instant the man’s voice was heard, the faithful animal 
set up the most anxious cries; and the door of his cage 
being opened, he rushed towards his friend,—leaped 
upon his shoulders,—licked his face,—and threatened 
to bite his keepers when they attempted to separate 
them. When the man left him, he fell sick, and 
refused all food; and from the time of his recovery, 
which was long very doubtful, it was always dangerous 
for a stranger to approach him. He appeared as if he 
scorned any new friendships, 

The wolf still continues to infest the northern 
regions of Europe, and those countries where dense 
forests are not yet cleared. It was extirpated much 
earlier in England than in any other country of Europe. 
Ancient chronicles state that, in the tenth century, King 
Edgar attempted to extirpate these animals in England 
by commuting the punishments for certain crimes into 
the acceptance of a certain number of wolves’ tongues 
from each criminal; and, in Wales, by converting the 
tax of gold and silver into an annyal tribute oF 300 
wolves’ heads. In after times their destriiction was 
promoted by certain rewards, and some lands were held 
on condition of destreying the wolves which infested the 
parts of the kingdom in which they were situated. In 
1281, these animals troubled several of the Enylish 
counties,’ but after that period our records make no 
mention of them. The last wolf known in Scotland 
was killed in 1680, and in Ireland one was killed in 
1701, 

Most of the anove facts are drawn from ‘ Menageries,’ 


vol. i. 


MUSIC.—( Continued.) 


Wer now come to our street music; and we bee 
leave to charge its goodness or badness, not upon the 
performers, but upon those who pay them, and who 
most clearly part with their money not to get rid of a 
nuisance, for that they all know would but bring it 
back again with interest, but because they have some 
satisfaction in hearing that for which they pay. And 
we would by no means wish to be harsh towards the 
performers themselves, who are but the index of the 
public taste, to which if an organ out of tune is per- 
fectly satisfactory, the owner would be a mere spend- 
thrift if he paid his money for getting the pipes set in 
order. 

That noise, in all its varieties, is a pleasant thing to 
the public ear, is proved by the fact that all large towns 
have a regular supply of street musicians, who make 
their country tours in the summer like other gentle- 
men. In London it is no exaggeration to say that 
every strect, which is not a very public thoroughfare, 
has, during fine weather, a succession of musicians 
from morning till night. And in this system there 
must be considerable or ganization, (we meal no pun,) 
for we have observed that there is seldom more than 
one at a time, and that the performers seem to have 
their reeular days for frequenting each street. For six 
months together, on one particular day of the week,—at 


183-4.] 


one particular hour of the day,—the same organ or 
Pan’s pipe will station itself if oné particular street, to 
play the véry saine airs, with the very saine flourishes, 
and the very saine faults of time and tune. That the 
ifistraments which we have persenified must find their 
iccount in such a proceeding is obvious; for who will 
imagine that a fiddle or a flute would of its “* own 
inere motioii,” as the king says in a charter; take such 
pains to miake itself sure that A~—= Street, or B— 
Lane, should become well acquainted with ‘ Di tanti 
Palpiti’ or ‘ Blue Bonhets over the Border’? 

In the various parts of the metropolis we observe 
ereat differences of quality in the tone and execution 
of the instruments aforesaid, which would sufficiently 
prove, if we did not know the fact before, that street 
musicians, like all-other traders, find themselves obliged 
to suit the taste of their customers. In-the west end of 
the town; we have the higher class of performance 
(comparatively speaking): the harp, violoncello, and 
voice, are very often well managed, generally by 
foreieners. Btut as we approach the sun-rise, we find 
all gradations of badness, down to the organ—of which 
the only alleviation is that it has lost several of its 
pipes—and the miserable hurdy-gurdy, of which the 
use is (and everything has its use) to show that there 
may be something worse than the bag-pipes. As we 
are not writing to reform street abuses; we shall say no 
more on this subject, but proceed to point out some 
circumstances which corroborate the opinions expressed 
in the last paper. : 

No person with a cultivated ear will hesitate one 
moment to grant the assertion, that the greater part 
of our street music is out of tune. Ifthe people, who 
pay for them, had any feeling of music, the hearing of 
such performances would be a state of pain, not of 
‘pleasure. We do not deny that they are pleased ; it is 
that very fact which enables us to make out the truth of 
our opinion. Nor are we inclined to place the evil high 
among those of our social condition ; there are certainly 
many worse things than a barrel-organ out of tune: all 
we say is this,—let music be of great or of little im- 
portance, still, in whatsoever deerce it is desirable that 








a correct musical taste should be a part of our national | 
character, and in whatsoever degree the contrary is a |. 
proof of want of refinement, in that same degree is it | 


necessary to amend our musical habits; for in that 
saine degree does the noise in our streets prove that 
We are not a refined nation in stich matters. 

But it may be said, the national ear is dull, and that 
is the end of it ;—how can we expect a people wh) 
have no ear for music to give themselves that which 
nature has refused them? We deny that any people is 
musical by nature, in the sense above implied, that is, 
we deny that we have experience of any uncultivated 
people who have, while in their uncivilized state, con- 
structed any of those airs which they have retained with 
pleasure during their progress towards refinement. 
Let us take the instance of the Scotch and Irish, whose 
national airs are full of the highest pathos. With 
regard to the former we have no proof that their airs 
Were composed while they were in a rude state. It is 
well known that in Ireland the national condition, 
previous to the Conquest, was one of considerable 
civilization ;—even their instrument, the harp, never 
was found in the hands of savages. Certainly, a 
stretched string has been employed to make a note in 
many countries, but we rarely read of airs being played 
upon a harp, guitar, or such an instrument, in any 
country which had not made some progress in the arts 
of hfe. It is said that the Goths had a harp, but we 
do not know whether it deserved the name. The Greeks 
paid much attention to the lyre without any: lasting 
results. With regard to the Scotch music, we avail our- 
selves of a note to Walter Scott’s ‘ Lord of the Isles,’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





171 


who, having given pipes and bugles to the army of 


Robert Bruce in verse, seems to doubt in prose whether 
there was at that time any martial music. He quotes 
Ritson, who ‘ quotes Froissart’s account of each 
soldier in the host bearing a little horn, on which, at the 
onset; they wonld make such a horrible noise as if all 
the devils of hell had been amongst them. He observes 
that these horns are the only music mentioned by 
Barbour ; and concludes, that it must remain a mooted 
point, whether Bruce’s army were cheered by the sound 
even of a solitary bag-pipe.” We need hardly observe, 
that no air could be played upon a Jitéle horn unless it 
had keys. But though instruments were not invented, 
might not the voice have preceded them? And has it 
not been asserted that all instruments are formed upon 
the voice as a model? It has been so maintained; but 
it has also been replied, on the other hand, that the 
voice has followed the instruments, and has never made 
any step in advance of them. It is said to be verified 
by experience, that no savage nation attempts to sing 
more than their drums or flutes teach them,—that in 
Owhyhee and Nootka Sound, their nasal flute has bu¢ 
three semitones, which are all that they use in their 
vocal scale. It is known that even a cultivated ear 
learns habits from instruments. Let any man take to 
an imperfect. flute or oboe, and he will find, after a 
time, that his ear relishes the faults which it has been 
taught, and that the usual intervals appear erroneous, 
We have even heard an instance in which a performer 
of great skill imagined (probably from some peculiar 
habit in fingering) that the intervals in one key dif: 
fered in magnitude from those in another. 

But there is a ground on which we feel inclined to 
suspect that music is the native growth of very few 
countries indeed, perhaps only of one; and that, like 
arithmetic and geometry, it is not a necessary con- 
sequence of human association. There is a musical 
scale which prevails extensively, and in different parts 
of the world. Its peculiarity is the absence of the 
fourth and seventh of the diatonic scale, giving, in the 
key of c, only the following notes :— 


CDE GA C. 


The black keys of a piano furnish such a scale in the 
key of c sharp. It is the almost entire absence of these 
fourth and seventh notes which gives the peculiar 
character of Scotch music; and which has caused it to 
be said that a cat running over the black keys of the 
piano, would play a Scotch tune. Hence it is that so 
many travellers have found music which bore a strong 
resemblance to the Scotch. ‘This scale has been found 
in China, India, Java and the islands, Morocco, Kur- 
distan, Italy, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and Cornwall. 
There may then be this alternative—if the defective 
scale be natural, our countrymen cannot be incapable 
of musical cultivation, for they have acquired the arti- 
ficial fourth and seventh. If this scale be not natural, 
then we have a right to suspect that many nations have 
nothing in music but what they have borrowed, and 
that we ourselves may surely follow a process similar to 
that which has succeeded with others. 

We do not think we have said enough to establisn 
any thing, but only to throw upon those who say we 
are not musical by nature the necessity of showing by 
fair presumption that there is any such thing as a 
nation which ts so. See 

To return to street music.—There is an unfortunate 
instrument, the playing upon which comes by nature. 
Of course we mean the barrel-organ. This yields per- 
haps not less than two-fifths of the music which -is 
actually heard by the majerity of our countrymen in 
towns and cities, Let such an estimation surprise no 


Ane 


172 


one. Say that one-seventh of the whole is heard at 
ehurch or meeting, which is a very fair proportion. 
There remains then six-sevenths to be accounted for. 
Now take in all the orchestras, concerts, private pianos 


and harps, &c., and consider how small a part of the | 


whole mass has any thing to do with these. Remem- 
ber, also, that whatever instrumental music exists 
among the lower orders is formed upon no better 
model than the street music, and may fairly be reckoned 
with it. Say then, that so much as two-sevenths of the 
whole is to be allowed for orchestras, &c., as above- 
mentioned: there remains four-sevenths for street music, 
&c.,—by much the major part of which is ground from 
barrels, so that our estimate of two-fifths for mere 
barrels is probably near the mark. 

In this national instrument, as we must begin to call 
it (for its use’is comparatively rare on the Continent), 
there are two very great defects, which are of themselves 
enough to produce a pernicious effect, musically speak- 
ing, on those who hear it often. In the first place 
there is no expression whatsoever. Our unmusical 
readers will not know what this word means, but we 
can only tell them that it answers to feeling of the 
subject in reading or speaking. What is it that 
makes the difference between the muttering of an 
indictment in the mouth of the clerk of the court, 
and the emphatic charge of the judge, which keeps 
all eyes upon him, or turns them in a moment upon 
the jury or upon the prisoner, just as he pleases? 
It is just that difference which in music 1s called 
expression, It is what all men can feel when they 
hear it, but none can describe. It always succeeds: 
we have seen a street blocked up by the crowd 
which assembled,—in perfect silence,—round nothing 
more than a harp accompanied by a Pan’s_ pipe, 
both instruments admitting of expression; and which, 
added to perfect tune, produced the unusual phenome- 
non just mentioned. But the barrel-organ, and all 
organs whatsoever, are deficient in this primary at- 
tribute of good music. So long as it shall form as 
large a part as it now does of what is commonly heard, 
there can be little hope of realizing any real feeling of 
the beautiful airs which are spoiled upon it. 

The mechanical part of the Apollonicon is a perfect or- 
ehestra, except only in expression. The second defect of 
the organ consists in this, that owing, we suppose, to 
the nature of the instrument, and in a manner depend- 
ing upon the size of the barrel and the limited number of 
pipes, many airs must be altered before they can be set. 
Thus chromatic music must be avoided, or adapted by 
the taste of some inferior head before it can parade the 
streets. And what is even worse, the barrel is some- 
thing like the bed of Procrustes, to the length of which 
the unfortunate traveller was cut short or lengthened 
out, according to his stature. The air must end in 
time to begin again, so that we frequently hear a ca- 
dence dictated, not by the composer, or even by the 
spirit of the composition, but by the number of inches, 
be they more or less, which must be filled up. Until 
the great masters can be brought to write by the foot, 
this cannot be avoided—at least in charity to the organ 
makers, we so presume. We know but little of the 
comparative anatomy of the noxious animal which so 
often makes us quicken our pace as we walk the street, 
but if our explanation be not correct, we leave upon 
the manufacturers the task of proving that they are not 
the most insensible of all the followers of the muses. 

We hold it perfectly hopeless to attempt any ame- 
lioration of this street system at’ present. So long as 
people can be found to be pleased with it and pay for 
it, it will last. But if by any means whatsoever the 
art could be so far encouraged among our labourers 
and mechanics, that only one-tenth of them should 
arrive at singing a common air from written music, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 3, 


we should not despair of any result, however dis- 
tant a state it might indicate from that which at pre- 
sent exists. We make no apology for insisting upon 
the matter as having some degree of importance. We 
address ourselves to those who like music enough to 
think that a fine opera is as pleasant a thing to the ear 
as a fine painting to the eye, and will not laugh at its 
being supposed that if a national taste for design be 
desirable, a national taste for music is also worth some 
cultivation. We do not know whether the cultivation 
of the fine arts is the cause or the effect of civilization : 
if the first, no more need be said in its favour ; if the 
second, it is worth ascertaining whether we cannot en- 
deavour to show the rest of Europe that we are as re- 
fined as our neighbours. 


Youth is the time in which modesty and enterprise ought 
chiefly to be found; modesty suits well with inexperience, 
and enterprise with health and vigour and an extensive 
prospect of life.-—Johnson. 

This is well to be weighed: that boldness is ever blind, 
for it seeth not dangers and inconveniences; therefore it is 
ill in counsel, ‘but good in execution; for in counsel it is 
good to see dangers, and in execution not to see them, except 
they be very great. 

Some in their discourse desire rather commendation of 
wit, in being able to hold all arguments, than of judgment 
in discerning what is right; as if it were a praise to know 
what must be said, and not what should be thought. 

It is a strange thing to behold what gross errors and 
extreme absurdities men do commit for want of a friend to 
tell them of them. The help of good counsel is that which 
setteth business straight.—Bacon. 


Chinese Barbers.—The barbers, in the towns of China, 
go about ringing bells to get customers. They carry with 
them a stool, a basin, a towel, and a pot containing fire. 
When any person calls them, they run to him ; and, planting 
their stool in a convenient place in the street, shave the 
head, clean the ears, dress the eyebrows, and brush the 
shoulders ;—all for the value of little more than a halfpenny. 
They then ring the bell again, and start in pursuit of another 
customer. 


Manner of printing Cloth in the South Sea Islands.— 
At one place, in the house of a chief where we were hospi- 
tably entertained, we had an opportunity of witnessing the 
method of printing flowers and other ornamental figures on 
the native cloth. The design is neatly engraved upon the 
sides of thin pieces of bamboo, into the lines of which the 
colour is introduced by dipping them into cocoa-nut shells 
which contain the dye in a liquid state, and the superfluous 
matter is thrown off by smartly striking the bamboo upon 
the edges of these vessels. The pattern is then carefully 
transferred to the cloth by pressure of the hand ; after which, 
with the fibre of the cocoa-nut dipped in the colouring 
matter, any imperfections are supplied, and the whole deli- 
cately finished off. Four women were employed in this 
work.—Bennet and Tyerman's Voyages. 


Amiable trait in the Negro character.—A correspondent, 
in mentioning the birds of the Island of Grenada, remarks : 
—In the character of the Negro there is one trait that 
ought to make us blush,—the particular disgust which he 
entertains towards those who disturb or rob the birds while 
breeding. They are consequently never pursued with that 
wanton cruelty and unnatural pleasure which prompts the 
English boy to rob the mother bird of her eggs or her young; 
and it would be deemed a crime of some magnitude to 
plunder their nests and string the eggs to ornament cham- 
bers. This amiable trait reminds us of the lines of Shen- 
stone :—— 

“ For he ne’er would be true, she averr’d, 
Who could rob a poor bird of its young; 
And I loved her the more when I heard 
Such tenderness fall from her tongue.” 


In return for this exemption from molestation, the birds 
exhibit so much confidence in man, that they often build 
their nests in the houses and rooms of the Negroes. 





THE peculiar customs and modes of thought of various 
nations are in no respect more strikingly exhibited than 
in their different methods of disposing of the bodies of 
All nations do something towards their 
The mode of effecting 


the dead. 


speedy destruction or removal, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 
CEMETERIES. 








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BIACRSON 


[Cemetery at Grand Cuiro. ] 


In some parts the dead are 
thrown over precipices, or abandoned in the deserts, 
woods, or ditches, to the hunger of wild beasts and vul- 
tures; and, in others, they are consigned to the rivers 


or the seas, and become the prey of fishes. In the 


this is varied by the peculiar manners or prejudices of East Indies they are dried by fire, and then enveloped 


owe 


° =o 7 ' 
_ om ity “rer a ar ~-4. 


174 


in cloths and deposited in the earth. In other parts of 
the sdme country, the fire is suffered to consume the 
corpse altogether. ‘The Parsees have two cémeéteries, 
one white and thé other black .in the one they bury 
those who have lived in the constant practice of virtue, 
and consign to the othe# those whose life has not been 
without reproach. | 

The various practices of the natives of America 
would alone form a very ifiteresting ehtimeration. We 
can only mention tlie following. The Arraques, who 
inhabit the south of the Orinoco, stispend the corpse in 
its cabin until time has cofisumed the flesh; they then 
reduce the bones to a powder, which they miiigle with 
their drink; or they burn the body, atid iriake tlie 
same use of the aslies. ‘The Abipones of Sotith Ame- 
rica generally inter the dead iinder the shade of a ti'ée 5 
and when a chief or warrior digs; they kill his horsés ou 
the grave. After a time the remains aré exliimed, aiid 
conveyed to a place more sécret and distant than the 
first. Some tribes make skeletons of all the dead, atid 
place them, in a sitting posture, ¢lothed witli robes and 
feathers, in the cemetery, which is opetied every year, 
and the skeletons cleansed aiid clothed anew. Most of the 
tribes of the American continent strongly manifest the 
desire that their own bones; and those of their fatliers, 
should rest in-the land of their nativity. When the 
nomade tribes of South America wander many hundred 
miles from their proper buundaries; and one of their 
number happens to die, they reduce the body to a ske- 
leton, which they place on the favourite horse of the 
deceased, and carry it with them till they arrive at the 
place of his family; however distant.- It séems, indeed, 
that ithe different tribes are attached to partictilar dis- 
tricts, chiefly by the circumstance that the bores of 
heir fathers are buried there. We remember to have 
been much struck by reading that a North American 
chief indicated his aversion to a proposal for a cession 
of territory to the white man, by asking, “‘ Shall we 
say unto,the bones of our fathers; Arise, and go into 
another land?” In many tribes, when the eticroachi- 
ments of the white men drive them from their ancient 
domains, they exhume and take with them the bones 
of their ancestors and friends. 

In early times the Assyrians and Babylonians covered 
the dead with wax previotis to intetfment. The Egyp- 
tians held the consoling doctrine of the immortality of 
the soul,—or rather connected its existence with the 
duration of the body; which they therefore embalmed, 
and preserved with great care in the houses, or in the 
catacombs devoted to this purpose. 

Yn all these different modes of expressing respect for 
the depatted, the principle appears to be the same, and 
may be traced in the most ancient institutions. In 
periods the most remote, cemeteries are found to have 
been set apart by the laws, and sanctioned by religion. 
‘Lhe Jews had their funeral-fields. Their first care on 
arriving in a new country, was to select a spot for their 
sepulchres. Each city had its public cemetery without 
the walls. 'That of Jerusalem was in the valley of 
Cedron; and, not far from that of the Pharisees, was a 
distinct one for strangers. ‘The Greeks, before they 
adopted the Phrygian custom of burning the dead, 
interred them in the fields, and afterwards continued to 
inuke use of cemeteries, where they deposited the urns 
which enclosed the ashes of the dead. We may remark 
that the wholesome custom of depositing the dead at 
some distance from the abodes of the living prevails 
among all people except those of Christendom. They 
only, the most enlightened, have been unable, until of 
late, to perceive the evils of the opposite practice. This 
is a subject of serious importance and of much inte- 
rest, to which we shall return in a future Number. In 
the meantime we shall proceed to describe the ceme- 
teries of the Turks, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 8, 


Our wood-cut represents a very fine specimen of the 
superior class of Turkish cemeteries, and is one of 
several appropriated at Cairo, in Egypt, to the inter- 
ment of opulent families. They are most of them, like 
this, remarkable for their magnificence, if not for their 
taste, of which the engraving will better enable the 
reader to judge than any written description. It 
may suffice to state, that the profuse display of sculp- 
tured marble, gilding, and brilliant colours, combine to 
strike very forcibly a stranger when he first enters the 
gates. The pillars are usually charged with Arabic 
inscriptious; and the interior of the cupolas are 
orhainented with sculptures in relief. The graves 
aré in all cases constructed and ornamented on much 
the saitie principle, independently of the enriched su- 
perstriicture which appears in tlie sepulchres of the 
sanctified and the opulent. We may therefore describe 
them here, while we reserve for a future Number some 
account of the more public burial-grounds in which 
tliey alsv appear: The grave is usually covered with 
large, rounded stones, so that it is not unlike a 
coffin with a convex lidj but, in some parts, this is 
composed of three or four receding stages, having on 
the top a space corresponding with the dimensions of 
the body deposited below. At both ends, tall stones are 
placed peérpeiidicularly. These usually taper towards 
the ground, and that at the head is surmounted by a 
sculptured turban, such as the deceased usually wore, 
and by which the situation in life which he occupied 
inay be easily distinguished even by those who are 
unable to read, since in that country almost every pro- 
fession and employment has its distinctive head-dress. 
The inner surfaces of the stones, which are always flat, 
are covered with inseriptions in high relief, the letters 
of which are well executed, and frequently painted over 
ot gilded. For Seyds, and other persons of reputed 
sanctity, the letters are commonly painted black ona 
green ground, green being the holy colour of Ma- 
homed; and on the grave-stones of those who died in 
early youth, their innocence is supposed to be in- 
dicated by the letters beihg gilt on a white ground. 
The burdens of the inscribed surface, the edges of the 
stones, and their outer surface, are generally painted 
with very vivid colours, and resplendent with gilding, 
It is curious that the sculptured parts of these stones 
are much superior to the painted. ‘The painting 
usually represents flowers, pine-apples, clusters of 
grapes, or the principal implements of the particular 
business which the deceased followed. Among the 
Turks, the honourable circumstance of decapitation by 
the sultan’s order is commemorated by an attempt to 
represent the deceased, in painting or low relief, with 
his head under his right arm. Christians, in indicating 
the same fact, are obliged to place the head between 
the legs. 'The Moslems carefully keep up, even after 
death, the paltry external distinctions between them- 
selves and others which they so carefully assert during 
life. None but Turks are allowed to have the cypress 
in their cemeteries. Christians may plant any other 
trees; but the Jews are allowed none. Again, Chris- 
tians are not allowed to have perpendicular ¢rave- 
stones, but they may and do raise decent oblong masses 
of masonry to support the imscribed horizontal slab, 
which the Jews are obliged to lay on the ground, i 


+ 
t 
| 
i} 


THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE. 


WE are enabled, through the kindness of a correspon- 
dent, to present our readers with an extremely curious 
and interesting paper,—a Narrative of the Loss of the 
Royal George, by Mr. James Ingram, who was on 
board her at the time of this fearful calamity, Our 
correspondent says, “ Mr, Ingram is a very respectable 
and intelligent man, who lives and has lived for many 


1834,] 


years at Woodford, a village exactly midway between 
Gloucester and Bristol. This statement is given exactly 
in his own words, except that I occasionally asked a 
question where explanation appeared to be necessary.” 

The Royal George was a ship of one hundred guns. 
Originally her guns had been all brass, but when she 
was docked at Plymouth, either in the spring of 1782 
oY the year before, the brass forty-two pounders on her 
lower gun-deck were taken out of her as being too 
heavy, and iron thirty-two pounders put there in their 
stead: so that after that she carried brass twenty-four 
pounders on her main-deck, quarter-deck, and poop, 
brass thirty-two pounders on her middle-deck, and iron 
thirty-two pounders on her lower-deck. She did not 
carry any carronades. She measured sixty-six feet 
from the kelson to the taffrail; and, being a flag-ship, 
her lanterns were so big, that the men used to go into 
them to clean them. 

In August, 1782, the Royal George had come to Spit- 
head. She was in a very complete state, with hardly 
any leakage, so that there was no occasion for the 
pumps to be touched oftener than once in every three 
or four days. By the 19th of August she had got six 
months’ provision on board, and also many tons of 
shot. The ship had her gallants up, the blue flag 
of Admiral Kempenfelt was flying at the mizen, and 
the ensign was hoisted on the ensign-staff,—and she 
was in about two days to have sailed to join the grand 
fleet in the Mediterranean. It was ascertained that the 
water-cock must be taken out and a new one put in. 
The water-cock is something like the tap of a barrel,— 
it is in the hold of the ship on the starboard side, and 
at that part of the ship called the well. By turning a 
thing which is inside the ship, the sea-water is let into 
a cistern in the hold, and it is from that pumped up to 
wash the decks. In some ships the water is drawn up 
the side in buckets, and there is no water-cock. To 
get out the old water-cock it was necessary to make the 
ship heel so much on her larboard side as to raise the 
outside of this water-cock above water. This was done 
at about 8 o’clock on the morning of the 19th of August. 
To do it the whole of the guns on the larboard side 
were run out as far as they would go, quite to the 
breasts of the guns, and the starboard euns drawn in a 
midship and secured by tackles, two to every gun, oue 
on each side the gun. This brought the water nearly 
on a level with the port-holes of the larboard side of 
the lower gun-deck. The men were working at this 
water-cock on the outside of the ship for near an hour, 
the ship remaining all on one side as I have stated. 

At about 9 o’clock a.m., or rather before, we had 
just finished our breakfast, and the last he@hter, with 
rum on board, had come alongside; this vessel was a 
sloop of about fifty tons, and belonged to three brothers, 
who used her to carry things on board the men-of-war. 
She was lashed to the larboard side of the Royal George, 
and we were piped to clear the lighter and get the rum 
out of her, and stow it in the hold of the Royal George. 
I was in the waist of our ship, on the larboard side, 
bearing the rum-casks over, as some men of the Royal 
George were aboard the sloop to sling them. 

At first no danger was apprehended from the ship 
being on one side, although the water kept dashing in 
at the port-holes at every wave; and there being mice 
in the lower part of the ship, which were disturbed by 
the water which dashed in, they were hunted in the 
water by the men, and there had been a rare came 
gouig on. However, by about 9 o’clock the additional 
quantity of ram on board the ship, and also the quantity 
of sea-water which had dashed in through the port- 
holes, brought the larboard port-holes of the Jower gun- 
deck nearly level with the sea. 

As soon as that was the case, the carpenter went or 
the quarter-deck to the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


179 


him to give orders to right ship, as the ship could not 
bear it. However, the lieutenant made him a very 
short answer, and the carpenter then went below. The 
captain’s name was Waghorn. He was on board, but 
where he was I do not know ;—however, captains, if 
anything is to be done when the ship is in harbour, 
seldom interfere, but leave it all to the officer of the 
watch. The lieutenant was, if I remember right, the 
third heutenant; he had not joined us long; his name 
I do not recollect ; he was a good-sized man, between | 
thirty and forty years of age. The men called ‘him 
** Jib-and-Foresail Jack,” for, if he had the watch in 
the night, he would be always bothering the men to. 
alter the sails, and it was “ up jib” and “ down jib,” 
and ‘* up foresail ” and ‘* down foresail,” every minute, 
However, the men considered him more of a trouble- 
some officer than a good one; and, from a-habit he 
had of moving his fingers about when walking the 
quurter-deck, the men said he was an organ-player 
from Loudon, but I have no reason to know that that 
was the case. The admiral was either in his cabin or in 
his steerage, Ido not know which; and the barber, who 
had been to shave him, had just left. The admiral 
was a man upwards of seventy years of awe; he wag 
a thin tall man, who stooped a good deal. 

As I have already stated, the carpenter left the 
quarter-deck and went below. In a very short time he 
came up again, and asked the lieutenant of the watch 
to right ship, and said again that the ship could not 
bear it; but the lieutenant replied, ‘* D—e, sir, if you 
can manage the ship better than I can, you had better 
take the command.” Myself and a good many more 
were at the waist of the ship and at the gangways, and 
heard what passed, as we knew the danger, and began 
to feel aggrieved, for there were some capital seamen 
aboard, who knew what they were about quite as well 
or better than the officers. 

In a very short time, in a minute or two I should 
think, the lieutenant ordered the drummer to be called 
to beat to right ship. The drummer was called in a 
moment, and the ship was then just beginning to sink. 
I jumped off the gangway as soon as the drummer was 
called. 'There was no time for him to beat his drum, 
and I don’t know that he even had time to get it. Iran 
down to my station, and, by the time I had got there, 
the men were tumbling down the hatchways one over 
another to get to their stations as quick as possible to 
right ship. My station was at the third gun from the 
head of the ship on the starboard side of the lower eun- 
deck, close by where the cable passes, indeed it was 
just abaft the bight of the cable. I said to the heu- 
tenant of our gun, whose name was Carrell, for every 
gin has a captain and lieutenant (though they are only 
sailors), ** Let us try to bouse our gun ont without 
waiting for the drum, as it will help to right ship.” We 
pushed the eun, but it ran back upon us, and we could 
not start him. The water then rushed in at nearly all ° 
the port-holes of the larboard side of the lower gun- 
deck, and I directly said to Carrell, ‘* Ned, lay hold of 
the ring-bolt and jump out at the port-hole; the ship 
is sinking, and we shall be all drowned.” He laid hold 
of the ring-bolt, and jumped out at the port-hole into 
the sea: I believe he was drowned, for I never saw 
him afterwards. I immediately got out at the same 
port-hole, which was the third from the head of the 
ship on the starboard side of the lower gun-deck, and 
when I had done so, I saw the port-hole as full of 
heads as it could cram, all trying to get out. If caught 
hold of the best bower-anchor, which was just above me, 
to prevent falling back again into the port-hole, and 
seized hold of a woman who was trying to get out at 
that same port-hole,—I dragged her out. ‘The ship 


was full of Jews, women, and people selling all sorts ef 
| : . > : - = 
lieutenant of the watch, to ask ' things, I threw the woman from me,—and saw ail the 


76 


heads drop back again in at the port-hole, for the ship 
had got so much on her larbeard side, that the star- 
board port-holes were as upright as if the men had 
tried to get out of the top of a chimney with nothing 
for their legs and feet to act upon. I threw the woman 
from me, and just after that moment the air that was 
between decks drafted out at the port-holes very swiftly. 
It was quite a huff of wind, and it blew my hat off, 
for I had all my clothes on, including my hat. The 
ship then sunk ina moment. I tried to swim, but J 
could not swim a morsel, although I plunged as hard 
as [ could both hands and. feet. The sinking of the 
ship drew me down so,—indeed I think I must have 
gone down within a yard as low as the ship did. When 
the ship touched the bottom, the water boiled up a great 
deal, and then I felt that I could swim, and began to rise. 

When I was abont half way up to the top of the 
water, I put my right hand on the head of a man that 
was nearly exhausted. He. wore lung hair, as many of 
the men at that time did; he tried to grapple me, and he 
put his four fingers into my right shoe alongside the 
outer edge of my foot. I succeeded in kicking my shoe 
off, and, putting my nand on his shoulder, I shoved 
him away,—I then rose to the surface of the water. 

At the time the ship was sinking, there was a barrel 
of tar on the starboard side of her deck, and that had 
rolled to the larboard and staved as.the ship went down, 
and when I rose to the top of the water the tar was 
floating like fat on the top of a boiler. I got the tar 
about my hair and face, but I struck it away as well as 
I could, and when my head came above water I heard 
the cannon ashore firing for distress. I looked about 
me, and at the distance of eight or ten yards from me 
I saw the main topsail halyard block above water ;— 
the water was about thirteen fathoms deep, and at that 
time.the tide was coming in. I swam to the main top- 
sail halyard block, got on it, aud sat upon it, and there 
J rode. The fore, main, and mizen tops were all above 
water, as were a part of the bowsprit and part of the 
ensign-staff, with the ensien upon it. . 

In going down, the main yard of the Royal George 
caught the boom of. the rum-lighter and sunk her, and 
there is.no.doubt that this made the Royal George 
more upright in the water when sunk than she other- 
wise would have been, as she did not lie much more 
on her beam ends than small vessels often do when 
left dry on a bank of mud. 

When I got on the main topsail halyard block I saw 
the admiral’s baker in the shrouds of the mizen-top- 
mast, and directly after that the woman whom I had 
pulled out of the port-hole came rolling by: I said to 
the baker, who was an Irishman named Robert Cleary, 
** Bob, reach out your hand and catch hold of that 
woman ;—that is a woman I pulled out at the port- 
hole. I dare say she is not dead.” He said “ I dare 
say she is dead enough; it is of no use to catch hold of 
her.” I replied, ‘“‘I dare say she is not dead.” He caught 
hold of the woman and hung her head over one of the 
ratlins of the mizen shrouds, and there she hung by her 
chin, which was hitched over the ratlin, but a surf 
came and knocked her backwards, and away she went 
rolling over and over. A captain of a frigate which 
was lying at Spithead came up in a boat as fast as he 
could. I dashed out my left hand in a direction 
towards the woman as a sien to him. He saw it, and 
saw the woman. His men left off rowing, and they 
pulled the woman aboard their boat and laid her on one 
of the thwarts. The captain of the frigate called out 
to me, “© My man, I must take care of those that are 
in more danger than you.’ I said “I am safely 
moored now, Sir.” ‘There was a seaman named Hibbs 

hanging by his two hands fron the main-stay ; his 
name was Abel Hibbs, but he was called Monny, and 
as he hung from the main-stay the sea washed over him 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 3, 1834; 


every now and then as much as a yard deep over his 
head, and when he saw it coming he roared out: how- 
ever, he was but a fool for that, for if he had kept himn- 
self quiet he would not have wasted his streneth, and 
would have been able to take the chance of holding on 
so much the longer. The captain of the frigate had 
his boat rowed to the main-stay, but they got the stay 
over part of the head of the boat and were in great 
danger before they got Hibbs on board. The captain 
of the frigate then got all the men that were in the dif- 
ferent parts of the rigging, including myself and the 
baker, into his boat and took us on board the Victory, 
where the doctors recovered the woman, but she was 
very ill for three or four days. On board the Victory 
I saw the body of the carpenter, lying on the- hearth 
betore the galley fire; some women were trying to 
recover him, but he was quite dead. 

The captain of the Royal George, who could not 
swim, was picked up and saved by one of our seamen. 
The lieutenant of the watch, I believe, was drowned. 
The number of persons who lost their lives I cannot 
state with any degree of accuracy, because of there 
being so many Jews, women, and other persons on 
board who did not belong to the ship. The comple- 
ment of the ship was nominally 1000 men, but it was 
not full. Some were ashore, and sixty marines had. 
gone ashore that morning. 

The government allowed 5], each to the seamen who 
were on board, and not drowned, for the loss of the'r 
things. I saw the list, and there were only seventy-five. 
A vast number of the best of the men were in the hold 
stowing away the rum-casks: they must all have 
perished, and so must many of the men who were 
slinging the casks in the sloop. ‘Two of the three 
brothers belonging to the sloop perished, and the other 
was saved. - I have no doubt that the men caught hold 
of each other, forty or fifty together, and drowned one 
another-—those who could not swim catching hold of 
those who could; and there is also little doubt that as 
many got into the launch as could cram into her, hoping 
to save themselves in that way, and went down in her 
all together. - 

In a few days after the Royal George sunk, bodies 
would come up, thirty or forty nearly at a time. A 
body would rise, and come up so suddenly as to frighten 
any one. The watermen, there is no doubt, made a 
good thing of it: they took from the bodies of the men 
their buckles, money, and watches, and then made fast 
a rope to their heels and towed them to land. 

The water-cock ought to have been put to rights 
before the immense quantity of shot was put on board; 
but if the leutenant of the watch had given the order 
to right ship a couple of minutes earlier, when the 
carperiter first spoke to him, nothing amiss would have 
happeried ; as three or four men at each tackle of the 
starboard guns would very soon have boused the euns 
all out, and have righted the ship. At the time this 
happened, the Royal George was anchored by two 
anchors from the head. The wind was rather from the 
north-west,—not much of it,—only a bit of a breeze; 
and there was no sudden gust or puff of wind which 
made her heel just before she sunk ; it was the weight 
of metal and the water which had dashed in through 
the port-holes which sunk her, and not the effect of the 
wind upon her. Indeed I do not recollect that she had 
even what is called a stitch of canvass, to keep her head 
steady as she lay at anchor. 

I am now seventy-five years of age, and was about 
twenty-four when this happened. | 





I 


*." The Ofhce of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 


oT Seo So oe ey 


Printed by Wiitiam Crowns, Duke ntreet, Lambeth. 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledze. 


Smee) 


135.1 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY... [May 10, 1834. 


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{ Minster of Freiburg.] 


178 


Freizura is a town which was formerly the capital of 
the mountainous and woody district of Brisgau, and 
now the chief place of the circle of Treisam im the 
erand-duchy of Baden. It is situated on the -right 
bank of the river ‘Treisam, at the foot of a mountain, at 
the entrance of the Black Forest by the great road 
leading from the Rhine. The town is not of high 
antiquity. It was originally a village occupied by the 
workmen in the neighbouring mines, the produce 
of which furnished the means for the foundation of the 
city and the erection of the churches and monasteries 
by which itis still adorned. As a city, it was founded 
in the year 1120, by Berchtold I1., Duke of Zaringen, 
from whose descendants it passed to the counts of Fur- 
stenberg, with whom it had many disputes on account 
of its privileges. Much bad feeling was in consequence 
engendered between the parties, and blood was shed in 
the quarrel; but, at last, Count Egon was induced (in 
the year 1386) to come to an arrangement, by which, for 
the consideration of 20,000 marks of silver, he conceded 
to the town the freedom it desired, and transferred his 
reserved rights, as we understand this rather comph- 
cated transaction, to his cousin the Prince of Austria, 
by whom the above sum. was advanced. The town 
was thenceforth called Freiburg or Free-town. In 
the course of its history, we learn that it was strongly 
fortified, and stood repeated sieges before 1744, when 
it was taken and dismantled by the French. It was 
again taken by them in 1796 ; and was ultimately, with 
the district of Brisgau, ceded to Baden by Austria, at 
the peace of Presburg in 1805. 

Freiburg ts described as a very lively and open city. 
The streets are wide, well paved, and traversed by 
streams of clear water; the houses are good; and the 
town is well turnished with fountains, hotels, and public 
buildings. 'The population is at present about 10,000. 
The principal objects of industry are the manufacture 
of cloths, tobacco, coffee, paper, sealing-wax, red mo- 
rocco leather, and watches; there are also some foun- 
deries of bells. The commerce of the place is very 
inconsiderable. Freiburg contains two public places, 
or markets; two Catholic and two Protestant churches ; 
three convents; two hospitals, civil and military, be- 
sides a foundling hospital; a public office for the loan 
of money on goods; one prison; and a house of correc- 
tion. From 1456 this town has possessed a university 
of much celebrity, with which is connected a fine 
library, a colleeaon of philosophical and mathematical 
instruments, a butanic garden, a theatre of anatomy, 
where the means of clinical instruction in mediciné 
and surgery are afforded. This university boasts 
some eminent inen among its professors, and, not- 
withstanding the disadvantage of being near Tu- 
hingen, it had 600 students in 1829, and this number 
has since been much increased. Such an establishment 
is highly creditable to so small a country as: Baden, 
which also contains the university of Heidelberg. 
Freibure has likewise a gymnasium, a normal school, 
and a museum; anda society has lately been formed, 
the object of which is to promote the study of statistics 
and of antiquities, and to preserve the monuments and 
objects of art which the country contains. ; Upon a 
mountain, called Schénberg, in the neighbourhood of 
the town, has been discovered a large number of tombs 
- containing arms and trinkets, which have the appear- 
ance of being of very remote antiquity. 

The Minster of Freiburg, which is represented in 
our wood-cut, is a very magnificent structure. The 
tower is much admired as one of the finest and most 
complete Gothic steeples extant. It is no less remark- 
able for its height than for its beautiful figure and 
fine workmanship,—the structure being from the foun- 
dation to the summit composed of ornamented and 
sculptured stones. Its elevation is variously stated, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 10, 


some accounts representing it to be 513 feet, —which is 
19 feet higher than that of Strasburg. We have not 
been able to jlearn the precise-date of its erection. 


GLASS. 


Tue period of the invention of glass.is quite unknown. 
The usual story of its origin is taken from Pliny, who 
relates that some merchants, who were driven by a 
storm to the coast of Pheenicia, near the river Belus, 
made a large fire on the sand to dress their food, 
using as fuel some plants that grew near: when an 
imperfect glass was formed by the melting together 
of the sand and ashes. ‘his production was acciden- 
tally picked up by a Tyrian merchant, who, from its 
beauty and probable utility, was ied to investigate its 
origin; and who, after many attempts, succeeded in 
its manufacture. The legend most probably origi- 
nated in the circumstance that glass was very anciently 
made at Tyre, and that the sand on the sea-shore,in 
the immediate neighbourhood of the Belus is very white 
and crystalline, and well adapted to glass-making. It 
is certainly probable that an accidental vitrification 
might give rise to the discovery; but that was much 
more likely to take place in some operation requiring a 
great fire than by dressing foed on the open sand. 

Although the most ancient manufactures of glass on 
record were at Tyre, it is certain that the art was 
known to the Egyptians. Small pieces of blue glass, 
resembling turquoise, have been recently discovered in 
ancient tombs at Thebes, which were probably used in 
glazing the earthenware beads often found adorning 
mummies, and which have been erroneously cited as 
made of glass. 

In far later times than any to which the tombs 
of Thebes can be referred, glass was made at Alex- 
andria, and was supplied frorn that city to the Romans 
at least as late as the reign of Hadrian. The ma- 
nufacture -had been introduced at Rome, where the 
olass-makers had a particular street assigned to them. 
There can be little doubt that the art made some pro- 
gress there, although we may reasonably doubt thie 
story of malleable glass, for the invention of which 
Tiberius is said to have rewarded an artist with death. 
Its principal use was at that time in the making of 
bottles and ornamental vases, in whie& the slkall of the 
workman appears to have been very great, as may be 
seen in-specimens at the British Museum, though the 
‘“‘ metal,” as the mass of glass is called by the trade, is 
usually thick and coloured. We have no testimony that 
it was used in glazing windows previous to that of 
Lactantius, in the beginning of the fourth century, who 
compared a penetrating mind to one looking through a 
glass window. 

The art is said to have been known to the ancient 
Britons before the coming of the Romans ;—the supposed 
Druidical rings occasionally picked up, and believed to 
be a source or token of good luck to the finder, have 
been often mentioned; and, if genwine, they afford a 
proof that the art must have made considerable progress 
among the ancient inhabitants of our island. ‘Lhe Ro- 
mans may have added some improvements during their 
long residence here, but the arrival of the Saxons 
destroyed this and almost every other mark of civiliza- 
tion in Britain. About two centuries after this event, 
olass was again imported as an ornament to churches 
and other religious establishments, though the manu- 
facture was not ifvtroduced until after the lapse of near 
a thousand years. The introduction among the Saxons 
is placed by Bede in the year 674, and its use was at 
first wholly confined to churches and religious edifices ; 
nor was it generally employed in windows of private 
dwellings until long after the Norman Conquest. Spe- 
cimens of Saxon glass may be seen in Westminster 





1834.) - 


Abbey, cemented into the tomb of Edward the Con- 
fessor: they are small square or diamond-shaped pieces, 
not more than an inch in length, and lined with gold 
leaf. Similar ornaments were seen in a tomb discovered 
in making reparations to the cathedral of Rochester 
some years ago, though of rather later date. 


During these early times, the manufacture appears: 


to have been confined to Italy or Germany. Venice 
became particularly celebrated for the beauty of its 
material and the skill of its workmen ;—as early as 
the thirteenth century, its manufactories supplied the 
greatest part of the glass used in Europe; and speci- 
mens of the skill of their artists are yet in existence, 
composed of various coloured glasses fused together, 
enclosed in a beautiful transparent crust. The artists 
of Bohemia were also held in considerable reputation ; 
to them is due the invention of the white spiral string 
which runs twisting down the stems of wine-elasses, so 
much admired in the last century, and of which many 
specimens remain. 

The art was first practised in England in the year 
1557, when a manufactory was erected at Crutched 
Friars in the city of London; and, shortly after, 
another at the Savoy in the Strand. These establish- 
ments chiefly confined themselves to common window- 
glass, or coarse bottles, all the finer articles being still 
imported from Venice. About a century later, the cele- 
brated Duke of Buckingham brought workmen from 
Italy, and established at Lambeth a manufactory of plate- 
glass for mirrors and coach-windows in 1673. Since 
that time the art has made constant progress in Eing- 
,and, and has now attained to such a degree of perfec- 
tion that plates of larger dimensions are made here than 
in almost any other part of the world. Mirrors are pro- 
curable in London exceeding thirteen feet by seven, while 
the largest size in the Paris list is under eleven feet by 
seven; aud in no other place is any approach made to 
those sizes, except at the Royal Manufactory of St. 
Ildefonso in Spain, where it is stated plates are cast 
measuring 13% feet by 74. 

The base of glass is silica, which forms a considerable 
portion of many stones, and may be called the sole 
ingredient in crystal, flint, and sand. The substance is 
insoluble in water, and infusible in the greatest heat 
producible in common furnaces. If it could be melted, 


we night, perhaps, procure glass at once; but, as this | 


cannot be done, it is necessary to find some substance 
that will cause crystal to melt without destroying its tran- 
sparency ; this substance is alkali, either soda or potash. 
The process of making flint-glass is as follows :—The 
finest white sand, such as most nearly resembles pounded 
crystal, is selected and washed thoroughly, so as to 
cleanse it, as far as practicable, from all impurities ; it 1s 
then mixed with soda or potash in different proportions, 
from a half to a third, according to the quality of the 
alass required: some other ingredients are also added 
in much smaller quantities, as red lead, arsenic, and 
manganese, to clear the glass, to destroy all colour, 
and to make it melt easily. The mixture is now placed 
in the furnace, and heated gradually as long as any 
vapour rises from it; when this ceases, the fire 1s 
rapidly increased to its greatest violence, and continued 
nearly five hours: during which time, the sand, alkah, 
and all the other materials, melt into a mass. The 
miass must be stirred in every direction the whole 
of the time with an iron rake or scraper, which is 


changed, as soon as it gets hot, for a cold one, of| 


which there is a supply ready, because the melted 


matter sticks to hot iron, while cold iron is free | 


from this inconvenience. When the mass appears to 
be sufficiently mixed and agglutinated, it is taken out, 
cooled, carefully picked over to separate the dirt, and 


washed ; in this state it is called frit. In preparing 


ihe frit for making green bottle-glass, the coarsest: 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


179 


materiais only are taken, such as common sea or river- 
sand, and soap-boilers’ waste. Legal enactments pro- 
hibit the use of finer materials for this purpose. ‘The 
process of preparing the frit differs but little in other 
respects. 

The frit is afterwards conveyed to the glass furnace, 
a domed building about ten feet in height by six or 
seven in diaineter, and furnished with holes all round 
to put in and take out the metal. Within this furnace 
the frit is deposited in crucibles or melting pots, in 
which it is exposed to the greatest practicable heat, 
The holes round the furnace are provided with clay 
stoppers, on the removal of which, the matter in the 
crucibles may be seen to melt slowly, and to form by 
degrees a pasty mass, at first thick and opaque, but 
gradually acquiriig transparency; then a thick scum 
rises to the surface, which is driven off in vapour by 
the application of vehement heat. When the scum is 
gone, the mass is now visibly converted into glass, but 
filled with little points like those appearing in ale 
poured into a tumbler. These points enlarge and be- 
come bubbles, in which state they rise slowly to the 
surface, burst, and disappear; the glass is then com- 
plete. ‘To judge of its state of forwardness, the work- 
inan, from time to time, takes out a lump by means of 
an iron rod, to which the glass sticks like paste; 
When he finds it quite ready, he procceds to make some 
article—a bottle, perhaps: for this purpose he takes an 
iron pipe above four feet in length, dips one end of it 
into the melted mass, draws out a lump, and rolls it 
upon a cast-iron table, until it is equally covered by the 
glass; he then carefully picks off any dirt with his 
pincers. If he has not metal enough for the article 
he wishes to make, he dips his tube again and again, 
until it has taken up a sufficiency. He then applies 


i his mouth to the other end of the pipe, and blows 


strongly through it; the soft @lass swells up like a 
bladder, and forms a globe, which he lengthens by rapid 
whirling round himself, or converts into a cylinder by 
rolling upon the table. When the process is thus far 
advanced, the workman detaches the pipe from the 
metal in the following manner :—he dips a small rod of 
iron into the melting pot, and by the help of the litile 
lump of glass adhering to it, he sticks it to the further 
end of the article he is making. ‘This little rod he 
holds in his left hand, while, with his right, he lets a 
drop of water fall on the neck of the bottle, where it 


| joins the tube; the tube immediately drops off, or is 


separated by a slight blow, and the bottle is held up 


{by the rod only. The neck is then fashioned with 


shears and other tools, and the bottle is made. It is 
then removed to another furnace, where it is allowed to 
cool very slowly, in order to prevent cracking, to which 
elass, quickly cooled, is very liable; this last process is 
termed annealing. 

The above mode of blowing is sufficient for round 
bottles, or other articles of similar form, but for square 
or flat bottles a mould of iron or copper is required; 
this is made in two halves, between which the un- 
finished round bottle is placed, while yet very soft, and 
adhering to the blow-pipe. ‘The mould is then shut 
close, and the air strongly forced into the bottle, which 
forces the glass to take the form of the mould. Names 
and coats of arms are often impressed on bottles in this 
manner. ‘The article is afterwards annealed as usual. 

Common window glass is at first blown much in the 
saine way as bottles. A large globe is formed exactly 
in the same manner, and when it is necessary to sepa- 
rate the pipe, another workman is required to fix the 
iron rod to the other end on account of the great 
weight: the pipe is then separated. “hus far every 
thing is done as before stated, but the subsequent ope- 
rations, by which the globe is converted into a fiz 


circular piece, are perfectly dissimilar. Different modes 
2A 2 


180 


of effectins this are in use in different manufactories, 
but the most striking is that termed “ flashing,” which 
we proceed to describe.. ‘The rod to which the glass 
lobe is attached is turned round upon its axis, at first 
slowly, and afterwards rapidly. Every body, perhaps, 
has noticed a game of little girls, in which they turn 
round swiftly until their frocks swell out almost into an 
horizontal position,—the same effect is produced in the 
glass thus rapidly revolving. The hole where the blow- 
pipe separated enlarges gradually, and as the opening 
increases, the workman increases the velocity until the 
globe assumes the form of a bowl or basin, when it 
suddenly spreads out with a sort of explosion and be- 
comes a circular table of red-hot glass. The iron rod 
is then detached from the centre of the plate, leaving a 
large lump called the bull’s eye, andthe glass is an- 
nealed as before. _ . 

The art of making plate-glass is quite different from 
that of blowing. The greatest care in blowing will 
not entirely prevent the occurrence of streaks or flaws 
upon its surface, which spoil its beauty, and render it 
quite unfit for mirrors, as may be seen by the distorted 
firures produced in cheap looking-glasses, which are 
sometimes made of blown glass. For all superior 
purposes, glasses are cast rough upon a metal table, 
and afterwards ground and polished to any degree of 
fineness. The process is very expensive and elaborate, 
requiring large capital and skilful workmen. ‘The 
furnaces for melting the glass in this manufacture are 
very large, and the melting pots contain nearly a ton 
of matérial. Square metal cisterns are placed in the 
pots to receive the melted glass, and to convey it to the 
tables on which it is to be cast: these cisterns remain 
some hours in the melting pots to acquire as great a 
heat as possible. ‘They are then drawn out by means 
of a chain and pulleys, placed on a small iron carriage, 
and‘ wheeled to the extremity of the table, which 1s 
furnished with ledges to confine the melted stuff; the 
elass is then let out of the cistern, either by turning it 
over or by slipping off the bottom, and a torrent of red- 
hot flaming glass rolls out upon the table, not quite 
fluid, like melted lead or iron, but somewhat thick and 
pasty, like melted sealing-wax. A large roller of metal, 
weighing about four hundred pounds, is rolled upon the 
surface to spread it evenly upon the table, and to make 
it of uniform thickness. The glass is now taken from 
the table, which is ready to receive another casting, and 
the operation is repeated until all the metal is exhausted. 
The short time that glass remains liquid renders great 
quickness necessary in these operations, for the work 
cannot be held at the mouth of the furnace as may be 
done in blowing: the rapidity acquired by habit would 
be incredible to any one who has not witnessed the 
operation, and is surprising to those who do see it. 
When the glasses are well annealed, which takes many 
days to perform, they are rubbed upon each other with 
sand, emery, and polishing powder, until they acquire 
that evenness and polish which gives them so great a 
superiority over all other kinds of glass, and makes 
them the most splendid ornament of the palace and the 
drawing-room. 


The Past and the Present.—Those who have never expe- 
rienced the want of the luxuries and conveniences of every 
description which London and other great cities and towns 
of England now afford, will not readily conceive how our 
uncestors contrived to pass their lives in any degree of 
comfort with their unpaved, unlighted, undrained streets— 
without water conveyed to their doors by pipes or aqueducts 
—without hackney-coaches, or other light vehicles for tra- 
velling—without a general or two-penny post—and a thou- 
sand other petty conveniences, the privation of any one of 
which would grievously disturb the temper and affect the 
comforts of the present generation.— Quarterly Rewew, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


(May 10, 


OSTADE. 


AprtAN Van Osrape, a distinguished painter of the 
Flemish school, was born at Lubeck, in the year 1610, 
and studied under Francis Hale, in company with 
Brauwer, with whom he contracted a close intimacy. 
The reputation which the works of Teniers then enjoyed 
led him to be ambitious of imitating the manner of that 
artist. But he was deterred from the execution of this 
project by the advice of Brauwer, another Flemish 
painter, who convinced him that he could never attain 
a high place in his art if he devoted himself to the 
servile imitation of another, however eminent. Van 
Ostade followed this advice, as well as the bent of his 
own mind; for, while the subjects of which he made 
choice were of the same class with those of Teniers, he 
treated them in a manner altogether his own. 

Characteristic traits, some of which strike us at the 
first glance, distinguish Ostade and'Teniers. ‘These two 
masters are equally admirable for the transparency and 
harmony of their works, but the colouring of Teniers 1s 
clear, gay, and silvery, and his touch firm, light, and 
bold, while the pencil of Ostade, always rich and soft, 
is sometimes wanting in firmness. 

If we consider design and composition, : Teniers 
places in opposition, and unites with skill, numerous 
rroups; bold and able in giving all the effects of light, 
he develops extensive scenes in the open air, and gives 
them the ‘spirit and life of nature, without any of his 
shadows being ever extravagant, and without even suf- 
fering the art of his combinations to be apparent. 
His figures are always correctly drawn; their attitudes 
easy, and even graceful. Ostade, on the contrary, 
collects his figures into places feebly lighted ;—gene- 
rally in the interior of houses, where a partial gleam 
only breaks through the masses of foliage which shade 
the window. He does not always observe the laws of 
nerspective with rigorous accuracy ; and the drawing of 
his figures is.often incorrect. But he charms princi- 
pally by the spirit with which he animates his groups, 
by a general softness of composition, and by his 
mysterious and striking effects of light. *. 

But a difference, still more important, distinguishes 
the works of these two masters. Teniers, while he 
imitates Nature, preserves her grace. If he represents 
rustic festivals, we recognise in the sports of the pea- 
sants, in their joy, in their anger, the diversity of their 
characters. Every condition and every age has its 
peculiar manners. Ostade attaches himself constantly 
to the representation of humorous scenes. Confining 
the circle of his models, he contents himself with 
choosing from the figure and the actions of peasants, 
whatever nature offers of grotesque and of low. He 
varies his subjects with skill, as well as the expression 
of his faces; but he never deviates from the burlesque 
style which he has chosen. Teniers paints the manners 
of the Dutch peasantry as they were marked by occa- 
sional grossness, but with a general character of hearty 
jollity and of mirth proceeding from content. Ostade, 
a satirist, deforms his personages to render them more 
droll and ridiculous. ‘The director of Ostade’s taste, 
Brauwer, painted in alehouses the companions of his 
debauchery ; Ostade, on the contrary, as well as Teniers, 
was remarkable for the decenty and the gravity of his 
manners. 

The coarse natures and the gross enjoyments which 
Ostade delighted to paint are represented with such 
truth and excellence, that the most refined taste regards 
his works with satisfaction. He surprises the jude- 
ment into such implicit admiration by the truth of cha- 
racter and energy of effect displayed, that the ground 
which his choice of subjects often affords for censure is 
forgotten. It is true that his pictures are not always 


}of a low character; but Van Ostade did not often 


1834.] THE PENNY MAGAZINE. ist 


attempt any other, nor excel when he did. It did not - 


occur to the Dutch painters to do what our own Wilkie 

has so admirably done,—to invest the representations 

of common life with dignity and grace, by associating 

~ with scenes which, though familiar, affect the 
eart :— 


© Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, 
Which has been, and may be again.” 


The works of Ostade are too highly laboured to be 
very numerous, and hence they are now only to be 
bought at very high prices. His peculiar talent was so 
much appreciated by the artists of his own time, that 
many of the most eminent were in the habit of soliciting 
him to put the figures into their landscapes, by which 
their value was greatly increased. He had already ac- 
quired considerable reputation, when the approach of | 


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the French troops in 1662 induced him to withdraw 
from Haarlem, where he had gone to complete his 
Studies. He had sold all his works, and intended to 
return to Lubeck; but, on his arrival at Amsterdam, 


an amateur, called Constantine Senneport, so forcibly 


represented to him the advantages which an artist pos- 

sessed in a great city, that he was induced to settle at 

erdam, and remained there until his death in 
3. 

This picture, from the Musée Francais, which we 
have engraved, is particularly remarkable for extreme 
finish. The whole bears the greenish and violet ‘tint 
which was familiar to Ostade; the colouring 1s rather 
monotonous, and the touch wants vigour; but the 
effect of the light is managed with great skill, and the 
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18e 


THE ISLAND OF MILO. 


(From a Correspondent.] 


WuHoEVER attempts, in the summer, to pass up the 
Grecian Archipelago, unless it be in a steamer (which 
sort of vessel is unfortunately most rare in the seas 
where it would be most useful), will very. soon find he 
has undertaken a difficult and very tedious task. In 
the upper part of the Mediterranean, more particularly, 
the winds blow almost with the regularity of the mon- 
soons. In the summer season they are generally contrary 
to those who are sailing for the coast of ‘Troy or Con- 
stantinople. ‘To this impédiment is added the repelling 
force, felt in many latitudes and directions, of a con- 
trary current, in part produced by the waters of the 
Black Sea and Sea of Marmora, which rush almost as 
rapidly into the Mediterranean, by the Straits of the 
Bosphorus and Dardanelles, as do the waters of the 
Atlantic Ocean into the same sea by the Straits of 
Gibraltar at the opposite extremity. ‘This current, in 
the upper part of the Archipelago, runs uniformly and, 
of course, at all seasons, at the rate of four miles an 
hour. ‘The summer wind, which blows from the north, 
and is called the Etesian, commences about the end of 
May, and continues with only short imtermissions or 
changes until September. J have known some twenty 
or thirty vessels, of all flags, reach Tenedos and the 
coast of Troy just as this Mediterranean monsoon set 
in, and be detained there, close to the mouth of the 
Dardanelles, and utterly unable to pass those Straits 
for three months. We were not quite so unfortunate 
as this, though we had our patience well tried. 

We sailed from Malta about the middle of July, 
1827, at which time the whole of the Archipelago 
swarmed with desperate Greek pirates. For protection, 
we were placed under the convoy of a Dutch sloop-of- 
war, proceding to Smyrna. Besides the vessel in which 
we were passengers, there were some twenty other 
merchantmen,— Dutch, English, American, French, 
Sardinian, Maltese, and Neapolitan,—to keep all of 
which together and safe demanded no trifling exertion 
of vigilance and patience on the part of the man-of- 
war. ‘The pirates had become so daring that, in their 
livht misticoes and row-boats, they had several times 
attacked a trading vessel, becalmed at some distance 
from her convoy, and plundered her before the man of- 
war’s boats could get to her assistance. Several times, 
indeed, in the course of our own voyage, we saw, at the 
approach of evenmg, a group of these Greek misticoes 
creeping out from behind some head-land of the coast, 
or dodging round some one of the numerous little 
islands of those seas, on the look out for prey; but the 
taeasures aud the caution of our worthy Dutch captain 
were so excellent that we all escaped injury, though not 
an oceasional alarm. At mght, the convoy-ship carried 
a light at her stern-quarter, and another bright one at 
a yard-arm. ‘he merchantmen had each a light; and, 
in case of any apprehension or danger, each was to 
hoist a second lhght as a signal. Now there were two 
or three ships in the fleet who were apt to sce pirates 
and misticoes when none of the rest could, and their 
ularm-lantern was rather too frequently in motion. 
Whenever it was displayed, the Dutch man-of-war bore 
round in that direction, and there was such a rummag- 
ing for gunpowder, muskets, blunderbusses, swords, 
and pikes on board the rest of the fleet as if another 
Navarmo was to be fought. , 

At other times, however, the fleet, as it was engaged 
in the narrow channels that occur between the beauti- 
ful islands of the Cyclades, and obliged to tack, so that 
the ships, with their bright lines hune out, were con- 
tinually~crossing aud recrossing each other in all 
directions, like figures in an intricate country-dance, 
presented a very novel and delightéul scene, When the 


LHE PENNY MAGAZINE: 


[May 10, 


nights were fine, which they almost invariably were, the 
sailors on board the Dutch man-of-war amnsed them- 
selves by singing together for hours at atime. The 
character of their music was not unhke that of our own, 
but they sang in be‘ter time and more correct tune than 
people of the same class among us. Now and then a 
long cadenced chorus, which seemed swelled by a hun- 
dred manly voices, was exceedingly impressive’. 

Thus we went up the Archipelago, surely, and very 
slowly. It would be inflicting part of the tedium we 
suffered to describe how frequently we were brought to 
a dead stop by a breathless, suffocating calm,—how 
often. we were driven back from our course by the 
violence of the contrary wind,—and how many days we 
were with our tacking and see-sawing in performing a 
distance that a steam-boat would have done in a less 
number of hours. Of the many interesting spots in 
the Archipelago which we had thus an opportunity of 
seeing I may speak on some other occasion; but as my 
present wish is to give a notion of the curious island of 
Milo, I must shorten our approaches ts, that place. We 
were within sight of Milo on the 26tn of July: on the 
26th we had got about fifty miles above it, and were 
attempting to make what is now called the Doro Pas- 
sage, viz., the strait between the Negropont and the 
island of Andros. ‘For three whole days we beat, and 
tacked, and laboured, without apparently getting a mile 
in advance, while some of the fleet made so much lee- 
way that there was danger of their being separated — 
from the convoy. On the third day the wind became 
more violent, and two or three points more against us; 
so that at last the man-of-war gave up the hopeless 
struggle, and, followed by all the merchantmen, ran 
back to Milo, which offers one of the finest ports in the 
world. I have seen most of the celebrated harbours in 
the Mediterranean, bat know none so safe, comniodious, 
and beantiful as this. We entered by a mouth—which 
faces the north-wzst—so narrow that, in seamen’s par- 
lance, we might almost have thrown a biscuit on shore 
on either side of us, and, at the same time, exceedingly 
deep in every part. We then found ourselves in an 
extensive bason, protected from the violence of all 
winds by high lands that entirely surround it. The 
outline of these eminences is exceedingly picturesque. 
On one of the heights, which terminates in an acute 
cone, immediately above the ground where vessels 
generally anchor, stands the present town of Milo, 
which looks as if it were about to slide down into the 
sea; and, on the opposite side of the harbour, a very 
erand mountain, called St. Elia, towers in the blue sky. 


‘In this magnificent harbour we found American, 


French, and Austrian men-of-war, with merchant 
vessels under their convoy; but there was room enough 
for the united navies of the whole world. Here we 
were detained thirteen days, so that if we did not see 
the island well it was not from want of time. 

‘The place offered few resources except such as pre- 
sented themselves in the examination of the antiquities 
and natural curiosities. ‘There was, indeed, a coffee- 
house with a billiard-table at the cominon landing- 
place; but it was a wretched hovel, and the billiard- 
table was afHicted with the mckets. As the weather 
was exceedingly hot, we applied for horses. There 
were none on the island, but the peasants brought us 
some very good mules. Unfortunately, however, for 
us, the only saddle in Milo was one (a demi-pique) 
belonging to the I*rench vice-consul, so that we were 
obliged to ride upon wooden machines, used by the 
Greeks, of a very awkward construction. 

Our first excursion was to the town, to which we as- 

* According to Mr. D'Israeli, “ a society instituted in Holland 
for general good do not consider among their least useful projects 
that of having printed, at a low price, a collection of songs tor 
sallors,”—= Curiosities of Literature, vol, iV¢ 


1834, 


cended by a steep, rough path, which, m many places, 
crumbled and broke away under the mule’s feet. ‘I'he 
whole of this conical hill is composed of volcanic tufa, 
covered here and there with a thin white soil, and, in 
some parts, broken with masses of lava. ‘The town 
itself is a miserable, dirty place, consisting of some thirty 
or forty houses, of one story, built with rough stones, 
wood, and mud. We could scarcely pass through the 
main street—which is narrower than the narrowest alley 
in London—for the pigs, which seemed to hive on very 
intimate terms with the inhabitants, and for the. mud 
and filth that was accumulated in every part of it. The 
situation, the view it commands, and the coolaess of the 
air on that mountain-top, are, however, delicious. As 
we went through the town, we were followed by nearly 
all the women and girls, pressing us to buy cotton night- 
caps, which they make themselves from cotton grown 
on the island. We were entertained in a tolerably 
clean and comfortable house, by a Greek, who exercised 
the functions of Dutch vice-consul. ‘This house was 
curiously situated on the Very edge of a rock that 
descended like a wall to the deep A. gean Sea, into which 
we could drop stones from one of the windows. ‘The 
height must have been between two and three thousand 
feet. After having examined the town, where we found 
several beautiful fragments of ancient marbles, and 
architectural ornaments, one of which (the capital of a 
column of the Corinthian order) had been hollowed 
out and then served as a pig-trough, while most of the 
others were converted into steps, or imbedded in the 
walls of the houses, we proceeded to the ancient Greek 
tombs, which are situated a little lower down the hill. 
To our surprise, we found a labyrinth of subterranean 
passages running through the hill in every direction. 
Indeed, the whole of the superior part of this hill is 
completely honeycombed. These passages, which are 
now, for the most part, choked up with soil and rubbish, 
are series of burying-places, the total number of which 
is so enormous that it would almost induce us to believe, 
though we find no authority in ancient writers for such 
a conclusian, that Melos* was a favourite place of 
sepulture among the ancient Greeks—a N ecropolis, or 
city of the dead, for all the surrounding islands. In 
other parts of Milo there are tombs almost as numerously 
congregated as here; and, whatever may have been the 
supcrior population in its flourishing times, we can 
searcely believe that it could require all these burying- 
places. 

We crept into several of the dark, melancholy passages, 
which appear to have been lined throughout with fine 
stucco, and ornamented, at intervals, with figures in 
terra-cotta, in very bold relief. But every thing ac- 
cessible had been removed before our time. We, how- 
ever, procured from a peasant a specimen of the clay- 
relievi, It was like a thick, flat tile, about fifteen 
inches long, by nine inches broad, There were three 
figures in profile, that seemed to form part of a pro- 
cession, upon it. The style of these figures was very 
simple and ancient, and seemed to be something between 
the oldest Egyptian and that style vaguely denominated 
the Etruscan. The clay, or terra-cotta, was a beautiful 
compact, yellowish-red substance, and so well baked as 
to be harder than granite. The outline of the figures, the 
relief of which was not rounded off, but stood up straight 


and flat from the ground of the piece, was as sharp 


and perfect as if it had just come from the artist’s 
hands, although the fragment had been sub} ected to very 
rough treatment since it had been dug up by the poor 
Greek. A short time before our visit to the island, a 
French nobleman (I believe the Count Delaborde) had 
some of the tombs laid open, and some excavations 
made. A beautiful small statue, of the very best period 


* The ancient Greek name of Milo. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


183 


of Grecian art, some curious gold ornaments, and some 
other relics of antiquity, which were all presented to 
the French king, were the results of these exertions, 
and, as I was informed, were found entirely among the 
tombs. 

A few days after our first visit, as we were climbing 
up to the town, we witnessed the ceremonies of a 
modern Greek funeral. The tomb was not very clas- 
sical or elegant, but some of the forms observed were 
evidently. derived from the classical ages. We were 
examining an old half-ruined chapel that stands on the 
hill side, about midway between the port and the 
ancient cemeteries, when our ears were struck with 
sounds of lamentation and woe. On looking up, we 
saw a procession of about thirty persons winding slowly 
down a steep zig-zag path that leads from the town to 
the old chapel, As it approached nearer, we saw that 
this procession was chiefly composed of women, who 
preceded a dead body borne on an open bier, and who 
tore their dishevelled hair and beat their breasts, and 
uttered wild cries as they advanced. ‘These represented 
the prefice, or hired troop of female mourners of 
ancient days. 

As they reached the spot where we stood, we per- 
ceived that the dead body, which was that of an elderly 
woman, was arrayed in her best attire, and that flowers 
were strewed over her and the open hier on which she 
was carried, and that a bouquet was placed in each of 
her hands, which were crossed over her breast. ‘The 
bier was closely followed by the female relatives of the 
deceased, whose heads were completely enveloped and 
concealed in folds of white drapery. All this was per- 
fectly in accordance with ancient usage. 

The procession passed to the rear of the chapel, where 
we saw a rude shallow grave, scarcely three feet deep. 
As the women who headed the line of march drew near 
to the grave, they tore their hair, beat their breasts, 
and cried aloud more violently than ever. The bier 
was set down on the brink of the tomb, at either end 
of which a priest with an encensoir took his post. 
Then all the near relations of the deceased, male and 
female, approached, and, one by one, took a last em- 
brace, raising the corpse in their arms, calling on Its 
name, and then laying its head on the bier. While 
this was doing, the female mourners repeated the name 
of the deceased, and showed the utmost extravagance 
of grief. Ina few minutes the body was lifted up by 
the priests and two male relatives, and deposited as it 
was, full dressed, but without any coffin or shell of any 
kind, in the shallow grave. The grave, however, was 
boarded beneath in part, and under the head of the 
corpse they carefully placed a cushion or pillow. The 
voice of lamentation was then hushed for awhile ;—the 
priests said the service for the dead, laid a small wooden 
cross on her breast, and threw a handful of earth into 
the grave. As the last symbolical action was periormed 
the mourners again wailed, beat their breasts, and tore 
their hair; but almost immediately after they all left 
the grave and withdrew to the other side of the chapel. 
There was one little incident in this melancholy scene 
which almost provoked a smile. Before the body was 
covered, one of the party approached it, took off the 
shoes on its feet, which wcre a new pair, and the turbap. 
from its head, substituting for them an old pair of shoes 
and another turban of inferior quality. ‘he earth was 
then thrown in upon the body, until the very shallow 
grave was filled up, and a mound, only a few inches 
high, raised above it. 

As we were about to leave the place, an old Greek 
came to us and invited us to partake of the funeral feast, 
which all of the party were now celebrating in front of 
the chapel. We went, and were regaled with wine, 
raki (a bad sort of brandy), cakes made ‘of honey, oii, 
and flour, and with ‘ colyva,” which is a species of 


184 


udding composed of boiled wheat, almonds, and honey. 
Except the raki, these materials were pretty much the 
same as those used both by the ancient Greeks and the 
ancient Romans on the same occasions. ‘The cates and 
drink were distributed by the priests, who seemed to 
partake sufficiently copiously of both. After this feast, 
which occupied about half an hour, the procession again 
formed, passed by the grave, throwing a few flowers 
and dark-green herbs upon it as they passed it, and 
then slowly ascended the hill to the little town. 


[To be coneluded in the next Number. ] 





SALMON FISHING ON THE COAST OF ANTRIM, 
AND SAGACITY OF A DOG, 


“Tire mode of fishing on this coast is different from any that 
I have seen: the net is projected directly outward from the 
shore, with a slight De forming a bosom in that direction 
in which the salmon come. From the remote extremity, a 
rope is brought obliquely to another part of the shore, by 


which the net may be swept round at pleasure and drawn to } 


the land; a heap of small stones is then prepared for each 
person. All things being ready, as soon as the watchman 
perceives the fish advancing to the net, he gives the word, 
and immediately some of the fishermen seize the oblique 
rope by which the net is swept round to enclose the salmon, 
while the rest keep up an incessant cannonade with their 
ammunition of stones to prevent the retreat of the fish till 
the net has been completely pulled round them; after 
which they all join forces and drag the fish quietly to the 
rocks. Now that I am upon the subject of fishing, I may 
mention an instance of sagacity which I had an opportunity 
of observing a short time since, in a water-dog of this 


country, who had become an excellent fisher. In riding } 
from Portrush to the Giant's Causeway with some company, { 


we had occasion to ford the river Bush near the sea; and 
as some fishermen were going to haul their net, we stopped 
to sce their success. As soon as the dog perceived the men 
to move, he instantly ran down the river of his own accord, 
and took post in the middle of it on some shallows, where 
he could occasionally run or swim, and in this position he 
placed himself with all the eagerness and attention so 
strongly observable in a pointer dog who sets his game. 
We were for some time at a loss to apprehend his object; 
but the event soon satisfied us, and amply justified the 
prudence of the animal; for the fish, when they feel the 
net, always endeavour to make directly to sea. Accordingly, 
one of the salmon, escaping from the net, rushed down the 
stream with great velocity toward the ford, where the dog 
stood ready to receive him at an advantage. 
diverting chase now commenced, in which, from the shallow- 

ness of the water, we could discern the whole track of the 

fish, with all,its rapid turnings and windings. After a 

smart pursuit, the dog found himself left considerably 

behind, in consequence of the water deepening, by which he 

had been reduced to the necessity of swimming. But, 

instead of following this desperate game any longer, he 

readily gave it over, and ran with all his speed directly 
down the river, till he was sure of being again to seaward of 
the salmon, where he took post, as before, in his pointer’s 

attitude. Here the fish a second time met him, and a fresh 
pursuit ensued; in which, after various attempts, the 

salmon at last made its way out to sea, notwithstanding all 
the ingenious and vigorous exertions of its pursuer. 
Though the dog’ did not succeed at this time, yet I was 
informed that it was no unusual thing for him to run down 
his game; and the fishermen assured me that he was ‘of 
very great advantage to them by turning the salmon toward 
the nets ;. in which point of view his efforts in some measure 
corresponded with the cannonade of stones which I before 
mentioned.”"—Hamulton's Anirim. 





Mental Culture.—It was said by Charles XII. of Sweden, 
that he who was ignorant of the arithmetical art was but 
half a man. . With how much greater foree may a similar 
expression be applied to Aim who carries to his grave. the 
neglected and unprofitable seeds of faculties which it de- 
pended on himself to have reared to maturity, and of 
which the fruits bring accessions to human happiness more 
precious than all the gratifications which power or wealth 
can command,— Dugald Stewart, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


A very | 


[May 10, 1834, 


Incredulity.—Raleigh calls incredulity the “ wit of 
fools.” 





Entire Application.—Little can be done well to which 
the whole mind is not applied.—Johmson. 





Genius.—A distinguished teacher, and president of a 
college, defined genius to be “ the power of making efforts.” 
—Annals of Education. 





Best Place and Best Friend.—The best place in the world 
is the saddle of a rapid courser: the dest friend in the world 
is a good book.—-Avabian Author. 





Common Qualities.—The ambition of a man of parts is 
very often disappointed for the want of some common quality, 
by the assistance of which men With very moderate abilities 
are capable of making a great figure.—Armstrong.. 


Knowledge and Ignorance.—The man of knowledge lives 
eternally after his death, while his members are reduced to 
dust beneath the tomb. But the ignorant man is dead, 
even while he walks upon the earth: he is numbered with 
living men, and yet existeth not.—Arabian Author. 


Economy.—A. sound economy is a sound understanding 
brought into action. It is calculation realized. It is the 
doctrine of proportion reduced to practice. It is foreseeing 
contingencies, and providing against them. It is expecting 
contingencies, and being prepared for them.—Hannah More. 


Roman History.—One feels the same kind of disgust in 
reading Roman‘history which one does in novels, and even 
epic poetry. We too easily foresee to whom the victory will 
fill.’ The hero, the knight-errant, and the Roman, are too 
seldom overcome.—Shenstone. _ 


Remote Views.—It is common to overlook what is near by 
keeping the eye fixed on something remote. In the same 


| manner present opportunities are neglected and attainable 


good is slighted by minds busied in extensive ranges, and 
intent upon future advantages. Life, however short, is made 
shorter by waste of time ; and its progress towards happiness, 
though naturally slow, is made still slower by unnecessary 
labour.—Johnson, : 





Routine Education.—It is related by Miss Edgeworta, 
that a gentleman, while attending an examination of a 
school, where every question was answered with the greatest 
promptness, put some questions to the pupils which were 
not exactly the same as found in the book. After numerous 
ready answers to their teacher on the subject of geography, 
he asked one of the pupils where Turkey was. She an- 
swered rather hesitatingly, ‘ a the yard, with the poultry. 


Practical Instruction.—A gentleman, not long since, took 
up an apple to show a niece, sixteen years of age, who had 
studied geography several years, something about the shape 
and motion of the earth. ’ She looked at him a few minutes, 
and said with much earnestness, “ Why, uncle, you don’t 
mean that the earth really turns round, do you?"’ He re- 
plied, “ But did you not learn that several years ago ?’ 
‘“‘ Yes, sir,’ she replied, “ I /earned it, but I never knew it 
before.” Now it is obvious that this young lady had been 
labouring ,several years on the subject of geography, and 
croping im almost total darkness, because some kind friend 
did not show her at the outset, by some familiar illustration, 
that the earth really turned round.—American Annals of 
Education. 





#,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln's-Inn Fields. 


' LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 


Printed by Wini1am Ciowgs, Duke Street, Lambeth, | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





136.1] 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[May 17, 1834. 











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Tu1s borough, sea-port, and county-town occupies the 
north bank of the river Tyne, over which there is a 
handsome stone bridge connecting the place with 
Gateshead in the neighbouring county of Durham. 
Newcastle is of great antiquity, and of considerable 
note in history. It was established as a military sta- 
tion of the Romans by Agricola, in the year 80. Here 
was the eastern termination of the wall built by order 
of Hadrian, in the year 120, to defend the Roman pro- 
vince from the incursions of the Caledonians, and which 
has been traced passing the west door of St. Nicholas’s 
church, he town is supposed to have origmated from 
a bridge built over the river by Hadrian, and called from 
his family name Pous ASlii,—a denomination which was 
also taken by the town. Roman coins and other an- 
tiquities have been discovered at Newcastle at different 
times, particularly after the floods in 1771, when the 
foundations of the bridge having been damaged, coins 
of Hadrian and other emperors were discovered at the 
bases of the piers; and, in 1810, in excavating the 
cround for the erection of a new county court, two 
Romen altars were disinterred, together with coins of 
Antoninus Pius, the successor of Hadrian, as well as 
other remains of antiquity. 

Myom the evacuation of Britain by the Romans 
until the Conquest little is known of this place ; but 
there is no doubt of its having been a town of import- 
ance under the Northumbrian monarchs of the Saxon 
line, who appear to have been succeeded in the pos- 
session of it by the Danes; and, at the Conquest, it was 
i the hands of the Scots. It was then known by the 
name of Munk-ceastre cr Monk-chester, a designation 
which it obtained from the number of religious founda- 
sions which had been established in it during the Hep- 
tarchy, and some remains of which are still in existence. 
he Scots were speedily expelled, and a castle being 
erected by Robert, the eldest son of the Conqueror, on 
the site of an old fortress, the town thence took its pre- 
cont name of Newcastle. This castle occupied an 
extent of three acres, and was a fortress of great 
strength, having been defended by a deep ditch and 
two massive walls. Many historical recollections are 
connected with this structure, which has now fallen to 
decay. Of the outer wall nothing remains but the 
principal entrance, called the Black Gate; the inner 
wall was entirely. demolished in 1811. ‘he great 
tower, a massive square structure, 1s standing; it is 
about eighty feet high, and its exterior walls measure 
about fourteen feet in thickness, and extend sixty-two 
feet by fifiy-four. ‘There are no fire-places in any part 
of this edifice, except in a few small rooms which 
appear to have been cut out of the walls in later 
times. The dungeon was used from time immemorial, 
wutil the erection of the present Court-house, as the: 
county prison during the assizes. A very bold circular 
staircase ascends to the summit of the tower ; and ad- 
joming, on the east side, 1s a chapel of most beautiful 
and curious architecture. 

The town itself appears to haye heen surrounded by 
2 wall so early as the reign of King John, who granted 
«a charter to the inhabitants; but the oldest charter 
extant is said to be that of Henry IIT., who, in 1239, 
bestowed on the townsmen the right of digging in the 
vicinity for coal and stone. In the reign of Edward I., 
Newcastle. was taken and burnt by the Scots; and 
among their prisoners was one of the burgesses, who, 
being a rich man, paid his ransom, and on his return 
home commenced rebuilding the fortifications, to the 
expense of which he largely contributed: they were 
completed by the inhabitants in general, encouraged 
by the king, who united to the town the hamlet of 
Pampedon, or Pandon, which was included within the 
walls, This rampart is said to have been twelve feet 
high, and eight in thickness, strengthened with’ several 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 17, 


towers and furnished with seven gates, besides which 
the place was defended by a wide ditch. An incidental 
notice of this wall occurs in a deed of Edward I., who 
eranted to the black friars or Dominicans the right to 
make a passage through the new wall to their garden. 
Ata later period, Leland said of this wall, ‘The strength 
and magnificens of the waulling far passeth all the 
waulls of the cities of England, and most of the townes 
of Europe.” Newcastle, at this early period, had 
become one of the principal commercial ports of the 
kingdom; and it appears from authentic documents 
that the revenues of the town had, in 1280, risen to 
2001. a year—a large sum at that time. ‘This income 
was derived chiefly from the municipal duty upon coal, 
the use of which for fuel did not, however, becoine 
general until long suhsequently to that period. In 
1346, seventeen ships and 314 mariners were furnished 
by this port for the siege of Calais, on the requisition 
of Edward III. The situation of Newcastle, upon the 
borders of Scotland, exposed it to the repeated attacks 
of the Scots before the union of the two kingdoms, 
When they invaded England, previously to the out- 
breaking of the civil war, they took possession of New- 
castle. It was afterwards garrisoned by the Royalists ; 
but, in 1664, it was again, after a long siege, taken by 
the Scots, who were then in alliance with the Parlia- 
ment. 

The town is about ten miles from the mouth of the 
Tyne, but the river is there a fine, deep, and noble 
stream; its banks are steep, and the ground rises on 
each side to a considerable height. Ships of 300 or 
400 tons burden may reach the town itself; larger 
vessels deliver their cargoes and take in their lading at 
Shields; and the river forms so secure and commodious 
a haven, that danger rarely if ever ensues in it either 
from storms or shallows. | . 

The town within and without the walls extends for 
more than two miles along the river, and about cone 
mile from the river towards the north and north-west, 
rising along the hill and crowning its summit. The 
houses are, with very few exceptions, built either of 
stone or of brick; the streets near the river, which 
were formed at a remote period of tune, are narrow, 
irregular, and steep, and the buildings on the slope of 
the hill much crowded together: but with its progress 
in wealth and importance the town has received pro- 
portionable additions and improvements; several of the 
strects have been widened, and a great number ‘of 
modern ones have been erected, especially in the north 
and west quarters of the town. ‘hese newer quarters 
are laid out with skill and taste, and in a superior style 
of architecture; and the spirit cf improvement, with the 
increasing prosperity of the place, bid fair to render it 
equal in convenience and elegance to the first towns of 
the kingdom. ‘The Boundary Commissioners, in their 
Reports (Part iv. p. 173,) state, * We are led to believe 
that ihe condition of the town of Newcastle is gene- 
rally flourishing ; we have observed numerous buildings 
of a very good and respectable, and some of a very 
superior description, either im progress or very recently 
completed; and we were informed by the parish officers 
that the town was increasing.” 3 

Of the public buildings, the most remarkable is the 
church of St. Nicholas, noted as one of the most 
admired structures of the kind in the island. ‘This fine 
church crowns a bold eminence which rises abruptly 
from the surface of the river to near the centre of the 
town. From this commanding position it presents, 
in every point of view, a most striking specimen, of 
architectural skill. ‘“‘ It is,” says the writer of ‘A 
Descriptive and Historical Account of the Town and 
County of Newcastle-upon-Tyne,’ ‘an object of pride 
and boast to the inhabitants; and it never fails, by its 
singular and original combinations of magnificence, 


1834.} 


delicacy, and ingenuity, to enchant and gratify every 
stranger who has ‘ an eye to see and a soul to feel.’” 
The building appears to have been originally founded 
in the fourth year of William Rufus (1091), by 
Osmund, Bishop of Salisbury; but it does not seem to 
have been completed in its present state until 1359, 
the first structure having been destroyed by fire in 
1216. ‘The building is 240 feet long, 75 wide, and 
the height of the tower 193 feet 6 inches. ‘This 
structure has been compared to an imperial crown. 
The tower is square, and its four angles are decorated 
with Jofty and highly-ornamented spires, from whose 
bases spring four segments of arches, which at their 
intersection, twenty feet above the battlements, support 
a lantern of exquisite lightness and beauty, with 
smaller spires than those of the tower at its angles, 
while from its centre rises a lofty and well-proportioned 
pinnacle, which, terminating with a fine vane, finishes 
this extraordinary structure. ‘This tall and elegant 
pinnacle, which is hollow within, is built with stones 
only four inches in breadth, and indeed most of the 
stones throughout the tower are such as the workmen 
might have carried under their arms. There are three 
other churches, and several chapels of ease, besides 
fifteen places of worship belonging to dissenters. New- 
castle has several fine public buildings. The Exchange 
was built in 1658, and has since been much improved ; 
the second floor is used as a Guildhall, and contains, 
among other portraits, those of Earl Eldon, Lord 
Stowell, and the late Admiral Lord Collingwood, all 
natives of this town; as was the late Dr. Hutton. 
That very original artist and engraver, Bewick, one 
of whose pupils furnishes our present wood-cut, was 
born near and lived at Newcastle. 

The new courts of justice for the county of North- 
umberland, the Mansion House, the 'Vheatre, the 
Assembly Rooms, and the Library, are the other more 
important public buildings. The new bridge over the 
Tyne was finished in 1781, at a cost of 80,000/.; it 
is avery strong, handsome structure, of nine elliptic 
arches, and extends 600 feet in length. ‘Yo the south 
and east of the Exchange there is a spacious area, 
which, being well wharfed up and faced wit! freestone, 
forms the quay, which is one of the largest and longest 
in any part of Great Britain. Newcastle is honourably 
distinguished by its institutions for the advancement 
and diffusion of knowledge, for the number of its esta- 
blishments for gratuitous instruction and for relief to 
the afflicted. 

The importance and prosperity of Newcastle have 
chiefly emanated from the coal trade, for the prosecu- 
tion of which the town is admirably sitnated on the 
bank of a navigable river, and in the midst of one of 
the most extensive coal-fields in Great Britain, or 
perhaps in the world. Coal is scarcely mentioned in 
history until after the grant of Henry III., relative to 
the right of digging for coal, in 12395 but, thirty-six 
years after, the commerce in this article had become 
very considerable, and it continued to increase, not- 
withstanding that the prejudice against using coal for 
fuel was so great, that, in 1306, it was prohibited in 
London under severe penalties. This prohibition was 
suysequently removed, and it appears that the trade in 
coal between Newcastle and London was authorized by 
government in 1381. In 1699, two-thirds of the coal- 
trade of the kingdom belonged to this town, whence 
‘300,000 chaldrons a year were sent to the metropolis ; 
and 600 vessels of 80 chaldrons burden each, together 
with 4500 men, were employed in carrying on this com- 
merce. ‘The quantity of coal shipped from Newcastle, 
in I791, was 404,367 chaldrons sent coastwise, and 
49,702 over sea; in 1801, 452,092 sent coastwise, and 
90,401 over sea; in 1811, 634,371 sent coastwise, and 
18,094 over sea; in 182], 692,321 sent coastwise, and 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


ete eatin anne me eo a a a i a atc a aaa tama lmmamamaaaammaamaaaaaaaaaaaaammaaaamamammammmamamaaaaaaaalncacaaimmmaaacaaiamsaaaamcalaasadiaaiaaaal 


187 


48,097 over sea; and in 1826, 800,437 sent coastwise, 
and 62,620 over sea. 

In the number of vessels belonging to its port, 
Newcastle is inferior ouly to London: the number 
was, in 1829, 987 ships of 202,379 registered tonnage. 
Its foreign trade seems also increasing. ‘The Britisn 
vessels which entered from foreign parts in 163i were 
422,—tonnage, 68,975 5 and the foreign vessels, 323,— 
tonnage, 33,402; whereas, in 1826, the British vessels 
from foreign parts were only 360, and the fereign 
vessels only 226, 

The borough has returned members to Parliament 
ever since the reign of Edward]. From 1705 to the 
passing of the Reform Bill, the elective franchise was 
exercised by the corporation and freemen, who amouuted 
to 4000. In 1S31, the number of houses in the borough 
was 5232, of which 2961 were taxed at 10/. a-year and 
upwards; the annual value of the real property was 
123,790/.; and the population amounted to 42,760; 
but the borough, as enlarged by the Reform bill, 
contains 7120 houses, and a population of 53,612, 
according to the Boundary Reports. 





CLOCKS. 


Tus first mode of measuring the lapse of time was 
undoubtedly the observation of the sun’s motion. In 
almost all climates the morning, noon, and evening 
would be readily distinguished. ‘The Babylonians ap- 
pear to be the first who obtained greater accuracy by 
the invention of the sun-dial, at what epoch is not 
exactly known, but it was evidently at a very remote 
period. ‘The dial of Ahaz, mentioned by Isaiah, must 
have existed eight centuries before the Christian era; 
and it is a curious example of the little communication 
which existed in ancient times between the nations of 
the world that this instrument was unknown to the 
Greeks until about 640 B.c. One of these Grecian 
sun-dials is preserved in the British Museum. It is 
conjectured that it served to show the hour in one of 
the cross-ways of Athens. ‘The following is a represen- 
tation of it; the Greek inscription, placed on the ex- 
terior of the two western faces, states, that ‘* Phedrus, 
the son of Zoilus, a Peonian, made this :”— 


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A few centuries later, the Egyptians, in order to dis- 
tinguish the hours at night and in ‘cloudy weather 


4 boa 


188 


invented the clepsydra, or water-clock ; probably a mere 
float, with a rod fixed upon it like a mast, and placed 
in a vessel of water with a hole at the bottom: as the 
water ran out the float descended, and figures marked 
on the rod, at proper intervals, showed the number 
of hours elapsed. ‘The sand-glass, made like the 
modern hour-glass, was also used in ancient times, 
as appears from a bas-relief representing the marriage 
of Peleus and Thetis, in which is the figure of Mor- 
pheus holding a glass of this construction. 

The period of the invention of wheel-clocks is in- 
volved in uncertainty, some authors stating it to have 
been as early as the fourth, and others as late as the 
tenth century. The cause of this disagreement is that 
the word clock has been used to designate the clepsydra 
and hour-glass; and probably the clocks mentioned by 
old chroniclers, and set down by modern authors as 
proofs of the antiquity of the invention, were some 
modifications of these instruments. Such, probably, 
was the clock sent by Paul I. to Pepin le Bref, in 760. 

The French historians describe a clock sent to Charle- 
inagne, in 807, by Haroun al Rashid, the Caliph of the 
East, which struck the hours by the falling of twelve 
brass balls upon a bell. It had also twelve horsemen, 
who came out, one at a time, at separate doors, which 
they opened and closed again. This clock must certainly 
have been furnished with some kind of wheel-work, but 
the moving power Is said to have been the fall of water. 

In the twelfth century, clocks moved by weights ap- 
pear to have been used in Italy, and early in the four- 
teenth one was put up in London by Wallingford, a 
monk, who died in 1325, which was said to show the 
time with accuracy. In the year 1344, Giacomo Dondi 
erected at Padua his celebrated clock, which, besides 
the hour of the day, showed the course of the sun in the 
ecliptic, and the places of the planets. ‘The celebrity 
acquired by this clock was the cause of great advance- 
ment in the art; almost every court in Europe was 
desirous of possessing a similar work, and skilful 
mechanics were in consequence induced to turn their 
attention to the manufacture. Its author was dignified 
with the surname of Horologius, which is still borne 
by his descendants, the chief of whom, the Marchese 
Dondi-Orologio, was lately, and most likely still is, a 
resident at Padua. 

A story told of Louis XI. (King of France from 
1461 to 1483) shows that the art had then made great 
advances. A gentleman who had lost a great deal of 
money at play, stole a clock belonging to the king, and 
hid it in his sleeve. In a short time, the clock, which 
continued to go notwithstanding its removal, struck tlie 
hour, and the theft was of course discovered. Louis, 
aS Capricious in kindness as in tyranny, not only 
pardoned the culprit, but made him a present of the 
clock. All these instruments, though much superior to 
the clepsydra, and celebrated at the period of their 
invention for the accuracy of their movements, gave, 
according to our present notions, but coarse approxima- 
tions to the true time. They were retarded creatly 
when a particle of dust got into their works, and 
accelerated when cleaned. As to the minute divisions 
of time, they were quite useless. ‘Tycho Brahe, an 
astronomer who lived in the sixteenth century, and who 
spared no expense or trouble in their construction, 
found that no dependance could be placed upon them 
tor his observaticns. 

The adaptation of the pendulum by the celebrated 
Huygens, in 1657, at once brought clock-making to 
perfection. The clock, which had hitherto merely 
served to divide the day into periods of sufficient 
accuracy for the details of business, or the hours of 
eating and sleeping, now hecame the means of record- 
ing the minutest lapses of time, of showing the smallest 
irregularities in the apparent motion of the sun and 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 17, 


planets, and of reducing astronomy to the exactness of 
mathematical reasoning. Increased skill in workman- 
ship has, of course, produced greater accuracy, but the 
pendulum is still the means of giving it effect. 

[To be continued.) 


Cacao.—The ‘ Account of the Cacao-Tree and its Products,’ 
in No. 127 of ‘ The Penny Magazine,’ has induced a Corre- 
spondent to send us the following statement of what he 
considers the best mode of preparing the cacao-bean for use. 
Cacao, in the nut, is sold in his neighbourhood (300 miles 
from London) for 1s. 2d. per lb., and it may be roasted in. 
any family at the cost of an additional penny. It is very 
desirable that it should be roasted by the consumers them- 
selves, at intervals not exceeding five days, as the shop- 
keepers do not roast frequently enough, and the strength 
and aroma of cacao, as well as that of coffee, cannot long be 
preserved after the bean has been roasted, and still less 
after it has been ground. It may be roasted in a shallow 
dish, either in an oven or over an open fire; but, for retaining 
the flavour of the cacao, the oven isbest. The pellicle should 
be roasted separately, and ground or pounded with the aut. 
Three-quarters of an ounce of this powder, added to a pint 
of hot water, and boiled for a short time, will afford a good 
and cheap breakfast for one person. Milk and sugar may 
be added in the usual manner. The quantity of cacao 
employed would cost but three farthings; but, no doubt, 
an ounce of the powder would make the beverage more 
nourishing and palatable. Our correspondent, however, 
thinks that cacao-paste is the best and most economical 
form in which the article can be employed, when sold for 
1s. 4d. per lb., as is the case in some shops, though not in 
country places. Three-quarters of an ounce, dissolved in 
boiling water, makes a pint of cacao at once, without further 
trouble or delay, and of better quality than that from the 
powder. 


Similes from Firdousee.—The readers of the ‘ Penny 
Magazine’ having, in a former Number, been introduced 
to the Persian poet Firdousee, will, perhaps, be pleased to 
see the following similes, imitated from that author. They 
are both taken from the ‘ Asiatic Journal’ for 1825, 

If Envy’s bitter plant in Eden grew, 
Manured with virgin honey at its root, 

And moistened ever with ambrosial dew,— 
Acrid and poisonous still would be its fruit. 





Bright thoughts and sparkling language, unexpressed, 
Conceal’d or slumbering in the human breast, 

Are like a diamond lodyed within the mine ; 

Darkness and dross its dazzling beams confine; 
Withdrawn from thence, its liberated ray 

Blazes abroad, and emulates the day. 


MUSIC.—(Continued.) 


We have now found fault enough with everything and 
everybody, and it remains to try to suggest the means 
of improvement without further digression. But this 
we cannot do without effort ; for at this moment, as we 
sit down to write, comes tlie identical fiddler, who is 
always to be found at — o’clock on evening in 

street, and favours us once more with doleful 
airs, no two notes of which are in tune except by com- 
pensation of errors, that is, his strings being wrong 
and his fingers also, it happens that between the two 
he is occasionally right, one correcting the other. We 
conquer this temptation to write once more against 
street music, and proceed. 

The unpractised ear universally prefers the human 
voice to any instrument, and perhaps we may say that 
a great portion of the really musical world does the 
same. This is lucky for our purpose, because the cul- 
tivation of the voice happens to be the only method by 
which the great mass of our fellow-countrymen can 
ever hope to attain any knowledge of music. Singing 
in parts is delightful, when the voices accord well; 
and there are countries where the most humble peasant 
can have this gratification in his own family, or with 
his neighbours. But before singing can be learnt, the 


1834.] 


reading of music must be. acquired, and for the most 
part by the individual himself, without instruction. 
And here lies the great difficulty. The country might 
be inundated by the cheapest music, but it would all 
be so much waste paper, unless efficient means were 
provided to enable every one to teach himself the mean- 
ine of all the dots, bars, lines, &c. And here some 
sounding medium must be provided: for nothing will 
enable us to put a sound on paper. Cheap instruments 
must precede cheap music; no matter how simple their 
construction, or how limited their power of execution: a 
cuitar (fretted) with one string would be sufficient, just 
to enable the learner to study the different intervals. 
But an instrument of some sort there must be; and, 
therefore, to the consideration of the practicability of 
introducing one we will here confine ourselves, observ- 
ing only that, after this, the reading of music would be 
more easily learnt than the reading of English. 

As it would be rather dry work learning to read 
miutsic upon a simple monochord, (as the guitar above- 
mentioned must be called,) and as it would be very 
desirable to enable the beginner to play the simple airs 
which he knows as soon as possible, some other mode 
must be thought of. At first it struck us that the 
Pan’s pipe would answer the purpose, being cheap and 
easily learnt; but, unfortunately, this instrument is 
seldom in tune, and it wants the semitones: the intro- 
duction of pipes for these among the others would 
render the instrument difficult to perform upon, but 
without the semitones very little can be done. 

Here then is a fair field for all mechanics who have 
been, or are, employed in the construction of musical 
instruments, to exert their ingenuity. And we promise 
any one who can succeed in producing a satisfactory 
result, under the following conditions, to make his 
name and invention known from one end of the country 
to the other, without any expense to him, so soon as 
we shall be satisfied that the conditions are fulfilled, 
or even that most of the difficulties are overcome :— 

1. It must be cheap, and not very liable to get out 
of order. By cheap we mean that, for a moderately 
large demand, the price must be under five shillings. 

2. It must be in perfect tune, and well tempered, by 
which we do not merely mean that it can be played in 
tune by one who knows how, as is the case with a flute 
or violin, but that any one must be able to produce as 
perfect an interval as the instrument will give, as in the 
case of the piano or organ. 

3. Its range must be at least two octaves, with all 
the semitones complete, beginning with the lowest «a 
(under the lines) of the treble clef. If it could be made 
to extend so far as two octaves and a half, 1t would be 
all the better. 

4. It must admit of simple airs being played upon it, 
such as are most commonly sung—of such a degree 
of difficulty, for example, as the well-known air ‘ Life 
let us cherish.’ 

5. It must not be very loud or full, the main object 
being to teach true intervals, which would be better 
done by a note of the quality of a tuning-fork than that 
of an organ-pipe. 

In addition to the above, it would be desirable that 
the instrument should be struck or drawn with a bow, 
rather than blown, for the convenience of trying the 
voice, but perhaps this may be unattainable. ‘The pro- 
duction of such an instrument as described above, or at 
least approaching to it in good qualities, might do 
much to lay the foundation of a correct musical taste 
in this country. 

Upon considering the various means which might 
be used to reach the end, we find ourselves stopped by 
not knowing the extent of the practical difficulties which 
would occur. The Pan’s pipes might certainly be pro- 
vided with additional tubes, or an apparatus might be 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


189 


contrived to lengthen or shorten those of the diatonic 
scale, by a fixed quantity. Then the question of ex- 
pense is the only one which arises. ‘To answer the end 
with reeds must be almost impossible, as each instru- 
ment would require trial and adjustment. But is the 
reed the only material which could be used? could not 
thin pipes of sonorous wood or metal be made to supply 
their place ? 

Anything of the organ species would be liable to get 
out of tune: but were it not for this, a small barrel- 
organ, containing some very simple lessons, the notes 
to which should be contained in an accompanying book 
of instruction, would, to a certain extent, answer the 
purpose. . 

A common toy (we forget the name), in which plates 
of glass are struck by a hammer, is not only always 
out of tune, but the glass is apt to yield harmonics, 
which confuse the fundamental note, and the tone is 
not sufficiently pure. But if springs, attached to a 
sounding-board, to be struck with a hammer, could be 
made to produce a steady tone for a few instants, in any 
way similar to that of a tuning-fork, the end would be 
very well answered, provided the machine were not too 
expensive. 

The instruments which are usually constructed will 
do but little towards effecting any change :—First, 
because they are too dear; secondly, because most of 
them cannot be played in tune, except by a proficient, 
which renders them no guide for an uncultivated ear; 
thirdly, because, being adapted for great execution, and 
requiring a good deal of practice, more time and trouble 
is thrown away upon them than most people can afford, 
or than is requisite for mere elementary purposes. Not 
that the time is lost to those who wish to become mu- 
sicilans, and have sufficient natural capabilities; but to 
all the rest, the mastery of the violin, flute, or clarionet, 
would be like spending time and money in building 
piers when there is not enough of either to finish the 
bridge. A simple instrument, such as we hope some 
will endeavour to construct, would be the mere stepping- 
stone over the gulf which separates written symbols 
from sounds; and when the object is accomplished 
might be abandoned. 

But, it may be asked, why not at once recommend 
the adoption of some of the instruments already in use; 
which, if all were put in the way of hearing correctly 
played, would do much to fix correct ideas of musical 
intervals? Unfortunately, there is little hope of any 
such result being speedily attained. Where a taste is 
to be awakened which, if it exist at all, is In a very 
dull state, it is necessary that the stimulus should 
neither cost much money nor trouble, and that it should 
be applied to the particular point on which there are 
the strongest popular predilections. ‘he makers of 
musical instruments have not yet attempted anything 
at once cheap and sufficient, and the greater part of 
musical books of instruction are very obscure. But if 
we were to recommend an instrument to be made suffi- 
ciently cheap, if possible, for the working classes of 
this country, it should be the guitar. ‘he difficulty of 
tuning should be got over by selling separate tuning- 
forks for each string, and if this could be done there 
would be the following advantages:—Though the 
cuitar admits of very little, either of tone or execution, 
yet that little is what is technically called harmony ; 
that is, proper combinations of notes can be struck at 
once, and in this it would be superior to the flute or 
clarionet, which only produces melody; that is, the 
simple consecutive notes which make up the air. Next, 
the little that an ordinary player can ever hope to do 
on the guitar can be soon done; a very few lessons, 
with a proper book of instructions, would suffice to 
enable the beginner to please himself and others. This 
is hardly so much the case with any other instrument, 


190 


and much more than compensates (for our purpose) the 
limited and feeble character of the one of which we 
speak. ‘Thirdly, it can be played in tune so soon as 
the strings are put in tune; in which we would aid the 
learner by the addition above-mentioned. Fourthly, 


being eutirely under the command of the finger, it: 


admits, all things considered, of great expression. And, 
what is the best of all, it is a good accompaniment for 
the voice; and we do not see why, with half a year of 
self-instruction, a very ordinary singer might not render 
his performance a source of pleasure to himself and 
others. 

If the demand could be made to exist, we feel con- 
vinced that the price of these instruments might be very 
mueh cheapened. We do not, of course, allude to the 
hiehly-polished, six-stringed instrument, with its end- 
less screws for adjustment, and its mother-of-pearl 
bordering: but to something of a more humble degree 
of finish, which might, nevertheless, discourse very 
tolerable music in proper hands. What is there in the 
condition of the Spanish labourer which should enable 
him to possess something beyond the reach of the 
English one? Nothing but this :—that the Spaniard 
will buy it, if it be manufactured for him at a mode- 
rate rate, and the Englishman does not, as yet, care 
about it. | 

We have heard that, some time ago, if not now, 
musical societies were not uncommon in our large 
manufacturing towus. We should be glad to know 
whether this is still the case, and what sort of music 
was most prevalent ? 

And here we must stop; for there would be little use 
in pointing out what steps might be taken if something 
were attainable which has not hitherto been attained. 
If ever the day should come when musical knowledge 
is almost universal, the public will feel the benefit in 
more ways than one. In Moliére’s well-known comedy 
of the ‘ Bourgeois Gentilhomme, the music-master, 
who does not think small things of his art, wants to 
prove to his pupil that all disorders and wars come of 
people not learning music, as follows :— 

AMusic-master.—* Does not war come of the want of 
union among men ?” 

M., Jourdain.— Very true.” 

Music-master.—“* And to make all men learn music, 
would not that be the way to put them all in harmony 
together, and bring about universal peace all over the 
world ?” 

M. Jourdain.—* You are quite right.” 

Without going so far as to think that an orchestra 
would be a good commission to settle a disputed 
boundary, or the meaning of a treaty, we are of opinion 
that social quiet would be much pronioted by the intro- 
duction of an amusement on which no question, either 
of politics or theology, can arise. ‘The hours which are 
spent in society, among all ranks, are, for the most part, 
filled up with fierce politics, or fiercer criticism on 
public and private character. ‘The community wants a re- 
laxation from the continual diseussion witch occupies it, 
and which renders us all mental gladiators, intent upon 
nothing but the attack or defence of opinions. We 
are for the march of mind; but we think it would 
march better to music. 


THE ISLAND OF MILO.—No. IU. 


Tie ruins of the ancient theatre on this island have 
escaped the notice even of the eorrect and minute 
Tournefort, and few modern travellers mention them, 
though they are not less considerable than many of the 
remains elsewhere, which have been so often and parti- 
cularly described, whilst the site they occupy is one 01 
almost matchless beauty. On the side of a conical hill, 
somewhat lower than the summit on which the town 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 17! 


stands, and a little to the nortn-west of it is a natural 
hollow of an elliptie form, and round this the ancients 
built their stone seats in ranges above each other, leaving 
these to be backed by the hill itself, and the whole open 
to the bright heavens above them. J*rom this lofty 
position, on the face of the rock, the view is enchant- 
ing. The blue waters of the Mediterranean, at a great 
depth below, roll at the feet of the spectator, and 
stretch fac away before him, dotted with numerous 
islands. Nothing intercepts the view. Whatever may 
have been the character of the representations and 
amusements that attracted the ancients to this spot, 
the exquisite spectacle of nature here presented, the 
purity of the air, the glorious brilliancy of the sun, and 
the transparency of the atmosphere, so seldom clouded 
in this happy clime, ought at once to have filled their 
souls with happiness, and raised them to the contem- 
plation of the Giver of all good. 

In the greater part of the hollow the seats have been 
broken down and removed by the natives to build their 
houses and stables; but one side of the theatre is 
still tolerably perfect. Scattered over the arena, half 
buried with earth or covered with weeds, were several 
curious pieces of wrought marble, some of which the 
peasants dug up and sold to a French man-ol-war 
while we were at Milo. The theatre, or rather amphi- 
theatre, must have been small. The annexed engrav- 
ing, from a sketch made on the spot, may convey some 
idea of what remains of it. The building on the top of 
the hill behind it is a ruinous, crumbling fort, erected 
in comparatively modern times. The island in the 
distaice, of which only a part is seen, 1s Argentiera, the 
Cimolus of the ancients, which, as well as Milo, was 
celebrated for producing chalk and a species of earth 
ti suited to the purposes of washing linen, 

eg." 

Another of our excursions was to old Milo, which, in 
the time of Tournefort, was the town of the island, and 
contained a population ef 5000 souls. When we visited 
it there were only three or four families of the poor 
islanders remaining on the spot—the houses, which 
had been nearly all two stories high, built with stone, 
in avery neat style of architecture, and which evidently 
dated from the period when the Venetians possessed 
this and other islands of the Archipelago, were ali in 
ruins ; and among these rent walls and roofless edifices, 
a temporary, scanty, and not very welcome colony had 
taken up its abode. This cclony or garrison consisted 
of about fifty Sphactiotes or Greek mountaineers from 
Candia, who had been engaged by the new government 
in the Morea (if we can apply the name of government 
to the anarchy that existed in Greece in 1627) to defend 
the Milotes in ease the Turks should make a descent 
on the island. Had such a descent been made, from 
the smallness of their numbers, the men from Candia 
could have afforded no protection—they would have 
taken to their boats and run away, leaving the islanders 
to be massacred, as had already happened in the bean- 
tiful island of Scio and elsewhere. ‘They were, in fact, 
just strong enough to oppress those they came to pro- 
tect. ‘They levied contributions, in their own way, on 
the defenceless, impoverished Milotes, and yet were 
never satisfied, but continually quarrelling and recur- 
ring to deeds of violence and insult. We had already read 
and heard much of the very bad character which both 
the Turks and Greeks of Candia bear throughout the 
Levant, and certainly what we here saw of the Greeks 
of that place was not calculated to prepossess us in their 
favour. As we arrived among them in the ruined town 
they were nearly all firing their rifles and pistols like 
madmen in the narrow street. One of our party had a 
very narrow escape from a rifle-ball. They were ex- 
ceedingly fine-limbed men, but in countenance they 


* This earth is still used by the natives of Milo instead of soap. 


1824, ] THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


were at once cunning and ferocious; their dress (some- 
thing like the Albanian) was very picturesque, and, in 
most iistances, fine and costly, but, almost without an 
exception, they were disgustingly dirty. Several of 
tem were suffering under the malaria fever, to which 
nearly all the low land of Milo is now exposed. 
Tournefort mentions, that in his time, this town, 
which is situated in the plain at the distance of about a 
mile and a half from the head of the port, was extremely 
unhealthy, on account of vapours arising from salt 
marshes and other stagnant waters in its vicinity, and 
from the scarcity of good wholesome water. He adds 
two other causes of insalubrity: 7. e., the exhalations 
arising from the sulphur and minerals which enter very 
lareely in the formation of the island, and: the dirty 
habits of the people who permitted all sorts of filth to 
accumulate in the streets. The first of these two causes 
has, we suspect, little to do with fevers; but no one 


can doubt the pernicious influence of the second of | 
them. ‘The unhealthiness of this spot induced the 


Mulotes to remove the town to the top of the island, 
Which, altowether, in 1827, did not contain a resident 
population of 500 souls. Other influences, besides 
these of malaria, must have contributed to this awful 
decline of prosperity, and these are to be found in the 
notoriously oppressive and every way vicious govern- 
ment of the Turks. When Tournefort was at Milo, he 
found extensive olive-groves, large tracts of the island 
well cultivated with corn, barley, sesame, and cotton,— 
the hills ronud the port were covered with vines; and 
melons, French beans, and a variety of cther vegetables 
were profusely grown.. When we visited the island, 
nearly all this had disappeared, and the diminished po- 
pulation, with fruitful lands around them, seemed gene- 
raliy to be suffering great poverty and privation. ‘The 
small quantity of cotton still cultivated was of that bril- 
hant white hue for which this product of Milo was cele- 
brated in ancient times. 

Tournefort also informs us, that the island, in his 
time, contained eighteen churches and thirteen monas- 
teries, of all of which he gives the names and situations. 
Now, there is only the little church or chapel on the 
hill side, where we witnessed a funeral, together with 
three others equally poor and mean. The caloyers’*, 
whose loss is searcely to be regretted, had entirely 
clisappeared. 

Between the old town in the plain and the head of 
the bay or port, there are natural warm baths, which 
we entered by crawling through some passages (formed 
partly by nature and partly by art) in the side of a rock. 
These passages lead into two subterranean chambers 
or caves of inconsiderable size, and in each of these a 
spring of warm water, exceedingly salt to the taste, 
wells out and fills a shallow basin. The heat of 
this water is much less than that of the hot spring 
in the subterranean passage called the Bath of Nero, 
at Baie in Italy, in which we had often seen an egg 
boiled in three minutes; whereas, into these springs at 
Milo we could put our hands without inconvenience. 
The warmth of the atmosphere of the caverns, however, 
was greater than that of a Turkish vapour bath, and 
made us perspire most profusely. Still nearer to the 
shores of the bay other hot mineral water is cast up 
through the sand in little streams, some of which are 
boiling hot. These springs do not seem to be confined 
to any particular spot, and eveu bubble up under the 
waters of the sea. We were somewhat surprised, two 
or three days after our arrival, whilst bathing, to come 
suddenly to a place where the temperature of the water 
of the bay was very materially changed, and, in swim- 
ming towards shore and getting into shallow water, 
we found the sand so hot in several places that we could 
not bear to touch it with our feet, The same thing, 


* Monks, 


191 


llowever, had before happened to us in several parts of 
the bay of Naples, near to the roots of Mount Vesuvius, 
and the other craters of that volcanic district, on the 
coast of Sicily, in the neighbourhood of Mount Etna, 
and among the Lipari Islands. 

The island of Milo is, indeed, wholly volcanic; and 
the fire that raised its plains above the sea, and pro- 
jected its lofty mountains, still burns in most places a 
very little below the level part. Sulphur of an excellent 


“quauty is produced all over the plains; and there are 


large beds of alum of various kinds, and all of the best 
quality, which were dug with great profit until the 
Turks loaded them with such heavy taxes and fees that 
the islanders shut up the mines and abandoned that 
branch of trade altogether. It is curious to observe, 
wien any trade has once been turned from its course, 
how difficult it is to bring it back into its old channels ; 
but the now organized government of Greece may in 
time derive benefits from these minerals, as also from 
the beds of iron ore which are extensive in several dis- 
tricts of the island. 

On the exterior coast of Milo, several springs of hot 
mineral-water ascend through the sands into the sea in 
much greater volume than those we observed in the 
bay. At one point, just on the edge of the shore, where 
these waters can be caught before they mix with the 
sea, they are taken medicinally by the islanders, who, at 
our time, seemed scarcely to have any other medicine, 
or, indeed, any other physician. 

One of our. excursions’ was to the lofty summit of 
Mount Saint Elias. Crossing the beautiful bay, nearly 
in a direct line from the anchorage-ground, we landed 
on a rough, solitary strip of beach, a little inland of 
which was a curious, small, but rather picturesque lake. 
The loneliness on this side of the bay was extreme. 
Near the lake there was one small cottare; but, except 
this, we saw no human habitation, nor did we meet 
with a human being in the whole course cof our walk. 
The sides of the mountain, as we ascended, were covered 
with thick brushwood, and, in many places, with trees 
of small growth,—with sweet-scented myrtle, and the 
most beautiful shrubs. Still higher up, they were 
broken into fine, bold crags, among which we were tcld 
that, as in those of Corsica, Sardinia, Candia, and one 
or two of the larger islands of the Archipelago,’ the 
moufion, or wild sheep, is still to be found. We, 
however, certainly saw nothing of the sort; and, on 
inquiring afterwards from some of the old inhabitants, 
we did not receive very satisfactory assurances that they 
had ever seen any. Animal life, indeed, of ail sorts, 
seemed as scarce as human life in Milo; for, save 
lizards and small snakes, some scanty colonies of crows, 
and a few asses and mules, we scarcely saw any living 
thing there. Our great reward, which, in truth, was 
the only one we counted upon, when, after a most 
fatiguing process of walking, crawling, and climbing, 
we reached the top of this mountain, was the view it 
afforded,—a view much more extensive than those from 
the present town and the ancient amphitheatre. Nearly 
évery inch of Milo, with its inferior mountains, its 
slopes and valleys, and magnificent port, lay spread at 
our feet like a map*; and, on the blue sea, some close 
to us and some spreading far away, we could see with 
peculiar distinctness the islands of Antimilo, Argentiera, 
Siphanto, Serpho, Policandro, and a score more of the 
** fuiry Cyclades,” which literally ‘* shine in the sea,” 
as Horace describes them. \ 

The Candiote garrison did not at aJl improve on 
longer acquaintance; and we never went to the old 
town without being disgusted by their filth, turbulence, 
aud insolence. But this was not all. Two nights 
before we sailed from the port, an open Turkish boat, 

* The entire circumference of Milo is calculated at about fifty 
miles, Its form is almost that of a circle, 


192 THE PENNY 
coming from and going to some place in the Archi- 
pelago still in possession of the Mussulmans, was driven, 
in consequence of contrary winds and currents, and the 
unskilfulness or carelessness of those on board, to the 
back of the island of Milo. When the Candiotes, who 
had sentinels at different points, learned this, they 
rushed to the spot, and, though the boat was small and 
contained only eight individuals, two of whom were 
women and three children, who all stated their circum- 
stances and pleaded for mercy, they savagely fired into 
her and killed one Turk and wounded another, and also 
a little boy. They then dragged them on shore, and 
announced their valorous triumph by firing off guns and 
pistols. It was near midnight, and we were smoking 
our cigars on. deck when we heard these discharges, 
which, for a moment, induced us to believe that a 
Turkish force had landed on the island. Our surprise 
and abhorrence were great on learning the next morn- 
ing what had really happened, and, moreover, that the 
Candiotes considered their Turkish prisoners as slaves, 
and were trying to sell them as such among the Greeks 
of Milo. In consequence of these proceedings, the 
officers of the Dutch sloop-of-war, which was by this 
time the only armed ship left in the bay, together with 
ourselves, had a long discussion with these savages, 
the Greek who kept the coffee-house, and who spoke 
both Italian and English, acting as our interpreter. We 
represented how people in the circumstances of those in 
the ‘Turkish boat were treated by all civilized nations ; 
but we could awaken in them no feeling of shame for 
what they had done; and when we spoke of the un- 
christian, abominable practice of making prisoners of 


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MAGAZINE. [May 17, 1884. 


war slaves, the only answer we could get was, that they 
did by the Turks as the Turks did by them. It was in 
vain we explained to them that it was in consequence of 
these and their other barbarous practices that the hearts 
of all Europe were set against the Turks, and that the 
great Christian powers would (as they did a few months 
after) interfere with a strong hand to prevent all 
such excesses. They still only answered that the Turks, 
when they took them, made slaves of them, and that 
they would make slaves of the Turks, and keep or sell 
their present prisoners as they chose. The Dutch cap- 
tain did not consider himself authorized to take more 
In the course of the day, however, 

the French vice-consul made the Candiotes deliver up 
the two Turks who were wounded, and whom he had 
carried to his own house. We subscribed together for 
the price demanded for one of the unfortunate women, 
and the keeper of the coffee-house bought the other for 
ten Spanish dollars, or about two pounds sterling. He 
said he would keep her until an opportunity occurred of 
imparting her and her companions’ situation to their 
friends, who would, in all probability, find means, 
through some English or French ship-of-war, to remit 
a ransom for them all. Whether this happened, or 
how the Candiotes treated their captives, we know 
not, for the next day, most heartily sick of these bar- 
barians, we left Milo, and never returned. It must be 
added, however, in justice to the poor native Greeks of 
the island, that they were a mild, inoffensive people, 

with a rood deal of natural talent, and of that natural 
er acefulness of manner and carriage which so remark- 
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{ Remains of the Amphitheatre at t Mio] 





o*_ The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 
‘LONDON -—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 





Printed by Wittram Qiowzs, Duke Street, Lambeth, 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. : 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[May 24, 1834. 





THE MALAY TAPIR. 


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[Indian Tapir. ] 


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‘Tue tapir was first known as an American animal ; and 
Buffon, in laying it down as a general rule that the 
animals of South America do not exist in the ‘* Old 
World,” pointed particularly to the tapir as a creature 
eminently peculiar to that continent. The contrary has 
of late years been proved; for not only have two fossil 
varieties been disinterred in France, Germany, and 
Italy, but the animal has actually been found existing 
in the peninsula, of Malacca, and in Sumatra. This 
variety is represented in our wood-cut, aid may be thus 
described :—The Malay tapir resembles in form the 
American, and has a similar flexible proboscis, which 
is six or eight inches in length. Its general’ appear- 
ance is heavy and massive, somewhat resembling the 
hog. ‘The eyes are small. The ears are roundish, and 
bordered with white. The skin is thick and firm, 
thinly covered with short hair. ‘The legs are short and 
stout; the fore feet are furnished with four toes, the 
hind feet with three. In the upper jaw there are seven 
molar teeth on each side, one small canine inserted 
exactly on the suture of the incisor bone, and in front 
six incisors, the two outer of which are elongated into 
tusks: in the under jaw there are but six molars; the 
canines are large, and the number of incisors, the outer 
of which are the smallest, is the same as in the upper 
jaw. 

Naturalists have been unable to detect any essential 

Vou, III. 


difference between the Indian and American tapir; 
but there is a marked difference in colour, and the 
appearance which the former presents is not a little 
singular. ‘The American tapir is of a dusky bay hue; 
but that of Malacca is strangely party-coloured. It is 
quite black on, the proboscis, head, neck, and as far as 
the extremity of the fore-quarters ; then its body be- 
comes suddenly of a light grey approaching to white, 
and so continues to about half-way across the hind- 
quarters, when the black hue, without any softening off 
or mingling of tints, again prevails. The legs are 
quite black. The animal, in fact, looks precisely as 
if it were all black, but covered and girded round the 
body with a white stable-cloth, which leaves uncovered 
the head, neck, shoulders, lees, and part of the hind- 
quarters, and tail: so sharply and, to appearance, so 
artificially does the white band cut the black. But 
although the hues they assume are not the same, a 
change of colour with increase of age is common to 
both the animals of the old and new world. ‘The 
American tapir, when young, is striped and spotted 
like a deer; the East Indian, at the same period of 
life, is beautifully spotted with brown and white. 

All travellers who have described the tapir, whether 
as it exists in South America, or in Malacca and Su- 
matra, agree in representing it as the most docile of 
creatures. Its perceptious are quick, and its affections 


aC 


194 


very strong. According to some well-authenticated 
anecdotes, it is possessed of all the attachment and 
fidelity to its master which render the dog so inte- 
resting an animal. : 

The following account of a very young tapir, which 
Major Farquhar had alive in his possession, forms part 
of a communication made by him to the Asiatic Society : 
— It appears that until the age of four months this 
species is black, and beautifully marked with spots and 
stripes of a fawn colour above and white below. After 
that period it begins to change colour, the spots dis- 
appear, and, at the age of six months, it becomes 
of the usual colour of the adult.” Major Farquhar says, 
that he. found this animal of a very mild and gentle 
disposition; that it became as tame and familiar as a 
dog; fed indiscriminately on all kinds of vegetables, 
and was very fond of attending at table to receive bread, 
cakes, or the like. 

“The living specimen,” Sir S. Raffles adds, “ sent 
from Bencoolen to Bengal, was young, and became 
very tractable. It was allowed to roam occasionally in 
the park at Barrackpore, and the man who had charge 
of it informed me that it frequently entered the ponds, 
and appeared to walk along the bottom under water, 
and not to make any attempt to swim. ‘The flesh is 
eaten by the natives of Sumatra.” 

A Suinatran tapir, procured about the same time with 
the preceding, and presented to the Asiatic Society by 
Mr. Siddons, the resident at Bencoolen, was also a most 
gentle animal, but of very lazy habits. He delighted 
in being rubbed and scratched, and this favour he 
solicited from the people about him by throwing him- 
self down on his side, and making sundry movements. 
It is distinctly stated of this animal that another of his 
great delights was to bathe, and also that he remained 
a considerable time under water. The amphibious 
nature of the Indian as well as the American tapir 
seems, therefore, to be well established, though it was 
not observed by Major Farquhar in his specimen ; 
perhaps owing to its ill health—for it very soon 
died. 

The following are the exact dimensions of two Malay 
tapirs: one a male, described by Major Farquhar ; the 
other a female, killed at Bencoolen. 





Male Female 
feet. inches. feet. inches. 
Iixtreme length from the nose to cn 6 102 of 


tail, measured along the back..:. 








Circumference ofplit bodye......... 6am OU 6 3 
Heiyht of the shoulder ...g......... om 2 oO 
HSC hate, . oe . etait 3. 4 3 9 


* 


The first intelligence of the existence of the tapir in 
Sumatra was given to the government of Fort Marl- 
borough, at Bencoolen, in 1772, by Mr. Whalfeldt, who 
was employed in inaking a survey of the coast. He 
considered it to be the hippopotamns, and described it 
by that name; but the drawing which accompanied 
the report identifies it with the tapir. After this, 
the animal was not noticed for a considerable time. 
But, in 1805, when Sir Stamford Raffles arrived at 
Penang, he was informed that, a short time before, in 
the government of Sir George Leith, the natives had 
caught an animal which was, in every respect, the 
model of an elephant, only of a diminutive size. Un- 
fortunately it was brought from Queda to Penang 
during the governor’s absence, and dying before his 
return, the servants threw its body into the sea. On a 
subsequent visit made by Sir Stamford Raffles to 
Malacca, he made particular inquiries as to the new 
animal, and from the answers he received he felt little 
doubt that it was not a miniature elephant,. but a tapir. 
Indeed, on showing the natives a drawing of the 
American tapir they seemed at once to recognise it. 


The result of later investigations was quite conclusive | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘conspicuous, 


{May 24, 


on this pomt; and, in 1818, there was in the menagerie 
at Calcutta a living tapir sent from Bencoolen, and 
Major Farquhar had, about the same time, sent to the 
Asiatic Society a stuffed specimen and. a head, with a 
paper descriptive of the animal, and giving an account 
of the discovery. From these an account of the animal, 
with a drawing, was prepared by M. Diard, and sent to 
his friends in Paris, where, in March, 1819, M. Fred. 
Cuvier published it in his great work on the ‘ Mammalia 
of the Menageries in Paris.’ In the museum of the 
Kast India Company there is’ an excellently preserved 
specimen of the Malayan tapir, received in England in 
{820 from Sir Stamford Raffles. Our wood-cut is 
from an original drawing of this specimen. 

As this animal has not been long discovered, we 
possess but little knowledge of its habits in the wild 
state. As, however, it is but fair to presume that its 
disposition and mode of life is similar to that of South 
America, it may be well to supply the deficiency by a 
short account of the species belonging to the New 
World. 

The American tapir has its habitat in South America, 
and is most abundant in Guiana, Brazil, and Paraguay. 
It is the largest native animal of the South American 
continent ; and, as well as the’variety we have already 
described, looks like a mixture or compound of various 
animals. To the eye, it appears as a link between the 
pig and the elephant ; its general form resembling the 
hog, and its upper lip being prolonged into a smal] 
moveable proboscis, shorter indeed in proportion, and 
applied to a different use, but still resembling the trunk 
of the elephant. In its habit, moreover, of taking 
readily to water and remaining under it, and walking 
about at the bottom of rivers and lakes, it approaches 
the hippopotamus. That very remarkable feature, the 
proboscis, is a prolongation of the snout, and can be 
retracted or extended at pleasure. it is much employed 
in breaking off the small twigs on which the animal 
usually feeds. It shuns the habitations of men, and 
leads a solitary life in the interior of the forests, in 
moist situations; but selects, for its abode, a spot 
somewhat dry and elevated. By travelling always in 
the same rounds, it forms beaten paths which are very 
It sleeps by day, and comes out in 
search of food in the night or early in the morning ; 
and sometimes rainy weather will attract it forth by day 
from its retreat. It usually resorts to the water-side or 
the marshes; and frequently takes to the water, in 
which it swims with facility. It is rather uncouth and 
heavy in its motions on land. Its ordinary pace is 
a sort of trot; but it sometimes gallops, though 
awkwardly, with the head low. In its wild state it 
feeds on fruits and the young branches of trees; but, 
when domesticated, eats almost any kind of fcod. 
Though possessed of great strength, the tapir em- 
ploys it only in self-defence, which it does vigorously 
against dog's, but is said to offer no resistance to man; 
and its disposition, whether in the wild or domestic 
state, is mild and timid. Lieut. Maw was informed, 
by the native Indians, that when the onga, a tiger of 
the country, attacks a tapir, he generally springs on its 
back. On this the tapir rushes into the thick woods, 
and endeavours to kill his assailant by dashing him 
against some large tree. The tapir produces but one 
young at a birth, of which it 1s very careful, leading it 
at an early age to the sea and instructing it to swim. 
‘The flesh is dry and, disagreeably tasted ;—the skin 
is tough and might be applied to useful purposes. °° 

Lieutenant Maw, R.N., in 1828 bought at Para in 
the Grazils a young tapir that was perfectly tame. 
This animal unfortunately died very shortly after 
its arrival at the gardens of the Zoological Society 
i1 Regent’s Park, to. which it was. presented: by 
Ineut. Maw. ‘This he believed to be the first living 


1684.) 


specimen ever brought to Europe. 
Society has since had its loss supplied by a full-grown 
tapir, which seems to thrive very well. From its 
curious formation and its gwentle inoffensive habits, it 
offers a great attraction to the visitors of these in- 
teresting wardens, 


SMUGGLING DOGS. 

THE recently published ‘ Report of the Commercial Relations 
between France and Great Britain’ contains some very curious 
statements on the subject of the fraudulent introduction of 
articles by means of dogs. Since the suppression of smug- 
cling by horses, in 1825, dogs have been employed. The 
first attempts at this extraordinary use of animal sagacity 
were made at Valenciennes; the system afterwards spread 
to Dunkirk and Charleville; and has since extended to 
Thionville and Strasburg; and last of all, in 1828, to Be- 
sancon. The dogs which are trained to these ‘“ dishonest 
habits ’ are conducted in packs to the foreign frontier, where 
they are kept without food for many hours; they are then 
beaten and laden, and at the beginning of the night started 
on their travels. They reach the abode of their masters, 
which are generally selected at two or three leagues from 
the frontiers, as speedily as they can, where they are sure 
to be well treated, and provided with a quantity of food. 
The dogs engaged are always, it is said, conducted in 
leashes of from cight to ten, and sometimes from twenty to 
thirty ; they do not go willingly, inasmuch as they antici- 
pate ill-usage and fatigue, and therefore they are forcibly 
conducted. It is said they do much mischief by the destruc- 
tion of agricultural property, inasmuch as they usually take 
the most direct course across the country. ‘Thcy are for the 
most part dogs of a large size; and the ‘ Report’ states, 
that, being so tormented with fatigue, hunger, and ill-usage, 
and hunted by the Custom House officers in all directions, 
they are exceedingly subject to madness, and frequently 
bite the officers, one of whom died in consequence in 1829, 

Tobacco and colonial products are generally the objects 
of this ilheit trade ;—sometimes cotton-twist and manu- 
factures. In the neighbourhood of Dunkirk, dogs have 
been taken with a burden of the value of 24/., 30/., and 
even 48/. Publications hostile to the government have not 
unfrequently been introduced in this manner. In 18338, it 
was estimated that 100,000 kilogrammes™ were thus in- 
troduced into France; in 1825, 187,315 kilogrammes; in 
1826, 2,100,000 kilogrammes; all these estimates being 
reported as under the mark. The calculation has been 
made at 24 kilogrammes as the burden of each dog; but 
they sometimes carry 10 kilogrammes, and sometimes even 
12. The above estimate supposes that one dog in ten, in 
ecertain districts, and, in others, one in twenty, was killed ; 
but these calculations must necessarily be vague. In the 
opinion of many of tle custom-officers, not more than one in 
seventy-five is destroyed, even when notice has been given 
and the dogs are expected. 

Among the measures proposed for the suppression of this 
mode of smuggling, a premium of three franes (half-a-crown) 
per head has been allowed for every frauding dog (“ chien 
Jraudeur”’) destroyed; but this, as.appears by the tables, 
has been wholly inefiicient, though the cost has not been 
inconsiderable, namely 440/. per annum before 1827, and 
600/. since that period, when the premium was allowed in 
the Thionville district, where: the trade is still carried on by 
the aid of dogs more extensively than clsewhere. It appears 
that 40,278 dogs have been destroyed between 1820 and 
1830, and premiums to the amount of 4833/, paid for 
their destruction. Many severe measures of police have 
been proposed; too severe, in fact, to be executed: the 
prefects have required individuals who conducted dogs in 
leashes to take out passports, as for foreign countries. The 
attempts, however, have been ineffectual, and the autho- 
rities have lent but feeble aid to the suppression of the 
abuse. There is a law making it penal to possess such 
dogs; but the difficulty of proof seems to render this law 
inoperative. There has been hitherto no impediment to the 
exportation of any but hunting dogs; but it is now proposed 
vither to lay a heavy tax on the exportation of dogs gene- 
rally from France, or to prohibit the exportation altogether. 
The former course is preferred; and five franes (about 4s.) 

is mentioned as a sum to be levied on all dogs exported from 
‘the smuggling frontier, and it is further proposed to prohibit 
al! suies of large dogs within six miles of the frontiers. 

* The kilogramme is equal to 2lbs. Sozs. 3dwts. 2grs., troy. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The Zoological | 


195 
CLOCKS.—No. II. 


Tue mechanism of a clock seems, at first sight, 
exceedingly complicated and mysterious, when, in fact, 
as far as is required for showing the 
time, nothing is more simple. Sup- 
pose a barrel or spindle (fig. 1.) 
turning freely between two pivots, 
like the roller of a jack-towel; if a 
string be wound round the roller, 
and a weight attached to the end of 
it, the roller will, of course, turn | 
round until the weight reaches the floor, or the string 
is all unwound. Nothing remains to be done but to 
find some means of preventing the roller from turning 
too rapidly, or too slowly, and to adapt to it some index 
to measure its revolutions, and the clock is complete. 
It is evident that when the roller has been made to 
turn with the required velocity, it will only be necessary 
to fix wpon it a hand (@) with a dial. If, for example, 
the roller turns round once in twelve hours, and the 
dial, on the face of which the hand turns, be divided 
into twelve parts, the hand will show, by traversing one 
division, that one hour is passed; smaller divisious will, 
of course, enable the hand to point out smaller portions 
of time. 

We now proceed to show how the roller may be made 
fo turn with the velocity required. 
If two wheels of the same size be 
placed in contact, as in Fig. 2, and 
one turned round, the other will of 
necessity also turn round, and with 
the same velocity but in a contrary 
direction: if one wheel be twice as 
large round as the other (as at 0) the 
smaller wheel will turn twice while the 
larger goes round only once; because 
half the circumference of one is equal to all the other, 
and each half will of necessity drag round the whole of 
the little wheel. If the wheels be made in any other 
proportion the effects will be similar, and the smaller 
will turn oftener than the larger, in proportion to its 
smallness. Now, although these effects will take place 
when both the wheels turn freely, the case is altered 
when the driving wheel, as in all clocks, has a tendency 
to turn with a much greater speed than is allowed to 
the driven wheel: if the roughness of the wheels in this 
instance should at first force the driving wheel to turn 
slowly, like the other, in time they will both become 
smooth, and the first wheel 
will slip round without turn- 
ing the other. ‘Yo remedy 
this, teeth are cut on the 
edges of the wheels, which 
lock in each other, so that 
one wheel cannot by possi- 
bility turn round without Rap, anni 
the other. (Fig. 3.) 

To apply this to our original roller 
(A, Fig. 4), we will suppose it de- = 
termined that it should @o ronnd once |’ 
in twelve hours. Let it be suspended 
between two metal plates, B B, C C, 
as in the figure, and let a wheel D, 
with seventy-two teeth, be fixed firmly 
to it, so that the roller cannot turn 
without the wheel. Now let another 
roller or spindle, E, be suspended in a 
similar manner, and at such a distance 
that a little wheel, I’, fixed to it, con- 4| Fy 
taining six teeth, may be in contact ys eee 
with the wheel D, fixed to A, and 3 
turn with it. As there are twelve 4 
sixes in seventy-two, the little wheel— 
which is technically called a pinion— B 





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196 


will turn round twelve times, while the large one 
revolves once, for every twelfth part of the large wheel 
will carry the pinion round once. The spindle E will 
consequently go round once an hour. Now let hands 
be fixed to the ends of these spindles, as was done in 
Fig. 1. The hand G, fixed on spindle A, will show the 
hour, and the hand H the minute, provided that the 
respective dials be divided into twelve hours and sixty 
minutes. ‘The same action, carried further, gives a 
hand which will go round in one minute ; but as there 
are sixty minutes in an hour, and it would be very in- 
convenient to have one wheel sixty times as large as 
another in the same clock, this part is effected by two 
steps. In the figure, the wheel I, containing sixty-four 
teeth, is fixed to the spindle E.; this wheel goes round 
as the hour hand does, once an hour, and in that hour 
it turns the pinion K, containing eight teeth, eight 
times round, or once in seven minutes and a half. ‘The 
pinion K is fixed to a spindle, L, which 
carries no hand, but to which is attached 
a wheel, M, of sixty teeth, moving a pinion, 
N, of eight teeth, fixed on a spindle, O, 
which carries a hand, P This last pinion 
woes round seven times and a half while 
the wheel M geoes once, and consequently 
carries the hand round in a minute. Here, 
then, is a complete clock, with three hands 
(Fig. 5), one showing the hour, another 
the minute, and another the second: very 
awkward, it must be admitted, as the hour 
hand goes in one direction, while the minute 
and second hands turn in the contrary. 
This defect is obviated by placing two 
wheels outside the brass plate B B (Fig. 6), techni- 
cally called the motion wheels, by 
which is also obtained the motion of 
the hour and minute hands upon the 
same centre. In this case no hand is 
fixed upon the barrel A (Fig. 4), but 
a small wheel, @, of eight teeth, is 
fixed upon the prolongation of E, out- 
side the metal plate. This wheel of 
course revolves every hour, and turns 
the wheel R, of thirty-two teeth, once 
in four hours: the wheel R turns upon 
a pivot, fixed in the metal plate, quite 
unconnected with the inside. A pinion 
of eight teeth, S, is fixed to the wheel 

B ~ R, and it turns a wheel, T, of twenty- 
four teeth, once in twelve hours. ‘This wheel, T, turns 
in the saine direction as the spindle E, for Q turns R 
in a direction contrary to itself, and S reverses this last 
motion by turning T. The piece U, with the hour 
hand G fixed to it, is put loosely upon the spindle, 
and afterwards the minute hand H is fixed tight to the 
spindle. 

These motion wheels render it unnecessary to preserve 
any exact proportion between the wheels D and F, 
because whether the barrel A turns once a day, or in 
any other time, it shows nothing on the dial; and, in 
‘act, all the number of teeth here given may be, and 
are often, changed, only care is taken to keep such a 
proportion that O shall turn sixty times while EX goes 
round once, and E twelve times while G turns once. 

There remains now nothing to be done but to regu- 
late the clock, that is, to fix to it some machinery by 
which the hand G may go round once in twelve hours, 
and H once an hour; for, as far as we have yet seen, 
the clock, as soon as wound up, would begin to run 
down with an increasing velocity, the wheels would 
whirl round with rapidity, and the weight would be on 
the ground in a short time. It is pretty evident that 
the value of a clock must chiefly depend upon the regu- 








mating mechanism; no nicety of movements can possi- | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE: 


(May 24, 


bly compensate for any defect here, while a clock of 
coarse workmanship may be kept in tolerable order by 
a good regulator. How this was effected in ancient 
clocks is not known ; probably some part was fitted up 
with a fly-wheel, which was prevented from turning too 
rapidly by the resistance of the air; or perhaps the 
moving power was water falling upon a little mill- 
wheel, which of course would not move faster than the: 
water which fell on it: in either case accuracy was out 
of the question, as the balance invented about the thir- 
teenth century was considered a great advancement. 
This was a bar of metal, A B (fig. 
7), suspended by a pivot, and fur- 
nished with weights at the extre- 
mities. A vibratory motion was 
communicated to the balance by 
some such apparatus as is shown 
in the figure. The toothed-wheel 
I, (attached to spindle O of fig. 4), 
in turning round, touched the pal- 
let G, fixed to the bar C D, which 
caused the end B of the balance 
to advance. The balance would now run round, unless 
stopped by some additional contrivance. This was the 
other pallet F’, also fixed to the bar C D, not in the 
sane line with G, but half round; so that when G 
touched the wheel, F was clear of it, and when F came 
in contact, G was quite detached. When the wheel 
moved the pallet G, as before stated, and the balance 
got half way round, the pallet F would come in con- 
tact with the opposite part of the circumference of the 
wheel and stop it suddenly. This caused a recoil, the bar 
returned to its first situation, and was again acted upon 
as at first. ‘The weights were moveable, and might be 
shifted nearer to or farther from the centre, as it might 
be desired to make the clock go faster or slower. The 
idea of this apparatus was good, and with some little 
alteration, and the addition of a spring to insure a 
more regular recoil, it forms the regulating’ principle 
of the common watch to the present day; but, con 

structed as it then was, the balance was very defective, 
and, except in those cases where portability was neces- 
sary, it was wholly superseded by the pendulum, as 
soon as the idea was conceived of adapting this valuable 
regulator to the wheels of a clock. The discovery of 
the isochronism* of the pendulum is due to the cele- 
brated Galileo, who, early in the seventeenth century, 
demonstrated that its vibrations were performed in equal 
times, when not urged beyond narrow limits. Sensible 
of the value of this equality, he made many of 
his astronomical observations by its aid, employing 
persons to count the number of vibrations made. So 
correct were the results of this method, that it was 
believed, and is still by some persons, that Galileo was 
the inventor of the pendulum clock, as it appeared 
hardly credible that such accuracy could be obtained 
without its assistance. It is, however, generally ad 

mitted that the pendulum was first actually adapted to 
the clock in 1657 by Huygens, who was no doubt 
aided by the experiments of Galileo, and who was 
aware of the difficulty and uncertainty of counting the 
vibrations of a pendulum for any great length of time, 





-as well as of the irregularity arising from setting it in 


motion by the hand when about to stop of itself. The 
mode of adapting the pendulum was at first similar to 
that employed in fixing the balance, but this caused 
large vibrations of the pendulum, and consequently 
demanded a greater power in setting it in action; be- 
sides, as we have already stated, small vibrations alone 
could secure perfect equality of beat. A very great 
number of methods are in use for effecting this purpose, 
technically called the escapement; one of the most 
common escapements is shown in fig. 8. The pendulum 


* From two Greek words (isos and seevon) meaning equal times, 


1834.] 


hanes from the point C, to 
which is fixed the steel an- 
chor, A C B, moveable with 
the pendulum, so that when 
the latter vibrates to the 
right, the pallet A strikes 
arainst the wheel D, and 
when to the left, the pallet 
B does the same. ‘The wheel 
is provided with teeth (30 in 
the figure), and being fixed 
to the spindle O (of fig. 4), it 
is intended to turn once ina 
minute. When the clock is 
at rest, the position 1s as in 
the figure; as soon as the 
weight is drawn up, the wheel 
begins to turn to the left, in 
the direction ot the arrow, 
and the tooth marked | pushes 
against the pallet A, as though 
endeavouring to make the 
pendulum vibrate to the Jeft; but as the pendulum 
is usually long and heavy, it will be necessary to help 
it with the hand at first setting off. As soon as the 
pendulum is so far out of the perpendicular as to 
allow the tooth 1 to pass the pallet A, the tooth 9 
strikes against the pallet B, which has been pushed 
forward by the first movement. ‘The pendulum now 
returns by its own weight, and rises to the right hand 
nearly as far as it went before to the left: by this 
movement the tooth 9 escapes the pallet B, and the 
tooth 2 strikes against the pallet A. This alternate 
striking and escaping (whence the name escapement) 
maintains a constant vibration of the pendulum, and 
the clock will go with accuracy. 

The very small force exerted by the wheel D would 
hardly seem adequate to keep in action a rod with a 
heavy weight attached to it; but it must be remembered 
that a well-suspended pendulum once set in motion will 
continue to beat for a very considerable time, and that 
each vibration differs from the preceding by a quantity 
imperceptible to the senses; consequently a very small 
force will suffice to make up that minute deficiency. 

The mechanism by which the striking the hours is 
effected is not more complex than that which we have 
explained ; but, being composed of parts not in con- 
tinuous mofion, and, when in action, performing sudden 
and seemingly irregular movements, its operation is not 
so readily seen. ‘This part of the subject will be re- 
sumed in another Number. 





WILD DOGS IN VAN DIEMEN'’S LAND. 


Tue late article on wolves in the ‘ Penny Magazine’ 
will have prepared our readers to be interested in a short 
statement of the annoyances to which their countrymen 
in Van Diemen’s Land are exposed from the ravages of 
wild does, the extent of which may be estimated from 
the strong alarm which is expressed, and from the 
following general statements which are taken from a 
speech delivered by Lieut. Hill to a meeting held last 
September at Campbell Town, in the interior, to consi- 
der of the best measures to be taken to remedy the evil. 
We should have been happy to have been distinctly 
informed concerning the origin of these animals; but 
from the satisfaction which is expressed at an existing 
tax on domestic dogs, and other incidental expressions, 
we infer that they are the progeny of the domestic 
animal, “littered in the bush,’ and allowed to run 
wild. They commonly associate in packs, like the wolf, 
and are so cunning, that the isolated attempts made to 
destroy them have been almost invariably baffled. It 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


197 


would seem that each pack appropriates a district to 
itself: Mr. Hill mentions that the same troop of sixteen 
wild dogs are constantly seen on his lands. ‘They are 
at present shy of man, but serious apprehensions are 
expressed that they will not long continue so ceremonious 
as at present; and a particular anxiety is felt about the 
children, for it is not doubted that the savage animals 
would carry them off if an opportunity offered. 

The districts infested by the wild dog's are more espe- 
cially appropriated to sheep-grazing, none of which 
have escaped, and a large tract of country is mentioned 
in which there was not a single flock that had not been 
terribly visited. In many quarters it had been neces- 
sary to double the number of shepherds, and to watch 
the flocks by night and by day, as well as to surround 
them with large fires. But none of these precautions 
have deterred the ravenous animals from making their 
attacks, to an extent of injury which threatens to bring 
complete ruin on all the sheep-owners in the island, 
and consequently to strip the colony of its most staple 
and valuable article of export—wool. One gentleman 
lost in three months no less than 1200 Jambs and sheep 
—another 700—another 300! Even in the immediate 
vicinity of Campbell Town, among other sufferers, one 
gentleman lost, in the course of a year, 500 lambs and 
sheep. He states, that aiter one night’s slaughter he 
sent out two drays, and brought them home loaded with 
the mangled carcasses: he declares that the increase by 
births will not replace those destroyed by the dogs, and 
that he seriously contemplates a timely withdrawing from 
pastoral concerns altogether. Another gentleman had 
also suffered so severely as to be obliged to remove his 
flock off his own land, on the Elizabeth River, to pre 
vent its total destruction. ‘The sensation produced by 
this state of things is stronely indicated by Mr. Hill’s 
concluding expressions, and the earnestness with which 
he inculcates the necessity of united exertion. ‘* The 
country,” he says, “is free from bush-rangers; we are 
no longer surrounded and threatened by the natives: 
they have been removed, the settlers placed in a state 
of security, and the change is found on trial to be pro- 
ductive of the greatest possible benefit to the natives 
themselves. We have, then, only one enemy left in the 
field, but this enemy strikes at the very root of our 
welfare, and through him the stream of our prosperity 
is tainted at its very source. Yet be not discouraged, 
for great although the evil be, it will be found nothing 
when brought in contact with the intelligence and 
energy of a whole country. Let us unite then heart 
and hand in endeavours to avert the impending danger, 
and, if we do unite, there is not the slightest reason to 
doubt but that our efforts will be crowned with success.” 

The resolutions agreed to at this meeting of the 
persons more immediately interested in putting a stop 
to this rapidly-increasing calamity were, chiefly, that 
a society should be formed for the attainment of this 
object ;—that funds should be raised by subscription to 
be applied in rewards for the destruction of wild dogs ; 
—that one pound should be offered for every wild dog, 
and two pounds for every wild bitch ;—-that the attention 
of the colonial government should be solicited to the 
subject ;—and that Mr. Hill should embody his ob- 
servations in a pamphlet to be printed for general 
distribution. 

In effect, there seems little difference between this 
calamity and that produced by wolves in this and other 
countries of Europe in former times. We have seen 
how slow the process was before the invention of fire- 


* We may here mention an incident which would have been 
better placed in the paper on wolves, if it had then met our notice. 
About the middle of the seventeenth century, the Duke of Orleans 
forbade the wolves on his domains to be destroyed, In consequence 
of which they increased so rapidly in the forest of Orleans, that 
they often came and took children out of the very streets of Blois, 


198 


arms,—how many centuries elapsed before their, ex- 


tirpation was effected in England. A point of con-— 


siderable interest in the history of civilization will now 


be to observe with what comparative facility and speed | 


the colonists—strong in the inventions of social life and 
the power of co-operation—will effect this object in a 
country so much more thinly peopled at present than 
this was at a very remote period. 





HOUSES IN TURKEY AND EGYPT. 


Tuer private dwellings in Turkey, and in Egypt, gene- 
rally present no external appearance of beauty or 
splendour, however great may be the wealth or exalted 
the rank of their occupants. Even at Constantinople, 
with the exception of the Seraglio (or palace of the 
Sultan), the summer palace on the Bosphorus, and two 
or three mansions occupied by sultanas or pricesses 
of the imperial family, there is scarccly a house at all 
striking from its extent, elevation, or architecture. By 
a precept of their religion all displays of this sort are 
confined to the mosques or temples, their hospitals, 
colleges, and other works of public utility. In the 
strict letter of the law, indeed, no dwwelline-houses 
whatever ought to exceed a certain low elevation, and 
all ought to be built entirely of wood. ‘The Koran also 
prescribes extreme simplicity, and the absence of carving, 
vilding, and every kind of ostcntatious ornament, in 
the interior of houses. But this and sundry other 
clauses of their sumptuary laws are commonly infringed 
by the wealthier Mohammedans. 

The outside of a house in Turkey and Egypt seldoin 
offers anything to the passing eye except dead walls, 
with here and there a gazebo (or window latticed in the 
fashion of female convents in Catholic countries), and, 
in the front of the house, a large folding-door with a 
shah-nishin, or balcony, completely covered with trellis- 
work, and rendered almost impervious to sight. ‘The 
houses are never numbered,—there are no name-platcs 
on the doors, no inscriptions or armorial bearings on 
the walls. These walls are generally built up to the 
height of the first story with stone or brick,—the rest 
of the construction, which seldom exceeds one story 
above the ground-floor, is made of wood. We are 
speaking here of the better kind of houses, for the 
common abodes are built almost entirely of lath and 
plaster and light timber. The use of such materials 
may account for the destructive fires so common in 
Turkey. These fires frequently owe their origin to thie 
discontents of the people, who have long adopted this 
irrational mode of showing their political feelings. 
Many of them, however, are accidental, and are easily 
to be understood, by remembering that the Turks use 
no fire-places as we do, but warm themselves in winter 
by placing shallow dishes of burning charcoal nnder a 
sort of table called a tandour, which is made of woed 
and covered by a stuffed cotton cloth or coverlet, and 
consequently, like the flooring, matting, and nearly all 
the materials of their apartments, very combustible. 
Now not only is this brasier or pan lable to be upset, 
but, through negligence, pieces of ignited charcoal, | 1 
used by the Turks (who, when within doors, are almost 
always smoking) to light their pipes, are often let fall 
npon the floor, and at times prove sufhcient to set fire 
to the house. But, whether arising from accident or 
design, these conflagrations are invariably dreadful, 
should a strong wind blow when they happen. Several 
times within the last half century nearly the whole of 
Constantinople, with the exception of the mosques and 
the few strong stone buildings, has been reduced to 
ashes. 

On entering within the gates of a Turkish or an 
Keyptian gentleman’s house, the scene certainly im- 
proves, and often, by its lichtness, airiness, and gaiety, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 24, 


the interior forms a striking contrast with the dull, 
sombre exterior. The architectural decorations, the 
articles of luxury and ornament that would offend the 
scruples of the people and the jealous eye of govern- 
ment, if exposed without, are often found collected and 
united with no unsparing hand wethin. 

An open court, often in spite of the law, paved with 
beautiful marble slabs, and always, when the weather 
is fine, partially covered with matting of pretty varie- 


| gated patterns, of which the best 1s meee in Syria and 
| Eeypt, shelving terraces, and parterres of flowers 


round parts of this court, and gaily painted alcoves, 
valleries, pillars, and the hanging’ roofs of the apart- 
ments, flanking the court in other parts, furnish very 
pleasing features to the picture; and if, as is very com- 
monly the case, a marble fountain shoots up its little 
columns, and the water plashes in a marble basin in 
the centre of the yard, and a few tall trees partially 
shade both the house and the open space, the locality 
is truly refreshing and delightful. In the country 
mansions of the rich Mussulmans, the enclosed court or 
square is often very large, and is adorned with a variety 
of small detached kiosks or summer-houses, flower-beds, 
shrubberies, and with several fountains of pure spark- 
ling water. But water, so essential to comfort in a 
warm climate, and indispensable to the observances of 
the Mohammedan religion, which prescribes frequent 
ablutions, is liberally supplied even in the houses of the 
poor, or is close at hand in most parts of Turkey. The 
civil code of the country contains meny curious laws on 
this head. It proclaims, as a sin against God and man, 
the refusing to supply one’s s neighbour with water, 
eves a liberal right of property in land to those who 
dig a well, discover a spring of water, or make either a 
subterrancan conduit or an aqueduct; and, at the same 
time, the religions code allots honours little short of 
saintship to such as prove benefactors to mankind in 
this sense. 

The ¢round-floor of gentlemen’s houses is generally 
given up entirely to the kitchen, offices, and the servants 
and dependants. A broad open staircase, built in- 
variably of wood, leads to the Diwan-khane, which is a 
broad corridor or saloon, open in front and commanding 
the’ court, and access to all the men’s rooms of the 
upper apartment. In most instances this corridor runs 
the length, and sometimes round three sides, of the house, 
though it is not always of the same level; but, in many 
cascs, rises or sinks, the communication alone the whole 
line or lines being kept up by means of stairs, which 
occasionally give a capricious but rather picturesque 
effect. At the angles and elevated points, this open 
corridor is generally ornamented with projecting kiosks, 
in which the domestics in immediate attendance, or 
persons waiting to have audience of the master of the 
mansion, lounge and smoke their pipes. ‘These kiosks 
are prettily painted ; the prevailing colours are biue, 
ereen, yellow and red ;—the designs are in the style we 
call arabesque. 





Their front panels, as well as parts 
of the interior walls of the house, are sometimes adorned 
with paintings of landscape, fruits, and flowers, but 
representations of the human form are very rarely 
tolerated. 

The upper or grand apartment is strictly divided 
into two, the line of demarcation between which is 
sacred. One of these divisions, called the Salemlik, is 
occup! ied by the master of the house, his sons, &e., and 
is open to all male servants and visiters ; the other, 
called the Harem, which word signifies a ‘ holy place,” 
is devoted to the women, and entrance into it is inter- 
dicted to ail men. In some of the large mansions 
there is a sort of neutral ground between the two :=— 
this is called Mabeinn (literally ‘* between two’’); but 
none save the father of the family enjoys access even here. 
Ihe rooms of reception in the Salemlik that open upen 


1834.) | THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 199 
the great corridor are frequently spacious, seldom very | ful. 
lofty, and always exceedingly plain and devoid of orna- 
ment, except in the ceiling, the sofas, and the carpets, 
or mats on the floor. ‘The walls are painted of a plain, 


light, uniform colour; over the door there is a framed 


Indeed, in many houses, it seems as if all art. and 
ornament were reserved to be lavished on the ceiling. 
It is formed of curiously tessellated wood-work, at times 
representing a mosaic in wood, dotted here and there 
with golden stars; at times painted in the arabesque 





inscription, in large black letters, or in letters of gold, 
taken from the Koran; the name of God or Mahomet 


in Arabie, and the tonghra or monogram of the reign- 
ing sultan, done in black, red, or gold letters, are some- 


times found in two or three places on the superfices of 


the walls. There is no tapestry, no fanciful paper ; 


and paintings and engravings never impart the beauty 


and interest we are accustomed to in England. A 
divan, or a continuous sofa, low and very broad, runs 
round three sides of the room, and this is the-only 
Stationary piece of furniture. ‘There are no chairs, no 
footstools, no detached ottomans, no tables, no book- 
cases, no looking-glasses ;—in short, there is not cone of 
those numerous articles of convenience, luxury, or orua- 
ment, that are met with in most respectable English 
houses, His broad easy sofa is almost everything to 
the in-door Turk; he sits on it, cross-leeged, during 
the day, smoking his chibouk, receiving his visiters, or 
despatching his business. If he has to write, he requires 
neither table, desk, nor portfolio: he merely places his 
sheet of paper on his knees, and so scrawls with his 
strong reed pen. Ile takes his coffee and sherbet on 
the sofa, and when he has to dine or sup, a pewter tray, 
supported on a small low stool, is brought into the room 
and set upon the floor; he then descends from the 
sofa, crosses his legs under him, sits down on the carpet 
or mat, and so despatches his meal, after which, stool, 


style with, green, blue, and gold, and in the most 
-vanied and complicated designs; and at other times 
| painted in stripes of white, red, yellow, blue, and ereen, 
-and ornamented with bouquets of flowers. 
‘mentioned only a few of the varieties. 
traveller who was detained by circumstances at Aleppo, 
occupied himself for several weeks in making a drawing 
of the ceiling of a fine room he occupied, and even 


We have 
An English 


after so much time, so elaborate were the ornaments, 
and so beautiful the colours and the gilding, that he 


left the work incomplete, and in despair of rivalling the 


hues of the original. The most beautiful and rich of 
the colours they employ has precisely the tint of the 
lapis-lazuli. 

It would be giving the Turks a chance of. having 
attributed to them a merit they do not possess, were we 
not to mention that these works of art, as well as the 
building of their houses, kiosks, &c., are almost invari- 
ably performed by Armenians, and. other Christian 
subjects of the Porte. 

The carpets on the floors of the rooms are of that 
good, strong kind so well known in England under the 
nae of “‘ Turkey carpets,’ and therefore require no 
description. ‘These carpets are chiefly manufactured 
in the country behind Smyrna, in Asia Minor, and at 
Salonica, and its neighbourhood in Europe. They still 
form an important article of export both to Euroye 


and the United States of America. Turks of very 
. Superior wealth or taste, however, generally use Persian 
, carpets, which are finer and much more beautiful both 


tray, and everything connected with them, are removed. 
At night he does not retire, as we do, to a separate bed- 
chamber, nor does he even make use of anything ex- 


clusively a bed; his servants or slaves shake up the 
cushions, lay down a coverlet or a pelisse or two, 
and the sofa becomes his bed. ‘These sofias,.we must 
mention, are frequently covered with fine woollen cloth, 
and tastefully fringed. ‘The favourite colour for this 
cloth is blue: carpeting is sometimes substituted for 
cloth. Above the sofa, and within reach of a person 
sitting cross-legged upon it, there is here and there 
a little shelf to hold such things as may be most 
frequently needed. A great Turk, however, rarely 
gives himself the trouble of raising his arm, but when 


he wants anything he summons a slave, not by ringing 


a bell, but by clapping the palms of his hands together. | 


To enjoy the advantages of air and shade, all the 
windows, which reach from the roof nearly to the level 
of the sofa, are furnished with broad wooden blinds, 
painted green, and which can be wholly or partially 
closed, ‘Lhe curtaims to the windows, when they have 
any, (which is not often the case,) are of very common 
printed cotton. ‘The apartments are almost invariably 
well ventilated, and, in this respect, the architects of 
more than one Christian country might advantageously 


study the plans of Mohammedan houses. In Constanti- | 


nople, where the cold is frequently severe during two or 
three of the winter months, the windows of the. good 


houses are furnished with glass of rather a common } 


quality, and chiefly procured from Trieste; but in 
many parts of Asia Minor and Eeypt, where, from the 
uniform mildness of the climate, such a protection is 
not required, a pane of glass is rarely seen. At the 
great town of Magnesia, at the foot of Mount Sipylus, 
the ‘Turks once carried on a good manufacture of stained 
plass, with which they ornamented their houses and 
kiosks, but they have long lost this, ike so many other 
branches of industry and art in which they, at one time, 
uudeniably excelled. 

Lhe ceilings of the rooms, which we have mentioned 
as among the most ornamental portions of a Mussul- 
mau apartinent, are frequéntly exceedingly beauti- 


-~6dwelline 


in colour and pattern. The Syrian or Kgyptian mat- 
ting, used at cther times, is of a much finer quality than 
that we have mentioned as being laid down in the 
court. It is delicately worked, light and cool to the 
eye, and far superior to anything of the sort we possess. 
When carpets, are used they do not often cover the 
whole of the room, but are merely ranged in slips near 
to the sofa; in this case the wooden floor, which in 
general is neatly put together in the parquet fashion, is 
kept clean and polished. ‘The matting, on the contrary, 
almost always covers the entire floor: it is bound at the 
edges with coloured cloth or gilt leather. 

Though there are many pleasing features in the 
interior, the open court and the part of the house very 
faithfully represented in our engraving, will always be 
the most striking and agreeable to the European tra- 
veller. By attentively examining the engraving, our 
readers will obtain a good notion of the domestic 
architecture of the Mussulmans. . 

It is worthy of remark that, thronghout the dominions 


of the sultan, the Christian and other rayah subjects 


can neither build their houses so high as the Moham- 
medans nor paint them of the same colour externally. 
The elevation of an Armenian, a Greek, or a Jewish 

o, as compared with that of. a ‘Turk, must be 
only as ten to twelve, and it must be painted on the 
outside with black, or some very sombre colour. ‘the 
Turks may indulge in gayer hues, but even they cannot 
build a house beyond a certain height without incurring 
heavy fines. All these and numerous other particulars 
that are constantly interfering with individual liberty 
aud taste are strictly defined by laws, and the Muimar- 
Agha, or intendant of buildings (a very lucrative 
post), to whom the execution of these laws is contided 
at Constantinople, is always looked upou as the most 
meddling, insupportable tyrant of the place. He 
exercises an absolute authority over all the architects 
and builders of the capital and its suburbs, whether 
in kurope or ijn Asia. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE [May 24, 1834 


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-#.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59 Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 








Printed by Witnr4m Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth 


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[San Marino. } a. . is 


Tuts little republic is the only one left of the many 
republics into which Italy was once divided, and is the 
smallest independent state of Europe. A rude, crags 

mountain, about eleven English miles to the south of. 
Rimini, anil a few hillocks scattered around the moun- 
tain’s base, comprise the whole of this republican terri- 
tory, which is nowhere six miles across. 


stands, its rugged outline, dotted here and there by a 
church, a convent, or a tower, formed, for a long time, 
the most striking feature in the landscape. I entered the 
dominions of the old republic by crossing a small stream, 
and, after three miles of ascent, in some parts very 
steep, and in others running zig-zag along the face of 
the mountain, I reached the ™ Borgo,” which is a small 
town containing about 600 inhabitants. ‘About three- 
quarters of a mile farther on, and much higher,-f-came 
to ** La Citta,” or the City, which is the seat of govern- 

ment, and the residence of the more distinguished 
members of this miniature commonwealth. It does 
not seem much larger than the Borgo, but it is cleaner 
and handsomer, and ‘has some buildings of a consider- 


able size and in a pretty good style of architecture. 
VoL. IIl, 


ame entire 
population does not much exceed 7000 souls. In the 


course of my walk, the bold rock on which San Marino | 


? 


There is not a single shop or inn, as nothing is allowed 
to be sold in the city. 

The view from this spot, which is more than 2000 
feet above the level of the sea, is particularly fine, and 
one of the best points whence to enjoy.it is the top or 
the prison. - The pleasant town of Rimini, the Marec- 
chia, and the dark Adriatic Sea, lay before me; and 
turning to’ the west were the piled-up Apennines, con- 
spicuous among which, from the sugar-loaf form of the 
mountain it stands upon, was the celebrated fortress of 
San Leo. Descending from the prison-top, I visited 
some horrid dungeons, many feet underground, and 
quite dark. ‘These conveyed a disagreeable i impression 
as to the character of the old republicans, but it was 
pleasant to learn, and honourable to their descendants, 
that these dungeons had not been used for many years, 
and that there was actually only one prisoner in the place, 
whose offence was rather venial, and his treatment 
exceedingly mild. ‘I found, however, that the inhabi- 
tants still piqued themselves, as in the days of Addison, 
on their love of justice, and their impartial and rigid 
administration of it. One of the cittadin: told me the 
following story in point:—A Venetian, to whom a 

subject of the hill republic owed a sum e ena the 


202 


payment of which had been demanded many times in. 


vain, was at length induced, at the recommendation of 
a friend, to apply to one of the capitanei, or presidents 
at San Marino. On arriving at the town, he was soon 
conducted to this dignitary of the state, whom he 
found with naked lees dancing in a huge tub, treading 
out grapes for wine. The Venetian, accustomed to the 
dignity, ‘* the pomp and circumstance,” of his own city 
and eovernment, turned with astonishment from such a 
dispenser of right and might, and began to repent him 
of his journey. As he had come, however, he told his 
story, and no sooner was it ended than the capitaneo 
despatched an assistant to summon the debtor to his 
presence. ‘The man came forthwith; and, on being in- 
terrowated, confessed he duly owed the money, but said 
he could not pay it. ‘The indignant capitaneo instantly 
ordered him to prison, and decreed that his house 
should be sold to meet the demand. This summary 
sentence very soon produced the amount of the debt 
from the San Marino man, who, it appears, was not so 
poor as he had pleaded he was, and the Venetian creditor 
returned home wel! satisfied. Some time after, having 
occasion to sue another debtor in the courts of Venice, 
and having experienced “ the law’s delay ” and its glo- 
rious uncertainty, he exclaimed (at least so say the 
citizens of the hill) *‘ Val piu un pistad’uya di San 
Marino che diezi Parruconi di Venezia!”"—A grape- 
treader of San Marino is worth more than ten big-wigs 
of Venice. 

The constitution of the republic is rather -aristo- 
cratical than otherwise. Although an approach to 
universal suffrage is nominally admitted, and although 
it is prescribed in their original charters that the sove- 
reion power is lodged wholly and solely in the Arengo, 
or ereat council, in which every family shall be repre- 
sented by one of its members, all authority has gradu- 
ally fallen into the council, called ** of Sixty,” but 
which in reality consists of only forty citizens. Again, 
half of the Council of Sixty were, by law, to be elected 
out of the plebeian order, and the other half, and no 
more, chosen from among the nobility. Now, however, 
the council is wholly composed of the richesé citizens, 
whose relative antiquity of descent or aristocracy of 
blood I could not ascertain. 

The Arengo, or popular body, has sometimes been 
called together of late years ra cases of extraordinary 
emergency. ‘This is done merely by the ringing of a 
creat bell, whose tones can very well be heard all over 
the republic. An old law enacts that every member 
who does not attend the summons be fined a sum about 
equal to an English penny, and that this fine be paid 
‘* sine aliqué diminutione aut gratia.” 

The miscalled Council of Sixty nominate ten of their 
members, out of whom two are chosen by lot, and 
named Capitanei Regeenti. One of these capitanei 
has jurisdiction over the city, and the other over the 
country. Their power only lasts six months, and they 
cannot be re-elected to these supreme posts until after 
an interval of three years. ‘The elections take place in 
March and in September, but the capitanei only take 
possession of their office in April or in October. Joined 
with them there is a commissary, who, according to the 
old constitution, ovghé to judge all civil and criminal 
matters ; and also (to avoid the partialities or prejudices 
likely to influence the subjects of so small a state, where 
every man knows every body, and has numerous family 
ties and connexions) he ought to he a foreigner—the 
native of some other Italian state—a Doctor of Laws, 
and a man of well-established integrity of character. 
This officer 1s chosen for three years, and maintained 
at the public expense. ‘The capitanei, and the Coiincii 
of Sixty—of which no one can be a member until he 
is twenty-five years old, and where no two individuals 
of the same family can sit at the same time—appoint, 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[May 3], 


between them, to the few offices of this poor and simple 
state. ‘The most important of these offices, after that of 
the commissary, are the physician’s and the school- 
master’s. ‘The physician, according to the letter of the 
constitution, ought also to be a foreigner. He must, 
moreover, keep a horse wherewith to visit speedily any 
patient in the country, and his election is only for three 
years. 

At the time of Addison’s visit * the schoolmaster 
must have performed his duty conscientiously, as that 
elegant writer says, that he “ scarcely met with any 
in the place that had not a tincture of learning ;” and, 
in my time, from what I could observe during a short 
visit, reading and writing seemed common acquirements 
enough. Addison also had an opportunity of looking 
over their collection of laws, which were written in 
Latin, and had been printed at Rimini, by order of the 
Commonwealth of San Marino, in a folio volume. The 
book was entitled ‘ Statuta Illustrissime Reipublice 
Sancti Marini.’ In the chapter on public ministers, 
&c., there is a Jaw, mentioned by Addison, which pro- 
vides that whenever an ambassador is despatched by 
the Republic to any foreign state, he shall be allowed, 
out of the treasury, to the value of about one shilling 
per day during his mission! I could not help observing 
even during the short stay I made, that, like some other 
republicans and citizens of small states, the people ot 
san Marino were exceedingly susceptible and punc- 
tilious as to any criticisms made by their neighbours on 
their laws and customs, or on the dignity of their state. 
An anecdote is current illustrative of this feeling. About 
the end of the last century a citizen of San Marino 
heard an inhabitant of Rimini assert that the Republic 
was nothing more than a place of refuge for thieves, 
bankrupt traders, and vagabonds. ‘The words of this 
sweeping accusation were reported to the ‘* Council of 
Sixty,” who immediately passed a law excluding for 
ever from the territories of the Republic not only the 
offender but all his relations, and every person, whether 
related or not, who bore the same name. ‘Thirty years 
after this, on a dreadfully stormy night, a man and 
woman who had lost their way demanded and readily 
obtained shelter in the house of a peasant at Serravalle, 
a hamlet just within the line of the republican territory. 
In the course of conversation, the stranger addressed 
the woman who had arrived with him by her name, 
** Signora Bava;”’—now Bava was the name of the 
Riminese calumniator. As soon as the unlucky word 
was uttered, the peasant started up, exclaiming ‘ Via da 
casa mia ognuno col nome di Bava !”—Away from my 
house every one who bears the name of Bava !—and, in 
spite of entreaties, and notwithstanding the peltine of 
the storm, the unfortunate woman was turned out of 
doors. 

The origin of this poor little republic, which has sur- 
vived so many mighty ones that have fallen around her, 
and still looks with freedom from her rocky seat over 
her prostrate and enslaved neighbour, Venice, is exceed- 
ingly curious and interesting. ‘Towards the end of the 
third century of the Christian Era, Rimini,—then 
called by its Latin name, Ariminum,—havine com- 
pletely fallen to ruins, the reigning Roman Emperor, 
Diocletian, undertook to restore the city, which is ad- 
vantageously situated on the shores of the Adriatic 
Sea. ‘lo this end, he invited from the opposite coast 
of the Adriatic, which was his native place+, a number 
of artists and workmen; and, in the wards of an old 
local historian, “ venne ad Ariminum un eran numero 


* Addison was in Italy in 1699, 1700, and 1701. His book of 
travels in that country, which was one of his early literary under- 
takings, may stil be refened to with some advantage, though it 
describes very different policy, manners, and customs, from those 
which now obtain. 

7; Dacclecian was born in Dalmatia of an obscure family. 


1834,] 


di architetti, scalpellini, 0, diclamo taglia-pietri, e mu- 
ratoril, € conessi un infinitd d’, operai schiavoni *.”— 


There came to Ariminum a great number of architects, | 


chisel-men, or, let us say, stone-cuiters, and bricklayers, 


Among these Sclavonian masons anid builders, there was 


one Marino, a man of a good cliaracter, who soon dis- | 


tinguished himself as a fervent friend of the Christian 
church as then established in Italy. After Diocletian 
had been the benefactor of Rimini, which, under the 
hands of Marino and his companions, soon rose from 
its ruins, that emperor became the scourge of all Italy, 


by instituting an abominable religious persecution. In| 


ecclesiastical history this is called ‘‘ ‘The tenth persecu- 
tion of the Christian church.” It was commenced by 


Diocletian, A.p. 303, and proved one of the most san-_ 


guinary of the attempts made to conqtier men’s con- 
science and belief by force. In Rimini alone, according 
to the old historian from whom I have already quoted, 
‘“‘ rivers of Catholic blood flowed, not to earth, but to 
heaven!” Driven to desperation, the Catholic popu- 
lation at last rose against the emperor’s pro-consul and 
their other rulers. A serious conflict, in which Marino 


took part with the Bishop of fF orh, Forlimpopoli, | 
| partisanship of the most violent, for the regulation was 
After | 
this Marino withdrew to the rugged, but safe recesses | 


and other churchmen, ensued, and seems to have ter- 
minated disadvantageously for the persecutors. 


of Monte Titano, as the mountain which is now the 
territory of the republic was then called. 


aud the rigid penances to which, in accordance with 
the notions of that early age, he subjected himself, soon 


obtained for him the reputation of sanctity, and at-| 


tracted numbers to the place of his retreat. Many of 
his countrymen, who hactcome with him from Dalmatia 


to: Rimini, had brought their wives and children with | 


them, and it seems probable that these formed the 
original nucleus of the little independent state. At the 
same time, however, persecution and war would drive 
some of the native Italians of the plain to the safety of 
that mountain. 

A few years after his first retreat, when something like 


peace was restored to the church, Marino descended ! 
|no political refugees, there were several debtors and 


from his rock, and attended an ecclesiastical concilia- 
bulum held at Rimini. By this time the stone-mason 
was a dignitary of the Catholic hierarchy, for’ he was 
styled Diaconus, or-Deacon. When he died, full of 
years and holiness, his ashes were buried on the moun- 
tain-top, and miracles were said to be wrought at his 
tomb. In later years he was canonized by the Pope, 
and the name of Monte Titano was changed into his 
name—San Marino. The sanctity thus attached to the 
spot, and the feelings of religion, have perhaps contri- 
buted as much in certain ages to the preservation of the 


republic from the hostile attack of its neighbours as its | 


smallness, poverty, and inoffensiveness. 

When all the free states of Italy, except Genoa and 
Venice, by their mad internal dissensions, and constant 
wars with their neighbours, committed political suicide 
upon themselves, and, one by one, resigned their lber- 
ties to the will of arbitrary princes, San Marino was too 
mean and poor to tempt either of these little despots to 
take forcible possession of it. The territory of the 
republic, which had been increased by purchases from 
a neighbouring state in the twelfth century, and by 
donations from one of the popes} in the fourteenth 
century, was, however, in process of time, curtailed and 
reduced to its original and present limits. More than 
a century after the time when Clementini wrote, it was 
again deprived of its liberties. In 1739, Cardinal 

* Clementini, ‘ Raccolto Istorico della Fondazione di Rimini, 
&c.. &e., 2 vols., 4to. Rimini, 1617. 

These donations were made as a reward for military services 


rendered by San Marino to the court of Rome during a contest with 
the Malatestas—the Lords of Rimini. 


In that soli- | 
tude he gave himself more and more up to devotion; | 


-abundant and fine. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 203 


Alberoni subjected it to the pope; but this second servi- 
tude, like the first, to the Counts of Carpegno and to 
Rimini, lasted only “ for a short space of time,” after 


| which its independence and all its privileges were re- 
and with them an infinitude of Sclavonian workmen. | 


stored. 

When Bonaparte with the army of the French re- 
public appeared as the conqueror of Italy, (or, rather, 
of the Austrians in Italy,) in the neighbourhood of San 
Marino, he sent a congratulatory deputation to the 
sister republic, which expressed the reverence felt by 
her young sister, France, for so ancient and free a com- 
monwealth; and offered the state four pieces of artillery 
and an increase of territory. This was on the 11th of 
February, 1797. The cannon were gratefully accepted, 
but the other tempting offer was wisely declined. 

At the end of the last, and at the beginning of the 
present, century, when political malcontents were nu- 
merous and rigidly pursued by hostile governments, San 
Marino was often the asylum of men of opposite parties 
at the same time; and the government only preserved 
peace by strictly prohibiting all political discussion 
amone the refugees. The fear of incurring expulsion 
from the territory, and consequent seizure by their 
enemies, seems to have been sufficient to restrain the 


strictly observed. Among the most distinguished of 
these guests was the Chevalier Delfico, a subject of the 
king of Naples, and an author of some eminence. He 
lived many years on the mountain, acquired the rights 
of citizenship, and ever afterwards styled himself in the 
title-pages of the books he published and in other 


| documents—Delfico, Cittadino di San Marino. Iknew 


this accomplished man in his old age, when he was no 
longer proscribed, and have heard him speak with 
grateful recollections of the hospitality and kindness he 
enjoyed, and of the honest, quiet habits of the poor and 
simple republicans. Still farther to show his gratitude, 
he had written a ‘ History of San Marino,’ a curious 
and clever book, which I have in vain endeavoured to 
obtain a sight of in England. ‘The edition I was 


| acquainted with im Italy was in quarto, aud published 


at Venice. 
At the time of my visit (in 1519), though there were 


petty offenders from the neighbouring states that had 
taken refuge at San Marino. All the citizens capable 
of bearing arms were regularly drilled and trained. 
The territory of the republic, rugged as it is, yields a 
quantity of good wine and fruit, and the pasturage is 
‘Phere are no springs or fountains 
on the mountain, but rain and snow-water are plenti- 
fully preserved in cisterns and tanks cut in the rock. 
The wine-cellars, similarly excavated, are deliciously 
cool and excellent. ‘The wines of the hill are particu- 
larly lauded by an old historian of the republic, who 
says,—‘‘ I vini sono cost amabili, purificati, eratiosi e 
buoni che non hanno da invidiare i claretti di Francia.” 
(The wines are so mild, pure, agreeable, and good, that 
they have no need to envy the clarets of France *.) 
The largest of the churches, which contains his ashes, 
is dedicated to San Marino, but has nothing remarkable 
about it except a statue of the saint over the high 
altar, which holds in its hand the figure of a mountain 
crowned with three towers. ‘The mountain and the 
towers are the appropriate arms of the commonwealth. 
As I stood by the tomb of the worthy Sclavonian 
mason, I could not but reflect that, although it has 
not been destined to obtain such a ‘* high and palny 
state,” his was a more honontable foundation of oh 
republic than that laid by Romulus and his licentious, 
freebooting associates, 


* ¢ Dell’ Origine et Governo della Republica di San Marino, 
di Matteo Valli, Secretario e Cittadino di essa Repubhica” Padova, 


2D2 


‘MDCXXATITI, : 





TT i! 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 
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Tur tree which produces the manna (Fraxinus ornus) 
is an ash of a peculiar quality, and is regarded by 
Linneus as a variety of the common ash. 
digenous in the south of Italy and in Sicily; and the 
following account of it, as well as of the processes by 
which the manna is obtained, is taken chiefly from the 
“ Voyage Pittoresque des Isles de Sicile, de Malte, et de 
Par Jean Houel, Peintre du Roi, en 1776.’ 
The tree rarely attains a greater height than twenty- 
five feet, and there is nothing particularly striking in 
its appearance: it might, on the first view, be taken 


Lipari. 


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for a young elm; but, on more minute examination, its 
particular character is found in the manner in which 
the leaf is attached to the branch. Three species, or, 
more properly, three varieties of this tree have been 
observed. ‘The first has the leaves long and straight, 
like those of the peach; in the second, the leaves 
strongly resemble those of the rose-tree; and the third 
seems intermediate between these two varieties. 

It is when the season is at the warmest that the tree 
most abounds in sap. Therefore, about the 15th of 
August the people begin to make their incisions in the 


1834.] 


bark. They commence at the foot, making an incision 
each day, over the preceding, and at the distance of two 
inches from it, until they reach the lower branches. 
The incisions are little more than two inches in hori- 
zontal length, and are about half an inch in. depth. 
When the season is favourable, they continue to make 
their incisions so far as the great branches ;' but though 
they make no more than one daily, they have, towards 
the end of September, already made forty-five, which, 
at two inches distance between them, gives an elevation 
of ninety inches; and as there are few trunks which are 
more than seven and a half feet high, they rarely go to 
a greater distance. 

When the knife has with. some difficulty made an 
incision in the tree, the manna begins immediately to 
flow. It at first is no more than a limpid water; but it 
gradually congeals as it flows, and is soon hardened to 
a consistence. ‘The rainy season, which comes on at 
the end of September, interrupts this work. .The heat 
is then not sufficient to dry the juice, and the rain 
soon detains it at the foot of the tree, so that it is 
necessary that the operations should conclude with the 
warm weather of September. 

Having given this general statement, we may pro- 
ceed to describe more particularly the process which is 
followed in collecting the manna. When an incision is 
made in the manna-tree, a leaf of the same is inserted, 
by the extremity, in a slight horizontal cut below the 
incision. ‘The juice which exudes from the tree flows 
upon this leaf which, like a pent-house, conducts it toa 
vessel placed below. ‘This vessel is very simple, being 
merely a leaf of the Indian fig-tree, which, in drying, 
takes the form. of a basket, or rather a shell. It is 
from ten to twelve inches long, and seven or eight in 
breadth, and forms a sort of vase, sufficiently capacious 
for the use to which it is applied. Placed at the foot of 
the tree, it receives the juice, which does not harden 
until it has remained there some time. The manna 
thus received and congealed is much more esteemed 
than that which escapes down the bark of the tree, 
which is less pure and less fit for use. This latter 
comes in great quantity when the operation of nature 
is in its full force. It takes the form of icicles or of 
knotty reeds attached to the tree, full of inequalities 
and large in proportion to the abundance of the juice. 
Being sweeter than the purer sort, it is much more 
in requisition, and is especially preferred by the 
English. ‘The two sorts, however, are most usually 
mixed. | 

M. Houel states, that he often tasted the manna as 
it flowed from the incisions. It then had a bitter taste, 
like that of some unripe fruits. This bitterness is owing 
to the watery matter, the evaporation of which concen- 
trates the sugary parts and leaves them more sensible 
to the taste. ‘The manna is then sweeter and more 
agreeable, but is at all times slightly nauseous. 

Men and women are indifferently employed in col- 
lecting the manna. ‘The same knife which makes the 
incision serves also to gather the manna,—such as that 
which lies on the ground near the female, and those 
which the man and his wife in our wood-cut hold in 
their right hands; while in their left they have the boxes 
into which the manna scraped from the tree is received. 
The tree, near which the woman kneels, is exhibited as 
** sweet bleeding in the bitter wound” near the base. 
The collected manna is deposited in baskets and carried 
away to the magazine where they dispose of it, and 
whence it is sent away in great quantities to foreign 
countries, 

If the season is not favourable—if the heat is not 
steady and without rain—the people complain greatly ; 
and if there appears the least disorder in the atmosphere, 
the saints and the madonnas are assailed with cries and 


tears from all parts, prayers are addressed to them, and 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


2095 


wax tapers are offered at their shrines, for the grant or 
continuance of fair weather. . : 

The manna formed a principal source of emolument 
to the parts of Sicily in which it was cultivated in the 
time of M: Houel.; and’ the inhabitants were distin 
guished from those of other parts of that country by 
their comfortable and pleasing appearance. The medi- 
cal properties of manna are those of a gentle purgative, 
particularly adapted to the use of children, and it was 
accordingly much employed formerly in medical prac- 
tice. But it has now gone nearly into disuse, as we 
are in possession of so many substances that are more 
efficacious. ‘This circumstance: has probably had con- 
siderable effect on the prosperity of the places which 
were formerly enriched by the culture of the manna- 
tree. The drug was some time since subjected to che- 
mical analysis by M. Bouillon la Grange, who found it 
to consist of two distinct substances, one nearly resem- 
bling sugar, and the other probably analogous to gum 
or mucilage, as, when treated with nitric acid, it was 
found to yield the mucous acid. 

We may be at liberty to doubt the following pretty 
story concerning manna, even though we find it in 
Jeremy Taylor. .‘‘ When the kings of Naples enclosed 
the gardens of Ginotria, where the best manna of Cala- 
bria descends, that no man might gather it without 
paying tribute, the manna ceased till the tribute was 
taken off, and then it came again; and so, when after 


‘the third trial the princes found they could not make 


their gain of that which God made to be common, they 
left it as free as God gave it.” 


OF THE WESTERN GHAUTS 
OF INDIA. | 


WE are indebted to that very valuable institution the 
Asiatic Society for the account we now present to our 
readers of the dog in its natural wild state. That af- 
fectionate animal has been so long, so constantly, and, 
in almost every part of the world, the faithful companion 
of man, that we have almost lost all sight of him in his 
free, savage condition. : 

The very limited accounts of the wild dog and its 

varieties to be met within Shaw’s ‘ Zoology,’ in Blumen- 
bach’s ‘ Manual,’ in Cuvier’s ‘ Regne Animal,’ and other 
standard works of natural history, induced Lieutenant- 
Colonel W. H. Sykes, of the Bombay Army, to send a 
description, accompanied by a drawing, of the wild doz 
he had become acquainted with in the Western Ghauts, 
to the Branch Asiatic Society of Bombay, who, in their 
turn, remitted them to the chief Society of London, in 
whose Transactions both the description and a litho- 
graphic drawing of the dog were published. 
. “Tn the afternoon of the 15th May, 1828,” says 
Colonel Sykes, ‘‘ when encamped at Bhima Shankar, 
the source of the Bhima River, in the Western Ghauts, 
some of the inhabitants of the village, who had been in 
my employ for some days hunting game, brought me a 
wild dog. * * * They called it Colsun. ‘The creature 
was dead, but yet warm; they stated that they had 
followed a pack of them in the morning through the 
dense jungle, and ultimately coming unawares upon 
them had struck down the dog they brought by a blow 
with a stick on the head, the creature not having activity 
sufficient to effect its escape. We were enabled to ac- 
count for this inactivity on opening the stomach by 
finding that the dog had completely gorged itself 
with the remains of a deer, and the bones of the feet of 
some digitate animal were also in the stomach.” 

The length of this animal, from between the ears to 
the beginning of the tail, was twenty-six inches ; its 
height about seventeen inches: the tail, which was 
bushy with hairs, red at the base, but black at the tip, 


THE WILD DOG 


| measured eleven inches, ‘The body of the dog, froin 


206 


the tip of the nose to the base of the tail, was of an 
uniform bright red colour, being a shade or two lighter 
under the throat, on the chest, belly, and inside the 
fore-legs. Its fur consisted of silky and woolly hairs ; 
—the hairs being very short, and without any disposition 
to curl. The most distinguishing characteristics of the 


animal were, Ist, the length and extreme narrowness of | 


the head, which, at its broadest part, measured only 
three inches and a half across :—2dly, the length and 
slenderness of the body :—3dly, the size and strength 


of the legs, feet, and toes, as compared with those | 
of tame dogs of about the same size, and with the body | 


of the wild dog itself:—4thly, the vreat length of the 
neck, which measured eight inches, or nearly one-third 
of the whole length of the animal. The fore-feet had 
five toes, and Colonel Sykes found an elevated, rounded, 
horny process behind the articulation of the wrist, as in 
the jackall. ‘The ears were large, erect, broad above, 
and somewhat rounded at the tips, 
margin of the ear had a lobe, or double edge, as in the 
domestic dog. The pupils of the eyes were red; the iris 


was brown; the whole expression of the face was that | 


of a coarse, ill-humoured pariah dog.” 
As all our readers may not be so familiar with pariah 
does as the Colonel is, it may be well to mention that 


the animals so called in India are poor, unowned dog's | 


that wander about the towns and villages, and along 


the banks of rivers, picking up a hving in any way they | 


can. ‘Their condition is much the same as that of the. 
dogs at Constantinople, described in No. 24 of ‘ The 


Penny Magazine.” ‘Though they belong to nobody, and | 


never enter their houses, the Mohammedans in India, 
like their brethren in ‘Turkey, consider it a laudable act 
of charity to throw out food now and then for these 
dogs. As to their breed, they are mongrels; but 
Bishop Heber saw some of them not unlike a large 
Enelish terrier. The Bishop was also forcibly struck at 
finding the same dog-like and amiable qualities in these 
neglected animals as in their more fortunate brethren 
in Europe*, — 

To return to Colonel Sykes’s wild dog: that gentle- 
man goes on to say that, being anxious to preserve his 
rare specimen, he took every possible care to prepare the 
skin properly. He removed the skin from the body, 
leaving in the necessary bones of the head and limbs, 
and imbued the inner surface with arsenical paste. The 
skin was then filled with dry grass, and the specimen 
was put into a basket with some other skins. On 
taking up his monsoon quarters at Poonah, the Colonel 
had the skin of the dog steeped in tepid water, and then 


the usual process of stuffing with cotton and putting | 


in Wires was attempted. T’o the Colonel’s utter surprise, 
the skin, in many places, opposed as little resistance to 
pressure or stretching as wetted brown paper would 
have done. He could not explain the cause of this de- 
composition ; and he found the skins of small deer that 
had been prepared in the same manner, and in precisely 
the same circumstances, perfectly sound. The head 
and feet of the dog, however, remained quite perfect. 
From his attentive observations, Colonel Sykes con- 
cluded “‘ that the wild dog of our ghauts cannot be 
identified with any dog of which a description is given 
in the works of natural history within my reach. It 
differs from the Dhole in having a bushy tail; from the 
Chien Sauvage de Ceylon in its bushy tail and su- 
perior size; from the African Wild Doe (likened to 
a large fox-hound) in its inferior size; and from the 
Dingo of New Holland in its inferior height, general 


proportions, and colour; from the Chakal it is readily. 


distinguished by its superior size, length of body, 
magnitude of limbs, and by its colour, 
will not admit of there being several spectes of the wild 


* © Narrative of a Journey through the Upper Provinces of | 


India, &¢—A, most amusing, excellent work, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The posterior | 


multitude of. his comparatively feeble enemies. 


| desperately all the time to recover his liberty. 


| hess. 


If naturalists | 
| Colonel adds in a note,—“ Since writing the above, I 


[May 81, 


dog, we must class the Colsun as an hitherto undescribed 
variety.” 

The inhabitants of the Ghauts were well aware of 
the existence of large troops of these wild dogs in 
their jungles and fastnesses, and entertained some very 
extravagant notions as to their courage, prowess, and 
address. Colonel Sykes, while confirming the fact that 
they pursue their prey in packs, seems to doubt the 
assertion of the natives that the wild dogs are so bold 
as to hunt and attack the royal tiger. Bishop Heber 
had more faith; and in the following passage he not 
only makes the assertion very credible, but gives a 
spirited natural history sketch. He saw the specimen 
he describes in Kemaoon. 

** One of the most curious animals I saw or heard of, 
was a wild dog belonging to Mr. Adam. ‘These ani- 
mals are considerably larger and stronger than a fox, 
which, in the circumstances of form and fur, they much 
resemble. They hunt, however, in packs, give tongue like 
other dogs, and possess a very fine scent. They make, 
of course, tremendous havoc among the game in these 
hills; but that mischief they are said amply to repay by 
destroying wild beasts, and even tigers. ‘This assertion 
was at first made, at least in print, in Captain Wilkiain- 
son’s * Field-Sports of India,’ but obtained very little 
credit. None of my Kemaoon friends, however, doubted 
the fact, which they said was the universal belief of the 
peasants, and was corroborated by the fact of tigers 
having been found lately killed and torn in pieces, 
which could be ascribed to no other enemy. Mr. Trail] 
did not, indeed, suppose that they would actually chase 
a tiger by preference, but that if, in the pursuit of other 
gwaine, they fall in with either tiger or lion, they have 
both the power and the will, from their numbers, swift- 
ness, courage, and ferocity, to rush on him and tear 
him to pieces, before he would have time to strike more 
than one or two blows with his tremendous paws. 
Each of the tiger’s blows would no doubt kill a doe, 
but in the meantime a hundred others would be at his 
throat, back, and sides, and he would sink under the 
My. 
Adam’s dog was exceedingly wild and fierce. He was 
brought for me to see him, led by two men, who-held 
him between them-in a long chain, and he struggled 
He has 
begun to endure,.with somewhat more placability, the 
presence of the man,who feeds him. * * * * If he 
were domesticated, I could conceive his being: a fine 
valuable animal. Ofdogs he bears the strongest resem- 
blance to those of the Esquimaux and Kamtschatka- 
dales, as represented in Bewick’s engravings *.” This 
specimen is evidently a different variety from that of 
the colsun or wild dog of the Western Ghauts. 

According to Colonel Sykes, the colsum he described 
is not confined to Bhima-Shankar and its neighbour- 
hood, but is found in the southern Mahratta country, 
and especially in the jungles and hills about Kietir, 
where the natives call it by the same name of colsun, 
and also tell wonderful stories of its cunning and bold- 
In the southern Mahratta states a fnend of the 
Colonel’s once came upon a troop of these colsuns, 


| grouped in various positions under a tree; but they 


were so wary that they would not let him get a shot at 
them. ‘* Wild dogs,” says the Colonel in conclusion, 
‘‘ exist also in the neighbourhood of the hill-fort of 
Asseerghur,—some officers of the 23rd Regiment of the 
Bombay Native Infantry having seen a pack in full 
pursuit of a wild buffalo. They are met with on the 
Neileherries; and a gentleman, recently from those 
mountains, to whom [ showed my specimen, identified it 
with the wild dog of those elevated regions.” The 


am enabled to state that Captain Oakes, of the Bombay 
* Vol. ii, p, 220, 2214 





1834.] 


army, had a colsun in his possession alive for a consi- 
derable time, and was never able to modify its natural 
savageness in the slightest degree.” This want of 
success arose in all probability from wrong treatment, 
or a mistaken system of taming. In another part of 
the East Indies, Bishop Heber saw a hyena, a much 
more formidable animal, and one that has always been 
considered (though in this the Bishop thinks injustice 
has been done to it) as altogether untameable, which 
followed his master about like a dog, and fawned on all 
the persons with whom he was acquainted in almost the 
same munner, 

In addition to Colonel Sykes’s communication, the 
Asiatic Society’s ‘ Transactions ’ show, on the authority 
oF T. H. Baber, Esq., and Colonel H. J. Bowler, that, 
besides in the parts of India already mentioned, the 
wild dog is found along the western coast, very nume- 
rously in the Balaghat district, in the Hyderabad dis- 
trict, in most parts of the Deccan, along the whole 
extent of the woody country in the districts of Ellur and 
Rajamahendri, and in parts of Ganjam on the eastern 
coast of Coromandel. Mr. Baber says there is no doubt 
that these animals, which run invariably in large packs, 
lall both cheetahs and tieers,—that all animals, indeed, 
are afraid of them,—that he himself was once followed 
for the distance of eight or ten miles by a pack of them, 
which were prevented from snapping up some terriers 
and Spanish dogs he had with him, only by repeated 
discharges of his pistols. This gentleman also inferms 
us, that in the formation of their claws there is a differ- 
ence from that of the wolf or jackal, resembling in this 
respect the claws of the cat rather than those of the dog ; 





and he thinks this will account for the circumstance (ot 


which we were not before aware) of these wild dogs 
always attacking and tearing out the eyes of their prey. 


The Good Old Times.—The want of paved streets, of 


hghts, of sewers, and of water, in great cities, were merely 
inconveniences; but the want of every kind of comfort 
within their houses leaves us nothing to envy of the enjoy- 
ments of our forefathers in those good old times, which are 
the sad burden of many “ an idle song,’ and the constant 
theme of repining patriots. We may form a tolerably cor- 
rect notion of the comforts of the: poor about the sixteenth 
century, from the /uxurtes registered in the household book 
of the great Earl of Northumberland. From this document 
it appears that in one of the most noble and splendid esta- 
blishments in the kingdom, the retainers and servants had 
but spare and unwholesome diet; salt-beef, mutton, and 
fish, three-fourths of the year, with little or no vegetables : 
“so that,” as Hume says, “ there cannot be anything more 
erroneous than the magnificent ideas formed of the roast 
beef of old England.” . . ‘““ My lord and lady them- 
selves do not seem to fare very delicately: they have set on 
their table for breakfast, at seven o'clock in the morning, a 
quart of beer, as much wine, two pieces of salt-fish, six red 
herrings, four white ones, and a dish of sprats.”—Quarterly 
Review. 


‘CAERNARVON CASTLE. 


In the near neighbourhood of the present town of 
Caernarvon was the town which the Romans called 
Segontium, but which appears to have been a British 
settlement before their time, and to have been known 
by the name of Caer-Seint, or Seiont, of which Segon- 
tium is merely the Latin modification. The estuary 
immediately to the north of Caernarvon still bears the 
name of the Seiont, and Caer-Seiont would mean the 
town, or rather fortified station, on that estuary. The 
old historian Nennius calls the place Caer-Custent, that 
is, the town of Constantine ; and itis stated by Matthew 


of Westminster, that in 1288, while preparations were’ 


making for the erection of the Castle of Caernarvon, a 


body was found here, which was believed to be that of. 


The Em- | 


Constantius, the father of that emperor. 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. 207 
of July, 306; but we may take leave to doubt this 
story of his remains having been discovered nearly a 
thousand years after in North Wales. 

Caernarvon,—or, more properly, Caer-yn-Arfon,— 
means the fortified city in Arvon; and Arvon means 
the district opposite to Mona or Anglesey, from which 
island this part of Wales is separated by the narrow 
strait of the Menai. The term is used by Gray in 
* The Bard :?’— | . 


“On dreary Arvon’s shore they lie.” 


We believe there are no records that prove a town to 
have existed where Caernarvon now stands before the 
conquest of Wales by Edward I., towards the close of 
the thirteenth century,—although it is not improbable 
that the inhabitants of the ancient Segontium, which 
appears ‘to have been then deserted and in ruins, may 
have before that date transferred themselves to this new 
station. But it may at any rate be assumed that the 
town or village, if there already was anything of the 
kind, was extremely insignificant. 

As has happened in many other cases, the present 
town of Caernarvon has been principally called into 
existence by the erection of the fortress around which 
it stands. Caernarvon Castle was erected by Edward L., 
immediately after the subjection of‘ the principality. 
The building could scarcely have been begun before 
the year 1283, and the common tradition is, that it was 
finished early in the following year. From some ancient 
documenits, however, it appears that the work occupied a 
space of twelve years from its commencement to its ter- 
mination,—a much more probable account. The castle 
is said to have been raised at the cost of the chieftains 
of the neighbourhood, whom it was intended to overawe 
and keep in subjection; and, with the like tyrannical 
policy, the stern conqueror made the peasantry be driven 
in herds to the spot, and compelled to labour in rearing 
the pile which was to be at once the monument of the 
subjugation of their country, and one of the chief 
strongholds of the foreign dominion under which they 
had fallen. The name of the architect, or master- 
mason, as the designation was in those times, is stated 
to have been Henry Ellerton, or de Elreton. Even 
these names deserve to be preserved from oblivion,— 
both because to record them is an honour due to those 
who have bequeathed to the world any grand pro- 
duce of their genius or skill,—and for the sake of the 
history of art, upon which even a name may sometimes 
help to throw light. If it should be found, for in- 
stauce, that in any country the earliest architects had 
generally borne not native but foreign names, that cir- 
cumstance would afford a presumption that the style of 
architecture which they practised had been an importa- 


tion from abroad, and might even indicate the par- 


ticular quarter from which the knowledge of the art 
had come. It might help, at least, in Jago’s phrase,— 
“ to thicken other proofs 

That do demonstrate thinly.” 

What appears to have given rise to the improbable 
tradition of the building of Caernarvon Castle havine 
been completed in one year is the fact, as to which, we 
believe, all the authorities are agreed, that Edward’s 
son, who afterwards became Edward IL., was born here 
on the 25th of Apmil, 1284. It is told that Edward, in 
the persuasion that the opposition of his new subjects 
would probably be most easily and effectually overcome 
by humouring their national prejudices, caused it to be 
announced to an’assembly of their principal men that 
he intended to give them a native of their own-country 





‘for their prince; on which, as he anticipated, they ex- 


pressed their gratitude in warm terms, and declared 
their readiness to yield obedience to the sovereign so 
appouited. Having received their assurances to this 


peror Constantius Chlorus died at York, on the 25th | effect, Kkdward then produced his newly-born son, and 


208 


declared him Prince of Wales. It is to be observed 
that Edward had at this time an elder son, Alphonso, 
who, had he lived, would of course have inherited the 
crown of England; so that the arrangement now made 
does not appear to have originally contemplated the 
union and incorporation of the two countries. Al- 
phonso, however, died a few years after, when the 
Prince of Wales became the heir apparent of the Eng- 
lish throne. Since this period the eldest son of the 
King of England has always borne the title of the 
Prince of Wales from his birth. 

A small apartment, measuring only about twelve feet. 
by eight, is still shown at Caernarvon Castle as that in 
which Edward II. first’ saw the light. It is in what is 
called the Eagle Tower, and can-only be entered by a 
door raised high above the ground, and the ascent to 
which’ is over a draw-bridge. ‘There is a fire-place in 
the room, but it must have been in its best days a dark 
aud comfortless chamber, and it is painful to suppose 
that the excellent Eleanor of Castile should at such a 
time have been limited to the accommodations of so 
miserable an abode. If it was deemed necessary, for 
reasous of state policy, that she should be conveyed to 
Wales when about to give birth to her child, her banish- 
niént to a strange, hostile, and half, savage land, little 
needed to have had its severities aggravated’ by imprison- 
ment in such a dungeon. © It ought to be added, how- 
ever, that, notwithstanding the tradition of the . place, 
there is much reason to’ doubt if the apartment in 
question was really that inhabited on this occasion by 
Queen Eleanor. It is, perhaps, more probable that she 
occupied the central room of the tower, which is large 
and commodious, and to which this may be regarded 
as merely a closet. = . 

The vast pile of Caernarvon Castle stands on an 
elevated aud rocky site in the north-west quarter of the 
town, overlooking the Menai Strait on the one hand, } 
and with Snowdon and the other mountains of pets 
range fronting it at no great distance on the other. It 





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is nearly surrounded by the sea on three of its sides, and 
a moat has, in former times, been drawn round the 
fourth. ‘The whole is surrounded by a wall, defended 
at intervals by round towers. The area inclosed within 
this fortification is in shape an irregular oblong, and is 
of great extent. It was. formerly divided into two 
courts,—the outer and inner; but, although the wall 
itself is still tolerably entire, the buildings in the interior 
are now in most places greatly decayed, and in some 
are mere heaps of ruins.. There are two principal 
rates; the one facing the east, the other the west. Over 
the latter is the Eagle Tower, already mentioned, a 
lofty and massive structure, with three slender angular 
turrets issuing from its summit, which crown it with 
lightness and giace., This tower,forms, now by far the 
finest ornament of the ancient castle. It takes its name 
from a stone figure of an eagle which is placed’ over 


the ‘wate, and which tradition asserts to be of Roman 


workmanship. ‘The imperial ensign is said: to, have 
been found among the ruins of Segontium. _ The view 
of the surrounding country from the top of this tower is 
of great extent and beauty... : 

_ Besides the Eagle Tower, and that over the eastern 
entrance, over the gateway, in which is a ‘statue of 
Edward I., armed. with a dagger, there are numerous 
smaller towers, all angularly-shaped, but of various 
firures, some being five sides, others six-sided, and 
others having eight sides. The walls, which are pierced 
with narrow slits or loop-holes, are in general nearly 
eight feet thick ; but the thickness of those of the Eagle 
Tower is not less than nine -feet and a half. The only 
staircase that is not in ruins is that in the Eagle Tower. 

The history of Caernarvon Castle has scarcely been 
marked by ‘any memorable events. In 1294 it was 
surprised and taken by a band of Welsh insurgents, 
who put the English garrison to the sword. It also 
several times changed its masters in the-course~of -the 
civil wars of the seventeenth century; but it never has 
stood any lerigthened siege. : 


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*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln's 


Inn Fields, 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 


Printed by Wittram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


May 31, 1834, 


Monthly Supplenient of 


THE PENNY MAGAZI 





OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 








April 30, to May 31, 1834. 








HOGARTH AND HIS WORKS.—No. II. 


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“ The drunkard shall come to poverty, and drowsiness shall clothe a man with rags.”—Proverbs, xxiii. 21, 
“The hand of the diligent maketh rich.”"—Proverbs, x., 4. . ; 


[ApPrenTices AT THEIR Looms. | 


Asout the middle of the Jast century an old play, called 
‘ Eastward Hoe,’ was revived at Drury Lane Theatre ; 
it had been previously published in Dodsley’s ‘ Collec- 
tion. To this play it is said that Hogarth was in- 
debted for the suggestion of the contrast between the 
courses of a faithful and virtuous, and a careless and 
vicious apprentice, which he has delineated in_his series 
of prints called ‘ Industry and Idleness.’ This is by no 
means improbable, although the painter's treatment 
of the subject is essentially different from that in the 
drama. ‘ Eastward Hoe,’ which was the joint pro- 
duction of Ben Jonson, George Chapman, and John 
Marston, and was first published in 1605, is founded 
upon an entirely different state of manners from those 
wich prevailed in the days of Hogarth—contrasting 
as much as the stuffed hose, the long-waisted doublet, 
and the high-peaked hat of the time of James I., con- 
trasted with the square-cut coat, the long-flapped 
waistcoat, the periwig, and the buckles, of the time 
of George II. Before we proceed to our main object 
if describing this series of the works of Hogarth, it 


Vou. EER 


ca 


may not be uninstructive to furnish our readers with 
an introductory account of that remarkable and once 
formidable body,—the London apprentices. © 

To most readers the vivid and amusing description 
of the manners and habits of the London apprentices 
in early times, given by the pen of the ‘ Author of 
Waverley’ in the * Fortunes of Nigel’ must be well 
known. The characters of Jin Vin and Frank Tun- 
stall may be considered as no less correct than animated 
representations of the class to which they belonged. 
But it is not merely in works of fiction that we meet 
with frequent notices of the apprentices of London. 
The chronicles and other records of former times offer 
many particulars of the manners and conduct of a class 
of society which has long ceased to exist as a separate 
body. So entirely is this the case, that it may perhaps 
be to many persons a matter of surprise that they 
should ever have had that consequence which at one 
time they certainly possessed. ‘This consequence was 
owing to several circumstances. It is well known that 
the custom which still exists of learning handicraft 


2 Is 


210 


trades by means of an apprenticeship is of very old date. 

It has indeed been in use in London time out of mind, | 
and appears to have originated as a part of the system 

of incorporating trades into companies called “* gilds,” 

which was established here on the first rise of trade and 
commerce, and of which we have still some remains 

in the various companies now existing in the city of 
London. 

These companies have lost in a-great measure their 
original character-and intention-; but when the system 
was in full operation,j—when every trade had its 
separate @ild—and when, in order that any one might 
exercise a trade, it was necessary that he should be free 
of the gild, this freedom being obtained only by serving 
all apprenticeship to a member of the company,—not 
only was the number of apprentices very considerable, 
but they were a distinct class, and formed an important 
part of the commercial system. ‘They are called in an 
old tract, “a degree or order of good regular subjects, 
out of whose, as it were, noviceships or colleges citizens 
are supplied.” They were the dependants upon bodies 
of considerable importance, and thus derived a con- 
sequence from the wealth and influence of those with 
whom they were connected. Another cause to which 
their consequence may be ascribed is the circumstance 
that they seem to have been of rather a superior class. 
It appears indeed that, in early times, the handicraft 
trades received a degree of consideration which they do 
not enjoy at present. It was not permitted to every 
one to exercise such an occupation. There is an act of 
parliament passed in the reign of Henry IV., which 
contains the very curious provision, that no one should 
put his son or daughter apprentice to a handicraft trade, 
“except he have land or rent to the value of 20s., by 
the year,” which in those days would be a considerable 
suin. We are also informed by the historians of Lon- 
don, that the regulations of the city were, that no one 
should be admitted to be bound apprentice, except such 
as were “gentlemen born.” ‘This is probably to be 
o'enerally understood, free-born, or not in a state of 
villenage ; although the younger sons of gentlemen were 
ordinarily to be found, in the days of the Tudors and 
Stuarts, in the commercial establishments of rich citizens, 
learning their craft, and serving at their counters. In 
‘MWastward Hoe,’ the idle apprentice says to his master, 
‘* Sir, my mother’s a gentlewoman, and my father a justice 
of peace and of qucrum.” That the city’s regulations 
were not without their effect, appears both from Stow 
and other writers, the former of whom, indeed, attributes 
to this very circumstance, some of the habits of the ap- 
prentices. ‘* Because the apprentices of London were 
often children of wentlemen and persons of good quality, 
they did affect to go in costly apparel, and wear wea- 
pons, and frequent schools of dancing, fencing, and 
music.” But what more than anything else gave im- 
portance to the apprentices was the remarkable degree 
of union which subsisted among them, probably ongi- 
lating in the peculiar dress which was assigned to them, 
and the particular regulations which they were subject 
to, and which were carried to such an extent as, in the 
imperfect state of police then existing, must have made 
them even a dangerous body. In the preface to a 
curious poem entitled ‘The Honour of London Ap- 
prentices, published in 1647, the author thus quaintly 
describes what he calls the “‘ unanimous correspondency 
that is among that innumerable company.” ‘* ‘There 
is,” he says, “‘ a kind of supernatural sympathy, a general 
union, which knits their hearts in a bond of fraternal 
affection, under the common notion of London pren- 
tices,.in so.much that as I have taken notice many a 
time and often, if any either real or supposed wrong or 
violence be offered to any one, the rest (though not 
otherwise) knowing him to be a prentice, do imme- 
diately, and commonly without examination of the 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


I 


|May Sl, 


quarrel, engage themselves in the rescue, affrichting 


the adversary with this terrible sentence, ‘ Knock him 


down, he wrongs a prentice.’” The watchword of ‘ Pren- 
tices and clubs’ appears to have been always promptly 
responded to; and it may be supposed that such a body 
thus ready to assist one another, and confident in their 
numbers, would be extremely formidable in any civic 
tumult, more particularly as they had in London the 
advantage of the Liberties of the Tower and other places 
for rendezvous and retreat, ito wlnch the city forces 
were not allowed to pursue them. There are, in the 
memoirs and chronicles of the times, from the reign of 
Henry VI. to the revolution of 1688, frequent accounts 
of the disturbances and insurrections in which the ap- 
prentices took a principal part. But even prior to this 
time the apprentices of London appear to have distin- 
guished themselves in a nobler field than a city insur- 
rection. The author of the poem above mentioned 
celebrates the prowess of some of them in the holy 
wars, and the field of Crecy. 

At a later period we have, in the tracts of the time, 
many curious particulars as to the manners and _ habits 
of the apprentices. In a tract published in 1625, and 
entitled ‘The City’s Advocate in this case of honour 
and arms, whether apprenticeship extingnisheth gentry,’ 
the author gives the following account of an appren- 
tice’s ordinary services :—‘‘ He goes bare-headed, stands 
bare-headed, waits bare-headed before his master and 
mistress ; and. while as yet he is the youngest appren- 
tice, he doth perhaps, for discipline sake, make old lea- 
ther over night shine with blacking for the morning; 
brusheth a garment, runs of errands, Ieeps silence till 
he have leave to speak, follows his master, or ushereth 
his mistress, and sometimes my young mistresses their 
daughters, (aniong whom some one or other of them 
doth not rarely prove the apprentice’s wife,) walks not 
far out but with permission, and now and then, as of- 
fences happen, he may chance to be terribly chiddeu or 
menaced, or what sometime must be worthily corrected.” 
The same author gives the following account of the 
peculiar dress of the apprentices :—‘‘ The flat round 
cap, hair close cut, narrow falling band, coarse side- 
coat, close hose, cloth stockings, and ‘the rest of that 
severe habit, was in antiquity not more for thrit and 
usefulness than for distinction and grace, and were ori- 
ginally arguments or tokens of vocation or calling.” 


Of this dress, Stow, in his Survey of London, gives scme 


further particulars. ‘In the time of Queen Mary, and 
beginning of Queen . Khzabeth,.as well as many years 
before, all apprentices wore blue cloaks in the summer, 
and blue gowns in the winter ; their breeches and stock- 
ings were usually of white broad cloth, namely, round 
slops, and-their stockings sewed up close thereto, as if 
they were all but one piece. ‘They also wore flat caps, 
both then and many years after, whom the pages of 
the court in derision called flat-caps.” He also stutes, 
that ‘‘ when apprentices and journeymen attended upon 
their masters and mistresses at night, they went before 
them carrying a lantern and a candle in their hands, 
and a great long club on their necks; and many well- 
grown sturdy apprentices used to wear long daggers in 
the day time on their backs or sides.” Of the import- 
ance attached to the dress of the apprentices, a remark- 
able proof is given in a proclamation issued on the 2 Ist 
May, 1582, by the Lord Mayor, by direction of the 
Common Council, which contains a variety of curious 
enactments on the subject. But it should seem from 
the ‘ City’s Advocate,’ from which an extract has already 
been given, that it was not found easy to carry into 
effect these regulations, and in particular that the cap 
which had drawn down on the apprentices from the 
gay pages of the court the opprobrious appellation of 
‘* flat-caps,” had fallen into disuse. 

Many of the most formidable Imswrrections in’ which 





1834.) | 


the apprentices were engaged, were directed against 
foreign artificers and tradesmen; and it is not impro- 
bable that in these cases they may have had, if not the 
_ direct encouragement, at least the secret connivance of 
their masters. One of the earliest of these we have an 
account of in ‘The Cronycle of England,’ published in 
1515. It occurred in 1454, in the reign of Henry VLI., 
the Lombards settled in London being the objects of 
attack. Another very serious riot, which took place in 
the reign of Henry VIII., on the Ist May, 1517, and 
from which that day was named Evil May-day, is said, 
in the picturesque description given in Hall’s Chronicle, 
3 have been commenced by the apprentices. Many 






imilar disturbances are recorded by Stow to have taken 
place in the reie@n of Queen Elizabeth, particularly “‘in 
the beginning of September, 1586, when they made a 
formidable insurrection amonnting to little less than 
treason ayainst the French and Dutch.” Indeed, there 
are more instances than one in the state-trials, in which 
apprentices have been tried and executed for nigh trea- 
son. in the umes of the civil war, the apprentices bore 
an active part, and in the restoration of Charles IT. 
they seem to. have taken a lead. Of the importance 
attached by themselves to their own influence, there is 
a curious proof in a letter written about the time of the 
Restoration, by the apprentices of Bristol to their bre- 
thren in London; and this letter is also remarkable, as 
showing that the same system which had been esta- 
blished in London, had extended into other parts of 
the country. There is still preserved in the British 
Museum, a manuscript summons for the apprentices of 
London to meet in Covent Garden, for the purpose of 
promoting one of the petitions which they had pre- 
sented to parliament. Many petitions were indeed pre- 
sented by them to parliament during the civil war, and 
Covent Garden appears to have been the usual place of 
assembling for such purpose. ‘The following extracts 
from Pepys’s Diary serve to show that, during the reign 
of Charles II., the apprentices continued to be a tur- 
bulent body, and they are proofs both of the close 
union subsisting among them, and of the idea which 
was generally entertained of their power. On the 26th 
March, 1664, he writes :—‘‘ Upon occasion of some 
‘prentices being put in the pillory for beating of their 
masters, or such like thing, in Cheapside, a company of 
*prentices came and rescued them, and pulled down the 
pillory, and they being set up again, did the like again.” 
And on the 24th March, 1668, he says :—‘“ ‘Thence 
back to Whitehall, where great talk of the tumult at 
the other end of the town, about Moorfields, among the 
’prentices taking the liberty of these holidays to put 
down disorderly houses. And Lord! to see the appre- 
hensions which this did give to all people at court, that 
presently order was given for all the soldiers, horse und 
foot, to be in arms; and forthwith alarms were beat, 
by drum and trumpet, through Westminster, and all to 
their colours, and to horse, as if the French were coming 
into the town.” 

The last time that the apprentices are recorded to 
have acted together as a body was in the Revolution of 
1688, in which we learn from Burnet that they took 
some part. After this time their union appears to have 
been dissolved, but to what this was owing does not 
seem certain. Probably a better organized system of 
police, and measures taken to prevent such flagrant 
violations of the peace of the city, may have been among 
tne most effective causes; to which may be added the 
silent operation of that gradual change of manners 
which by degrees softened down the distinctions, and 
merged in one general mass the different classes, of 
society. 

Half a century after the apprentices of London had 
ceased to act as a body, Hogarth produced his ‘ In- 
dustry and Idleness,’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


He looked round upon the | 


211 


state of society then existing, and drew his pictures of 
life from the realities which met his observation. Had 
his object been to give an historical representation of 
the different courses of Prudence and Carelessness, he 
might have embodied a portion of the plot of the old 
drama of ‘ Eastward Hoe’ without any material de- 
parture from its characters and incidents. He would 
have laid his scenes, as the scenes in that drama are 
laid, in the house of a respectable goldsmith of the 
times of Ben Jonson and Shakspeare. He would 
have exhibited the sober citizen calmly remonstrating 
with the giddy youth who had discarded his “ flat 
cap, and was decorated, as the old stage directions. 
have it, with his ‘hat, pumps, short-sword, and 
dagger.’ He would have made us Imagine the old 
goldsmith (by name Touchstone) exclaiming, as in the 
play,— Did I gain my wealth by ordinarics? no: by 
exchanging of gold? no: by keeping of gallants’ 
company? no: I hived me a little shop,—fought low, 
—took small gain,—kept no debt-book,—garnished my 
shop, for want of plate, with good, wholesome, thrifty 
sentences, as, * ‘Touchstone, keep thy shop, and thy 
shop will keep thee;—light gains make heavy purses; 
—'tis good to be merry and wise.’” ‘These old rules of 
prudence can never wear out ; they are maxims from 
which the soundest philosophy might take its text. 
Hogarth would have painted the careful but generous 
merchant looking with a clouded though not forbid- 
ding brow upon his thoughtless apprentice, as he says, 
—" As for you, think of husks, for thy course is 
running directly to the prodigal’s hog-trough.” But 
it was the business of Hogarth to paint life as he 
found it. The days were past when a London ap-: 
prentice would despise his master, as in the old play, 
because ‘‘ his father was a maltman and his mother sold‘ 
gingerbread ;” or would think it a fine thing to say “ I 
am a gentleman and may swear by my pedigree.” Ap- 
prentices to handicraft were, in Hogarth’s time, as they 
are now, chiefly taken from the ranks of those who 
laboar with their hands ; and if they came to be placed 
above that necessity, the elevation was, in most cases, 
the result of their own industry and good conduct. 
The moral painter has exhibited to us, in his first plate, 
the fellow apprentices in a weaver’s workshop. The: 
one, whose open, modest, and intelligent countenance at- 
once wins our regard, is carefully intent upon the duty: 
of his occupation ; the other, whose vulgar and unintel- ’ 
lectual face is indicative of the habitual grossness of: 
his character, is fast asleep. The porter-pot on the 
loom and the tobacco-pipe by its side show that his 
drowsiness proceeds from indulgence rather than from - 
fatigue. He is equally indifferent to the noise of the cat 
who is playing with his shuttle, and to the anery step 


of his master, who is entering the door with a cane 


uplifted for his chastisement. The accessories of the. 
scene are few and simple, but they assist the develop- 
ment of its characters. ‘The industrious apprentice has 
fixed upon the wall some papers which may incite him 
to persevere in his course of diligence, such as the life of 
Whittington: the idler has stuck up a profane ballad of 
that day, called ‘ Moll Flanders.’ ‘The ‘ ’Prentice’s - 
Guide ’ of the one is carefully preserved ; that of the 
other is torn and dirty. The artist, in this first plate 
of his series, has made the difference of the two charac- ’ 
ters that he intends to contrast in their conduct and 
their fortunes perfectly intelligible. He has strikingly 
availed himself of the general inclination to associate 
certain qualities of the mind with certain forms of coun- 
tenance and modes of expression. Hogarth was a great 
physioenomist,—so much so that Lavater, who endea- 
voured to reduce physiognomy to a science, has chosen 
the face of the idle apprentice, in the fifth print of this: 
series (which we shall give in our next Number), to: 
illustrate a part of his system, in — how profli- 
2 


é 


212 


wacy leaves its indelible traces on the features of its 
unhappy victims,—how inen “ erase Nature's works ” 
by habits of low indulgence. : 

The idle apprentice “of the old play presumes upon 
his gentility, and thinks it gives him a title to despise 


industry, to dress in a manner unbefitting his station, 


to swagger in taverns and gaming-houses, to spend the 
night in drunken excitements. The idle apprentice of 
Hogarth exhibits the characteristic’ vices of a lower 
rank of society. He sinks at once into the degradation 
which the profligate with higher aims doubtless sinks 
to at last, but which he does not at first contemplate 
as the natural direction of his career. All sensual 
eratifications are gross and. revolting; but the cor- 
ruption is sometimes veiled’ over by the thin disguises 
which. seem to the inexperienced as something akin 
to spirit and generosity. Such exhibitions of vice are 
like the dead apples of the East—bloom and fresh- 
ness.without, but unsatisfying ashes within. ‘The pro- 
digal coxcomb of ‘ Eastward ‘Hoe, says to his fellow 
apprentice—‘* do nothing; be like a gentleman, be 
idle.; .the curse of man is labour.” 
of Hogarth says pretty much the same in his heart :— 
“do nothing o; be a happy vagabond, be idle; the curse 
of man is labour.” They are each wrecked upon the 
same quicksand of false opinions. ‘The most pampered 
favourite of fortune, who dedicates himself to habitual 


self-indulgence, and’ believes that labour is a curse and: 


a shame,’ ends, like Hogarth’s own rake, in misery 
and .disgrace:.the youth who having, to live by. the 
work of. his hands, despises the means of maintenance 


and advancement which society offers him, soon turns 


to prey upon. the fruits ‘of the industry of others, and 
runs along the broad path: to destruction with ‘very 
rapid strides. Calamity may come in time to arrest 
the steps both of the luxurious prodigal and the grovel- 
Ing vagabond ; but if the warning comes in vain, the 
cup of misery is soon filled for both. 

The two.prints on the opposite page tell their own 
story; and they need little comment. In this series of 


prints, the artist has avoided the refined and ingenious: 
elaborations of his main design, which distinguish most. 


of his other great performances. . This he did upon sys- 
tem. He himself says, “as the prints were intended 
more for use than ornament, they were done in a way 
that might bring them within the purchase of those 
whom they might most concern. . Yet, notwithstanding 
the inaccuracy ‘of the engraving, what was thought con- 
clusive and necessary. for the purpose for which ‘they 
were intended, such as action and expression, &c.,:are 
as carefully attended to as the:most delicate strokes of 
the graver would have given ; sometimes more: for often 


expression, the first quality in pictures, suffers in this. 


point, for fear the beauty of the stroke should. be 
spoiled; while the rude and hasty touch, while the 
fancy is warm, gives a spirit not to be equalled by high 
finishing.” But although these prints are much sim- 
pler in their conception “than those of the Marriage-a- 
la-Mode, the Rake’s Progress, the Election, and others, 
the peculiar genius: of. Hogarth sufliciently exhibits 
itself in them. In the second plate’ the modest. and 
ingenuous apprentice performing the office of devotion; 
and joining in the services of the church. with a young 
woman, whose countenance is equally prepossessing (in- 
tended for his master’s. daughter), at once claims the 
attention and sympathy of all who look on the picture. 
This is the main object of the painter. We see in'the 
calm and contented face of the apprentice, the assu- 
rance of a happy life, whatever be his fortune. The 
wealth and-the hopeurs. which he ultimately reaches 
are not necessary to make him respected. He does his 
duty in the station in which he is now placed; and the 
good wishes of good men already wait on him. This 
is the moral of the painter ; but he surrounds his prin- 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


The grovelling sot} 
He is far beyond the. anes ote 


Po 
¥ 


[May ai, ) 


cipal characters, as Shakspeare always does, with the ac- 
cidental realities of life.: The man asleep in the same pew 
with the apprentice,—the corpulent woman, full of her 
own self-importance—the shrivelled pew-opener, hum-~ 
bly intent upon her devotional duties—these characters 
show the accuracy of Hogarth’s observation, and they 
assist rather than injure the main effect of the design. 

Turn we to the. revolting contrast,—the idle. ap- 
prentice gambling upon a tomb. ‘The images of death 
are about him—those images which teach man the 
worthlessness even of the higher aspirations of mere 
worldly wisdom—of.the love of power or of riches— 
the worthlessness of everything but truth and virtue. 
Yet he is surrendered to the basest of excitements vit 
the basest of companions. Look at that horrid face of 
vacancy and cunning—the blackguard with the patch 
over his eye. We shall see him again in the series— 
the associate in crime, and the betrayer of the unhappy 
ts Wickedness is in companionship with 

h and rags—not the result of poverty alone, but 
of depravity. The self-respect of the wretched appren- 
tice 1s utterly destroyed. He is insensible to shame. 
His heart 1s 
utterly hardened. 

The courses of evil into whit the idle apprentice is 
precipitated are so ‘gross and revolting, that it is possible 
many a young man may exclaim, —‘* What is all this to 

me? I shall never fall so low.” That may be true; 
but the only sure preventive of such a fearful degrada- 
tion is to resist the beginnings of evil. Careful parents, 
diligent instructors, kind but prudent masters, may and 
do save the inexperienced from the temptations which 
surround them; but all these restraints are sometimes 
leaped over. This truth is quiaintly but beautifully 
expressed by one of our old poets, George Herbert :— 


‘Lord, with what care hast thou begirt us round! 
Parents first season us; then schoolmasters 
Deliver us to laws; they send us bonnd 
. To rules of reason, holy messengers. 


Pulpits and Sundays, sorrow dogging sin, * « 
Afffictions sorted, anguish of all S1Zes, 

Fine nets and stratagems to catch us in, 
Bibles laid open; millions of surprises ; 


Blessings beforehand, ties of gratefulness, 
' The sound of slory ringing 10 our ears: 
ay bo our shame ; within, our consciences ; 
. Angels and grace, eternal hopes and fears. 


Yet all these fences and their whole array, 
One a rosom-sin blows quite away.” 


The +: Dose sin” which besets most young men is 
a natural impatience of restraint. ‘To. the apprentice, 
and especially to the poor apprentice, this feeling is 
much too often present. The constant round of labour, 
and the few relaxations of his lot, often appear little 
better than slavery.. The good of all this carefulness 
and ‘restraint is distant; the youth’s desire for freedom 
is nigh at hand. We shall in this place insert a paper, 
which has been transmitted to us by an intelligent 
young man, who has raised himself by his talents and 
eood conduct from a very humble lot in life, and who. 
well describes his own feelings “* before his seven long 
years were out :’ 

“* Six years ago >» eal my friend Richard drowned and 
having been led to review my early intercourse with 
him, T imagined there was one passage of it which 
would not be uninteresting to a considerable class of 
the readers of the ° Penny Magazine’ —those who are 
apprentices. 

'* When I first knew Richard Browne, we were both 
parish apprentices to different shoemakers; but there 


| was this difference between us—that he was “nearly out 


of his time, while I had only served just long enough 
to be master of my business. We were both quiet and 
studious young men for our situation in life. J was 


i 


a “7 


» Siu THE PENNY M 
AGAZINE. 213 
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“ Judgments are prepared for scorners, and stripes for the back of fools —Preverbs; Xey BI, 


[lone APPRENTIC“S Gasunec ' 


214 


almost exclusively a reader of all kinds of books that I 
could get, or had time to read; but Richard was also 
a member of the local Mechanics’ Institute, the 
lectures at which he attended with as much regularity 
as he could, On the evening of “‘ Saint Monday” we 
were allowed to leave our work earlier than on other 
days, and recularly availed ourselves of the opportunity 
to meet by appointment, and, when the weather ad- 
mitted, took a walk into the fields, or along the sea- 
shore, discussing the information we had obtained from 
books or lectures since the last meeting. I have since 
mingled, and do now-.mingle, with persons far more 
competent than poor Richard to give information ; but 
I have never been able to realize the same degree of 
pleasure which my intercourse with him afforded, at the 
time when he was the only person I knew who could 
understand and sympathize in my tastes and habits of 
mind, and who could afford me information on subjects 
beyond the details of daily provision and daily business. 

I feel it impossible to express the sense I entertain of 
the value of such an acquaintance to any man, and 
particularly a very young man. He Is gone. 

“ Amone the circumstances in my own situation 
which the most annoyed me, was the want of personal 
freedom. At half-past six in the morning I was 
generally found at my work, and seldom left it earlier 
than nine in the evening, and, on Saturdays, was 
often kept until midnight. I knew that the non- appear- 
ance of the sun at the ascertained hour of its rising 
would scarcely occasion more remark and sensation in 
the world than my own absence from labour in the 
appointed hours would produce in my immediate circle. 
This displeased me. It displeased me when I looked 
forward, through a series of years that seemed inter- 
minable, and embracing the sunniest period of ex- 
istence, to perceive that it must all -be spent in the 
same monotonous routine of occupation, and that, in 
effect, I had no. more control over my own movements 
or time than the horse which in the morning is taken 
from the stable to dra@w a cart, and in the evening is 
brought back again. I therefore looked forward, with 
the strongest anticipations of perfect and undisturbed 
enjoyment, to the period when my apprenticeship would 
expire—when I should be my own master, should act 
without immediate control, and might go where I 
pleased. 

‘Richard smiled; for I had been expressing myself 

much in this manner to him during one of those 
evening walks of which I have spoken. I never knew 
a man whose smiles conveyed so much meaning as 
those of Richard Browne. I at once understood him, 
on the present occasion, to dissent from me, and said, 
somewhat warmly, ‘I wonder very much, Richard, 
that you do not feel our case to be a hard one! My 
friend replied, ‘ { do really think that the condition of 
an apprentice in this country is, in many respects, a 
very hard one; and chiefly on account of his being 
“bound” for a time so much longer than is necessary 
to learn the business he has in view. This is par- 
ticularly hard upon us parish apprentices; who are 
often bound before fourteen years of age, and have, 
therefore, more than seven years to serve. I have 
been told that there is no country in which the time of 
apprenticeship is so long as with us. In Scotland it 
differs in different corporations, but is usually three 
years, even in very nice trades. In France it also dif- 
fers in the various corporations and trades: in Paris it 
is usually five years; but in many trades a man is not 
qualified to be a master until he has served five years 
more as a journeyman. Nevertheless——’ 

“Ah, nevertheless /—Now, I dare say, after your 
usnal manner, you will be for making out that there is 
something good in this long term of apprenticeship 
among ourselves,’ 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


higher ground for their walk in life. 


[May 31, 


““* Well, John, do not despise my talent of finding 
the mixture of good in the evil things of the world. 
Depend upon it, that there are no evil things so entirely 
evil, nor perhaps good thines so entirely good, as we 
are generally apt to imagine. The good I find in the 
long term of apprenticeship is, that the master is so 
well recompensed by it for teaching a trade, that he 
takes a much smaller premium than he would otherwise 
require; and in consequence of this, very respectable 
trades are much more open to poor boys than they 
would be if the time for which they are beund were 
shorter. I heard Mr. Jackson say a few evening's ago, 
that in most parts of the Continent common trades 
were occupied by men whose connexions would in this 
country be considered such as to entitle them to take 
He did not give 
any reason for this; but I dare say it is owing to the 
large premiums which are demanded on account of the 
short apprenticeships.’ 

“* This seems clear enough, and I wonder it never 
struck me before. But still it has not much to do with 
my particular complaint, that I have, for many years to 
come, to drive the awl and hammer : leather without 
relaxation or pause; like a machine, always at work, 
always fixed in the same place, and without the power 
of calling this right hand my own 

= Well, John, I very well understand you. At your 
age I felt much the same as you do now; and though 
I did laugh when you began to tell me of your feelings 
and expectations of freedom and enjoyment when your 
indentures expire, believe me, I did not laugh at you, 
but what I recollected of nyself. I am now nearly out 
of my time, and when I look back J find that my seven 
years have passed more quickly and have not been so 
tiresome as I expected. It may seem dull in calculation 
to sit so coutinually in the same place, doing nearly 
always the same things. But, in fact, most trades con- 


tai such various work as to afford the changes neces-. 


sary to prevent weariness. Now, in ours, dull though 
it seems, there is hammering, and sewing, aud paring, 
and polishing, and then, at last, the pleasure one feels. 
in the completed work. All this, and many other little 
things, relieve the attention very much; and I can say 
that, though as much a parish ’prentice as yourself, I 
have had no great cause to consider myself unhappy.’ 

‘** Perhaps not ; but how much happier you will be 
when your time is out, and you may go where you 
please, and do what you please !’ 

‘¢*T am sure it will be more comfortable in many re-. 
spects ; especially as one feels directly and fully paid for 
what he earns. But, otherwise, I expect no such 
mighty things from the change, as you do. Go where 
I please, and do what I please, indeed! What does 
that mean, but that I may, if I please, become a vaga- 
bond and fool; which, while I am an apprentice, my 
master will not allow? But ifI please to be a respect- 
able man, honestly discharging my duties te those 
around me, and to those who may depend upon me, 
where I must pleaseto go is my workshop, and what I 
must please to do is my work. This, it is true, is a life 
of toil which I see before me ; but it is honour able toil; 
and I doubt not that I shall find it sweetened by many: 
circumstances of, 

“ Benevolence, and peace, and mutual aid,” 
gathering around me, if cultivated.’ 

‘“** Tt seems, John, that I have been led to take a wider 
view of this matter than youdo. I feel that [ama 
member of a civilized community ; and as such, have! 
many rights, comforts, and privileees which I should: 
not otherwise possess. I have also many wants. I 
must have bread from corn that I do not raise; meat 
that I do not laill; clothes that I cannot make; tea 
from China; and sugar from the West Indies. In ex- 


| change for these henefits, I see that society requires me 





1934,] 


to give up the savage right of being idle, and of going 
about where I please. I think this bargain which 
society makes with me so reasonable and fair, that I am 
very far from having a right to complain. You know 
what our favourite Cowper says about this :— 


*Glest he, though undistinguish'd from the crowd 
By wealth or dignity, who dwells secure, 
Where man, by nature fierce, has laid aside 
Its fierceness, having learnt, though slow to learn, 
Lhe manners and the arts of civil life. 
IYis wants, indeed, are many ; but supply 
Ys obvious, placed within the easy reach 
Of temperate wishes and industrious hands.’ —7asf, b. 1. 


i 
if we do not like this compact into which society 
expects us to enter, I see not what remains for us in 
this country but the life of a gipsy, or something like 
it. Do you think such a life more desirable than one 
of honest industry and domestic comfort ? I don’t. I 
say again with Cowper :— 


‘Strange ! that a creature rational, and cast 
In human mould, should brutalize by choice 
His nature; and though capable of arts, 
By which the world night profit, and himself, 
Self-hamsh’d from society, prerer ! 
Such squalid sloth to honourable toil.’ "— Tass, b. i. 


** Such was the substance of this conversation with my 
excellent friend. On consideration, I thought that his 
observations were very just where they touched; and I 
send them to you in the hope that they may be as use- 
ful to others as they were to me. J had many real evils 
to endure, as I then thought and as [I still think,—but 
I gradually learnt that the very effort to endure begat 
content.” - 

Yn the play of ‘Hastward Hoe,’ the old goldsmith 
diseards his prodigal apprentice, and takes into his con- 
fidence and affection the diligent and virtuous ser- 
vant. -Hogarth has followed this course of the story. 
Inthe fourth plate of the series, the industrious ap- 
prentice 1s exhibited as the familiar friend of his master 
—intrusted with his most important affairs—placed in 
authority over his workmen—raised, in fact, to that posi- 
tion of trust which marks a kindly and honourable in- 
tercourse between the employer and the employed, 
whose interests are one and the same. - We give this 
cut in the last page. 





7 


We gave in our first paper on Hogarth some striking 
passages of criticism from the pen of Mr. Lamb. We 
may conclude this Number with some general remarks 
by Horace Walpole, who, commonly a severe fault- 
finder, understood and appreciated the genius of our 
ereat moral painter. 

“ Having dispatched the herd of our painters in oil, 
i reserved to a class by himself that great and original 


genius, Hogarth; considering him rather as a writer of 


comedy with a pencil than a painter. If catching the 
manuers and follies of an age ‘ living as they rise,’—if 
general satire on vices and ridicules, familiarised by 
strokes of nature and heightened by wit, and the whole 
animated by proper and just expressions of the passions, 
be comedy, Hogarth composed comedy as much as 
Molitre: in his * Marriage a-la-Mode’ there is even an 
trigue carried on throughout the piece. He is more 
true to character than Congreve ; each personage is 
distinct from the rest, acts in his sphere, and cannot be 
confounded with any other of the dramatis persone. 
he alderman’s footboy, in the last print of the set I 
have mentioned, is an lgnorant rustic; and if wit is 
struck out from the characters in which it is not ex- 
pected, it is from their acting conformably with their 
situation, and from the mode of their passions, not from 
thetr having the wit of fine wentlemen. Thus there 
is wit in the figure of the alderman,: who, when his 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


else. 


215 


daughter is expirmeg in the agomes of poison, wears a 
face of solicitude, but it is to save her gold ring, which 
he is drawing gently from her finger. The thought is 
parallel to Moliére’s, where the miser puts ont one of 
the candles as he is talking. Moliére, inimitable as he 
has proved, brought a rude theatre to perfection. [o- 
garth had no model to follow and improve upon; he 
created his art, and used colours instead of language. 
His place is between the Italians, whom we may con- 
sider as epic poets and tragedians, and the Flemish 
painters, who are as writers of farce and editors of bur- 
lesque nature. ‘They are the Tom Browns of the mob. 
Hogarth resembles Butler, but his subjects are more 
universal; and, ainidst all his pleasantry, he observes 
the true end of comedy,—reformation: there is always 
a moral to his pictures. Sometimes he rose to tragedy, 
not in the catastrophe of kings atd heroes, but in 
marking how vice conducts, insensibly and incidentally, 
to misery and shame. He wams against encouraging 
cruelty and idleness in young minds, and diseerns how 
the different vices of the great and the vulgar lead by 
various paths to the same unhappiness. 

“Tt is to Hogarth’s honour that in so many scenes of 
satire or ridicule, it is obvious that ill-nature did not 
guide his pencil. His end is always reformation, and 
his reproofs general. Except in the print of the 
‘Times,’ and the two portraits of Mr. Wilkes and Mr. 
Churchill, that followed, no man, amidst such a pro- 
fusion of characteristic faces, ever pretended to discover 
or charge him with the caricature of a real person; ex- 
cept a few notorious characters who are acting officially 
and suitably to their professions. As he must have ob- 
served so carefully the operation of the passions on the 
countenance, it is even wonderful that he never, though 
without intention, delivered the very features of any 
identical person. It is at the same time a proof of his 
intimate intuition into nature. It is another procf that 
he drew all his stores from nature, and the force of his 
own genius, and was indebted neither to models nor 
books for his style, thoughts, or hints; and that he never 
succeeded when he designed for the works of other men. 
He could not bend his talents to think after any body 
He could think like a great genius, rather than 
after one. I have a sketch in oil that he gave me, 
which he intended to engrave ; it was done at the time 
that the House of Commons appointed a committee to 
inquire.into the cruelties exercised’on prisoners is the 
Fleet, to extort money from them. The scene in the 
committee; on the table are the instruments of torture. 
A prisoner in rags, half-starved, appears before them ; 
the poor man has a good countenance, that adds to the 
interest. On the other hand is the inhuman gaoler. 
It is the very figure that Salvator Rosa would have 
drawn for Iago in the moment of detection. Villany, 
fear, and conscience are mixed in yellow and livid on 
his countenance; his lips are contracted by tremor, his 
face advances as eager to lie, his legs step back as 
thinking to make his escape; one hand is thrust preci- 
pitately into his bosom, the fingers of the other are 
catching uncertainly at his button-holes. If this was a 
portrait, it is the most speaking that ever was drawn ; 
if it was not, it is still finer. 

_ “It is seldom that his figures do not express the cha- 
racter he intended to give them. When they wanted 
an illustration that colours could not bestow, colliteral 
circumstances, full of wit, supply notes. 'Phe nobleman 
in * Marriage a-la- Mode’ has a ereat air; the coronet on 
his crutches, and his pedigree issuing out of the bowels 
of William the Conqueror, add to his character. In 
the Breakfast, the old steward reflects for the spectator. 


‘Sometimes a short label is an epigram, and is never 


introduced without improving the subject. Untor- 
tunately, some circumstances that were temporary, will 


‘| be lost to posterity, the fate of all comic authors; and 


216 


if ever an author wanted a commentary, that none of 
his beauties might be lost, it is Hogarth—not from 
being obscure (for he never was that but in two or 
three of his first prints, where transient national follies, 
as lotteries, free-masonry, and the South-sea, were his 
topics), but for the use of foreigners, and from a mul- 
tiplicity of little incidents, not essential to, but always 
heightening, the principal action. Such is the spider’s 
web extended over the poors’ box in a parish church; 
the blunders in architecture in the nobleman’s seat seen 
through the window, in the first print of ‘ Marriage-a-la- 
mode ;’ and a thousand in the ‘Strollers dressing in a 
Barn.’ The ‘Scenes of Bedlam’ and the ‘Gaming-house’ 
are inimitable representations of our serious follies or 
unavoidable woes; and the concern shown by the Lord 
Mayor, when the companion of his childhood is brought 
before him as a criminal, is a touching picture, and big 
with humane admonition and reflection. 

“Tt may appear singular, that of an author whom I 
call comic, and who is so celebrated for his humour, I 
should speak in general in so serious a style; but it 
would be suppressing the merits of his heart to con- 
sider him only as a promoter of laughter. I think I 
have shown that his views were more generous and 
extensive. Mirth coloured his pictures, but benevolence 
designed them. He smiled like Socrates, that men 
might not be offended at his lectures, and might learn 
to laugh at their own follies. When his topics were 
harmless, all his touches were marked with pleasantry 
and fun. He never laughed, like Rabelais, at nonsense 


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“ Well done, thou good and faithful servant; thou hast been faithful over a few things; I will make thee ruler over many things,"—atthew, xxv., 2le, 


one of his works. 


[May 31, 1834, 


that he imposed for wit; but, like Swift, combined 
incidents that divert one from their unexpected ei- 
counter, and illustrate the tale he means to tell. ‘The 
manners or costume are more than observed in every 
The very furniture of his rooms 
describe the characters of the persons to whom they 
belong,—a lesson that might be of use to comic authors. 
It was reserved to Hogarth to write a scene of furniture. 
The rake’s levee-room, the nobleman’s dining-room, the 
apartments of the husband and wife in ‘ Marriage-a-la- 
Mode,’ the alderman’s parlour, the poet’s bed-chamber, 
and many other, are the history of the manners of the 
age.” 


In the next Supplement we shall give the completion 
of the series of ‘ Industry and Idleness,’ as far as we 
purpose to engrave these prints. There were origin- 
ally twelve: we shall omit four. The progress of the 
story will not be interrupted by these omissions, for the 
main design will be sufficiently made ont without this 
portion of the series. The prints which we shall publish 
in the next Number are the following :— 

* The Idle Apprentice sent to Sea.’ 

‘The Industrious Apprentice married to his 
Daughter,’ 

‘The Idle Apprentice betrayed by a Profligate 
Associate, and apprehended for Murder.’ 

‘The Idle Apprentice committed for Trial by the 
Industrious Apprentice, who has become a Magistrate 
of London.’ 


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04° The Office pf the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields.’ 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 


Printed by Wittran Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY } 





OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 








PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[JuNnE 7, 1834. 





THE LOTUS. 


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(The Egyptian Lotus.] | | iy. 


Tuere have perhaps been few botanic names so vari- 
ously applied as that of lotus; nor are there niany 
plants of which so much has been written. The Greeks 
and Romans seem to have mentioned so many different 


plants by the name, that it.is not always easy to make 


out which of ‘the number they are on any particular 
occasion describing.’ ‘The name comes to us'in Greek 
characters, and hence some persons have taken the 
trouble to try to find a meaning for it in that language, 
without considering that Herodotus, who himself calls 
it a species of lily, say that lofos is the Eeyptian name 
(ii. chap. 92). When Herodotus speaks of the tree 
lotus, he calls it. the Cyrenean Lotus (1.96). With 
rerard to its ‘extended application, the truth seems to 
be that at various times, and in various languages and 
nations, it’ has been applied to some plant of eminent 
use to man. The first mention of the name is by 
Homer, who speaks of a mild ‘hospitable race of men 
whom he -calls Lotophagi (lotus-eaters), because they 
entirely subsisted on the berry of the lotus, which had 
the power of making strangers who ate it forget their 
native country and distant friends. This plant is now 
generally considered to be the rhamnus lotus of Linneus, 
which is a thorny shrub growing on the northern coast 
of Africa, and elsewhere on that continent, and pro- 
ducing a farinaceous berry about the size of an olive; 
which, being pounded in a wooden vessel and afterwards 
dried in the sun, is made into sweet cakes, in colour 
and flavour resembling gingerbread. The natives of 


Vou. III, 


the countries through which Mungo Park travelled 
esteem it highly, and in some places they prepare from 
ita sweet beverage. wee 

The name of dotus has also been given to the 
cyamus, or-sacred bean of India. In the ancient Hin- 
doo system this aquatic plant was the attribute of Ganga, 
the goddess of the Ganges ; and, more generally, was 
an emblem of the great re-productive powers of the 
world, on’ which account it was held in religious ve- 
neration. The following account of the matter from 
the .‘ Sheeve Purana,’ one of the sacred books of the 
Hindoos,’ may amuse our ‘readers, though it may not 
afford them much edification. Bramah, one of the 
chief deities, is made to give this account of his origin. 
When Vishnu was about to create the world, he pro- 
duced a lotus several. thousand miles’ long, from the 
unfolded flower of which proceeded Bramah. He re- 
flected, with much amazement, who he was and whence 
he came, and at last concluded that the lotus-flower 
was his author. He therefore travelled downward a 
hundred years in hope to reach the root; but, seeing 
no end of his journey, he turned abont, and travelled 
upward another century without reaching the end of 
this immense .plant. At last Vishnu was seen, and, a 
quarrel ensuing, the two gods were going to fight, 
when Siva appeared and prevented the combat. Vishnu 
then, in the shape of a boar, travelled down the lotus a 
thousand years till he came to Patal; and Bramah 
wandered upwards, in the form of a goose, until he 


218 


came to the world above. This fable not only accounts 
for the origin of the veneration paid to the lotus in India, 
but affords a fair average specimen of the Hindoo my- 
thological systein. Some writers have thought that 
Pythagoras, who 1s said to have travelled in India, 
referred to this plant when he commanded his follow- 
ers to abstain from beans; and that, as the cyamus did 
not grow in Greece, he adopted the common bean as its 
representative. 

The Egyptian lotus is mentioned in the following 
terms by the ancient Greek writers, Herodotus and 
Theophrastus. The former says—"* The Egyptians, 
who live in the marshy erounds, make use of the fol- 
lowing expedient to procure themselves more easily the 
means of subsistence. When the waters have risen to 
their extreme height, and all their fields are overflowed, 
there appears above the surface an Immense quantity 
of plants of the lily species, which the Egyptians call 


the Lotos, and which they cut down and dry in the sun. | 


The seed of the flower, which resembles that of the 
poppy, they bake, and make into a kind of bread ; they 
also eat the root of this plant, which is round, of an 
acreeable flavour, and about the size of anapple.” The 
same plant is thus described by Theophrastus :—** ‘I'he 
lotus of Egypt grows in the inundated fields. Its 
flowers are white, and their petals are like those of the 
lily. They grow close to one another in great numbers. 
The flowers close at the setting of the sun, and sink 
below the water; but, when the sun rises, they again 
open and re-appear. This they do daily until the fruit 
is completely formed and the flower has fallen. ‘The 
fruit is equal to that of a large poppy, and contains a 
laree number of grains resembling those of millet.” 
It is singular that neither of these ancient authors 
ascribe a sacred character to the plant, but we learn 
from later sources that it denoted fertility in Egypt as 
in India, being consecrated to Isis and Osiris as an 
emblem of the creation of the world from water; and 
that it was also considered emblematic of the rising of 
the Nile and the return of the sun. This account Is 
confirmed by the frequency of its occurrence in the bas- 
reliefs and paintings in the Egyptian temples, in all 
representations of sacrifices, religious ceremonies, &KC., 
and in tombs, and whatever is connected with death and 
another life. One class of writers, in their anxiety to show 
that the religion and arts of Egypt were derived from 
India, were formerly disposed to contend that the true 
lotus described by Herodotus and Theophrastus was the 
Indian cyamus, which had been introduced-into Egypt, 
together with the superstitions connected with it, but 
had since become quite extinct in that country 5 and this 
position they confirmed, by asserting that the lotus re- 
presented in the Egyptian sculptures was not the Egyp- 
tian nymphea, but the Indian cyamus. But it will be 
perceived that these old Greek writers refer to the 
plant which they describe as one which is common 3 
and M. Delille states in the great work, the ‘ Descrip- 
tion de l’Egypte,’ that the Egyptian lotus agrees as 
nearly as could be expected with the description of 
Herodotus and Theophrastus ; and that the Nymphea 
cerulea, or blue lotus of Egypt, is that which is more 
frequently than any other plant sculptured and painted 
in the Egyptian temples. 

Our wood-cut represents the Egyptian lotus (Nym- 
phea lotus), and the blue lotus (Nymphea cerulea), 
grouped from the work we have just mentioned, from 
which we also obtain the following description of the 
white species, from which the other is chiefly distin- 
muished by the blue colour of its flower. “It grows 
in the ditches and canas of Lower Egypt, and 
varies in size according to the depth of the water. 
The root is nearly a globular tubercle, about fifteen 
lines thick, (more than an inch and a quarter,) and 


covered with a dry, brown, and leathery skin. The | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[June 7, 


leaf-stalks are cylindrical, about as large as the little 
finver, and garnished with five prickles: the length is 
proportionable to the depth of the water; short in rice- 
fields, and low, marshy places, but sometimes five feet 
long in the lakes and canals. ‘The leaf, which ap- 
proaches to a circular shape, with short semi-lunar 
indentations around the circumference, varies from six 
inches to a foot in breadth. The calyx consists of four 
oval leaves; green below, but ruddy at the edges. ‘The 
biossom consists of from sixteen to twenty petals, which 
only differ from the leaves of the calyx in being of a 
white colour, and a little longer in shape. ‘he centre 
of the flower is occupied by a half-globular ovary, to 
which adhere the leaves of the calyx, and the petals 
disposed in several ranks. ‘The stamens, which are 
more numerous than the petals, are inserted in the same 
manner around the ovary; they are straight and half 
as long as the petals, those nearest to the petals being 
the largest. The ovary is crowned by a flat stigina, 
divided into twenty or thirty rays. The fruit is round, 
hollow, soft, and pulpy, and covered with scales, which 
are the remains of the different parts of the flower. 
The divisions of this capsule correspond in number 
with the rays of the stigma, and form so many cells, 
each of which contains a large number of small, round, 
and mealy seeds.” . 

At the present day, the Egyptians make little use 
of either the white or blue species of the lotus. They 
esteem the latter most on account of its beautiful 
flower, which the ancient Egyptians used to make into 
crowns. ‘The local name for both is nawfar ; and the 
white is distinguished as the “ naufar of the hogs,” and 
the blue as the “ naufar of the Arabs.” . 

We cannot better conclude this article than by 
the following beautiful passage from Southey’s * Curse 
of Kehama,’ descriptive of a lake adorned by the 
lotus :-— 

“ Fed by perpetual springs, a small lagoon, 
Pellucid, deep, and still, in silence join’d 

And swell’d the passing stream. Like burnish’d steel, 
Glowing, it lay beneath the eye of noon; 
And when the breezes, in their play, 

Ruffled the darkening surface, then, with gleam 
Of sudden light, around the lotus stem 

It rippled, and the sacred flowers that crown 
‘The lakelet with their roseate beauty, ride, 

In gentlest waving rock’d from side to side ; 

And as the wind upheaves 


Their broad and buoyant weight, the glossy leaves 
Flap on the twinkling waters up and down.” 





STATISTICS OF PARIS. 


Two of the Appendices (Nos. 75 and 76) of the re-. 
cently published ‘ Report on the Commercial Relations 
between France and Great Britain,’ contain some very 
interesting information concerning the annual expen- 
diture of the city of Paris, framed according to infor- 
mation which relates chiefly to the year 1826. We have 
reduced the francs to sterling money for the conve- 
nience of our readers; and, to render the article more 
complete, we have, from other sources, but. equally 
drawn from official documents, prefixed the statistics 
of population and some other details, all of which refer 
to the same year, the estimated expenditure of which 
will be then given from the Report. We have occa- 
sionally stated the grounds on which the particular 
estimates are formed; and may generally mention that, 
from the great attention which has been given to sta- 
tistics at Paris, the returns from thence claim the 
utmost reliance. It is our earnest hope that the sense 
which begins to be entertained in this country of the 
importanve and value of statistical facts will ere long 
produce similar information of equal accuracy concern- 
ing our own metropolis and the country at large ; an? 
that we shall not much longer be obliged to conter ; 





1834.] 


ourseives with uncertain guesses and possible approxi- 


mations. 

Lhe City.—Twenty-eight highways (routes royales) 
conduct to the capital, in which there are 1098 streets ; 
33 cross-ways; 134 passages; 27 alleys; 119 alleys, 
not thoroughfares; 22 courts; 7 closes; 10 piazzas 
(cloitres) ; 22 bouvelards; 75 squares; 47 markets; 
60 barriers ; 49 quays; 8 wharfs ; and 26,862 houses, 

Population.—The last census, previously to 1826, 
was in 1817. According to the calculation of the births 
and deaths between that period and 1826, the capital, 
in the latter year, contained 890,905 inhabitants *, 
being 176,939 more than when the census was taken. 
These numbers include 474 inmates of the hospitals, 
who belong to the suburbs or departments; but it 
apples solely to the inhabitants properly so called, 
independently of strangers, not domiciliated, and troops, 
which are continually varying. The number of births in 
Paris, in. 1826, was 29,970 ; marriages, 7755 ; deaths, 
29,041. Of the 29,970 children born, 10,502 were ille- 
gitimate; of whom 3366 were acknowledged by their 
fathers. Of the 25,341 deaths, 15,647 persons died at 
their own houses; 8669 in the hospitals; 643 in the 
military hospitals; 50 in the prisons; and the number 
of bodies deposited in the course of the year at the 
Morgue +, was 332. The number of accidental and 
violent deaths was 859, (636 male and 223 femaie,) 
including 357 suicides, 8 murdered, 2 executed. ‘The 
number of suicides, attempted and accomplished, was 
911, composed of 333 men and 178 women. ‘The 
number of deaths by the small-pox was 240; and the 
number of children gratuitously vaccinated was 3047. 

Occupations.—Of the 890,905 inhabitants of Paris, 
in 1826, 430 were high functionaries ; 450 members of 
the judicial department ; 1140 members of the Institute 
aud of the University; 18,460 clerks; 47,000 students 
and scholars; 366,000 persons living on their income, 
or engaged in manufactures or trades; 348,000 work- 
men or labourers ; 90,000 servants ; 77,220 paupers ; 
13,700 sick, infirm, and aged, in the hospitals; 19,858 
foundlings ; nearly 300 persons belonging to the police ; 
400 advocates; 114 notaries; 150 attorneys; 200 
bailiffs ; 150 lottery-clerks; 300 actors and actresses ; 
200 dancers, singers, &c.; 310 musicians; 1200 
dancing-masters, music-masters, &c.; 1000 physicians, 
surgeons, and apothecaries ; 500 painters and sculptors ; 
600 printers and engravers; 1257 priests and nuns; 
47,000 widows; 74 bankers; 1671 clerks, &c., of the 
Post-office ; 500 commercial agents, &c. ; 38,000 shop- 
Keepers ; 12,000 door porters ; 500 drivers of diligences 
and mail-coaches; and 4000 prisoners. : 

_ Lxpenditure—Now proceeding to the Report, we 
find the expenditure of this great body of people stated 
as follows —-The taxes and other general expenses, 
common to all the inhabitants, amiounts to 4,714,651. ; 
or 5/1. 7s. 8d. for each person. ‘The items which con- 
stitute this large sum are not mentioned in the Report, 
but in ‘ Galignani’s New Paris Guide’ the following 
statement is supplied with a reference to the same year, 
and from manifestly the same official sources which the 
compilers of the Report employed. Registers, domains, 
stamps, and morteages, 977,073/.; indirect taxes, 
981,206/.; direct taxes, 941,249/. ; postage, 231,154. ; 
lotteries, 328,027/.; customs, (salt not included,) 
17,7561. ; authorized gaming-houses, 435,416/.; pro- 
ceedings in criminal cases, 9845/.; escorte (2?) 32461. ; 
verification of weights and measures, 10,913/.; seal 
duty, 7914/.; interest of securities, 31,6667. ; drawback 
on salaries, 117,071/. ; substitutes for recruits, 86291. ; 
patents, 9430/.; funeral ceremonies, and chairs in 


* At a later period, in 1829, the population of Paris was esti- 
mated at 1,013,000. 
... ft A place where persons found dead are deposited to be owned 
bv their friends, . ; = | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


219 
churches, 39,583/.; interments, 39,5831. ; university 
expenses, 31,666/.; one-tenth of the expense of the 
Royal Printing-office, 9895/.; profit of the Bank of 
France, 288,958/.; seizures at the barriers, 3166/.; 
city budget, 197,916/.; total, under the head of taxes, 
&c., as given above, 4,714,651/, | , 

We now return to the Report, and derive from it all 
our subsequent, information on the subject of expendi- 
ture. Rent, 3,166,666/.; or 72s. for each inhabitant. 
Annual maintenance and repairs of houses, 791,666. ; 
or 18s, for each person. Food, 12,221,.1501.; or 131. 
19s, for each. The several items of expense under this 
principal and interesting head are enumerated in the 
Appendix, No. 76, from which we are glad to obtain 
the ensuing details. Corn. The expenditure on food 
made from corn.amounts to 19 per. cent. of the whole 
expenditure on food ; and consists of bread, 2,091 ,4761., 
or 46s. 5d., for each person; flour, various uses, 
pastry; &c., 144,666/., or 3s. 4d. for each; maccaroni, 
fecula, grits, &c., 72,833/., or ls. 8d. for each. 
Meat of all kinds, 22 per cent. of the whole, being 
2,712,567/., or 62s. for each person. Poultry and 
Game, 3 per cent. of the whole; being 363,6351., or 
8s. 4d. for each inhabitant. ish, also 3 per cent. of 
the whole; being, for river or fresh-water fish, 24,34 21.; 
or 64d. for each person. Oysters, and other shell-fish, 
36,539/,, or 10d, for each; fresh sea fish, 176,2841., 
or 4s. for each; salted sea fish, estimated at half the 
fresh sea fish, 88,142/., or 2s. for each. ggs, and 
the various forms of Milk :—7 per cent. of the whole 
expense for food, thus distributed; fresh and melted 
butter, 378,535/., or 8s. 8d.- for each inhabitant; egos, 
189,049/., or 4s. 3¢d. for each person; milk, whey, 
cream, and new cheese, 339,071/., or 7s. 9d. for each 
person. Vegetables and Fruit, fresh and dried, esti- 
mated at one-fifth of the meat, 542,512/., or 12s. 5d. 
for each inhabitant, being 5 per cent. of the whole 
expenditure for food. Various Articles, torether amount- 
ing to 2 per cent. of the whole expense, thus :—Salt, 
71,922/., or 1s. 7$d. for each inhabitant ; dry cheese, 
68,280/., or ls. 62d. for each; olive oil, 71,250/., or 
ls. 74d. for each; vinegar, 59,375/., or 1s. 4d. for each. 
Liquors :—these form 27 per cent. of the whole expendi- 
ture for food, and are thus described :—brandy and 
cordials, 435,416/., or 9s. 10d. for each inhabitant ; 
wine, 2,701,611/., or 61s. 6d. for each; cider and 
perry, 10,885/., or 3d. for each; beer, barley, and hops, 
201,875/., or 4s. 10gd. for each inhabitant. Colonial 
Produce:—the expenditure on this class of articles 
amounts to 11 per cent. of the whole. ‘The following 
ure the details:—Sugar, and its various applications, 
865,885l., or 19s. 9d. for each inhabitant. Coffee, 
346,3531., or 7s. Lld. for each; tea and cocoa, estimated 
at one-tenth of the coffee, 34,635/., or 94d. for each; 
spices, honey, &c., estimated at one-tenth of the sugar, 
86,588/., or 2s. for each person. Water, one per 
cent. of the whole; being 164,192/., or 3s. 9d. for each 
inhabitant. ‘The total of these various sums expended 
on articles of food is as before given from Appendix 
No. 75, to which we now return. | 

The expenditure on Clothing is estimated at one-fifth 
of that on food, and amounts to 2,444,2301., or 55s. 4d. 
for each inhabitant. Fel, |,674,3751., or 38s. 3d. each. 
Lighting, calculated according to the entries of oil, 
tallow, wax, candles, and the cost of 9000 tubes of gas 
at 62s. each, 689,580/., or 15s. 8d. for one person. 
Washing, 1,246,575/., being 28s: 6d. for each person. 
Furniture, renewals and repairs, estimating the aunual 
expenses at one-fifth of the value of the furniture, 
2,355,900/., or 53s. 10d. for each inhabitant. Servants 
and Salaries :—this item estimates that there are 40,000 
male. and 50,000 female servants of all kinds; 4000 
male and 6000 female assistants, scrubbers, sick nurses, 
&e,; and 15,000 sempstresses ; > ee at 


220 


131. 19s, average yearly wages or salary, making alto-, 


wether 1,593,227/., or 36s. 5d. for each inhabitant. 
fforses :—this head of expense includes the following 
items :—food, 827,291/.; renewal and purchase of 
4500 horses, at 23/. 15s. each, 106,875/.; shoeing and 
medicine for 21,000 horses, at 72s. 8d. each, 77,3471. : 
total of annual expenditure on horses, 1,010,641/., or 
23s. 3d. for each inhabitant. Carriages and Harness, 
maintenance and renewal:—this head of expense is 
distributed thus :—6000 carts and drays, at 5/. 18s, 9d. 
each, 35,625/.; 2500 private carriages, at 19/. 15s. 10d. 
each, 44,531/.; 5000 cabriolets, &c., at 7/. 8s. 4d. each, 
39,583/.: total expenditure on carriages, &c., 119,739/., 
or 2s. 6d. for one inhabitant. Cost of Conveyance 
within Paris: estimated, by the gains of 1100 hackney 
coaches, at 9s. 6d. a day, 190,712/.; the gains of 1000 
cabriolets, at 7s. lod. a day, 130,0312.; and the gains 
of 400 glass coaches, at 197/. 15s. 4d. a year, 79,1671. ; 
total cost of interior conveyance, 399,9101., or 9s. lid. 
for each inhabitant. Tobacco and Snuff, 225,623/., or 
Qs. lid. for each person. Baths, estimated at two 
river baths and two warm baths per inhabitant, 
110,843/., or 2s. 8id. for each person. Charities in 
general, estimated by the expenses of hospitals and 
asylums, 395,833/., or 9s. for each inhabitant. Pre- 
sents, calculated at 4s. per family, average for 30,000 
families, 59,375/., or Is. 6d. for each inhabitant. 
Theatres and Exhibitions, estimated according to the 
tax levied upon the produce for the benefit of the poor, 
245,417/., or 5s. 7¢d. for each inhabitant. Lyings-in 
Charges. The births being reckoned at 29,000 yearly, 
the lyings-in are thus classified :—6500 are at hospitals, 
or by assistance rendered at residences; the expenses 


of the remainder are thus cstimated :—7500 at about | 


12s. each, 4,453¢.; 10,000/. at 31s. Sd. each, 15,8327, ; 
and 5000 at 57s. each, 14,250/.; total expenditure 
on lyings-in, 34,536/.; or 94$d. to each inhabitant. 
Nursings. Of the 29,000 children born in the year, it 
is estimated that 5000 are nursed at the charge of the 
asylums ; 9000 at a cost of about 80s., and 12,000 at 
7l. 18s. 4d.; which, leaving out of account 3000 
children successively dead, makes a total of 130,264/. 
on this head of charge; or 2s, 11d. for each inhabitant. 
Medical Aid. It is estimated that 74,000 persons, or 
one-twelfth of the population, are sick at the expense 
of 2zd.a day for drugs and medicines, making 267,1802. 
m the year, with a further sum of 133,590/., estimated 
at onc-half of the price of the medicines, paid in fees to 
physicians and surgeons: total expenses for medical 
assistance, 400,782/., or 9s. for each inhabitant. Vews- 
papers, &c., cost of subscription :—380,000 subscribers 
to the daily papers, at 55s. 5d. each, 83,125/5; sub- 
scriptions to reading-rooms, and to domestic and foreign 
periodicals, 35,625/.; total 118,750/., or 2s. Sid. for 
each inhabitant. Thus the total amount of the annual 
expenditure of the city of Paris, on the objects of 
expense which have been enumerated, in the year to 
which the statement refers, was 35,388,774/. ; which 
gives 40/, 8s. as the average annual expenditure of each 
inhabitant. 


Patronage.—The Sciences, after a thousand indignities, 
retired from the palace of Patronage, and having long 
wandered over the world in grief and distress, were led at 
last to the cottage of Independence, the daughter of Forti- 
tude, where they were taught by Prudence and Parsimony 
to support themselves in dignity and quiet.—Raméler, 
No. XC. 

To solicit Patronage is, at least in the event, to set virtue 
to sale. : None can be pleased without praise, and few can 
be praised without falsehood; few can be assiduous without 
servility, and none can be servile without corruption.— 
Rambler, No. CIV. 


Chance 1s but a mere name, and really nothing in itself; 
a conception of our minds, and only a compendious way of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[June 7, 


speaking, whereby we would express, that such effects as 
are commonly attributed to chance, were verily produced by 
their true and proper causes, but without their design to 
produce them.— Bentley. 


STRIKING MACHINERY OF CLOCKS. 
Tuat part of the mechanism of a clock which causes 
the hands to move round on the dial is slow but con- 
stant in its action, while that by which the striking is 
effected operates only at intervals, and then with a 
comparatively rapid motion. The moving powers of 
these parts must, therefore, be quite distinct from each 
other, though, at the moment of striking the hour, they 
have a temporary connexion. A weight or spring, witl: 
a cord wound round a barrel, is in this, as in the other 
part, the first mover: by a wheel with teeth fixed to 
this barrel, a whole train of wheels is set in motion, each 
wheel revolving more rapidly as it is more distant from 
the first mover. The last wheel,—which runs round 
perhaps fifty or sixty times in a secoud,—is prevented 
from too rapid a motion by a broad thin piece of brass 
fixed to it, called a fly or fan, which catches the air in 
its revolutions. Upon 
one of the wheels 
I, nearest the barrel, 
a number of pegs or 
pins (a) are fixed, 
which, when the 
wheel revolves, raise 
the tail of the hammer 
A B, and draw the 
hammer back from 
the bell D. As the 
wheel E (which is 
called the pin-wheel ) 
continues to turn, 
the pin passes thie 
hammer-tail, which 
is forced down again 
by the spring C, 
and in consequence 
the hammer returns 
and strikes the bell. In the figure, the wheel has six pins, 
and while it revolves once, the clock strikes six times. 
Thus far the clock is capable of striking; but, when 
wound up, it will continue to strike perhaps three or four 
hundred strokes until the weight comes to the ground. 
The question is now to make it strike but once an hour, 
and then only the number of strokes required. This is 
generally effected in foreign clocks, and sometimes in 
Iinglish ones, by a piece of mechanism called a striking- 
plate, which is a circle divided into unequal portions by 
notches on its circumference, as in the annexed figure, 





b Cc e d é 


k 
[The Striking-P]ste.] 
The principle on which this circle is notched is this: 
—if we imagine it to be divided into seventy-eight equal 
parts, the distance from @ to 86 will be one of those 


1934,] 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


parts; freim b to c, two; from c to d, three; and so on | 


to twelve, making seventy-eight in all. The two first 
notches in the figure, as in practice, are blended together. 
This plate must be attached to a wheel with seventy- 
eight teeth, working in a pinion of six teeth, attached to 
the pin-wheel, by which combination, while the striking- 
plate advances 7;th of its circumference, as fronl 
a to 6, the pin-wheel will advance one-sixth of its cir- 
cumference, one peg will pass the hammer-tail, and the 
clock will strike one; while the plate goes from 6 to ¢, 
the clock will strike two, and so of all the rest. ‘The 
object is then to make the striking-plate move on once 
an hour frem notch to notch, and to remain motionless 
in the intervals. It has been seen that the tendency of 
the striking mechanism is to continue running rapidly 
until itis down. ‘To prevent this continued motion, a 
little pin is fixed im one of the wheels, which runs round 
six or eight times each stroke ; this pin rests against a 
small stud of metal, which keeps the clock still: if the 
stud be raised, the pin passes by, the clock strikes, and 
will continue to do so until the stud returns to its 
former place. In order to effect this removal, and re- 
turn at the proper intervals, recourse is had to that part 
of the clock whicn is always going on. 

Lhe following figure will explain one mode, among 
many, of effecting this :— 





G is a wheel which runs round several times at each 
stroke of the clock; H another wheel which goes 
round once in the same time. The wheel H has a 
notch in its circumference, in which a pallet, I, fixed to 
a lever, D E, rests; so that the clock is kept from 
striking both by the pallet in this notch, and by the 
piece of metal IE, behind the wheel G, (shown by dots 
in the figure) which holds the pin in the wheel. AB 
C is a bent lever, one end of which hangs down in 
front of the hour-wheel K, in which is fixed a pin, L, 
which every hour pushes forward the lever A, raises 
the end C, and with it the end E, of the lever D E, 
by the help of the pin F, fixed in it. The lifting up 
of this lever disengages, at the same moment, the two 
wheels G and H. The striking machinery begins to 
run, but only for a moment, as the pin, after a single 
turn of the wheel G, is caught upon the end of the 
lever B C, which is now raised; this produces a slight 
noise called the warning, which is heard a minute or 
two before the clock strikes. The actual striking does 
not take place until the peg L of the hour-wheel K 


221 


has quite passed by the lever A, when immediately C 
falls down again. ‘The lever D E, which was lifted by 
the rising of B C, does not now fall, because the pallet 
I rests upon the wheel H, instead of falling into the 
notch, which advanced a little when the warning was 
given. The two wheels therefore run round, the clock 
strikes one, and as soon as the notch in the wheel H 
comes round again, the lever D E falls into it, catches 
the pin in the wheel G, and the striking stops. 

If there were no other mechanism than this, the 
clock would strike one stroke every hour, instead of the 
proper number. Here the striking-plate is called into 
action, though not inserted in the figure, to avoid 
crowding. Attached to the lever D E is a pallet which 
we will call M, resting in a notch of the striking-plate 
at a, for example, when it is Just one o’clock. The 
clock strikes one, as before described, the striking-plate 
advances -;th of its circumference, and the pallet M is 
now at 6. When two o'clock arrives, the same process 
is repeated ; but the pallet M, which was lifted up, is 
now resting upon that part of the circumference of the 
striking-plate between 6 and c, and will not allow the 
pallet I to fall into the notch of the wheel H, until 
it falls itself into the notch ec of the striking-plate, 
when the clock will have struck two. The next hour 
the clock will strike three, because the distance from c 
to d is equal to -4;ths of the circumference of the plate; 
the next hour it will strike four, and so on to twelve, 
when the same routine will begin again. 

There are many variations of this mode of action, 
but the principle is the same in all. The striking- 
plate is subject to a capital defect ; it can only strike 
the hours in succession. If, for example, the clock 
stops at midnight, after having struck twelve, and 
is set on again at nine o'clock in the morning, and 
the hands be put on quickly, the clock will strike 
one instead of nine, two instead of ten, and will 
continue to strike wrong afterwards. It is usual in 
such cases to set on the clock: first to one o'clock, 
and wait until it has struck; ten to two, and wait 
again; then to three, four, until nine. To obviate 
the necessity of so tedious an operation, another piece 
of mechanism is generally used in England, and also 
in some foreign clocks, called the rack and snail, which 
is equally simple with the striking-plate, not more 
liable to be out of order, and which always strikes the 
hour pointed out by the hands. In this plan, a plate 
of brass, A, called, from its shape, the snail, is fixed to 
the hour-wheel, and turns with it. The snail is made 
on this principle: the circumference of the plate, out of 
which it was cut, is shown by the dotted line: this cir- 
cumference is divided into twelve equal parts by lines 
drawn to the centre: where the snail is marked l,a 
portion of the circumference is cut away to a certain 
depth; at 2, twice as much is cut away; at 3, three 
times as much; and in the same way to twelve. Close 
by the snail, but not touching it, is the rack BC DE, 
moveable on the pivot C, and pressed upwards by the 
spring F; it is, however, prevented from rising higher 
than the dotted line in the figure by a pallet, O, in 
the lever MN: butif the lever MN should be raised 
high enough to be quite out of the tooth of the rack, 
the spring would force the rack towards the left hand, 
until the point B reached the snail, and it would of 
course rise higher as more of the plate had been cut 
away. The teeth of the rack are so cut, that, when the 
snail is in the position shown in the figure, four teeth 
pass the pallet ; if number 12 were in the same place, 
twelve teeth would pass, and so of any other number. 
The wheel-work is in this clock similar to that in which 
the striking-plate is used: on the wheel which turns 
once every stroke, a piece of metal, H, is fixed, called 
the gathering pallet, which runs round with it, in the 
direction of the arrow within the dotted circle. The 


222 


Pallet is kept from turning by the pin D, but when 
the tack falls towards the left hand, it is left at liberty. 





[I K L is a bent lever, the end I of which is pressed 
once every hour by a pin in the wheel G, and at the 
Same time the end L rises, lifts the lever N, liberates 
the rack, and allows the pallet H to run round. This 
makes the warning; but the clock does not strike 
immediately, because in some part of the lever M N 
there is fixed a stud of brass, P, which im rising calls 
into the way of the pin on the wheel Q, which runs 
round six or eight times every stroke ; consequently, 
before the clock can strike, this obstacle must be re- 
moved. Jn a minute or two the wheel G will have so 
far advanced that the pin will pass the lever I, and, 
except the rack which has receded, all things -will 
return to their former place. ‘The clock is therefore 
free to strike. As the pallet H turns once with every 
stroke, its pomt catches one tooth of the rack, and 
brings it towards the right hand, where it is held by the 
click O until the next stroke, when it still farther 
advanced towards its original place. When all the 
teeth are gathered up, the peg D, will prevent the 
pallet from turning farther, and the clock rests. In 
this manner, whether the clock be set forwards or 
backwards, the number struck will always be that 
denoted by the hour-hand,—if care be taken, in the 
first place, so to set the hand on its pivot, that the 
number pointed out may be that which corresponds 
with the portion of the snail presented to the lever B. . 


SALT-WATER LAKE IN INDIA. 


Tux following is the substance of an account of a salt- 
water lake in the heart of the Mahratta country, which 
was furnished to a correspondent by two of the Bey- 
parrees, or merchants, who trade in the salt which it 
produces, and take it on bullocks to Mirzapore, a 
distance of 600 British miles. On account of the 
distance, the same persons only make their appearance 
at Mirzapore, in large bodies and with their families, 
every other year; and when overtaken by the rainy 
season, on their return, they form encampments and 
remain stationary. - i ns 

_“ Samber ka Sarhoond,” that is, the Sea of Samber, 
is estimated to be about sixteen miles square; and its 


depth gradually increases from the shore towards the | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


about two or three perpendicular feet every year. 


[JUNE 7, 


centre, where it is about four or five fathoms. In the 
middle of this lake there rises an island of an entire 
solid rock, and about one-third of an acre in circum- 
ference, and thirty or forty yards high, by computation, 
above the surface of the water. In the middle of this 
rock there is a cleft or natural well of clear and perfectly 
fresh spring water, the surface of which is about twenty- 
five or thirty yards from the top of the rock, and which 
is supposed to be of an equal depth; yet the water of 
the lake itself is extremely salt. As near every natural 
curiosity a Brahmin or Fakeer establishes himself to 
receive the charitable donations of visiters, and some- 
times a temple or oratory is erected in the vicinity, so, 
in the present instance, there is, on the summit of the 
rock, a small Hindoo temple, built of stone, to which 
both Moslems and Hindoos, who are concerned in the 
salt trade, resort to perform their devotions, maintain- 
ing that unless such duty were rendered, the produce of 
the lake would cease. ‘The place is inhabited by a 
Brahmin. ‘The lake is said to be only supplied in the 
rainy season by small rivulets, at other times dry, and 
by the drainings of the surrounding flat country. It 
has no apparent outlet, but is reduced by evaporation 
It is 
situated’ about 240 miles west of Seronge, half in the 
Jeypore and half in the Jadepore rajah’s country; and 
the value of its produce, or the salt made at Samber, 
on the eastern side, is estimated at 30,000/. a year, 
which is divided between the two rajahs*. The follow- 
ing is the process by which the sait is obtained at this 
place. 

When the lake has been replenished by the rains, the 
water is let into tanks from eighty to one hundred feet 
long, by twenty or thirty wide, with a depth of three or 
four feet. It is then left to evaporate until April or 
May, when the sediment is collected into cloths; and 
after the sand and earthy particles have been washed 
away with the lake water, the whole is thrown into one 
vast heap, which soon hardens to a rocky substance of 
such compact solidity, that the quantity which is not 
sold or taken away suffers little or no loss from exposure 
to the heavy rains of the ensuing season. 

At Nama, on the western shore of the lake, in the 
Jadepore rajah’s country, the salt is made on his sole 
account in the following manner:—The beach being 
rather flat, hard, and sandy, is left by the evaporation 
of the water, for about half or three-quarters of a mile 
in breadth, with a dry incrustation of salt, which is 
scraped up, washed and heaped as at Samber, where 
none is collected in this manner, as more laborious and 
less productive than the mode in use, as the bank is 
there so steep that not more than eight or ten feet is left 
dry.. About sixty coss west of Samber (about 69 English 
miles) there is a village called Putchbudra, near an ex- 
tensive plain. Here there are four or five hundred tanks, 
or salt-pans, similar to those at Samber, which, before 
the rainy season sets in, are filled with the Joassee 
plants, which grow in the neighbouring jungles to the 
height of four or five feet, and to the thickness of two or 
three inches near the root. These are left to be covered 
by the water which drains in from the plain during the 
rainy season. ‘Two or three months after, when this 
water has evaporated to about one-third or more from 
the surface, about eighteen inches of fine salt is left, in 
which all but the stalks or the main stem of the Joassee 
is dissolved or incorporated. ‘This is shovelled out to the 
depth of six or eight inches, when, becoming thinner 
from the water remaining’, the rest is left to serve for 
seed, as it were, for reproduction the ensuing year. It 
is evidently left with such a design, as it is shortly after 
dried by the heat, and might be taken out with ease. 

* © March 20, 1799, Ghazeepore;” is the date of our corre- 


spondent’s information. Things are much altered in India since 
this time, | 


ee ee wt 


1834.] | 


_ Never too late.—Some persons, whose minds have not 
been properly cultivated in early life, are in more advanced 
age discouraged from attempting to supply the defect by 
the notion that the susceptibility of culture is very much 
impaired, if not altogether lost, and the power of deriving 
he from such sources infinitely less than in youth. 
o doubt the faculties have wasted for want of being em- 

ployed; but it is equally certain that the period of life must 
be very advanced indeed at which they may not be quick- 
ened to use and polished to brightness ; and, for the enjoy- 
ment, we shall quote Dugald Stewart, who, in one of his 
‘ Essays,’ says,—‘‘ In such men, what an accession is gained 
to their most refined pleasures! What enchantments are 
added to their most ordinary perceptions! ‘The mind 
awakening, as if from a trance, to a new existence, becomes 
habituated to the most interesting aspects of life and nature 
—the intellectual eye is ‘ purged of its film ’—and things 
the most familiar and unnoticed disclose charms invisible 
before. The same objects and events which were lately 
beheld with indifference, occupy now all the capacities and 
powers of the soul; the contrast between the present and 
the past serving only to enhance and to endear so vmlooked- 
for an acquisition. What Gray has so finely said of the 
pleasures of vicissitude, conveys but a faint image of what 
is experienced by the man who, after having lost in vulgar 
occupation and vulgar amusements his earliest and most 
precious years, is thus introduced at last to a new heaven 
and a new earth :— , 

‘The meanest floweret of the vale, 

The simplest note that swells the gale, 

The common sun, the air, the skies, 

Lo him are opening Paradise.’ ” 


Effect of Chagrin.—Guarino Veronese, ancestor of the 
author of the ‘ Pastor Fido,’ having studied Greek at 
Constantinople, brought from thence on his return two 
cases of Greek manuscripts, the fruit of his indefatigable 
researches ; one of these being lost at sea, on the shipwreck 
of the vessel, the chagrin at losing such a literary treasure, 
acquired by so much labour, had the effect of turning the 
hair of Guarino grey in one night.—Sismond.. 


Snow Houses.—The winter habitations of the Esquimaux 
who visit Churchill are built of snow, and, judging from one 
constructed by Augustus to-day, they are very comfortable 
dwellings. Having selected a spot on the river where the 
snow was about two feet deep, and sufficiently compact, he 
commenced by tracing out a circle twelve feet in diameter. 
The snow in the interior of the circle was next divided 
with a broad knife, having a long handle, into slabs three 
feet long, six inches thick, and two deep, being the thick- 
ness to the layer of snow. These slabs were tenacious 
enough to admit of being moved about without breaking, 
or even losing the sharpness of their angles, and they 
had a slight degree of curvature corresponding with that of 
the circle from which they were cut. ‘They were piled upon 
each other, exactly like courses of hewn stone, around the 
circle which was traced out, and care was taken to smooth 
the beds of the different courses with the knife, and to cut 
them so as to give the. wall a slight inclination inwards. 
The dome was closed somewhat suddenly and flatly, by 
cutting the upper slabs in a wedge form, instead of the 
more rectangular shape of those below. The roof was about 
eight feet high, and the last aperture was shut up by a 
small conical piece. ‘The whole was built from within, and 
each slab was cut so that it retained its position without 
requiring support until another was placed beside it, the 
lightness of the slabs greatly facilitating the operation. 
When the building was covered in, a little loose snow was 
thrown over it to close up every chink, and a low door was 
cut through the walls with the knife. A bed-place was 
next formed, and neatly faced up with slabs of snow, which 
was then covered with a thin layer of fine branches, to pre- 
vent them from being melted by the heat of the body. At 
each end of the bed a pillar of snow was erected to place a 
Jamp upon, and lastly, a porch was built before the door, 
and a piece of clear ice was placed in an aperture cut in the 
wall for a window. The purity of the material of which the 
house was framed, the elegance of its construction, and the 
translucency of its walls, which transmitted a very pleasant 
light, gave it an appearance far superior to a marble build- 
ing ; and one might survey it with feelings somewhat akin 


THE PENNY: MAGAZINE: 


ja theatre more worthy of his talents. 
he opened a school, and so far from acknowledging the 


228 


to those produced by the contemplation of a Grecian temple 
raised by Phidias; both are temples of art, inimitable in 
their kinds.—Frankhin's Journey to the Polar Sea. 


SPADA. 


LIoneELLo Spapa, one of the most celebrated painters 
of the school of Bologna, was born at that city, in the, 
year 1576, in a very low condition of life. Whena 
boy, he became the servant of the Caracci, and was 
employed to grind and prepare their colours. The 
constant opportunities le possessed, while with these 
eminent men, of seeing pictures and of hearing con- 
versations on the principles of the art, called forth his 
ambition to become also a painter. This ambition was 


seen and encouraged by his masters, who gave him the 


benefit of their advice and instruction, and ultimately 
admitted him into their academy, where they had the 
satisfaction of seeing him become one of the most 
eminent of their disciples. 

While Lionello was at the school of the Caracci, a 
certain Giovannino of Capugnano, having painted at 
his own village some pictures in fresco, in which the 
men were larger than the houses, the sheep Jarger 
than the men, and the birds larger still than the sheep, 
was so intoxicated with the applause which his per- 
formances obtained from the ignorant villagers, that he 
determined to go to Bologna,—which he considered as 
On his arrival, 


immeasurable superiority of the Caracci, he had the 
impertinence to demand of them a pupil whom he might 
instruct. Spada, who seems to have loved a joke, 
offered himself, and for some time ainused himself by 
copying the drawings of Giovannino, whom he treated 
with all the respect due to a master. But when he felt 
it time to put an end to this pleasantry, he left in thie 
study a fine head of Lucretia, and suspended over the 
door some ironical yerses on the pretender. This person 
complained bitterly of the ingratitude with which Spada 
had thus repaid the rapid progress he had made in 
painting under his instruction ; and the Caracci, to cure 
the man’s folly, were obliged to reveal the whole plot. 

Having diligently studied in the school of his first 
masters, Spada proceeded to Rome, and attached him- 
self to Caravaggio, whom he accompanied to Malta, 
and at last returned to Bologna the possessor of a new 
style, which may be characterized as a mean between 
the manner of the Caracci and that of Caravaggio. 
He is not equal to the greatest painters in the choice 
of forms; but his heads are full of sentiment, and his 
design is always correct, though not always noble. [is 
principal works are the ‘ Miraculous Draught of Fishes,’ 
in the refectory of St. Procolo at Bologna; and ‘ St. 
Dominic burning the Forbidden Books,’ painted for 
the church of that saint in the same city. The last is 
considered as his greatest performance. 

Our wood-cut is taken from the ‘ Musd¢e Francais,’ 
and represents the ‘ Return of the Prodigal Son.’ It 
is considered one of Spada’s finest works. ‘° My 
Father, I have sinned against heaven and against 
thee!” are the touching words we seem to hear in 
considering the picture. The colouring of the figure 
of the son is warm, natural, and full of vigour; the 
arm, countenance, and fore-shortening are designed and 
painted with perfect nature. ‘The action of the father 
is simple and impressive; and the nearly closed eye 
expresses the tenderness of the old man, while his whole 
countenance exhibits compassion and love as strongly 
as that of his son does repentance and hope. 

Spada was eventually called to the court of Parma by 
the Duke Ranuccio, who intrusted to him the charge 
of ornamenting the magnificent theatre which he had 
built in that city, and which at that time had no equal. 
The works which Spada then exeeuted, whether at 


224 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 
Parma or Modena, were in a style completely different 


from those he had. previously painted. It seemed to 
mingle the characteristics of the school of the Caracci 


[June 7, 1834, 


could desire for the deliberate study and leisurely execu- 
tion of his works. His‘ happiness ended with the life 
of his patron; his talents seem then also to have pe- 
with that of Parma. Perhaps the alteration is not an | rished, for all the works he afterwards executed are 
improvement ; at any rate his best works were those | quite unworthy of him. Happily, perhaps, for his 
painted at Bologna, although the liberal patronage of | reputation, he did not long survive the duke, but died 
the Duke Ranuccio afforded him all the opportunity he 


in the year 1622, in the forty-sixth year of his age. 
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Printed by Wittram Crewss, Duke Street, Lambeth, 





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[ Flamingoes. | 


Tin flamingo, although one of the most remarkable of | This bird, with a smailer body than the stork, has the 


the aquatic tribe for its size and appearance, is by no | neck and legs much longer, and indeed there is no 


mesns weli known as regards its habits and manners. | other bird in which they are so disproportionately long. 


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Its length, from the point of the bill to the end of the 
tail, is usually about four feet and two or three inches ; 
but, to the end of the claws, it measures sometimes more 
than six feet ; and, in general, the bird may be described 
as standing about five feet high. The head is small and 
round, and furnished with a bill nearly seven inches 
long, which is higher than it is wide, light and hollow, 
and suddenly curved downwards from the middle. The 
nostrils are linear, and placed in a blackish membrane. 
The end of the bill, as far as the bend, is black; from 
thence to the base, reddish yellow; and round the base, 
quite to the eye, covered with a flesh-coloured mem- 
brane. The neck, as appears in the wood-cut, is 
sleuder and of a great length ;—the tongue is large and 
fleshy, filling the cavity of the bill,—furnished with 
twelve or more hooked papille on each side, turned 
backward; the tip is of a cartilaginous substance. 
The bird, when in full plumage, is wholly of a deep 
scarlet (which is said to be the deepest in those of 
Africa), with the exception of the quills, which are 
black. From the base of the thigh to the claws is 
thirty-two inches, of which the feathcred part takes 
up no more than three inches, the bare part above 
the knee thirteen inches, and from thence to the claws 
sixteen: the colour of the bare parts is red, and the 
toes are furnished with a web, as in the duck genus. 
The long, slender, and delicate legs are described as 
not being straight, but slightly bent, the shin rather 
projecting. 

The young, which never excecd three in number, 
differ greatly from the adults, and undergo many 
chanecs of appearance. They do not gain their full 
plumage until the third year. In the first they are, 
for the most part, of a e@reyish-white colour; in the 
second, they are of a clearer white, tinged with red, or 
rather rose-colour, but the wing's and scapulars are red ; 
and, in the third year, a general glowing scarlet 
manifests itself throughout. The bill and lees also 
keep pace with the gradations of colour in the plumage, 
changing gradually as the bird approaches an adult 
Btate. ’ 

The flamingoes do not commonly appear in Europe. 
They seem«to :prefer a warm latitude, and are ac- 
cordingly found in most of the warmer countries of 
the globe, within forty degrees on each side of the 
equator, occasionally visiting, in summer, the more tem- 
perate regions.. ‘They live and migrate in large flocks, 
frequenting desert coasts and salt marshes. ‘hey are 
extremely shy and watchful. When feeding, they keep 
together, drawn up artificially in lines whicn, at a dis- 
tance, resemble those of an army; and, like many other 
gregarious birds, they employ some to act as sentinels 
for the security of the rest. ‘These sentinels notify 
the approach of danger by a loud noise like that 
of a trumpet, which may be heard to a great distance, 
and is the signal for the flock to take wing. When 
flying, they form a .rianele. ‘The food of the flamingo 
appears to consist of mollusc, spawn, and iisects, 
which they are represented to fish up by turning their 
heads in such a manner as to take advantage of the 
crook in their beak. When at rest, the bird stands on 
one leg, the other being drawn up close to the body, 
with the head placed under the wing on that side of the 
body it stands on. 

he resemblance of a flock of flamingoes while 
feeding to a line of soldiers has already been men- 
tioned ; and we inay now quote from * The Architecture 
of Birds,’ in § The Library of Entertaining Knowledge,’ 
au instance in which they were seriously taken for such. 
‘ During the French revolutionary war, when the 
Enelish were expected to make a,descent upon St. 
Domingo, a negro having perceived at the distance of 
some miles, in the direction of the sea, a long file of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[June 14, 


with magnified them into an army of English soldiers : 
—their long necks were mistaken for shouldered 
muskets, and their scarlet plumage had suggested the 
idea of a military costume. .The poor fellow aceord- 
inely started off to Gonaives, running through the 
streets and vociferating that the English were come. 
Upon this alarm, the commandant of the garrison 
instantly sounded the tocsin, doubled the guards, and 
sent out a body of men to reconnoitre the invaders ; 
but he soon found, by means of his glass, that it was 
only a troop of red flamingoes, and the corps of obser- 
vation marched back to the garrison, rejoicing at their 
bloodless expedition.” 

To the same work we are also indebted for the follow- 
ing account of the mode of incubation among the 
flamingoes :—‘“* The great length of the leas of the 
flamingoes obviously unfits them for sitting or squat- 
ting upon a flat or low nest, as is the practice of the 
families allied to them; and hence, according to 
Linneus, they select for their nests some projecting 
shelf of a rock, upon which they ean sit astride like a 
man on horseback without bending their legs. With- 
out discrediting this account, we subjoin that which 


‘Dampier gives of the flamingoes observed by him at 


Rio de la Hacha, at an island opposite Curacoa, and at 
the Isle of Sal. ‘They make their nests,’ he says, 
‘in the marshes, where they find plenty of slime, which 
they heap with their claws, and form hillocks resembling 
little islets, and which appear a foot and a half above’ 
the water. They make the base broad, arid taper the 
Structure gradually to the top,—where they leave a 
small hollow to receive their eggs. When they lay a 
hatch, they stand erect, not on the top, but very near 
it, their feet on the ground and in the water, leaning 
themselves against the hillock, and covering the nest 
with their tail. ‘Their eggs are very Jong; and, as they 
make their nest on the ground, they could not, without 
injuring their eges or their young, have their legs in 
the nest, nor sit, nor support the whole body, but for 
this wonderful instinct which nature has given them.’ 

** A similar account is furnished by Catesby, who coin- 


‘pares the flamingo sitting across its nest to a man ona 
desk-stool with his legs hanging down. 


Labat, who 
found these birds breeding in multitudes on the coasts 
of Cuba and of the Bahama Islands,—on the deluged 
shores and low islets,—says, ‘I was shown a great 
nuinber of these nests ; they resembled truncated cones, 
composed of fat earth, about eighteen or twenty inches 
high, and as much in diameter at the base. ‘They are 
always in the water; that is, in meres or marshes, 
Their cones are solid to the height of the water, and 
then hollow like a pot; in this they lay two eggs, 
which they hatch by resting on them and covering 
the hole with their tail. I broke some, but found 
neither feathers nor herbs, nor anything that might 
receive the eggs: the bottom is somewhat concave, and 
the sides are very even.’ ” 

Dampier and other travellers speak variously con- 
cerning the flesh of this bird. Although some esteem 
the flesh very highly, and consider that of the young 
equal to the flesh of the partndge, others say that itvis 
very indifferent. 

In some parts these birds are tamed, principally for 
the sake of their skins, which are covered with a very 
fine down, and applicable to all purposes for which 
those of the swan are employed. When taken young, 
they soon become familiar; but they are very impatient 
of cold, and seldom live long, gradually losing their 
colour, flesh, and appetite; and dying probably from 
the want of that food with which, in their natural state, 
they are abundantly supplied. ‘They are caught by 
snares, or by making use of tame flamingoes. The 
method is to drive the latter into the places frequented 


flamingoes, ranked up and preening their wings, forth- | by the wild birds, and to lay meat for them there. No 


sooner do the wild flamingoes see the others devouring 
this food, than they flock around to obtain a share. 
A battle ensues between the parties, when the bird- 
catchers, who ‘are concealed close by, take the oppor- 
tunity to spring up and seize their prey. 


BEDOUIN ARABS. 


(From a Correspondent.] 2 


Tue diverse forms in which man acts wrongly towards 
man in different countries affords a tolerably gocd crite- 
rion by which to estimate the general condition of each. 
In the savage state, depredation is usually of a warlike 
character—the rapid incursion, the sudden surprise, 
bloodshed, burning, spoliation. In the barbarous state, 
men still act in bodies for the purposes of pillage, but, 
unless particularly provoked, they rarely shed blood, 
poor persons they either dismiss or keep as slaves or 
servants, and the rich they retain for ransom. In a 
state of society more advanced, such embodied depre- 
dators are dissolved by the vigour of the government 
and the strength of the law. ‘To them succeed the 
solitary but daring footpads and highwaymen ; who, in 
their turn, give place to the secret and scientific burglar, 
the ingenious swindler, and the adroit pickpocket. All 
these different modes of attaining tlie same object have 
been exhibited in this country. 

‘The desert Arabs, or Bedouins, scorn the occupations 

and habits of civilized, or, more correctly speaking, 
of settled life. The dwellers in towns and houses they 
regard with supreme contempt; and if themselves 
obliged by circumstances to sojourn for a time in a 
town, they exhibit the utmost impatience to return to 
their tents and desert homes. ‘They are robbers by 
profession; but to that profession they do not consider 
the slightest degree of criminality to be attached. If 
reproached with their predatory habits, they take their 
stand boldly on the ground, not of necessity, but of right. 
They are the lords of the desert, which was given 
to their father Ishmael as his only portion; and if 
strangers, who have no right to intrude, will pass 
throuch, they must pay for it; and they have a right to 
extract their full inheritance from those to whom the 
oil and the wine have been given. Hence the plunder 
of, and exaction from, caravans. ‘They rarely seize the 
whole. Most of the more valuable merchandise is 
useless to them; and they are content to take articles 
of food and clothing, arms, and trappings for their 
horses, and to fix a sum of money, which must be raised 
among the members of the caravan, as the ransom of 
their persons and of the remaining goods. This is 
often very heavy ; but if on a road which caravans much 
frequent, they:take care that it shall not be such as 
altogether to discourage merchants and travellers from 
taking the road, experience having taught them that it 
is more profitable to take a little from many than much 
‘from a few. Nevertheless they do often break out 
into such excesses, that the most important routes are 
interrupted for years together. We lave ourselves 
known an English party wait an entire year at Aleppo 
for an opportunity of proceeding across the desert to 
Bagdad, by a very common caravan road. 

The depredations of the Arabs are seldom attended 
with bloodshed when no resistance is offered; and it 
rarely is, for the bravest are appalled when aware that 
if a single Arab loses his life a terrible vengeance will 
be exacted. If the party of the caravan has anything 
like a formidable aspect, the Bedouins will not attempt 
to molest it; and ifit is weak, there is no course but sub- 
mission. We have ourselves travelled about unarmed 
without personal injury; and with our knowledge of 
the Bedouin character, it was with much pain and many 
misgivings that, a few years azo, we saw a party of 
five English gentlemen leave Bagdad most formidably 


= 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


227 


armed, and with a firm resolution to fight their way on. 
We afterwards learued,.with little surprise but much 
sorrow, that three of these gentlemen had been killed 
on the road, and the other two were happy to escape 
with the loss of every thing belonging to them. They 
had been attacked, they fired, one of the assailants 
was killed, and after that there was no mercy for them. 
Since this melancholy event, the English have ceased 
to make the “ overland” journey from India through 
Asiatic Turkey, though we are persuaded they mieht 
safely do so if they would be content to buy, rather than 
fight, their way through these barbarous tribes. It 
would be also necessary to travel without display; for 
if they are led to suspect a person who falls into their 
hands to be of much consequence, they will detain him 
in the hope of a good ransom. But he would not be 
ill treated; and we have sometimes thought that a 
person anxious to make himself well acquainted with their 
habits of life and modes of thinking could not do better 
than remain among them in this character for a time. 

Not only are the paths of the desert but the naviga- 
tion of the rivers thus impeded by the Bedouin tribes. 
The shores of the Tigris, for instance, are inhabited by 
the Beni Lam, the Chaob, and other tribes, who claim 
a tribute of all vessels that pass to or from Bagdad, and 
when the Bagdad government is weak, go so far as to 
plunder them completely. In connexion with this 
subject, a few extracts from our journal, kept during a 
passage down the Tigris, in the early part of the year 
1832, may not be without interest. — 

** We are now arrived at that part of the river where 
it seems that attacks from the Arabs most frequently 
occur. Our reis (master of the vessel) has consequently 
been talking very big all day about the valorous deeds 
he has done and will do. His gun, an English piece, 
has been carefully cleaned, and he has girded on his 
cartridge-case and powder-flask. | 

*’ About four o’clock this (the following) morning a 
formidable assanlt was made upon our boats from both 
sides of the river. Our own vessel and another were 
allowed to pass with comparative impunity ; but the third, 
which they had probably ascertained to be the richest, 
was fiercely assailed from the shore. In the hope of 
intimidating them, the servants of the gentleman in 
that boat were directed to send back a volley from their 
small arms in return. This discharge was tollowed by 
a very piercing and peculiar cry from the women, which 
seemed to indicate that it had taken more effect than 
was mitended among the assailants, who suffered us to 
proceed without further molestation, probably con- 
cluding that we were too strong for them. As we 
were going with a fair wind at the time of this attack, 
and the Bedouins had no boats with which to attempt 
boarding, they must have trusted that the intimidation 
occasioned by their numbers and their firing would have 
made the river-men bring the vessels ashore, and submit 
quietly to their pleasure. At that time every thing 
depended on our being able to keep the mid channel ; 
but this was very difficult, for we just then came to a 
flexure of the river which so changed our position with 
regard to the wind, that 1t was only by the most velie- 
ment exertions of the men that we were prevented from 
driving on shore before the sails could be shifted. Had 
we really done so, we feel that we could have expected 
nothing less than to have been all massacred. During tlus 
transaction the din was perfectly terrific. Intermingled 
with the noise of the firing were heard the wild and 
savage tones of the war-cry, which was raised on the shore 
and echoed by our men, who in every way endeavoured 
to make as much noise as possible in order to convey an 
exaggerated idea of their numbers. The deep, shrill 
yells of the women were particularly appalling. “Phey 
usually attend on occasions of this sort to furnish the 
men with refreshments, to incite them by songs; to dress 

to 


9 


~ 


28 


their wounds, and we understand that they sometimes 
assist in actual conilict. 

‘¢ Our reis* made a great parade of himself and his 
gun the following day, and seemed decidedly of opinion 
that our happy escape from the clutches of the Bedonins 
was mainly attributable to his own prowess and the 
excellence of his piece.” » 





COFFEE. 


[From a Correspondent. ] 


In a late Number, we inserted a description which had 
been sent to us of the best mode of preparing cocoa for 
use: we shall perhaps do what is acceptable to a 
greater proportion of our readers by offering similar 
directions for the preparation of coffee. It is a singular 
fact that, travel where you may on the continent of 


prepared in a manner far superior to that which is 
ordinarily attained even in opulent families in England, 
where the ‘‘ straw-coJoured fluid,’ commonly introduced 
under the misnomer of coffee, is certainly not calculated 
to spread a liking for it as an article of diet. We con- 
sider our deficiency in this respect is to be regretted, 
not only because it is always desirable to add to and to 
make the most of our innocent enjoyments, but also 
because it is very probable that if by any means coffee, 
properly prepared, could be introduced as a staple 
article of consumption among the population generally, 
it might have a considerable moral influence, and 
might wean many from that vice of sottishuess which is 


Europe, you will everywhere find this grateful beverage 


now in so lamentable a degree a national reproach to 
us. If our artisans and labourers, who feel a natural 
craving for some stimulus after their day of toil and 
exhaustion, could be content to gratify this craving by 
the: use of the sober berry, which ‘‘ cheers but not 
inebriates,’ what a vast increase to the happiness of 
their families might be experienced,—what improve- 
mnent to their own health, both physical and moral ! 

Coffee, when properly prepared, has the very useful 
and somewhat peculiar property of exhilarating’ the 
spirits and of producing even temporary wakefulness, 
but which condition passes away i the course of an 
hour or two, and leaves the frame in a state of calmness 
which disposes it for profound and refreshing sleep. 
That these effects do not ordinarily follow from the use 
of coffee may be attributed to the faulty mamner of its 
preparation. 

Professor Donovan has detailed, in a paper inserted 
in the *‘ Dublin Philosophical Journal,’ for May, 1826, 
the particulars of a series of experiments made by hin 
with a view to ascertain the best methods for extracting 
from coffee all the virtues which are inherent in the 
berry; and he has there described so philosophically 
and so practically the preferable plan for that end, that 
we cannot perhaps do better than lay before our readers 
the result of his investigations. 

Mr. Donovan found, that what we shall call the 
medicinal quality of coffee resides in it independent of 
its aromatic flavour,—that it is possible to obtain the 
exhilarating effect of the beverage without gratifying 
the palate,—and, on the other hand, that all the aro- 
matic quality may be enjoyed without its producing 
any effect upon the animal economy. His object was 
to combine the two. 

The roasting of coffee is requisite for the production 
of both these qualities; but, to secure them in their full 
dewree, it is necessary to conduct the process with some 
skill. Jet not our readers be alarmed, however, by 
this announcement, for the degree of skill required is 


| 
| 
| 


* The reis and sailors were town Arabs,—natives of Bussorah ; 
the Bedouius hate and scorn these their quict and industrious 
brethren, 


THE PENNY 


’ 
* 


MAGAZINE. [June 14, 
now unfailingly attained by the cook of every petty 
cabaret from one end of France to the other, and is 
fully within the reach of every one who is disposed to 
use a very small amount of carefulness. ‘The first 
thing to be done is to expose the raw coffee to the heat 
of a gentle fire, in an open vessel, stirring it continually 
until it assumes a yellowish colour. It should then be 
roughly broken;—a thing very easily done,—so that 
each berry is divided into about four or five pieces, 
when it must be put into the roasting apparatus. This, 
as most commonly used, is made of sheet-iron, and is of 
a cylindrical shape: it no doubt answers the purpose 
well, and is by no means a costly machine, but coffee 
may be very well roasted in a cominon iron or earthen- 
ware pot, the main circumstances to be observed being 
the degree to which the process is carried, and the pre- 
vention of partial burning, by constant stirring... When 
coffee has lost one-fifth part of its weight in roasting it 
will be in the best state for use ;—-it will then be of a 
bright chocolate colour,—will have swollen to nearly 
twice its original size, and will have a highly aromatic 
smell, and warm, bitterish taste. Ifthe heat be con- 
tinued longer, the grateful flavour will be impaired, 
and the bitterness increased to a disagreeable extent. 
‘Practice makes perfect,’ and as one of the requisites 
for having good coffee is that it shall have been recently 
roasted, the necessary amount of practice will soon be 
cained. ji 

Coffee should be ground very fine for use, and only 
at the moment when it is wanted, or the aromatic 
flavour will in some measure be lost. ‘To extract all 
its good qualities, the powder requires two separate 
and somewhat opposite modes of treatment, but which 
do not offer. any difficulty when explained. On the 
one hand, the fine flavour would be lost by boiling, 
while, on the other, it is necessary to subject the coffee 
to that degree of heat in order to extract its medicinal 
quality. ‘The mode of proceeding, which, after any 
experiments, Mr. Donovan found to be the most simple 
and efficacious for attaining -both these ends, was the 
following :—The whole water to be used must be 
divided into two equal parts. One half must be put 
first to the coffee ‘‘ cold,” and this must be placed over 
the fire-until it ‘* just comes to a boil,” when it must 
be immediately removed. Allowing it then to subside 
for a few moments the liquid must be poured off as 
clear as it will run. The reinaining half of the water, 


which during this time should have been on the-fire, 


economy. 


must then be added ‘at a boiling heat” to the ereunds, 
and placed on the fire, where it must be kept * boiling ” 
for about. three minutes. This will extract the medi- 
cinal virtue, and if then the liquid be allowed again to 
subside, and the clear fluid be added to the first portion, 
the preparation will be found to combine all the good 
properties of the berry in as great perfection as they 
can be obtained. If any fining ingredient is used it 
should be mixed:with the powder at the beginning of 
the process. 

We have said nothing as to the proportion of coffee 
to be used to a given quantity of water. Some persons 
will prefer to drink it stronger than others, and many 
must restrict themselves in this respect on the score of 
We have found that three ounces of coffee 
will provide an ample beverage for four or five persons, 
and of a very satisfactory degree of streneth. it milk 
is added it should be previously made hot. 

Several kinds of apparatus, some of them very inge- 
nious in their construction, have been proposed for pre- 
paring coffee, but they are all made upon the principle 
of extracting only the aromatic flavour, while Professor 
Donovan’s suggestions not only enable us to accomplish 
that desirable object, but superadd the less obvious but 
equally essential matter of extracting and making our 
own al} the medicinal virtues of coffee, 


one THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 22 


HOUSE OF THE FAUN, AND ITS MOSAIC FLOORS. 


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. 
a 


230 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [June 14, 


Pompetr, as most of our readers will remember, as we | between the gratings, the statues, and the blue and 
have frequently alluded to it in the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ | purple curtains which waved in their intervals, other 
is an ancient city built at the roots of Mount Vesuvius, | and more extensive colonnades might be perceived. 
that was buried by an eruption of that volcano in the | Under the shade and cover of the porticoes are small 
first ceutury of the Christian era, and that, after re- | temples where the household gods were worshipped. 
maining coucealed and unknown for almost seventeen | Two elegant bronze tripods smoked with perennial 
hundred years, has been discovered, excavated, and | odours before the statues of Phoebus, of Concord, and 
partially thrown open, within these last hundred years. | the Graces, which were gathered up in fragments when 
In all instances the roofs, whether of private houses | the place was excavated. ‘Phe view in the background 
or of temples and other public edifices, have been | was bounded by the summit of Mount Vesuvius. 
destroyed by the scoriw, pumice, sandy earth, and{ Everything about the mansion remained in the same 
other matier discharged by Vesuvius, that pressed upon | situation in which it was previous to its destruction 
them, and then filled up the interior of the edifices | Large quantities of vases and household furniture, of 
almcst as regularly and compactly as melted metal | every form, of bronze and glass, were collected in every 
thrown over a mould. But with the exception of the} part; and cups, patera, and plates of silver were found 
roofs, which in most cases it would be an easy task to | laid out on several tables of marble. A fine statué in 
restore, the ancient dwelling-houses of Pompeii look | bronze, of a faun, from which the house takes its name, 
as if they had been tenanted but yesterday, and as if | was discovered in the centre of the atrium. The floors 
they might be inhabited again to-morrow. of the principal entrance, the dining-room, and the 
The interior walls of the superior class of these | rooms which adjoined it were paved with mosaics, com- 
houses are generally ornamented with mouldings in | posed of minute pieces of marble, almost all of natural 
stucco, and with paintings of fruit, flowers, landscape, } colours, representing in one place a rich festoon of 
figures or arabesques; and, where only a plain surface | fruit, of flowers, and of scenic masks; in another, the 
was painted, the colours, such as greens, blues, purples, | sea-shore with fish and shells; again with ducks, and 
&c., are as fresh and pure as though the painters’ birds in the claws of a cat; a lion darting on his prey 
brushes had been just passed over them. In many | forms another subject, and a fifth represents Bacchus 
instances the floors of the halls and rooms are covered ; upon a panther. The little deity, crowned with ivy, 
with mosaics. Some of these works are exceedingly | supports a large wine-cup in one hand, and with the 
interesting from their position, and in reference to the | other a garland of vine-leaves and flowers, which fall 
-usages of ancient days. On the threshold of one | and encircle in an elegant manner the neck of the pan- 
private house there is written, in mosaic, and in| ther. In this chamber were found two large and heavy 
large capital letters, the Roman term of salutation, | gold bracelets, two earrings, and seven rings with most 
* SALVE,” or “ Welcome!” At the entrance of beautifully engraved oems; besides a heap of gold, 
another house there is spiritedly represented, in mosaic | silver, and bronze coins and medals. 
on the floor, the figure of a fierce, chained dog in the} The women’s apartments are separated from the 
act of flying at some one,—and the words ‘‘ CAVE | other part of the habitation,—they stretch alone the 
CANEM,” ‘* Take care of the Dog,” are inscribed | side of the atrium and the ewarden. Behind the oarden, 
beneath it. The chain and the jagged collar are much | in a delightful and picturesque situation, there is a 
the saine as we now use, and the dog is not unlike the dining-hall with a triclintum*, The waters of the Nile, 
cane Corso, or Corsican bull-dog, much prized by the | represented in mosaic, seem to run upon the floor 
modern Italians as a house-dog, on account of its | between the-columns which decorate the entrance to 
strength, boldness, and ferocity,—though, as Lord | this hall,—and present to the guests a view of its banks 
Byron correctly observed, the breed is deficient in that ; covered with birds, plants, and foreign animals. Con- 
wonderful “ tenacity of tooth” which distinguishes the | spicuous among the animals are, the hippopotamus, 
English bull-dog. which is now rarely or ever found in that part of the 
In some cases the mosaic work that covers the rooms | Nile familiarly known to the ancient Greeks and Ro- 
like a carpet, or ornamental oil-cloth, merely represents | Mans, though in their time it seems to have abounded 
a minutely-dotted surface of pieces of black and white | in Egypt, and the crocodile, as shown in the lower 
marble, with or without a fancy border round it. In | compartments of the illustration, where the black circles 
other cases more colours are employed, and fantastic or | mark the position of the pillars. ‘The floor of the 
elegant patterns delineated—and, in a few instances, | dining-hall is covered with a large and spirited picture 
works of really high art in mosaic are found on the {1 mosaic, (see the embellishment,) measuring fifteen 
floors over which the ancients walked—we hope, in | feet by seven feet ereht inches. All that we can safely 
slippers. Nothing, however, of this sort, hitherto dis- | Say on the subject of this picture is, that it represents a 
covered, is at all equal to the mosaic that forms the | battle between Greeks and Persians. Thus much, 
subject of our present engraving. indeed, is made out by the costume, arms, and counte- 
In 1829 the excavators at Pompeii discovered a house | nances of the combatants. 
of unusual beauty and size. This house stands in a] Italian critics, who are apt to lose too much time on 
wide street which extends from the ‘Temple of Fortune | these uncertain subjects, and to be too positive in their 
to the ancient gate leading to Nola, dividing as it were | Opinions, seem, however, to have decided that this 
Pompeii into two parts. The entrance to the house is | splendid mosaic must either represent the battle of 
on a large scale, and of a noble desigu—two uncommon Platea, in Greece, or the great conflict between Alex- 
circumstances, for the private houses wenerally are very ander and Darius, at Issus, in Asia. On the suppo- 
unambitious. Almost at the threshold the entire per- | sition of its representing the battle of Issus, Signor 
spective of this extensive mansion becomes apparent at | Bonucci, Professor Quaranta, and others have pro- 
the first glance. Tirst, there is a large open Atrium, | ceeded very boldly, and have not only recogniséd Alex- 
the walls of which are enlivened with brilliant and | ander the Great, but the true portrait of Darius, “ which 
diversified colours, and the pavements formed of blood- | has hitherto been wholly unknown.” 
red jasper mixed with oriental and figured alabaster: at Our readers may choose between Issus and Platea ; 
the sides of the atrium are various small bed-rooms, a | but it is probably neither, and only a fancy battle-piece. 
hal! of audience, and dining-rooms. Beyond is a flower- | There ean be no doubt, however, as to the excellence 
gurden; in the centre was a fountain with a marble} aye ancient Romans took their meals, not Saseileesitades aie 
basin beneath to catch the falling waters. Four and | ata table, as we do, but in a recumbent posture. The triclinium was 
twenty Ionic columns formed a portico around; and | the thing they reclined upon when dining and supping. 


te we ey eee 


_— a rr pg et ee 
AS WES et a ge ee EE pre EE SS ie 





1834.] 


of the mosaic as a work of art, or that it represents a 
conflict in which the valorous disciplined Greeks are 
obtaimme a victory over the Persians. The Eastern 
clnef, im his war-chariot, drawn by four horses, his 
charioteer flogging the horses into speed, and the 
confusion created by this flight, are represented with 
infinite spirit and truth, and tell a very intelligible 
though a somewhat general story. 

Our readers must be reminded that a few years 
before Pompeii was buried by the volcano it was very 
much damaged by an earthquake; and also that the 
inhabitants of the devoted town were in the act of 
repairing these damages when the eruption began*, 

It appears that the mosaic’ floor now under our 
consideration was partially ruined by this earth- 
quake, and that, between the earthquake and the 
ernption, attempts were made to restore it. These 
restorations are in a very coarse, imperfect style. It is 
much better to possess this valuable and venerable relic 
of art mutilated as it is than to have it diseuised by 
rifacciamentos. By studying the engraving, our readers 
will have a very good notion of the composition, and 
another insight into that ancient world of art which is 
best calculated to elevate and direct their taste. 

Signor Bonucci and others say that in contemplating 
the original work, when first discovered and cleaned, 
they were so much struck with some of the Persian 
heads that they thought they had never seen anything 
so perfect—that they might stand a comparison with 
the finest heads of Raphael. They also add, that in 
the original the colours are at once vivid and harmonious ; 
—that the sky has a wonderful transparency and ap- 
pearance of atmosphere in it, and that the figures, both 
of men and horses, are admirably drawn, and full of 
life and action. 


a __. 


PROGRESS OF PAUPERISM. 


Tar welfare and happiness of every individual mainly 
depend on the obedience to a law which is unalterably 
annexed to his state of being. He must rely on the 
produce of his industry for the support of his existence: 
—he must live by the sweat of his brow. This hardship 
is perhaps more apparent than real. Some employ- 
ment is required for the benefit of our health, and some 
is necessary to amuse and occupy the mind. It is true 
that some labour is exacted from us beyond those limits, 
to furnish out the means of subsistence; but still it is 
mitigated by a circumstance attending it which affords 
a sure ground of consolation, and leaves open to almost 
every lidividual the cheering prospect that the burthen 
of his work will cease long before his life is drawing to 
its close. We are made sensible by this circumstance 
that our existence is not a condemnation to punishment, 
but a great benefit conferred on those who can prevail 
on themselves to forego present enjoyment for future 
ease. 

Iivery individual, even in the least favoured station 
of society, may produce more than is absolutely 
necessary for him to consume—may gain more than 
it is required for him to expend, and may, by forbear- 
ance, lay hy some part of the fruits of his labour for 
future use. Nor do the unforeseen calamities which 
sometimes afflict individuals, and sometimes classes 
of the community, and which cut off those upon whom 
they fall from the immediate benefit of the rule, form 
any substantial objection to its general application. 
Such unexpected calamities make but a small pro- 
portion of the evils which infest us, and the sufferers 
may safely trust they will not be left by the rest of the 
cominulity without relief. It is hardly necessary to 


* See volumes an ‘ Pompeii’ in the series of ‘ Entertaining 
Knowledge, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


251 


‘give instances of the various modes in which this saving 


may be made. Let any person, who has passed some 
years after lis arrival at the age of manhood, bring 
back to his recollection the manner in which he has 
spent the time he had passed, the ways in which he 
had disposed of his earnings, his useless and regretted 
expenditure, the means that had been offered and he 
had neglected of earning, and the opportunities he had 
lost of improving his condition. He would find, upon 
any just and honest calculation, that a little more than 
one-half of a life spent in industry and forbearance 
would have secured for the remainder of his existence a 
life of leisure, and even of idleness, if he should think 
idleness desirable. 

If one hundred men were endowed with equal powers 
to labonr, and placed on one hundred allotments of 
land of equal dimensions and equal capacity for pro- 
duction, it is evident that the most industrious ainoue'st 
them would obtain the largest produce in return for the 
work he had done; and amongst the most industrious 
the one who consumed the smallest portion of his pro- 
ductions would lay by the greatest share for his future 
use. Now, if one of these one hundred persons, from 
disinclination to work, relaxed in his labour, and did not 
produce enough to support himself, he would probably 
apply to his more industrious and abstemious neighbour 
to assist him with some portion of his savings. This 
perhaps would be granted by indulgence. If this least 
industrious individual of the community could rely 
upon the continuance of these favours, it is probable he 
would not attempt again to exert himself efficiently in 
the production of his maintenance ;—he would sit down 
contented with the hope of the same relief. But if, in 
the origin of this society, or at any time during its 
continuance, a compact had been formed amongst them 
to supply with the means of existence the members of 
the community who had neglected to lay by some 
portion of their produce for future use, it is certain, 
except such law was guarded by creat precautions and 
vigilance in its execution, that the most unprincipled 
and worthless among thein, thus sure of support, would 
relax in their industry and become the easy prey of their 
vicious inclinations and appetites, to the injury of them- 
selves and their associates. 

Now this supposed case exhibits a state of circum- 
stances in which both the folly of idleness, as it affects 
the individual who is cuilty of it, and the injustice of it, 
as it regards the rest of the community, are undeniable. 
It is folly, because the industrious portion of society, 
who are always the most powerful, may think it proper 
to refuse a gift which must be drawn from the means 
produced by their own forbearance, and kept for their 
own use, and which the idle and dissolute can have no 
natural right to demand; and it is certainly injustice, 
for what can be more unjust than to claim from the 
hard-earned stores which labour and economy have 
collected a supply to ward off the consequenccs which 
attend on vice and indolence? 

The same principles which would influence the con- 
duct of individuals in this supposed simple state of 
existence, of which we have given an example, ave at 
work on the more complex frame in which it is at pre- 
sent constituted. Vice and idleness are fully as pre- 
valent in them, in proportion to the increased po- 
pulation, and the inducements to indulge in them are 
more powerful. In an advanced state of civilisa- 
tion, the necessary separation of the people into diffe- 
reut ranks prevents a frequent intercourse between 
them ; they are little acquainted with each other’s mode 
of life and manners. By the various modifications of 
property a large portion of it is exempted from injury 
on the commencement of a decline in our prosperity, 
Ihe income of the mortgagee, the annuitant, tne fund- 


dholder are not affected. ‘The intricacy of the rights 


232 
which flow from the eniployment of a large capital, and 
the indirect aud unseen manner in which the public 
burthens are sometimes imposed and raised for the 
support of those whom idleness has impoverished and 
vice rendered improvident, conceal in part from the 
view of a large portion of the community the early 
symptoms of a derangement in the moral habits of the 
labouring population. These evils are gradually and 
silently extended. 

The wealth which had been accumulated in seasons 
of prosperity prevents their burthen from being imme- 
diately felt, and the approaching danger from being 
discovered. It is only when they have made great pro- 
eress, when landed property begins to sink in value, 
and the’ store of wealth’ evidently to diminish,- that. a 


nation is aroused from its slumber, and thinks. of 


searching for the grounds of the alteration. Such 
reflections can hardly escape even those who are most 
unused to observe attentively the scenes which human 
affairs present. 

The prospenty of each individual, and of states, which 
are made up of individuals, .is the result of the due 
observance of the conditions of industry and forbearance 
imposed on us as part of our state of being. ‘They 
serve as the foundation (like gravitation In the mecha- 
nism of the universe) on which our welfare must depend 
for its stability: we are indebted to them for the wealth 
which has been accumulated, and it must be preserved 
from crumbling into the dust from which it has. been 
raised by the same labour and abstinence by which it 
has been gathered up for our use. Under no form of 
government, under no system of laws, can we dispense 
with an attention to these conditions. In proportion 
as individuals relax in their observance of them, their 


well-being and happiness must be ultir ately dimi-. 


nished: in proportion to the. number c/ individuals 
who thus neglect their own welfare must the strength 
and prosperity. of the state, of which they compose a 
part, be impaired. 


These truths may be illustrated and exemplified by. 


the effects they would produce on a district or a parish. 
Every person | contained within such division: must, sub- 
sist on the produce of his own industry, whether it is 
obtained ii Kind or in money: as he received it he 
would either,consume the whole or lay by a portion ; or 
if he does not labour; he must be. maintained by means 
of some store he had accumulated. Chere are but these 
two ways of being maintained without injury to the 
community, to which he belongs. But if, by neglect or 
idleness, he fails in ‘producing by his labour that which 
is necessary for his consumption, and has nothing. of 
his own, -but throws himself upon his neighbours to be 


supplied: either by a part of their immediate gains, Or 


from the: provision they had set by for future use, it is 
evident ‘that -he diminishes the. welfare of each indi- 
vidual from whose .g@ains: or property he thus takes a 
share.. If the number. of such individuals ,so living 
withont labour, or without procuring a sufficient sub- 
sistence for themselves, amounted to a large proportion 
of such society, the result would be a general i impover- 
ishment, and if they continued to increase, the general 
ruin, “Nations. ‘may perish by other means - than the 
sword of a conqueror. They may be extinguished 
by vices and defects which gradually corrode and un- 
dermine them, which it requures oreat vigilance and 
sagacity to hee anid great courage and reemintion to 
eradicate and subdue. ‘These defects may originate in 


laws which are ‘mischievous in,.themselves; in laws 
wisely enacted, but erroneously adniinistered ; in the 
misapplication of wealth; in bad examples; in the 


inculeation of mistaken principles of conduct. Such 
causes, and many others, may combine to corrupt the 
population of a country ; > to enconrage idieness and 


vice ; and to betray: the people to abandon the course 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


(June 14, 1834. 


marked out for them by the laws of nature, which no 
one is permitted to leave with impunity. 

For many years past, in this country, it had become 
evident that a change had taken place in the habits of 
the labouring classes: their industry was abated; their 
love of independence was less conspicuous ; their re- 


luctance to receive relief from funds collected from the 


) 


rest of the community was less marked. The signs of. 


this change and its tendency to increase became daily 
more manifest. 
oovernment were now fixed on these formidable ap- 
pearances. : 

This change has been attributed to various causes : 
they have- been successively examined and traced in 
their operation with the most signal sagacity and per- 
severance. . It is scarcely possible to doubt that these 
fearful consequences are derived from a variety of 
sources. By a general concurrence of opinion, it 
appears to be adinitted that the present system of 
administering’ the Poor Laws has contributed to pro- 
duce a large share of those evils, and has assisted to 
aggravate the malignity of those which originated in 
other events. Many of the laws enacted for the relief 


of the poor contained provisions which proved, when . 


carried into execution, to be clearly detrimental to the 
interests of all classes of the community. Some of them 
appeared to’be wise and proper in themselves, but haa 
been abused in practice, and perverted from their real 
object and intention. 


Poor Rate, great mismanagement prevailed. It was 
wasted upon persons who had uo claim to it; lavished 
upon occasions where its application was neither justified 
by law nor necessity ; it was made a resource of easy 
access to the indolent; it seduced the industrious from 
their habits of industry ; and had, by such employment, 
a direct tendency to convert every labourer into a 
pauper—to degrade his mind and corrupt his morals : 
for who can retain proper feelings of his own worth and 
independence who consents to live without necessity on 
the charity of others, or take, in the form of a gift, the 
subsistence which, by means of his own labour, he may 
demand as a right. 


These views produced several attempts, by means of . 


new laws, to amend the system. ‘The remedies thus 
proposed were sometimes locally and partially successful ; 
bnt the body of the mischief continued to increase and 
advance, and threatened the destruction of all property 
and social order. 

It became apparent that it was necessary to adopt a 
more general and efficient change in this department of - 
the law, and stop up one of the “channels through which ° 
so much mischief was poured in upon:the community, : 
It was proposed by the government that this alteration ° 
should be g¢rounded on a full, accurate, and compre- 


The attention of the public and of the’ 


} 


It appeared certain that, in the - 
distribution of the funds raised under the name of a> 


hensive examination of the management of the poor, of ° 


all the varieties of practice, and‘ of all facts which conld 


be collected on the subject throughout the kingdom. 
A commission was issued by’ the Crown to several 
persons, who were empowered to eniploy assistants to 
collect ‘such information for them; aad founded upon 
the Report of the Commissioners, which has been 
extensively cirenlated, a great change in tlie Poor-Laws 
is now under the consideration of Parliainent.’ It is 
not our purpose to enter into any explanation of their 
proposed amendments,‘ but to indicate the several 
circuinstances which render amendment necessary. 








*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincola’s Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES RNIGH#F, 82, LUDGiae a eicT. 





Printed by Wit.t1am Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth. 


> 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





142. | PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Junz 21, 1934. 
save 





BOY EXTRACTING A THORN. 





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{ Boy extracting a Thorn] ~ : 

Roman capitol, and has been the subject of many tales, 
not only without foundation, but which the noble and 
simple style of the figure prove to be ee dated. 


- 
. 


: 








Tus bronze statue ts one of the best preserved among 

the monuments of Grecian art which have descended to 

our own times. It stood, many ages since, in the 
Vou. HI, 





234 


The common people believe it to represent a young 
shepherd who, during the intestine wars of the middle 
ages, was sent to observe the enemy, and into whose 
foot a thorn had entered, on his return to Rome to 
relate what he had seen. But the incontestable anti- 
quity of this fine work would rather incline one to be- 
lieve that it represents a young victor in the races of 
the Stadium, who apparently had in running met with 
an accident, but notwithstanding this disadvantage had 
won the prize. The custom of perpetuating by the 
position and action of athletic statues some one of 
the circumstances attending the victory in such races 
was early established in Greece. ‘The absolute naked- 
ness of the figure shows that this is an athletic statue. 
Its form, although somewhat slender, unites much 
elerance with the most exact adherence to nature: 
it is at once felt that living nature must have afforded 
the model. ‘The posture of this young man, wlio !s 
stooping, and appears to give all his attention to the ex- 
traction of the thorn from his left foot, which is placed 
upon his knee, possesses so much of simplicity and 
orace as to excite the untiring admiration of the spec- 
tator. The writer in the ‘ Musée Frangais,’ from which 
this description, as well as the wood-cut, is taken, thinks 
that the statue must have been executed during the 
sixty years which elapsed between the period when the 
athletic statues began to be made in characteristre atti- 
tudes, and the time of Lysippus, when a style more. soft 
and ideal marked the final limits of the art. It is 
probable, however, that he is mistaken in the era thus 
assigned. : 

This statue, which formerly stood in the palace of 
the Capitol at Rome, was ceded to France by the 
treaty of Tolentino; but, we believe, has been sunb- 
sequently restored. It is two feet five inches in height, 
and the casting is clean and fine. Some defects appear 
to have been remedied by pieces attached with. mnech 
art; and some holes, occasioned by time, were filled 
up with great care in the sixteenth century. The 
bronze rock on which the figure is seated is entirely 
ancient, and of the same material with the statue. 
The eyes are hollow, and were doubtless filled up 
anciently with some other material,—probably silver. 
The Greek school very rarely neglected this practice 
in works of bronze. 


GHOSTS. 


WE are sorry to think that the belief in this class of appari- 
tions is stiil prevalent among our agricultural population, 
and yet lingers in the cities and the towns. We are not 
disposed to enter largely into the subject at present, but 
avail ourselves of the opportunity which is afforded by a 
correspondent of stating some considerations which tend 
to refer such appearances to the state of the ghost-seer’s 
health or nerves. It may be stated generally, that it is not 
the voung and vigorous who witness such appearances, but 
the old. the nervous, and the timid. 

When the nerves are disordered, either naturally or other- 
wise, the patients become subject to delusions and ‘false 
sights, which are as real to thein as they may appear per- 
verse and ridiculous to others whose nerves are in perfect 
nealth. These patients are naturally very ready to swear 
to seeing a ghost, or spirit, or living person not present, 
because they do actually, in the day-dreaming of their 
mind's eye, see what they swear to. The nerves of ghost- 
seers are slightly disordered from fears brought on by having 
heard so*many stories about them when young, and from 
natural credulity and tendency to indulge in the marvellous. 
When tle nerves are much diseased, the delusions become 
more fixed and permanent, and the patient is then termed 
a lunatic. = 

A young clergyman, wno was given to study, and who 
took but little exercise, was one morning visited by two 
friends.. In the -passage beyond them he saw another 
friend, and asked them why he did not come in along with 


them; and he saw that third fnend so plainly that nothing | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[June 21. 


would convince him to the contrary, (though he immediately 
searched everywhere about the house,) until he was told by 
that third friend afterwards that he was at the time many 
miles off. The doctor told him that he must take more 
exercise, ot his nerves would become disordered altogether. 
Sometimes these delusions are brought on by bodily 
diseases, and when the patient’s body is recovering the 
nerves recover likewise. The following story isa remarkable 
instance of it:—‘‘ A lawyer in Edinburgh was very ill with 
a fever, but nobody slept or sat up in the room with him, his 
nurse being in a room below. Being winter time, he had a 
fire in the room; and one night he saw sitting in the easy- 
chair a young lady he had formerly been acquainted with, 
but who had been dead two years. He saw her so plainly, 
aud the glare from the fire played and flashed on her in 
such strong light and shade, just the same as if she was 
actually there, that he rapped on the floor with the end of 
his stick to fetch the nurse up; but she could see nobody in 
the chair, nor was there any impression on the cushion since 
she placed it there. Every night for three weeks this vision 
was repeated distinctly; he then began to mend rapidly, 


-and as he mended, though the vision was still repeated, it 


erew fainter and fainter every night, and after his health 
was restored never appeared again. A lawyer, being in the 
habit of reasoning, and arguing, and sifting the truth, could, 
on mentioning such a cireumstance to his doctor, become at 
once convinced that the young lady was no actual vision or 
ghost, but a consequence. merely of the nerves being diseased 
as well as the body. An ignorant person would never have 
been convinced but that the vision was real and not 1magi- 
ary. =. | es, . 

Sir Walter Scott says, in his work on ‘ Demonology,’ that 
‘“ The remarkable circumstance of Thomas, the second 
Lord Lyttleton, prophesying his own death within a few 
minutes, upon the information of an apparition, has always 
been quoted asa true story. But of late it has been said 
(and published) that the unfortunate nobleman had previ- 
ously determined to, take poison, and of course had it in his 
own power to ensure the fulfilment of the prediction. It 
was no doubt singular that a man, who meditated his exit 
from the world, should have chosen to play such a trick on 
his friends. But it is still more credible that a whimsical 
man should do so wild a thing, than that a messenger 
should be sent from the dead to tell a libertine at what pre- 
cise hour he should expire.” 


GRATITUDE OF A CAT. 


Tue cat certainly cannot boast much of its reputation for 
gratitude ; but a correspondent says, “1 have met with some 
instances which prove that there is a diversity of character 
and feelings in cats as well as men. I was ona Visit toa 
friend last summer, who had a favourite cat and dog, that 
lived together on the best possible terms, eating from the 
same plate and sleeping on the same rug. Puss had a 
young family while I was at the park, and Pincher paid a 
daily visit to thé kittens, whose nursery was at the top of 
the house. One morning there was a tremendous storm of 
thunder and lightning; Pincher was in the drawing-room, 
and the cat was attending her family in the garret. Pincher 
seemed to be considerably annoyed by the vivid flashes of 
lightning which continually startled him; and just as he 
had crept closer to my feet, some one entered the drawing- 
room followed by puss, who walked in with a disturbed air 
and mewing with all her might. She came up to Pincher— 
rubbed her face against his cheek—touched him gently 
with her paw, and then walked to the door—stopped— 
looked back—mewed—all of which said as plainly as words 
could have done, ‘ Come with me, Pincher ;’ but Pincher 
was too much frightened himself to give any consolation to 
her, and took no notice of the invitation. The cat then re- 
turned and renewed her application with increased energy; 
but the dog was immoveable, though it was evident that he 
understood her meaning, for he turned away his head with 
a half-conscious look and crept still closer to me; and puss, 
finding all her entreaties unavailing, then left the room. 
Soon after this her mewing became so piteous, that I could 
no longer resist going to see what was the matter. I met 
fhe cat at the top of the stairs, close to the open door of my 
sleeping apartment. She tran to me, rubbed herself against 
me, and tlien went into the room and crept under the ward- 
robe. I then heard two voices, and discovered that she had 
brought down one of her kittens and lodged it there for 


1834.] 


safety; but her fears and cares being so divided between 
the kittens above and this little one below, I suppose she 
wanted Pincher to watch by this one while she went for the 
others, for having confided them to my protection she 
hastened up stairs. I followed her with my young charge, 
placed it beside her, and moved their littie bed further from 
the window through which the lightning had flashed so 
vividly as to alarm poor puss for the safety of her family. 
I rernained there till the storm had subsided, and all was 
again calm. On the following morning, much to my sur- 
prise, I found puss waiting for me at the door of my apart- 
ment; she accompanied me down to breakfast, sat by me, 
and caressed me in every possible way. She had always 
been in the habit of going down to breakfast with the lady 
of the honse, but on this morning she had resisted all her 
coaxilig to leave my door, and would not move a step till 
I made my appearance. She went to the breakfast-room 
with me, and remained, as 1 have mentioned, until breakfast 
Was over, and then went up stairs to her family. She had 
never done this before, and never did it again: she had 
shown her gratitude for my care of her little ones, and her 
duty was done.” 





GIPSIKS. 


THE origin of this tribe of vagabonds is somewhat obscure ; 
at least the reason of the denomination is so. It is certain 
the ancient Egyptians had the character of being great 
impostors, whence the name might pass proverbially into 
other languages, as it is pretty certain it did into the Greek 
and Latin; or else the ancient Egyptians being much 
versed in astronomy, which, in those days, was little else 
than astrology, the name was on that score assumed by 
those tellers of fortune. There is scarcely any country in 
Europe but has its Egyptians, or Gipsies, though not all of 
them under the same name. The Latins call them Aigyptii; 
the Italians Cingani, and Cingari ; the Germans Zigeuner; 
the French, Bohemians ; others Saracens, and others Tartars. 
They made their first appearance in Germany in 1517, 
exceedingly tawny, and in pitiful array, though they 
affected quality, and travelled with a train of hunting-dogs 
after them like nobles. Ten years afterwards they came 
into France, and thence passed over into England. Pope 
Pus 11., who died in 1464, mentions them under the 
name of Zigari, whom he supposes to have migrated from 
the Zigi, which nearly answers to our modern Circassia. 
Mr. Grellman, in a German dissertation on the gipsies, 
asserts that they came from Hindostan. This hypothesis 
he grounds chietly on the similarity of the gipsey language 
to the Hindusianee. He supposes them to be of the lowest 
class of Indians, viz., “ Pariahs,” or, as they are called in 
Hindostan, ‘*‘Suders.”” Sir W. Jones (‘ Asiatic Researches,’ 
vol. 111., p. vii.) suggests that in some piratical expedition they 
might have landed on the coastof Arabia or Africa, whence 
they might have rambled to Egypt, and at length have 
migrated, or been driven, into Europe. A race of banditti 
resembling the gipsies in their habits and features is to be 
found among the Tryglodytes, (called so from rovyAn, a rock, 
and évw, I enter,) in the rocks near Thebes in Egypt. Mr. 
Grellinan estimates the number of these wanderers to be 
between 700,009 and 800,00u. By an ordonnance of the 
states of Orleans, in the year 1560, it was enjoined that all 
these impostors, under the name of Bohemians and Egyp- 
tians, should quit the kingdom on penalty of the galleys. 
Upon tls they dispersed into lesser companies, and spread 
themselves all over Europe. They were expelled from 
Spain in 1591. The first time they appeared, according 
io accounts, in England was in the reign of Henry VIIL, 
in the wear 1530, | 





Spiders.—A correspondent ‘supplies 4n omission in our 
paper on ‘ Spiders,” in No. 129 of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ 
by furnishing from his own observations the following ac- 
count of the process by which the insect disengages itself 
from its skin ‘The spider, in the first place, formed a kind 
of thick purse in one corner of the web, like that which is 
used to enclose the eg¢s. It then went to the centre of the 
web, and began to distend its body with violence for some 
minutes, until it split the skin the whole length of the back. 
When this was eflected it began slowly to force its body 
through the apetture, and then gradually drew out its 
Jegs, one by one, till they were all extricated. The exuvia 
retained the entire form of the spider, but was perfectly 
transparent. The insect itself, after this great change, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


remained quite gelatinous, and of a pale green colour, and 


it retreated to the purse or bag mentioned before, leaving 


the skin suspended in the web. The spider was sufficiently 
recovered to quit its shelter in about three days. 





Style and Furniture of Houses in the Age of Queen 
Elzabeth—Space and vastness seem to have made their 
Whole ideas of grandeur. The apartments are lofty and 
enormous, and they knew not how to furnish them. Pic 
tures, had they good ones, would have been lost in chambers 
of such height: tapestry, their chief moveable, was not 
commonly perfect enough to be really magnificent. Fretted 
ceilings, graceful mouldings of windows, and painted glass, 
the ornaments of the preceding age, were fallen into disuse. 
Immense windows, composed of bad glass, in diamond panes, 
cast an air of poverty over their most costly apartments. 
That at Hardwick Hall, still preserved as it was finished 
for the reception and imprisonment of the Queen of Scots, 
is € curious picture of that age and style. Nothing can 
exceed the expense in the bed of state, in the hangings in 
the same chamber, and of the coverings for tlie tables. The 
first is cloth of gold, cloth of silver, velvets of different 
colours, lace fringes, and embroidery. The hangings con- 
sist of figures, large as life, representing the virtues and 
vices, embroidered on grounds of white and black velvet. 
The cloths cast over the tables are embroidered and em- 
bossed with gold on velvet and damasks. The only move- 
avles of any taste are the cabinets and tables themselves, 
earved inoak. The chimneys are wide enough for a hall or 
kitchen ; and over the arras are friezes of many feet deep, 
With miserable relievos in stucco, representing hunting. 
Here, and in all the great mansions of that age, is a gallery, 
remarkable only for its extent.—Horace Wa/lnole. 


> 





Natives of Van Diemen’s Land—The following is the 
account, taken from a Van Diemen’s Land newspaper, of 
the first effort that has been made to fix and hand down to 
posterity a true resemblance of this interesting people in 
their original state and costume: for, according to the 
local’ authorities we quote, the few random, diminutive 
attempts in water colour and rough engraving that have 
yet been tried can scarcely be considered as affording any 
true picture of this singular race. ‘‘ We had the pleasure 
the other day in visiting Mr. Duterrau’s collection of paint- 
ings m Campbell street, to be agreeably surprised by 
remarkably striking portraits of some of our old sable ac- 
quaintances, the aborigines of this island. They are painted 
of the natural size in three-fourth lengths, having come to 
Mr. Duterrau and stood till he took their hkeness with the 
greatest satisfaction. They are all drawn exactly in the 
native garb. Wooready, the native of Brune Island, whic 
has attended Mr. Robinson in all his expeditions, has his 
hair smeared in the usual way with grease and ochire, three 
rows of small shining univalve shells strung round his neck, 
and the jaw-bone of his deceased friend suspended on his 
breast. ‘This relic of affection is carefully wrapped round 
with the small string which these interesting people make 
from the fibres of the large dag or Juncus which grows in 
all parts of the island. They obtain it by passing the green 
fiags over fire until they have stripped off the more friable 
part of the green bark, and then the fibres which are strong 
are easily twisted into threads. A kangaroo skin, with the 
fur inside, is passed round him and fastened over the shoul- 
der in the usual manner in the bush, before they obtained 
blankets from the whites, and his brawny athletic arm- is 
stretched out to wield the spear. His wife Truganina, the 
very. picture of gcod humour, stands beside him,. with_her 
head shaved according to custom by her husband with a 
sharp-edged flint. ° Besides these, Mr. Duterrau has in like 
manner painted a powerful likeness of the chief, Mana- 
lagana, and his wife, two most excellent, well-disposed 
people, who, with the others, have been of immense ser- 
vice to Mr. Robinson, and through him to the colony, 
in his several arduous and often dangerous expeditions to 
concilate their countrymen; and are now, we learn, sta- 
tioned about Campbell-town, doing their best endeavour to 
assist in ridding the country of the dreadful scourge of the 
flocks,—the ravenous wild-dogs. Great praise is due to 
Mr. Duterrau for his thus fixing on canvass which may 
commemorate and hand down to posterity for hundreds of 
years to come so close a resemblance in their original ap 
pearance and costume of a race now all but extinet, 


235 


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By the above very expressive name the Turks distinguish 
the grounds in which the remains of the dead are de- 
posited. The force of the term can only be well ap- 
preciated by the traveller in the East, who, in the neigh- 
bourhood of a great city, has frequently to traverse such 
a vast extent of ground marked by monumental stones 
on either hand before he can arrive at the abodes of 
living men, as to compel the most unthinking to feel 
‘that the capital of the living, spite of its immense 
population, scarce counts a single breathing inhabitant 
for every ten silent inmates of the city of the dead.” 
This was spoken of the public cemeteries of Constanti- 
nople, the largest city where the Moslem usages of 


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interment prevail, and where, therefore, the extent of 
the ground occupied by cemeteries, arising from the 
dislike of the Turks to re-open the ground where it is 
known that a body has been interred, appears with 
magnified effect. In mentioning generally the appear- 
ance presented by these cemeteries, it would be an 
injury to the reader to use other words than those of 
the eloquent author of ‘ Anastasius,’ for the truth and 
excellence of whose pictures on this and other occasions 
we are enabled to vouch from personal observation 
of the scenes and objects described. ‘* Already its fields 
of mouldering bodies and its gardens of blooming sepul- 
chres stretch far away on every side, across the brow of 


1834.] 


the hills, and at the bend of the valleys: already the 
avenues which cross each other at every step in this 
domain of death are so lengthened, that the weary 
stranger, from whatever point he comes, still finds 
before him:many a dreary mile of road between mar- 
shalled tombs and mournful cypresses, ere he reaches 
his journey’s scemingly receding end; and yet every 
year does this common patrimony of all the heirs of 
decay still exhibit a rapidly increasing size,.a fresher 
and wider line of boundary, and a new belt of planta- 
tions growing up between new flower-beds of graves.” 
A general description of the graves was given in the 
paper on ‘ Cemeteries ;’ but it remains to add, in 
explanation of the last expression, that the slabs, by 
whieh the graves are usually covered, are perforated 
with holes, through which the most beautiful flowers 
erow and shed their fragrance and their leaves around. 

The principal cemetery of the Mohamimedans is at 
Scutari, on the Asiatic side of the Bosphorus; for the 
Turks have a very strong impression that they shall 
ultimately be driven out of Europe by the Christians, 
and are not, therefore, willing that their bones should 
reinain in asoil to be polluted by the rule of the Giaour. 
A little consideration would teach them, however, that 
if the Christian possessed Constantinople, the Moslem 
would not long be allowed to retain Scutari. ‘The same 
impression operates differently on the Christians, in- 
ducing them to prefer the European side for their 
interments. 

We were at first surprised to find the cypress-tree 
appropriated, among the ‘Turks, to the sepulchral 
uses, in commexion with which it is always meutioned 
in the ancient and modern poetry of Europe. ‘But, 
on consideration, we concluded that they merely 
retained a usage which they found existing in the 
Greek cities which they acquired in Asia and Iurope. 
“This fine tree,’ says Sir John Cam Hobhouse, 
“has, with its gloomy green, long overshadowed the 
memorials of mortality; and its thick foliage, as well 
as the grateful odour of its wood, must serve to counter- 
act the effects which would othérwise be produced, if 
eraves; only a foot or two in depth, and containing 
corpses without coffins, were exposed to the burning 
summer sun.’ ‘The number and extent of the cemete- 
rics thus planted might be taken to characterize Con- 
stantinople,, whose palaces,- mosques, and innarets, 
scem embosomed in cypress woods. 

As these trees, however, preclude an extensive view 
over the grounds in which the spectator is standing, the 
entire impression is not more forcible upon his mind 
than when, in lands more eastward, where the cypress 
does not grow, he perceives, at one view, the hills, the 
valley, and the plain, crowded to a vast extent with 
white monumental stones, in-their general appearance 
not unlike the statues of Hermes, and which, in the 
obscurity of night, might lead the superstitious mind 
to fancy that the grave , 


“ TIad oped its ponderous and marble jaws "’ 


to yield up the departed.” Such cemeteries, neglected 
aud overgrown, and frequently consisting of rude 
unsculptured stones of every dimension, and stuck in 
the eround in various directions, often occur at a great 
distance from any existing towns or villages; but indi- 
cate sites formerly occupied, and tell more strongly than 
any abstract conception could do, how exceedingly 
populous the grave is. The monotony of the “ Fields 
of the Dead” of this sort is usually relieved by the 
small but neat square and open structures, surmounted 


by a dome, under which repose the ashes of the wealthy. 


in places where cemeteries are not, as in Cairo, specially 
appropriated to their reception. 

The attractive features which Mohammedan burial- 
grounds usually exhibit have been noticed by most tra- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


—_— 


‘favourite horse is led after. 


237 


vellers ; and, separately from the saddenine associations 
to which such spots give occasion, they are commonly 
the most pleasing promenades which Eastern cities offer. 
The trees, with which they are thickly planted in the 
western parts of ‘lurkey, afford a grateful shade; and 
the cooing of the wild doves that bnild their nests 
among the branches, is a circumstance of additional 
attraction in a scene which is, upon the whole, not much 
solemnized by the grotesque and_ flaringly-coloured 
sepulchres of the Turks. For ourselves, we confess 
that, so far as solemnizing effects go, we have been 
much more moved by the forsaken and ruined ceme- 
teries to which we have just alluded, than even in the 
funeral. woods. of Constantinople, where the turbaned 
Stones frequently disturbed our solemnity quite as 
much as the absurdities too often inscribed on the head- 
stones in an Iinelish church-yard. 

Although the Turks have no notion of walking for 
exercise or pleasure, they have, perhaps, as much relish 
as any people for pleasant situations; and, whether 
from this cause or reward to the dead, they like to 
resort, in fine weather, to the cemeterics, and perform 
their devotions near the graves of those who have been 
taken from them. The women frequent the “ Cities of 
Silence ” very generally on Fridays, on which day they 
believe that their friends awaken to the consciousness 
of their former ties and relations. ‘They may then be 
seen very affectingly grouped around the graves, from 
which they carefully remove weeds and other unseemly 
things, and which they as carefully decorate with gar- 
lands, myrtles, and flowers. It is remarkable that the 
Turkish females are just as reserved near the graves of 
the dead, as in the presence of living men. This, no 
doubt, arises from the idea, already stated, that the 
inmates of the graves around are sensible of their 
presence, and the practice is countenanced by the 
example of no less a person than the ‘* Mother of the 
Faithful,” of whom it is recorded in that curious work 
the * Mischat ul Masabih,’ a book of traditions concern- 
ing Mohammed, that ‘* Aayeshah said, ‘I was accustomed 
to go to the house where the Prophet and Abubekr 
were interred, without my upper garments; for I said 
to inyself, nobody lies here but iny husband, who is the 
messenger of God; and my father, who is Abubekr the 
Pure’ But whem Omar-ibn-al-Khattab died* and was 
buried there, I never entered but with my body com- 
pletely covered, on acconnt of my modesty towards 
Omar, who was a stranger.’ ” 7 

Our wood-cut, which represents part of a Turkish 
burial-ground with a funeral approaching, shows, in 
considerable variety, the different kinds of tombs and 
monuments which such places exhibit, and will convey 
a vencral idea of the funeral processions. The deceasec 
is carried to the grave on a litter, or In an open barrow 3 
branches are carried before and behind it, and his 
The body has many 
bearers; for, as it passes through the streets, devout 
men run from their houses and .assist in carrying: It 
a little way, this being considered a very meritorious 
action. ‘The corpse is always interred without a coffin,, 
and in some parts of Turkey is wrapped up im cotton, 
while in others the best of the deceased person's 
ordinary dresses is employed. , 


Diffusion of Books.—If it be true that a wise man, likea 
good refiner, can gather gold out of the drossiest volume, 
and that a fool will be a fool with the best book,—yea, or 
without a book,—there 1s no reason that we should deprive 
a wise man of any advantage to his wisdom, while we scek 
to restrain from a fool that which, being restrained, will be 
no hindrance to lus folly —JAZitfon. 


eae 


238 


The Value of a Good Book.—As good almost kill a man 
as kill a good book: who kills a man kills a reasonable 
oreature-—God's image; but he who destroys a good book 
ills reason itself,— kills the image of God, as it were, in the 
eye. Many a man lives a burden to the earth; but a good 
book is the precious life-blood cf a master-spint, embalmed 
and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life. “Tis true 
no age can restore a life whereof, perhaps, there 1s no great 
loss; the revolutions of ages do not often recover the loss of 
2 rejected truth, for the want of which whole nations fare 
the worse.—Milton. Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed 


Printing. 


Theories. —The human mind feels restless and dissatisfied 
under the anxieties of ignorance. It longs for the repose 
of conviction; and to gain this repose it will often rather 
precipitate its conclusions than wait for the tardy lights of 
observation and experiment. There is such a thing, too, as 
the love of simplicity and system—a prejudice of the under- 
standing which disposes it to include all the phenomena of 
nature under a few sweeping generalities—an indolence 
which loves to repose on the beauties of a theory, rather than 
encounter the fatiguing detail of its evidences—a painful re- 
luctance to the admission of facts which, however weak, break 
in upon the majestic simplicity which we would fain ascribe 
to the laws and operations of the universe.—Chalmers. 


Milton's View of the Mind of London.—Behold now this 
vast city; the shop of war hath not there more anvils and 
hammers working, to fashion out the plates and instruments 
of armed justice in defence of beleaguered truth, than there 
be pens and heads there, sitting by their studious lamps, 
musing, searching, revolving new notions and ideas where- 
With to present us with their nomage and fealty, the ap- 
proaching reformation: others as fast reading, trying all 
things, assenting to the force of reason and convincement. 
What could a man require more from a nation so plant and 
so prone to seek after knowledge? What wants there to 
such a towardly ahd pregnant soil, but wise and faithful 
labourers, to make a knowing people a nation of prophets, of 
sages, aud of worthies ? We reckon more than five months 
vet to harvest; there need not be five weeks had we but 
eyes to lift up ;—the fields are white already. Where there 
is much desire to learn, there of necessity will be much 
arguing, much writing, many opinions ; for opinion in good 
men is but knowledge in the making. A little generous 
prudence, a little forbearance of one another, and some grain 
of charity, might win all these diligences to join and unite 
in one general and brotherly search after truth. I doubt 
not, if some great and worthy stranger should come among 
us, wise to discern the mould and temper of a people, and 
how to govern it, observing the high hopes and aims, the 
culigent alacrity of our extended thoughts and reasonings, 
but that he would ery out, as Pyrrhus did, admiring the 
Roman docility and courage, ‘‘ If such were my Epirots, 1 
would not despair the greatest design that could be at- 
tempted to make a church or kingdom happy.’—Speech 
for the Liberty of Unlicensed Priniing. 


Compulsory Service.—My. Morier relates that “an Ar- 
menian of Shiraz was unfortunately renowned for playing 
excellently on the Ramouncha*, The fame of his skill 
reached the king's ears, and he was immediately ordered 
up to court on the charge of being the best kamouncha 
player in his majesty’s dominions. The poor man, who 
had a wife and family, and commercial relations at Shiraz, 
was, durnig our stay, detained at Tehran expressly to teach 
the king's women the art of playing on the kamouncha.” 
Yhe author adds in a note:—‘ This impress was by no 
incans peculiar to Persia. Many instances might be given 
from our own history down to the reign of Elizabeth; but 
it is sufficient to refer to those connected with the subject of 
the text. Henry VI. pressed minstrels “ for the king's 
solace ;” Kdward Vi. thus supplied his choir; and in the 
reign of Elizabeth, under one of the commissioners to take 
up ail singing children for the use of tle Queen's chapel, 
TPusser, the author of the ‘ Five Hundred Points of Good 
Husbandry,’ was impressed. 

“Thence for my voice, I must not choice, 
Away of force, like posting-horse, 
For sundry men had placards then 
Such child to take.” 


* A species of violin, 








THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


| June 21, 
SELF-SUPFORTING DISPENSARIES. 


How the poor may be best enabled to meet the con- 


tingency of sickness, is a question, the importance of 
which can hardly be too highly estimated; and we 
should, therefore, feel disposed to give our best atten- 
tion to any plan which proposed to remedy the evils 
which seem to have been developed in the working of the 
ordinary modes by which relief is administered to the 
sick poor. But a plan which has been tried on a large 
scale, and appears to have worked well and beneficially, 
comes with still stronger claims to our attention. Such 
are the self-supporting dispensaries, the plan of which 
was first brought forward by Mr. Smith, a surgeon at 
Southam, in Warwickshire, at a public meeting held at 
that place in 1823. This meeting was attended by 
several members of “‘ A Committee for conducting an 
Inquiry into the state of the Sick Poor,” consisting of 
members of Parliament, clergymen, and medical and 
other ‘eentlemen. These individuals did not consider 
themselves prepared to give a decided opinion concern- 
ing the probable operation of ali the parts of the plan ; 
but they determined to co-operate with Mr. Smith in 
the establishment at Southam of such a dispensary as 
was proposed, in order that the practicability of the 
proposal might be fairly tried. The plan of such esta- 
blishments 1s open to local variations, but generally 
they may be thus described as now actually existing. 

In the self-supporting dispensaries there are gene- 
rally three classes of patients, though sometimes only 
two. The first, denominated the free class, or inde- 
pendent members, consists of those artisans or labourers 
who are able and willing to maintain theinselves and 
their families by theirown industry; but who, never- 
theless, are unable to afford the charges of private 
medical attendance. Those of the working classes who 
are desirous of being admitted to the benefits of the 
charity on the terms of the free class, are required to 
present a certificate from two of the honorary sub- 
scribers, stating that they are persons proper to be 
included among the independent members. Sometimes 
the certificate of one honorary subscriber, or of two 
respectable neighbours, is considered sufficient, and the 
rules of the Coventry Dispensary seem only to require 
that a statement of name, age, residence, and occupa- 
tion, should be left at the dispensary with a deposit of 
one month’s subscription. ‘Lhe eligibility of the appli- 
cant then becomes a matter of consideration with the 
sub-committee ; and im all cases as mneh facility is 
endeavoured to be given to the admission of members 
as can be made consistent with the desire to secure the 
benefits of the institution to the proper objects. 

These free members are at all times, and for unli- 
mited periods, entitled to such medical or surgical assist- 
ance as they may require, and to the privilege of being 
attended before the gratuitous patients on the terms of 
the following rule :—‘* Every free member above twelve 
years of age shall pay one penny, and under that age 
oue halfpenny a week ; except in a family consisting of 
more than two children, when one penny a week shall 
be considered sufficient for all under twelve years of 
age.’ ‘The subscriptions of these free members form a 
fund, the balance of which, after deducting the cost o. 
medicines, is annually divided among tne medical gen- 
tlemen in sums varying with the extent of their services, 
The contributions of honorary subscribers form a dis- 
tinct fund, from which all the expenses of the esta- 
blishment are defrayed; and, according to its amonnt, 
grants are made from it to enable ladies’ committees, 
at the recommendation of the surgeons, to furnish loans 
of linen, to provide nurses, and to administer cordials 
and broths to the sick members. This separation of 
funds seenis to us a very valuable part of the system, as 
the members are thus assured that no part of their little 


| subscriptions go to the support of an establishment 


1834] 


which they might consider expensive, but that the whole 
is directly appropriated to provide for them the best 
medical assistance that can be obtained; while, on tlie 
other hand, their independence is gratified by knowing 
that the fund from which their relief is more immedi- 
ately drawn has been raised by themselves, and is not 
palpably assisted by the contributions of the rich and 
charitable. 

The rules of these institutions provide that either a 
certain number of regularly-educated medical practi- 
tioners, resident in the district, shall be elected officers, 
or, without any limitation, that all the regniarly- 
educated surgeons of the neighbourhood, who are 
willing, shall be attached to the establishment, in either 
case leaving to the free members the choice from the 
list of officers of the medical attendant they prefer. 
By this means, and by the consciousness of each mem- 
ber that he pays for the attendance and medicine he 
receives, the very desirable object is attained of bringing 
the relation between the practitioner and the patient to 
as near a point of resemblance as possible to that which 
obtaius in private practice. : 

Besides the free members, these institutions extend 
the benefit of their assistance to two other classes of 
persons, both consisting of those to whom gratuitous 
relief is afforded. The first of these is called the 
‘“‘ Charity Class,” and consists of persons recommended, 
in the first instance, by the honorary subscribers ; and 
who, after due investigation, have been found to be 
willing, but unable, from temporary sickuess, losses, or 
inadequate wages, to pay for private medical assistance, 
or to subseribe to the dispensaries. With reference to 
this class, it is stated, in a pamphlet printed for private 
circulation, by Dr. J. P. Kay of Manchester, of which, 
together with other papers, we avail ourselves in pre- 
paring this article, that “ many are drawn into this 
class from the influence of misdirected charities, that 
tend to make them rely on other resources than their 
own industry; and therefore, in the commencement of 
any measures of reform in our public charitable institu- 
tions, this class will, of course, be much greater than 
it will ultimately become.” Yet it is gratifying to find 
that the claim for this mode of assistance is by no 
ineans extensive. ‘Thus we find from the ‘ Report of 
the Dispensary of Wellsbourne in Warwickshire,’ that 
of 1223 patients only two or three had applied tor 
the Charity Ticket—‘ a circumstance,” it is. added, 
“ strongly illustrative of the desire of the honest English 
labourer to be independent, when an opportunity 1s 
afforded to him of providing against sickness and 
necessity, by a small contribution from his earnings.” 

The third class of patients is composed of persons 
dependent on the parish, and for whose medical treat- 
ment it is usual for parishes to contract, on the lowest 
terms possible, with some surgeon. ‘This system is 
stated to have been found very defective, if not per- 
nicious, in its operation ; aud where these dispensaries 
have been established, the parishes have very generally 
transferred the medical care of. sick paupers to them, 
purchasing this advantage by the annual payment of a 
certain sum for every hundred inhabitants. 

The Committee, to which we referred at the com- 
mencement of our statement, conclude their ‘ Report,’ 
which was published in 1827, with expressing a strong 
opinion in favour of the institutions, the leading principles 
of which we have stated; and which have been, more 
recently, favourably noticed in the ‘ Appendix to the 
Report’ of the Poor-Law Commissioners. Many such 
dispensaries are now in active and useful operation in 
the midland counties. We are best informed concern- 
ing the ‘* Coventry Benevolent* or. Self-supporting 

* We are much melined to doubt whether it be prudent, or 


calculated to encourage that feeling of independence which these 
dispensaries desire tu foster, to speak of them as © charities,’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


239 


? 


Dispensary ;’”’ and the third report, delivered in April 
last, enables us to make a few statements, which will 
show how extensively these institutions are already 
working. 'The receipts from.free members, in the last 
year, amounted to 400/. 12s.; and the honorary fund 
to 254/. The patients attended in that year were 
1668, of whom 515 were visited at their own hvuses: 
and the total number of patients attended during the 
two years and a half since the commencement of the 
institution is 5610. 

The various documents before us, some of which 
emanate from parties unconnected with such  institu- 
lions, concur in stating the ‘strong tendency of these 
dispensaries to prevent the increase of paupers. The 
first application for parish relief, on the part of the 
honest and industrious poor, most commonly arises 
from tle occurrence of sickness in their families; and 
as, after the first application for such relief in any shape, 
the shame of solicitation is destroyed, and the pride of 
independence broken, it is certainly most desirable to 
place within the reach of the deserving poor that 
prompt and efficient medical aid during illness which 
would shorten the interruption given to profitable 
uidustry,.and restore the labourer’s family to health, 
and the labourer himself to his work, unembarrassed 
by debt, and undegraded by pauperism. | 

It is also not the least important feature in such 
institutions that they give to the free member the right 
of applying for advice in the earliest stage of sickness; 
whereas, in ordinary cases, the dread of a doctor’s bill, 
the dislike to beg a charity ticket, and the ereater dis- 
like of an application to the parish, occasion such delay 
in the application for advice as to insure protracted 
illness, the permanent loss of health, and, consequently, 
of the means of subsistence, and even the loss of life 
itself. " 

We cannot better conclude the consideration of this 
subject than with the concluding sentences of Dr. Kay’s 
pamphlet. ‘ if we wish permanently to ameliorate the 
condition of the working classes, we must teach them to 
help themselves. We must show them that what others 
can do for them is utterly insignificant and worthless, 
compared with the good which may result from their 
own virtuous exertions. We must make it evident that 
in the exercise of moral restraint, and by industry, 
sobriety, a peaceful demeanour, an economical inanage- 
ment of their, resources, and a fore-sighted provision 
for the day of calamity, from which few are exempt, 
they may escape, t le misery into which imprudent 
narmages, insobrie Yo. rregularity, turbulence, in- 
HA og aud nnprovidence, plunge men giited by 


ee a 


hature with every. quality necessary to procure happi- 
ness. Its desirable that we should be no longer instru- 
mental in diminishing that moble self reliance which 
has been the boast of the Kinglish peasantry, and in 
substituting for the generous pride of independence a 
sickly eraving for sympathy. Let not our artisans be 
made lean and supple sycophants, cringing to obfain 
from external aid that which they have neither. strength 
nor virtue to achieve for themselves ; but let us rather 
encourage them in the exercise of those virtues which 
will teach them self-respect.” 





BIRMINGHAM TOWN-HALL. 


Turis magnificent building, which has been erected 
by the public spirit of the inhabitants of Birmingham 
for municipal purposes, for public meetings, and for 
musical performances, is rapidly approaching completion. 
and “benevolent institutions.’ These, in common speech, are 
synonymous terms; and, although these institutions are eminently 
benevolent, in the proper sense of the word, it does not seem very 


considerate to tell the free members that the relief for which they 
pay is a charity.” Even such little things deserve attention. 


240 


The triennial musical festival is fixed to be held in it 
during the next October. We may therefore, without 
impropriety, describe the general character of the 
structure. 

Our wood-cut exhibits an accurate view of the ele- 
vation. The large proportions of the Hall, its com- 
manding height, and its splendid series of Corinthian 
columns which run completely round upon a rustic 
arcade, render it not only the most imposing building 
in Birmingham, but one with which very few modern 
erections can compete. 

The internal arrangement of this building exhibits 
a large saloon or hail, 140 feet in length, 65 feet wide 
clear of the walls, and 65 feet high from floor to ceiling, 
with corridors of communication running along on each 
side of it on its own level, and staircases leading to 
upper corridors to give access to galleries. The cor- 
riders are low, the two tiers being within the height of 
the basement externally. As the Hall is intended prin- 
cipally for musical entertainments, one end of it 1s occu- 
pied by a magnificent organ and surrounding orchestral 
arrangements. This organ is of enormous dimensions, 
and has cost 30007. Two narrow galleries run along 
the sides of the Hall, and a large deep gallery occupies 
the other end; rooms for the accommodation of the 
performers who may be employed are formed at the 
upper end.of the building and under the orchestra. 

The building is lengthened externally to 160 feet 
by the projection of the arcaded pavement in front to 
Paradise Street, over the causeway. The height of 
the basement above the causeway is 23 feet,—the 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


' ' a ( ; ¢ «ig ' 





[Junr 21, 1834, 


columns resting upon its upper surface or platform are, 
with their entablature, 45 feet, and the pediment form- 
ing the frontispiece is 15 feet high,—making a total 
heicht of 83 feet from the causeway to the acroterium. 
The columnar ordinance employed is in imitation of 
the Roman foliated or Corinthian example of the 
temple of Jupiter Stator; the columns are fluted, and 
the entablature is greatly enriched, though not to the 
full and elaborate extent of the original. The structure 
is of brick, faced with Anglesea marble, of which latter 
material the columns and their accessories are composed. 
The bricks were made on the spot of the earth taken 
out of the foundation. The stones were cut and worked 
by machinery with steam power, the flutings were 
made by the same means, and by the application of an 
invention, it is understood, of one of the contractors. 
Another ingenious invention, consisting of a species of 


-‘eraning lever-beam on rollers, was applied for the 


purpose of hoisting the framed tie-beams and principals 
of the roof from the ground up to the walls. The time 
given for the completion of the edifice was eighteen 
months, and the total cost was to be 18,000/., though 
it is understood that the marble used in it has been 
supplied by the proprietor of the quarries free of cost, 
for the purpose of bringing -the article into public 
repute. The design for the Binningham ‘Town-Hall 
was supplied by Messrs. Hanson and Welsh of Liver- 
pool, who were also the contracting builders for carry- 
ing it into execution. It is’ much to be regretted that 
the enterprise of the contractors has left them con- 
siderable losers. 


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The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Usefnl Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARULES KNIGHT, 92, LUDGATE STREET 


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Print by Winncis Crom. Duke Street, Lambeth 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


~ociety for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





143.1] 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





[June 28, 1834. 





THE ISLAND OF ISCHIA. 


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View of the Island of Ischia.] 


Tue beautiful Gulf of sites, taken in its enlarged: 
sense, extends from the promontory terminated by Cape 
Misenum to the Sorrento peninsula, ending in, Cape 
Minerva, now called: Della Campanella. The rugged, 
rocky island ‘of Capri stands ‘off: Cape Minerva, ‘at one 
side of the entrance into this magnificent basin; and the 


o 
larger, loftier, and. volcanic island of ischig, Stands ati 
the other side, off Cape Misenum: -. : 


The distance of Ischia'from the city of —a is not 
above twenty miles, and being only three or four miles 
from the attractions of Baia, ‘Cuma, the Fusaro lake, 
&c., it is frequently visited by travellers. The salubrity 
of the air, the beauty of the country, the excellence of 
ive St waters; its baths, its wine, fruit, and other 
produce, also frequently attract the Neapolitan gentry, 
who are not much given to travelling or investigating 
the wonders with which nature surrounds them. A 
small uninhabited rock, called Vivara, and the densely- 
peopled and pretty island of Procida, intervene between 
Ischia and Cape Misenum. From the southernmost 
point of Procida’to the nearest point of Ischia is a 
distance somewhat less than two miles. From many 
pots of view the’ two islands’ seem as one ; the lofty 
mountains and the great cone of Ischia rising to the 
eye from the comparatively low lands of Procida as if 
from a base. It is curious to observe that Virgil, who 
must have known both islands well, calls ‘Procida 
‘* hioh,” whereas, in fact, Ischia is lofty, and Procida 
(as we have just said) comparatively low. It would 
be as reasonable to call the Jura ridge, in the immediate 


Vou, II, 


 neighYourlioad of the tor - Alps, lofty, or (to take 
amore familiar illustration) to speak of the height of 
the houses in: St. Paul’s Churchyard while the imposing 
elevation of the cathedral is-before our eyes. 

Few places, show more: plainly, or with more beauty 


and effect, their volcanic origin than the Island of 
“Ischia. 
chasms in the mountains’ sides, the deep ravines acros 
the < plains, 


The shape of its mountains, the fissures and 


the lava heaped upon lava, the tracts 
covered with ¢ufo and lapille, grey ashes, and sulphur ; 
the smoke, the pungent steam—the hot mineral waters 


‘that gush out in almost every direction—all these and 


other things denote volcanic action, and offer a mag. 
nificent scene of. study to the geologist. But in these 
regions everything is volcanic. Besides ‘Vesuvius, a 
dozen craters—some in repose for many centuries, and 
some that were in fearful activity not many generations 
back,—might be counted close at hand.: There lie, in 
wonderful contiguity, the hollows of Agnano, -Astroni, 
the Solfatara, the Avernus, and others, ach of sane 
in its day has poured forth. smoke ‘and flames, ashes, 
and liquid fire. A little farther off, the sea is dotted 
with the:islands of Vendotena, Ponza, Palmerola, and 
half a score of islets, which have all been raised above 
the waves by the action of internal fire. Still farther 
off, and to the south, Mount Stromboli rises from the 
bosom of the Mediterranean, and is in almost constant 
activity. If we extend the radii, taking Ischia as the 
centre, we should add an imposing list. The Lipari 


islands, Mount Etna, Mount Vultur, and many other 
2] 


242 


volcanos, extinct or occasionally in action, would be 
sncluded within a comparatively small circumference. 
The picturesque forms and beauty, the luxurnance of 
soil, resulting from these terrific agents and the con- 
vulsions of nature, are most astonishing. 

- The most striking feature of Ischia is the mountain 
represented in our engraving, which may be said to 
crown the whole island. This mountain was anciently 
called Epopeus ; its modern name among thie islanders 
is Monte San Nicolo (St. Nicholas’ Mount), but they 
sometimes call it Epomeo. A steep, rough road, in 
part ‘over fields of black lava, and in part running 
along dangerous precipices, leads to the summit, which 
is between three and four thousand feet above the level 
of the sea, and commands one of the finest views to be 
met with in the Mediterranean. Nearly one-half of the 
southern coast of Italy is spread before the spectator ;— 
in the rear of this admirably-varied line of coast and of 
promontories,—such as one sees In Claude’s pictures,— 
the long, grey chain of the Apennines shows itself. In 
no part of the world is noble scenery enriched with such 
classic or with so many associations. ‘This is a concen- 
trating point for ancient poetry and history. Sitting 
on the lofty cone of Epopeus, and hearing the names 
of all the places visible from that spot mentioned, the 
informed traveller is made to go, almost unconsciously, 
throuch the whole course of his classical studies. Not 
only is there no rock without a hame, but no name 
without ao fame of some sort or other—ancient or 
modern, consecrated by Grecian, Roman, or Italian 
cenius. The scenery of half of Homer’s * Odyssey “— 
of half of Virgil’s ‘ Aineid,’—is here. The hirth-place 
of Tasso is close at hand. The Circean promontory, 
the Syren rocks, the cape where Aineas buried his 
trumpeter, whose name was conferred for ever on that 
cape*, seem almost within arm’s length of the traveller. 
it would require pages merely to name the spots thus 
illustrated that are within sight. Among the associa- 
tions in the more sober walk of history we will mention 
those connected with a sight of the solitary shore at 
Patria, where the great Scipio died, complaining of his 
country’s ingratitude—of the marsh of Minturnum, 
where Marius was found hidden, but whence he escaped 
to complete the strange drama of his life—of the melan- 
choly hill-side near Gaéta, where the fugitive Cicero 
was overtaken and slain,—of the small island of Nisida, 
where Brutus parted from his noble wife; and (to omit 
many others) of Cape Misenum, already alluded to, 
which, after witnessing many changes, became the 
scene of the captivity and death of Augustulus, the last 
Roman Emperor of the West. 

But we must descend from these lofty contempla- 
tions, and from the summit of Mount Expopeus. Not 
far from this summit, which is formed of greyish lava, 
a crater is still very well defined, though it should 
appear that the eruptions on record did not proceed 
from that mouth, but from various openings much 
Jower down the mountain. ‘The last great eruption 
occurred as far back as the year 1302. It was terrific! 
The shaking and crumbling away of the mountain 
overthrew or buried some of the towns and villages, 
and others of them were consumed and their sites 
covered by the torrents of lava that poured down the 
mountain’s sides, and, in some instances, flowed far 
out to sea, forming, as they cooled, long ridges of coal- 
black, ragged rocks, which, for five hundred years, have 
resisted all the violence of the waves. ‘The north end of 
the island presents a sad but sublime picture. Tora 
great length and breadth the land is covered with the 
roughest and darkest Java, while out at sea, with the 
least breath of wind, the water roars and foams among 
the black lava ridges and islets and rocks formed by 
many successive explosions. 

* Now always called “ Capo Miseno.”’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[J UNE 28, 


Not.far from these enormous lava beds stands Foria, 
the largest and most populous town in the island, 
though not the capital. ‘This town is neatly built, and 
the clean, white walls of its houses contrast singularly 
with the black heaps of volcanic matter scattered all 
about it. Like each of the towns, and indeed nearly 
every village on the island, Foria contains places of 
worship built in a capricious but not disagreeable style 
of architecture. It is principally occupied by that 
portion of the islanders that get their living by fishing 
and niaritime pursuits. 

The capital, which is also called Ischia, stands nearly 
at the other end of the island, in a pretty little bay 
opposite to the islet of Vivara. The bay and town 
are, or might be, defended by an old castle, which, in 
the most picturesque manner imaginable, is perched on 
the top of a high, detached rock, which is joined to the 
island of Ischia by a short, narrow isthmus of sand. 
It is at this point that travellers, who generally come 
by way of Procida, approach and land; and a striking 
point it is. Casamiccio, another town, and now the 
most frequented by strangers, as convemiences for 
taking mineral and volcanic mud-baths have been 
amply provided, stands on a spur of Monnt St. Michael, 
and is pleasantly ventilated and shaded by trees of fine 
growth. Detached casini, or villas, commanding the 
most beautiful views, can be procured at a cheap rate 
in various parts of the island, which contains still 
another town called Panza, and a number of well- 
peopled villages. ‘The circumference of Ischia is about 
twenty Enelish miles; and the whole population is 
about 25,000. 

Though much of this curions island is occupied by 
rocks, lava, and uncovered tufo, or rent into chasms, 
and long, deep fissures, still much remains for the 
purposes of cultivation; and, where these tracts occur, 
nothing can well be fancied more productive or more 
pleasing to the eye. Extensive vineyards that produce 
an excellent white wine (a very important article of 
export), orchards and gardens furnishing abundance of 
oranges, citrons, melons, and almost every European 
variety of fruit and vegetables, fields of Indian corn, or 
other grain, and of cotton, groves of chestnut-trees and 
ilices, hedge-rows formed of aloes, myrtle, and other 
sweet-smelling shrubs, delightfully variegate the surface 
of the island, and now tend to hide, and now suddenly 
reveal, white villages and scattered cottages. ‘There is 
another feature too characteristic of Ischia to be passed 
over in silence:—the chasms, and steep, narrow dells 
that occur so frequently are, for the most part, shaded 
by a compact and vigorous growth of trees ;—the 
stranger, who may suffer from the intense heat of 
summer (the season when the baths are most effica- 
cious), may always retreat to one of these, and find, at 
any hour of the hottest day, and when the glare of 
lieht is painful in the rest of the island, shade and a 
refreshing coolness. Since the peace, Ischia has been 
eradually rising in reputation as a place of resort for 
the sick. ‘The diseases in which the use of the waters 
in drinking or bathing, and of the mud-baths, prove 
most heneficial, are rheumatism under most of its 
varieties, cutaneous disorders, &c. ‘Lhe Neapolitan 
government have an establishment on the island, to 
which considerable numbers of soldiers and sailors in 
the royal service are sent every year for the recovery of 
their health. Many poor Neapolitans are also sent 
annually, and supported during their stay by associa- 
tions of charitable individuals. 

Kight years ago,.when the writer of this short notice 
was at Ischia, nearly all the comfortable apartment$ and 
neat villas were let to foreigners, and some new ones 
were building. Like some of the baths on the Rhine, 
though not in such numbers, the baths of Ischia could 


| then boast specimens of most of the great nations,— 


_—— 


1634.] 


there were French, Germans, Russians, Poles, Hun- 
garians, ;nglishinen, Americans, &c. 

The inhabitants of the island, and particularly the 
mariners and the vine-dressers, who form the two more 
numerous classes, are a gay, yood-natured, inoffensive 
people, requiring nothing but an improved education to 
make them very estimable. The women of the pea- 
santry are remarkable for the beauty of their persons 
and the erace of their costume, which is never varied, 
but is the same forall of them. Both their countenance 
and their dress have a striking affinity to the features 
and costume of the Greeks. But this resemblance is 
still more remarkable in the neighbouring island of 
Procida, where it is rare to meet with a young woman 
that is not handsome, and gracefully or picturesquely 
attired. 

The beautiful green and mottled-green lavas that 
are so extensively turned and made into snuff-boxes, 
ornaments, paper-pressers, &c. at Naples, and thence 
exported to England and other countries, do not come 
from Mount Vesuvius, but from the island of Ischia. 
The lavas of Vesuvius that are capable of being manu- 
factured are blackish, reddish spotted with grey, and 
grey, but never green. Ischia gives the greens and, 
in addition, some other hues, as well as all the colours 
produced by Vesuvius. Some of the green lavas of 
Ischia are transparent and prettily variewated. 

Lhe beautiful and accomplished Vittoria Colonna 
spent several years in solitude on this island after the 
death of her husband, the Marquis of Pescara. The 
villa where she resided and wrote several of her best 
poems is still preserved. The original drawing, from 
which our engraving is taken, was made by a Neapolitan 
artist on the spot. 


SLAVERY IN THE EAST.’ 


We had lately occasion to describe tle condition of a 
slave in the East as highly favourable; and in proceed: 
ing to substantiate this position by more detailed state- 
ments than our: limits then allowed us to furnish, the 
remark cannot be well avoided, that, in proportion to 
the political freedom of a nation, its slaves have been 
unfavourably situated. It is strange, and might on 
a cursory view seem unaccountable, that the ‘Turk and 
the Persian should more distinctly perceive, and more 
cheerfully recognise, in his slave, the rights which 
each member of the human family possesses, than the 
Spaniard or the Portuguese; and that these should do 
the same more readily than the English, the Dutch, and 
the North Americans. In the East, and in the Spa- 
nish colonies, a mode is lewalized in which the slave is 
enabled to accumulate property to purchase his own 
freedom: but in the United States the law does not 
recognise in the slave the right to accumulate property 
for the purpose ; and in some of our own West India 
colonies the master formerly incurred a fine of 1002, 
currency by the manumission of a slave. Again, in the 
East, ‘* born slaves,’ or those who were enslaved in early 
age, are quite as well instructed as the mass of the 
people, and perliaps better; and latterly, in our own 
colonies, the Jaw las encouraged the instruction of the 
slaves in reading, writing, and the principles of re- 
ligion. But in many of the slave-holding states of 
North America very severe penalties are affixed to 
the offence of teaching a slave to read or write, 
and we have some rather recent instances of their being 
enforced with considerable rigour. We rejoice ex- 
ceedingly in the measures which have recently been 
taken for the abolition of negro slavery in the British 
dominions. As the condition of our colonial slaves 
has been more fully laid before the public than per- 
haps that of any other class of men whatever, we 
shall presume that our readers are so well acquainted 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


243 


with it as to render it needless for us to institute a 
detailed comparison or contrast between it and the 
forms of slavery which we now propose to exhibit. We 
say forms, because on consideration we feel that it 
will be within the limits of our design to preface 
an account of slavery under the Moslem by a brief 
statement of the most favourable form in which it has 
appeared in a Christian country. This was under one 
of the most despotic of governments, that of Brazil a 
quarter of a century since, when its circumstances were 
considerably different from what they are now. Weare 
not prepared to show to what extent, if any, the con- 
dition of the slave has been modified by the alteration, 
but we proceed to say what it was. Besides Sundays, 
the calendar gave the slave thirty-five holidays in the 
course of the year; and the law compelled the master 
to manumit him for the price at which he was originally 
purchased, or at his present value, if greater than the 
prime cost. This law was sometimes evaded indeed ; 
but general opinion was decidedly in its favour, and 
the clergy employed their great influence in giving 
effect to its provisions. The law in itself, as well as 
an equally favourable law in the then Spanish colonies, 
might be set at nought; but, as it was necessary 
to respect public opinion, it seldom happened that 
a slave who had obtained sufficient money for the 
purpose found much difficulty in purchasing his free- 
dom. A woman who had reared ten children was 
entitled to her freedom: but this law was more easily 
evaded than the other; or, more probably, as the chil- 
dren remained slaves, the tenderness of a mother’s 
heart seldom allowed her to separate her lot from theirs, 
by urging her claim to freedom. Many-slaves were 
manumitted by the wills of their deceased masters, and 
sometimes wealthy persons indulged in this act of 
charity during their lives. More frequently than by 
either of those methods, the entail of slavery was cut 
off by another law, which provided that when a negro 
child was presented at the baptismal font, the master 
was bound to accept five pounds, if offered, as the price 
of its freedom. By these various means considerable 
numbers became free; and to the infinite honour of 
the Brazilians, above the English and above the Ame- 
ricans, be it spoken, that, when once the barrier of 
slavery was removed, little difference was made by law 
between the different castes, and less by public opinion ; 
so that there was no country which presented so few 
obstacles to that amalgamation between the white and 
the coloured person by which prosperity and safety are 
best secured in couutries so circumstaniced. 

In Mohammedan countries the most unfavourable 
portion of the slave’s existence, as such, 1s while in the 
hands of the Geelab or slave-merchant, and until he is 
sold to one who designs to keep him permanently. In 
the first instance, if negroes, they suffer much during 
the journey from the place of purchase to that of sale. 
For instance, it has been known that in the journey 
from Sennaar and Darfoor to the slave-mart at Cairo, 
or even the intermediate one at Siout, the loss in a 
slave-caravan, of men, women, camels, and _ horses, 
amounted to not less than 4000. The circumstances of 
the mart itself scarcely appear in a more favourable aspect 
than those of the journey ; whether we regard the miser- 
able beings, as in the market at Cairo, crowded together 
in inclosures like the sheep-pens in Smithfield-market, 
amidst the abominable stench and uncleanness which 
result from their confinement ;—whether, as in an- 
other great mart at Muscat, we perceive the dealer 


| walking to and fro with a stick in his hand between 


two lots of ill-clothed boys and girls whom he is offering 
for sale, proclaiming aloud, as he passes, the price 
fixed on each; or else leading his strings of slaves 
through the narrow and dirty streets, and “ calling out 
their prices as he exhibits them in aa rani wee hate 


944 THE PENNY 
auction: *‘ number one—handsome young man, five 
hundred piastres ; number two—a little older, but very 
healthy and strong, four hundred piastres;’ and so on 
till he has described the whole string of miserable 
beings *;” or whether, finally, the white slaves, male 
or female, are more privately exhibited, in good con- 
dition and gay attire, while the dealer, in the true 
jockey style, expatiates on their good qualities or ac- 
complishments, which they are required to exhibit. 

The slaves thus variously exhibited usually appear 
quite indifferent to the process, or only show an 
anxiety to be sold, from knowing that, as_ slaves 
finally purchased, their condition will be much amelio- 
rated. The slave in eastern countries, after he is trained 
to service, attains the condition of a favoured domestic. 
Except at a few sea-ports, he is very rarely put to hard 
labour: there are no fields in Mohammedan Asia tilled 
by slaves; no manufactories in which they must toil ; 
their occupations are wholly of a domestic nature, and 
eood behaviour is rewarded with kindness and con- 
fidence, which raises them in the community to which 
they belong. A slave, if of competent ability, 1s early 
employed as an agent in traffic, and intrusted with his 
master’s property to a considerable amount. ~ _ 

The word “ Slave” is nowhere, in Mohammedan 
countries, a term of opprobrium, nor does it even convey 
the idea of a degraded condition. The white as well 
as the black slaves usually marry, and their children, 
who are termed ‘* House-born,” become, in a manner, 
part of the master’s family; and the former not un- 
frequently lose, by’ a marriage in the family of their 
master, or some other equally respectable connexion, 
all trace of their origin. Under such a mode of treat- 
ment, the house-born, and: often indeed the purchased 
slaves of the Mohammedans, are found to interest them- 
selves strongly in the welfare of their masters, and have 
been known to lay down their lives in their defence. 
They are in general perfectly trustworthy, and instances 
are not few in which they have been left sole heirs of 
the property their care has helped to accumulate. It is 
not at all unusual among the Mohammedans to grant 
small pieces of land to a slave, or teach him a profession, 
that he may, through industry and frugality, attain the 
means of paying for his freedom, at the’ same time that 
he acquires habits which’ render him worthy of it. 
Mohammedans are also encouraged to manumit their 
slaves by a law which gives them a title to any property 
of which the person to whom they have granted freedom 
may die possessed, in default of natural heirs. 

The white slaves, who, in Turkey and Persia, are 
chiefly Georgians, frequently rise to the highest. offices 
in the state. - Many such have been grand viziers and 
pashas in. Turkey. Until a recent period, a body of 
such men, under the name of Mamelukes, were domi- 
nant in Egypt. The pashalie of Bagdad was, until 
about three years since, governed by a similar -body, 
and none but one who had been originally a Georgian 
slave could be pasha. A knowledge of these facts, and 
of the usually kind treatment which the slaves of Mo- 
hammedans receive, disposes Georgian parents to sell 
their own children to’ them; and this is one cause why 
that most beautiful and fertile of countries, Georgia, 
is in so miserable a condition. ‘How little slavery is 
dreaded is also shown by the fact that even Mohammedan 


parents or relatives are, in cases of emergency, ready | 


enough to offer their children for sale. During the 
famine which, a few years since, drove the people of 
Mosul to Bagdad, one could not pass the streets with- 
out being annoyed by the solicitations of parents to 
purchase their boys and girls for the merest trifle ; and 
even in Koordistan, when no constraining motive ap- 


* See ‘ Sketches of Persia,’ from which work. and Colonel John- 
son’s ‘ Journey from India to England,’ the substance of the two 
paragraphs immediately following is chiefly drawn, — 


MAGAZINE. [J ONE 28, 
peared to exist, we have been sounded as to our wil- 
lingness to purchase younger members of the family. 
Europeans in the East are scarcely considered amenable 
to any general rules, but Christians generally are not 
allowed to possess any other than negro slaves. 

Having stated at the outset the superior advantages 
which the law affords to the slave in absolute @overn- 
ments, it becomes an interesting inquiry to ascertain 
whence this difference arises ; for certainly we have no 
right to conclude that the Brazilian or the ‘Turk is 
naturally a more humane character than the Enelish- 
man or the North American. Several causes may be 
assioned ; none perhaps singly satisfactory, but suffi- 
cient, unitedly, to diminish our surprise. 

With regard to the mild aspect of slavery among the 
Moslems, it may be considered that the slaves in the 
East are not Africans so exclusively or so generally 
as to connect in the master’s mind the misfortune of 
slavery with the guilt of ‘ a skin not coloured like his 
own.” It can hardly be doubted that this simple cir- 
cumstance has had considerable influence in procuring 
for slaves generally better treatment than they might 
have obtained if uniformly negroes; and we are fully 
persuaded that if the single circumstance of colour had 
not been against the negro, he would long since have 
ceased to be a slave in the countries ruled by civilized 
men. Our general conduct is more usually influenced 
by our feelings and instincts than by our deliberate 
convictions; and it is possible that one who would 
cheerfully, and without hesitation, respond in the affir- 
mative to the negro appeal,—‘* Am I not a man and a 
brother ?”’—would yet, in his every-day feelings, regard 
the ebon hue, the flat nose, the thick lip, and the woolly 
hair, as the characteristics of a distinct and inferior 
race. These circumstances certainly do make a dis- 
tinction; and unfortunately it is too much the habit 
of all men,- whether white, black, brown, or red, to 
consider all others their inferiors in those circumstances 
in which they differ from tliemselves. 

The greater mildness of the slave-laws under despotic 
governments may perhaps be accounted for by the 
consideration that, in such states, the government is a 
party distinct from both the master and the slave, 
and is likely to act with more even-handed justice 
than the masters themselves would perhaps exhibit 
when furnished with those legislative influences which 
they possess in democratic. states. On the other 
hand, it may be questioned whether the mild codes of 
slave-law in South America had much favourable in- 
fluence on the condition of the actual slave. -The 
government and the master regarded the slave dif- 
ferently ; and the former, in wide and thinly-peopled 
countries, could not always oblige the master to carry 
its own kind intentions into effect. ,Thus the condi- 
tion of the slave was not upon.the whole perhaps 
better than in the English colonies and in the United 
States, where the law is more severe. This severity of 
the slave-code among themselves the North Americans 
account for by saying that, as the executive is intrusted 
with comparatively but little power, it is more necessary 
for them to provide for their safety by severe laws and 
rigid precautions than in monarchical states, in which 
the executive has usually a large military force at its 
disposal, . -, Wt: 

Manner of Clearing Chesinuts from the Husk in Savoy. 
—In this beautiful part of the king of Sardinia’s dominions 
they have the following manner of cleaning chestnuts from 
the husk :—climbing the lofty trees, they beat down the 
chestnuts with a long stick until the branches are entirely 
bare; they then collect all those that have not opened by 
the fall, and, piling them up in heaps, put a slight layer of 
earth over all, and leave them for a fortnight or three 
weeks, according to the state in which they were when they 


were covered. The earth is then removed, and the fruit 
beaten with sticks until the husks fall off, 


45 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 
CATHEDRAL OF ELY. 








SY SATS 





ty” 
ys 
Ly 









a 





its 


of the turrets. 


Formerly this 
so much embellishment has 


four hexagonal 
still a height of 


spire, which made_ 


It is 


. 


tower was terminated by a pointed 


the height of the whole 270 feet. 
the summit 


It 1s a massive square, as may be seen 
in most other cathedrals, derives 


turrets rising from the four angles. 
The west front, on which 


from the engraving, surmounted by 
215 feet from the ground to 


Kly Cathedral. | 
of the building. 


Ww Git 





4 


a 


Another 


North-West Vie 
Over the inter- 
r crowns the western termination | been bestowed 


: 
L 


The form of this fine old church 
the usual one of a cross, of which the longest limb, 


extending from north to south, is of the length of 535 


THe above is a view of the cathedral of Ely as seen 
feet, and the shorter, or transept, 190. 


from the north-west. 


¢ 


section of the two rises an elegant lantern tower of 


ai octagonal shape to the height of 170 feet. 


still Joftier towe 


IS 


246 


imposing effect almost entirely from this great tower. 
It is flanked on the south side by a handsome structure, 
terminating in two battlemented turrets; and the 
lower part of another building of the same form, which 
probably had never been completed, is also attached to 
it on the north. The entrance into the nave is under 
the centre of the tower, the great door opening into an 
elerant and capacious vestibule. ‘The view from the 
floor upwards through the tower is very striking. 

The high and insulated tract of ground forming 
what is called the Isle of Ely, and especially the spot 
on which the city of that name stands, dates its reputa- 
tion for sanctity from a period not long subsequent to 
the introduction of Christianity into Saxon Britain. A 
convent is said to have been built here about the year 
673 by Ethelfreda, a daughter of one of the kings of 
Kast Anglia, and a famous saint of those days. It 1s 
supposed that remains of the sacred edifices then erected 
still exist in some of the prebendal houses in the neigh- 
bourhood of the present cathedral. It was not till the 
year 1109 that the bishopric of Ely was established ; 
but the present church, which was then converted into 
a cathedral, or rather the original building of which 
the present church is an extension, had probably been 
founded some time before that event. Little, however, 
if any thing, beyond perhaps a portion of the founda- 
tion of the ancient abbey-church, remains in the present 
building. The oldest part of the cathedral is the tran- 
sept, which appears to be of the early part of the twelfth 
century. ‘The rest has been the work of successive 
ages. ‘The nave is ascertained to have heen finished 
some time before the year 1174. ‘The character of the 
architecture in this part of the church is nearly the 
same as in the transept. In both, the arches are not 
pointed but circular, the pillars are remarkable for 
their solidity and streneth, and the whole wears the 
heavy features of the early Norman style. 

Between 1174 and 1189 the great western tower was 
erected by Bishop Rydel. Its massive proportions still 
indicate the prevalence of the old idea of firmness and 
breadth as the principles of architectural effect; but the 
lighter and more ornamental character of the upper 
part of jt, composed of successive tiers of small columns, 
and freely admitting the light through numerous 
windows, shows the change that was even then 
rapidly coming over the art. The elewant vestibule 
projecting from the line of the front, and formerly 
known by the name of the Galilee, was added about 
the close of the same century by Bishop Eustachius. 

The part of the church to the east of the transept 
was begun by Bishop Hugh Northwold about 1234, 
and finished in 1250. During this interval also the 
present central tower was erected by the sub-prior 


of the convent, Alan de Walsingham, in the room of 


a former square-shaped tower, which had fallen on the 
2th of February, 1322. The three most westerly 
arches of the nave lad also been thrown down by this 
accident; and they too were restored by the liberality 
of the sub-prior. His expenditure upon the whole 
work was 2406/. 4s. lld. ‘The part of the cathedral 


immediately to the east of the central tower, which. 


was originally called the Presbytery, is now fitted 
up as the choir; but this is an alteration which was 
only made about the middle of the last century. The 
choir was formerly immediately under the tower. 

_ The interior of Ely Cathedral is very magnificent. 
The vaulted roof of the nave is sixty feet from the floor, 
and now that the Presbytery, or east end of the church, 
by being converted into the choir, has been added to the 
vista from the west end, an extent of prospect is pro- 
duced corresponding to this altitude. Much of the 
tracery and other sculpture on the windows and pillars 
is also exceedingly rich and beautiful. In the great 
window of the east end of the church there is a painting 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. [June 28, 


of St. Peter ; and the delivery of the same apostle from 
prison by the angel is the subject of an old Italian 
painting, which has been considered to have much 


59 
merit, over the altar. Various tombs and monumertal 


chapels adorn different parts of the church; amony the 
rest the chapel of Bishop Alcock, who died in 1500, at 
the east end of the north transept, and that of Bishop 
West, who died in 1530, in the south transept. Both 
these structures, the latter especially, are in the most 
rich and fanciful style of Gothic ornamental work. 
But they have suffered greatly, as well as all the other 
old monuments, from neglect and ill usage. Among 
the tombs, one of the most interesting is that of John 
Tiptoft, the famous Earl of Worcester, who was 
executed on Tower Hill, on the 18th of October, 1470, 
and of whom it has been said that “ the axe then did 
at one blow cut off more learning than was left in the 
heads of all the surviving nobility.” This light of a 
dark time was three times married, and he is here 
represented accompanied by two of his wives. 


CIGAR MANUFACTORY IN MANILLA. 


THE royal cigar manufactory is situated at Binondo 
(in the suburbs of Manilla), and near the church of 
the same name. We first entered by a stone passage, 
close to which were the storelliouses for the leaf-tobacco ; 
from this we passed into a narrow lane, walled at one 
end, and having at the other a small lodge and gate, 
through which persons employed in the manufacture took 
their departure, having previously undergone a search in 
the lodge by persons appointed for the purpose, to pre- 
vent smugeling. On entering this lane, the heavy stone 
building of the manufactory was before us, and over the 
entrance-door were the royal arms of Spain. On entering, 
and ascending a staircase, we came to the ‘ receiving-hall 
for cigars,’ where, on bamboo platforms, were seen the 
bundles of cigars ready for sale. From this hall we passed 
into a long room, in which the powerful smell of tobacco, 
and an incessant clattering of stones, informed us we were 
in the midst of the manufacturers. In this room a great 
number of women were employed, and the whole number 
of that sex, of all ages, engaged in the manufactory, was 
stated to be four thousand. The women were seated at a 
low table, and employed in rolling the leaf-tobacco into 
cigars, which is effected in the following manner :—the leaf 
is spread on the table, moistened with a little water, and 
then pasted over; after this it is beaten quite smooth with 
a small round stone, another leaf is then joined to it, and, 
after undergoing the same process, forms the wrapper of the 
cigar; the small pieces of tobacco (usually the cuttings of 
the. ends of the cigars, when cut to the requisite lengths) 
are then placed inside, and being rolled up, the cigar is so 
far completed. They are then tied into bundles, each bundle 
containing a certain number, and passed into the hands of 
other women, who cut a small piece from each end to make 
them of the requisite length, when they are ready for sale. 
The quantity of cigars manufactured must be enormous, 
the principal portion of which is consumed in Manilla and 
the neighbouring provinces. The quantity exported, a mer- 
cantile gentleman informed me, did not amount to more than 
the value of 100,000 dollars annually. The revenue de- 
rived by the government from this monopoly is stated to 
amount to 500,000 dollars per annum... Underneath the 
rooms in which the women are employed, one thousand male 
natives are engaged in the manufacture of small paper cigars, 
named cigarillos. They sit at tables, having elclosed before 

them a quantity of chopped tobacco, the paper (ready cut in 

the requisite sizes) is at hand for the envelopes: the ne- 

cessary quantity of tobacco is then taken in one of the pieces 

of paper and rolled up, in which action the two thumbs are 

principally employed, and they are made with great rapidity. 

The cigarillos are tied up in bundles of thirty each, which 

are placed in an envelope on which the royal arms are 

stamped. The consumption of this kind is local: when this 

is considered, and that each bundle contains thirty, and that 

one thousand men are constantly employed in making them, 

and four thousand women engaged in the manufacture of 

the cigars, some idea may be formed of the prodigious con- 

sumption of tobacco in the Philippine Islands alone.— 

Astatic Journal. 


1934.] 


Personal Character of Books.—Some books have a sort 
of personal character. We are attached to the work for the 
sake of the author. Thus we read Walton's ‘ Angler’ as 
we would converse with an agreeable old man, not so much 
for what he says, as for his manner of saying it, and the 
pleasure he takes in the subject.—Characteristics, 1823. 


—_ 





The Vineyards of Savoy.—In most other countries where 
the vine is cultivated, the plant is not allowed to exceed four 
or five feet in height. In Savoy, however, they have quite 
a different method. They fell large trees, and leaving them 
orn the ground until the verdure is entirely departed, strip 
them of the bark and smaller branches. They then raise 
anc. fix them firmly in the ground, and planting the vines 
at their foot, leave them to grow to whatever elevation they 
please; so that they are often seen rising to the height of 
twenty-five or even thirty feet. In the vine season, when 
covered with clustering bunches of grapes, they make a 
beautiful appearance. 


THE ALPINE MARMOT. 


Tus interesting little animal belongs to the order 
Rodentia and the genus Arctomys, and is the species 
with which we are best acquainted. It is classed among: 
rats by Linnzus, and in its appearance is compared by 
some writers to a diminutive bear or badger; but the 
disposition of its teeth, and its internal conformation, 
evince its closer affinity to the squirrel family. 

The animal, when full ¢rown, attains the size of a rab- 
bit, measures about fifteen inches from the nose to the 
root of the tail, and two feet including the tail,—and 
generally weighs about nine pounds. ‘The characteristics 
of the genus to which it belongs are thus stated :— 
There are two incisors in each jaw, and ten grinders in 
the upper, and eight in the lower jaw; four toes, with a 
tubercle in place of a thumb on the fore-feet, and five 
toesonthe hinder. The genus possesses no cheek pouches, 
like some others belonging to the same family; and the 
individual species we are considering has a thick and 
short body, short legs, and very short round ears; the 
tail differs materially from that of the squirrel, being 
much shorter in proportion, and straight. The head is 
large and thick—flattened at the top ; the nose blunt and 
thick, and is often carried erect when the animal sits. 
The muzzle is furnished with whiskers, and there are long 
hairs also above and below each eye. ‘Uhe upper part 
of the body may be generally described as of a rather 
light grey colour, and the lower part of a ight fawn 
colour. ‘The grey darkens towards the head and tail, 
and the latter becomes nearly black towards the ex- 
tremity. The ears are of a lighter grey than the sur- 
rounding parts. The toes of the hind feet are whitish, 
and those of the fore feet black. The circuit of the 
muzzle is white. ‘The fur of the animal is generally 
long and soft. The hairs of the tail are thicker and 
coarser than those of other parts, while below the tail, 
and inside the limbs, the hair is very short, leaving 
those parts almost naked. | 

These marmots inhabit the higher parts of the 
Alps and Pyrenees, just below the regions of perpetual 
snow, and are also found in some parts of Asia. They 
avoid moist places, and prefer small and narrow valleys, 
exposed to the south, south-east, or south-west. In 
such places they construct their domiciles under the 
earth, each family living in its distinct habitation. 
The entrance is usually placed under some stony 
mass. In forming their dwellings they scoop out 
the earth with great dexterity and expedition. By 
throwing away a small part and beating the re- 
mainder close, they form a very compact and solid 
passage. ‘Their excavations may be compared to the 
letter Y, the proper dwelling-place, or room, being at 
the point where the limbs branch off. The extreme 
iencth of the entire excavation is about twenty feet 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


247 


when the branches are formed, and seldom less than 
elght feet when they are not. The first passage, 
which is barely wide enough to admit the animal, is 
about six feet in length; and the cell in which it termi- 
nates 1s round or oval, arched at top, and in its form 
may be compared to an oven. It is from three to seven 
feet in diameter, being larger or smaller according to the 
number of the family, and very comfortably lined with 
hay and moss, of which a good stock is laid in during 
the summer. The use of the passages which branch 
off from this chamber is rather a matter of conjecture. 
It is commonly supposed that one of these passages is 
used for the expulsion of their excrements, that the 
chamber may not be defiled; and as the marmot is a 
very cleanly animal, this is not unlikely. In the other 
passage there is always found a peculiar cavity, from 
which it is supposed they take the earth with which, to- 
gether with stones and hay, they build up the entrance 
to their burrow on the approach of winter. The pre- 
cise position in the burrow which the cell occupies is 
variously stated by different naturalists. Some place it 
at the extremity of one of the branches, while others, 
among whom are MM. Geoffroy St. Hilaire and F. 
Cuvier, in their ‘ Histoire Naturelle des Mammiftres,’ 
give it the situation which we have assigned to it; but 
these gentlemen also assert that the branches are only 
occasionally met with. ‘The passages are always con- 
ducted in a straight line, unless the intervention of a 
rock or some other obstacle obliges the industrious 
animal to take another direction. 

in these burrows the marmot spends one-half of the 
year in sleep. It retreats to them at a period which 
varies from the middle of September to the middle of 
October, according to the early or late approach of 
the winter. [It remains shut up until March or April, 
and then removes the cement with which it had blocked 
up the entrance, by pulling it inward, and comes forth. 
At first they go down to the lower part of the mountains, 
where the season is more advanced, and on the approach 
of summer return to the neighbourhood of their proper 
homes. 

Lhe marimot,—organized for digging, destined for 
an obscure underground life, requiring for its nourish- 
ment only the herbs and roots which grow in the 
neighbourhood of its habitation, and finding in its sub- 
terranean retreat the means of escape from most of its 
enemies,—does not possess the powers of many other 
animals of the order to which it belongs. It cannot 
leap like the rat, or. climb like the squirrel. It walks 
but slowly, and raises itself to a short distance with 
effort; though it mounts with more facility than it 
descends. It rarely climbs, however, unless in the 
clefts of rocks, which it then does by the alternate use . 
of its back and legs, in the same manner that chimneys 
are ascended by climbing-boys. Notwithstanding this 
want of agility, it does not appear that the marmots are 
often taken above ground, though they are usually out 
in sunshiny weather, in which they seem to have great 
enjoyment. Early in the morning the ola marmots 
come out of their holes, and, when the sun is higher, 
bring out their young ones. ‘he latter scamper about 
on all sides, chase one another, and, when disposed for 
more quiet enjoyment, seat themselves on their hind- 
feet, and remain in that posture facing the sun, with an 
air expressive of great satisfaction. While these parties 
are thus amusing themselves, or busied in collecting 
food or materials with which to line their winter habi- 
tations, they are not unmindful of their personal safety. 
One of their number is posted as a sentinel upon a rock, 
or some other commanding spot, and if be perceives an 
enemy, or any unusual object that disquiets him, he 
sends forth a piercing cry, upon which the others retreat 
in all haste to their burrows, or, if these are too distant, 
ensconce themselves under the rocks. As thev have 


248 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [June 28, 1834, 


great quickness of sight, and can discern an enemy at | to sixteen are usually found together, and sometimes, 
a great distance, they are rarely surprised. but not often, two families are found in the same bur- 

The marmots never assume an offensive attitude | row; and still more rarely is one marmot found alone. 
towards other animals; and when apprehensive for | During their winter sleep they are taken in great num- 
their safety, their first consideration is retreat. When | bers, partly for the sake of their skins, which are used 
afraid of any serious invasion, they forsake their habita- | as furs, and partly for their flesh, which is then considered 
tions in entire families, and wander from mountain to | by the mountaineers as an agreeable article of food, but 
mountain until they find a spot where they deem it | which is not relished by persons of more delicate appetite. 
eligible to construct new retreats. When, however, | The fat of the marmot, which tastes like hog’s-lard, 1s 
they are driven to the last extremity, and retreat is | considered by the inhabitants of the Alps to possess 
impracticable, they defend themselves with great spirit | medicinal virtues. By the Savoyards they are chiefly 
even against men and dogs; and with their teeth, with | taken for the purpose of exhibiting them through vari- 
which they can inflict very terrible bites, and with their | ous parts of Europe, after they have been tamed. A 
claws, they assail all who approach them. ~ young one is easily domesticated; and may with little 

The Alpine-marmots breed in the summer, and the | difficulty be taught to sit upright, or to walk on its 
litter usually consists of three or four young ones, and | hind feet. It is sometimes even taught to dance with a 
soinetimes as many as six. It has not yet been ascer- | stick between its paws, and to perform a great variety 
tained whether the young, which with the parents | of feats. "In its tame state the marmot will eat almost 
coinpose a family, are the produce of two years or of | everything except flesh. When drinking, it raises its 
one year only. If the latter, the number of the young | head at almost every sip, like a fowl, looking around 
indicates that there must be several broods in one year. | with watchfulness and apprehension. It, however, 

When the marmots retreat to their cells for their | drinks very little. Its most marked partiality is for 
winter sleep they are generally very fat, and continue | milk and butter; and its strongest aversion is to- 
so for nearly three months; but after that, they gra- | wards dogs. Unless .carefully watched, it is very de- 
dually decline, and are very thin by the time they | structive to all kinds of provisions, clothes, linen, and 
awake. In their torpid state they he in the hay close | fumiture;- and the power of its teeth is such, that no 
to one another, and rolled up like .hedg¢e-hogs, without | cage that is not well wuarded with iron can retain it in 
exhibiting any visible appearances of life; but. they may ; bondage. . Tame .marmots, if kept sufficiently warm, 
be revived by a gradual and gentle heat. From fifteen | are able to dispense with their winter's sleep. 


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°,° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 





Printed by Wiuutam Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 





PAonthip Supplenrvent of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE “i 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 
144,] 








May 31 to June 30, 1834. 





HOGARTH AND HIS WORKS.—No.II. 


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« A foolish son 1s the heaviness of his mother.”—Proverbs x. i. 


‘(Tur Ipiz Apprenricy sunr To Sza.] 


Tue Germans, who are not deterred by the apprehen- 
sion of becoming tedious from exhausting every subject 
which they undertake to write upon, have a ‘Com- 
mentary on Hogarth,’ in five volumes, in small 8vo. 
This work, which was’ first published at Gdéttingen, 
1794—1799, is the production of G.C. Lichtenberg, a 
man of great talents, who was Professor of Natural -Phi- 
losophy or Physics in the University of Géttingen, and 
had a very high reputation as a teacher and lecturer. 
One of the volumes of this Commentary is devoted to 
the series of * Industry and Idleness.’ .'The views of the 
author are very peculiar, and expressed in language 
which would sound quaint and mystical to an English 
ear. We may nevertheless give one or two specimens. 

Our readers wiil have already seen that it was the 
intention of Hogarth to exhibit a succession of extreme 
contrasts in the pursuits and the fortunes of the two 
apprentices,. In the first plate, which Lichtenberg 
describes as the stem of the whole, the two heroes are 
presented together,—the one usefully employed, the 
other in the stupor of sottishness.. The second and 
third plates are part and counterpart,—the one re- 
presenting the industrious youth engaged in the duties 


of public worship, the other showing the. unhappy | 


Vou. Kil. 


idler violating the Sabbath with the lowest of com- 
panions. - The fourth and -fifth plates are. also ‘pairs: 
the fourth, which we gave in No: II., exhibits the one 
apprentice in the confidence: of his. master; the fifth, 
which we present above, represents the other apprentice 
discharged and: sent.to sea. The German critic, re- 
ferring to this succession of contrasts, says, “* Hogarth 
has associated the histories of his two heroes’in so 
masterly a manner, that not only each picture seems 
rightly paired with its .counterpart (which,’ indeed, 
would be required), but he has contrived also to connect 
the several pairs so cleverly with one another that each 
seems engrafted on-the other.” For. instance, the 
actual consequence of the increasing confidence of. the 
benevolent master in the industrious apprentice was, 
that he should become.a partner in his business and 
marry his daughter: this is the subject of the sixth 
plate. The contrast to this, exhibited in the seventh 
plate, is the idle vagabond returned froin sea,—fallen 
still lower than before,—incapable of steady labour,— 
unfitted for domestic peace,—consorting with an aban- 
doned woman in a den of filth and wretchedness. The 
eighth and ninth plates are again pairs. In the sixth 
and seventh, the one had reached the 7 of hap- 


250 


piness,—the other of misery. In the eighth and ninth, 
the one reaches the eminence of an honourable ambi- 
tion,—the other is precipitated into an abyss of ‘ruilt 
and misery: the one becomes Sheriff of London,—the 
other is engaged in robbery and murder in a night- 
cellar. The catastrophe of this drama is now evident. 
In the tenth plate, as in the first, the industrious and 
the idle apprentice are brought together again: the 
murderer is charged with his crimes before the magis- 
trate. Their chances of happiness and prosperity were 
once the same ;—there is a fearful distance now between 
them. The curtain might have dropped here, but 
Hogarth has chosen to make his design palpable to all. 
The last pair of the series, the eleventh and twelfth 
plates, represent the murderer dragged to execution,— 
the industrious and virtuous citizen Lord Mayor of 
London. wen Oe 

It must be manifest that Hogarth has taken extreme 
cases in the conduct of this story. It is not always 
that industry ends in wealth and civic honours ;—it 1s 
not always that idleness conducts to ignominy and 
death by the executioner. Upon this point Lichten- 
berg speaks with somewhat of a caustic humour :— 

‘“In order to display the consequences of industry 
and idleness, our artist has chosen the lives of two 
weavers. To be sure, with German journeymen 
weavers, he could not have carried his design into 
effect,—at least not with so much force of contrast. 
Whoever in Germany has learnt a trade, may easily, 
if he commences properly, make an end at the gallows 
with éclat. But, in opposition to the gallows, there is 
with us no proportional reward for industry : virtue and 
rectitude of conduct have happily no need of such a 
stimulus. Indeed, the representation of noiseless 
domestic happiness (although certainly the greatest, 
perhaps even the only true happiness of the world) 
cannot be well chosen by an artist who adopts the 
geraver as the instrument of teaching moral truths to 
the class of mankind who are called ‘ the lower. <A 
coach with six horses before and two footmen behind, 
is more easily depicted, at least it is more easily under- 
stood, than the nursery with its six: children about the 
table, or even, if it so happens, with one half around it 
and the other half under it, and the two happy parents 
at either end. * * * Hogarth thus wisely chose, 
for more than one reason, to contrast the gallows with 
Outward magnificence, which happily, however, may 
very well exist together with internal peace. In Ho- 
garth’s country it is not unfrequent that the son of a 
weaver or a brewer may distinguish himself in the 
House of Commons, and his grandson or great-grand- 
son in the House of Lords. O what. a land! in which 
no cobbler is certain that the favours of his great- 
grandson may not one day be solicited by kings and 
emperors. And yet they grumble! *” 

Hogarth was unquestionably right in selecting con- 
trasts that addressed themselves at once to the senses. 
It was his business to arrest the thoughtless in their 
hasty steps to evil,—to confirm the prudent in their 
steady march towards good. Jn the conduct of his 
Story there is not the slightest violation of probability. 
He chose instances that have occurred, and that are 
still occurring ;—and he clothed them with the most 
striking accessories of reward and punishment. Our 
artist, however, did not neglect the intermediate con- 
trasts between the final contrast of the Lord Mayor's 
carriage and the murderer’s cart. In the several stages 
of Industry there are shown,—the satisfaction of being 
usefully employed,—the calm content of a humble and 
pious spirit,—the honest pride of receiving the con- 
fidence of a discriminating’ employer,—the happiness 
of a well-assorted marriage. In the several stages of 


_* Vol, Vey Pe 15¢ 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[June 30, 


Idleness there are shown,—the misery of sottish indiffe- 
rence,—the feverish anxiety of low and profane excite- 
ments,—the reckless daring-of the callous ruffian who 
despises even the tears of a mother,—the coward ter- 
rors and loathsome degradation of illicit intercourse. 
Without reaching the extreme honour or the extreme 
punishment which Hogarth has delineated, there is 
quite enough to show in these several contrasts what 
are the natural rewards of Industry and the natural 
punishments of Idleness. | 

The terms ‘‘ Industry ” and “ Idleness ” may perhaps 
require some explanation, Gambling in the church- 
yard, on ship-board, or engaged in robbery, the Idle 
Apprentice seems to have as much to do as the Indus- 
trious Apprentice attending the service of the church, 
in his master’s counting-house, or sitting as magistrate. 
Barrow, one of the most eloquent and ‘logical of our 
great divines, has put the distinctions between laborious 
idleness and profitable industry very admirably :—‘ In- 
dustry doth not consist merely in action; for that is 
incessant in all persons, our mind being a restless 
thing, never abiding in a total cessation from thought 
or from design; being like a ship in the sea, if not 
steered to some good purpose by reason, yet tossed by 
the waves of fancy, or driven by the winds of temp- 
tation, somewhither. But the direction of, our mind 
to some good end, without roving or flinching, in a 
straight and steady course,:drawing after it our active 
powers in execution thereof, doth constitute Industry.” 
Again :—‘“ Sloth, indeed, doth affect ease and quiet, 
but by affecting them doth lose them; it hateth labour 
and trouble, but by hating them doth incur them. It 
is a self-destroying vice, not suffering those who cherish 
it to be idle, but creating much work and- multiplying 
pains unto them ; engaging them into divers necessities 
and straits, which they cannot support with ease, and 
out of which, without extreme trouble, they cannot 
extricate themselves.’ We may do well to illustrate 
this position by an example or two. We will first take 
the real history of a man (and we prefer the instance 
of a poor and humble man) who directed his mind 
to some good end, without roving or flinching, in a 
straight and steady course, drawing after it his active 
powers in execution. 

In Arthur Young's ‘ Six Months’ Tour through the 
North of England,’ published in 1770, an account is 
given of the efforts made by Mr.. Danby, of Swinton, 
to improve the condition of the colliers by whom he 
was surrounded. He was the owner of a great deal of 
barren moor land; and he determined to allow those 
of his miners who chose’ to labour i their-over-hours: 
small patches of this land for their own cultivation. 
‘* By this plan,” says the writer, ‘* the whole colliery, 
from being a scene of idleness, insolence, and riot, is 
converted into a well-ordered and decently-cultivated 
colony :—it is become a seminary for industry.” The 
most remarkable of these miners was James Croft, 
We shall tell his story, as much as possible, in Arthur 
Youne’s words, 

‘Thirteen years ago he began his husbandry by 
taking an acre of moor, which he pared and burnt, 
His next effort was upon an addition of eight acres, 
which, however, was too much for him to improve at 
once, but he effected it all by degrees. These acres were 
exceedingly stony; so that, after a division by walls 
built out of the stones, many remained. One acre 
cost him two months to clear and fill up the holes; 
some single stones required near a week. lLaborious 
as the work was, he completed it by degrees, and pared 
and burnt the soil. 

**'T'wo years ago he took in eight acres more, on which 
he is-uow hard at work. It is astonishing with what 
perseverance he attacks the most enormous stones, cut- 


| ting them in pieces, carrying them away, and then 


bringing’ mould to fill the holes up; and he has such 
an idea of neatness, that he will not pass one. 

** He has five acres of grass; his management of which 
is very good: he lays all the dung he can raise upon 
it, mixed well with lime, and sometimes with good 
earth; and this dressing he repeats every third year, 
without ever failing. His stock of cattle is three milch 
cows, a heifer, and his galloway; their winter food 
hay, turnips, and straw. 

‘“‘ Besides the mere husbandry of his fields, he has 
done something in the ornamental way, having almost 
surrounded two of his closes with a young plantation 
of firs and other trees, which thrive extremely well. 
Attentive to every object that can render his little farm 
either profitable, convenient, or agreeable, he has, witli 
no slight trouble, directed a little rill of water from the 
moors through his fields ; by which means he not only 
has water in every field for his cattle, but can also 
water some of his grass, and thereby fertilize it much. 

‘“* He has thus managed, for several years, above nine 
acres of land, much of it always in tillage, and some 
constantly fresh breaking up and improving. We have 
fouud him cropping his land several years successively 
(a practice, though bad, yet of increasing labour), never 
sowing any without a previous ample liming and three 
or four ploughings ; adding to his cultivated land by 
perfectly clearing the fresh soil from all stones, some 
of them of an enormous size, many tons in weight, and 
by paring and burning in the most spirited and labo- 
rious manner. 

‘When you consider these circumstances, and that at 
the same time he has had the courage to attack eight 
acres more, will you not conclude he has received much 
assistance, either of money or labour; or that many 
favourable circumstances, hitherto unrelated, have 
enabled him to make such advances in so spirited a 
conduct? But the very contrary of all this is the case. 
His work in the colliery has been regular, equal in 
every respect to the other men, and in some superior. 
His hour of going to the mine is twelve o'clock at 
night; the work is over at noon the next day. The 
remainder is all the time he has had to perform what I 
can scarcely call less than wonders. Nor has he ever 
received the least assistance of any kind, or ever ex- 
pended one shilling in hiring the labour of another 
man.. The quantity of lime he has laid on his land is 
very great, and much more than what is commonly 
used by the neighbouring farmers; the number of 
ploughings he has given his fields is equally superior ; 
and yet all this labour has been performed with a 
singie galloway: the lime brought six miles. It is 
astonishing what a spirit of perseverance must have 
actuated’ this extraordinary man, to execute, with such 
slight engines, works that will put many farmers, with 
teams, to the blush. 

*“¢ Some assistance in weeding potatoes, in harvest, &c., 
and such slieht work, he has received from his family ; 
but you may suppose it not considerable, when I tell 
you, that of four or five children he has only one son, 
about fourteen years of age, who works with him con- 
stantly in the colliery. 

«The time of leaving off work in the.mine till that 
of sleeping, he regularly spent in unremitting la- 
bour in his farm. Since his beginning, he has never 
had more than four hours’ sleep; and on moonlight 
or bright starlight nights, seldom so much. The re- 
cular severe fatigue of twelve hours’ labour in the col- 
hery has not been sufficient to bow down the spirit of 
this poor fellow; he applies the remainder of the day, 
and even steals from the night, to prosecute his fa- 
vourite works of husbandry—that is, to make up his 
hours of work twenty out ofthe twenty-four. 

‘* Such a conduct requires a genius of a peculiar cast. 
Daring in his courage, and spirited in his ideas, the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


251 


most extensive plans are neither too vast nor too com- 
plicated to be embraced with facility by his bold: and 
comprehensive imagination. With a penetration that 
sees the remotest difficulty, a prudence and firmness of 
mind that removes every one the moment it is fore- 
seen, we attribute the wonders he has performed to 
the powers of his mind, and forget almost that the 
whole which is executed of his ideas has been the work 
of his own hands. The severest fatigue, the most 
assiduous labour, have been unable to quench the fire 
of the one, or repress the vigour of the other. The 
greatest, and indeed the only object of his thoughts, is 
the improvement of the wilds that surround him; over 
which he casts an anxious but magnanimous eye, wish- 
ing for the freedom to attack, with his own hands, an 
enemy, tlie conquest of whom would yield Jaurels to a 
man of ample fortune.” 

Few, perhaps, are capable of emulating industry 
such as this. The task which this poor man performed 
required great strength of body as well as great vigour 
of mind. But even a considerably less capacity for 
labour, systematically exerted, must have produced.real 
comfort and happiness to the miners who took James 
Croft as their model. The struggle with natural diffi- 
culties, followed by the eventual conquest of them, was 
in itself happiness. The moors were stony and barren ; 
but labour and art were triumphant. The industry 
which subdued the barren moors made the cottages 
smile with their produce. ‘There was increased pro- 
duction and diminished waste. The excitement of in- 
dustry took the place of the excitement of drunkenness ; 
order succeeded to irregularity; cleanliness to filth; 
comfort to squalid poverty; content and peace to 
brawling and riot. 

Let us take another example of mis-directed labour 
and ingenuity :—that of a skilful and active thief. This 
unhappy man has written his own history. 

James Hardy Vaux was transported in 1800, having 
been found guilty of picking a gentleman’s pocket. 
He returned from transportation in 1808. Wanting 
at first the means of subsistence, he stole a coach parcel, 
containing a considerable sum of money. Being a 
person of some education, he at-length obtained employ- 
ment as a copying clerk, in an attorney’s office, at a 
guinea a week; and afterwards was employed as a 
reader, or corrector of the press, in a printing-office, at 
two guineas a week, Here, then, was an opportunity 
for this man to redeem his past crimes—to maintain 
himself in comfort by the honest exereise of his talents, 
without any severe tasking of his bodily or mental 
powers. For three weeks only could he persist in 
this course. He met with companions in his former 
iniquity, who persuaded him once more to incur 
misery and disgrace in the attempt to get “an 
easy guinea.” ‘These are the wretched man’s words. 
How truly did Barrow say—‘‘ Sloth indeed doth affect 
ease and quiet, but by affecting them doth lose 
them; it hateth labour and trouble, but by hating 
them doth incur them!” Hardy Vaux met an old 
associate who had been seven years in the hulks, but 
whose father had received him with great kindness, and 
was inclined, if he continued honest, to take care of his 
future fortune. This other spurner of industry said, 
““ he could never reconcile himself to confinement on @ 
shop-bourd.” Other companions joined these two.the 
same day at the dinner-hour, “ ridiculing,” says Hardy 
Vaux, ‘‘ with too much effect, the idea of a man like 
myself being confined to certain hours like a school-boy.” 
The printer’s reader never returned to his office. He 
says, “I was effectually laughed out of my late good 
intentions; and before we parted had joined with the 
Joudest of them in decrying and contemning every 
species of servitude and confinement; and cordially 
agreed in a resolution to live independent + ars I could.” 


252 


And what was the sort of independence which this 
man obtained, when he exchanged the: life of a cor- 
recior of the press‘for that ‘of a swindler? He spent 
his whole time‘in prowling from shop to shop, pur- 
loininge watches and rings ‘from jewellers and pawn- 
brokers. -Was ‘this a pleasing task, more agreeable 
than his former ‘‘ servitude and confinement?” Was 
this the way to obtain the ‘‘ easy guinea?” “‘ I deter- 
mined,” he says, ‘‘ to make a circuit of the town, and 
not ‘to omit a single shop in either of those branches ; 
and this scheme I actually executed so fully, that I 
believe I did not leave ten untried in all London, for I 
made‘a point of commencing in a certain street, and 
went regularly through it on both sides of the way.’ 
Here was labour that, under profitable direction, might 
have. brought the labourer wealth and honour. It is 
true that the swindler dressed well, and put on the out- 
ward character of a gentleman: © but he was walking 
on quicksands, and he knew his danger. ‘The sense of 
insecurity is of itself enough to destroy every advantage 
of worldly. gain. ‘‘ On two or three occasions,” he 
Says, ** so much suspicion arose, that I was obliged to 
exert all my effrontery, and to use very high language, 
in order, as the cant phrase is, to bounce the tradesman 
out of it.” - At last the successful thief and swindler 
was apprehended and tried for stealing a snuff-box ; 
the evidence was insufficient, and he was acquitted. 
Was this'a warning to him? He robbed the same 
jeweller’s shop a second time, was convicted, sentenced 
to death, .and finally ‘transported for life.. Who can 
doubt which was the happier and wiser man, or which 
followed> the least: troublesome occupation, —James 
Croft, with:health and contentment digging and paring 
his stony neath, or James Hardy Vaux, slinking from 
door to door, with a lie ever upon his lips, to plunder 
the °° easy puinea?” 

This, many persons may say, is an extreme case. They 
can understand the force of an example of industry 
like that of James Croft; but it-is not so clear that 
idleness leads to robbing jewellers’ shops, as Hardy 
Vaux did, or murdering.in a night-cellar, as Hogarth’s 
apprentice is represented to have done. Idleness, we 
answer, is a state of temptation. There is an old saying 
—* a working .monk is assaulted by one devil, but an 
idle one is spoiled -by numerous bad’ spirits.” ©The 
degree of the temptation is only-a question, perhaps 
of time, perhaps of opportunity. But that ‘the path of 
sloth is full of pit-falls no-one can doubt. ‘Take’ the 
commonest case of a slothful labourer—made . sloth- 
ful, probably, against his ‘original ‘desire, by a weak 
and corrupt administration of the laws for the relief of 
sickness:and impotency. He begius.by being a pauper 
—he-goes on to:practise the arts of a poacher—he ends 
withthe despérate courses of a‘thief. ‘ake the equally 
common example of a ‘‘ man on the town’’—a fine 
gentleman’ with a large’ appetite for pleasure. and a 
small income ‘for its gratification. “He commences by 
incurring debts which he has no prospect of discharging. 
—he. goes on: by trusting to the gaming-table for the 
supply of Ins. wants—the~gaming-table is a very un- 
certain bank, and he looks at last to operations more 
within ‘the control .of his own will—he finishes as a 
swindler. - ‘Lake, lastly, the not unfrequent example of 
a tradesman who neglects -his-business.. His charges 
of rent and servants begin to press-heavily upon him; 
—~the.ordinary receipts of, his trade wili not meet his 
engagements ;—he begins to abuse one of the greatest 
instruments of commerce, the power of obtaining credit ; 
—he buys ‘goods; and sells them at a loss, to patch up 
the demands upon him, or he enters upon the desperate 
career of .** accommodation bills ’—that is, of ex- 
changing promises to pay for other promises to pay, 
each equally worthless, raising money upon them ata 


high rate of interest ;—lastly, he absconds, and finishes | 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Junz 30, 


as an outlawed bankrupt. These are a few of the many 
intermediate steps between the first abandonment to 
sloth, associated with the first departure from integrity, 
and the ultimate vengeance of the offended laws. 

But to return to our great moral painter. When 
Hogarth made it a part‘of the fate of his Idle Ap- 
prentice that he should be turned away and sent to 
sea, the painter showed that one of the means of re- 
formation which society provides for sloth and im- 
prudence was bestowed upon his depraved hero.” A 
restless will, impatient of the restraints of unvarying 
labour, rn finds a field for honest and useful 
exercise in the adventurous variety of a sailor’s life. The 
’ | discipline, too, of aship is so strict, that idleness is there 
driven out of its ordinary course of shifts‘and expedients. 
Hence a sea life often produces a salutary change in 
the character of an imprudent but not thoroughly 
corrupted youth. <A sailor’s duties may absorb those 
energies that, in other situations, might crave ‘for 
the excitements of dissipation; but it is a mistake ‘to 
imagine that a hfe on ship-board can produce any 
salutary effects upon a wicked and obdurate disposition ; 
or that a young man can discharge his -duties-as a 
seaman, and still preserve his hatred of steady labour 
and his love of base eratifications. It requires the 
same qualities to make a good sailor as a good 
citizen—industry, perseverance, obedience, integrity. 
The Idle Apprentice is not likely to display these quali- 
ties. His fate may be read in Hogarth’s wonderful 
plate at the commencement of this Number. The 
firures are few ;—but they all tell the story. Look’at 
the sroup around “ Tom Idle’s” sea-chest. The un- 
happy boy has thrown his indentures pyerbyaed ;—his 
mind is intent’upon a vulgar joke sugeested by the 
place in the river where the boat is passing ; ;—his 
demeanour is so reckless that one of the sailors, with a 
coarse warning, is exhibiting to him a cat-o’-nine tails— 
the other, with his hard features of admonition, is point- 
ing to the gibbet on the flat shore. + But there is one 
of that group who. would touch his heart ‘by other 
associations—it is his weeping mother. “ Without:being 
plunged into the.lowest depth of. olnkinnagas he might 
affect to despise the terrors ‘with which those rough. 
monitors seek to affright him. But a mother’s tears !— 
if he resist: these tokens of all she has done and all she 
has felt for him, ofall she hopes and all she dreads in 
this parting hour,—he is lost. She “ is clinging with 
the fondness of hope not quite extinguished to her brutal, 
viceshardened child.” He meets her love with a base 
and desperate ribedeleyy .He 2s lost ! 

.The sixth print of ‘the series, which will be found in 
the opposite page, represents.the Industrious Appren- 
tice married to his former:master’s daughter. ‘They 
are now in partnership, as their joint- names on the 
sign (signs were then common in.London) indicate. 
It is the morning after the marriage. The door is 
beset by clamorous beggars, by noisy musicians, and 
by still more noisy butchers with marrow-bones and 
cleavers. On occasions like these, those who whine. fur 
alms, and those who compel a boon by making them- 
selves disagreeable, are abundantly gratified; for then 
the’ most sensible are apt to forget that what is bestowed 
upon the idle in the way of wilt is so, much taken away 
from the store which maintains the diligence of. the 
industrious... The peculiar humour of Hogarth is 
poured out in this print. ‘The beggar in ‘the tub, 
bawling out his new song to ‘ the happy pair, ——the 
stiff-lerged bow of the ae inion receiving his pay,— 
the eager gaze of the one butcher, and i bullying 
roughness of the other, who is driving back the Frerich- 
man with the 5, rt these are characteristic 
traits of the motley population of a great city. We 
Shall add a few sentences from Lichtenberg, which 
may amuse if they do not instruct, 


1834] THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 253 


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~ [Tue Joie ApPRenricn BETRAYED BY A PROPLIGATE Assograty, AnD APPREHENDED FOR :Monver. | 


254 


“Tt is the custom in England, or at least in London, 
for the butchers to make before the houses of the newly 
married on the morning after the wedding,—if they 
think it will pay them for their trouble,—a kind of wild 
Janizary music. They perform it by striking their 
cleavers with the marrow-bones of the animals they 
have slain. ‘To comprehend that this music is,— 
we shall not say supportable, for that is not here the 
question,—but that it is not entirely objectionable, we 
shall observe that the breadth of the English cleaver is 
to that of the Germans nearly in the same proportion 
as the diameter of the English ox is to that of Germany. 
When, therefore, properly struck, they produce no de- 
spicable clang; at least certainly a better one than 
logs of wood emit when thrown to the ground; and yet 
the latter are said to have occasioned the invention of 
the rebeck. We are even of opinion that if the cleavers 
were duly tuned and proportioned, as perhaps was the 
case with the hammers of Pythagoras, they would pro- 
bably produce a music far superior to that of some 
newly-invented harmonicons, constructed of nails, cucum- 
bers, and bricks *. We shall not urge that this music 
must be rendered more agreeable by the concatenation 
of ideas it excites, and which refer to roast-beef, though 
it is evident that in this case the notion must mingle 
with the finer feelings produced by the music. It is 
incredible of what subtle but intelligible signs the 
stomach may make use to indicate to the heart that 
it is united very closely to it in their common citadel.” 

The contrast exhibited in the seventh plate has been 
already noticed. 
from sea—unchanged, unrepenting. 
once into more fatal and desperate courses. 
entered upon a career of robbery. In a wretched 
oarret, in companionship with a depraved woman, he 
wakes in the night in a condition of extreme terror. 
A cat has come down the chimney, and he fancies he 
hears the officers of justice. ‘* The sound of a shaken 
leaf shall chase him.” 

The eighth plate represents the City Feast of Good- 
child, who has become Sheriff of London. This 
was a natural course of advancement for industry and 
integrity accumulating wealth. The course which the 
JIndustrious Apprentice has pursued, properly fits him 
for public trusts and public duties. Hogarth, in the 
print before us, has, with his usual felicity, represented 
the coarse enjoyments of a city feast. The eager 
clamour for fresh supphes—the gloating satisfaction of 
the healthful feeder, and the exhausted appetite of the 
apoplectic one,—these are traits of every-day occur- 
rence, which Hogarth has not exaggerated. The gut- 
tling of corporations, miscalled hospitality, is the 
ereatest abuse of our municipal institutions. The 
‘“* Companies,’ who habitually feast with all the pam- 
pered luxuriousness of a Roman emperor, have enor- 
mous funds at their disposal, some of which they dole 
out m charity, and more of which they employ in their 
courses of wasteful riot; and this they call ‘ making 
good for trade.” Properly applied, these funds would 
eradicate want instead of cherishing it, and bestow 
sound and elevating instruction upon those who now 
suffer the debasement of ignorance ;—properly applied, 
these funds would empty our prisons and fill our 
schools. 

Municipal honours and municipal privileges belong 
to our constitution. They are the outward rewards to 
the middle classes for managing their own affairs: 
They are honest objects of ambition which are open to 
all men. But the ‘ board-day ” and the ‘* council ” 
dinner are what the really useful members of corpo- 
rations despise. Something of “ high festival,” to 
commemorate some public triumph—something of pro- 

* This evidently is intended to ridicule some ephemeral projects 
of the time, | 


He plunges at 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


The Idle Apprentice has returned: 
He has. 


[June 80, 


fuse hospitality to welcome a new functionary—may 
be, without impropriety, tolerated and encouraged ; 
beyond this is waste and vanity. Changes are taking 
place amongst us which may restore municipal corpo- 
rations to their real uses, and destroy their abuses ;— 
and then an upright and intelligent citizen may be 
proud of his Company and his Corporation. ‘‘ The 
Londoners,” says an eloquent writer, “ loved their city 
with that patriotic love which is found only in small 
communities, like those of ancient Greece, or like those 
that arose in Italy during the middle ages.” It will be 
so again when those institutions, ** which now seem 
only to exist for the delectation of epicures and anti- 
quaries,” become again conspicuous instruments in the 
advancement of civilization. _ 

In the third plate of the series, which represents the 
profanation of the Sabbath by the Idle Apprentice and 
his ignorant companions, the fellow with the patch 
over his eye is a prominent character. In the ninth 
plate we find him again associated in crime with the 
wretched idler. In a night-cellar they are busily en- 
gaged in dividing their booty. Their accomplices are 
thrusting their murdered victim into a_trap-door. 
Behind is a scene of brutal debauchery. But the hour 
of retribution is fast approaching. The profligate com- 
panion of the devoted apprentice is betraying him to 
the officers of justice. His career will.soon be at an 
end: the catastrophe is beginning. — 

At the time when Hogarth painted, the thieves of 
London were a most daring and almost triumphant 
body. ‘The most desperate crimes were committed with 
impunity. Not a century ago it was considered unsafe 
to go out after dark in the streets, even in a coach. 
Up to a mnch later period, no one would dare to go 
through Lincoln’s-Inn Fields at night. In 1728, 
some robbers: confederated: to rob the queen in St. 
Paul’s Churchyard, on her return from a city festival ; 
and her majesty only escaped because the thieves were 
busy plundering a member of parliament who was 
returning in his chariot from the House of Commons. 
Rescues of thieves by armed bands of other thieves 
were not at all unfrequent. Night-cellars, such as Ho- 
garth has exhibited in his print, and even day-resorts, 
were numerous in London. The most celebrated, 
according to Sir John Fielding, were, the Bull in the 
Pound, the Apollo Gardens, the Dog and Duck, and 
the Temple of ‘Flora. Apollo and Flora were not 
worse employed in their associations with the rogues 
and profligates of the ancient mythology, whose mis- 
deeds boys read of i some of our great classical 
schools with such persevering labour. Such haunts, 
and such daring depredators, have almost ceased to 
exist: they have been ‘banished by the’ improvement 
of our streets,—by lighting with gas,—by a preventive 
police. 

_ We have now traced the Industrious and the Idle 
Apprentice to that point when their future career must 
be determined. ‘The one is a magistrate of the first 
city in the world—the other is an apprehended felon. 
The course of their progress, each to such different 
results, is natural and certain, Is there anything of 
chance in these violent contrasts? Look at the history 
of all criminals—it is that of Hogarth’s apprentice. 
The stages are idleness, depraved excitements, contempt 
of the Sabbath, profligate companionship, disobedience, 
contempt of the affections which God implanted in us 
for our happiness and our instruction, obduracy of 
heart, desperation, and death by the laws. Look at 
the history of all those who have advanced themselves 
from small beginnings to wealth and honour—it is that 
of Hogarth’s apprentice. The stages are industry, calm 
enjoyments, love of social worship, few and_ tried 
friends, obedience, cherishing of the pure affections, 
perseverance in well-doing, honest ambition, public 


1834.) . 


respect. Hogarth kept strictly to the true and the pro- 
bable in both his examples. 

Tle moral lesson Hogarth intended to convey would 
have wanted much of its force had any of the usual 
experiences of life been violated to give it point. How 
faithfully the course of idleness and depravity has been 
(lepicted, we need nothing beyond the observations of 
every day to inform us. The prosperity of the indus- 
trious and well behaved is, however, so frequently attri- 
buted to “ chances” and “ lucky hits,” that the tale 
Hogarth has told of his Industrious Apprentice is by 
many felt to be less natural than the other. We think 
itis not so. The fortunate circumstances which occur 
to lift the industrious upward, are, as much as their 
other advantages, the effects of that industry and good 
conduct without which they would not have been so 
placed that ‘‘ lucky chances” could »ecur or could 
benefit them. So, in the instance before us, without a 
long previous course of industrious and trustworthy 
conduct, the Industrious Apprentice would not have 
been in a situation for the good fortune of being the 
husband of his master’s daughter and the partner in 
his firm. The biography of every nation is full of 
instances of men who, by talents and useful inventions, 
have raised themselves to a commanding position in 
society. But all men are not endowed with such talent ; 
aud it does not appear to have been the intention of 
Hogarth to represent their progress. He intended 


rather to exhibit the prosperity which might be attained | 


by the practice of virtues which no man is naturally 
incapable of exercising, and to indicate a path to con- 
sideration which no man wants more than the will to 
follow. He has represented an extreme case, certainly. 
There are many lesser elevations than that of the chief- 
magistracy of London, on which the industrious and 
wise man may rest happy and comfortable. Never- 
theless, many of our readers would be surprised to learn 
how large the proportion is of those who have attained 
that dignity from the lowest beginnings. ‘To illustrate 
this fact, let us take the list of the Corporation of about 
thirty-eight years since, consisting chiefly of persons 
who had already filled the civic chair, or had it in near 
prospect. In this limited number of names, we find 
the following of persons not otherwise remarkable than 
for this,—that their industry and good conduct laid the 
foundation of their dignities and fortunes. In record- 
ing their names, and noticing the prominent incidents 
of their lives, we cannot refrain from pleasing ourselves 
with the idea that many of them were stimulated and 
encouraged in their career by the moral paintings which 
placed the good and the evil so vividly before them. 
Sir James Sanderson was born at York, in 174], 
of worthy though humble parents. His father was a 
erocer, who, dying young, left his business to be carried 
on by his widow till the only son should arrive at a 
proper age to undertake the management of it himself. 
To fit him for business, he was sent to Mr. Golding, 
an eminent hop-merchant in London, whose regard for 
his protégé terminated only with his life. After some 
years spent with Mr. Golding he returned to York, 
with a view of carrying on the trade left him by his 
father ; but finding it contracted, and barely sufficient 
to support his mother and sisters, he left it to them, 
with an equal distribution of his little fortune (100/.). 
With his share in his trunk, he returned to his friend 
Mr. Golding, in London, who soon after settled him 
in connexion with Mr. Hunter,.a considerable hop- 
merchant, from whonr-Mr. Sanderson experienced the 
most affectionate attention and support, which he 
returned by devoting himself to the interest of his 
benefactor. He subsequently formed an advantageous 


matrimonial connexion; and by redoubled industry, | 


and rigid and unremitting attention to his business and 
other. duties, he finally attained to wealth and con- 
sideration, He became Sheriff in 1786, and Lord Mayor 


“a = 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


255 


in 1792. In the year following he was created a 
baronet, for his services during his mayoralty. 

Alderman John Boydell was born at Dorrington, in 
Shropshire; and, at the age of twenty-one, came to 
London on foot, and bound himself apprentice to an 
engraver for seven years. The early part of his career 
was full of trial and difficulty, but he gradually rose to 
the civic chair, to fortune, and to a high degree of fame 
as a patron of the fine arts in this country. The illus- 
trations of Shakspeare, painted at his cost, and en- 
graved under his direction, are well kuown, and reflect 
a permanent honour on his name. He was distin- 
guished for his muniticence to the artists and engravers 
whom he employed. 

The name of Alderman Skinner, who was Lord 
Mayor in the year 1794, deserves to be mentioned in 
this place, as showing the wealth and civic distinction 
which may be attained by industry and good conduct, 
in spite not only of obscurity of birth, but even of con- 
tracted education. Mr. Skinner’s birth was humble, 
and his education confined; he was born at Old Brent- 
ford, in 1740, and was apprenticed, by the parish of 
Isleworth, to a box-maker and undertaker, in New- 
ewate-Street. He was a sober, attentive lad; and his 
eood qualities recommended him to the notice of a 
hosier residing in the same street, who supplied him 
with a small sum of money, with which he commenced 
petty household-broker, salesman, and undertaker; and 
by persevering industry, accompanied by an acute turn 
of mind, he ultimately became the first auctioneer in 
the kingdom ; and was almost universally employed in 
the sale of estates, &c. The quantity of landed pro- 
perty, and other things of value, that passed yearly 
through his hands, is almost beyond conception; and 
his profits were in adequate proportion. His biogra- 
pher computes that one-fourth of the capital of the 
nation had passed through his hands; and, with reward 
to his profits, thinks that Peter Pindar spoke more than 
poetical truth when, speaking of this alderman, he said, 

‘ Who, with a hammer and a conscience clear, 
Gets glory and ten thousand pounds a year,” 
His conduct during his mayoralty was spoken of at the 
time as remarkable for its propriety and correctness. 

We have no room for further particular details on 
this point; but the following brief notices relating to 
names inthe same list with the above, will, with the 
statements we have already given, show still further 
that Hogarth has not departed from probabilities in 
depicting the course of his Industrious Apprentice. 
Sir William Plomer began life in a dark oil-shop in the 
neighbourhood of Aldgate; Brook Watson, Esq., 
elected member for the City in 1784, was the son of a 
journeyman-tailor, to which trade he served an ap- 
prenticeship ; Sir John W. Anderson, Lord Mayor in 
1797, and member for the City, was the son of a day- 
labourer ; Alderman Macauley was the sou of a captain 
of a coasting-vessel, who died leaving nine children 
unprovided for; Sir William Staines was a working 
pavior and stone-mason; Alderman Hamerton, also a 
pavior, from being avery poor boy, raised himself to 
affluence; Sir John Eamer originally kept a small 
grocers shop, and afterwards carried on a great 
wholesale business in the same line; Alderman Wright 
was 2 servant in the warehouse of which he afterwards 
became master,—he acquired a fortune of 400,000/. ; 
Alderman Gill was also a servant in the same house, 
and acquired an immense fortune,—he began business 
with Alderman Wright as a stationer, and married his 
sister,—they lived sixty years in partnership together 
without having ever in any shape disagreed, and both 
died in the same year—1798 ; Sir Samuel Fludyer was 
originally employed in attending on pack-horses, but 
by great industry, joined to an enterprising spirit, ac- 
quired immense ‘wealth, and attained to great im-~ 


! portance in the commercial world, . 


266 

Several other instances could be mentioned of per- 
sons, members of the Corporation at the latter end of 
the last century, who had raised themselves from an 
original equally low with those we have named; and 
this has been often the case with those who attained to 
the chief magistracy of London. ‘This is easily ac- 
counted for; for while experience shows this dignity 
tu be attainable by the lowest, this high place, like 
others, appears the most splendid to those who are at 
the greatest distance from it, and who have therefore 
a stimulus in pressing forward to it, unfelt by those 
who have always seen it as a near object. 

When it is considered how many virtues and how 
much knowledge go to make up the character of a 
good tradesman, it must be a matter of proud satisfac- 
tion that the highest municipal honours have fallen 
upon many who have risen to commercial eminence 
from small beginnings. Such men have invariably 
been benefactors of their species. ‘To industry they 
must have united great economy; and judicious eco- 
nomy is the main-sprine of all profitable industry,— 
the source from which all the great private and public 
works uf man are created and upheld. The opulence 
of individuals, founded upon their industry and fru- 
gality, has raised up some of the most valuable institu- 
tions of our own and other countries ;—the poverty of 
individuals, produced by their wasteful expenditure, 
has destroyed many of the most splendid creations of 
wealth and taste, and has involved in that destruction 
the prosperity, not only of families, but of whole dis- 
tricts. History is full of such.examples. But these 


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considerations extend beyond individual interests. Na- 
tions depend for their prosperity, and consequently 
their strength and happiness, upon the industry of pri- 
vate men. ‘Their aggregate industry makes up a 
flourishing community. ‘The eloquent divine, whom 
we have already quoted, truly says, “It is industry 
whereto the public state of the world, and of each coin- 
monweal therein, is indebted for its being, in all con- 
veniences and embellishments belonging to life, advanced 
above rude and sordid barbarism; yea, whereto man- 
kind doth owe all that wood learning,—that morality,— 
those improvements of soul, which elevate us beyond 
brutes. 

‘“‘'To industrious study is to be ascribed the invention 
and perfection of all those arts whereby human life is 
civilized, and the world cultivated with numberless 
accommodations, ornaments, and beauties. 

‘* All the comely, the stately, the pleasant, and useful 
works which we do view with delight, or enjoy with coin- 
fort, industry did contrive them, industry did frame them. 

‘* Doth any country flourish in wealth, in erandeur, 
in prosperity? It must be imputed to industry,—to 
the industry of its governors settling good order,—to 
the industry of its people following profitable occupa- 
tions :—so did Cato, in that notable oration of his in 
* Sallust,’ tell the Roman senate that it was not by the 
force of their arms, but by the industry of their an- 
cestors, that the commonwealth did arise to such a pitch 
of greatness. When sloth creepeth in, then all things 
corrnpt and decay; then the public state doth sink into 
disorder, penury, and a diseraceful condition.” 





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‘Thou shalt do no umrighteeusness in judgment.”"—Levtticus, xiv. 15. 
‘ “The wicked is snared in the work of his ewn hands.’"—Psalm xix. 16. 


{Tau Ipnu APPRENTICE COMMITTED vor TRIAL BY THE INDUSTRIOUS APPRENTICE, WHO HAS BECOME A MaaisrraTer or Lonpon. ] 


We have little to say in explanation of the above 
noble picture. The murderer is at the bar of justice— 
his accomplice is giving evidence against him—his 
weeping mother is pressing forward in her agony to 
implore mercy. The magistrate is the former fellow- 
apprentice of the criminal. The curtain may fall. ‘The 
izayedy isripe. The execution and the Lord Mayor's 


Show are the accessories which can add nothing to its 
lessons. 





*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 





Printed by WiLJam Crowgs, Duke Street, Lambeth, a 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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258 


Tie name of David Teniers is common to two painters, 
father and son, the subjects and styles of whose pic- 
tures are very similar. ‘The younger Teniers, however, 
is much more distinguished than the elder. 

David 'Teniers the younger was born at Anvers in 
the year 1610, and was brought up under the profes- 
sional instructions of his father. Some biographers 
state that he left the study of his father for that of 
Adrian Brauwer, and that he even received lessons 
from Rubens. ‘The elder Tenters was certainly a pupil 
of Rubens, and there is no improbability that the 
younger may have received instructions from him; but 
there is no proof that he did: the belief that he receiy ed 
instruction, not only from Rubens, but Elsheimer and 
other masters, is reasonably conjectured to have arisen 
from the wonderful fidelity aud success with which, 
during the earlier portion of his prokeeny lite, Mie 
employed himself in imitating the works of most of 
the painters of his time. He also amused himself by 
making compositions in the styles of different celebrated 
painters, as Titian, Tintoretto, the Bassans, Rubens, 
&c., in which he imitated the touch of these great men 
with such ability, that the imitations, which are known 
by the name of pasticcios, deceived the best judges of 
his own time, and since have frequently been mistaken 
for originals, and sold as such. ‘hey must, therefore, 
have had great merit. However, all the skill which 
Teniers exhibited in this line procured him no better 
name than the Proteus, or else the Ape, of Painting 
although he had certainly acquired considerable repu- 
tation in his native town before the period commenced 
in which his original powers were manifested. 

This latter period is said to have been determined in 
the following remarkable incident, which we find related 
in the ‘ Biographie Universelle.’ ‘Teniers was one day 
in an alehouse of the village of Oyssel, and when he 
was preparing to depart found he had no money to pay 
the reckoning. He then, like George Morland in 
similar circumstances, bethought himself of painting 
some little piece and selling ‘it to raise the necessary 
funds. In ordinary circumstances, he would probably 
have thought of copying a picture; but, as there was 
none to copy, he called to him a blind man who was 
playing on a flute, and made him the subject of a pic- 
ture, which he sola for three ducats to an English 
traveller, who was stopping at the cabaret to change 
horses. A note appended, in the work we have men- 
tioned, to this statement, informs us, that the pur- 
chaser was a nobleman, who a lone time preserved the 
picture, which the coanoisseurs regarded as a master- 
piece of ‘Teneirs ; but it was at last stolen, and never 
avain heard of until 1804, when it was discovered, with 
several other compositions of the same artist, by Colonel 
Dickson, in Persia. 

After this, some other circumstances directed the 
attention of Teniers to more original undertakings than 
those by which he had previously been known, and 
which would never have established his fame on its 
present basis ; and he appears seldom, unless in the way 
of amusement or indulgence, to have again exercised his 
old powers as a copyist. He became a constant and 
faithful observer of nature: the example of his father 
probably influenced him in choosing for his subjects 
village festivals, fairs, and merry-makings. His paint- 
ings on these subjects place before us not only the 
grotesque costumes of the villagers of his country, but 
represent, with much nature and great Justness of ex- 
pression, the play of their features, their manners, their 
passions, and their individual characters. That he 
might the more conveniently mingle with the scenes he 
chose to represent, he established ‘himself in the village 
of Perk, between Antwerp and Mechlin; and there ie 
studied the undisguised impulses of natural character 
among the lower classes of the people, and has left 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[Jury 5, 


many pleasing and beautiful memorials of occurrences 
in themselves uninteresting or even repulsive, but ren- 
dered engaging by the delightful mode in which they 
are represented. 

The landscapes of Teniers are not in general well 
chosen; but they possess in an eminent degree the 
merit of local truth, and the talent is astonishing with 
which he has exhibited the ever-varying effects of atmo- 
sphere. 
even by Claude Lorraine himself; and it often makes 
complete ameuds for the flatness and insipidity of his 
scenery. In the interior of apartments, the cottage, the 
cabaret, the guard-room, or the chemist’s laboratory, the 
clearness and precision of ‘Teniers is not less admirable 
than in his exteriors. He surpassed Ostade and many 
other painters in his knowledge of perspective of his art. 
The touch of Teniers’ pencil was lively, light, and ethe- 
rial; and the tone of his colouring is rich and natural. 
By continual practice upon the same system, he acquired 
an almost unexampled promptness in execution. This 
enabled him to paint a vast number of pictures. It was 
not ulusual for him to execute a picture in a single day, 
and he used himself jocosely to observe, that it would 
require a gallery six miles in length to contain all the 
pictures he had painted. He was in the habit of assist- 
ing the landscape painters of the day by putting figures 
into their pictures; hence there are many such works 
which owe an liucreased value to this circumstance. 
The works of Teniers are numerous in the collections 
of this country, Holland, and Germany, and still bear 
very high prices. Sir J oshua Reynolds used to regret 
that this artist had not employed on nobler subjects, 
than he has generally chosen, the elegance and preci- 
sion of his pencil. But this observation does not seem 
well founded. It is questionable whether he would have 
attained more than mediocrity in that rank where this 
elegance and precision could not always be a substitute 
for an jimate taste for fine forms and grandeur of style. 

he fine picture, our engraving of which is taken 
from the * Musée Frangais,’ possesses the usual charac- 
teristics of Teniers’ style, and is, therefore, remarkable 
for its soft and seg colouring. The general 

itl - the sky, the earth, the houses, 
the two am in 1 the side view, and even the trees, 
partake more or less of this tint. The principal figure, 
illuminated by a tranquil light, is placed upon a ‘clear 
depth; and the writer of the illustrative article in the 
work we have mentioned, dwells with much interest on 
the openness and serenity the countenance expresses, 
and conjectures, rather unnecessarily we imagine, that 
it 1s the portrait of a warrior who had disguised himself 
in this manner for the purpose of examining the 
enemy’s country and collecting the information n_necessary 
for a plan of attack. 

The life of Teniers, so far as known, presents few 
events that claim our notice. In private, the mild- 
ness of his manners and the regularity of his con- 
duct seem to have endeared him to all who were per- 
sonally acquainted with him. He soon obtained the 
favourable notice of the Archduke Leopold, who ap- 
pointed him his principal painter, and made him one 
of the eentlemen of his chamber. That eccentric 
woman, Christina, Queen of Sweden, made him a pre- 
sent of her portrait with a chain of gold; and the 
prince Don John of Austria became his pupil, After 
an industrious and apparently comfortable life of eighty- 
four years, Teniers died at Brussels in the year 1694. 





— 


KOORDS. 


Tue Koords, who inhabit a mountainous country, and 
live alternately in tents and houses, differ from the 
Bedouin Arabs in the traits which usually distinguish 
the inhabitants of mountains from the dwellers in 


In this high quality he is scarcely surpassed 


# 


1884.) 


plains; but they are equally with thera—perhaps more 
than equally—addicted to plunder in all its forms. 
They are no less skilful as thieves than daring as 
robbers. Personally, they are a much nobler race of 
men than the Arabs; and their higher measure of 
courage renders it more difficult to intimidate them 
from attacking travellers and caravans. ‘Their for- 
bearance is also less to be calculated upon than that of 
the Bedouins. With many respectable points in their 
character as a people, their passions are fierce and 
strong; and as their opportunities of plunder are less 
frequent than those of the Arabs, they are more anxious 
to make the most of them when they occur. An attack 
from Koords is therefore contemplated with considerably 
more alarm than one from the Arabs. The people who 
inhabit the country of the Tigris and Euphrates, and 
who are well acquainted with at least three of the 
parties embraced in the comparison, have a proverb 
which strongly indicates their opinion of the people to 
whom our statements refer :—‘* The Koords are worse 
than the Arabs ; the Arabs are worse than the Yezidees ; 
and tlhe Yezidees are worse than Eblis*.” 

Nevertheless, they do not kill the unresisting ; and, 
like the Arabs, are careful observers of the duties of 
hospitality. INo man will molest a stranger with whom 
he has eaten, nor suffer him to sustain any injury in 
property or person under the protection of his roof. 
In their cabins we have ourselves lain down to sleep on 
the same carpet with five or six of the most ferocious- 
looking men we ever saw, while our baggage lay about 
in the same room, and our throats were completely at 
the mercy of the daggers which each Koord wore in his 
girdle ; yet we awoke in safety, and were allowed to 
depart in peace. This was in Koordistan Proper; but 
Armenia also is very extensively inhabited by the same 
people; and when we were preparing to leave the 
capital of Persia, with the view of penetrating through 
Armenia to the Black Sea, our hopes of performing the 
journey in safety were considerably damped by the 
reports we heard of a powerful Koordish robber who 
infested the road near the narrow mountain-pass of 
Dahar, about four stages from Erzeroom. We were 
informed that it would, from the post be occupied, be 
scarcely posstble to escape his notice; and that even 
the British Envoy at the court of Persia was obliged to 
pay a sort of black-mail in the shape of annual presents, 
in order that his packages from England might not be 
plundered. 

This statement led us to regard our approach to 
Dahar with frequent anxiety while traversing the 600 
miles which intervene between it and ‘Tehraun. At 
last, the guide whom we had hired at the preceding 
stage to conduct us through the untrodden snows, and 
who, in snow-shoes and with bandaged legs, had 
trotted on without apparent weariness for twenty-five 
miles, brought us to the brow of a mountain, whence 
we looked: down into a deep and narrow dell. The 
guide directed our attention to a cluster of black spots 
on the snow, and informed us that it was the village of 
Dahar, inhabited by the robber chief and his people. 
It was our wish and intention to have pushed on, 
through the dell and the pass beyond, to the next 
village ; but the guide declared he could go no farther, 
and the muleteers made the same declaration for their 
jaded cattle. On better consideration, we were re- 
conciled to this, by perceiving that it would be im- 
possible to descend the mountain and pass through the 
village unnoticed; and we felt that it might be safer 
to exhibit confidence by claiming the hospitality of the 
chief, than to indicate our suspicions by attempting to 
pass on. ' 

Our guide had trotted down the mountain before us 
to notify our approach to the chief; and when we got 

* The Mohammedan name for the devil,. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


259 


down into the dell, he returned and conducted us to 
the very den of this Koordish lion. About the entrance 
stood several men who were much better dressed than 
the inhabitants of such small villages usually are. On 
our approach, a man, rather stout in person and much 
pitted with the small pox, stepped forward and assisted 
us to dismount. He was dressed in a scarlet pelisse 
and silk turban, and his appearance, as a whole, was 
very conciliating, though the somewhat lowering ex- 
pression about his eyebrows tended to neutralize the 
kindliness and good-humour expressed in his lower 
features. This was the chief himself. We were 
ushered into a room parted off from the stable by a 
wall about three feet high. This room was long and 
narrow ; and its length was divided into three equal 
portions, the middlemost of which was an open path 
leading from the entrance to the fire-place, while, 
between this and the wall on each side, the ground was 
covered with mats, felts, and carpets, on which several 
elderly men were reclining and smoking their pipes. 
There was a slight move among them when we entered, 
and a space on one side of the fire-place was cleared 
away for us, and there we spread out our own carpets 
and sat down upon them. It was our usual custom to 
arrange matters somewhat differently, and, if we found 
the people many or troublesome in the room ap- 
propriated to our use, to request them to withdraw. 
But this our present position did not warrant. In 
about ten minutes the chief came in and seated himself 
on the other side of the hearth; and, subsequently, 
the other men we had previously seen at the door 
dropped in, ‘until the room was nearly filled with 
smart-looking Koords, with daggered girdles, who, as 
they smoked their pipes, fixed their eyes on us and our 
doings with much attention. The chief only was 
furnished with a pipe by which the smoke is drawn 
through water before it arrives to the mouth; and as he 
sat quietly occupied with it, and fondling a fine little 
boy, the youngest of his sous, we felt there were many 
other men before us, either of whom, if left to our own 
impressions, we should more readily have guessed to be 
the famous robber of whom we had heard so much. 
Among our various observations, it was not the least 
amusing to note the humility, patience, and good- 


humour which had taken the place of the usually © 


morose and assuming’ manner of our Persian servant, 
Ali, as he moved about in the room while preparing 
our dinner at the fire. ‘The supper of the Koords was 
ready before our dinner ;—it cousisted of an enormous 
quantity of wheat* boiled with some bits of mutton, and 
lubricated with melted butter. Many were the nght 
hands employed in diving into this dish in search of the 
stray bits of mutton, and in compressing the grain into 
balls convenient for the mouth, until, in a very short 
time, the bottom of the capacious wooden bow! began 
to appear. The chief did not partake.- When the 
mess appeared, he intimated a wish for us to eat with 
them; but, as we had a fowl preparing, we declined, 
without at the moment adverting to the advantage of 
the proposal to us, as the Koords, hike the Arabs, rarely 
molest those with whom they have eaten. He then 
said he would himself wait and partake of our meal; 
and directed a plate of the pillau to be set aside for our 
use. When our dinner was served up, he came and 
seated himself at our tray, and, declining a knife and 
fork with something hke contempt, helped himself 
freely with his fingers to what he pleased, occasionally 
also handing a nice bit to his little boy; so that very 
soon we had, with his help, completely cleared the 
whole concern, to the visible uneasiness of our man, 
whose meal usually consisted of our leavings. 

* Rice is commonly used for this standard dish, which is calied a 
pillau, But rice is difficult to procure in the remote villages of 
Armenia, and wheat is used as a subsfitute. 

22 


260 


When our usual bed-time arrived we ventured to 
intimate a wish that the men should withdraw. The 
chief spoke a few words, and they immediately retired, 
only himself and an old white-bearded man remaining. 
They stayed until after midnight, when some coffee 
was brought in, of which the chief handed a cup to the 
writer, who was then awake, and shortly after withdrew 
with the old man. We had reason to think that he 
remained so late to prevent any of our property from 
being abstracted by his men. He came in again alone 
about four in the morning, and sat smoking his pipe 
until about eight, when, all our things being packed 
up, he went out to superintend the preparations for our 
departure. We then, on consideration, felt it would be 
prudent and proper to present him with a Dutch ducat 
for our accommodation. This sum, though not so 
large as to manifest our fears, was double the amount 
we were accustomed to pay. We accordingly sent out 
Ali to him with the money; but the man came back 
with the gold in his hand, stating that the Koord would 
not receive it from him, When we went out to mount 
our horses we tendered the coin ourselves, and he 
received it without hesitation, and with thanks, although 
his pride would not allow him to take it from the hands 
of one who was a Persian and a servant. He accom- 
panied us on foot to the end of the village, and then 
indicating the road we were to follow, wished us a safe 
journey, made his salam, and returned. | 

While in the house of, the chief we felt secure from 
every thing but the little thieveries which his people 
might be able to commit without his connivance. But, 
when we had left, we were not without, apprehension 
that, either with or without his knowledge, we might 
be pursued and plundered by some of the men with 
whom we had not eaten. Nothing of the kind occurred, 
however, though we did not feel quite at our ease until 
Dahar was nore than forty mes behind us. 

Notwithstanding the vigilance of the chief while we 
were his guests, the men contrived in several instances 
to prove that we did not unjustly suspect them. One 
such instance may be mentioned. When the writer 
awoke in the morning he missed his handkerchief; and 
after a careful search perceived it, to his great surprise, 
infolding the head of a man who was moving about in 
attendance on the horses. This impudent parade of 
the stolen article seemed so strange, that, but for the 
singularity of the pattern, its identity would have been 
doubted. As it was, we mentioned it to the chef, and 
he spoke to the man, who affirmed that the writer had 
civen it to him. ‘This being denied, the chief ordered 
him to return it. He then unwound it from lus head, 
and threw it down with an aggrieved and insolent air. 
There is another anecdote about the same handkerchief 
which seems worth relating here, though not in imme- 
diate connexion with our subject. Three days after 
leaving Dahar, we lodged in the housc of a Turk at 
Alwar, and the next day reached Erzeroom. We had 
not long arrived when a man called with this handker- 
chief which had been left behind at Alwar, and which 
the Turk had sent after us all the way (twenty miles) 
to Erzeroom. The man, when informed by ihe servants 
that he had brought it to the right place, went away, 
without claiming or waiting for any remuneration for 
his trouble. 


BURNING OF A SHIP AT SEA, AND SUFFER- 
INGS OF THE SURVIVORS AMONG THE 
CREW. 

We are indebted to the insertion, in No. 134, of the 

curious and interesting narrative of the sinking of the 

Royal George, for the communication from another 

correspondent of the following authentic statement of 

the loss of a ship at sea, which occurred in a different 


manner, and the details of which, if they be less dis- | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Jury 5, 


tressing than those narrated by Mr. Ingram, are so 
only because the number of sufferers was so much less 
than those who perished by the sinking of the Royal 
George. - 

The narrative which we are about to give is taken 
from a statement drawn up and authenticated by the 
sienature of one of the survivors, a gentleman whose 
station and character would be sufficient guarantee for 
its correctness, if indeed the simplicity of the tale did 
not give to it the impress of truth. That gentleman, 
Mr. William Boys, was a native of Deal, in Kent, and 
descended from one of the most respectable families in 
the county. When only fourteen years of age, he went 
to sea, and, after serving ten years in the navy, em- 
barked as second-mate in the ship Luxborough Galley, 
of 340 tons and 26 guns, employed by the South Sea 
Company for supplying Spanish America with slaves 
and European goods under the Assiento contract. 
After escaping in the manner we are about to narrate 
from the wreck of this vessel, he again entered the 
royal navy, and was constantly employed at sea during 
nearly thirty years, passing through different eradations 
of rank until he was commissioned to wear his broad 
pennant as commodore, on board the Royal Sovereign 
of 100 guns, and was appointed commander-in-chief of 
his Majesty’s ships in the Thames and Medway. In 
1761, he was made lieutenant-governor of Greenwich 
Hospital, and died in 1774, while holding that appoint- 
ment. Three of his grandchildren, who have dis- 
tinguished themselves in the naval annals of the country, 
now bear commissions as admirals in the service. 

* On the 23rd of May, 1727,” says Mr. Boys in his 
narrative, ‘‘ we sailed from Jamaica to London, and, 
on the 25th of June were in latitude 41° 45’ north, 
and longitude 20° 30’ east, from Crooked Island. 
About half an hour past noon, the captain’s cook dis- 
covered flames of fire through the lining of the fore- 
castle, and ran in consternation to the quarter-deck to 
give the alarm. At the same instant, the head of a 
puncheon of rum burst out with an explosion resembling 
the report of a cannon, which at once alarmed the 
whole ship’s company. It appeared that two black 


_ boys had becn sent by the steward to the store-room to 


draw off a bottle of rum, and observing some liquor on 
the deck, out of an unhappy curiosity to discover whether 
it were spirit or water, for the water-casks were all 
there, had put their candle to it, and in an instant the 
whole was in a blaze. Finding themselves unable to 
extinguish the flame, they left the place and hid them- 
selves. ‘The third-mate, the surgeon, the carpenter, 
and myself, got forward immediately, ripped off the 
tarpauling, opened the fore-hatchway, and then saw the 
lazaretto, or store-room, in a liquid fire. We went 
below and endeavoured to stifle the flame with swabs, 
rugs, blankets, our own clothes, and things of that 
sort; but finding all our efforts in this way ineffectual, 
we set the pump to work in the head, whence the water 
was handed down to us. In the mean time the captain 
indiscreetly ordered a scuttle to be cut through the 
deck of the forecastle, with a view to pour water directly 
on the fire; but this made the flames rage with re- 
doubled violence, and the whole forecastle was soon in 
a blaze. We who were below, finding the fire to in- 
crease very much upon us, desired the people on deck 
to get out the boats while we would still endeavour to 
quench the flames, which they promised to do; but 
when we could stay no longer below for the grcat heat, 
and came upon deck, we found not the least preparation 
made to hoist out the boats, the captain and greatest 
part of the crew being on the quarter-deck crying to 
God for help without using any means to save them- 
selves. When I afterwards questioned the captain, in 
the boat, as to the cause of this inactivity, he told me 
they expected every moment the powder would take 


1834.) 


fire and blow up the ship. This powder was directly 
under the scuttle where the fire was raging, a circum- 
stance we did not think of, or we might have done as 
they did. I immediately endeavoured to persuade the 
people that the boats were our only resource, and pro- 
ceeded myself to prepare and apply the tackle to the 
yawl. Iwas hoisted out in this boat by desire of the 
chief-mate, for fear, when she should be in the water, 
the men should run away with her before the longboat 
could be got out. As she was lowering down, he 
handed me the oars, one of which fell overboard, so we 
had but three. By the time she was in the water, there 
were seven or eight men in her, whom I entreated to 
return to the ship again in order to get out the long- 
boat, but they were unwilling to go back unless I would 
accompany them; upon which I took hold of a rope 
and was stepping into the ship when I observed the 
captain dropping into the boat. I pressed him to go 
back with me, but he told me the longboat’s bow was 
on fire, and at that instant, by a roll of the ship, I per- 
ceived the flames coming up the fore-hatchway above 
the longboat’s bow. At the same time it became ne- 
cessary to put off the boat, as the people were crowding 
into her, and there were then in her twenty-two men 
and boys. As we passed under the ship’s quarter, the 
captain called to the chief-mate, who was his brother, 
entreating him to jump into the water and swim to the 
boat; but he declined it, saying it was impossible the 
boat could swim many minutes, she having then her 
eunnel nearly even with the water, and the wind blow- 
Ing very fresh. 

‘© We left ‘sixteen men and boys in the ship, who all 
perished. They attempted to get out the longboat, and 
had in part succeeded; but before they could get her 
over the side we saw her how fall on the deck; pro- 
bably they could not stand near her for the flames, or 
the tackle was burned and gave way. In somewhat 
less than half an hour after we quitted her the ship was 
all on fire as far as the bulk-head of the steerage, most 
of the unhappy men being then on the quarter-deck. 
Shortly after, the whole of this part burst up at once in 
a flame. The guns went off from time to time as the 
metal grew hot; but her upper works were wholly 
destroyed, and nearly three hours elapsed before the 
gunpowder took fire. The explosion ret her to pieces, 
and we saw no more of her. Could we have stayed by 
the ship we probably might have saved some provisions 
after she blew up, but we were obliged from the first 
to put the boat right before the sea with two oars to 
prevent her filling. 

‘** As soon as our attention was disengaged from the 
ship and our comrades on board, we began to reflect 
on the horrors of our own situation. I came into the 
boat in my shirt and drawers, having thrown the rest 
of my clothes upon the fire. We had not time to take 
with us a morsel of victuals, or drop of drink; we had 
neither mast, sail, nor compass, and were at least 120 
leagues from the nearest land. It blew and rained 
hard the two first days and nights, and the sea ran so 
high, that we were obliged to sit close together abaft, 
on the gunnel, to keep out the waves. At tlus time 
we might have saved a considerable quantity of rain- 
water, but the apprehension of immediate destruction 
obliterated every thought of providing for our future 
wants, and besides we had no vessels in which water 
might have been kept. 

“On Wednesday it was fine weather, and then, as 
Providence had so wonderfully preserved us hitherto, 
we began to entertain some hope of deliverance, and 
contrived to make a sail by sewing together three frocks 
and a shirt with a sail-needle and some twine, which 
fortunately were in the pocket of one of the black boys. 
The broken blade of an oar, found in the boat, formed 
a tolerable yard. One of the oars served for a mast. | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


261 


The haulyards were formed of our garters, which were 
converted likewise into a tack and a sheet. We then 
ripped up the bottom-boards, under which we found 
several nails. A caulking-mallet was likewise discovered, 
and we were enabled to nail the boards to the gunnel, 
where the boat was straight, by way of wash-streak ; and 
where she rounded abaft we nailed slips of the men’s 
frocks, all which answered bravely. 

“Thus equipped, we hoisted our sail and steered as 
well as we could to the northward, knowing Newfound- 
land to be in that quarter; for, on the day the ship was 
burnt, I had worked my day’s work and pricked off my 
reckoning on the draught, and I took particular notice 
of our bearing and distance from Newfoundland. We 
Judged of our course a few days by the sun, the stars, 
and the captaih’s watch, which went pretty well; but 
afterwards it proved foggy, and we could not then judgre 
which way we went. 

‘On the fifth day it blew a storni, and about noon, 
when the gale was at its height, and our little boat in 
the utmost jeopardy, it was proposed to throw overboard 
the two black boys who set the ship on fire, in order to 
lighten the boat, which I opposed strongly; but, at the 
same time, thought it expedient to cast lots and give all 
an equal chance, which the captain would not consent 
to. However, we continued to talk of these measures 
hill the evening, when John Horn, who had been 
delirious with terror from the time we entered the boat, 
and one of the negro boys, both died, and then, the 
boat being lightened and the wind abating, we had no 
further occasion to consider the subject. The next 
day, in the afternoon, three more died raving, and 
calling out incessantly for water, as was the case with 
all who died afterwards ; and it was no small fatigue 
to us to restrain the poor wretches from jumping over- 
board to cool and refresh themselves in the sea. Our 
thirst now became intolerable. Every one but the 
captain, surgeon, and myself, drank sea-water, which, 
by a false taste, they thought to be quite fresh. We 
washed our mouths with it, but swallowed none. ‘The 
sail was frequently lowered and drained of every drop 
of moisture we could wring from it; then we sucked it 
all over, as we did every one his neighbour’s clothes 
when wet with fogs or rain. ‘Twice we saved some 
water, to the quantity, on the whole, of about three- 
quarters of a pint a-piece; but these sparing and 
regular supplies availed but little to alleviate the tor- 
ments of thirst under which we laneuished. 

** The sensation of hunger was not so urgent, but we 
all saw the necessity of recruiting our bodies with some 
more substantial nourishment, and it was at this time 
we found curselves impelled to adopt the horrible 
expedient of eating part of the bodies of our dead com- 
panions, and drinking their blood. Our surgeon, 
Mr. Scrimsour, a man of the utmost humanity, first 
suggested the idea, and, resolute to set us an example, 
ate the first morsel himself; but, at the second mouth- 
ful, turned his face away from as many as he could and 
wept. With great reluctance we brought ourselves to 
try different parts of the bodies of six, but could relish 
only the hearts, of which we ate three. We drank the 
blood of four. By cutting the throat a little while after 
death, we collected a little more than a pint from each 
body. Here I cannot but mention the particular 
respect shown by the men to the officers, for the men 
who were employed in the melancholy business of col- 
lecting the blood in a pewter bason that was in the 
boat, and the rest of the people, would never touch a 
drop till the captain, surgeon, and myself had taken as 
much as we thought proper. And I can truly affirm, 
we were so affected by this strong instance of their 
regard that we always left them a larger share than of 
right belonged to them. ‘This expedient, so shocking 
in relation, and so distressing to us in the use, was un- 


262 


doubtedly the means of preserving those who survived, 
as we constantly found ourselves refreshed and in- 
vigorated by this nourishment, however unnatural. 

“We often saw birds flying over our heads, and fish 
playing round the boat’s stern, which we strove to catch 
with our hat-bands knotted together, and a pin for a 
hook, baited with a piece of the dead men’s bodies; but 
with all our contrivance could not catch either fish or 
bird. 

‘“ On the seventh day our number was reduced to 
twelve. At night the wind came up moderately at 
5.S.E., as we judged, and increased till it blew a storm, 
which continued with very thick weather till about four 
the next morning, when it cleared up and we found the 
wind to be about N.N.E., still blowing hard, and the 
sea breaking, in a tremendous manner, all around us; 
but it pleased kind Providence that no very heavy seas 
struck the boat, which must have occasioned instant 
destruction, though we shipped as much water as we 
could manage to bale out. During the gale we were 
obliged to scud before the wind, which carried us much 
out of our way, and greatly diminished our expectation 
of reaching land. Our only hope was to be seen and 
taken up by some vessel, if the weather should be clear, 
which, indeed, was seldom the case. When foggy, and 
in the night, we frequently made as loud a noise as we 
could, that we might be heard by any passing vessel. 
In the day-time, our deluded fancies often represented 
to us the forms of ships so plain and near us that we 
called to them a long time before we were undeceived ; 
and in the night, by the same delusion,—the effect, 
probably, of fever—we heard bells ring, dogs bark, 
cocks crow, and men talk, on board of ships close to us; 
and blamed these phantoms for their cruelty in not 
attending to our distress. 

“On the 5th and 6th of July, three more of our 
company died. In the afternoon of the 6th we found 
a dead duck, which was green and not sweet; but we 
ate it, and heartily praised God for it, though in a 
happier situation it would have been an object offensive 
and diseustful. 

‘“‘ July the 7th, in the forenoon, we took a formal 
leave of one another, and Jay down in the bottom of 
the boat with a dead body, which we tried, but had not 
strength, to throw overboard, never expecting to get up 
again. We covered ourselves with the sail, which we 
had lowered some time before, through despair of its 
being of further use to us. After a while, finding 
myself uneasy, and wanting to change my posture, 
about one in the afternoon, J laid my hand on the 
eunnel to raise myself a little, and in the act of turning 
thought I saw land, but said nothing till I was perfectly 
satished of its reality, having frequently suffered the 
most grievous disappointments in mistaking foge-banks 
for land. When I cried out * Land! ‘ Land!’ and 
we were all convinced that it was so, good God, what 
were our emotions and exertions! From the lowest 
state of desponding weakness we were at once raised 
to extacy, and a degree of vigour that was astonishing 
to ourselves. 
boatswain, who was the strongest man in the boat, 
crawled to the stern and took the tiller. Two others 
found strength to row, from which we had desisted the 
four preceding days through weakness. At four o’clock 
another man died, and we managed to throw both 
the bodies overboard. 

** The land, when I first discovered it, was about six 
leagues off. ‘The wind was favourable, and, with sail 
and oars, we went three or four knots. About six 
o’clock we perceived some shallops in with the land. 
We steered for the nearest, and came up with her 
about half-past seven, just as she was getting under 
sail to carry in her fish. We hallooed to them as loud 


as we could, and they lowered their sail to wait for us; | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


We hoisted the sail immediately. The. 


[J uny 5, 


but, when we were close on board, to our great grief 
and astonishment, they hoisted their sail again and 
were going to leave us; our moans, however, were so 
piteous and expressive, that they soon brought-to and 
took us in tow. They mistook us for Indians, or rather, 


_as they told us, did not know what to think of us, our 


whole aspect was so unaccountably dismal! and horrible. 
They gave us biscuit and water, but the latter only 
was acceptable, having totally lost our appetite for 
solid food. 

‘“ At about eight in the evening we got on shore in 
Old St. Lawrence Harbour, on the western side of 
Placentia Bay, in Newfoundland, and were most kindly 
treated. They made chowder* for us, and gave us heer 
made of the tops of juniper, fermented with molasses. 
We lay all night before a large fire, expecting a good 
night’s rest, but could get very little sleep on account 
of the violent pains all over us. Captain Killaway died 
about three o’clock in the morning, having been speech- 
less thirty-six hours before. Our bodies were soon 
covered over with boils and sores, and it was eleven 
days before any of us could walk abroad. 

** On the 20th of July we left St. Lawrence Harbour, 
and got to Placentia on the 24th, with our little boat 
astern, in which we went on board the Ludlow Castle, 
a man-of-war commanded by Captain John St. Loo, 
who entered us immediately for victuals, and gave us 
leave to live on shore at the kind invitation of the go- 
vernor, who paid for the board of the surgeon and me 
at the tavern, and sent the rest to the barracks, where 
they were taken good care of, and recovered fast. When 
I told Captain St. Loo of the number of persons who 
came from the Luxborough in one boat he knew not 
how to give credit to my story; and one calm morning 
he ordered as many men as could be safely stowed in 
her to be carried on shore, when they could crowd no 
more than twenty into her with any prospect of work- 
ing the boat. But, alas! we were forced to lie on one 
another at first in the most uneasy situation till death 
made room for us. On the 4th of September, five of 
us (one went to New England) sailed for Biddeford, 
and arrived safely there on the Ist of October, after 
escaping great danger from the crazy state of the vessel. 
At Barnstaple, the mayor paid our horse-hire to Ilfra- 
combe. From thence we went by water to Bristol, 
where the merchants on ’Change collected money for 
our fare to London in the stage-coach, at which place 
we arrived on the 14th of October. 

“The boat in which we were saved was sixteen feet 
long, five feet three inches broad, and two feet three 
inches deep, pretty sharp for rowing well, and inade to 
row with four oars.” , 

I’or the whole of his after-life, Mr. Boys was accus- 
tomed annually to commemorate his escape by acts of 
private devotion, and an almost total abstinence from 
food during twelve successive days, beginning with the 
25th of June, and he besides adopted as a motto to 
his armorial bearings the legend, ‘ From fire, water, 
and famine, preserved by Providence.” 


CORNISH FISHERMEN. 


Tue employment of the Cornish fishermen is of two kinds; 
the one, the daily, quiet one of catching fish for the home 
market; the other, the periodical and grand occasion of 
catching pilchards and mackerel for the foreign market. 
The home demand is not sufficient to require the active 


{ exertion of one-fourth part of the number of fishermen resi- 


dent in the district; many of these, consequently, remain 
either very inactively employed, not employed at all, or 
employed in other kinds of labour, during the intervals of 
the pilchard and mackerel seasons. Indeed, all the various 
occupations formerly enumerated are occasionally blended 
in the practice of the same individual. Many of the miners 
are husbandmen, and not a few of them are both fishermen 


* Amess made with the heads of cod-fish. 


1834.) 


and sailors. “ So true ‘is this,’ says Pryce, ‘ that in St. 
Ives and Lelant, during the fishing season, they are wholly 
employed upon the water, to the great hindrance of the 
adjacent mines; and when the fishing craft is laid up 
against the next season, the fishermen again become tinners, 
and dive for employment in the depths of the earth.” In 
the ordinary proceedings of the domestic fishery there is 
nothing peculiar. Owing to the great mildness of the cli- 
mate in the winter season, the Cornish fisherman is exposed 
to comparatively few hardships, and being well clothed and 
well fed, and exposing himself to no unnecessary risks, his 
health or his life but rarely suffers from the ordinary course 
of his employments. 

In the pilchard season his exertions are often very great, 
but as this almost always happens in'summer, there is even 
then seldom any risk of health. I have formerly adverted 
to the quantities of this kind of fish caught in this district ; 
it is proper, in this place, to give a brief account of this ex- 
tensive and important fishery, as it Is a species of employ- 
ment which, both immediately and in its consequences, must 
exerf an important influence over the health of the natives 
of the district. ‘The precise region whence the shoals of 
piulchards that visit this coast come from is unknown; but 
the fact that the coast of Cornwall is the part of Great Britain 
where they first make their appearance, and that they sub- 
sequently are to be found on the western coasts of France 
and Spain, seems to prove that their course is from the west. 
They commonly reach Cornwall about the middle of July, 
and usually remain there until October. But both the 
period of their arrival and departure, and also the course 
they take, are uncertain, and have varied greatly in different 
years. Fifty or sixty years since, they remained on the 
coasts till Christmas, and the fishermen were engaged in 
their capture five or six months, but now the season does 
not last more than two or three months. Some years ago, 
indeed, as was formerly observed, they either did not appear 
at all on the Cornish coast, or only for a few weeks, or even 
days. In:former years they always appeared first on the 
northern coasts of Cornwali, towards the east, from whence 
they proceeded westward, round the Land's End, and then 
eastward along the southern coasts. Lately, however, they 
have, on some occasions, scarcely touched on the northern 
coast, but have made their first appearance on the eastern 
parts of the south coast. When the shoals make their ap- 
pearance, the fishermen are directed to them by persons 
stationed on the neighbouring heights, who are called huers, 
from their raising a we, and who announce the approach of 
the prey by the cry of Aeva. In a moment every man is at 
his post, and all is activity and eager expectation. The 
proper place where the nets should be cast or shot being as- 
certained, the boat, containing the great net, or sfop seen (sein), 
as it is called, and which is often 300 fathoms long and 17 
fathoms in depth, is rowed round the shoal, the net being at 
the same time thrown into the sea by two men,—a work 
which is performed with such dexterity that, in less than 
four minutes, the whole enormous net is shot, and the fish 
enclosed; the ends of it being then fastened together it is 
moored, or, where the shore is sandy and shelving, drawn 
into shallow water, the bottom of the net being kept to the 
ground by leaden weights, while the top is buoyed up with 
corks. 

The quantity of fish thus inclosed and captured is some- 
times enormous; one net has been known to inclose, at one 
time, as many as 1200 hogsheads, amounting to about three 
millions of fish. The inclosed fish are removed at Icisure 
from their fold into boats, by means of small nets, by which 
a portion of the fish is separated from the main‘ body and 
drawn up to the surface ; they are then conveyed on shore 
to be cured or salted in cellars, and after remaining there 
for five or six days, they are packed into hogsheads for ex- 
portation. The broken or refuse fish are sold for manure, 
and when mixed with sand, soil, or sea-weed, constitute a 
valuable and lasting compost. It is a common saying in 
the district, that a single pilchard will fertilize a foot square 
of land for several years.—Forbes's Medical Topography 
of the Land's End. 





HADDON HALL. 


Happon HALL is situated about two miles south of 
Bakewell in Derbyshire, on a bold eminence which 
rises on the east side of the river Wye, and overlooks 
the pleasant vale of Haddon. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘armorial escutcheons. 


263 


The high turrets and embattlements of this mansion, 
when beheld from the distance, gives it the resem- 
blance of a fortress. It consists of numerous apart- 
ments and offices, erected at different periods, and sur- 
rounding two paved quadrangular courts. The most 
ancient part is the tower over the gateway, on the east 
Side of the upper quadrangle, and was probably built 
about the reien of Edward III.; but there is no evi- 
dence by which its precise date can be ascertained. 
The chapel is of the time of Henry VI., and the painted 
elass in one of the windows affords the date ** Millesimo 
ceccxxvis,” or 1427: and the tower at the north-west 
corner, on which are the arms of the Vernons, Pires, 
&c., is nearly of the same period. The gallery was 
erected in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, after the death 
of Sir George Vernon ; but no part of the building is 
of a date later than the sixteenth century. 

The principal entrance, at the north-west angle, is 

under a.high tower, through a large arched gateway 
that leads by a flight of angular steps into the great 
court. Near the middle of the east side of the latter 
is a second flight of steps, communicating with the 
great porch, over the door of which are two shields of 
arms carved in stone. On the right of the passage 
leading from the porch is the Great Hall, haviug a 
communication with the grand staircase and state 
apartments ; and on the left, ranging in a line, are four 
large doorways, with great pointed stone arches, which 
connect with the kitchen, buttery, wine-cellar, and 
numerous small upper apartments that appear to have 
been used as lodging-rooms for the guests and their 
retainers. In the kitchen are two vast fire-places, with 
irons for a prodigious number of spits, various stores, 
great double ranges of dressers, an enormous chop- 
ping-block, &c: Adjoining: the kitchen are various 
lesser rooms, for larders and other purposes. 
- The Hall itself must have been the great public 
dining-room, for there is no other apartment in the 
building sufficiently spacious for the purpose. At the 
upper end is a raised floor, where the table for the lord 
and his principal guests was spread ; and on two sides 
is a gallery supported on pillars. From the south-east 
comer is a passage leading to the great staircase, 
formed of huge blocks of stone rudely jointed; at the 
top of which, on the right, is a large apartment hung 
with arras, and behind it a little door opening into 
the hall gallery. 

On the left of the passage, at the head of the stairs, 
five or six very large semicircular steps, formed of solid 
timber, lead to the Long Gallery, which occupies the 
whole south side of the second court, and is 110 feet in 
length and 17 wide. The flooring is of oak planks, 
which tradition states to have been cut out of a single 
tree that grew in the garden. ‘The wainscotting is 
likewise of oak, and is curiously ornamented. The 
frieze’ exhibits carvings of boars’ heads, thistles, and 
roses. In the midst of the gallery is a great square 
recess, besides several bow windows ornamented with 
Near the end of the gallery 
there is a short passage, that opens into a room having 
a frieze and cornice of rough plaster, adorned with pea- 
cocks’ and boars’ heads in alternate succession: an 
adjoining apartment is ornamented in the same man- 
ner; and over the chimney is a very large bas-relict 
of Orpheus charming the beasts, of similar composition. 
All the principal rooms, except the gallery, were hung 
with loose arras, a great part of which still remains ; 
and the doors were concealed everywhere behind the 
hangings, so that the tapestry was to be lifted up to 
enable a person to pass in and out ; but, for the sake of 
convenience, there were great iron hooks, (hany of 
which are still in their places,) by means of which it 
might be occasionally held back. The doors being thus 


| concealed, nothing can be conceived more ill-fashioned 


264 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. {Juty 5, 1834. 
than their workmanship. Few of them fit tolerably;in the time of Henry VI, the estate had become the 
close; and wooden bolts, rude bars, and iron hasps, | sole property of Sir Richard Vernon, whose last male 
are in general their best and only fastenings. heir, Sir George Vernon, who died in the seventh year 

The Chapel is on the south-west angle of the | of Queen Elizabeth, became so distinguished by his 
ereat court. It has a body and two aisles, divided | hospitality and magnificent mode of living, that he was 
from the former by pillars and pointed arches. The | locally called “ the King of the Peak.” By the mar- 
windows afford some good remains of painted glass. | riage of one of this person’s heiresses, who inherited 
By the side of the altar is a niche and basin for holy | the estate of Haddon, it came into the family of the 
water. An ancient stone font is likewise preserved | Manners, in which it still remains, being the property 
there. Near the entrance of the chapel stands a Ro- | of the Duke of Rutland. The Hall remained the prin- 
man altar, about three feet high, said to have been | cipal residence of this family until it was superseded, 
dug up near Bakewell. at the beginning of the last century, by Belvoir Castle 

The Park, originally connected with this mansion, | in Lincolnshire. In the time of the first Duke of 
was ploughed up and cultivated about sixty years since. | Rutland, (so created by Queen Anne,) seven score 

The gardens consist chiefly of terraces, ranged one | servants were maintained at Haddon Hall, and the 

above another, each having a sort of stone balustrade. | house was kept open in the true style of old English 

The prospects from one or two situations are extremely | hospitality during twelve days after Christmas. Since 

fine ; and in the vicinity of the house is a sweeping | then the scenes of ancient hospitality and revelry have 

croup of luxuriant old trees. only occasionally been renewed within its venerable 
This manor of Haddon was, soon after the Conquest, | walls. 

the property of the Avenells, by the marriages of whose | The above account of Haddon Hall is, with some 

co-heirs it became divided between the families of | abridgment and alteration, taken from ‘ The Beauties 

Vernon and Basset in the reign of Richard I. a of Eneland and Wales.’ tS Britton and ee | 


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®# Tho Office of tne Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 


Printed by Wintras CLrowxs, Duke Street, Lambetix, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





146.1] 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[JuLy 12, 1834. 





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[Remains of Upnor Castle} 


Upnor CaAsTLE is situated on the western bank of the 
River Medway, a little below Chatham, on the shore 
opposite to it. According to Kilbourne, the castle was 
built by Queen Elizabeth, in the third year of her reign, 
for the defence of the river; ‘* but as a fort,” says 
Grose, ‘‘ this place has never been of much consequence, 
especially as it was very injudiciously placed; and it 
has therefore very properly been converted to a powder 
magazine.” It derives its chief interest, perhaps, from 
the fact that it is one of the last, if not the last, places 
of defence in England built on the principle of the 
ancient castles. 

It is built chiefly of stone. Its external figure is a 
parallelogram, much longer than broad, the largest 
side facing the water. It has two towers at the extre- 
mities, the southernmost of which is appropriated to 
the use of the governor, but on account of its unfitness 
for his reception he never resides there: the entrance 
is in the centre of the west side. On the east side, 
next the river, are the remains of some stone walls, 
which seem to have formed a salient angle, like a 
modern ravelin. Here, probably, was a platform and 
battery, but the spot is now covered by high palisades, 
with a crane for shipping powder. Hasted said, more 
than forty years since, that there had not for many 
years been a gun mounted on the castle for service, nor 
indeed a platform to receive one. In the military 
establishinent for 1659 the pay of the governor was 


of a gunner, a servant, two corporals, one drummer, and 
thirty soldiers, with an allowance of Sd. a day for fire 
and candle. On the top of the bank, a small distance 
south-west of the castle, there is a modern-built barrack, 
capable of containing a company, where there is usually 
a subaltern’s party of invalids; but when there is a 
camp on the opposite shore, or soldiers in the barracks 
at Chatham, as we believe ts now generally the case, 
the duty of the castle is done by a detachment from 
thence: the gunners are also lodged there, and the 
storekeeper has a house and garden close behind the 
wall. ‘The present salary of the governor of Upnor 
Castle is 10s. a day, and under his orders are all the 
forts of the Medway, except Sheerness; but they are 
nearly all of them in much the same condition with 
Upnor itself. 3 

The only period at which this castle proved of any 
utility was in the reign of Charles II., in June, 1677, 
when the Dutch, under the famous Admiral De Ruyter, 
suddenly appeared at the mouth of the Thames during 
a protracted negotiation, and detached his Vice-admiral, 
Van Ghent, with seventeen of his lighter ships aud 
eicht fire-ships to sail up the Medway. Van Ghent 
took the fort of Sheerness with little difficulty, and, 
after destroying the stores, made dispositions to proceed 
up the river. In the meantime Monk, Duke of Albe- 
marle, made every effort that the suddenness of the 
surprise would admit to render the attempt abortive. 


only 5s. a day’; .and besides him, the garrison consisted | He sunk several ships in the channel of the river, and 


You, III. 


2M 


266 


drew a chain across, beltind which he placed the Unity, 
the Matthias, and the Charles the F'ifth,—three large 
men-of-war that had just been taken from the Dutch, 
who were then advarcint very fast, dlid; having thie 
advantage of wind and tide, passed through the sunken 
ships and broke the chain. The three ships that 
euatded it were instantly in one tremendous blaze; and 
Van Ghent continued to advance until, with six men- 
of-war and five fire-ships, he came opposite Upnor 
Castle; but he there met so warm a reception from 
Major Scott, the commandant of the castle, and Sir 
Edward Spragee, who directed the battery on the 
opposite shore, that he thought it best to draw off, his 
ships having received considerable damage. On their 
return, however, they burnt the Royal Oak, the Great 
James, and the Loyal London. The former was com- 
manded by the brave Captain Douglas; who, in the 
confusion of the day, had received no directions to 
retire, and who perished with his ship. . His last words 
were, “‘ It never shall be said that a Douglas quitted 
his post without orders.” 


OLD TRAVELLERS. 
Wits pe Rusrvuquis.—No. I, 

Tus very distinguished old traveller; who explored 
Lartary and several countries of the East lon& before 
Marco Polo, was born in Brabant about the yeur 1230. 
Pits, in his curious work of ‘ British Biography,’ says 
he was ai Enelishman; but, from all we have been 
able to ascertain, we have no right to claim him as a 
countryman. His real name was Ruysbroeck, which, 
according to the fashion of the times, he latinized into 
Rubruquis. He entered a convert of friars of the 
Minorite order early iti life; and shortly after his 
novitiate was passed and he had taken his vows and 
been ordained a father or priest, he quitted Europe and 
went to the Holy Land. : 

Palestine and Syria were then the great points of 
attraction to religious, enthusiastic, and enterprising 
mén ; and the recent, though short-lived, successes of 
the fourth crusade under the French king Louis IX., 
or. St. Louis, were, at the moment when Rubruquis 


first contemplated his pilgrimage, reviving the hopes of } 


the Christians of Europe, that the country where their 
religion originated would bé recovered froni the Crescent 
and restored to the Cross, _ nol.” , 

It appears, “ hoWeéver; ‘that. wheh Father William 
réached Syria, Lotis had béén diréady défeated, atid 
was then a prisonér t6 the Mohatntiiedins: This pious 
King, who had béén told sdthe extratidinaty Stories 
about the existencé Of a prédt Christiiti peoplé in the 
wilds of Tartary, govertled by a Prestet, ot Privdt John; 
hid sent in that diréétion some niotiks a& édfivoys; alld 
to soli¢it ai allianee And ‘cooperation ‘Heainst the tr 
believers of Asia; befuré Ribruqti¢ atrivil in the Bast: 
These envoys returned without perfortning a sixth part 
of the journey set dowii for thém; and without pro- 
ducing any favourable impréssiofi 6fi su¢h of the 
haughty Tartar khans a8 they weéte -petihilted to coins 
municate with. Not discouraged by this ill Suecéess; 
and still as far as éver frolii being conviticed that this 
great Christian people, and this Prestér Johti, wéte 
mere visions, St: Louis resolvéd to send another ém- 
bassy to Tartary, and appoitted Rubiiquis; Fritr 
Bartholomew of Creiinona, and & certain Friat Andréw 
io this diffictilt dnd dangerdiis thission: | 
Phere is soitie obsciirity on this point, probably 
arising simply ftom a riistake i date madé by thé 
copyists of his maiitscript} but in the first; aiid ll the 
cther editioiis and abstracts we have seen, Rubrugqtils 
is made to say that hé began his jottrney iti 1253, in 


Which King Lotis was still a captive, and lie (the | 
inohk) only twetity-three years old. A more ¢€orrect 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Juny 12, 


date might be 1255, or, perhaps, a little later*, “But, 
after all, this is not a very important point. 

Before his departure, Louis strictly enjoined him to 
write down everything he saw dnd heard among: the 
Tartars; and, by conscientiously obeying this order, 
Rubruquis, though as a political and religious envoy he 
was not niuch more successful than those who had gone 
before him, brought back an immense deal of curious 
information onthe subject of that nomadic people, 
which was new to Europe at the time, and which, 
after the lapse of six centuries, is still about the best 
and most correct picture we possess of Tartar life. 
The wandering tribes of that great race, which occupies 
so large a portion of the globe, have changed little since 
tle thirteenth century ; but few travellers have been 


among them in their native wilds since then, and those 


who have, like Marco Polo, John Bell of Antermony, 
and ‘Timkowsky, confirm most of Rubruquis’ details. 

_ Taking the date of the printed volumes before us, it 
was on the 7th of May, 1253, that Rubruquis entered 
the Pontus, the Etixine, or, ds it is now more gerierally 
called, the Black Sea, from the side of Constantinople. 
On the 2ist of the same month, he safely landed at 
Soldaia, near Cherson (where our philanthropist, 
Howard, died in 1790). But here the Fiar's ainoy- 
ances began. | 

King Louis being uncertain how the mission might 

succeed, and anxious to avoid committing his royal 
dignity, had instructed Rubruyitis and his companions 
to give out that they were travelling on their own 
account, and at the instigation of their own views and 
hopes. The monks had so represented themiselves ; birt, 
at Soldaia, people would not believe them, and hit upon - 
the true story,—that they weré sent as atmbassadois 
from the Holy Land. Rubruquis kept to his story. 
He said, as a minister of the church of Christ, he Had 
heard, in the Holy Land; and with infinite joy, tHat 
Sartach, a great Tartar lord, of whom he was in search, 
was a Christian and a foe to infidels; and that, secing 
at the same time King Louis fighting against the Sara- 
cens in the Holy Land, he (Rubruquis) and his compa- 
nions were going to Sartach, at their own instigation, 
to solicit his alliance. 

_As the Tartars of those days were as averse as 
their descendants of the present time (particularly the 


‘Tattars that fulé Chine) to prant 4 passage through 
their country to afiy foréieter’ except stich ds were 
séiit as aniblissadors from kings; 
to acknowledge that he was the Bearer df létters from 
‘Hig -royal mastér, Lbouis, to thé khan Sartach. In 
-anuther lttlé trait thé Tartar’ of old tiniés alsé re- 
dénibléd’ thé Tartats of our dwitt diy, for Rubrugiis 
tells wg thit théy never lodked kitidly ori the stranger 
whi went atnong thént &nipty-haided: Thé monks 


Rubruquis Was obliged 


had décdfdinigly edtriéd With thet Front Congtantifople 


what they este&med a good provision of driéd fruits, 


sweet wines, and delicate biscuits, and of thesé they 
made presents to thé gteat men at Soldait: According 
to Rtibruquis, hé dnd his compaiions Were téteived with 
much civility ¢ but it appeat's to us; froth the treatment 
they nftetwaids niet with, that théir presents were not 
considéréd as sufficiéntly vahiablé, of bs betbkenine 
fnk or cotisidération i thésé Whd maddé them. The 
nidhks; indédd; Whell pressed UY Ather Océasions for 
richer offétings; pleaded that; by tueit uller, they were 
prohibited front possessing silver Arid gold, jéwels; or 
precious rdiment ;—that they weré espoused to poverty 
by 4 Vow, atid could neither récéive nor give stich 
things. ‘Fhis coifession evidently did not raise them in 

the estimation of the Tartars: pr. 
Before leaving Soldaia, Which is supposed to bé the 
aiicieht Ladgyri; Rubytiqiis ifortns us that that city 
was the cétitre of a very considerable trade, and that 
* St) Louid recovdted hid Werty ih 12942 


. 


1834.] 


the Russians, traversing Tartary, came there in great 
numbers to sell peltry. ‘The merchants from Constanti- 
nople, and other ports now included in the Turkish 
empire, brought silks, cotton cloths, other manufactured 
stutis, and aromatic Spices, and these they exchanged 
at Soldaia for ermines, martens, and other valuable furs 
produced in the market by the traders from Russia and 
Siberia. When the monks began their journey in search 
of the great Christian, Sartach, they were accommo- 


dated by the Tartars with a saddle-horse apiece; in 


addition to which they had some covered carts, like 
those the Russians used to carry their skins to market. 
As these carts were drawn by oxen, they proceeded very 
slowly, but they were great conveniences in the house- 
less deserts they had to pass, the travellers sleeping in 
them at night. 

In the third day of their journey from Soldaia the 
monks fell in with’ the wandering Tartars, and Rubru- 
quis, saying he thought himself ‘f entered into a new 
world,” proceeds to ‘describe the novelties that struck 
him. His sketches have the same graphic power and 
brevity that characterize those of Marco Polo. 

These Tartars had no fixed residence ; their numerous 
tribes wandered as masters over an immense extent of 
country, the greater portion of which was in Asia, though 
a large part of Europe was also subject to them. Their 
moveable habitations and their flocks were found from 
the remote East as far as the left bank of the Danube. 
In summer, they travelled towards the mountains, or 
the cooler countries of the North; in the winter, they 
descended to the plains, or sought the warmer regions 
of the South. Wherever they went they carried their 
all with them, leaving scarcely a trace of their residence 
or existence in the places they abandoned. ‘Their houses, 
if such they could be called, went upon wheels, and 
were drawn from place to place by oxen. ‘They were 
made of wattled rods and wicker-work, and in form 
were not much unlike our common dod hives. ‘There 
was one door in front, with a felt curtain ornamented 
with painting. Rubruquis does not inform us as to 
the good or bad style in which they were executed, but 
he says they had much coloured felt, painted with vines, 
trees, birds, and beasts, for decorating their dwellings. 
Some of these travelling abodes were so large and 
ponderous that it required a whole herd of animals to 
drag them slowly along. 
as many as twenty-two bullocks put to one house. 
These oxen were not harnessed in pairs, like our coach- 
horses, but drew eleven abreast. One man always stood 
on the waggon, in front of the house-door, to urge on the 
bullocks nearest the wheel, and another man or a boy, or 
frequently a girl, walked ahead of the leaders. The 
houses were so constructed that, at the end of a journey, 


they could be taken off the awh and set down on- 


the ground. On such occasions, the doors, from some 
notion of their religion or idolatry, were always turned 
to face the south; and the waggons on which they had 
been carried, and their attendant carts, were drawn up 
in two compact lines,—one in front, and the other 
in rear, of the habitations. | 

We have seen some fine old Dutch prints in which 
the artists have attempted to represent a line of these 
Tartar dwellings while travelling, and then again while 
dismounted and stationary. 
be taken from verbal descriptions, it is more than 
probable that the engravings are not altogether correct, 
but the scenes they offer are animated and picturesque 
in the highest degree. 
their parapets of | waggons, look like little fortresses ; 


—numerous flocks are scattered far around, and nearer | 
at hand the patient camels and oxen rnininate, and | 


the horses are tied, each by one leg, to small stakes 
driven into the ground. In the middle distance men 


“ most beautiful ” 


The friar sometimes counted 


As the notions paul only: 


The dismounted houses, with. 
| diuretic quality,—exhilarating to the spirits, and even 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 267 


long-maned horses, and another wheeled moving town 
appears in.the horizon. 

One Moal, a rich ‘Tartar, often had as many as a 
hundred of these wag gon-houses, in which he carried 
about his many wives, his children, and all their female 
attendants. Rubruquis says that, when the camp was 
formed, the house of the first wite was placed to the 
west, and all the others, according to their occupants’ 
degree, extended in one line eastward, so that the last 
wife was to the east, or left of all that between the 
house of each wife there was the space ofa wood stone’s 
throw, so that the station of a great Tartar appeared 
hike a town,—but one in which there were very few 
men. He adds that some of the married women had 
waggons and houses made for them- 
selves, and regrets that his ignorance of the art of 
drawing prevented him from giving Kine Louis a4 


proper notion of them. We may conclude, from this 


and similar assertions made by the worthy monk, that 
the wandering Tartars were far removed from utter 
barbarism. Each house was accompanied by one or 
more large chests, which might be called the family 
store-room and treasury, for in them were deposited the 
household goods and chattels and all their owner’s 
valuables. ‘These chests were square, made of small 
split wicker, with an arched lid or cover, and a small 
door at the front end. ‘They were well smeared over 
with suet, or sheep’s milk butter, to keep out the rain, 
and were also fancifully painted, and ornamented with 
feathers in parts. They were fastened to carts much 
higher from the ground than the waggons that supported 
the dwelling-houses, and, unlike them (the houses), they 
were never taken off their wheels. ‘These carts were 
not drawn by bullocks, but by camels, They could 
thus ford the smaller rivers of Asia without injuring or 
wetting their contents. 

The old traveller goes on to inform us that within 
their dwellings they had always certain /ares, or house- 
hold gods, which were nothing more than little images 
or puppets made of felt. Near the door of every house 
there was a figure with a cow’s udder—the guardian 
spirit of the women who milked the kine; and opposite 


to it was another ficure having the udder of a mare 


—the tutelar divinity. of the men who milked the fiercer 
animals, the mares. According to the Tartars, it was 
an unpardonable effeminacy for a man to milk a cow, 
and for a woman to milk a mare was equally unseemly. 
Among them, the grand distinction between the two 
Sexes lay j in this. 

With the milk of their mares, they made a fermented 
liquor called Cosmos, which was the only drink they 
cared for during summer. ‘The: milk was thus obtained 
and prepared. oy hey tied the young foals of the mares 
that were to be milked to a long line fastened at each 
end to a post fixed in the ground. dhe mares would 
thus stand quietly near their young ones and allow 
themselves to be milked. If, as it sometimes happened, 
a mare proved unruly, her colt Was brought to her and 
allowed to suck alittle, after which the man could 
generally succeed in milking her. When a good quan- 
tity of milk was procured, it was poured fresh and 
foaming into a large skin bag. The bag was then 
‘beaten with a wooden club until the milk it contained 
beean to ferment and acquire a certain sourness. After 
the bag was shaken a little, it was cud¢elled again in 
the same manner until butter was formed. The liquid 
part was then fit for drinking. Our traveller says that 
he found it an exceedingly pleasant beverage, and of a 


intoxicating to weak heads, —that it was pungent to 
the taste ca like raspberry wine,” but left a flavour on 
the palate “like almond milk.” Cara-cosmos, or 
black cosmos, a drink reserved for the erandees, was 


are seen scouring across the plain, on long-tailed and | produced by prolonging the beating of “the bag con - 


2M 2 


268 


taining the mare’s milk until all the coagulated portions 
subsided to the bottom like the lees of wine. 

The Tartars paid their taxes, or tribute, to their lords, 
in cosmos and cara-cosmos. According to Rubruquis, 
the great Baatu received the daily produce of 3000 
mares, besides a quantity of white cosmos from others 
of his vassals. A bowl of cosmos almost always stood 
on the threshold of every rich man’s house. ‘The 
Tartars often drank of it to excess, and, on grand 
uccasions, they always got drunk to music, for a 
minstrel stood by the bow! and regulated the libations. 
Rubruquis says he saw no citterns, lutes, or viols, such 
as were used by Europeans in those days, but that they 
had many other instruments which we had not. At 
their great feasts, all the guests clapped their hands 
and danced to the music,—the men before the giver of 
the feast, the women before his chief wife. The master 
of the house, like Parson Trulliber*, always drank first. 
The instant he put his lips to the cosmos, his cup-bearer 
cried out aloud ‘** Hat” and the musician struck up 
con fitoco, When the entertainer had finished his 
draught, his cup-bearer exclaimed ‘* Ha!” as before, 
and the music was hushed. Then, after a pause, all 

* See ‘ Joseph Andrews.’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Jory 12, 


the guests, the women as well as the men, drank round 
in turns, with music to every draught, and a pause and 
a silence after each. The descriptions given by John 
Bell, and other later travellers, of the feasts held at the 
court of the emperors of China, who, as our readers 
must bear in mind, are Tartars and not Chinese, re- 
semble very closely this account of Rubruquis. In the 
court there is less coarseness and excess, and infinitely 
more pomp, than in the Tartar camp; but the mode of 
drinking, the cries, the music, the pauses between, are 
the same in both. 

Our friar says that, at the feasts in the desert at which 
he was present, the Tartars of both sexes generally 
seemed to try who could drink most, and that they 
always drank very foully. Their method of pressing 
a person to drink was to seize his ears and pull them 
forcibly. Though so much addicted to mare’s milk, 
they seem to have had no objection to the monk’s 
sweet wine. He tells us that, on one occasion, when 
claiming hospitality, he was asked for a present,—that 
he gave the master of the house one bottle of wine,—that 
the Tartar emptied it in a trice, and then demanded 
another bottle, “‘ because,’ said the nomadic logician, “Sa 
man never enters another man’s house on one leg alone.” 





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Tue mammee-tree belongs to the family of the gutti- 
jere, the same with that of the mangostan, It is a 





(7 wees Pian 
VRS A: Wi ay 


¢ oy” ~ > Ne LE» tA 2 | 


f ~~ fanaa t~ 
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native of the West Indies, where it grows to a large 
tree,—sixty or seventy feet in height, Browne states 


- 1834.} 


that it is one of the largest in Jamaica; that it affords 
excellent timber, and abounds with a resinous gum. It 
is a handsome, straight-growing tree, with a spread- 
ing head; and the leaves are oblong and obtuse, 
with very many fine, closely-set, parallel veins. ‘The 
fruit of the mammee is yellow, not unlike, either in 
shape or size, one of the largest russet apples. The 
outer rind, which easily peels off, is thick and leathery ; 
beneath this is a second very delicate coat, which 
adheres closely to the pulp, and should be carefully 
removed before eating the fruit, as it leaves a bitter 
taste in the mouth, which, though not very strong at 
first, it is said will continue for two or three days. ‘The 
seeds, of which there are two or three in the centre, are 
resinous and very bitter; but the pulp under the skin— 
which, when ripe, is of a deep yellow, resembling that 
of the finest apricot, and of considerable consistency— 
is very fragrant, and has a delicious but very peculiar 
flavour. It is eaten either raw and alone, or cut into 
slices with wine or sugar, or preserved in syrup. To 
people with weak stomachs it is said to be more delicious 
than healthful; but still it is highly prized, and abun- 
dant in the West India markets. A liquor called San 
Creole is also obtained from its flowers in Martinique 
by distilling them with spirits. ‘The mammee was 
found by Don in the vicinity of Sierra Leone; but 
whether native there, or imported from America, cannot 
be ascertained. 

It was introduced into England in 1735, and is culti- 
vated as an evergreen exotic. 


Re ch TA LI of oy ‘ 
ra tA J , 2. 7 
r Fi ct GHA (0h 
ne f, Fe Ye “iy 
r rf i " wy 4 4 —A 
Ps ete tye 
fig fei fee Ged 
4 i hy 7 
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“ rere . " es et % 
7 EE PORE RR FERRE 
é fie ASA ‘ 
4 ‘ ~ ‘ 
re : 
j S 





(Leaf, Flower, and Fruit of the Mammee.] 


THE FUGGER FAMILY. 


Tue founder of the Fugger family was John Fugger, 
a weaver in a village near Augsburg. His eldest son 
John, likewise a weaver, obtained by marriage the 
rights of a citizen of Augsburg, and carried on a linen 
trade in that city, which was then an important com- 
mercial place. He was one of ‘the twelve weavers who 
sat in the council. He died in 1409, His eldest son 
Andrew inherited and acquired such immense wealth 
that he was commonly known as the rich Fugger. 


His line became extinct in 1583, John’s eldest son, | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘books, 


269 


James, was the first Fugger who owned a house in 
Augsburg. He was also a weaver, but carried on a 
very extensive commerce. Three of his sons, Ulrich, 
George, and James, extended their business and 
strengthened the foundations of the family greatness. 
They married ladies of noble families, and were them- 
selves ennobled by the Emperor Maximilian. The 
Fuggers rendered great services to the House of 
Austria, and Maximilian, who was often in want of 
money, always found them ready to assist him. For 
70,000 gold florins, he pledged to them the county of 
Kirchberg and the lordship of Weissenhorn for ten 
years; and, on eight weeks’ notice, they raised 170,000 
ducats to assist Pope Julius II. in carrying on the war 
against Venice. James attended to mining. He farmed 
the mines of Schwartz in the Tyrol, and became im- 
mensely rich. He built the magnificent castle of Fug- 
gernau, In the Tyrol, and died in 1503. The Em- 
peror Maximilian attended his funeral in person. 'The 
Fuggers continued to work these and other mines, by 
which the family wealth was greatly increased, and 
their goods were sent to every country. ‘The family 
reached its greatest prosperity in the reign of Charles V. 
All its wealth had fallen to George, who had two sons, 
Raymond and Anthony. When the Emperor Charles V, 
held the memorable Diet of Augsburg, he resided up- 
wards of a year in the splendid house of Anthony, who 
had free access to his person, since his family often sup- 
plied the deficiencies of the imperial treasury, and the 
emperor relied much upon their assistance in his 
exigencies. He created both the brothers counts and 
bannerets,—he invested them with the domains which 
had been mortgaged by Maximilian,—he granted to 
them a seat among the counts in the imperial diet, and 
bestowed upon them princely privileges. About five 
years after he conferred on them the right of striking 
vold and silver coins, which they exercised five times 
in the course of the seventeenth century. Anthony 
Fugger left, at his death, 6,000,000 gold crowns, 
besides jewels and other valuable property, and pos- 
sessions in all parts of Europe and both Indies. It 
was of him that the Emperor Charles, when viewing 
the royal treasures at Paris, exclaimed,— There is at 
Augsburg a linen weaver who could pay as much as 
this with his own gold!” 

‘‘ This noble family,” says the ‘ Mirror of Honour,’ 
‘contained, in five branches (in 1619), forty-seven 
counts and countesses, and, including the other mem- 
bers, young and old, about as many persons as the year 
has days.” Even after they became counts, the Fuggers 
continued their commerce; and their wealth became 
such that, in ninety-four years, they bought real estates 
to the amount of 941,000 florins, and, in 1762, owned 
two counties, six lordsllips, and fifty-seven other estates, 
besides their houses and lands in and around Augsburg. 
They had collections of rich treasures of art and rare 
Painters and musicians were supported, and 
the arts and sciences were liberally patronised, by them. 
Their houses and gardens exhibited the finest examples 
of the architecture and taste of the times, and their dis- 
tinguished guests were entertained with regal mag- 
nificence. When Charles V., after his campaign to 
Tunis, paid a visit to Count Anthony, the latter kindled 
a fire of cinnamon wood in his hall with the emperor’s 
bond given him for an immense sum, which he had 
supplied for the expenses of the expedition. While the 
industry, the prudence, the honours, and the influence 
of the Fugger family are thus mentioned, their bene- 
volence, their charity, and their zeal to do good and to 
relieve the distressed, must not be forgotten; but it 
would be hard to enumerate all the hospitals, schools, 
and charitable institutions which they founded. 

The Fugger family ultimately became divided into 
two lines,—that of Raymond and that of Anthony. 


270 


Each has been subdivided into several branches; but 
they all style themselves “ Counts Fugeer of i ach. 
bere and Weissenhorn.” The Kirchberg-Weissenhorn 
branch of the Raymond line owns the county of Kirch- 
berg and four lordships, with above 14,000 tenants, 
ar 80,000 florins revenue. Count ‘Atiecian “Maria, 
Prince of Babenhausen, was raised by the present 
emperor, in 1803, to the rank of prince of the empire 
(hereditary in he male heirs), and three imperial lord- 
ships which he held were erected into the principality 
of Babenhausen. He died in 1821. The principality 
of Babenhausen, the capital of which is the market- 
town of the same name on the Gtnz, contains 148 
square miles and 11,000 inhabitants, and affords a 
revenue of 80,000 florins. When the Confederation of 
the Rhine was established, in ]806, this principality, 
with the other estates of the family, became a part of 
the dominions of the King of Bavaria ; but the owners 
were allowed, by express treaty, to retain many of their 
priv ileges. The scattered territories of the counts and 
princes of the Fugger family are computed to amount, 
in the whole, at present, to about 440 square miles, 
with 40,000 inhabitants. 

The monument of commercial industry and _per- 
severance which the Fugger family presents would 
not be so singular in its splendour, were it less custo- 
mary for the third and fourth generations to relinquish 
the pursuits by which wealth is acquired in the first 
and second. 


Wild Dogs in Van Diemen’s Land.—The ‘ Hobart Town 
Courier’ states, that the ravages committed by the wild 
dogs on the sheep throughout the interior, which we noticed 
in a former Number, continue to be the subject of daily and 
increasing complaint. The rapidity with which these ani- 
inals multiply , and the growing savageness of their nature, 
render them one of Te wor st scourges, as far at least as 
regards property and subsistence, that has yet visited this 
young colony. ‘Indeed, the kangaroo dogs, or mongrels of 
the mastiff and ereyhound, from which they have sprung, 
are in their wild state both ‘fierce and powerful, and, congre- 
gating in parties as they do, are far more dangerous to man 
than so many wolves. In one or two instances, human life 
has already been put in danger by them. In further illus- 
tration of this subject, which j is one of those we shall endea- 
your to keep in view, we may quote the following from the 
article ‘“‘ Ascension Island,’’ in the ‘ Penny Cyclopedia :” — 
“In order to destroy the rats with which the island was 
overrun, a number of cats were introduced, which, however, 
multiplying and becoming wild, proved very destructive to 
the young fowls and rabbits, so that the garrison ‘have been 
compelled to call to their assistance a colony .of bull-terriers 
to wage war on their combined enemies of the feline tribe.” 
it seems to us not unlikely that, unless a proper check be 
kept on their increase, the terriers will become wild like the 
cats they were introduced to- destroy. 


CEMETERY OF PERE LA CHAISE. 
Tur burial-grounds which had been established out- 
side the city of Paris before the custom of church 
interment came into use, gradually became enclosed 
within the walls by the extension of the city. Measures 
had, some years before, been taken to clear away the 
great cemetery of “‘ The Innocents;” but the first 


general measure was adopted in 1790, when the. 


National Assembly -passed a law expressly prohibiting 
interment within churches, and commanding all towns 
and villag@es to discontinue the use of their old burial- 
places, and form others at a distance from their dwell- 
ines. During the revolutionary tyranny, which soon 
after commenced, when death was officially declared .to 
be an eternal sleep, the dead were buried without any 
ceremony, and no memorials were erected to denote the 
spot where they lay, or “ claim the passing tribute of a 
sigh?’ But, in the year . 1800, a decree was issued by 
the Prefect a the department ai the Seine, which or- 
dained that three cemeteries should be enclosed for the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


l Jury 12, 


use of Paris, of a certain extent, and at a distance of 
one mile from the walls. In the centre of each a sort 
of chapel was to be erected, destined for the reception 
of the funeral procession, and for the celebration of 
the ceremonies preceding the interment. Six funeral 
temples were also to be erected in different parts of the 
city,to serve as depots before the funeral ; and regulations 
were prescribed, which, although good on the whole, ap- 
pear to have been very eenerally disregarded. In 1804 
an imperial decree was issued by one who was not 
accustomed to allow /s orders to be trifled with. After 
renewing the former prohibitions against interments in 
cities and churches, this decree directs high ground, 
exposed to the north, to be chosen for cemeteries, in 
which every corpse was to be interred in a separate 
erave, from a metre and a half to two metres deep, and 
the earth to be well trodden down. ‘There was to be a 
certain distance between the graves, which were not to 
be re-opened until after five years. Another imperial 
decree in 1811 consigned the whole funeral business of 
the metropolis to one undertaker-general, arranged 
funerals into six classes, and appointed a tariff wher eby 
the expense of every separate article and assistant was 
determined; the sym total in either class might not be 
exceeded, but might be diminished if the family of the 
deceased chose to strike out anything in the list. The 
whole expenses of the first class amounted to 1781. 8s. 4d. ; 
of the second to 75/.; of the third to 291. 3s. 4d.; the 
fourth to 102. 8s. 4d.; the fifth to 4/. 3s. 4d. ; and the 
sixth to only 13s. 4d. "This is the French law relating 
to burials, which is still in force in Paris. 

The present cemeteries of Paris are five :—that of 
Pere la Chaise, of Montmartre, of Vaugirard, of St. 
Catherine, and of Mont-Parnasse. ‘They are laid out 
in a picturesque style; the monuments are generally in 
good taste,—better than is usually found in England; 
and many of the inscriptions are interesting and tender, 
though there is no lack of absurdities, vanities, ate 
far-fetched conceits such as those which disgrace our. 
own churches and churchyards. These cemeteries are 
considered as public promenadess parties are made to 


visit them; and in their neighbourhood taverns and- 


other houses are established for the entertainment of 
those whom grief, curiosity, or recreation, attracts 
to the cemeteries. On Sundays, particularly, they are 
much resorted to by the inhabitants of the capital; and 
on All Souls’ Day, which is appropriated by the Catholic 
Church to the commemoration of the dead, people visit 
the wraves of their friends in mourning attire, and with 
forms of lamentation. It is necessary to state thus 
much generally concerning the cemeteries of Paris. 
The feelings by which men are governed are essentially 
the same in every nation, but our own national habits 
and modes of thinking will not lead us to desire that 
our burial-grounds should be so studiously picturesque 
or sO obtrusively fashionable. All that is useful might 
be obtained without this, and all that is graceful and 
beautiful might be supplied. 

Of the five cemeteries, that of Pére la Chaise is the 
most considerable and interesting, and we have there- 
fore selected it for particular description. 

This tract of ground, which is on the north-east of 
the city, extending along the slope of a hill from Belle- 
ville ie Charonne, was, in the fon'y ages of the French 


- © aft) 


person appointed to i a this spot to its new desti- 


nation; and in drawing his plan jhe took care to pre- 
serve whatever could be rendered subservient to the 


1834.] 


us¢ or embellishment of. the new establishment. To 
render access éasy to different poimts, winding paths 
wére formed, a wide paved road was opened to the spot 
where the mansion of Pére la Chaise formerly stood, 
atid cypresses and willows were intermingled with the 
slirubs and the fruit-trees. The cemetery, thus prepared, 
Was consecrated eatly ih 1804; and on the 2lst of May 
in the same year the first corpse was interréd, | 
The advantageous situation of this spot, upon the 
slope of a hill, surrounded by luxuriant valleys and rising 
erounds, with the fine and picturesque view it commands, 
occasioned such a demand for its graves that it has 


been. enlarged until it now comprehends an extent of| 


nearly one hundred acres. Properly, the cemetery of 
Pére la Chaise is the burial-place of only the inhabitants 
of the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, and ninth wards of 
the city; but when a perpetual right in the ground 
for a grave is purchased, remains may be brought from 
any part of the city, or even of the kingdom. This 
privilege has been so extensively used, that the burial- 
gerouid which, by its regular destination, would have 
been principally occupied by the sober citizens of Paris, 
now contains the names of most of the illustrious dead 
of modern France. Hence no Parisian cemetery can 
be compared to this for the number and beauty of its 
monuments. Some of them, of large dimensions and 
elegant architecture; are if the form of temples, sepul- 
chral chapels, funeral vaults, pyramids, and obelisks ; 
while others present piers, columns, altars, urns, and 
tombs, variously formed and ornamented. Many are 
surrounaed by enclosiires of wood or iron, within which 
are planted flowers and shrubs, and near some of them 
benches aré placed fot the accommodation of the friends 
of the deceased and other visiters. A subterranean 
canal, which formerly conveyed water to Mont Louis 
House, stili exists, and furnishes a sufficient supply to 
keep the plants and herbage in perpetual verdure. 
Some families pay an dnnual sum to the gardener for 
cultivating the shrubs and flowers whicli have been 
planted upon the graves of their departed friends. 

It is impossible in this article to give even the 
most brief description of the numerous interesting 
monuments which the cemetery of Pere la Chaise 
exhibits. That of Abelard and Heloisa attracts the 
most attention, from its dimensions and_ beauty. 
Among the names commemorated by monuments are 
those of Laplace, Cuvier, Denon, Volney, and Monge ; 
Fourcroy, the chemist; Bocage and Mentelle, the 
eeocraphiers; Langles, the Orientalist ; Moliere ; 
La Fontaine; the fabulist; St. Pierre, author of 
‘Paul and Virginia; Talma, the actor*; Haiiy, who 
taught the blind to read by means of -characters in 
wood; Sicard, the distinguished instructor of the deaf 
and dumb; Parmentier, to whom France is chiefly 
indebted for the general cultivation of the potato. 
Among military names may be mentioned these of Ney, 
Massena, Davoust, Caulincourt, Lauriston, Foy, La- 
bedoyére. Among political naines, ‘Lallien, who for a 
time swayed the destinies of republican France, and 


* We feel it quite in place here to mention a circumstance which 
was made known to the English public about fifteen years ago, in 
the ‘ Quarterly Review” Many of our readers will remember the 
story of Young’s Narcissa, who died in France. 


“ Denied the charity of dust to spread 
O’er dust! a charity their dogs enjoy ; 
What could I do? what succour ? what resource ? 
With picus sacrilege a grave I stolé,— 
More like her murderer than friend, I crept 
With soft suspended step, and muffled deep 
In midnight darkness whispered my last sigh.” 


What a contrast to this * cursed ungodliness of zeal,” formerly so 
rife 1 France, does the cemetery we are considering exhibit,—in 
which Catholics, Protestants, and Jews are alike interred, and have 
alike their monuments! But our present object is to mention that 
Talma and Madame Petit are stated to have sought for, found, and 
becomingly interred the remains of Narcissa, 


THE PENNY .MAGAZINE, 


271 


Manuel, the parliamentary orator: and, among women, 


Madame Dufresnoy, the ‘Tenth Muse ;? Madame 
Cottin, authoress of the ‘ Exiles of Siberia;’ the beau- 
tiful and accomplished daughter of Cuvier; Madame 
Blanchard, who perished in 1819 by her balloon taking 
fire ; and Mademoiselle Raucourt, the actress, to whose 
Interment in consecrated ground the clergy offered so 
much opposition as nearly to occasion a popular tumult. 

It was stated in 1830 that upwards of 100,000 bodies 
had been interred in the cemetery of Pére la Chaise. 
Of this number, the friends and families of 15,000 had 
erected monuments over their remains, of which 1,500 
were rendered objects of more than ordinary attention 
by some striking peculiarity,—by their neatness or 
magnificence, or from the interest connected with the 
names they commemorate. 

he cemetery is entirely surrounded by walls. The 
gate of the proper cemetery is in the centre of a semi- 
circular recess, decorated on each side with piers and 
funeral ornaments. On the gate is a Latin inscription 
from the Book of Job, xix. 25; on the right is another, 
from John, x. 25; and on the left, one from the Apo- 
crypha, Wisdom, iti. 5. ‘The chapel in the cemetery, for 
funeral ceremonies, is plain:and neat, and receives lie lit 
by a window in the centre of the roof: it is fifty-six 
feet in length by twenty-eight in breadth, and its eleva- 
tion is about fifty-six feet. It is surmounted by a white 
cross, and stands at the extremity of the two principal 
alleys leading from the gate. 

In the cemetery there are three kinds of graves :— 
first, the fosses communes, or ‘* common trenches,” four 
feet and a half deep,.in which the poor are gratuitously 
interred in coffins placed close to each other, without 
any intervening space, but not upon each other. These 


trenches are re-opened every five years, that time being: 
‘considered sufficient for the decomposition of bodies in 


this clayey soil; but the ground of each grave may be 
purchased either for a term of six years or for ever, by 
families, at the time the trenches are about to be re- 
opened, unless it should happen to be in the line of any 
contemplated road. It is not to be concealed that these 
immense common graves are very unpleasant features 
in the Parisian cemeteries, and would hardly be tole- 
rated in this country, even under the ameliorated form 
in which they now appear. ‘Their existence was for- 
bidden by the law of 1804, which prescribed the depth 
and distance of the separate graves in which all bodies 
were to be interred. We cannot learn whether they 
continue by connivance, or whether the law has been 
repealed; they have, however, in their present form, 
probably resulted from the wish of the proprietors to 
perform, with the least possible expense, that condition 
for the gratuitous interment of the poor, in consideration 
of which they were allowed to receive the paymeuts of 
the wealthy. 

‘The second class of graves are the separate temporary 
ones, which, upon the payment of two guineas, are held 
for six years, but then revert to the establishment, even 
though monuments should have been erected over 
them. If, however, individuals wish to prolong thieir 
lease of the spot, they may do so by paying at the rate 
of two guineas for every five years; but if the pay- 
ments are not duly made, the graves are re-opened, and 
the monuments restored to those by whom they were 
erected. It is optional, also, to purchase a perpetual 
rivht in the graves which were at first bought for only 
a limited period: in that case a discount is allowed of 
one of the sums of two euineas each previously paid for 
its temporary possession. 

The third sort of @raves are those in which the per- 
petual right is purchased in the first instance, when 
vaults may be sunk and monuments erected at pleasure, 
Not less than six feet six inches is granted for an adult, 


| ner less than half that extent for a child under seven 


272 


years of age. But families are at liberty to purchase 
as much more as they please; and hence many families 
do possess large spots of ground in the cemetery. The 
price is five guineas for a square metre (of about 39} 
inches), and fifteen shillings for the deed and registra- 
tion of the sale. When a person desires to purchase 
ground, he applies to the keeper of the cemetery, who 
accompanies him to select such an unoccupied spot as | 


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he may please. When a family wishes to construct a 
vault or tomb for the reception of the dead, the corpse 
is meanwhile deposited in a temporary grave, for the 
use of which, upon its removal, the sum of 1d, 3s, 6d. 
is paid; but this removal cannot take place without 
the special permission of the prefect of police, and in 
the presence of a commissary of police, who draws up 
minutes of the transaction. 


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LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGIIT, 22, LUOGATE SYREF'E, 











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Printed by Witntam Clowes, Duke Atrect, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





147.1] 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





[Jury 19, 1834. 





THE BISON. 


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| North American Bison. | 


Tuis remarkable species of ox is peculiar to North 
America. Until of late years, it was very generally con- 
sidered that the domestic ox, the wild bull (wrus) of 
Europe and Asia, and the American bison were only 
varieties of the same species, or, in other words, that 
the domestic ox was the urus altered by civilization, and 
that the bison was the urus altered by climate. This 
was the opinion of Buffon, Pallas, and other distin- 
guished naturalists. The identity of the urus and the 
bison being assumed, it became a question of some- 
what difficult solution how these animals migrated from 
the old to the new world. Many ingenious theories 
were framed to meet the circumstances, but the neces- 
sity for these speculations has been superseded by the 
discovery made by Cuvier, that the bison of America 
is really a species distinct from the urus; and he has 
indicated the very important differences by which the 
distinction is established. 

We may consider the bison as characterized by fifteen 
pair of ribs, (the wild bull has only fourteen,) and by 
the immense disproportion between its fore and hind 
quarters. The latter distinction is partly occasioned by 
the great hump or projection over its shoulders. This 
hump is oblong, diminishing in height as it extends 
backward, and giving a considerable obliquity to the 
outline of the back. The hair over the head, neck, and 
fore part of the body is long and shaggy, forming a 
beard beneath the lower jaw, and descending below the 


Vou. Ill. 


knee in a tuft. ‘The hair on the summit of the head 
rises in a dense mass nearly to the tip of the horns, and 
directly on the front is curled and strongly matted. The 
ponderous head, rendered terrific by its thick shaggy 
hair and streaming beard, is supported upon a massive 
neck and shoulders, the apparent strength of which ts 
more imposing from the augmentation produced by the 
hump and the long fall of hair by which the anterior 
parts of the body are covered. This woolly hair is re- 
markable not less for its fineness than itslength. The 
difference between the winter and the summer coat of 
the bison consists rather in the length than in the other 
qualities of the hair. In summer, from the shoulders 
backward, the surface is covered with very short fine 
hair, smooth and soft as velvet. Except the long hair 
on the fore parts, which is to a certain extent of a rust 
colour or yellowish tinge, the colour is a uniform dun. 
Varieties of colour are so rare among the species, that 
the hunters and Indians always regard any apparent 
difference with great surprise. The tleece or hair of a 
full-grown bison, when separated from the skin, 1s 
usually found to weigh about eight pounds, according to 
Charlevoix. The horns are shorter than in any other 
species, nearly straight, sharp-pointed, exceedingly 
strong, and planted widely asunder at the base, as in 
the common bull. The tail is almost a foot long, and 
terminates in a tuft which is black in the males and red 
in the females. The eyes are large ms —— the 


274 


limbs are of great strength; and the appearance of the 
animal is altogether exceedingly grim, savage, and for- 
midable. According to Hearne, the size of the bison 
is, onthe average, less than that of the urus, but exceeds 
that of every other species of the:ox. It has been known 
to weigh 1600 and even 2400 lbs.; and the strongest 
men are said to be unable, singly, to lift one of the 
skins from the ground. The female is much smaller 
than the male; she has not so much of the lone hair in 
front, and her horns are not so large nor so much covered 
by the hair. ‘The inales and females associate from the 
end of July tothe beginning of September ; after which 
the females separate from the males, and remain in dis- 
tinct herds. ‘They calve in April. ‘Phe calves seldom 
leave the mother unti! they are a year old, and some- 
times the females are seen followed by the young of 
three seasons. 

The bisons generally seek their food in the morning 
and evening, and retire during the heat of the day to 
inarshy places. ‘They rarely resort to the woods, pre- 
ferring the open prairies where the herbage is long and 
thick. ‘They also associate in vast troops led by the 
fiercest and tnost powerful of the bulls. In both these 
respects their habits differ from those of the wrus, 
which leads a‘solitary life in the deepest gloom of thie 
forest. ‘The herds of bisons are frequently of asto- 
nishing density and extent. Mr. James says, that in 
one place at least ten thousand of these fine animals 
burst upon the sight in an instant. He adds, ‘Sin the 
nlorning we again sought the living picture, but upon 
all the plain, which last evening was teeming with noble 
animals, net one reinained.” Notwithstanding their ter- 
rible aspect, the bison is not an enemy of man, and will 
never attack him unless when wouided or at bay. 
During the season in wlich the males and females, asso- 
ciate, and when the passions of the former are in full 
activity, the noise of the roaring of these immense herds 
resembles thunder, and the males often fight most des- 
perate battles with each-other. ie 

While feeding, they are often scattered over a vast 
surface; but when they .move forward in mass, they 
forma dense impenetrable column, which once fairly 
In motion is scarcely to be turned. hey swim large 
rivers nearly in the same order in which they traverse 
the plains; and when flying from pursuit, it 1s In vain 
for those in front to make a sudden halt, as the rear- 
ward throne dash madly forward, and force their 
leaders on: ‘The Iiidians sometimes profit by this habit. 
They lure a herd to the vicinity of a precipice, and 
setting the whole in rapid motion, they ternfy them by 
shouts and other artifices.to rush on to their inevitable 
destruction. 'The chase of the bisons, indeed, consti- 
tutes a favourite diversion of the Indians, numerous 
tribes of whom: may be said to be almost entirely 
dependent on.these animals for all their necessaries of 
life. They are killed either by shooting them, or by 
gradually driving them into a small space by setting 
fire to the grass around the place where the herd is 
feeding. ‘They are much terrified by fire, and crowd 
together to avoid it; and they are then killed by bands 
of Indians without any personal hazard. It is said that, 
on such occasions, 1500 or 2000 have sometiines been 
killed at atime. 

‘Lhe flesh of the bison is coarser grained than that of 
the domestic ox, but is considered by hunters and tra- 
vellers as superior in tenderness and flavour. ‘That of’ 
the males is poor and the flesh disagreeable in the 
months of August and September. ‘They are much 
more easily approached and killed than the females, 
not being so vigilant, but the females are preferred-on 
account of the greater fineness of their skins and more 
tender fiesh. ‘he hump of the bison is highly cele- 
brated for its richness and delicacy, and is said, when 
properly cooked, to resemble marrow. 


“THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


The Indian | 


[J uy 19, 


method of preparing this delicacy is as tollows :—The 
hump is cut off the shoulders, and a piece of skin is 
sewed over the severed part. The hair is then singed 
off, and the whole is ready for the oven. This is a 
hole in the earth, in and-over which a fire has been 
burned; and into this heated receptacle the hump is 
conveyed, and covered, about a foot deep, with earth 
and ashes. A strong fire is again laid over the spot, 
and, supposing these preparations to have beeun on the 
evening of one day, the hump will be ready for eating 
by the next day at noon. ‘The tongue and marrow-bones 
are regarded by the connoisseurs in bisons’ flesh to be 
the parts next in excellence to the hump. The skins of 
the bisons are ofa loose and spongy texture; but when 
dressed in the Indian manner with the hair on, they 
make admirable defences against the cold, and may be 
used for blankets. ‘They are called buffalo robes; the 
term buffalo being generally, but inaccurately, applied 
to the bison. ‘The wool of the bison has been manu- 
factured into hats, and has also been employed in 
making coarse cloth of a very strong and durable tex- 
ture. 

Vast multitudes of bisons are slaughtered every year ; 
and it is to be deeply regretted that the white hunters 
and traders are in the habit of destroying these valuable 
beasts in the most wanton-and unnecessary manner.’ It 
is common for such persons to shoot bisons, eveh when 
they have abundance of food, for the sake of the tongue 
or hump alone; or even for no other reason than be- 
cause they come near enough to present a fair aim. It 
is, therefore, not surprising that, from all these causes 
of diminution, the bisons become less nuinerous every 
year, and remove farther and farther from the haunts of 
men, ‘The numbers of this species still existing ‘are 
surprisingly great, when we consider the immense 
destruction of them since European weapons have been 
employed against them. ‘They were once extensively 
diffused over what is now the territory of the United 
States, except that part lying east of the Hudson’s 
River and the lake Champlain, and narrow strips of 
coast on the Atlantic and Pacific. At the present time 
their range is very different; they are no longer found 
except in the remote unsettled regions of the north and 
west, being rarely seen east of the Mississippi, or south 
of the St. Lawrence.” West of Lake Winnipeg they 
are found as far north as 62°; west of the Rocky 
Mountains it is probable they do not extend north of 
the Columbia river. American authorities assure us 
that the time cannot be far distant when the bisons, like 
the Indian tribes which hover near them, will have 
passed away. 

It is stated in the ‘ Dictionnaire Classique d’Histoire 
Naturelle, on the authority of Raffinesque, that the 
bison is domesticated in the farms of Kentucky and 
of Ohio. It there associates with the domestic cow, 
and the mixed breed have the colour, the head, and the 
shagey front of the bison; but they are destitute of the 
hump, although the back is always sloped. They 
associate indifferently either among themselves or with 
the bisons and domestic cattle, producing new and fruit- 
ful races, The fertility of the cross-breeds does not, 
however, as Buffon imagined, prove the unity of 
species in the original parents, for there is scarcely 
a truth in zoology more evident, than that the bison 
and domestic ox are of species essentially different. 
We do not feel sure, however, that this domestication 
of the bison in Kentucky and Ohio is at present 
practised, though it might well have been so before 
the encroachments of man had driven them into the 
remote regions of the west and north. ‘The ‘ En- 
cyclopedia Americana,’ our obligations to which in — 
preparing this article claim acknowledgement, makes no 
mention of such a practice. 








1834.] 
VEGETABLE ACQUISITIONS. 


THe perusal of some Van Diemen’s Land newspapers has 
lately drawn our attention very stronely to the extent in 
which civilization operates in enlarging the vegetable and 
other produce of a country beyond that which is in- 
digenous to it. dhe state of that colony, with regard 
to its vegetable produce, enables us to perceive at once, 
without the intervention of traditional records, what the con- 
centrated energies of civilization are capable of effecting in 
less than a single generation. In Europe, the prolonged 
period through which these effects have been gradually 
obtained, prevent the full efficacy of the immediate power 
of civilization from being so well apprehended. But it is 
the attribute of civilized man to desire to gather around 
him. the things he has been accustomed to,—the good and 
pleasant things of other lands; and the means which he 
possesses of carrying such a wish into effect has, in the 
short space of thirty years, done for Van Diemen’s Land 
more than, without such advantages, was done in this 
country in sixteen hundred. Nearly all the fruits of 
Kurope had heen successfully introduced there within 
seventeen years from the establishment of the first settle- 
ment at Risdon Cove; and those of this country have 
thrived particularly well. The case is the same with trees, 
shrubs, and flowers, which the colonists have imported 
from this country, many of which, though deciduous here, 
have there become evergreens. They are quite sanguine 
that the same will be the case with the honeysuckle which 
has been recently sent out, and the prosperity of which 
appears* to be a matter of considerable interest in Van 
Diemen’s Land. And now the colonists begin to recipro- 
cate obligations with the mother-country. ‘The ‘ Hobart 
Town Courier’ says, ‘‘ The ‘superintendent of the Govern- 
ment Garden has sent home, in the finest and most healthy 
condition, 141 specimens, comprising sixty species, with 
their Linngzan names attached, of our most beautiful plants 
and shrubs, collected chiefly from Mount Wellington and 
the banks of the Huon river. They are intended for the 
Royal Gardens at Kew; and, as they are mostly of a hardy 
nature, although new to England, we doubt not they will 
thrive, and be generally admired.”” The’ same paper also 
recommends for exportation to this country the three plants 
of the genus Aickea as being well deserving a general trial 
for cultivation in England, as a substitute and variation in 
the hedge-rows which embellish and characterise this 
country, and expresses a conviction that it would thrive 
well and be a most desirable acquisition. Itis very hardy,— 
growing among rocks and poor land in the highest and 
coldest regions of Van Diemen’s Land. It is of quick 
growth, is evergreen, and the leaves being in the form of 
needles, stiff and pointed, make it an excellent and suf- 
ficient fence from man or beast, while the stem is as strong, 
woody, and rigid as the oak or hawthorn. In return for 
this kind interest in our behalf, it seems that Van Diemen’s 
Land only desires that we will send out some of the 
favourite shrubs and flowers, both old and lately introduced, 
that are yet wanting there, such as the daisy, the violet, 
lily of the valley, snow-drop, thrift, myrtle, southernwood, 
guelder-rose, mountain-ash, birch, beech, cedar of Lebanon, 
Jaurustinus, and double-flowering plants in general. During 
the last year, 100,215 quarters of wheat were imported into 
this country from Van Diemen’s Land, being, with one ex- 
ception, the largest quantity imported from any one country. 
Within these few months an indigenous species of wheat is 
stated to have been discovered. Of this discovery the follow- 
ing account has been given in the local papers :—“ Mr. Foster, 


of the Macquarie River, accompanied by his brother and Mr. | 


Bates, has recently completed a tour of the northern and 
eastern coast of the island, exploring the several rivers from 
fifteen to twenty miles up their stream. What we look 
upon as the most interesting result of the journey is the 
discovery of an indigenous species of wheat, which grows in 
various parts near the coast to the north of St. Patrick’s 
Head. It was unfortunately only in bloom when Mr. 
Forster saw it, and no ripe grains could be found from 
which it could be propagated, which, however, will, we hope, 
be the case by some future traveller, who may visit that 
part of the country when the grain is ripe. As this is the 
first of the cereal order of plants that has been found in Van 
Diemen’s Land, its discovery is well deserving a place in the 
annals of the colony—unlike the common sorts of wheat, it 
seems to delight in poor soils, growing luxuriantly in banks 
cf sand and shells.” The cclonists appear to have been no 
yess successful in the naturalization of zoological than vege- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


279 


table specimens. They have all our domestic quadrupeds 
and birds, and are now endeavouring to introduce our game. 
The following paragraph from the papers already quoted 
refers to an attempt of this kind :—“ Mr. Bisdee has lately 
let loose upon his estate of Whitehills, at the Lovely Banks, 
three brace of pheasants, in the hope that they will be 
naturalized and propagate in the island. Persons who may 
accidentally meet with them in travelling through that part 
of the country will therefore, it is hoped, be careful not to 
molest or destroy them, for some years at least, until they 
have gained a footing, and become sufficiently numerous in 
the island. The birds were bred by Mr. Bisdee, te whom 
we consider the colony indebted for the great care and atten- 
tion he has devoted to this desirable acquisition, and which 
have been attended with such success.” 





Self-Advancement.—“ Mr. Ewing, senator from Ohio, in 
the United States, is perhaps the most conspicuous man of 
that state at the present time, unless Judge M‘Lean be an 
exception. Although he has been in Congress but a single 
session, he has acquired a high reputation as a statesman. 
I should think him to be about forty. He is a self-made 
man,—a striking exemplification of what a man can do by 
merely personal effort. He is a native of this state, and 
was born poor. In his youth his principal employment was 
wood-chopping. Being very athletic, he excelled in the 
labours of the axe. At length, when he had grown up to 
early manhood, a desire for education was awakened in his 
mind. He directed his steps to this institution, [what insti- 
tution is not specified,] where he completed his education 
preparatory to the study of the law. In term time he 
chopped wood at the college-door; and in vacation it was 
his custom to swing his axe upon his shoulder and go forth 
in search of a job, which he would accomplish, and return 
with fresh vigour at the commencement of next term. In 
this way he sustained himself while in college, and came 
out with a constitution as vigorous as when he entered. 
And now he is a senator of the United States.’—A merican 
Annals of Education. 


The Magara Whirlpool.—This whirlpool, which is several 
miles below the fall, is one of those scenes which are too 
grand for description. Instances of accidents happening 
there can best convey an idea of the horrors of that dreadful 
abyss. The whirlpool is a large deep basin, in which the 
waters of the mighty St. Lawrence revolve in one perpetual 
whirl, caused by their being obstructed by an angle of the 
steep and dreary banks which overhang this dreadful place. 
The whirlpool, like the falls, has frequently caused the loss 
of human life; one instance of which I will here relate :— 

“Mr. Wallace, the blacksmith, had a son, a fine youth, 
of whom he was exceedingly proud, and the lad one day 
went down to the whirlpool, and the current proving too 
strong for him, he was carried into the whirl. His poor 
distracted mother sat on the gloomy bank hours and 
days, and beheld the body of her own darling child carried 
round in a circle by the waters, sometimes disappearing for 
a time, and then coming up and revolving on the surface of 
his watery grave; and thus continuing for several days, no 
human aid being available even to obtain hisremains. An 
acquaintance, who resides at the whirlpool, informed me, 
that in the course of five or six days, bodies which get into 
this dismal cauldron are carried down the river. It is usual 
for persons rafting timber from places between the falls and 
the whirlpool, to get off the raft before they come to the 
basin, first placing the raft in such a position as may best 
enable it to float down the stream without being carried into 
the whirl. On one occasion, however, one of the raftsmen 
refused to leave the raft—he was not afraid, all would go 
safe—entreaty was unavailing, and the raw, with the un- 
fortunate, headstrong man upon it, made its way cawnwards, 
and was soon drawn within the fatal circle; arouna which, 
for three days and three nights, it continued to revolve; all 
the efforts of a thousand anxious spectators proved unavail- 
ing. The continual and sickening motion he underwent 
robbed the poor sufferer of all power to eat—sleep he could 
not—a dreadful death was before his eyes, so much the more 
terrible that it was protracted night after night in such a 
place. At last a man was found who ventured into the 
whirl as far as he could with hopes of life, a strong rope 
being tied round his middle, one end of which was on shore. 
He carried with him a line to throw to the raft—succeeded ; 
the agonized sufferer fastened it to the raft, and in this way 
he was drawn on shore, and his life preserved.”"—Afen and 
Manners tn America, WN 2 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Juny 19, 


THE ISLAND OF CAPRI. 














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Tuts most picturesque of islands is situated under the 
same meridian as the city of Naples, which it imme- 
diately faces, and from almost every part of which it is 
constantly visible. It is, indeed, one of the finest and 
most striking features of the rich and varied scenery 
which surrounds that capital. It stands at the entrance 
of the Neapolitan Gulf, almost on the line of the hori- 
zon ; it is distant about two miles and a half from Cape 
Campanella, which terminates the bold promontory 
where Sorrento, Amalfi, and other towns of old fame, 
are situated ; it is about twelve miles from Cape Miseno 
on the other side of the bay, and rather more than 
twenty from the city of Naples at the end of the bay. 
It is composed of hard, calcareous rocks, which are dis- 
posed in two picturesque masses with a considerable 
break or hollow between them. The highest of these 
two masses, which is to the west, and is called Ana- 
capri, rises between sixteen and seventeen hundred feet 
above the level of the sea. The whole of the island, 
when seen at a little distance, looks so precipitous and 
inaccessible, that the stranger is disposed to wonder 
how the little towns and white villages he sees on the 
face of its cliffs ever got there. ‘The colour of the 
masses of rock, when not affected by the glow of sun- 
set, is a pale, sober grey. ‘Tracing all the indents and 
sinuosities of the rocks, the circumference of the island 
does not exceed nine miles; yet within this narrow 
space is crowded an astonishing variety of scenic beau- 
ties, remains of antiquity, and historical recollections. 
The entire surface of Capri is wild, broken, and pic- 
tureque. The ancient name of the island was Caprea, 
and it is said it was so called from being inhabited by 
wild goats, According to antiquaries, its first human 
inhabitants were a colony of Greeks from Epirus, who, 
after many ages, were dispossessed by the citizens of 
Neapolis (Naples), which then formed part of Magna 
Grecia, and which, like all the places of note in that 
portion of Italy, owed its origin to the Greeks. The 
Roman Emperor Augustus seems to have taken entire 


possession of the island for himself, and to have given 
the Neapolitan citizens lands in the neighbouring island 
of Ischia as an equivalent. Suetonius, the historian, 
has recorded a visit to Capri made by Augustus at the 
close of his life. With a shattered constitution and 
broken spirits, the world’s master left Rome to find a 
place of quiet rest. Having recruited his spirits a little 
at Astura, on the shores of the Tyrrhenian sea, and near 
the mouth of the Tyber, he coasted Campania Felix, 
and, with a few chosen friends, arrived at Baizw,—the 
Brighton and the Cheltenham united of ancient Rome. 
At Baiw he took shipping for Capree. As his galley 
shot across the Puteelan bay, it was met by a trading 
vessel from Alexandria in Egypt, the crew of which, 
aware of the monarch’s approach, had dressed them- 
selves in white, and crowned their heads with chaplets ; 
and, when he was still nearer to them, they burned 
incense before him, swearing to live for him, and for 
him to navigate the seas. ‘These testimonials of affec- 
tion, or this adulation, cheered for a moment the dying 
emperor. He distributed money among his followers, 
desiring them to spend it in purchasing the Alexan- 
drian merchandize. At Capri, Augustus, determinine 
to forget the cares of government, gave up his whole 
soul to ease and affable intercourse; but this secession 
from toil, and the enjoyment of the tranquillity and 
the balmy atmosphere of the place, and the magical 
scenery around him, could not restore the old and worn- 
out man, who died shortly after at the town of Nola in 
Campania, and almost within sight of the island. 

Capri is, however, much more memorable as being 
the constant retreat for several years of Augustus’s 
successor, the execrable Tiberius. For the honour of 
human nature, itis to be hoped that those who have 
described the hfe and impurities of this systematic 
tyrant and debauchee have in some instances sacrificed 
truth to eloquence and effect ;—but still enough will 
remain to excite our abhorrence, and our regret that 


his name should be associated with so beautiful a spot 


1884.] 


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- ay ect, in the Island of Capri. | 


of earth. Shut up with the infamous ministers of his 
tyranny and lust in this rocky, inaccessible island, 
Tiberius ruled the vast Roman empire. It was here 
he committed or ordered some of the most atrocious of 
his cruelties ;—it was here he wrote the ‘ verbose and 
erand Epistle’ to the Senate at Rome, immortalized 
in its infamy by Juvenal ;—it was here the arbiter of 
the fate of millions trembled in his old age at what 
might be his own destiny, and sat on “ the august rock 
of Capree with a Chaldean band *,”—a band of astro- 
lowers and impostors,—to consult the stars. He here 
built twelve palaces or villas, which were all strongly 
fortified, and erected many other works, the ruins of 
which still bear his name. ‘The poor islanders of the 
present day, indeed, attribute every ancient building or 
fragment found on the island to ‘* Tiberio Cesare,” 
whom they amusingly call *‘ Emperor of Capri, and 
King of Rome.” It is also very amusing to hear how 
they talk traditionally of the tyrant, and of the deeds and 
vices recorded by Tacitus, Suetonius, and Juvenal. 

The sail from Naples to Capri on a fine summer 
evening, when favoured by the vento di terra, or land 
breeze from the main, is one of the most delightful that 
can be imagined. The only accessible point in the 
island is called the Sbarco di Capri, or the landing- 
place. ‘This is below the town of Capri, to which there 
is an ascent by means of a rude Cyclopean flight of 
steps, steep and rugged in the extreme. A few for- 
tifications might render the island altogether in- 
accessible to an enemy, and entitle Capri to the name 
that was commonly given to it during the last war, 
viz. the Little Gibraltar. During a certain part of 
that long struggle, when the French arms had driven 
the king of the ‘wo Sicilies from Naples to Sicily, the 
English held the island for that sovereign. We kept 
possession of it during the whole of the ‘short reign at 
Naples of Joseph Buonaparte ; ; but when he went to 
Spain, and Murat replaced him in Italy, it was attacked 
with an imposing force, and, being most absurdly de- 
fended, it fell into thé hands of the French. 

* Juvenal, Satire X, 


The principal ‘own, or, as it is pompously called, the 

‘** metropolis of Capri,’ stands on a shelving rock 
towards the east of the island. It consists of a group 
of some two or three hundred small but tolerably neat 
houses, five or six churches and chapels, with a confined 
piazza, or square, in the midst. It is surrounded by 
vineyards and orchards, and some small olive-groves 
stand on ledges of the cliffs above it. There is only 
one more town in the island. This is called Anacapri, 
and is situated high up, on a narrow ledge of the 
western mass of rock that goes by the same name. 
The fishermen, sailors, and traders live in the chief 
town, and the lower parts of the island and Anacapri 
are almost solely inhabited by frugal, industrious 
peasants. It is one of the cleanest places that eye can 
behold. Its inhabitants communicate with the other 
town and all the east of the island by means of a 
flight of 538 steps, which zigzags in a curious manner 
down the face of a precipice. On a still loftier pre- 
cipice, in the rear of the town of Anacapri, are the 
picturesque ruins of a castle of the middle ages. 

The villages, if groups of three or four vine-dressers’ 
houses may be s0 called, are nestled here and there in 
little hollows, or are perched on steps in the cliffs, 
chiefly on the eastern half of the island. Wherever it 
has been possible to make them grow, they are sur- 
rounded by trees and vineyards. The persevering 
industry of the islanders is very admirable: by hewing 
out rocks here,—by piling them up to form terraces 
and retain the scanty soil there; by removing the 
earth from places where it was exposed to be washed 
away, and depositing it in well-defended, secure places,’ 
they have covered considerable patches of the northern 
front of Capri with beauty and fertility. The back of 
the island is so precipitous that it is altogether im- 
practicable. The cultivable parts produce most kinds 
of vegetables and fruits, a small quantity of excellent 
oil, and wine in abundance. The wine, which is well 
known to all who have resided at Naples, is of two 
sorts,—Capri rosso and Capri bianco,—or red and white 


Capri. The quality of both is very good, being devoid 


278 


of that volcanic, sulphurous flavour common to most of 
the wines produced near Naples. 

Guails form another important article of export. 
These birds of passage, which come in countless flights 
from the coast of Africa in spring, and return thither- 
ward in autumn, are caught on the island in large nets 
spread out in hollows on the tops of the rocks, through 
which, season after season, the quails are sure to pass. 
In some years, as many as 100,000 of these delicate 
birds, without counting those consumed at home, have 
been sent to the Neapolitan market. Capri, which is 
now united to the see of Sorrento, once had a bishop of 
its own; and,in former days, that dignitary’s revenue 
was derived almost entirely from the trade in quails. 


In 1826 the whole population of the island amounted » 


to about 4000 souls. There were two or three schools 
established by government. The people seemed very 
healthy, contented, and cheerful; free and equal in 
their intercourse with one another; and, like most 
islanders, much attached to the place of their birth. 
None of them could be called rich, even according to 
the low scale of that part of the world, but then very 
few were abjectly poor. Like the inhabitants of the 
contiguous peninsula, the Sorrentini, the Amalfitani, 
&c., the people of Capri invariably leave an agreeable 
recollection in the mind of the traveller. 

The bold, perpendicular cliff at the eastern extremity 
of the island, which is correctly represented in our en- 
graving, is the too celebrated Saltus Caprearum, over 
which, if history speaks truly, Tiberius was accustomed 
to have his ‘tortured victims driven. The cliff still 
retains its name, Italianized, the islanders always calling 
it “‘ I] Salto,” or the leap. It rises seven hundred feet 
above the level of the sea. Not far from the brow of 
this cliff are very considerable remains of the Villa 
Jovis, one of the tyrant’s twelve mansions, which all 
stood on this half of the island. The guides assure the 
stranger that some arched subterranean chambers, com- 
municating with one another, that are found here, were 
the torturing dungeons of Tiberius. A fine mosaic 
pavement, some columns of gvallo antico, a Greek 
statue of a nymph, with many cameos and intaglios, 
were found at the Villa Jovis many years since. Indeed, 
this small island and these Tiberian villas, of which we 
need not give a minute description, as little remains of 
them but sub-structures and dismal cells, have con- 
tributed largely to modern museums, churches, and 
palaces. The four magnificent columns of giallo antico 
——and all of one piece—that now decorate the chapel of 
the King of Naples in the palace of Caserta were dug up 
in one of the villas. A splendid mosaic, which Murat’s 
wife, Caroline Buonaparte, caused to be removed and 
laid down as a flooring to her own boudoir in the palace 
at Portici, was found in another ; and each of the villas, 
from amidst their crumbling ruins, have furnished rosso, 
giallo, and verde antico,—lapis lazuli, other beautiful 
stones, and a peculiar sort of marble called Tiberian, in 
wonderful profusion. Statues and busts in marble and 
bronze, and of exquisite workmanship—medals and 
bassi-rilievi, and other objects of art, have also been 
found and carried away in great quantities during the 
course of centuries. The mosaics and Corinthian 
capitals of the Tiberian villas are especially considered 
2s models of perfection of their kind. All these twelve 
magnificent villas were included in a space, the cir- 
cumference of which does not exceed four miles. The 
wealth of the emperor was employed for years in erecting 
and adorning them. 

Since the writer of this short notice was last at 
Capri, the very curious cavern represented in the en- 
gravinge’) has been accidentally discovered. Our de- 
scription of it is taken from the last edition of Mrs. 
Starke’s ‘Guide to Travellers.’ The original drawing, 
male on the spot, from which our engraving is copied, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





[Jury 19, 


represents the water in the cavern and the stalactites 
on its roof as being tinged with the most exquisite 
blue. Hence its Italian name of “ Caverna, or Groita 
Azurra,” or ** Caverna Bli ”’—the Blue Cavern. 

“A low-pitched and narrow aperture in the rocks 
west of the usual landing-place at Capri, and about one 
mile and a half distant from it, leads into an immense 
circular cavern, recently discovered—well worth notice, 
and distinguished by the name of ‘ La Grotta Agurra.’ 
Persons who visit this sapphire cell are obliged to place 
themselves horizontally in the little bark destined to 
convey them through the above low and narrow aper- 
ture, which is so small as to excite an alarm of finding 
darkness within; but, on the contrary, if the day be 
cloudless, all is light—light that would dazzle were it 
not blue. ‘The colour of the water which fills the cavern 
precisely resembles that of the large bottles of vitriol, 
with lamps behind them, seen at chemists’ windows in 
England ; and this water appears to act like the lens 
of a telescope, by conducting the rays of the sun and 
the reflection of the brilliant skies of Magna Grecia 
into the cavern. After the eye has been for a few 
moments accustomed to a light so magical, the stupen- 
dous vaults of this gigantic bath are discernible, richly 
studded with stalactites, and assuming, in consequence 
of astrong reflection from the transparent blue water, 
exactly the same tint. The cavern contains broken 
steps leading to a subterraneous passage, the length of 
which is unknown, it being impossible to reach the end, 
owing to an inipediment formed by earih and stones. 
Masonry seems to have been employed in the construc- 
tion of the steps and passage, which probably com- 
municated either with one of 'Tiberius’s villas or that of 
Julia, the niece of Augustus; but the cavern, although 
it may have been used as a bathing-place, is evidently : 
the work of nature,” 





THE BOBBIN-NET MANUFACTURE. 


It has seldom happened that the growth of any consi- 
derable manufacture has been so rapid that an account 
could be given of its rise and progress, while the cir- 
cumstances attending it have been so recent as to be 
within the personal knowledge of the narrator. 'The 
slow progress generally made towards the perfection 
of such arts may be easily accounted for. ‘The inventor 
who strives to introduce a new object into use or con- 
sumption, must, in many cases, create the want which 
he offers to g.atify, and must awaken the world toa 
sense of the desirableness or usefulness of the article 
which he produces. It very often happens, too, that 
some previously-existing branch of industry, of which 
he must necessarily avail himself for carrying forward 
his processes, is not in a sufficiently forward state to 
afford the full measure of assistance, which, by after ’ 
improvements, it is rendered “capable of yielding. 
There are, indeed, many inventions which have been 
lost to the world for a time, and some may even have 
been altogether consigned to oblivion, for want of that 
indispensable degree of assistance. ‘The combinations 
of machinery necessary for the production of Mr. Bab- 
bage’s calculating machine might have been conceived 
a century or more ago, since the powers of the human 
mind were then as great for purposes of invention as 
they now are, and it cannot be said that the conceptions 
which have perfected that extraordinary work were 
awakened by any previous discoveries or inventions of 
other mechanics or philosophers. But this machine 
would, at that time, have been invented in vain, and 
must have remained a fruitless conception in the mind 
of its author, since the mechanical skill required for its 
completion, and even the tools necessary for that pur- 
pose, did not then exist. 

The disadvantageous circumstances here enumerated’ 


1834.} 


have not stood in the way of the manufacture of which 
we are about to give a short notice. The desire of 
possessing and using bobbin-net lace had been long 
before created. Thread and silk lace, for which it has 
become so extensively a substitute, is a very ancient 
manufacture, and, although from the tedious and com- 
plicated nature of the processes by which it was made, 
the use of lace was confined to the wealthy, yet that 
very circumstance may have imparted to it a factitious 
value, and engendered a stronger desire for its posses- 
sion than would otherwise have been felt by the more 
humerous classes. The great improvements effected in 
the art of spinning cotton had already furnished the 
material of a quality adapted to the purpose, and all 
that was wanted for the production of a fabric generally 
acceptable was the possession of a machine by which 
the labour employed might be economized, atid the 
price of the manufacture brought within the compass 
of a larger class. 

The invention of the stocking-frame dates from the 
close of the sixteenth century. About one hundred and 
fifty years after that frame was invented, it was dis- 
covered, by mere accident, that by applying to it another 
machine as an appendage, and which was called’ the 
‘ tickler machine,” the stocking-loops could be re- 
moved in certain aud various directions, so- that the 
work assumed somewhat the appearance of: lace. . The 
net thus produced was, however, deficient in . this 
essential point, that, when unstiffened, it no longer 
retained the appearance of lace. Notwithstanding this 
defect, upwards of 20,000 persons were at one time 
employed in making this net and in ornamenting it 
with embroidery. 3 ; 

This partial success appears to have acted as a sti- 
mulus, and, about the year 1770, many attempts were 
made to contrive machinery that should more closely 
imitate the lace made by hand, by twisting and tra- 
versing the threads round each other. A machine was 
at this time brought from Switzerland, and various 
attempts were made to improve it so as to produce a 
sort of plat; but this was found to be a slow and im- 
perfect process, and was soon abandoned. Numerous 
attempts were then made to produce a more perfect 
mechanism. Winding bobbins with teeth and rolling 
in other rock-teeth,—threads wound upon wire,—tier 
upon tier of hooks,—revolving wheels on slides,—and 
hundreds of other plans, were attempted. By some of 
these the bobbin-mesh was indeed produced, yet the 
slowness of the operation, and still more the want of 
accuracy in the working, prevented the adoption of any 
one of those inventions. 

Yn this state of things, accident again proved a pow- 
erful auxiliary. A workman of Nottingham, employed 
in making machinery for producing fishing-nets, seized 
upon a hint furnished by a child at play, and disco- 
vered by that means a mode of forming the bobbin and 
carriage now used in the bobbin-net machine. The 
inveution was applied in the first instance to the pro- 
duction of fishing-nets, and many abortive attenipts 
were made before the principle thus discovered could 
be apphed to the manufacture of bobbin-net lace. It 
was not until the year 1809 that the first successful 
machine for this purpose was perfected. 

It has generally happened that machines, when 
newly contrived, have been complex in their arrange- 
ments, and that the improvements, of which from time 
to time they have been the objects, have consisted in 
sinphfication, and in the removal of parts which, 
through the modification of the remainder, are seen to 
be redundant. The first bobbin-net machine was ex- 
tremely complicated in its contrivance, and for this 
reason slow in its operation. It had twenty-four 
motions to the series for twisting the mesh, and four 
other motions were required to securé the twist from 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


279 


unravelling, The right to this invention was secured 
by patent, and proved to be a most successful specula- 
tion to those who embarked in it. Before the fourteen 
years for which the patent was granted had expired, 
the machine had been so far simplified as to require 
only thirteen instead of twenty-four motions for com- 
pleting the mesh, and culy two instead of the four mo- 
tions that had been necessary to secure the twist ; and 
since the invention has become the property of the public 
by the expiring of the patent, so much ingenuity has 
been brought to bear upon the construction of the 
machine, that only six motions are now needed for the 
production of the mesh, and the two motions then 
needed for securing the work are now performed simul- 
taneously with the other six. By these means the 
speed of the machines has been increased twelve-fold, 
and, in consequence of the greater simplicity of the 
working, it has been found practicable to propel them 
by steam and water power. The net produced in the 
original machines was necessarily limited in its width 
to one yard and a half, but many frames are now in 
use which make net four yards wide. 

It has also been found possible, by the aid of machi- 
nery, to work various ornaments into the net, and 
means have also been discovered for working the net 
into slips of various widths,—the original machine 
having been capable of producing only one plain broad 
piece. The simplification of the machinery has of 
course occasioned a reduction in the cost of producing 
the manufacture; but the profits of the possessors of 
the patent must, notwithstanding, have been ample, 
since they were enabled to take advantage of the desire 
of the public to purchase their fabric to such a degree 
as to sell for five guineas that which may now be pur- 
chased for half-a-crown !—a fact which will not be 
thought so extraordinary when it is known that more 
than one-half of the bobbin-net lace, now made, is sold 
by the manufacturers as low as one shilling for a square 
yard, the highest price of plain net of the best quality 
being only eighteenpence per square yard: ornamented 
goods are of course sold higher. 

We are induced to add a few particulars to the fore- 
going sketch, in order to show the importance of this 
manufacture in a national point of view. The state- 
ments may be relied on as substantially correct, having 
been drawn out by a gentleman intimately acquainted 
with every part of tlhe manufacture, and approved by 
other persons equally capable of judging as to their 
correctness. 

The population of Nottingham, Lenton, Beeston, 
Radford, Barford, Arnold, and Snenton, when the 
bobbin-net manufacture was commenced, in 1811, 
amounted to 47,300; at the last ccnsus (in 1831) it 
was rather above 80,000. It is computed that the 
number of persons, including children, employed in 
spinning and doubling the yarn used for this manu- 
facture, is 13,000. Of men, women, and children, em- 
ployed in power net-making, there are 3000. In hand- 
machine making, nearly all of whom are men, 5000. 
In winding, which is done by children at their homes, 
4000. In mending, done by women and children at 
home, 6000. ‘Total, 31,000. It is further computed 
that 100,000 women and children obtain a living, or at 
least assist toward their maintenance, by embroidering 
bobbin-net lace. This is a principal employment in 
almost every village for a considerable distance round 
Nottingham ; and it is also followed, to a large extent, 
in the counties of Devon, Somerset, and Norfolk, as 
well as in Glasgow, in London, and in some parts of 
Ireland. The number here mentioned is, however, 
probably overstated. 

The annual consumption of raw cotton, for this manu- 
facture, is stated to be about 2,400,000 lbs. weight, the 
value of which, including the labour bestowed upon if 


230 


for its conversion into yarn suited to the manufacture, 
is 635,000. A small quantity of silk is also used 
annually, and the value of this, when it comes from the 
throwing mills, is stated at 10,0007. From these 
materials are produced :— 





Yards. $..d, £, 
5,645,000 of hand-lever quilling net, at 1 3 per sq. yd. 352,815 
2,207,000 hand-circular quilling net, _,, 137,935 
6,622,000 hand-circular plain net, 1 6 496,650 
4,580,000 | hand-rotary plain net, 1 0 229,000 

10,905,000 power plain net, :, 945,250 
562,000 fancy net, 2 6 70,250 
250,000 — silk net, 1 6 18,750 

30,771,000 square yards, of the value of ‘ » £1,850,650 


About three-fourths of these quantities are annually 
exported, and chiefly in the plain state. T’he Americans 
are large customers; a good deal is sent to the north 
of Europe, and more considerable quantities to Bel- 
gium, whence, it is said, a large proportion is smuggled 
across the frontier into France. 

The fixed capital embarked in this branch of in- 
dustry, within the kingdom, is computed at very little 
short of two millions, including the present value of 
five thousand machines of various sizes now at work. 
A large proportion of these machines having been con- 
structed without the recent improvements, their ex- 
changeable value has been so far reduced by the less 
expensive and more efficient ones now made, that what 
has cost the original owners nearly two millions cannot 
now be estimated at more than 200,000/.  Eneht 
inacliines, which cost 50002. in 1825, were sold in 1833 
for 300/. Five hundred machines of the best con- 
struction, costing 100,000/., have been made and put 
to work in 1832 and 1833. It affords a strong proof 
that the manufacture is still progressively increasing, 
that, notwithstanding this rapid addition of, improved 
machinery, the old contrivances continue to be em- 
pioyed. ‘Phere are not any old machines, in a sufficient 
state of repair to be capable of producing good work, 
which are now standing idle. Their saleable value is 
reduced, both because the more simple machines of 
modern make may be put together for one-third their 
cost, and because these latter can be worked more 
profitably, and require a less application of labour for 
the production of an equal effect.” 

Within the last ten years, the bobbin-net manufac- 
ture has been undertaken on the Continent. It was 
computed that, in August, 1833, there were 1850 
machines in use there, producing at the rate of about 
10,000,000 yards of net annually. Seven-eighths of 
this quantity is produced in France; Calais being the 
principal seat of the manufacture in that country, and 
employing more than 700 machines. For keeping 
these employed, the owners have hitherto been obliged 
to use yarns smuggled from England,—the French 
spinners being unable to produce fine yarn strong 
enough to bear the action of the machines, or suffi- 
ciently regular in its size to make good net. The 
importation of these fine yarns into France has very 
recently been legalized, (by an ordonnance, dated the 
Ath of June,) upon payment of a duty of 7 francs per 
kilogramine,—about 2s, 10d. per Ib. 


George Heriot.—This name was hardly known in the 
southern portion of the island, until Heriot became a pro- 
minent character in ‘ The Fortunes of Nigel.’ In the notes 
to the late edition of that work we are informed, that George 
was the son of a goldsmith in Edinburgh, and pursued his 
father’s occupation, which was then particularly lucrative, 
and much connected with that of a money-broker. He 
enjoyed the favour and protection of King James, as well 
as that of his consort, Anne of Denmark. He became the 


goldsmith to the king and the jeweller to the queen, whose | 


account with him for a space of ten years amounted to 
neariy 40,0002, On the accession of James to the crown of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


(Jury 19, 1834. 


England, Heriot followed his royal master to London, and 
died there on the 12th of February, 1624, at the age of 
sixty-one years. He had been married twice; but both his 
wives died before him, and left him childless. Therefore, 
after making full provision for such of lis relations as might 
have claims upon him, he left the residue of his fortune, 
which was very large for that period, to establish an hos- 
pital for tle maintenance and education of indigent chil- 
dren, the sons of burgesses and freemen of Edinburgh. 
The number depends on the state of the funds, conjointly 
with the applications for admission. At first only 39 were 
received, in the year 1659; in 1735, there were 130; in 
1778, 110; but, in July, 1814, there were no less than 175. 
The average expense of maintaining each, including the 
necessary expenditure of the institution, 1s about 48/. yearly. 
When youths leave the hospital to follow trades, 50/. is paid 
as an apprentice-fee for them; and those attending an 
university with a view of preparing themselves for learned 
professions, are allowed a bounty of 120/. Thus there is 
much liberality practised to promote their welfare. The 
funds of the hospital are ample; and, as a large proportion 
is from land in the immediate vicinity of Edinburgh, they 
have increased wonderfully of late, and are likely to aug- 
ment still further. At present, the annual revenue is com- 
puted at 85007. The hospital in which this charity is 
maintained is a noble quadrangle of the Gothic order, and 
as ornamental to the city as a building, as the manner in 
which the youth are provided for and educated renders it 
useful to the community as an institution. The intentions 
of the founder were not carried into effect, by the completion 
of the edifice, until 1650, at an expense of 30,000/.,—a very 
large sum at that period. Instead of being then applied 
to its origimal purpose, Oliver Cromwell, having taken pos- 
session of the city, converted the building into a military 
hospital; but General Monk, several years after, in 1659, 
withdrew his troops, at the request of the managers, and 
left it to its original destination. 


Suspension Bridges of the Himalaya.—“ At some con- 
venient spot, where the river is rather narrow, and the rocks 
on either side overhang the stream, a stout beam of wood is 
fixed horizontally upon or behind two strong stakes, that are 
driven into the banks on each side of the water; and round 
these beams ropes are strained, extending from the one to 
the other across the river, and they are hauled tight and 
kept in their place by a sort of windlass. The rope used in 
forming the bridge is generally from two to three inches in 
circumference, and at least nine or ten times crossed to make 
it secure. This collection of ropes is traversed by a block of 
wood, hollowed into a semicircular groove large enough to 
slide easily along it; and around this block ropes are sus- 


| pended, forming a loop in which passengers seat themselves, 


clasping its upper parts with their hands to keep themselves 
steady ; a line fixed to the wooden block at each end, and 
extending to each bank, serves to haul it and the passenger 
attached to it from one side of the river to the other. 
“The j’hoola (as the bridge is called) at Rhampore was 
somewhat formidable, for the river tumbles beneath in a 
very awful way; and the ropes, though they decline in the 
centre to the water, are elevated from thirty to forty feet 
above it: the span is from ninety to a hundred yards. It 
was amusing enough to see several of our low-country at- 
tendants arming themselves with courage to venture on this 
novel mode of transit; and I must confess that, although it 
was evident that the actual danger was small, it was not with- 
out certain uncomfortable feelings that I first launched out 
on the machine to cross the Sutlej. We found, however, 
that accidents sometimes occur; and it was scarcely twelve 


‘months since a Brahmin, who had come from Cooloo, having 


loaded the ropes with too great a weight of his goods, and 
accompanied them himse?f, fell into the stream, was hurried 
away, and dashed to pieces.”—Frazer's Tour through Part 
of the Snowy Range of the Himalaya Mountains. 


———_ 





*.° The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge Is at 
59, Lincoln’s-Inn Fields, 


LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 





Printed by Wititram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZ 





OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Jury 26, 1834. 





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[Pimento or Allspice-Tree. J 


282 


Tre tree that produces the condiment which we.call 
Allspice is a West Indian species of myrtle, which 
ig also called the Pimento. It grows to the height 
of from twenty to thirty feet, and has somewhat 
oval leaves, of a deep shining green colour, and 
numerous branches of small white flowers, each with 
four white petals. The thick and dark-green foliage, 
relieved by an exuberance of white and nchly-aromatic 
flowers, renders its appearance very striking ; and there 
is scarcely, in the vegetable world, any tree more beau- 
tiful than a young pimento-tree about the month of 
July. That, with the preceding and following months, 
forms.the period of its being in flower, the commence- 
ment of which varies with the local situation of the tree 
and the difference of the season for rain. After it 
flowers the fruit soon ripens, and it is observed that 
this takes place the soonest in clear open grounds, 

The pimento-trees grow spontaneously, and in great 
abundance, in many parts of Jamaica, particularly on 
the northern side of that island, in elevated spots near 
the coast; but they cannot be propagated without great 
difficulty. The usual method of making a new pimento 
walk, or plantation, is to appropriate for this purpose 
a piece of woody ground, in the neighbourhood of an 
already existing plantation, or in a part of the country 
where the, scattered trees are found in a native state, 
All other trees are then cut down, but the timber 1s 
allowed to remain and decay where it falls. Ina year or 
two, young pimento plants are found to spring up in all 


parts of the land, supposed to have been produced from 


berries dropped there by birds, which eagerly devour 
them. The tree begins to bear fruit in three years 
after it is planted, but it does not arrive at maturity 
until seven. At that age it often yields its fruit at the 
rate of one thousand pounds weight from an acre; and, 
in favourable seasons, a single tree has been known to 
yield one hundred and fifty pounds of the raw fruit, or 
one hundred weight of the dried spice; there being, 
commonly, a loss of one-third in curing. 

About the month of September, and not long after 
the blossoms have fallen, the berries are in a fit state to 
be gathered. They are not then, indeed, quite ripe, but 
they have attained their full size, which is generally 
about that of a peppercorn. They are gathered by the 
hand, and one labourer in a tree will strip them off so 
quickly as to employ three below in picking them up; 
and an industrious picker will fill a bag of seventy 
pounds weight in a day. After they have been care- 
fully cleared of leaves, small twigs, and ripe berries, 
they are spread thinly on cloths, laid over terraced 
floors, raised a little above the ground, inclosed with an 
upright ledge of eight or ten inches in height, and 
divided by transverse partitions into four or more square 
compartments, that each may contain a day’s gathering, 
During the first and second days they are turned often, 
that the whole may be more exposed to the sun; but 
when they begin to dry they are frequently winnowed, 
and laid in cloths to preserve them better from rain and 
dews, still exposing them to the sun every day,.and re- 
moving them under cover every evening until they are 
sufficiently dried. The drying process, which usually 
takes about twelve days, changes the green colour to a 
deep reddish-brown, by which, and the rattling of thie 
seeds within the berries, the operation is known to be 
completed :—they.-are then packed in bags or hogs- 


heads for the market. “When the berry is allowed to’ 


become quite ripe it is of a dark-purple colour, and 
filled with a sweet pulp. 

In its smell and flavour pimento is 
semble a mixture of cinnamon, nutmegs, and cloves, 
whence it obtained the name of aill-spice. Its use in 
cookery is well known. 
as an agreeable aromatic, and it forms the -basis of. a 


distilled water, a spirit, and an essential oil. When the | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


thought to fe-: 


It is also employed in. medicine. 


[ J upaee, 


leaves of the pimento are bruised they emit a fine 
aromatic odour, as powerful as that of the fruit; and, 
by distillation, they yield an odoriferous oil, which is 
not unfrequently used in medicinal preparations instead 
of the oil of cloves. ‘The tree was introduced into this 
country in the early part of the last century, but the 
fruit does not ripen. It is delicate and difficult to 
manage; requiring, at the same time, warmth and a 
ereat deal of air. 





LIFE OF AN INDIAN CHIEF. 


A Boox has lately been publ’shed at Boston, in the 
United States of North America, which purports to be 
the Life of an Indian Chief with the unpronounceable 
name of Ma-ka-tai-me-she-kia-kiak, which signifies 
‘Black Hawk. The work was dictated by the chief 
to Mr. Leclair, the United States’ interpreter for the 
Indian tribes of Sacs and Foxes. It appears that 
‘Black Hawk’ is well known in the United States; 
and the ‘ American Quarterly Review,’ from the last 
Number of which our knowledge of the book is ob- 
tained, considers it so well authenticated that it feels 
compelled to take the genuineness of the work for 
granted. It is there stated to be a production of con- 
siderable curiosity and interest, not only from the 
narrative it gives, but as being, it is believed, the first 
published production of an American Indian. There 
have been orations in abundance, but no connected 
or continued narrative before, 

-Mr. Leclair’s statement is, that Black Hawk (we | 
shall call him by his shorter name) called upon him 
and expressed a desire to have his life written and pub- 
lished; that, in accordance with his request, he acted as 
his interpreter, and was particularly careful to under- 
stand the old chief’s narrative throughout; and that he 
examined the work carefully after its completion, and 
pronounced it strictly correct in all its particulars. The 
motive for such an undertaking is thus deseribed by 
Black Hawk himself :—‘“‘ The changes of many summers 
have brought old age upon me,—and I cannot survive 
many moons. Before I set out on my journey to the 
land of my fathers, I have determined to give my 
motives and reasons for my formey hostilities to the 
whites, and to vindicate my character from misrepre- 
sentation.” 

Black Hawk belongs to a tribe of Indians called the 
Sacs. The original site of this tribe seems to have 
been in the neighbourhood of Montreal, from whence, 
by the combination of different hostile bands, they 
were gradually driven westward, until, after many 
wanderings, they finally settled on the Rock River, 
where they built their village, first expelling the Kas- 
kas-kias from the country. Im this settlement our 
chief was born in the year 1767, being a great-grand- 
son of the chief Na-na-ma-kee, or ‘Thunder, in whose 
time the white men first appeared. Nothing worthy of 
note transpired in the life of Black Hawk until he had 
attained the age of fifteen, when, having wounded an 
enemy, he was placed m the rank of the warriors, ‘The 
events of his youthful career, as related in the book, 
illustrate the lives of young Indian chiefs in general. 
Feats of slaughter are related with all the coolness 
and apparent pleasure. which those who are led to 
regard them as commendable actions would naturally 
feel. ' 

The circumstances of the earlier portion of Black 
Hawk’s life are hurried over by himself or omitted 
by his reviewer, and the narrative is taken up in detail 
at the period «when the circumstances occurred which 
ultimately led to what will probably be the last regular 
conflict between the civilized and savage men of North 
America. : In order not:to impair the peculiarity and 
force of the narrative of events and feelings, we shall 


1834.| THE PENNY 
endeavour, by careful condensation, to allow the chief 
to continue his narrative in the first person, so far as 1t 
can be rendered convenient. The difference betwcen 
the Indians and the United States seems to have 
originated in a treaty by which, in 1804, a cession of 
territory was made by the former to the latter. The 
affair is thus described by Black Hawk :— 

‘Some moons after the young chief (Lieutenant Pike) 
descended the Mississippi, one of our people killed an 
American, and was confined in the prison at St. Louis 
for the offence. We held a council at our village to 
see what could be done for him, and it was determined 
that Qudsh-qua-me, Pa-she-pa-ho, Ou-che-qua-ka, and 
Ha-she-quar-hi-qua, should go down to St. Louis, see 
our American father *, and do all that they could to have 
our friend released, by paying: for the person killed— 
this covering the blood and satisfying the relations of 
the man murdered. This is the only means with us of 
savine a’ person who has killed another, and we then 
thought it was the same way with the whites. The 
party remained a long time absent. ‘hey at length 
returned and encamped at ashort distance below the 
village, but did not come up that day, nor did any 
person approach their camp. ‘They appeared to be 
dressed in fine coats and had medals. F'rom these 
circumstances we were in hopes that they brought good 
news. Early next morming the council-lodge was 
crowded. Quash-qua-me and party came up and gave 
us the following account of their mission. On their 
arrival at St. Louis they met their American father, 
and explained to him their business and urged the 
release of their friend. ‘The American chief told them 
he wanted land, and they agreed to give him some on 
the west side of the Mississippi, and some on the Illi- 
nois side, opposite the Jeffreon. When the business was 
all arranged, they expected to have their friend released 
to come home with them ; but about the time they were 
ready to start, their friend was let out of prison, ran to 
a short distance, and was shot dead. This was all 
they could recollect of what was said and done. They 
had been drunk the greater part of the time they were 
at St. Louis. This is all myself or nation knew of the 
treaty of 1804, It has been explained to me since, 
that by that treaty all our country, east of the Missis- 
sippi and south of the Jeffreon, was ceded to the United 
States for 1000 dollars a year. I could say much 
about this treaty, but I will not at this time. It has 
been the origin of all our difficulties.” 

The Sacs were of opinion that they had been deceived 
into this treaty, and they strongly objected to its validity 
on the ground that it was not made in the presence of 
the assembled nation, but concluded with individuals 
who had not the authority of the whole tribe for what 
they did. Black Hawk exclaims im bitterness of 
heart, “‘ Why did the Great Spirit ever send the whites 
to this land to drive us from our homes, and introduce 
among: us poisonous liquors, disease, and death? They 
should have remained in the land where the Great Spint 
first placed them.” He also takes occasion .to express 
a strong and peculiar opinion on the general subject. 
‘¢ My reason teaches me that land cannot be sold. ‘The 
Great Spirit gave it to his children to live upon and 
cultivate, 4s far as is necessary for their subsistence ; 
and so long as they occupy and cultivate it, they have 
the right to the soil. But if they voluntarily leave it, 
then any other people have the right to settle upon it. 
Nothing can be sold but such things as can he carried 
away.” 

‘he resentment of the Sacs at this transaction, in 
which they considered that they had been unfairly dealt 
with, appears to have induced them the more readily 
to join with the British in the war of 1812. Previously 


“ It seems that the “ American Father ” is the local governor, 
and the Great Father”’ is the President of the United States. 


return the next day by sunrise: 


MAGAZINE, 283 
to this, however, some of the chiefs and head men had 
been invited to Washington, where the Great Father 
advised them to remain neutral in the approaching 


contest, and assured them that an American trader | 


should supply them with such goods as they needed, 
and aflord them the same credits as the British traders 
usually did. ‘ We all agreed,” says Black Hawk, “ to 
follow our Great Father’s advice and not interfere with 
the war. Our women were much pleased at this eood 
news. Everything went on cheerfully in our village. 
We resumed our pastimes of playing ball, horse-raciug, 
aud dancing, which had been laid aside when the war 
was first talked about.” When the trader came, how- 
ever, they were greatly distressed to find that he would 
give them no credit, and had received no instructions 
on the subject. ‘‘ Few of us slept that night—-all was 
gloom and discontent. In the morning a canoe was 
seen descending the river,—it soon arrived, bearing an 
express which brought intelligence that La Gutrie, a 
British trader, had landed at Rock Island with two 
hoats loaded with goods, and requested us to come up 
immediately, because he had good news for us and 
a variety of presents. ‘The express presented us with 
tobacco, pipes, and wampum. The news ran through 
our camp like fire in the prairie. Our lodges were 
soon taken down, and all started for Rock Island. 
Here ended all hope of our remaining at peace,— 
having been forced into war by being deceived.” It 
appears to have been during the connexion of the Sacs 
with the British, that the following touching incident 
occurred :— 

“One of our people having killed a Frenchman at 
Prairie du Chien, the British took him prisoner, and 
said they would shoot him the next day. His family 
were encamped at a short distance below tlie mouth of 
the Ouis-consin. He begged for permission to go and 
see them that night, as he was to die the next day. 
They permitted him to go, after he had promised to 
He visited his family, 
which consisted of a wife and six children. I cannot 
describe the meeting and the parting so as to be under- 
stood by the whites. He parted from his wife and 
children, hurried through the prairie to the fort, and 
arrived in time. ‘The soldiers were ready, and imme- 
diately marched out and shot him down. I visited his 
family, and by hunting and fishing provided for them 
until they reached their relations.” 

Some of the incidents of the war, as related by Black 
Hawk, are interesting ; and when peace was restored, 
he says, “‘ I now determined to remain with my family, 
and hunt for them; and humble myself before the 
Great Spirit, and return thanks to him for preserving 
me through the war.” But the whites soon began to 
settle the country, and continual disputes occurred 
between them and the Indians. The latter were re- 
peatedly required by the government to remove to the 
other side of the Mississippi, but the requisition ‘met 
with no attention, for the reasons we have explained. 
Black Hawk expatiates with energy on the beauty of 
the village, and the excellence of the grounds the Sacs 
were required to leave; and thns concludes his descrip- 
tion :—‘“* We always had plenty,—our children never 
cried with hunger, and our people were never in want. 
At that time we had little intercourse with the whites, 
except our traders. Our village was healthy, and there 
was no place in the country possessing such advantages, 
or any hunting-grounds better than those we had im 
possession. If another prophet had come to our village 
in those days, and told us what has since taken place, 
we would uot have believed him, What! be driven 
from our village, and not even permitted to visit the 
eraves of our forefathers, relations, and friends! ‘Phis 
hardship is not known to the whites, With us it is 
the custom to visit the graves of our friends, and keep 


204 


a 


284 


them in repair for mauy years. The mother will go 
alone to weep over the grave of her child. ‘he warrior 
with pleasure visits the grave of his father, after he has 
been successful. in war, and re-paints the post that 
shows where he lies. There is no place like that where 
the bones of our fathers lie to go to when in grief. 
But how ditferent is our situation now from what it 
was in those days! ‘Then we were as happy as the 
buffalo on the plains,—but now we are as miserable as 
the hungry howling wolf in the prairie.” 

It may elucidate the preceding statements to explain, 
briefly, the mode of life among these Indians. In the 
fall they were accustomed to start for their wintering- 
grounds, where they dispersed in small parties to make 
their hunt. With the skins and other proceeds of their 
enterprise they resorted to the establishment of their 
trader, where they amused themselves at different 
pastimes until near the close of the winter. Some of 
them made excursions in search of beavers, while others 
located themselves at the sugar-camps to make sugar. 
hey generally appointed some place of rendezvous on 
the Mississippi, where they might assemble in a body to 
return to their village in the spring. hither, at that 
season, they repaired, and there finished their trading 
with the whites, who uniformly followed them to their 
honies. , When the traffic was over, they buried all their 
dead who had died during the year. This was the 
great “* Medicine Feast,” as they call it. ‘They then 
proceeded to repair their lodges, and to make their 
fields ready for planting corn, which was soon after 
done. ‘The women performed this duty. Feasting and 
dancing then followed, the last being the national dauice, 
which was performed for the benefit of the young warriors. 
When the corn was up, the youths would start westward 
to hunt the buffalo and deer; part of the old men and 
women going to the lead-mines to work, and the re- 
mainder going to the river to fish and to procure mat- 
stuff. After about forty days’ absence they re-assembled, 
and this constituted the most happy portion of their year. 
Presents were reciprocally exchanged,—provisions were 
in abundance,—and nothing was done except feasting 
and visiting. The ‘Great Spirit’ was not forgotten; but 
daily offerings were made to the ‘Good Spirit’ to return 
thanks for his care of them, and to the ‘ Bad Spirit’ to 
keep him quiet. These feasts were renewed when the 
corn was ripe, and horse-racing, &c., occupied the time 
until the grain was secured. The traders then came 
among them again, and the price of the different articles 
which the Indians were to procure during the winter 
being previously fixed, they supplied the savages with 
such articles of clothing as they stood in need of upon 
credit. The old people and a part of the corn were 
then deposited in the houses built by the traders, to 
which the Indians were to resort during the winter with 
their skins, and the rest then started upon their winter- 
hunt. Such being the customs of this primitive people, 
we can easily understand the importance with which their 
village was regarded by them. But after the dissensions 
which we have mentioned had been renewed, whenever 
the Sacs returned to their village from the hunting- 
grounds they found their lodges destroyed by the white 
settlers, their corn ploughed up, and their fences thrown 
down. Skirmishes, in which individuals on both sides 
were killed, naturally followed. These quarrels continued 
for a long time; the whites every year becoming 
stronger, and the government taking more vigorous 
measures to enforce the execution of the treaty. The 
Indians themselves were divided into two parties; one, 
headed by Ke-o-kuck, being willing to remove, and the 
other, of which Black Hawk was the leader, as deter- 
mined to remain. At last General Gaines was directed 
by the government to proceed with a party of soldiers 
and enforce their removal. The General tried what 
could be done peaceably, in the first instance, and 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[JuLy 26, 


succeeded in effecting a temporary arrangement, under 
which the Sacs left their village; but afterwards, 
complaining that the government failed in complying 
with that part of the agreement which secured to them 
a supply of corn, Black Hawk determined to re-possess 
himself of the village in the spring. Meanwhile he 
proceeded up the Rock River to procure reinforcements 
from the tribes in that direction. He did not, however, 
succeed in this object, and his party was pursued by 
the American troops, who attacked them and were 
defeated with great loss. This victory inspired the 
Indians with new courage, and spread much consterna- 
tion and alarm throughout the country. But, as might 
be expected, the Black Hawk was at last overcome, 
and the war ended with a solemn renewal of the cession 
of the disputed territories. Black Hawk, his sons, and 
others, were surrendered as hostages to remain in the 
hands of the whites during the pleasure of the President. 

The government resolved to restore these Indians 
to their liberty, after showing them the richness and 
strength of the country. ‘They were accordingly escorted 
through different parts of it. ‘*‘ We all remember,” 
says the reviewer, “ the tour of this bold chief through 
a part of the Union, and with what eager anxiety a 
sight of him was anticipated. For ourselves, we plead 
guilty to the charge of admiration of the Indian warrior. 
His courage and daring in battle, his constancy in 
fatigue and danger, and his magnanimity under defeat, 
gave birth to this feeling. He had the bold, calm 
front so characteristic of the natives of our western 
wilds, and the prominent aquiline nose not unfrequent 
in that race, though the contrary has been vulearly, 
yet erroneously, supposed to be a distinguishing mark 
of their features. We may remark here that no part 
of our globe has presented specimens of savage nature 
that will bear a comparison in body or mind with our 
American Indians. Nowhere have finer models for 
the statuary or painter been presented, and in no race 
have some of the higher and nobler qualities of our 
nature been more signally developed. The vices of the 
American savage are those of pure barbarism, while his 
virtues appear to belong to a much higher degree in 
the scale of human society. Well may the philan- 
thropist feel a deep interest in their welfare, and well 
may he be excused for even enthusiastic exertions in 
their cause.” 


FIRE, 


Tue procuring of fire, which with us is so simple as 
scarcely to obtain a notice, is a matter of difficulty to 
those unprovided with the means we possess; and the 
shipwrecked mariner or benighted traveller has been 
sometimes compelled to suffer the extremity of cold in 
the midst of fuel, for want of a tinder-box. The most 
primitive mode of getting a fire was, no doubt, to rub 
together two pieces of wood, until the fine dust rubbed 
off was kindled from the heat produced by friction. 
Such is the mode used in the smaller islands of the 
Pacific, which have not yet had sufficient commerce 
with Europe or America to provide them with flint and 
steel: the larger ones appear to have been so amply 
supplied with fire-arms within these twenty years that 
the original mode must be out of use. 

The usual way of performing this operation is to 
take a stick of hard wood pointed at one end, and to 
turn it rapidly between the hands in the manner of a 
chocolate mill, the pointed end being all the time 
strongly pressed against a piece of soft wood, notched: 
to receive the point. The small particles rubbed off 
are soon ignited, and a little dry moss is added to in- 
crease the flame. ‘This method answers well with the 
uncivilized people who practise it, but it must require 
much habit and great strength to make it succeed. 


1834.] 


In Terra del Fuego, at the extremity of South 
America, the natives procure fire by rubbing briskly a 
piece of pyrites against a flinty stone, and catching the 
sparks upon a dry, mossy substance, which is quickly 
inflamed. This approaches nearly to the flint and 
steel of civilized nations; and it may appear strange 
that so helpless a race as the Fuegians should in this 
respect surpass the more ingenious inhabitants of the 
South Seas: the cause will probably be found in the 
abundance of hard metallic substances in the rocks of 
Terra del Fuego, while a small bit of metal is a 
valuable rarity in the Pacific Islands. 

The flint and steel, with the tinder and match, of 
some kind or other, have long been the instruments of 
getting light in the civilized world. A tinder of burned 
rags appears to be the only sort used in England, 
whilst on the continent a sort of parasitical mushroom, 
called the boletus igniarius, is used for that purpose. 
This substance is cut in slices, soaked in a strong 
solution of saltpetre, and dried ; in which state it catches 
fire by a spark, though not quite so readily as English 
finder. ‘This preparation is now known in England by 
the name of German tinder, and is used by smokers 
to light their cigars, as being more cleanly in the 
pocket than our tinder. The match is generally the 
same as ours, except in some parts of the south of 
Europe, where it is made of long strings of cotton, 
like candlewicks, dipped in brimstone. 


Mechanical means of striking fire with the flint have | 


been lone known: the pistol tinder-box, which is 
merely the lock of a pistol with a large pan to contain 
tinder, has been in use many years ; and, as lone ago 
as the fifteenth century, we find a notice of a clock 
which eave an alarm, and struck fire with a flint, to 
light-a candle at any hour of the night. 

Blacksmiths in some parts of this country light a fire 


by striking a piece of soft iron-wire several smart blows | 


with a hammer, by which it is made red hot ina few 
seconds. ‘The iron is then stuck into a little heap of 
powdered brimstone and sawdust, which is immediately 
kindled. 

It appears that, until within these few years, the only 
method of obtaining fire was by some sort of friction 
or collision, if we except the burning-glass, which 
was used for that purpose occasionally in very early 
times, as it is mentioned by Aristophanes, who lived 
twenty-two centuries ago. Within the present century, 
the aid of chemistry has been called in for this purpose: 
the methods of getting fire have been multiplied to a 
great extent, and instantaneous lights have become 
quite common, under the various names of Prometheans, 
Lucifers, &c. &c.; although, from its superior cheap- 
ness, the tinder-box will probably always keep its place 
in domestic use. 

One of the first chemical methods was the phosphorus- 
box ; this was a small tube, or bottle, containing a bit 
of phosphorus, a cork, and a few common matches: when 
a light was wanted, one of the matches was pressed 
against the phosphorus, so as to detach -a minute 
particle, and then rubbed quickly against the cork; the 
match would be lighted by this plan in a few seconds. 
The phosphorus-box is now but little used, having been 
superseded by more ready methods; though the name 
is often applied to other match-boxes which do not 
contain a particle of phosphorus. 

It had been known for many years that a mixture of 
a certain salt called chlorate of potash with sulphur, 
camphor, charcoal, or any othcr easily combustible 


powder, would take fire when placed in contact with f 


sulphuric acid; advantage was taken of this property 
by making matches of some of those mixtures, which 
matches of course ignited on being dipped into a bottle 
containing a little of the acid. This is by far the 
commonest instantaneous light in use; little pasteboard 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


2895 


boxes, containing above fifty matches, with a bottle 
of sulphuric acid, being sold for two-pence. The acid 
is prevented from spilling by a few filaments of asbestos 
mingled with it, answering the purpose of the cotton 
placed by many writers in their inkstands to prevent 
the ink from running over. Asbestos being a mineral 
is able to resist the action of the acid, which would 
destroy any vegetable substance such as cotton. — 

The principal inconvenience of these boxes lies in the 
difficulty of finding the mouth of the bottle in the dark, 
and the danger of spoiling clothes, &c., by the acid. 
This was obviated by a very ingenious apparatus, which 
was made the subject of a patent some years ago. In 


quent 













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. 


Hy 


as 


this apparatus, three matches (@ @ @) are fixed in a 
metal frame (b) turning upon an axis; around the 
axis 1s wound a bit of string, fastened to a spring (c). 
The httle frame is turned so that one of the matches 
rests against a wire attached to the stopper (d) of a 
bottle containing sulphuric acid. The spiral spring 
keeps the match gently pressed against this wire until 
the stopper is drawn out of the bottle, asin the figure. 
When this is done, the match passes by the stopper and 
rests against the wick (e) of a spirit-lamp, rubbing as 
it passes against the lower part of the stopper, pro- 
longed for that purpose, and of course well wetted with 
the acid in which it was immersed when closed. The 
stopper is replaced in the bottle—the wetted match 
takes fire—the lamp is lighted, and a fresh match takes 
the place of the former and is ready for a new operation. 
All this is the work of a single second, and the whole 
apparatus is contained in a box (fff ) small enough 
to go into the pocket. The box may be placed on a table 
and used by a person in bed; a string (¢) being fixed 
to the stopper passes over a wheel (2) and is conducted 
to the bed-side. Nothing more is necessary than to 
pull the string and let it go again; a lamp is im- 
mediately lighted, without the inconvenience of seeking 
for the box in the dark, dipping the match into the 
bottle at the hazard of spilling the acid, and lighting a 
candle afterwards. Three matches are fixed in the 
frame in case of failure with one, which will sometimes 
happen, however carefully the matches may be made: 
k is a box containing matches for future use. ) 
To do away with the inconvenience of the sulphuric 
acid bottle, matches are sometimes made of the chlorate 
mixture, containing each a little glass globule, in which 
a minute portion of sulphuric acid is inclosed. A slight 
blow breaks the glass, the acid mixes with the salt, and 
the match is lighted. This method is convenient, but 





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it is expensive, and rather dangerous, for an accidental 
blow or fall might ignite a box of matches i in a room, 
or even in the pocket. 

The chlorate mixture may be kindled by friction as 
well as by the sulphuric acid, and cases of matchies 
have been recently made up for the purpose, accom- 
panied by a little portfolio lined with sand-paper; the 
inatch is inserted between the covers and quickly with- 
drawn, when it will generally be kindled, though in 
damp weather it will sometimes require repetition. 

An attempt has been made in France to produce an 
instantaneous light by the compression of air. A strong 
tube A, is furnished with a piston B, 
which may be driven rapidly from C to D 
by striking the knob E, at the end of the 
piston-rod. The end of the tube, at D, is 
pierced with small holes to allow the air, 
when forced up by the piston, to pass into 
the hollow space G, in the piece I’, screwed 
air-tight to the end of the tubes. When a 
lieht is wanted, a small bit of tinder is 
placed in the hollow, the top screwed on 
and the piston driven in forcibly; on un- 
screwing the top the tinder will be found 
ignited. Some modification of this instru- 
ment may be found useful, but in its pre- 
sent state it 1s inferior to the common tinder- 
box :—it requires considerable strength,— 
is equally slow in getting a light,—requires 
a match to be lighted after the tinder has 
taken fire, and is easily put out of order. 

A very elegant light has been recently manufactured, 
on a principle which has been discovered within these 
few years. ‘The principle is, that if a stream of hy- 
drogen gas be directed against a bit of platina in a 
state of minute division, the platina will become red hot, 
and the hydrogen gas will be immediately inflamed. 
To perform this operation it 1s necessary to make hy- 
drogen gas, and then to pass it through a small pipe 
avainst the platina; this has been contrived in the 
following manner :—— 

GGis s acylindrical vessel of glass, almost full of diluted 
sulphuric acid. BB is a smaller bell-shaped vessel, 
with a large opening at the lower end, and terminating 
in a tube F at the other extremity ; this is put into 
the larger vessel, with its large end immersed, as in the 
engravings. C is acoil of zinc, suspended ‘by a wire 
in the interior vessel, and covered with the diluted acid. 





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It is well known to chemists that zine immersed in a 
mixture of sulphuric acid and water will decompose the 
water and produce hydrogen gas. ‘T’his gas then is im- 
medintely formed, aud will rush out through the tube I* 
arainst the bit of platina E, where it will be kindled, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| eridow it. 
| blished for 400 sick persons, besides twenty incurable 


[J uLY¥ 26, 


and will continue to burn as long as the zine eontintes 
to produce gas. ‘To have this inet maith always ready, 
the upper end of the tube must be closed by a stop-cock 
concealed in a cover, which may be made ornamental, 
as on one of the engravings, where it is the figure of a 
Turk. The gas, as it is produced, no longer finding a 
passage through the tube f, which is now closed, will 
expel the liquid from the interior vessel, and make it 
rise in the outer one: as soon as the liquid has been 
driven below the zinc, all action will of course cease, 
but the vessel is now full of gas, and quite ready for 
use. When a light is wanted, the stop-cock must be 
turned, by raising the cover D to which it is connected, 
the pressure of the external liquid will force the gas 
through the tube, and the light will be obtained. The 
stop-cock must then be closed by shutting the cover, 
which serves also to protect the platina from injury, 
and the zinc will supply gas for the next time it is 
wanted. 

In some of these instruments that part of the appa- 
ratus just behind the platina is furnished with a small 
spirit-lamp, which-is lighted and ready for use by the 
mere operation of raising the cover: further than this 
it seems Impossible to advance in point of convenience ; 
it remains for future ingenuity to discover some plan 
which shall unite cheapness with the other requisites, 


THE FOUNDER OF GUY’S HOSPITAL. 
Tuomas Guy was the son of a lighterman in Southwark, and 
was born inthe year 1644. He was apprenticed, in the year 
1660, to a bookseller in the porch of Mercer’s chapel, and 
ultimately commenced trade for himself, with a stock valued 
at about 200/., in the house that lately formed the angle 
between Cornhill and Lombard-street. ‘The English Bibles 
being at that time very badly printed, Mr. Guy engaged 
with other persons in a scheme for having Bibles printed in 
Holland, and importing them to this country, But this 
being put a stop to, he contracted with the University of ~ 
Oxford for their privilege of printing Bibles, and carried on 
an advantageous Bible trade for many years; and in this 
may be considered to have reaped the just profits of a person 
who applies himself to the remedy of a public inconvenience. 
But it is said that his principal gains arose from the purehase 
of seamen’s prize-tickets, in Queen Anne’s war, and from 
his dealings fh South-Sea stock. By his various speculations 
he ultimately amassed a fortune of nearly half a million 
sterling. The case of Guy shows what may be done in the 
way of acquiring wealth from low beginnings; but we do 
not know that we have any right to propose him generally 
as a fit model for imitation. We are the advocates of 
economical, not of penurious, habits, and those of Guy 
seem to have been of the latter deseri iption. Even his splen- 
did public benefactions are said to have been the result 
rather of accident than design; and, as in many similar 
cases, do not appear to indicate any peculiar benevolence of 
disposition, The story runs that, in his old age, Guy had a 
maid-servant whom he agreed to marry; and, preparatory 
to his nuptials, had ordered the pavement before his door to 
be mended so far as to a particular spot, which he marked. 
The maid, while her master was out, observed a broken 
place which the paviors had not repaired, and seemed to 
have no intention of repairing. On inquiring the reason, 
she was told that the spot which had attracted her attention 
was beyond the distance to which they were limited by 
Mr. Guy’s orders. She told them to mend it nevertheless, 
and her master would not be angry if he were informed 
that if was done by her direction... She was mistaken. 
Guy was greatly enraged to find his orders exceeded. He 
renounced his matrimonial seheme, and resolved to build 
hospitals with his money. His first intention, however, 
seems to have been rather to improve existing institutions 
than to found any of his own. In 1707 he built and 
furnished three wards in the north side of the outer court 
of St. Thomas's Hospital, in Southwark ; and gave 1007. to 
it annually for the eleven years preceding the ercetion of 
his own hospital, the design of which he formed in the 
seventieth year ofhisage, The charge of erecting this stately 
pile amounted to 18, 793d, besides 219,4990. which he left to 
He just live ed to see-it roofed in. It was esta- 


1$34.] 


lunatics. It is incorporated by act of parliament, and is 
under the medical mspection of three physicians, three 
surgeons, and one apothecary. There are twelve wards, 
containing upwards of 400 beds for so many in-patients, of 
whom the hospital admits about 2250 every year: besides 
whom, the charity relieves about 2000 out-patients yearly. 
Besides this hospital, Mr. Guy founded an almshouse, with a 
library, at Tamworth in Staffordshire (the place of his 
mother’s nativity), and which he himself represented in par- 
lament. It is intended for the benefit of fourteen poor men 
and women; and for their. pensions, as well as for the 
putting out poor children apprentices, he bequeathed 125/. 
a-year. To Christ's Hospital he gave 400/. a-year for ever ; 
and the residue of his estate, amounting to about 80,000/., 
he left to be divided among those who could prove them- 
selves to be in any degree related to him. He died, Decem- 
ber 17, 1724, in the 8lst year of his age, after having 
dedicated to charitable purposes more money than any one 
private man upon record in this country. | 


SPRING OF 1834. 


Tue following is a * Calendar’ kept at Barton-under- 
Needwood, in the county of Staffordshire, by I*. A. E. 
Hawkesworth, Esq., showing the wonderful precocity 
of the veeetable and, in some few instances, the animal 
kingdom, during the first three months of the present 
year. @ 
Abbreviations used: — fl, signifies flowering; ap., appeared ; 

id. shts., made shoots. 
Jan, 1. Whunter aconite (helleborus hyemalis), f1. 

5,  ILepatica (anemone hepatica), fl. 

5  Snow-drop (galanthus uivalis), fl. 

», Dandelion (leontodon taraxacium), fl. 

» Primrose (primula vulgaris), fl, 

5, Gorse (ulex Huropzus), fl. 

»  Mezereon (daphne mezecreum), fl. 

2. White dead-nettle damium album), fl. 

»,  Sveet violet (viola odorata), fl. 


3, Crocus (crocus vernus), fl. 
4, Laurustine (viburnum tinus), fl. 
6, Coltsfoot (tussilago farfara), fl, 
10. Periwinkle (vinca minor), fl. 
> Lotkhe (do. major), fl. 
11. Polyanthus (primula polyantha), fi. 
20. Blackthorn (prunugs spinesa), fl. 
24. Creeping crow-foot. (ranunculus repens), fl. 


», Mushrooms (agaricus campestris), gathered. 

Shepherd’s purse (thlaspi bursa pastoris), fl. 

Pansy (viola tricolor), fl. 

5,  Vartridges paired, | 

Aphides swarmed. 

5,  aifodil (narcissus pseudo-narcissus), fl, 
Yew (taxus baceat lit fl., male plant. 

»  Whitlow-grass (draba verna), fi. 

»» Common chickweed (stellaria media), fl. 

Red dead-nettle (lamium purpureum), fl. 

Weall-flower (cheiranthus cheiri), fl. 

»,  Marsh-marigold (caltha palustris), fl. 

Feverfew (:natricaria parthenium), fl. 

»y  Pilewort (ficaria verna), fl. 

KRedbreast (sylvia rubecula), builded. 

5, Filbert (corylus sativa), fl. 

5,  dlawthorn (crategus oxyacantha), md, shts. more than 
two inches long. 

Herb bennet, or avens (geum urbanum), fi. 

»» Wasp (vespa vulgaris), ap. 

Apricot (prunus Armeniaca), fi. 

Wall cress (arabis thaliana), fl, 

Hazel (corylus avellana), fl. 

Honeysuckle (lonicera periclymenum), md. shits. three 
inches long. 

Elder (sambucus nigra), md. shts. three inches long. 

»  Idouse-sparrow (fringilla domestica), builded. 






23. Rooks (corvus frngileens), builded, 
29, Campion (lychnis dioica), fl. 6 


» Knee-holly (ruseus aculeatus), fl, 
Mountain anemone (anemone Apennina), fl. 
Frogs (rana temporaria), spawned. 
Grouud-ivy (glechoma hederacea), fl. 
»,  Ivy-leaved speedwell (veronica hederefolia), fl. 
Hairy-leaved ladies*-smock (cardamine hirsuta), fl.” 
Mar. }. Laurel (prnnus laurocerasus), fl.- 

2. Perennial mercury (mercurialis perennis), fl, 
yy  Jtlm (ulmus campestris), fi. 
+» Barren strawberry (fragaria sterilis), fl. 
»  Sweetwilham (dianthus barbatus), 4. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


287 


Mar. 3. Bog stitchwort (stellana uliginosa), fl. 
4, Double hyacinth (hyacinthus orientalis), fl, 
», Peacock butterfly (papilio io), ap. 
0» Great stitchwort (stellaria holostea), fl, 
9» Lacamahac (populus balsamifera), fl. 
Box (buxus sempervirens), fl. 
» Large bat (vespertilio altivolans), ap.* 
Cowslip (primula veris), fl. 
Marsh mouse-ear (cerastinm aquaticum), fi, 
9. Wood anemone (anemone nemorosa), fl. 
12. Pear (pyrus communis), fi. 
13. Larch (pinus Jarix), fl. 
14, Common ladies’-smock (cardamine pratensis), fl. 
Butter-bur colt’s-foot (tussilago petasites), fl. 
Harebell (scilla nutans), fl. 
Crown imperial (fritillaria imperialis), fl. 
Sauce-alone, or garlic (erysimum alliaria), fl. 
Wake-robin (arum maculatum), fl. 
Yellow rocket (erysimum barbarea), fl. 


18, 
24, 
28. 
30. 
ol, 


HOGARTH AND HIS WORKS.—No. IV. 

Tne Ewraaup Musician, 
In ° Trusler’s Hogarth Moralized, which to some 
shrewd and sensible explanations of our great artist’s 
desiens adds a very sufficient quantity of what is ex- 
pressively called “ twaddle,” there are the following 
pompous remarks upon the plate of the ‘* Enraged 
Musician :’— 

** Amidst all the follies of the awe, there never was a 
greater than the immoderate passion of the people for 
music. Though amusement and recreation are some- 
times necessary, yet when carried to excess they become 
vicious and shameful. -Now, so far did the luxury of 
this kingdom extend at the time when this plate was 
first published, which was in the year 1741 (and which 
seems at present rather to increase than diminish), that 
Italians, as being supposed to be the greater proficients, 
were brought over at the greatest expense. * * ‘To 
ridicule this degeneracy of the age, Mr. Hogarth pub- 
lished the print before us.” 

Dr. Trusler by no means stood alone in calling every 
advance in refinement, which is an advance in civiliza- 
tion, by the name of: ** luxury.” Every mechanical 
improvement, and every chemical discovery, which in- 
creases the ability of a nation to obtain comfort and 
elewance at a cheap rate, is, with such writers, a proof 
of the “‘ deveneracy of the age:” every step in the 
diffusion of knowledge by which the general mind of a 
people is improved, is with them a symptom of national 
corruption and the ‘‘ degeneracy of the uge:” above 
all, every attempt on the part of the people to obtain 
cheap enjoyments by the cultivation of their taste,— 
every indication which they give of a love for music, for 
sculpture, for painting, for poetry,~-is an approach to 
effeminacy, and a sad proof of the ‘‘ degeneracy of the 
age.” Writers are, however, growing wiser ;—and, 
althongh too many would still cherish those prejudices 
which make us halt in onr onward march to excellence, 
the greater number have learnt that the real ** degene- 
racy of the age” is exhibited in.the ignorance of great 
masses of the people, who, still clinging to coarse and 
unintellectual gratifications, despise those refinements 
which tend to make “ amusement and recreation” a 
source of permanent improvement. 

Hogarth had certainly no intention of ridiculing “* the 
immoderate passion of the people for music,” when 
he exhibited a musical professor distracted at the com- 
plicated noises which the streets of London produce. 
He imagined a scene which was well adapted to his 
extraordinary powers of combination ;—he perhaps saw 
such a scene ;—at any rate he had observed many of 
those circumstances which he has here so happily 
erouped. The woman bawling out a ballad, with a 
squalling child singing a treble accompaniment to her 
melody—the shrieking parrot—the children emulating 
each other in the discord of ‘the -rattle and the druin—- 

* Tn the Rev. Gilbert White’s ‘ History of Selborre,’ it 18 said 
never to appear before the end of April. 


283 THE PENNY 


the milk-maid uttering her shrill morning cry—the 
blind hautboy player—the knife-grinder operating upon 
a cleaver—the howling dog—the boom of the pavior’s 
rammer—the clatter of the dustman’s bell—the sow- 
elder who “ pours through the echoing horn his pen- 
sive soul ’—the shout of “* Mackerel alive, alive O 1’?— 
and lastly, the cats and the sweep on the house top, 
and the bells pealing from the steeple ;—noises such 
as these have deafened many a sensitive ear in London. 
But it required the humour of Hogarth to collect 
them together for the purpose of exhibiting their effect 
upon the unhappy violin-player, who had risen to an 
early enjoyment of his own harmony. Ireland, in his 
edition of Hogarth, says, that Mr. John Festin, the 


MAGAZINE. [Jury 26, 1834 


rant professor of the hautboy, who established himself 
before his window, and played tune after tune to the 
ereat delight of the owner of a barrow of vegetables, 
who rewarded the minstrel, ever and anon, with a large 
onion. Ireland holds that Mr. Festin is the ‘ enraged 
musician ;’—but the figure and face bear a considerable 
resemblance to Dr. Arne, the eminent composer. 
Hogarth has succeeded perfectly in working out his 
conception of a musician of taste distracted by the 
noises of our “* ereat Babel.”’ He had no intention to 
ridicule the musician; for his misery, although ludicrous 
enough, still excites our sympathy. ‘The print can 
hardly be called a caricature—for it has very little of 
exageeration. Such an assemblage of discords would 
be difficult to light upon—but there is no violation 
of probability in the painter's grouping of so many 


finest flute-player of his day, suggested the notion of 


this print to Hogarth, by describing his misery at being 
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LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 





Printed by Wituram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


Monthly Supplement of 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





149.] 


June 3O to July 31, 1834. 





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In the 17th Number (Vol. I.) of the ‘ Penny Maga- [our annals,—it does not derive its sole interest from 
gine, there will be found a sketch of the early history of holding the tombs of the monarchs, and statesmen, 


Westminster Abbey, with views of the western entrance, 
and of the Abbey and Hall, as seen from St. James’s 
Park, before the alterations of Sir Christopher Wren. 
We propose now to devote this Supplement, and a 
succeeding one, to a general description of the Abbey 
as it at present stands.: We are principally induced to 
give this extension to the subject by having in our pos- 
session six beautiful drawings of the Abbey, by Mr. 
Smallwood. That very accomplished artist is recently 
dead; and these drawings were amongst his latest 
works, - 

Westminster Abbey, although inferior to some of 
our cathedrals in magnitude, is, in many respects, a 
most beautiful specimen of the pointed style of archi- 
tecture. This, together with its state of complete pre- 
servation, and its connexion with the various eras of 
our history, renders it a monument worthy of the in- 
spection not merely of the antiquary, but of all who 
fee] interested in the world in which they live. Unlike 
almost every other structure of a similar kind in Great 
Britain, Westminster Abbey is not merely a memorial 
of what our forefathers were, and a connecting link in 
_ Vou, GI. 


exert its prodigious influence on man. 


and poets, of long past generations,—but it is still 
appropriated to the same purposes ; and in all probabi- 
lity it is likely to continue, as long as Britain retains 
her rank and glory, to be the mausoleum of the great 
and the good, and the silent indicator of our national 
history. ; oe 

There is one point of interest connected with the 
Abbey which is not so generally adverted to as it ought 
to be. In it was sheltered the father of the British 
press. Itis of little importance to the claims of Caxton 
whether or not we believe the evidence satisfactory 
which assigns to Oxford and Frederick Corsellis a 
priority of claim as to the honour of having introduced 
the first press, and printed the first book, in England. 
The evidence is no¢ perfectly satisfactory: and whether it 
were or not, it can neither invalidate Caxton’s right, as 
being emphatically the founder of the British press, nor 
diminish our esteem and respect for his memory. It was 
in this Abbey, or in its adjacent buildings, that he first 
set in motion that power which, even in our day, and 
at a distance of four hundred years, is but beginning to 
And yet, toa 
er 


290 


reflecting mind, what a source of thought is there 
opened in the contemplation of the two wras—the age 
of Caxton’s press, and the age of the printing-machine! 
In the one, we have a solitary individual engaged in 
the various avocations of a printer, acorrector of the 
press, an editor, a translator, and, we may add, a pro- 
sector,—turning the current of opinion and custom, 
single-handed, into a channel altogether new ;—offering, 
with singular caution, one production slowly and deli- 
berately after another; and, though a wise and pru- 
dent man, utterly ignorant of the vast results awaiting 
his experiment: in the other, a power, truly described 
as “‘ tremendous,” extending its influence through all 
ranks of society, and bearing with a direct and accu- 
mulating force upon the moral destiny of the human 
race. 

Westminster Abbey is built in the form of nearly all 
ecclesiastical buildings of the same style—that of a cross. 
The eastern part, from the transept, is surrounded by 
chapels of various forms and sizes,—that of Henry the 
Seventh being the most capacious and ‘magnificent. 
This exquisite production of art forms no part of the 
Abbey ; but it is so intimately joined to the primary 
building as scarcely to be known as a separate erection, 
except by the elaborate richness of its architectural 
details. Henry, who carried his prudence into avarice, 
when advanced in years, and firmly seated on the 
throne, was alarmed by the ‘* compunctious visitingss ” 
of conscience, and thought it expedient to make his 
peace with heaven by sacrificing a large portion of his 
valued treasures in the erection and endowment of this 
beautiful edifice. 

The front elevation of the north transept of the 
Abbey presents an example of that diversified richness 
and elegant yet fanciful display which belong to the 
pointed style of architecture. Its imposing effect is 
derived from its immense buttresses,—its elevated 
pimnacles,—and its admirable Rose, or St. Catherine 
wheel, window. The Rose Window was rebuilt in 
1722 :—it forms a circle of thirty-two feet in diameter. 
There is a corresponding circular window, but more 
elaborate in its tracery, in the south transept, which 
was newly built in 1814. 

It is to be regretted that Westminster Abbey, like 
every other building of ancient interest in the metropolis, 
is unfavourably situatea, or at least unfavourably sur- 
rounded, 'The approach from the west is meagre in 
every thing that constitutes what is understood by the 
phrase of a ‘* wood view ;” the southern side is blocked 
up; and the eastern is hemmed in by the buildings of 
Westminster Hall and the Houses of Parliament. The 
only clear point of observation is on the northern side ; 
of which the principal feature is the front of the transept 
already noticed. ‘There are, however, different points 
from which the Abbey may be seen to some advantage ; 
an agreeable view of the upper portion of the western 
towers may be obtained from St. James’s Park. 

Within the walls, the Abbey is 360 feet long, the 
nave is 72 feet broad, and the leneth across the transept 
is 195 feet. Henry the Seventh’s Chapel is 99 feet in 
length, the breadth is 26 feet, and the height 54 feet. 

‘The public are admitted into the interior of the Abbey 
by an entrance from the south-east, (well known as 
“* Poets’ Corner,”) on a payment of fifteen-pence. It was 
remarked in the description of St. Paul’s, (see No. 133,) 
that it is the spirit of exclusion which has powerfully 
contributed to render a portion of the English public 
mischievous amid works of art. The exhibition of 
Westminster Abbey involves somewhat of that serdid 
principle which has a strong tendency to destroy any 
emotion of awe and veneration which the most rude 
and uninformed cannot but feel when visiting the inte- 
rior of the edifice. Hach successive party of visitants 
are hurried round the sacred pile with an impatience 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Ju.y 31, 


which leaves no doubt as to its cause. The names of 
the principal monuments are given out in the style of 
the exhibitors of Bartholomew fair; and the ereat bulk 
of those who daily throng the Abbey in summer cer- 
taily see the interior, but they see nothing more. They 
have no time for that orderly and quiet inspection so 
essential to the thorough feeling of ‘“‘the genius of 
the place:” they see monuments, and tombs, and 
sculptures ; and when the visit is over, they have a con- 
fused recollection of something venerable and immpres- 
sive, but all distinct traces are gone. We would recom- 
mend the visiters who pay their money to turn a deaf 
ear to the “ nasal twang’ of the guides—to give 
themselves up to their own meditations—to stay as long 
as they please—and to be pleased to stay till their 
minds are thoroughly imbued with the pure and interest- 
ing ideas which this sanctuary of the illustrious dead 
must inspire. 

It is from the west entrance that the most striking 
and effective view of the interior is to be obtained. The 
view from this point is more extended and unbroken, 
and the architectural character of the building appears 
more complete, than from any other. ‘The lights, too, 
are so judiciously introduced, and the arrangement and 
proportions of the columns so nicely adjusted to the 
forms and magnitude of the arches, and to the aérial 
loftiness of the vaulting, that the whole combines into 
one harmonious perspective, and for a time the spec- 
tator feels a stronger inclination to contemplate the 
picture than to examine the design. ‘There are, how- 
ever, many other points from which the different parts 
of the Church may be seen to great advantage; and. 
as almost every part displays an exuberancy of monu- 
mental decoration, in which the art of sculpture has 
been advanced to a very high degree of excellence, 
there is probably no structure in the kingdom from the 
examination of which the intelligent mind can derive a 
greater pleasure.”* 

On entering Henry the Seventh’s Chapel, which is 
slightly elevated above the ground-floor of the Abbey, 
and is approached by steps of black» marble, the 
spectator pauses to gaze upon the extraordinary 
scene. The ‘“‘ dim religious light” which fills the 
place inspires him with a solemn feeling of devotion, 
and he is enchained by the potency of art. No- - 
thing can be conceived more exquisite in proportion, 
or more harmonions in detail. The shafts of the arches 
spring with almost magical lightness towards the 
fretted. roof, which is most gorgeously elaborated with 
an astonishing variety of figures. The architect has been 
sincularly happy in combining in this gem-like creation 
the opposing principles of simplicity and profusion 
of ornament, The walls, as well as the nave, contain up- 
wards of one hundred and twenty statues of patriarchs, 
saints, martyrs, and confessors, beside angels and 
innumerable other smaller figures. Upon a raised 
flooring on each side of the nave is a row of oaken 
stalls, in front of which are reading desks, and under 
the latter, on the pavement, a corresponding row of 
seats. The sub-sellia of both, which turn back on 
hinges, display a whimsical arrangement of historicai, 
erotesque, and other carvings. Under each seat there 
are generally three compartments in high relief, viz., 
a central and two side ones; the latter being mostly 
bordered by foliage, which branch out from the middle 
one: the figures are oenerally seated, or placed in in- 
clined positions to accommodate them to the space oc- 


‘cupied. The subjects comprise groups of bacchanalians, 


a grotesque fiend bearing off a friar on his shoulders, 
monsters, animals, clusters of fruit, foliage, flowers, &c 
But profuse as is the richness of ornament, there is no 
spoiling of the general effect by a crowding together of 
disproportioned carvings—all is in perfect accordance 
* Brayley’s ‘ Londiniana, 


a 





1884] 


with the purest taste. The building will thus ever be 
revarded as one of the most unique and splendid spe- 
cimens of the pointed style of architecture erected in 
Europe. The tomb of the founder, Henry VII. and 
his wife Elizabeth, (by a marriage with whom the dis- 
astrous contentions between the rival houses of York 
and Lancaster were terminated,) stands in the middle 
of the eastern part of the Chapel. Lord Bacon has 
described this monument as ‘‘ one of the stateliest and 
daintiest in Europe ;” and it still merits the distinction, 


though deteriorated by time, and bereft by cupidity of 


many of its richest ornaments. The will of Henry VII. 
is preserved in the Chapter House of the Abbey. 
In it he gives particular directions respecting the dis- 
posal of his body, and the religious observances which 
he deemed necessary to establish. 

The banners and other heraldic pomp of the Knights 
of the Bath add to the impressive effect produced. 
But in the Duke of Buckingham’s Chapel, at the 
eastern part, there is an effigy, in wax, in ducal robes, 
preserved in a glass case, which is offensive to every 
idea of fitness and propriety. ‘There are about half a 
dozen similar wax-work figures in costume, also pre- 
served in glass cases, in another part of the Abbey: 
but as the visiter has to ascend a staircase, and they 
are not immediately in contrast with the surrounding 
monuments and sculptures, the feeling of impropriety 
is not perhaps quite so strong, as in this particular 
instance in Henry the Seventh’s Chapel. The puerile 
exhibition ought to be removed to some wax figure 
repository. Nothing can be conceived more calculated 
to destroy the impression produced by a visit to the 
Abbey, than the injudicious and tasteless introduction 
of these figures. In order to render the exhibition still 
more absurd, there is a favourite paroquet in the glass 
case containing the figure of the Duchess of Richmond. 
Queen Elizabeth would not feel her dignity maintained 
oy being thus exhibited in her own “ hoop and fardin- 
eale,”’ with staring eyes and painted lips; nor would 
Nelson appreciate the millinery taste which consigns 
him to the admiration of children, in the identical cos- 
tume in which he ‘* conquered when he fell.” 

In No. 26 (Vol. I.) of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ there 
is a wood-cut of the statue of James Watt, then in the 
work-shop of Mr. Chantrey. ‘This beautiful statue is 
now erected in a little chapel called St. Paul’s, on the 
northern side of the Abbey. It is elevated on a pedestal 
of white marble, and nothing can be conceived finer in 
art than the statue itself, or more striking in contrast 
with the objects which surround it. The great im- 
prover of the steam-engine is looking down in calm 
and contemplative mood on the “ old world” below; 
knights in attitude of prayer, and ladies with uplifted 
hands, fixed in monumental stone, bring the spectator 
back to the ‘‘ age of the strong-hand and the iron- 
glove ;’ but the statue of Watt dispels the illusion, and 
reminds us how the busy world outside the Abbey walls 
has been moving on, and the very face of society been 
changed, ' 

A description of the various monuments and sculp- 
tures in the Abbey would be much too long for the 
present article; but there is so much of history con- 
necied with many of them, that we cannot avoid a 
passing notice. J*ox’s monument is a beautiful work 
of art;—the negro knecling at the feet of the dying 
orator is an admirable production, as well as historically 
expressive of the statesman’s exertions, which laid the 
foundation for the abolition of the slave trade: nor is 
the statue of his great-rival, Pitt, at too great a distance 
to destroy the force of Scott’s allusion :— 


** Drop upon J"ox’s grave the tear, 
"Twill trickle to his rival’s bier ! 
N 


Pitt’s monument is of colossal magnitude, and is the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


291 


production of Richard Westmacatt, who also desioned 
and executed the one to Fox. ‘The monument of Earl: 
Mansfield is also worthy of that eloquent judge; and 
equally so is that of the great Earl of Chatham. There 
is also one erecting to Mr. Canning. ‘These are in the 
northern transept of the Abbey, which seems in some 
measure to be reserved for illustrious and eloquent 
statesmen, as the ‘‘ Poets’ Corner,” in the south-east, 
is the peculiar abode of those whose works will live 
while the English language exists. There is a singular 
feeling of melancholy pleasure excited by viewing 
Addison’s monument, who himself used to wander 
among those tombs, and meditate upon the “ field of 
graves ” enclosed within the precincts of the Abbey. 

In the Chapel of St. Edward the Confessor, which 
originally formed the eastern termination of the Abbey 
church, lie the remains of the royal founder, encircled 
by the ashes of succeeding sovereigns, some of whom 
were the greatest and most heroic that ever swayed the 
British sceptre. King Edward’s shrine stands nearly 
in the middle of the chapel, and had formerly an altar 
attached to it, at which multitudes of every degree have 
made their oblations, and besought the intercessional 
agency of the sainted monarch. ‘* Such great sanc- 
tity,’ says Brayley, “is still attached to this shrine, 
that a part of the stone-basement seat, on the east side 
of the south transept, has been worn into a deep hollow 
by the feet of devout Catholics, who occasionally attend 
here early of a morning, and who, from that point, can 
just obtain a view of the upper division of the shrine. 
It is still, also, within the recollection of some aged 
members of the church, that, previously to the French 
Revolution, the very dust and sweepings of the shrine 
and chapel of St. Edward were also preserved, and 
exported to Spain and Portugal in barrels! But even 
mn that trade adullerations were practised, and much 
unholy dust, swept from other chapels, was mingled 
with the rubbish of this shrine.” 

In this chapel stands that celebrated object of popular 
curiosity the, Coronation Chair. Inclosed within the 
frame-work is the far-famed stone brought from Scone, 
in Scotland, by Edward I. ‘Traditions innumerable 
have been connected with this otherwise uninteresting 
stone ;—the old legends actually affirming that it formed 
Jacob’s pillow on that memorable night when he saw 
the vision of the ladder reaching to heaven. ‘That, 
however, it is of very considerable antiquity there is 
little reason to doubt; but we are not prepared to 
admit with Sir James Ware and the Irish histo- 
rians, that it was brought into Ireland by a colony of 
the Tuath de Danans, and that it had the pro- 
perty of issuing sounds resembling thunder whenever 
any of the royal Scythian race placed themselves 
on it for inauguration; and that he only was crowned 
King of Ireland under whom, when placed on it, the 
stone groaned and spake! Nor does there seem very 
strong grounds for believing that Fergus, the first 
King of Scotland, brought it with lim from Ireland, 
and was crowned upon it in the year of the world 
3641; or before Christ, 330. These legends and tra- 
ditions are scarcely worth attention. If the stone itself 
were curious as a work of art, it would be, on that ae- 
count, an object of considerable interest; as it is, we 
see nearly as little value to be attached to it as to any 
useless relic of the middle ages. It is certain that it 
was deemed of vast importance by the Scotch ;—that 
its restoration formed the subject of an article in a 
treaty of peace, and also ofa political conference between 
Edward III. and David I.,—but this, of course, was 
the result of the superstitious value assigned to it, and 
the common belief, in those times of ignorance, that 
success attended the nation as long as it retained it in 
its keeping. Mr. Brayley, who has investigated the 
history of this “* rude and unwrought s es with some 

; 2 


292 


patience, has also given US & mineralogical description 
of ‘it, obtained from the late Mr. Sowerby, who accom- 
panied him to the Abbey for the purpose. In the 
technical language of mineralogy, it is “‘a sandy }1 
granular stone; a sort of debris of sienite,—chiefly 
quartz,—with light and reddish-coloured felspar, and 
also light and ‘dark mica, with probably some dark- 
green hornblende intermixed: some fragments of a 
reddish- -grey clay slate, or schist, are likewise included 
in its composition.” In plain words, it bears much re- 
semblance to the * Dun-stones,’ such as are brought 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[Jury 3], 


from Dundee in Scotland, and used for various purposes. 
It is, therefore, somewhat strange that the various 
authors who have mentioned it should all have termed 
it “a marble stone.” Indeed, the actual identity of 
the stone, as being the one on which the kings of 
Scotland were crowned, has been strongly contested. 
The Coronation Chair is composed of oak, and is still 
firm and sound, though much disfigured by wanton 
mutilations and the effects of time. It is scratched 
over with impertinencies, in the shape of ill- formed 
initials;—a mean and vulgar habit, which we wish our 


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293 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


out of 230 MSS., but one was saved. 


e 
3 


. It was unfortunately burnt, in 1644, along 


monastery 





that a copy or an abridgment of the 


with many others 
It seems, however, 


e 
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splendid scenes been 
silent pace 


of the Abbey—one monarch 
and prelates and nobles 


Harleian manuscripts. For 
” and gathered to his last 


measured and 
h the sound of trumpet 


have those 


of ages 
amid nodding plumes, 


‘‘ sleeping with his fathers, 
following the bier with 


book constitutes one of the 


a long series 
acted within the walls 


repose, 


or a 


3 


of the visiters. 


Malcolm. 


led in very 


of England in this 
features of interest. 
oust ceremony, 


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[The Nave. looking West from St. Edward's Chapel. } 


and kept among the archives of the | another approaching wit 


3 


x actuates the majority 


The coronation of the kings 
Abbey forms one of its peculiar 
For the regulation of this au 


tells 


a most magnificent book was comp! 


with some pleasure we remark, that the more recent 
us, 


monuments are free from marks and injuries, evincing 


either that a better watch is now maintained 


countrymen had sense and taste to abjure. Yet it is 
better feelin 


1834.] 
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294 


the echoing shouts and resounding cries of a nation, to 


step into the vacant seat. Some of the coronations 
have been scenes of extraordinary magnificence. Henry 
the Seventh’s was deficient in show: he seems to have 
transferred his coronation pomp to his funeral. But 
nis son, the Eighth Harry, atoned for the deficiency. 
The excess of magnificence displayed seems to have sur- 
passed that of all previous occasions. Whatever could 
dazzle the eye in the rich barbaric pomp of the time 
was exhibited. To render the excess of mag- 
iificence safe, conspicuous, and clean, the streets were 
railed, barred, and swept; and that the general view 
might not be incongruous, by the eye wandering from 
pomp to wretchedness,—from sparkling gems and 
shining velvets to smoked and dirty plaster,—the 
fronts of the houses were hung with tapestry and 
arras. Upon-this occasion great part of the south 
side of Cheapside was covered with eloth of gold. 
The different eity companies were arranged on stages 
from Grace-church westward. The goldsmiths had 
virgins clad in white placed before them, bearing 
burning tapers; and numbers of priests in the rich 
vestments of the altar lined the way, some bearing 
crosses, and others burning incense before the royal 
pair. After a lapse of three centuries, the coro- 
nation of George the Fourth is remarkable as being 
the only one in modern times which was celebrated 
with extraordinary splendour. ) 

Another circumstance connected with the Abbey 

is the funeral of Oliver Cromwell. He was buried 
in Henry the Seventh’s Chapel, with a pomp 
little reconcileable to republican notions. The walls 
were hung with escutcheons to the number of 240. 
‘The hearse had twenty-six large embossed shields ; 
twenty-four smaller, with crowns; sixty badges (his 
crest), and thirty-six scrolls, with 2mottoes suited 
to his merit, placed on it. His effigies were carved, 
and superbly arrayed; and a velvet pall of eighty 
yards was -borne over all. After the Restoration, 
his body was exhumed, and hanged on a gallows »t 
‘Lyburn ! 7 —_—_---—— 
- ‘The late Musical Festival is too important to be 
passed over, in our account of the Abbey. We shall in. 
troduce it by an account of previous festivals, abridged, 
together with the account of the late one, from the 
*“Musical Library.’ 

“The first instance in which musie appears to have 
been formally introduced in aid of charity, in Great 
Britain, was’ at the Anniversary of the Sons of the 
Clergy, in 1709, when the celebrated Dr. Atterbury 
preached at St. Paul’s. From this time the practice 
was-continued till 1739, when, by a mutual agreement, 
the ‘Royal Society of Musicians engaged to provide 
a band’ for two annual performances for the sum of 
501., which performances take place in St. Paul’s 
Cathedral in‘ the month of May, and at which the 
‘ Overture to Esther’ has been so constantly played, 
almost ever since it was composed, that it now seems 
in a peculiar manner dedicated to the service of the 
church. 

In 1738, just at the time when the original and 
pleasing melodies of Dr. Arne began to have a power- 
ful influence on the national taste, and to form an era 
in English music, the institution of the Fund for the 
Support of Decayed Musicians not only provided relief 
for the indigent and distressed, but set an example 
which has since been followed by other associated 
bodies in this country, at Vienna, and in other parts of 
Europe. By rather a singular coincidence, Handel, 
then in great pecuniary straits, was, with the utmost 
difficulty, persuaded to appeal to the gratitude of the 
public, and cleared 800/. by a benefit concert. Handel's 
* Messiah’ was first performed in Dublin, and was con- 
secrated to charity, the proceeds being given by the 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


TJury 31," 


creat musician for the benefit of the city prison. Han- — 
del afterwards performed it annnally for the benefit of 
the Fouraling Hospital in London; and after his 
death, it was brought forward by Mr. Smith and 
Mr. Stanley until (777, producing in twenty-eight 
years a sum of 10,0001, 

The commemoration of Handel, which took place in 
Westminster Abbey in 1784, exactly half a century ago, 
forms one of the greatest musical epochas, and is re- 
cognized as such, not only by our own writers and pro- 
fessors, but by those of every other country; for no 
event of the kind, indeed no exhibition of art, ever ex- 
cited so general an interest. ‘The commemoration took 
its rise in a eonversation between Viscount Fitzwilliam, 
Sir W. W. Wynne, and Joah Bates, Esq., Commis- 
sioner of the Victualling Office, at the beginning of the 
year 1783. It occurred to these enthusiastic admirers of 
Handel, that the birth and death of that great master 
would be an occasion on whieh their scheme might be 
properly introduced ; and as the year 1784 would form 
a complete century since his birth and a quarter of a 
century from his death, it was resolved to attempt it. 
The plan was communicated to the Governors of the 
Musical Fund, who approved of at, and promised their 
assistance. It was next submitted to the Directors of 
the Concert of Ancient Music, who voluntarily under- 
took the trouble of managing and directing the cele- 
bration. At length the design coming to the know- 
ledge of the King, (George III.) it was honoured with 
his Najesty’s sanction and approbation. Westminster 
Abbey, where the bones of the great musician were 
deposited, was thought the fittest place for the per- 
formance ; alld application having been made to the 
Bishop of Rochester (Dr. Thomas, Dean of the Abbey) 
for the use of it, his Lordship readily consented ; only 
requesting, as the performance would interfere with the 
annual benefit of the Westminster Liospital, that part 
of the profits might be appropriated to that charity. 
‘Yo this the projectors of the plan readily acceded; and 
it was afterwards settled, that the profits of the first 
days performance should be equally divided between 
the Musicians’ I'und and the Westminster Hospital, 
and those of the subsequent days should be applied to 
the former exclusively. : 

The commemoration accordingly took place on the 
26th of May, 1784, and four additional days. The 
Abbey was fitted up with surpassing elegance by Mr. 
Wyatt, the architect. At the east end of the aisle, a 
throne was erected in the Gothic style, and a centre 
box, richly decorated, and furnished with crimson satin, 
fringed with gold, for the reception of their Majesties 
and the Royal Family; on the mneht hand of which 
was a box for the Bishops, and on the left one for the 
Dean and Chapter of Westminster. ‘The orchestra was 
built at the opposite extremity, ascending regularly 
from the height of seven feet from the floor, to upwards 
of forty feet from the base of the pillars; and extending 
from the centre to the top of the side aisles. At the 
top of the orchestra was placed the organ, in a Gothic 
frame. The choral bands were placed on steps, seem- 
inely ascending into the clouds, on eaeh of the side 
aisles. ‘The instrumental band amounted to 513, and 
on the third day was increased to 535. ‘* In celebra~ 
ting the disposition, discipline, and effects of this most 
numerous and excellent band, the merit of the admirable 
architect who furnished the elegant designs for the or- 
chestra and galleries must not be forgotten ; as, when 
filled, they constituted one of the grandest and most 
magnificent spectacles that imagination ean delineate. 
All the preparations for receiving their Majesties, and 
the first personages of the kingdom, at the east end,— 
upwards of five hundred musicians at the west,—and 
the publie in general, to the number of three or fout 


thousand persons, in the area and galleries, so wonder= 


1934] 


fully corresponded with the style of architecture of this 
venerable and beautiful structure, that there was nothing 
visible, either for use or ornament, which did not har- 
monize with the principal tone of the building. But, 
besides the wonderful manner in which this construction 
exhibited the band to the spectators, the orchestra was 
so judiciously contrived that almost every performer 
was in full view of the conductor and leader; which ac- 
counts, in some measure, for the uncommon care 
with which the performers confess they executed their 
parts.” : 
The success which attended this Commemoration wa 
very great. ‘Iwo additional days were added to the 
original number of three, and the additional tickets 
sold amounted to nearly four thousand. ‘The receipts 
were 12,736/. 12s. 10d.; and out of this, the Society of 
Decayed Musicians received 6000/., and the West- 
minster Hospital 1000/. So great was the excitement 
produced by it, that a series of annual ‘* commemo- 
rations” took place for several years, the first of 
which was celebrated in 1785 (exactly a year after the 
grand commemoration) in the Abbey, under the same 
patronage and direction as before. The band was 
increased by the addition of more than a hundred 
performers ; but, on this occasion, the receipts were 
less, although, singular to say, the expenses were also 
diminished, notwithstanding the increase of the band. 
‘In 1786, the festival was again repeated, and the band 
also enlarged, so as, on this occasion, to amount to 74] 
individuals. ‘Ihe proceeds this year came within 400/, 
of the receipts in 1784, but the expenses were increased. 
The pnblic appetite being rather excited than satiated, 
a fourth grand festival took place in 1787, with still 
an increase in the band, which now amounted to 825, 
ncluding the principal singers, twenty-five in number. 
On this occasion the receipts rose to 14,042/., proving 
the interest of the public to be still on the stretch. 
But during the two succeeding years, there were no 
renewals of these splendid scenes,—the state of the 
king’s nealth being the principal cause why they were 
suspended. ‘They were again renewed in 1790, and 
finally in 1791, when the performers were increased to 
the astonishing number of !667. But though toler- 
ably well attended, the tickets were not demanded with 
the same avidity as before; the edge of novelty was 
blunted; the expenses of the performances were in- 
creased, and the means of defraying them diminished. 
At this last Abbey-meeting the immortal Haydn, then 
on his first visit to this country, was present; and from 
it derived a deep reverence for the mighty genius of 
Handel, which, to the honour no less of his candid 
modesty than of his judgment, he was ever ready to 
avow. 


ne late Festival does not appear to have given such 
entire satisfaction as might have been expected. There 
were a few present who had also been present at the 
*“* Commemoration” in 1784; and one of them, to 
whom the character of an unbiassed judge is given, is 
by no means disposed to allow that the palm was 
borne away from. the first grand celebration. The 
editor of the ‘ Musical Library’ assigns as one cause 
of failure the immense quantities of cloth with which 
the galleries, the orchestra, and the benches were 
covered. Cloth being a non-conductor of sound, the 
erand combined effect of the orchestra was deadened 
by the absorbing medium through which the volume of 
sound had to pass in reaching the audience. In 1784, 
and subsequent years, the fronts of the galleries and 
orchestra were covered with coloured paper; a very 
small, light festoon, of fringed crimson moreen, hang- 
ing as a finish from the cushions on the ledges. 
These who heard the music in'York Cathedral, in 1825, 
declare that, with about the same number of performers, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


295 
but in an area more than double that of Westminster 
Abbey, and of course requiring a proportionate body of 
sound to fill it, the effect was @reater than that just 


witnessed in the capital of the empire. 
As a set-off against the assumed deficiencies, it is 


admitted that the performers, on the present occasion, | 


excelled in every way those who formed the orchestra 
on the different festivals at the close of the last century. 
The force employed in the full pieces amounted to 591: 
and the band generally, both instrumental and vocal, 
can only be mentioned in terms of the highest praise. 
On the first day, Tuesday, June 24th, very shortly 
after the doors were opened, the place was crowded,— 
their Majesties arriving about a quarter, past twelve, 
accompanied by the Duchess of Kent, the Princess 
Victoria, and other illustrious personages. The scene 
was certainly imposing ;—the symmetrical appearance 
of the vast orchestra,—the number of distinguished. 
personages present,—the great audience, amounting 
to nearly three thousand, displaying rank, fashion, and 
beauty, all contributed to produce emotions of a mixed 
and powerful kind. 

The performance on the first day consisted of 
Handel’s Coronation Anthem, ‘ Zadok the Priest ;’ 
Haydn’s oratorio of the Creation ; and selections from 
Handel’s oratorio of Sampson. On the second day 
(June 26) was given, first a miscellaneous selection 
from the works of Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, Haydu, 
and Sir John Stevenson, and Handel’s oratorio of Israel 
in Eeypt. The third day was a miscellaneous selection ; 
the first part being from Handel’s oratorio of Judas 
Maccabeus; the other two parts being selected from 
the works of Handel, Mozart, Beethoven, Haydn, 
Pergolesi, Leo, Himmel, and Purcell,—this appears 
to have been the least attractive of the performances, 
and, though well attended, the tickets are stated not to 
have been so eagerly sought after as on the other days. 
The fourth performance (on Tuesday, July 1) closed 
the Festival, with Handel’s magnificent oratorio of the 
Messiah, with the additional accompaniments of 
Mozart. ‘This, it is stated, was performed at the par- 
ticular desire of the Queen, though it is difficult to 
imagine how on a Commemoration of Handel it could 
have been possibly omitted. It was on the whole 
executed in a manner to give great and general satis- 
faction, and was very fully attended. 

in order to the better understanding of the engraving 
in the following page, we give the description of the 
arrangements as detailed in the ‘ Supplement to the 
Musical Library,’ No. 6 :— 

“Phe nave of the Abbey is 159 feet long, and, in- 
cluding the aisles, seventy-two feet wide: its height 
L01 feet. This space was converted into a grand 
saloon, at the west end of which was erected the or- 
chestra, rising from about eight feet from the floor to 
the middle of the great window; the principal singers, 
and the instrumental performers, occupying the nave 
part,—the chorus fillmg the portion in the aisles up 
to the tops of the arches. At the east end the royal 
box was placed, on the right and left of which were 
boxes for the, court attendants. Below these were, on 
the right a box for the bench of bishops, on the left 
one for the dean and prebendaries of the church, and, in 
the centre, just below their Majesties, the eight directors 
took their seats. At the same end, and at the back ot 
the line of royal boxes, arose galleries, not included in 
the onginal plan, appropriated to the friends of the 
directors. In_each aisle was built a long, deep gallery, 
extending from the orchestra to the royal boxes, and 
projecting from the wall to about three feet beyond the 
columns. ‘The galleries contained several rows of seats, 
rising to the key-stones of the urches. The aisles below 
were fitted up in a.manner similar to the galleries. 


|The whole floor was covered by planks of wood; and 


296 


in the nave, allowing a passage on each side, were 
ranged thirty-eight rows of transverse benches, each 
holding sixteen persons.” 

A minute description cannot be given in our limited 
space; but we believe the effect produced by the 
Festival was very great, if we may judge from the 
ay eats Se aE aoe wish that it 


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Vou, III 


190. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


298 


Tue very evil-custom of interring the dead in and near. 


the places devoted to public worship is, to the best of 
our knowledge, peculiar to Christian countries. Its 
introchiction seems to have becn very early; for we find 
interments within cities altogether prohibited by an 
edict of the Emperor Theodosius, in which it is very 
truly stated that such a practice is injurious to the 
public health, while monuments by the way-side pre- 
scnt salutary memorials to the traveller. A person 
infringing this law forfeited a third of his patrimony ; 
and an undertaker directing a funeral contrary to this 
prohibition was fined forty pounds of gold. 

But when cliurches were built over the bodies or 
ashes of saints and martyrs, or their remains were trans- 
lated to the churches, a strong desire began to be felt 
that the dead should receive the protection and bencfit 
of such sacred neighbourhoods, _,Thcrefore, first the 
cler~y, then kings and persons of rank, aud at last the 
common people, were interred at first round about the 
church, then in open places attached to the outward wall, 
which were called “ Galilees,’” and at last within the 
church itself. The facility which the proximity of the 
craves to the churches afforded the clergy in performing 
the customary rites for the dead, not a little contributed 
to the introduction and continuance of the custom. It is 
said to have been introduced into this country from 
Rome about the middle of the eighth century, by 
Cuthbert, archbishop of Canterbury, so far as church- 
yard cemeteries are concerned. Lanfranc, also arch- 
bishop of Cantcrbury, is stated to have been the first 
who brought in the practice of vaults in chancels, and 
under the very altars, when he had rebuilt the church 
of Canterbury, about the year 1075. But there is no 
doubt that graves in churches, for the clergy at least, 
existed at a much earlier period in this country: wit- 
ness the story of the re-appearance of St. Dunstan, to 
complain of the annoyance he underwent from the 
interment of the son of Earl Harold in the same church 
with him. However, from the time of Lanfranc, the 
practice seems to have prevailed in London without in- 
terruption until the Great Fire in 1666, which effected 
avery complete destruction of the churches, and, together 
with them, of the contents of the vaults and church- 
yards attached to them. The evil of the practice had be- 
come apparent before that event, and considerate people 
lamented that advantage was not taken of the calamity 
to introduce a better system. ‘‘I cannot but deplore,” 
says Evelynin his ‘ Sylva,’ * that when that spacious 
area was so long a rasa tabula, the church-yards had 
not been banished to the north walls of the city, where 
a grated inclosure, of competent breadth for a mile in 
length, might have served for an universal cemetery to 
all the parishes, distinguished by the lke separations, 
and with ample walks of trees, the walks adorned with 
monuments, inscriptions, and titles, apt for contempla- 
tion and memory of the defunct.” That this, or some- 
thing like this, was not then done cannot seem very 
surprising, when we perccive that, at this more en- 
lightened day, people exhibit no ‘great alacrity in avail- 
ing themselves of advantages somewhat resembling 
those which the excellent Evelyn wished to afford. 

Within some of the metropolitan churches there are 
regular graves under the aisles and the pews, the same 
as in church-yards; in others, “ pits,” or vaults, (not 
bricked, but of earth,) the entrance into which is from 
within the building. In otlers, the vents of the vaults 
are actually within the church. Thus in various ways 
pestilential effluvia are sent through the buildmg. A 
candle will not always burn in the vaults beneath, and 
it is sometimes necessary ‘to leave the entrance to them 
open for several hours before it is considered safe to enter. 
Mr. Carden, in his petition to parliament cn the subject 
of a general cemetery, speaks of one church in which 


he understood that the use of fires had been abandoned, | 


-* 


- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{Auausr 2, 


owing to the increased effluvium which was found to 
arise from the vaults under the church; and, in another 
part of the petition, the same gentleman, who has given 
1auch attention to this subject, states that, in the year 
1825, he entered the vaults of St. Dunstan’s church in 
Fleet Street, and found that the dead were there de- 
posited in coffins of wood only, and saw the coffins 
below crushed by others placed upon them, and the 
remains of a recently-interred corpse forced in part out 
of the coffin, and in a state of decomposition too disgust- 
ing to be described. Even if this were a singular 
accident, still a system under which such accidents 
could occur ought not to be maintained. 

The invariable use of lead coffins might, in some 
measure, prevent such effects as we have stated; but it 
has been ascertained that in the vaults of a city church, 
where lead coffins were always required, tlie air had 
become so vitiated, that lighted candles attempted to be 
carried in were immediately extinguished. It appears, 
in fact, that 1o arrangements can make it cease to be 
an evil to bring together the bodies of the dead where 
the living inhabit and congregate. Under the best 
arrangements which might, by careful vaulting and 
excluding all communication with the interior of the 
church, keep it tolerably free from the taint, still the 
surrounding air must be contaminated by the effluvia 
escaping through the open gratings made to render the 


vaults in any degree fit for entrance; thus effecting 


no more than a transference of the nuisance from the 
church to the church-yard. 

But the church-yard itself is a great nuisance, par- 
ticularly when closely hemmed in by houses on all sides, 
as is usually the case in London.‘ The burial-grounds 
are of such limited extent, and have been so long in 
use, that instances are related in which a lightec 
candle will not burn when placed in a newly-opencd 
grave, or even upon the thrown-up soil. ‘In large 
towns,” says the ‘ Quarterly Review,’ ‘‘ and more 
especially in the metropohs, it has become more difficult 
to find room for the dead than the living. The Com- 
missioners for the Improvements in Westminster re- 
ported to parliament, in 1814, that St. Margaret’s 
church-yard could not, consistently with the health of 
the neighbourhood, be used much longer as a burying- 
eround, for that it was with the greatest difficulty a 
vacant place could at any time be found for strangers : 
the family-graves generally would not admit of more 
than one interment, and many of them were too full for 
the reception of any member of the family to which they 
belonged. There are many church-yards in which the 
soil has been raised several feet above the level of the 
adjoining street by the continual accumulation of 
mortal matter; and there are others in which the 
ground is actually probed with a borer before a grave 
is opened! Many tons of human bones are every year 
sent from London to the north, where they are crushed 
in mills contrived for the purpose, and used as manure. 
Yet with all this clearance, the number of the dead 
increases in such frightful disproportion to the space 
which we allot for them, that the question has been 
started whether a sexton may not refuse to admit iron 
coffins into a burial-place, because by this means the 
deceased take a fee simple in the ground which was 
only granted for a term of years? A curious expedient 
has been found at Shields and Sunderland. The ships, 
which return to these ports in ballast, were at a loss 
where to discharge it, and had of late years been com- 
pelled to pay for the use of the ground on which they 
threw it out. The burial-grounds were full: it was 
recollected that the ballast would be useful there, and 
accordingly it has been laid upon one layer of dead to 
such a depth ‘that graves for a second tier are now dug 
in the new soil.” When, for the sake of gaining room, 
a greater depth is required, it frequently happens that 


1834.] 


% passage is opened through ground already te- 
nanted. . 

These facts certainly warrant the conclusion that the 
vaults and graves are insufficient for the increased and 
increasing population of the metropolis; and from this 
insufficiency circumstances result which are revolting, 
whether considered with regard to the public health, or 
to that decency and respect with which surviving friends 
very properly desire that the remains of the dead should 
be treated. Public attention has, of late years, been 
in various ways drawn to this important subject, and we 
doubt not that every thing has been done for the best 
which the continuance of the evil itself allowed. Bunt 
the ouly effectual remedy is the complete discontinuance 
of the existing practice. We are happy to find that 
interments in vaults under churches begins to be dis- 
couraged, and in some instances are not allowed. And 
we understand that the commissioners for building the 
new churches could rarely obtain sites for the purpose, 
until they altogether abandoned the intention of having 
cemeteries in connexion with such churches. This very 
proper determination was very general among the 
owners of land in London; and it is in consequence of 
this that few of these churches have ground attached to 
them; and, where there is an open space, the parishes 
ave strictly bound ivi to use it for purposes of burial : 
uevertheless, it appears from a recent return on the 
subject made to parliament, that several of the new 
churches which have no church-yards have vaults 
underneath the building. | . 

After these statements, we should much regret to have 
to say that nothing had been done towards the introduc- 
tion of a better system. But something has already been 
effected, and more has been planned. We shall, in the 
present paper, confine our attention to the measure 
which has been brought into actual operation under 
the direction of the General Cemetery Company. ‘The 
cemetery established by this body must now, and in 
future time, be rewarded with peculiar interest, as the 
first practical attempt to remedy a great public incon- 
venience. ‘The metropolis, however, will not be entitled 
to claim the merit of having first introduced this im- 
portant public improvement of detached public ceme- 
teries into this country; since such cemeteries had 
been previously established at Liverpool, Manchester, 
and other places. 

We believe that the public attention was first, in our 
own time, strongly drawn to the necessity of esta- 
blishine detached cemeteries for the metropolis, by 
Mr. G, F. Carden; and after long-continued exertions 
by that gentlemen, dating as far back as 1824 or 1825, 
an Act was passed, in 1832, “ for establishing a 
general cemetery for the interment of the dead in the 
vicinity of the metropolis.” ‘This Act invests the Asso- 
ciation with the usual privileges of an incorporated 
body, and authorizes it to do what it has since in a 


wreat measure accomplished, and which we shall now 


preceed to describe with rather more brevity than 
would have been desirable, had we not recently de- 
scribed the cemetery of Pére la Chaise, which afforded 
the model that seems to have been as closely as possible 
followed in the Kensall-Green Cemetery. 

Previous to the passing of the Act of Incorporation 
a very eligible piece of land had been provided, consist- 
ing of forty-eieht acres, and situated on a rising ground 
to the north-west of the metropolis, abont a mile and a 
half beyond Paddington, on the Harrow road. From 
this spot, which extends between the road and the 
Paddington canal for about a quarter of a mile, a very 
delightful view, bounded by the Surrey hills, is com- 
manded over the western environs of the metropolis. 
That this view may not be excluded, the high wall 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


299 


inclosed, is laid out in gravelled roads of sufficient 
width for carriages, and planted with forest trees, ever- 
creens, and other shrubs and flowers. J 

An arched gateway is placed towards the eastern ex- 
tremity of the cemetery, and conducts into the unconse- 
crated ground, which has been appropriated to the inter- 
ment of persons whose friends desire a funeral ceremony 
different from that of the Church of England. This 
spot consists at present of about four acres. Only three 
interments have as yet taken place there; but the finest 
building that the cemetery at present affords has been 
erected on it. This is the Chapel for the performance 
of burial rites. It occupies the centre of a colonnade, 
and the front presents a pediment supported by four 
columns of the Ionic order. Its interior arrangements 
are neat, but perfectly simple, and well adapled to the 
purpose for which it is intended. ) 

The unconsecrated ¢round in the Kensall-Green Ceme- 
tery is separated from the consecrated by a sunk fence. 
Looking westward from this line of separation over the 
consecrated ground, the visitor has before him a lone 
vista of slightly-ascending ground, the termination of 
which is concealed by trees and shrubs. We have 
already stated how the spot is laid out. ‘There is not 
much in the first view to inform a person of the pur- 
poses to which the place is devoted. The ground was 
only opened in the early part of 1833, and since then 
we are Informed that 193 interments have taken place ; 
but many of these are in the subterranean catacombs ; 
and those in the open ground are so dispersed that the 
monuments are by no means the first objects to attract 
the eye. We did not give anything like a detailed 
attention to the graves, but we were most interested by 
a lowly grave covered in with cut stones, and with 
myrtles planted around: ‘*'T’o the best of mothers, who 
reposes here in peace,” is the simple inscription, in the 
French language. 

‘The most conspicuous objects in this part of the 
cemetery are the chapel and the colonnade. The chapel 
stands nearly in the centre of the ground, and is in- 
tended for the performance of the burial service 
according to the rites of the Church of England. 1t 
is a very appropriate little building, though not so 
large or so handsome as that in the unconsecrated 
ground; but we were informed that it is only a tem- 
porary structure, a site having been reserved for the 
erection of another on a move extended scale. 

Along part of the northern boundary-wall a series 
of catacombs extends, which are at present calculated 
to contain about 2000 coffins. ‘The line of these vaults 
is indicated, above ground, by a colonnade of Greek 
architecture, designed for the reception and preservation 
of tablets and other monuments in memory of the 
persons whose bodies are deposited underneath. ‘The 
coffins intended to be deposited in the catacombs are 
received upon a sort of platform, which descends slowly 
during the performance of the funeral ceremony ; and 
they are afterwards conveyed by machinery through 
the subterranean passage to the places where they are 
to be laid. - ' 

The employment of leaden coffins is indispensable in 
the catacombs, and in vaults or brick graves in the 
erounds; but in common graves in the grounds, pur- 
chased in perpetuity, the coffins may be of lead or wood 
at the option of the purchaser. When, however, the 
perpetual right to a grave is not purchased, the coffin 
must be of wood only. In the latter case, also, monu- 
ments cannot be placed upon the grave; but when the 
perpetual right is purchased, any monument may be 
erected without additional charge. The right to a 
grave purchased in perpetuity is so well defined, that it 
may be the subject of a bequest by will, or an assign- 


whicli incloses the cemetery is In some parts broken | ment, In the same manner as other property. It is 
by an iron railing of equal height. The eround, thus | important to state this, because in the ordinary church- 


2Q 2 


800 


ards it is impossible to secure a grave in perpetuity at 
all, unless by the expensive means of a faculty; and 
consequently the mere placing of a monument upon a 
grave does not prevent its being afterwards used for 
persons not members of the family. 

We have thus stated the points which seem of lead- 
ing interest or importance in this establishment; and 
although, in the great extent of ground it affords, not 
more than 193 interments have taken place in a year 
and a half, while we could indicate a burial-ground of 
less than two acres in the metropolis in whicli upwards 
of 500 bodies were interred in the year 1832*; 
yet, considering the prejudices that were to be over- 
come, the encouragement which the new cemetery has 
received already is greater than we should have ex- 
pected. We make no question that many years will 
not elapse before such suburban cemeteries will have 
completely superseded those which now make the dead 
divide the largest city of Europe with the hving. But 
such cemeteries can hardly be brought into full opera- 
tion until the chief inducement, among the labouring 
classes, to the interment of the dead in the nearest 
sround has been removed, by diminishing the expense 
and labour of conveyance to a more distant place. We 
do not see why the persons connected with the ceme- 
teries might not themselves organize a system of con- 
veyance, with a scale of various prices and vehicles, 
which might afford to all but the extreme poor the 
means of decently but cheaply conveying their dead 
to ‘‘ the house appointed for all living.” 

We understand that it is in contemplation to establish 
another cemetery, also on the plan of Pére la Chaise, 
at Bayswater, about two miles from Oxford Street, on 
the Uxbridge Road. In describing that which is 
already established, we have, however, exhausted the 


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(Colonnade over the Catacombs at Kensall Green.} 


* From a recent parliamentary return, it appears that in ]34 
parish-churches and burial-grounds, 24,606 bodies were interred in 
1832; yet the collective extent of accommodation amounted to no 
more than 113 acres, little more than double that afforded by the 


single cemetery at Kensall Green. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Aueusr 2, 


space we can afford to give to the subject, and the 
difference between it and the one proposed does not 
appear to be so considerable as to require a separate 
notice. 





THIRST QUENCHED WITHOUT DRINKING. 


It may not he generally known to our readers that water, 
even salt water, imbibed through the skin appeases thirst 
almost as well as fresh water taken inwardly. In illustra- 
tion of this subject, a correspondent has sent us the follow- 
ing abridged quotation from a ‘ Narrative of Captain Ken- 
nedy’s losing his Vessel, and his Distresses afterwards,’ 
which was noticed in ‘ Dodsley’s Annual Register for 1769.’ 
“TI cannot conclude without making mention of the great 
advantage I received from soaking my clothes twice a day 
in salt water, and putting them on without wringing. It 
was a considerable time before I could make the people 
comply with this measure, although from seeing the good 
effects produced, they afterwards practised it twice a day of 
their own accord. To this discovery I may with justice at- 
tribute the preservation of my own life and six other per- 
sons, who must have perished if it had not been put in use. 
The hint was first communicated to me from the perusal of 
a treatise written by Dr. Lind... The water absorbed through 
the-pores of the skin produced in every respect the same 
effect as would have resulted from the moderate drinking of 
any liquid. The saline particles, however, which remained 
in our clothes became incrusted by the heat of the sun and 
that of our own bodies, lacerating our skins and being 
otherwise inconvenient; but we found that by washing out 
these particles, and frequeatly wetting our clothes without 
wringing twice in the course of a day, the skin became well 
in a short time. - After these operations we uniformly found 
that the violent drought went off, and the parched tongue 
was cured in a few minutes after bathing and washing our 
clothes ; and at the same time we found ourselves as much 
refreshed as if we had received some actual nourishment. 
Four persons in the boat who drank salt water went deli- 
rious and died; but those who avoided this and followed the 
above practice experienced no such symptoms.” 


Effect of the Atmosphere on Hair.—My own beard, 
which in Europe was soft, silky, and almost straight, began 
immediately after my arrival at Alexandria to curl, to grow 
crisp, strong, and coarse; and before I reached Iis-Souan 
resembled hare hair to the touch, and was all disposed in 
ringlets about the chin. This is, no doubt, to be accounted 
for by the extreme dryness of the air, which, operating 
through several thousand years, has, in the intericr, 
changed the hair of the negro into a kind of coarse wool.— 
St. John's Travels. 


Life prolonged by Civilization —lIf we collect England, 
Germany, and Ifrance, in one group, we find that the 
average term of mortality which, in that great and populous 
region, was formerly one in thirty people annually, is not 
at present more than one in thirty-eight. This difference 
reduces the number of deaths throughout these countries 
from 1,900,000 to less than 1,200,000 persons ; and 700,000 
lives, or one in eighty-three annually, owe their preserva- 
tion to the social ameliorations effected in the three countries 
of western Europe whose efforts to obtain this object have 
been attended with the greatest success. The life of man is 
thus not only embellished in its course by the advancement 
of civilization, but is extended by it and rendered less 
doubtful. The effects of the amelioration of the social con- 
dition are to restrain and diminish, in proportion to the 


‘population, the annuait number of births, and in a still 


preater degree that of deaths; on the contrary, a great 
number of births, equalled or even exceeded by that of 
deaths, is a characteristic sign of a state of barbarism. In 
the former case, aS men In a mass reach the plenitude of 
their physical and social development, the population 1s 
strong, intelligent, and manly; while it remains in per- 
petual infancy, whole generations are swept off without 
being able to profit by the past,—to bring social economy to 
perfection.—LPAtlosophical Journal 





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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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. |‘ Descent from the Cross,’ by Rubens. } 
As the fourteenth Number of the ‘ Penny Magazine’ | on his style, with some account of the painting more 
contains a Memoir of Rubens, with some notice of the | immediately under our notice. In discharging the 
wonderful facility with which his works were executed, | former duty, we cannot do better than avail ourselves 
we have only to append to our wood-cut of his famous 


of the general character of Rubens as a painter which 
victure of the ‘ Descent from the Cross,’ a few remarks | has been given by Sir Joshua Reynolds. {fe considers 





301 


302 


that in the works of Rubens the art of the painter is 
frequently too apparent, and then proceeds to say— 
“ His figures have expression, aud act with energy, but 
without simplicity or dignity. His colouring, in which 
he was eminently skilled, is, notwithstanding, too much 
of what we call tinted. Throughout the whole of his 
works there is a proportionable want of that nicety of 
distinction and elegance of mind which is required in 
the higher walks of painting ; and to this want it may 
in some degree be ascribed, that those qualities which 
make the excellence of this subordinate style appear in 
him in their greatest lustre. Indeed, the facility with 
which he invented, the richness of his composition, the 
luxuriant harmony and brilliancy of his colouring, so 
dazzled the eye, that, while his works continue before 
us, we cannot help thinking that all his deficiencies are 
fully supplied.” 

Most of the works of Rubens indicate the rich and 
splendid tone of his imagination. He seems on all oc- 
easions to liave abandoned himself almost cutirely to 
his own feelings, and to have been guided exclusively 
by his own impressions, deriving less assistance per- 
haps than any other painter from-..sourees out of him- 
self. He is, therefore, eminently original; and if, in 
all his numerous works, a few instances can be found 
in which he has copied the ideas of other painters, it 
is evident how well they have been digested, and 
how skilfully adapted to the rest of his composition. 
His paintings abound in defects as well as beauties ; 
but they possess the attribute peeuliar to the works of 
true genius, that of commanding attention and enforcing 
admiration. It is difficult to say which branch of his 
art Rubens cultivated with most success. In history, 
portraiture, animals, landscape, or still life, his brilliant 
imagination and skilful execution are equally apparent. 
His animals, particularly his lions and horses, are so 
admirable, that it has been said they were never so pro- 
perly, or at least so poetically painted as by him. ~ His 
portraits rank with the best produetions of those who 
made that branch of the art their exclusive study; and 
in his landscapes, which combine the lustre of Claude 
Lorraine with the grandeur of Titian, the picturesque 
forms of his rocks and trees, the deep tones in his 
shady glades and glooms, the sunshine, the dewy ver- 
dure, the airiness and facility of his touch, exhibit a 
charin and variety of invention which fascinate the ob- 
server. In the mechanical part of his art, Sir Joshua 
Reynolds thought Rubens the greatest master that ever 
existed. His defects, which are neither few nor unim- 
portant, eonsist ehiefiy of inelegance and incorrectness 
of form ; a want of grace in his female figures, of which 
that buxom one of Salome, in the present picture, is an 
instance. All his subjects, of whatever class, are equally 
invested with the gay colours of spring. <A very gene- 
ral want of sublime and poetical conception of charac- 
ter may also be discovered in his pictures; and the 
oood taste of the mixture of truth and fiction presented 
in his famous allegorical pieces has been strongly ques- 
tioned by some writers. ‘There is, perhaps, no painter 
whose style has been so much described and discussed 
as that of Rubens; but we must now leave this for a 
more particular consideration of the picture before us, 
the following account of whieh is derived, with some 
abridgment, from the article which, in the ‘ Musée Fran- 
cais,’ illustrates the engraving from which our wood- 
cut is eopied. 

This picture is one of*the most eelebrated of Rubens’ 
productions. It was painted by him for the cathedral 
of Antwerp; where Mr. Beckford informs us that he 
saw it in the year 1780, and adds :—" A swingeing 
St. Christopher, fording a brook with a ehild on his 
shoulders, eannot fail of attracting attention. This 
-eolossal personage is painted on the folding doors that 
conceal the grand effort of art Just mentioned from 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{ AuGusT 2, 


vulgar eyés; and here Rubens has selected a very 
proper subject to display the gigantic boldness of his 
pencil.” After the picture had remained 200 years at 
Antwerp, it was transferred to Paris, and formed one of 
the chief ornaments of the Gallery of the Louvre for the 
twenty years previons to 1815, when it was comprised 
among the numerous works of art which were restored 
to their original owners. The painting was executed by 
Rubens soon after his return from his seven years’ resi- 
dence in Italy, and while the impression made by the 
works of Titian and Paul Veronese was yet fresh in his 
mind. ‘The great master appeared in the fulness of his 
olory in this work—it 1s one of the few which exhibits 
in combination all that nature had given him of warmth 
and imagination, with all that he had acquired of know- 
ledge, judgment, and method; and in which he may be 
considered fully to have overcome the difficulties of a 
subject which becomes painful and almost repulsive 
when it eeases to be sublime. 

When, in viewing the original of the splendid work, 
the general charaeter of which alone our wood-cut can 
aspire to exhibit, the mind can descend to details, from 
the first grand. impression it cannot fail to make, new 
beauties an fections are discovered, and the only em- 
ployllent'os the informed judgment is to sanction the 
feeling whieh the first impression created. 

AS ttention 1s directed in succession to the prin- 
cipal Ag reiagt at of Christ claims the strongest admi- 
ration, Death can hardly be more touchinely exhi- 
bited than in’ that pale, drooping, and blood-stained 
body. .Then our notice descends to the natural ac- 
tion of all the characters, and the vivid expression of 
their love and grief. When we proceed to examine thie 
structure and execution of this splendid work, we find 
that a single pyramidal group exhibits around Christ, 
upon a somewhat circular base, the three Maries and 
five of the disciples, all occupied in the same action. 
Two of the disciples, mounted upon the €ross, let down 
the body of Jesus, which descends in an inclined pos- 
ture, one of: the disciples har*ne just relinquished the 
hold which the other retains. Joseph of Arimathza, a 
little less elevated than these two disciples, supports the 
declining body under the arm; while the beloved disci- 
ple, placed on the ground, receives in his arms the de- 
scending eorpse of his Lord. The Virgin, full of tears 
and weakened by her sorrows, raises the maternal hands 
which nursed him when a child, and seems to seek one 
last eonsolation in embracing what remains of her Son 
and Lord. ‘The obscurity of the horizon announces the 
sympathy of nature ; while, notwithstanding, a light falls 
from the midst of the clouds upon the body of Christ, 
and gradually spreads itself over the immediateh 
rounding objects. ‘The head, the body, and the left a 























which Rubens ever executed. The vast white drapery 
intended to envelope the sacred body, and spreading 
from the summit to the foot of the eross, serves as a 
base to this noble figure, and relieves, by its transparent 
reflection, the prevailing yellowish and azure tints. 
This same white drapery is skilfully employed to sus- 
tain the general harmony, by fixing the most elear and 
vivid light on the centre of the group. By this contri- 
vance of the painter all the colours acquire a new in- 
tensity, and an eminently pieturesque opposition has 
been established in all the prineipal parts. 

The red tint of the tunie of St. John, and the green 
drapery of Mary Magdalen, contrasted with the pale 
body of the Saviour, heighten, the apparent projection 
of the group in front; while the blue mantle of the 
Virgin, half of which is in shade, the blue and purple 
tone of the vestments of Joseph of Arimathza, and of 
the disciple who is seen in the right, serves to round of 
the sides. In painting this picture Rubens seems to 
have determined to try by a grand experiment the ful 








1834. }] 


of Titian, that a group should present the effect ofva 
cluster of grapes. ‘To this expcriment he was also in- 
vited by his subject, which he has adorned with all the 
beauties of exccution of which it was susceptible. 

After this statement, the famc even of Rubens will 
allow it to be said, that this admirable work is in some 
respects faulty and imperfect. But in considering the 
head and body of Christ, the heads of the Virgin and 
Joseph’ of Arimathwa, the touch, the chiaro-scuro, and 
the general effect of the whole, minute criticism is dis- 
armed, 


epee 


Effect of Fear on a Tiger.—A. correspondent transmits 
to us the following curious anecdote, extracted from a letter 
received from India :—* During the dreadful storm and in- 
undation in Bengal, in May, 1833, the estates of a Mr. 
Campbell, situated on the island of Sauger, at the entrance 
of the river Hoogly, suffered so greatly, that out of three 
thousand people living ‘on his grounds only six or seven 
hundred escaped, and these principally by clinging to the 
roof and ceiling of his house. When the house was in this 
close, crammed state, with scarcely room within it for an- 
other individual, what should come squeezing and pushing 
its way into the interior of the house but an immense tiger, 
with his tail hanging down, and exhibiting every other 
symptom of excessive fear. Having reached the room in 
which Mr. Campbell was sitting, he nestled himself into 
one of the corners, and lay down like a large Newfound- 
land dog. Mr. Campbell loaded his gun in a very quiet 
manner, and shot him dead on the spot.” 


OLD TRAVELLERS. 
Wiiiram pr Rusruquis.—wNo. II. 

Our enterprising monk complains, at a very carly 
Stage of his journey, of the quality and small quantity 
of food allowed him by the Tartars, and, soon after, of 
the rapidity with which they made him travel. He 
says, they ate all sorts-of flesh, even that of animals 
dead hy diseases He seems, however, to have con- 
quered his aversion to horse-flesh, and informs us that 
the sausages the Tartars made of the intestines of their 
horscs were better than pork-sausages 

With their train of waggons they travelled for several 
weeks across the steppes which hebarate the Dnieper 
from the Tanais, or River Don. Near to the latter 
river, they found the great Sartach, of whom they were 
in search, and who, without professing himself a Chris- 
tian, recommended them to go on to his father, or 
father-in-law, the still greater Baatu. Aftcr many sore 
fatigues, they reached the encampment of Baatu; but 
even he could not treat with them, or so much as grant 








them "permission to stay in the country. He however 
gave them a civil audience, and sent them forward in 
search of Manchu-khan, the great Tartar emperor, who 


was to be found somewhere in the dircction of China. 
For five weeks they followed the banks of the Volga, 
walking on foot nearly all the way. Thcy then left 
that river and went towards the River Jaik. About 
this part of their journey they were mounted. We are 
not informed what became of the ox-waggons with thcir 
luggage, &c.; but these matters were already so much 
reduced by the rapacity of the different tribes they met, 
that they were probably left behind. 

While on the road, the friar and his companions were 


obliged to keep their horses almost always at full] 


gallop, in order not to be left behind in the desert by 
their conductors. This break-neck spced was ill suited 
to the previous sedentary, slow, measurcd habits of the 
monks. Some friars, who had attempted this mission 


before Rubruquis, gave it up in despair when they] 


found they had to gallop all day long, and many days 
following, without rest, likes Tartar couriers. The 


youth and good constitution of Father William"were 
in his favour; yet it was»no ordinaryyexploit for a 


*. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 






303 


relivious recluse, who, in all probability, had never been 
on the back of a horse before, and who says of himself 
that he was corpulent and heavy, to keep up with these 
flying Pagans, who might almost be said to be born on 
horseback. Where they met with an encampment they 
changed their horses, but this did not happen more 
than two or three times a-day, and yct the monk says 
they went thirty leagues daily. Sometimes, indeed, 
they travelled two or three days together without find- 
ing any people or horses, and then they were cen- 
strained not to ride so fast. Scattered here and there 
in the wide countries he was traversing, Rubruquis 
found a few Christians, who were chiefly Hungarians, 
that had been carried off during the incursions of the 
Tartars into Europe. From these men he reccived 
great kindness. One of them understood Latin and 
psalm-singing, in consequence of which he was in great. 
request at funerals. He also mct with the native of a 
remote part of Asia, who had ‘earned the rudiments of 
Christianity from a monk of Rubrugquis’ own order 
while in Hungary with a Tartar army. As he went 
farther on, he met with people in greater numbers, 
professing themselves Nestorian Christians; but these, in 
sober truth, were little better than the idolaters among 
whom they lived.. It is scarccly necessary to say, that 
Prester John and the great united Christian com- 
munity he was in search of were nowhere to be found. 
In his intercourse with the Tartars he zcalously 
attemptcd the task of’conversion ; and those wanderers 
appear at that time to have been so tolerant, and to 
have had so much respect for many of the forms and 
ceremonies of the Catholic church, that his mission, in 
this way also, might not have proved unprofitable. 
But Rubruquis was ignorant of their language, and 
unfortunate in the dragoman, or interpreter, he tock 
with him. ‘This fellow had no taste for sermons, “‘ And 
thus,’ says the worthy traveller, ‘* it caused me great 
chagrin when [ wished to address to them a few words 
of edification, for he would say to me, ‘ You shall not 
make me preach to-day; I understand nothing” of all ~ 
you tell mc” ‘ Andthen,” the friar adds, “he spoke, 
the truth ; for afterwards, as 1 began to understand a 
little of their tongue, I pcrcecived that when I told him 
one thing he repeated another, just according tc hi 
fancy. ‘Therefore, seeing it was no use to talk or 
preach, I held my tongue.” This interpreter, more- 
over, was so fond of fermented mare’s milk, that he was 
generally intoxicated. __ - 
Rubruquis, however, found the T'artars very fond of 
the symbol of the Cross, and of being blessed in the 
Christian fashion. Wherever he went he was asked for 
his bénddicit¢é. With the existence of the great head of 
the Catholic church they were well acquainted; his 
name had reached the farthest corners of the Kast: but 
these ‘Tartars had much the same notion as to the 
pontiff’s longevity that is entertained by certain Asiatics 
of our own day with regard to the age of the East- 
India Company, which said Company they fancy to be 
one very old woman. ‘The Tartars asked Rubruquis if 
the pope was indeed 500 years old! They likewise 
inquired whether, in the European countrics the monks 
came from, there was an abundance of sheep, oxen, 
and horses? ‘Their minute inquiries on this head, and 
the eagerness they showed for the acquisition of wealth, 
gave the friar some uneasiness, as he apprehended 
(what indeed, at the time, was not unlikely) that their 
numerous hordes would roll on from the Danubc to tlie 
Tiber and the Seine, pillaging and devastating the best 
parts of Christendom. 
Meanwhile} as the monks proceeded on their journey, 
‘ of hunger and thirst, cold and fatigue, there was uo 
end.” In places where horses were scarce, two of them 
were sometimes obliged to ride on one animal, and to 
keep him up with “ ercat beating and whipping.’ 


3U4 


‘Neither yet,” says Rubruquis, “durst I complain, 
although my horse trotted full sore, for every man was 
bound 1 to be contented with his lot as it fell.” 

Although these details, when set down in words, and 
coupled with the figure of a “ corpulent heavy monk” 
on a’lartar saddle, may be somewhat ludicrous, there 
is a sort of moral sublimity in the total sacrifice of self 
and the readiness with which Rubruquis devotes himself 
to the discharge of his mission. This good man was 
upheld at once by the enterprising spint of a true 
traveller, and by the relieious faith that was in him. 

After they had travelled for months, and been almost 
exhausted by fatigue and privation, the Tartars told 
the monks that they had yet a journey of four more 
months to perform before they could reach the court 
of the great khan; and, exaggerating in Oriental 
fashion the severity of climate that is felt in many 
parts of the table-land in central Asia, they added that, 
in the regions through which they would have to pass, 
if they went onwards, the cold was S0 intense that it 
split rocks and trees. ‘“ Can you,’ * Anquired the Tar- 
tars, “ support all this?” “‘ By God’s help, we may !” 
said Rubruquis, answering for himself and his compa- 
nious; and on they went. 

The Pagans, however, had the ‘kindness to lend the 
monks some of their thick sheep-skin dresses, ‘which 
kept out the cold pretty well. But the quality of their 
food was not improved, and Rubruquis continues to 
complain of being obliged to eat, in sorrow and aneuish, 
meat only half cooked, and at tires quite raw, 

‘They passed through the courts or encampments of 
several Tartar princes, who were all much astonished 
that the monks would Accept: neither gold, nor silver, 
nor precious raiment. At almost every place where 
they stopped they scem to have secured the good will 
of the Tartars by sundry little services; and although’ 
the Pagans could not very well understand the nature 
of their vows of pover ty, or that of thcir monastic 
institutions, it appears that in general they respected 
theismotives | and the sacrifices they made’ for the 
furtherance of their religion. 

The information Rubruquis collected as he went on 
is very curious, and Is mingled with the accounts of his 
own adventures. He tells us, that for a visiter to touch 
the threshold of a Tartar’s door was considered as 
unauspicious, as, according to modern accounts, the 
Chinese hold it to be. Whenever he paid a visit he was 
warned to take care te cross over the threshold into the 
house or tent, without letting any part of his person or 
dress come in contact with it as such a contact was 
sure to bring bad luck. f 

** Concerning the garments and attire of these Tar. 
tars,’ says our old traveller, ‘* be it known that out of 
Cataya, and other regions of the East, out of Persia 
also, and other countries to the south, there are brought 
unto them stuffs of silk, cloths of sold, and cotton 
cloths, which they wear in time of summer; but out of 
Russia, Moxell, Bulearia the Greater, oid Hunearia 
the Greater, a out “of Kersis (all mich are norther n 
regions and full of woods), and also out of many other 
catntiies of the North which are subject to them, the 
inhabitants bring them rich and costly skins and furs 
of divers sorts (which J never saw in our countries), 
wherewithal they are: clad in winter.” Except in 
being somewhat longer, the dress of the women scarcely 
differed from that of the men. ‘The traveller goes on 
to inform us, that the ladies all rode on horseback, and 
astride like the men,—that when abroad they tied on 
a white veil, which crossed the nose just below the eyes, 
and descended as far as the breast. His description of 
their personal appearance is not very flattering. He 
says, they all daubed over their faces most nastily with 
grease,—that they were all amazingly fat, and the 


smaller their noses the more beautiful they were 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Auaust 2, 1834. 


esteemed. In one instance he fancied that the wife 
of a great lord must have cut off her nose to attain this 
beauty, for her face was so flat that he could see no 
trace of that feature,—a line of black grease existing 
where the nose ought to have been. No inan could 
have a wife unless he bought her of her parents, who 
oenerally sold their daughters to the highest bidder. 

The 'Tartars were expert hunters, and gained a good 
part of their sustenance by the chase. They hunted on 
the batiwe system. A vast multitude of them gathered 
tovether, and, spreading into a wide circle, surrounded 
the country; then, by gradually contracting this circle, 
they collected the included game into a small space, 
which the sportsmen entered and despatched their prey 
with spears and arrows. Rubruquis saw no deer, and 
very few hares, but many antelopes and wild sheep with 
prodi rious horns. Wild asses also abounded, but they 
were so shy and swift that they were rarely caught. 
The 'Tartars were likewise well acquainted with hawk- 
ine, having falcons, gyrialcons, and other trained birds 
in “abundance. 

Skins, wool, and horsehair were the main materials 
of the simple manufactures of this pastoral people. In 
the absence of hemp, they made strong ropes of sheep’s 
wool mixed with a third part of horschair. The felts 
that covered their houses and chests, as well as those 
they used as beds, the cloths they laid under their 
saddles, and the caps they wore on their heads'in rainy 
weather, were all made of the same materials. Vast 
quantities of wool were thus worked up. 

The penal code in: force‘ among these wandering 
tribes was sufficiently severe. Murder, adultery, and 
even fornication, were punished with, death »——but-a nan 
might do what he chose with his own slave. When a 
Tartar died, he was mourned for with violent howling, 
and his family was relieved from taxes . or: tribute 
to the chief.for a whole year. Most of the hordes 
raised a large barrow of earth over.the dead, and 
many of. those innumerable tumuli that are: found in 
the Crimea, in all that’ part of Europe between the 
Danube and the Don, in Asia Minor, and in other 
countries, and which closely resemble the tombs in the 
plains of Troy, may be safely attributed to the Tartars. 
The custom, however, is obvious and simple, and has, 
from remote antiquity, been common to many nations. 
The mounds, generally called druidical, that are found 
in many parts of our own island, differ in nothing from 
those the traveller meets with in Tartar y, or (except i in 
size) in the Troad.i ~~ . 

In some other burying-places in Tartary, Rubruquis 
saw large towers built of burnt bricks, and others of 
stone, though no stone was to be found near the spot. 
As he went farther east, he observed other kinds of sepul- 
chres, consisting of large open spaces paved with stone, 
having four large stones placed upright on the corners 
of the pavement, and facing the four cardinal points. 
Here again we are reminded of the druidical remains of 
our own country. 

Pursuing his tedious and most fatiguing route across 
the measureless flats and wilds of “Tartary, our old 
traveller, on the 26th of December, came to a smooth 
desert’ that looked like a sea, for it extended al. 
round to the horizon, and not a mountain, hill, or hil- 
lock, was anywhere visible. ‘The next day, with a 
joyful heart, he and his companions caught sight of 
the . grand khan’s court. They hoped to obtain there 
the rest and refreshment they so much needed, for, 
from the time of leaving the shores of the Black Sea, 
they had been seven months on their journey. 





*e" The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge 1s at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 





Printed by WitLram Clowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 


[AuGusrT 9, 1834. 





THE KALONG BAT.—(Pteropus 





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ow eae {The Kalong Bat. | 


ALTHOUGH it is our proper object in the present article 
to furnish, from Horsfield’s ‘ Zoology of Java,’ an ac- 
count of the particular species represented in our wood- 
cut, we cannot omit to avail ourselves of the opportunity 
of describing generally the structure’ and habitudes of 
the rather extensive family to which it belongs. 
According to the classification of Cuvier, bats con- 
stitute a family called Vespertiliones, of the sub-division 
Chetroptera, in the order of Carnassiers. The character- 
istics of the entire sub-division may be thus enumerated: 
—The fingers connected by a membraie, which spreads 
from the anterior to the posterior extremities, fitting 
the animals for flight. Incisory teeth’ variable in 
number; canine teeth more or less strong; grinders, 
in general having acute-pointed crowns, with a longitu- 
dinal furrow ; collar bones very strong; large shoulder 
iades; fore arms not capable of a rotatory motion ; 
and the breast furnished with two paps. This cha- 
racter of the sub-division will render intelligible the 
more detailed description of the bat family, which may 
be thus characterized: ~The toes or fingers of the 
fore-limbs are’much larger than those of the hinder, 
united by broad and very fine membraues, usually 
without claws; the thumb alone is separated, but is not 
opposable to: the other fingers, and is very short in 
proportion to them ; it is longest inthe genus Pleropus, 
and is always furnished with a strong and very sharp 
claw. The toes of the hinder feet are united, very 
short, and provided with very strong nails. The cutting 
teeth are sometimes wanting in one of the jaws, or 
vary, with the genus, from two to six; the canine 
teeth are for the most part very strong; and. the 


grinders have generally sharp protuberances, These 
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keen and pointed. teeth enable them to bite with much 
force, and those of a considerable age and size can 
inflict a very severe wound. The wing-like membrane 
is naked. Some species possess only the rudiments of 
a tail, whilst in others the tail is of considerable length. 
The ears are almost always large in proportion to the 
size of the animal, +. 

The bat tribe comprehends a great number of 
genera, species, and varieties, among which are found 
some very singular modifications of structure, in the 
form of the wing membranes, the figure and expansion 
of the ears, and the remarkable membranous append- 
ages to the noses of several species. The species vary 
greatly in size, from that of the smallest common 
mouse to that of the enormous bat of Java, which we 
shall presently describe. The smaller species are 
abundantly distributed over the face of the globe; but 
the larger appear to be confined to hot regions, where 
they exist in great numbers. Some species seem to 
live exclusively on insects, whilst others eat fruit as 
well as insects ; and it is known that bats have seldom 
much objection to partake of any raw or dressed meat, 
whether fresh or tainted, which happens to be within 
their reach. The purely insectivorous species render 
great service to mankind, by the destruction of vast 
numbers of insects, which they pursue with great eager- 
ness from the evening to the morning twilight*; but 
in those countries where they are abundant, the fru- 
givorous species commit fearful havoc among thie 
fruits on the trees. Bats are said to drink on the wing 


“ Some accounts seem to say that bats are only abroad in the 
morning and evening twilight.: But we have seen them flitting 


2K. 


| about in full activity at all hours of the night. 


306 


by sipping the surface like swallows as they play over 
pools and streams. ‘They are fond of frequenting 
waters, not only for the sake of drinking, but on 
account of the insects which abound im such places. 
All the different species of bats are nocturnal animals ; 
they conceal themselves during the day-time in old 
buildings, in barns, in hollow trees, in caverns, vaults, 
and similar retreats, where they cling together in large 
clusters, so that they seem to form but one mass. 
Homer alludes to this habit. when speaking of the 
ghosts in the lower world :— 
« As in the cavern of some rifted den, 
Where flock nocturnal bats and-birds obscene, 


Cluster’d they hang, till, at some sudden shock, 
They move, and murmurs run through ak the rock.” 


In the East, inhabited houses are not free from their 
intrusions. We have seen great numbers of them 
clinging to the arches of-the cool cellars which are 
inhabited durmg the summer at Bagdad; and not 
only so, but to the vaulted ceilings of light and lofty 
rooms on the first floor. We have thus had them con- 
tinually in the same rooms with us. We never observed a 
singe bat leave its position, or even change it, during the 
day ; though froin the shapeless and furry mass heads 


peered out with sufficient frequency to mdicate that, in. 


the sunimer days, it was not merely sleep that kept 
them motionless. Noise never seemed to disturb then; 
and if actually touched, they would fly off indeed, but 


would immediately return and form their cluster agai } 


on the same spot. 

We have had several occasions of directing the atten- 
ition of our readers to that beautiful and wise regulation 
of, nature by which animals not. migratory are obliged 
to'sleep through that winter pericd in which the food 
they usually subsist on 3s dificult to obtain. ‘The bats, 
in.all but warm climates, afford another instance. On 
the approach of the cold evenings at the latter end of 
autuinn, they fall into their long winter slumber, and 
are.no.longer to. be seen abroad in. the .evenings, but 
are found clustered together to defend themselves 
against the cold. ‘* Their long lethargy,” says a writer 
in the ‘ Edinburgh Encyclopedia,’ ‘‘ cannot be very 
remote from actual dissolution; for some of the most 
_iimportant animal functions are at least so far suspended 
as to be scarcely perceptible. The action of the heart 
and arteries, for example, becomes so languid, that the 
pulse can scarcely be felt; and it is very doubtful if 
respiration be at all carried on. The circulation of the 
blood is not discernible in the smaller vessels; but 
when the animal is revived by warmth, it again becomes 
visible by the microscope. During hybernation the 
animal’s temperature falls greatly below the ordinary 
standard, while digestion and the visible excretions are 
arrested. It is presumed, however, that the adipose 
matter is gradually taken up by the absorbents into 
the languid circulation; for the creatures enter into 
their dormant state very fat, and revive much emaciated. 
On the whole they fare better during a severe than a 
mild winter ; for warm weather not only awakens them, 
but re-excites their digestive powers at a time when the 
requisite supply is not attainable. Some have been 
cbserved to come forth at the temperature of 42° of 
F’ahrenheit’s thermometer, and others only at that of 
4S°. Such of them as have been roused by irritation, 
or the sudden application of heat, have seldom survived 
the third day; but then it is stated that the weather 
became coider. In their dormant state, the lingering 
remains of vitality may be ascertained by the touch, or 
the approach of a lighted candle, from either of which 
it will be observed to shrink. A moderate and equable 
heat, such as that of the human hand or boson, is 
most likely to revive them, as well as other torpid 
animals, which are often killed by being placed too 
near the fire,” | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘much as possible, of their hearing. 


cannot be obtained on the wine. 


‘[Auaust 9, 


The natural posture of repose to the animal during 
this period, as well as in the days of summer, is that of 
suspending itself by the hind claws with the head 
downward. In this posture the wings serve as a sort 
of cloak or mantle; and in this they also sometimes 
cover up their young, although they will at other times 
fly about with two yonng ones at the breast in the act 
of sucking. These young ones together frequently 
exceed the weight of the parent; and the tenacity with 
which they retain their hold is amazing. 

The eyes of bats are deeply seated in their heads, aiid 
are very small in many of the species. It does not 
indeed appear that they are of any essential use in 
directing their course, for it is one of the most extra- 
ordinary facts in natural history, that privation of sight 
does not prevent them from moving in the air, and 
from avoiding obstacles, to all appearance as readily as 
when they possessed the power of seeing. It has been 
thought that the wings, by their delicate structure, serve 
as feelers to the animal in guiding its flight in the dark. 
Spallanzani, the distinguished naturalist, hung some 
cloths across a large room, with holes in them here and 
there large enough for a bat to fly through. He had 


previously prepared some for this experiment by the 


cruel process of depriving them of their sight, and, as 
On being turned 
loose, they flew without the least difficulty throuzh the 
holes in the cloth without touching the cloth itself. 

It seems to be very difficult for bats to raise them- 
selves into the air from a flat or level surface, and this 
may be one cause for the suspended posture in which 
they are usnally found. ‘They do, however, some- 
times settle on the ground, probably to seek food that 
When they do so, 
they shut their wings, and are able to walk, or even to 
run at a good pace, though with considerable awk 
wardness. . 

We may now recur to the Plerepus Favanicus, which 
is represented in our wood-cut, and-which is the largest 
species of the genus that has been hitherto discovered. 
In adult subjects, the breadth of the expanded wings is 
full five feet, and the length of the body one foot. In. 
the Museum of the East India Company there are. 
several specimens, in the largest of which the expan- 
sion of the wings is five feet two inches, and, in the 
smallest, three feet ten inches: all the other specimens 
measure nearly five feet. The length of the arm and 
the fore-arm together, from the union with the body to: 
the origin of the finger-joints, is fourteen inches. The 
naked thumb, projecting beyond the membrane, mea- 
sures two inches; and the claw, which is .strong and 
sharp, has an extent of nearly one inch along: its 
curvature.. -On the fore-finger the claw is minute, and, 
by the particular inflection of the joints, it obtains a 
direction opposed to the plane of the membrane. ‘The 
length of the hind legs is eight inches and a half. 

The head, as in other species of Péeropus, is oblone,, 
and the muzzle comparatively of moderate length ;. it is 
very gradually attenuated, and measures less than one- 
third of the entire length of the head. The nose is short, 
and somewhat compressed at the sides. ‘The nostrils. 
are round anteriorly, and pass backward by a curve,. 
resembling part of a volute. The ears are simple, 
long, narrow, and pointed. The eyes are large and: 
prominent, and the irides dark. The gape of the mouth; 
terminates under the anterior corner of the eye. The’ 
nose projects but slightly beyond the jaw, and the lips 
are narrow, and form a neatly-defined inelosure of the 
mouth. ‘The teeth are thirty-four in number ;—namely, 
four front teeth, two canine teeth, and ien grinders in 
the upper jaw; and the same number of front and 
canine teeth, with twelve grinders, in the iower jaw. 
No vibrisse exist, but a few lengthened bristly hairs are 
scattered about the lips, nose, and eyes, On the upper 





1834] 


part of the head, the crest of the skull shows itself as a 
longitudinal ridge, which is most prominent in adult 
individuals. ‘The general form of the body presents 
nothing peculiar. 

Lhe colour of the flying membrane is dark-brown, 
inclining to black, with a slight yellowish-red_ tint. 
Lhe general colour of the body and head is black, and 
of the neck and adjoining parts above smoky-brown ; 
but both the extent and intensity of these colours are 
Subject to variations. The upper and lateral parts of 
the neck, and the adjoining parts of the back, between 
the shoulders, afford a principal distinction in the 
varieties of this species. In many individuals, the 
brown or yellowish red hairs form a complete. collar 
round the neck, though the colour is always more 
intense above. The breadth of this collar varies con- 
siderably ; in some cases it extends from the middle of 
the head to beyond the shoulders,—in others it is con- 
fined to the neck, and the back part of the head. The 
tint likewise varies from yellowish-red to blackish- 
brown, but in all cases it has a smoky hue. In young 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


subjects the hairs are long, soft to the touch, and | 


glossy; in old subjects they become crisp and rough. 


307 


SUENO'S PILLAR AT FORRES. 


THis curious and interesting stone, of which the ac- 
companying engraving gives a correct represeutation, 
is situated at a short distance from the town of Forres, 
in the county of Elgin. It is only a few yards off the 
road leading from Elgin to Inverness. It is admitted 
on all hands to be the most singular monument of the 
kind in Great Britain, perhaps in Europe. Many of 
our most distinguished antiquarians are indeed of 
opinion that it has no parallel in any country, Egypt 
excepted. It is cut out of a large block of granite 
stone of the hardest kind to be found in Scotland. 
In height it measures twenty-five feet, and in breadth, 
hear its base, nearly four feet. It is divided into seven 
departments. It is sculptured on both sides; but that 
which looks in an eastern direction is by far the most 
interesting, not only because it is more crowded with 
figures. than the other, but because those figures are 
executed in such a manner as shows that those by whose 
instructions it was erected regarded it as that which 
would chiefly perpetuate whatever occurrence it was 
intended to record. ‘The highest department of the 


Lhe Pleropus Javanicus is extremely abundant inj obelisk contains representations of nine horses, each 


the lower parts of Java, and uniformly lives in society. 
The more elevated districts are not visited .by it. 
Numerous individuals select a large tree for their resort, 
and suspending themselves with the claws of their 
posterior extremities to the naked branches, often in 
companies of several hundreds, afford to a stranger 
avery singular spectacle. A species of Picts, in habit 
resembling the Ficus religiosa of India, which is often 
found near the villages of the natives, affords them a 
very favourite retreat, and the extended branches of 
one of these are sometimes covered by them. In 
weneral, these societies preserve a perfect silence 
during the day; but if they are disturbed, or if a 
contention arises among them, they emit sharp piercing 
shrieks, and their awkward attempts to extricate them- 
selves, when oppressed by the light of the sun, 
exhibit a ludicrous spectacle. In consequence of the 
sharpness of their claws, their attachment is so strong 
that they cannot readily leave their hold without the 
assistance of the expanded membrane; and if suddenly 
killed in this natural attitude during the day they 
continue suspended after death. It is necessary, there- 
fore, to oblige them to take wing by alarming them, if 
it be desired to obtain them during the day. Soon 
after sunset they gradually quit their hold, and pursue 
their nocturnal flights in quest of food. They direct 
their course, by an unerring instinct, to the forests, 
villages, and plantations, occasioning incalculable 
mischief,—attacking and devouring indiscriminately 
every kind of fruit, from the abundant and useful cacao- 
nut, which surrounds every dwelling of the meanest 
peasantry, to the rare and most delicate productions 
which are cultivated with care by princes and chiefs 
of distinction. 

There are few situations in the lower parts of Java 
in which this night-wanderer is not constantly ob- 
served ;—as soon as the lieht of the sun has retired, 
ove animal is seen to follow another at a short but 
irregular distance, and this succession continues un- 
interrupted till darkness obstructs the view. ‘The 
flight of the Kalong is slow and steady, pursued in a 
straight line, and eapable of long continuance. The 
chace of it forms occasionally an amusement to the 
colonists and inhabitants during the moonlight nights, 
which, in the latitude of Java, are uncommonly serene. 
Iie is watched in his descent to the fruit-trees, and a 
discharge of small shot readily brings him to the 
ground. By this means Mr. Horsfield frequently 
ae four or five individuals in the course of an 

our, 


having a rider, who is apparently rejoicing at the 
accomplishment of some important object,—most pro- 
bably of some great victory which has been gained. 
The figures on this division of the stone are more 
defaced by time than those on the other divisions, 
but are still sufficiently distinct to prevent any mistake 
as to what they are.. In the next department appear 
a number of men all in a warlike attitude. Some of 
them are brandishing their weapons, while others, as 
if exulting at some joyful event, are represented as 
holding their shields on high. Others, again, are in 
the act of joining hands, either as if mutually con- 
eratulating each other, or as a pledge of reciprocal 
encouragement and assistance. In the centre of the 
next line of figures appear two warriors, who seeminely 
are either making preparations for, or are already 
engaged in, single combat, while their respective triends 
are witnessing the conflict with the liveliest interest. 
Next we have a group of figures witnessing one of 
their number beheading, in cold blood, the prisoners 
who had been taken in war. Close by is a kind of 
canopy, which covers the heads of those who have been 
executed. ‘This canopy is guarded by men, each bear- 
ing a halbert. A number of dead bodies are lying on 
one side. Next are trumpeters blowing their trumpets, 
in testimony, no doubt, of the triumph which has been 
obtained by the parties, to commemorate whose deeds 
the monument was raised. In the next division we 
have a troop of horses put to flight by a band of 
infantry, whose first line are armed with bows and 
arrows, while those which follow are accoutred with 
swords and targets. In the next and last department 
of the stone, the horses seem to be seized by the con- 
quering party, the riders are beheaded, and the head 
of the chief or leader is suspended, which is probably 
meant to denote the same degradation as if it were 
hung in chains. The other side of the obelisk is chiefly 
occupied with a large cross. Beneath it are two 
persons evidently of great consequence. They are 
accompanied by a retinue of attendants, and embrace 
each other as if in the act of becoming reconciled 
together. 

Such is a description of this very extraordinary 
monument. As to its origin, or the particular events 
jt: was intended to commemorate, we are unfortunately 
lef{tin uncertainty. Every historian, every traveller, and 
indeed most of the antiquarians in Scotland, have all 
more or less turned their attention to the subject; but no 
two of them are agreed as to the purposes for which it 
was erected. Some suppose, from the circumstance of 


ZR 2 


308 


the cross being on the obverse side, that it was planted 
to commemorate the first establishment of Christianity 
in Scotland. This, however, is very unlikely; for, had 
such been its object, it is difficult to see what con- 
nection so many warlike figures could have had with it, 
Others maintain that it was raised in memory of the 
battle of Mortlach, which battle, having been gained 
by the Scots over the Danes, eventually led to the 
expulsion of the latter from the kingdom. This is also 
a very improbable hypothesis, the battle in question 
having been fought nearly twenty miles from the spot 
where the stone is erected. - In fact, there is scarcely 
any event of national importance that occurred between 
the commencement of the tenth and the end of the 
twelfth centuries,—for the date of the pillar is generally 
supposed to lie between those two periods,—but has 
been supposed by some antiquarian or other to have 
been the cause of its erection. 

The hypothesis of the Rev. Charles Cordiner, 4 dis- 
tinguished northern antiquarian of the last century, 
respecting the origin of this monument, appears to us 
the most probable. His opinion is that it was raised to 
commemorate the defeat and expulsion from Scotland, 
by the Scots, of those Scandinavian adventurers men- 
tioned in the ‘ Annals of Torfans,’ who, joined by a 
number of chieftains from the opposite coast of Caith- 
ness, had, in the ninth century, established themselves 
at the neighbouring promontory of Burghead*, and 
who, during the hundred and fifty years they kept pos- 
session of the place, committed the most serious depre- 
dations throughout the surrounding country. In 
support of his hypothesis Mr. Cordiner reasons in this 
way -— 

‘‘ In their sanguine endeavours to extend their sway 
and at the same time secure a more speedy retreat to 
their lines, when carrying off booty, or baffled in any 
attempt, the aid of cavalry was of essential and almost 
indispensable importance, and naturally became the 
distinguishing characteristic of their forces. 

‘“* Of consequence, as it was the great object of Cale- 
donian policy and valour to seize their horses, in order 
to defeat their enterprises; so when, at a fortunate 
period, they succeeded in totally routing the Scan- 
dinavian bands, and compelling them to leave their 
shores, if they wished to erect a conspicuous memorial 
of the event, the most striking article would be to ex- 
hibit the seizure of the horses, and the inflicting of a 
capital penalty on their riders; and this is done in the 
most conspicuous department of the column. 

‘“Tt is moreover evident, from the concurring testimony 
of history and tradition, that part of the troops and 
warlike adventurers which-had embarked in the grand 
expedition undertaken by Olaus, Prince of Norway, 
about the year 1000, did reinforce the garrison at 
Eccialsbacca, in the Burgh of Moray, and made some 
daring advances towards the subduing of the surround- 
ing countries—and that, soon after that period, their 
repeated defeats induced them wholly to relinquish their 
settlement in that province. 


‘* No event was therefore more likely to become a|~ 


subject of national gratitude and honour than those 
actions in which the princes of Norway and their 
military adherents were totally defeated, and which 
so fully paved the way for returning peace to smile 
over these harassed and extensive territories. And, 
in consequence of the Scandinavian forces finally 
evacuating their posts, a treaty of amicable alliance 
might be formed between Malcolm and Canute, or 
Sueno, King of Norway; and the august figures on 
the base of the cross have been sculptured to express 


* Burghead is the most northern point in Scotland to which the 
expedition of Agricola penetrated. The Romans there encamped, 
and continued in the place for a considerable time, The traces of 
their camp are still distinctly to be seen, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{Audust 9, 


that important reconciliation,while the figures on 
the adjacent edge of the obelisk, which are joined hand 
in hand, and in attitudes of friendly communication, 
may allude to the new degrees of mutual confidence and 
security which took place after the feuds were settlcd 
that are represented on the front of the column.” | 

The traditions of the country are certainly more in 
favour of this view of the matter than of any other 
hypothesis which has been advanced. ‘The very name, 
indeed, given to the pillar, viz., ‘* Sueno’s Stone,”’ which 
it has retained from time immemorial, shows that the 
opinion of the peasantry in the district always has been, 
that that Norwegian monarch must have been, in some 
way or other, connected with its erection, 








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1934.] 
JOHN SACKHEUSE, THE ESQUIMAUX. 


THERE seems to be hardly any information more gene- 
rally interesting than that which states the conduct and 
deportment of the natives of savage or barbarous coun- 
tries, who happen by peculiar circumstances to be set 
down amidst the wonders of European’ civilization. 
How their minds are affected by the difference between 
this and the modes of life to which they have been 
accustomed; how their faculties expand under the 
influence of new relations and circumstances; what 
are the classes of things which most engaged their 
attention ; and with what eye they viewed our habits 
and institutions—are all objects of highly interesting 
and not unprofitable consideration. Under this im- 
pression we have drawn together from various sources 
the following account of John Sackheuse, a young 
Esquimaux, who died in this country in the year 1819. 
In the same year, a Memoir of this young man, attri- 
buted to the pen of Captain Basil Hall, appeared in 
* Blackwood’s Magazine.’ He is also mentioned in 
other papers of that publication ; and appears a very 
prominent character in the account pnblished by Cap- 
tain Ross of his * First Expedition in search of a 
North-west Passage.’. The following narrative is 
drawn from all these sources of information, particularly 
from the Memoir in § Blackwood.’ A 

John Sackheuse appears to have been born about 
the year 1797, on the west coast of Greenland, about 
70° north latitude. In the year 1816, when the whale 
ships of the season were about to leave the coast and 
return home, John was enabled through the favour of 
the sailors, whose good will he had won, to hide him- 
self and stow away his canoe on board the Thomas and 
Anne, Captain Newton, of the port of Leith. When 
the vessel was well clear of the land John came forth 
from his concealment,:and the.captain supposing he 
had been carried away by accident, kindly offered to 
return and put him on shore. But finding that he had 
a very earnest desire to proceed to England with the 
ship, and abandon his own country, Captain Newton per- 
mitted him to remain. During the voyage John con- 
trived to pick up a little English, and made himself a 
tolerably expert seaman.. During the following winter 
he frequently exhibited his canoe in the docks at Leith, 
in which neighbourhood he and his frail vessel attracted 
a good deal of notice. By the owners and the captain 
of the Thomas and Ann, he was treated with the 
greatest kindness and liberality ; and when, in 1817, 
he went to Davis's Straits again in the same vessel, the 
captain was carefully instructed to leave it quite free 
to him either to remain in his own country or return 
again with the vessel. On reaching Greenland he 
found that his only surviving relation, his sister, had 
died in his absence. When he received this intelligence 
he immediately decided to return to Scotland, and 
fcc lane that he would revisit his native country no 
more. . 

About the beginning of the year 1818, Mr. Nasmyth, 
an eminent artist of Edinburgh, happened to meet 
John Sackheuse in the streets of Leith, and having 
been some years before engazed to execute a set of 
drawings of the Esquimaux costume, he was natu- 
rally attracted by his appearance, although his dress 
was considerably modified by his European habits. 
Mr. Nasmyth took him to Edinburgh, and finding that 
he had not only a taste for drawing, but considerable 
readiness of execution, he kindly undertook to give 
him instructions in the art, Shortly after, when it was 
understood that an expedition to the Arctic regions 
was about to sail under Captain Ross, it occurred to 
Mr. Nasmyth that the services of Sackheuse might be 
very advantageously employed on the occasion; and 
this idea having been communicated to the Admiralty, 
he was immediately invited on very liberal terms to 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


309. 


accompany the expedition, John seemed very indiffe- 
rent about the compensation, but readily agreed to go, 
—only carefully stipulating that he was not to be left 
in his own country. His great unwillingness to re- 
turn to his native land, after having tasted the blessings 
and comforts of civilized life, seems more easy to 
account for than his original willingness to leave it. 
On this point the materials before us afford no foun- 
dation even for a conjecture. 

We must now turn to the work of Captain Ross for 
an account of the proceedings of Sackheuse during the 
Arctic voyage. That officer appears to have been very 
sensible of the value of the young man’s services, and 
his name occurs very frequently in the book. Among 
the various transactions of this voyage, in which he 
acted a considerable part, the following may be men- 
tioned as the most prominent, and that which excited 
the greatest interest in his own mind, 

On the 9th of August, when the vessels were near 
Cape’ Dudley Digges, about 76° N. lat., some human 
beings unexpectedly appeared, moving towards them. 
on the ice, which spread for about seven or eight miles 
between the vessels and the coast of Greenland. As 
they seemed to hail the ship, they were at first supposed 
to be shipwrecked sailors; and the ships therefore 
stood nearer to the ice, and hoisted their colours. On. 
a nearer approach, however, it was discovered that they 
were natives of the country, drawn by dogs on sledges, 
which moved with wonderful rapidity. They paused at. 
what they considered a safe distance from the ships, 
which they remained for some time silently observing ; 
but when the vessels tacked, they set up a simultaneous 
shout, accompanied with many strange gesticulations, 
and wheeled off with amazing velocity towards the land, 
and they were soon lost sight of behind the hummocks 
of ice. Their sudden departure was much regreited, 
and in order, if possible, to bring them back—to make 
inquiries of them, and explain the friendly intentions of 
the visiters—Captain Ross caused a white flaz to be 
hoisted on a hillock of ice. On this was painted a 
hand holding a green branch of a tree: there were also 
left on the ice some presents placed on a stocl, and an 
Esquimaux dog, with some beads about his neck. 
When, about ten hours after, the vessels returned from 
exainining the state of the ice at the head of the pool, 
the dog was found asleep on the spot where he had 
been left, and the presents were untouched. But on 
the following day eight sledges were observed moving 
furiously towards the vessels. They halted about the 
distance of half a mile from the ships, and when it 
was perceived that they had no inclination to come 
nearer, Sackheuse volunteered his services to go on the 
ice with presents and endeavour to bring the people 
to a parley. In estimating the courage which this 
offer indicated, it should be borne in mind that John, 
in common with other southern Esquimaux, believed 
these northern regions to be inhabited by an exceed- 
ingly ferocious race of giants, who were great cannibals. 
Nevertheless, at his own particular desire, he went to 
meet the strangers, unarmed and unattended; and he 
executed the service with a degree of address not infe- 
rior to the conrage with which it was undertaken. 

After much difficulty Sackheuse succeeded in esta- 
blishing an intercourse with these people. The im- 
pression made by this scene upon him was so strong 
that he afterwards executed a drawing of it from 
memory. ‘This was his first attempt at historical com- 
position, his practice having been hitherto confined to 
copying such prints of single figures or ships as he 
could procure. He gave this drawing to Captain Ross, 
and an engraving from it appears in the work of that 
officer. Tie says that it was executed by the Esqui- 
maux without assistance or advice; and adds, ‘ It 
cannot certainly be regarded as a specimen of art, but 


810 


it has the merit of being at least a good representation 
of the objects introduced.” After his return to England, 
John used to take ereat delight in relating ins ad- 
ventures with the “ Northmen,” as he called these people. 
On one such occasion he, with great good humour, 
aud somewhat touchingly, adverted to his own igno- 
rance when first he landed in this country. He then 
imagined the first cow he saw to be a.wild and dan- 
eerous animal, and hastily retreated to the boat for 
the harpoon, that he might defend himself and his 
companions from this ferocious-looking beast. 

On the return of the expedition, John became an 
object of great interest in London, and obtained so 
much notice, that there was reason to fear either that 
the poor. fellow’s head would be turned, or that he 
would get into bad company and acquire dissipated 
habits. But, happily, he soon tired of London, and, 
at his own desire, was sent to Edinburgh, and placed 
under the charge of some of his old friends. 

The Admiralty Board, feeling the importan¢e of 
John’s services as an interpreter to the next expedition, 
gave directions that he should be educated in as liberal 
a manner as possible. He concurred with these views, 
and engaged in the requisite pursuits with astonishing 
ardour and perseverance. Mr. Nasmyth resumed his 
drawing lessons in a more methodical manner than at 
first ; and was of still greater service to him by teach- 
ing him English, and by introducing him to his own 
family, all of whom took the warmest interest in his 
improvement and welfare. He was also instructed in 
writing; and a gentleman who wished to learn the 
Esquimaux laneuage undertook to give him regular 
lessons in English. He amused his leisure in modelling 
and carving canoes, and took much pleasnre in walkine 
about and paying visits. He was fond of society, and 
being himself very entertaining, the circle of his ac- 
quaintance was soon so extended, that his evenings 
passed cheerfully and profitably. 

But in the midst of all his enjoyments and useful 
pursuits, he was seized with an inflammatory complaint, 
from which, in a few days, he in a great measure re- 
covered, but relapsed, and died on Sunday evening, the 
14th of February, 1819. The highest medical talent 
of the city had been exerted in vain to save him; and 
during his illness he was attended by his friends with 
the most anxious care. During the height of his first 
illness he was very obedient; but when he was freed 
from pain, and bewan to gain strength, he by no means 
liked the discipline to which he was subjected, and the 
prescribed regimen still more displeased him. 

The remains of this interesting stranger were fol- 
lowed to the grave by a numerons company, amone 
whom were not only his old friends and patrons from 
Leith, but many gentlemen of high respectability m 
Edinburgh. ; 

“John Sackheuse (says the Memoir in ‘ Black- 
wood’s Magazine’) was about five feet eight inches 
hieh, broad in the chest, and well set, with a very wide 
face, and a great quantity of coarse black straight hair. 
The expression of his countenance, however, was re- 
markably pleasing and good humoured, and not in the 
least degree savage. There were at all times great 
simplicity and absence of pretension in his manners. 
His modesty was great: when asked his opinion of the 
elephant he had secn in London, he said, with great 
naiveté and a look of great. humility, ‘ Elephant mere 
sense me. [is disposition was gentle and obliging ; 
he was erateful for the least kindness shown to him, 
and upon several occasions exhibited a goodness of 
heart, and a consideration for the wishes and feelings 
of others, which would have done ho.iour to any country. 
Mis fondness for and kindness to childre> was very 
striking. In a snowy day, last winter, he met two 


children at some distance from Leith,.and observing | 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 


[August 9, 


them to be suffering from the cold, he took off his 
jacket, and having carefully wrapped them in it, brought 
them safely home: he would take no reward, and seemed 
to be quite unconscious that he had done any thing 
remarkable. He was temperate in all Ins habits; he 
was docile, and always open to conviction ; showing, 
however, the geratest desire to be treated with con- 
fidence, and of this he never proved himself unworthy. 

‘He had a quick sense of insult: and one evening 
being attacked in a most ungenerous and cowardly 
way in the streets, he resented the indigmties put upon 
him in a very summary manner, by fairly knocking 
several of the party down; but although the insult was 
thus reseuted, so nice were his feelings that several 
days elapsed before he subsided into his wonted quiet 
state of mind, It is due to poor John to state, that 
upon this cceasion he behaved for a long time with 
eveat forbearance; but upon being struck, he was 
roused to exert his strength, which was prodigious. 
The whole party were carried to the watch-house—a: 
measure which the Esquimaux could never be made to. 
comprehend.” 


NAUPLIA. 


Tue town of Nauplia, or Napoli di Romania, is 
situated along the foot of an abrupt rocky promontory 
of considerable elevation, which projects into the sea at 
the head of the gulf bearing the same name. It oc- 
cupies the whole length of the narrow strip of low land 
between the clifis and the shore, so that further enlarge- 
ment is impracticable. It is well fortified, and enclosed 
by walls on which the “ winged lion” is still visible, in 
proof of their Venetian construction, and although 
miserably bad, is, upon the whole, one of the best built 
towns in the Morea, of which it is justly considered to 
be the maritime key. 

It is admirably situated, both in a military and com- 
mercial point of view; but the place is very unhealthy, 
partly owing to the neighbouring marshes in the plains 
of Areos, and partly owing to the total want of cleanli- 
ness, Eevers are very prevalent, and the town has 
often been ravaged by plague. In 1824 it was visited 
with a dreadful epidemic, which carried off about one- 
third of the population. The interior, with the excep- 
tion of one square, consists of very narrow, filthy: 
streets, from which the breeze is always excluded by 
the upper stories of the houses projecting one above the 
other till they almost meet. The larger houses geue- 
rally have been built by the Venetians, and are now nade 
subservient to public purposes; but the greater part 
are ‘Turkish, though very different from the light, well- 
built houses of Constantinople. In these the lower 
part is invariably appropriated as a stable for the horses, 
whence a miserable and often unsafe staircase leads 
to the upper mhabited. apartments. The shops are 
principally for the sale of wine, provisions, and arms: 
Much as the town has suffered from the effects of can- 
non during its several siewes, its present ruinous 
state is principally owing to the spirit of implacable 
revenge, which led to the demolition of those honses 
which had been the residence of Turks. The many 
barbarous excesses committed on both sides froin this 
deep-rooted feeling are of a nature too revolting to 
dwell upon, and, however it may be attempted to 
extenuate them, have greatly dimmed the lustre. of the 
victory which has at length crowned the Greek arms. 
A mosque with its taper minaret and some fountains, 
which they are in the habit of erecting in their strects, 
are the only monuments left in this town to show that 
for so many years Greece was the slave of Turkey. 

At present Napoli is the seat of sovernment and 
residence of King Otho, and may therefore be con- 
sidered the capital of Greece; but although it must 


4934.7 


evér be a place of great importance as a military and 
commercial post, it is by no means calculated to become 
the metropolis of the kingdom, from its unhealthiness 
aud very circumscribed extent. 
amount to 5000 or 6000, but fluctuates greatly: it, is 


however, one of the most thickly-peopled cities in the’ 
world, averaging three or four inmates to each room. ’ 


Since the arrival of King Otho, Nauplia has under- 
gone considerable improvement; and, as security of 
property becomes more certain, will doubtless make 
rapid advances,-a great number of vemigrants~ from 
Eurape having already established themselves in: trade 
here. ‘The diversions of the town consist in frequenting 
some ill-furnished coffee-houses and billiard-tables; or 
all evening promenade in the square or to the.suburb. 
The market of Napoli is well supplied: with fruit 
and vegetables in great variety and abundance; but 
butchers’ meat is indifferent. “The adjacent country 
is ‘rich and fertile; even the wildest and most un- 
cultivated parts are covered with beds of thyme, fennel, 
and mint, which afford inexhaustible materials for 
honey; but this indulgence must be gratified with 
caution, as the honey is medicinal in its properties. 

The port is exceedingly good and eligible for ship- 
‘ping, being perfectly safe and easy of access. From 
the bay, the view is at once pleasing, picturesque, and 
exciting: the lofty, majestie reck surmounted by the 
citadel ; the busy town and port; the plain and town of 
‘Argos, with its Acropolis, backed by a range of lofty 
niountains, and the snowy summits of Taygetus to the 
west ; all heightened by the associations of former times 
—contribute to render the surrounding scenery highly 
interesting. ‘But as soon as the stranger puts his foot 
on shore, the enchantment ceases and his enthusiasm 
vanishes,—all feelings of pleasure give way to nausea 
and disgust. 

Prior to the revolution, Napoli was the depot for all 
the produce of Greece; and, although this exclusive 
trade has latterly been shared by other ports, there is 
still an extensive commerce carried on in wine, oil, corn, 
wax, honey, sponges, and cotton. ‘The transport of 
these articles is princtpally limited to kaiks, or open 
boats of fifteen or thirty tons burden. Napoli offers 


no’ facility for ship-building; but, as some of the. 


islands engage largely in this occupation, 1% may be 
expected that, as the mercantile navy increases, com- 
merece will also emerge from the: narrow bounds to 
which it has hitherto been confined. Already, indeed, 
it has be@un to experience the encouraging effects of 
freedom, order, and peace. The sea-breeze blows 
furiously up the Gulf of Nauplia during the day, and it 
is the custom, therefore, for vessels to. leave the anchor- 
age In the evening, when they catch the land-breeze, 
which blows during the night, and generally carries 
.them out of the gulf before morning. 

The strength of Napoli is the citadel, which is called 
the Palamedi, over whose turreted walls a few cypresses 
raise their sombre heads ; it stands on the easternmost 
and highest elevation of the promontory, and completely 
overhangs and commands the town. ‘To all appearance 
it is impregnable, and from its situation and aspect has 
been termed the °* Gibraltar of Greece,” an appellation 
which, when in a better state of defence, it may deserve. 
It is 720 feet above the sea, and has only one assail- 
able point, where a narrow isthmus connects it with 
the main land—and this is overlooked by a rocky 
precipice: the ascent is by flights of steps cut in the 
rock. Beneath the Palamedi, the land continues at the 
elevation of about 300 feet to the extreme point of the 
promontory, and on this are various forts, &c. The 
present fortifications are chiefly Venetian, repaired at 
various times by the Turks and Greeks ; but the ruins 
of ancient walls of Cyclopean masonry, on which those 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


‘The population may. 


31 


‘of the Palamedi are based, may still be seen. Many 
‘pieces of Venetian ordnance remain on the walls to this 
day. The Palamedi, in which sume excellent barracks 
have lately been built, is capable of containing a large 
‘garrison. Besides these points, and the walls which 
enclose the town and are defended by bastions, there is 
a small rocky islet in the harbour on which stands the 
‘Castle of St. Theodore, which, though commanded by 
the upper forts, would be very formidable to an assail- 
ing squadron of ships. The Greeks, in the siege of 
Napoli, obtained possesion of this post very early, and, 
in spite of its disadvantageous position, contrived to 
annoy not only the town but the Turkish garrison in 
the upper forts ;—it is at present used as a state prison. 
The town of Napoli is supplied with water by a stream 


‘Issuing from the celebrated fountain of Canathus. 
It passes by an aqueduct under the cliffs of the Palamedi, 


and admits of being easily cut off by the besiegers, as 
it was by the Greeks. 

The ancient Nauplia is said to have been built by 
Nauplius, the son of Neptune, before the Trojan war. 
Nauplia was subsequently the chief naval arsenal of 
the Argives. It was desolate in the time of Pausanias, 
who saw only the ruins of the walls and of a temple of 
Neptune remaining. The Venetians obtained posses- 
sion of it in 1460. In 1495 it surrendered to Bajazet, 


but was again taken by the Venetians, under Morozini, 


in August 1586, after a month’s siege, and became the 
head-quarters of that nation in the Morea. In 1714 
it was treacherously given up to Ali Coumourgi, and 
was the seat of Turkish government and residence of 
the Pasha of the Morea till Tripolizza was selected as 


being more central, when it became subject to the Bey 


of Argos. ‘The crescent remained uninterruptedly 


flying on this fortress till the 12th of December, 1822, 


when it surrendered to the Greeks, after a long and 
tedious blockade, the ‘Turkish garrison having been 
reduced to such a state of starvation as to feed on the 
corpses of their companions. Jn 1825 Ibrahim Pacha. 
made a fruitless attempt to surprise the place; and it 
has been the stronghold of the Greeks in their strugele 
for liberty. In April, 1826, the Commission of Govern- 
meut held their sittings here, but were obli¢ed to retire 
to Aigina on account of civil dissensions and two of the 
revolted chiefs being in possession of the Palamedi. 
During the presidency of Capo d’Istrias, who always 
resided (and was assassinated) in the town, it again 


became the seat of government; and on the 3lst of 


January, 1833, the Prince of Bavaria arrived here as 


first king of restored Greece. 


Though generally known to the Franks by the name 
of Napoli di Romania, it is eenerally known to the 
Greeks by its ancient name of Nauplia. It is the see 
of a bishop, and one of the towns for holding civil and 
criminal courts; it has a printing-press in full operation, 
and, besides the newspapers and periodicals, editions of 
several of their best works have been published at Napoli; 
and public instruction, which was early introduced here 
by the Jesuits, is again making progress. The accom- 
modations for visiters have undergone considerable 
improvement, for which, indeed, there was ample room, 
as it was difficult for the traveller to find even ne- 
cessaries, much less comforts,—houses, rooms, there 
certainly were, but without any furniture. 

Argos lies to the N.N.W., distant about twelve 
miles, by a road which leads for some time along the 
sea-shore, round the head of the bay; it is in some 
places so swampy as to be almost impassable in the 
winter months, but tolerably good as it proceeds along 
the plain towards Argos. An excellent road was made 
from Nauplia to Epidaurus during the presidency 
of Capo d’Istrias, by which speedy communication was 
insured with Aigina and Athens, 





[Avaust 9, 18384, 


82 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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Printed by Wieuram Crowes, Dake Street, Lambeth, 





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OF THE 


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PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Aucusr 16, 1834. 





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[ Bay-Tree. } 
25 


314 


Tue bay-tree (Laurus nobilis), or, as the French call 
it, Apollo’s Laurel, which our wood-cut appropriately 
represents amidst the ruins of that country with the 
ancient literature and fables of whicn it is so closely 
connected, is a species of the rather extensive tribe of 
plants which botanists distinguish by the name of 
Laurus (the ancient Latin name of the bay-tree), and 
which, besides the present, includes several interesting 
species, such as the cinnamon, camphor, benzoin, &c., 
which we are not at present required to notice par- 
ticularly. The geography of the laurel tribe is thus 
eiven by Dr. Lindley:—‘* These trees inhabit the 
tropics of either hemisphere; in a very few instances 
only straggling to the northward in North America 
and Europe. No genus is known to exist in any part 
of the continent of Africa, except the paradoxical 
Cassytha. This is the more remarkable as several 
species of Laurus have been found both in Teneriffe 
and Madeira, and some other genera exist in Mada- 
gascar and in the isles of France and Bourbon.” Of 
all the species, our bay-tree seems the best qualified to 
strugele with a colder climate than the tribe can in 
general bear, and is, in fact, the only one that is 
indigenous in Europe. It is very common in the East, 
in the isles of Greece, and upon the coast of Barbary. 
Entire forests of bay-trees exist in the Canaries. It 
has been perfectly naturalized in Italy and in the 
south of France; and it even bears our own climate 
very well, forming one of the most desirable evergreens 
we have, although its growth is slow. 

In its southern habitat the height of the bay-tree 
sometimes exceeds thirty feet. The leaves are of a 
rich deep green, highly and pleasantly aromatic; the 
flowers are of a pale-yellow colour, and are afforded 
by old trees only; the fruit is of a nearly black-red 
colour, and about the size of a small cherry—never, we 
believe, perfected in this country, but plentiful in Italy. 
This is one of the trees which have been most cele- 
brated by the ancient poets. Ovid relates, with great 
beauty, the fable of the change of Daphne into a laurel 
by Jupiter, to save her from the pursuit of Apollo, who 
thenceforth adopted the tree as his own :— 

“ Because thou canst not be 
My mistress, I espouse thee for my tree: 
Be thou the prize of honour and frenown ; 
The deathless poet and the poem crown. 
Thou shalt the Roman festivals adorn, 


And, after poets, be by victors worn.”’-— 
4 Garth’s Ovid, 


In consequence of this dedication to the god of poetry 
and music, the leaves of the plant were considered a 
suitable crown for the heads of poets, and came also to 
be bestowed on triumphant warriors, and on the victors 
in the Olympic games. Poets, warriors, and kings 
continue still to receive the laurel crown in poetry, on 
statues, and on coins; and the court-poet still retains 
the title of Iaureate as a memento of the laurel crown 
he formerly wore. In the middle ages, it was customary 
to place on the heads of young doctors a crown of laurel ; 
such persons, as well as the poets who were sometimes 
solemnly crowned, as in the case of Petrarch at Rome 
in 1341, seem to have been called baccalaurei, from 
which word some etymologists derive the word ‘ bachelor,’ 
when used as a literary title of honour. 

The bay-tree is useful in medicine. The leaves when 
bruised between the fingers exhale a pleasant odour, 
and afford when burnt a grateful incense. This 
aromatic property occasions the employment of the 
leaves for culinary purposes, and hence they are an 
article of export from the countries which afford the 
tree, being a branch of commerce even with the United 
States. ‘The husks of the berries contain a great 
quantity of volatile oil, which is very aromatic; and 





the kernels also furnish by expression a fat oil, which is | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Avaust 16, 


much employed for embrocations. It is greenish in 
colour, and the smell is a faint exhibition of that of 
bay-leaves. 


CULTIVATION OF GOOSEBERRIES IN THE 
NORTH OF ENGLAND 


Tux gooseberry is commonly thought to be one of the 
native fruits of the island; and, whether so or not, 
there is certainly no country in which it arrives at 
ereater perfection. It is always found to prefer the 
temperate climates, with an inclination rather towards 
the cold than the warm. Itis not known in Africa, in 
the Sonth Sea Islands, or between the tropics of either 
hemisphere; but is found in the temperate parts of 
Europe, America, and Asia. In the southern and 
central parts of Asia the plant is perfectly unknown, 
except in some situations where, among the high 
mountains, the temperature is lowered to the point it 
requires. Persons who have resided many years in 
India, and in all that time had never seen a currant or 
cooseberry, speak with delight of the European cha- 
racter which these plants give to the scenery of the 
mountains in the north of that country. 

It is not clearly known when the gooseberry first 
becaine an object of cultivation in this country; but it 
had become a garden fruit in the reign of Henry VUIL., 
for the old writer Tusser, who lived in that reign, says, 
in his ‘ Five Hundred Pointes of Good Husbandrie,’— 


“ The barbery, respis *, and gooseberry too, 
Look now to be planted as other things do.” 


Soon after this period descriptions were afforded of ten 
or a dozen varieties; and, among the rest, the blwe,— 
a colour not at present found among three or four 
hundred soris that might be enumerated. The fruit 
was apparently very small when the plant was first 
brought under cultivation, resembling the small taste- 
less and neglected fruit which we find in the south of 
Europe; and, in size at least, it does not appear to 
have much increased down to more than a century 
after ‘Tusser’s time, as may be inferred from the 
surprise expressed by Pepys at seeing gooseberries “ as 
big as nutmegs,” *°* At every subsequent period,” says 
an interesting and useful little tract +, from which much 
of the information in this article is taken, “* the goose- 
berry has claimed a share of the attention of writers on 
horticulture, as it has found a place alike in the gardens 
of the nobleman and of the cottager ; and has rewarded, 
by its abundant and profitable produce, the skill of the 
professional gardener, and, by its great size, the care 
of the amateur grower: indeed the success which has 
attended its culture under the holiday attention of the 
artizan seems to entitle it to the distinctive appellation 
of the poor man’s favourite,” 

It has been ascertained that, under favourable cir- 
cumstances, the gooseberry-plant wil] attain a consider- 
able age, and grow to a great size. At Duffield, near 
Derby, there was, in 1821, a bush known to have been 
planted at least forty-six years, and the branches of 
which extended twelve yards in circumference ; and the 
garden of the late Sir Joseph Banks, at Overton Hall, 
near Chesterfield, contained at the same time two re- 
markable gooseberry-plants, trained against a wall, 
measuring each upwards of fifty feet in the full extent 
of their branches. 

The plant, in this country, exhibits a marked prefer- 
ence to cold situations. The gooseberry in the southern 
parts of Englaid is not comparable to that of the north ; 
and the flavour of the Scotch berry is much superior to 
that of those produced in any part of England; while, 
in Scotland itself, the gooseberries of Dundee, Aber- 

* Raspberry. ’ 


{ Memoir on the History and Cultivation of the Gooseberry.— 
Printed at Sheffield. 


a 


1834. ] 


deen, and Inverness, much exceed in flavour any which 
the Edinburgh market-eardeners can raise. In size 
and appearance, however, the gooseberries of Lancashire 
are, perhaps, unequalled by any in the world; and 
there, and in the counties of Cheshire, Staffordshire, 
and Warwickshire, the striking improvement which has 
taken place in the cultivation of this cheap and agree- 
able fruit is to be attributed less to the market-oar- 
deners, or even to the scientific horticulturists, than to 
the mechanics, who very generally spend much of their 
leisure time in the pleasing occupation of gardening, 
particularly in the cultivation of the gooseberry, and 
have their ambition very much turned towards the 
production of large specimens of that fruit. Some idea 
of the attention which has been paid to this object may 
be formed from the fact, that of the two hundred kinds 
of gooseberries which are enumerated in the fruit 
catalogue of the Horticultural Society, not fewer than 
a hundred and fifty are the large Lancashire goose- 
berries. ‘“‘ The custom has doubtless a tendency to 
improve the health and morals of the people. Any 
pursuit which makes men acquainted with the pecu- 
harities of vegwetable economy, in however small a 
degree, has a beneficial effect upon the heart and 
understanding; and it is certainly better for nailers 
and weavers to vie with each other in raising the 
largest gooseberries, than in those games of chance 
or cruel sports to which the leisure hours of the 
working classes are too often devoted. The one isa 
rational and innocent emulation; the other a degrading 
excitement or a brutal induleence*.” ‘The humble 
origin Of the different sorts of Lancashire goose- 
berries is often indicated by their names, which are 
generally fanciful, often local and personal, sometimes 
sufficiently absurd, but frequently characteristic of the 
manners of the country in which they are produced. 
** Lancashire Witches,” ‘* Richmond Lads,” ‘‘ Cheshire 
Lasses,” ‘* Jolly Miner,” “* Jolly Painter,” ‘“ Top 
Sawyer,” ‘*‘ Crown Bob,” are sufficient specimens. 

It is not to be expected that so much attention would 
be given to the culture of the gooseberry in the coun- 
ties we have mentioned without the operation of some 
external stimulus. Accordingly, we find ** Gooseberry 
Shows,” as they are called, established in different 
parts of Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Cheshire. The 
time and conditions of these meetings are determined 
by certain rules, which are points of familiar knowledge ; 
aud the minor details of each show are settled in the 
spring, from which time, until the day of exhibition, 
each competitor entered on the list subscribes a small 
weekly sum towards the purchasing of prizes. ‘These 
generally consist either of a pair of sugar-tongs, a 
copper tea-kettle, a cream-jug, or a corner cupboard, 


which, as well as sweepstakes, and specified sums of 


money, are adjudged to the growers of the heaviest 
fruits of each colour, seedlings, &c. The exhibition of 
the berries, and the adjudication of prizes, generally 
takes place in July and August, and the weight of the 
different sorts of fruit shown is frequently published in 


the newspapers of the town where the show is held ;_ 


while the result of the shows in various parts of the 
kingdom have, for several years, been printed at Man- 


chester, and circulated, chiefly among the growers, in. 


what is called ‘ The Gooseberry Book.’ 

Thus far we have only had to make statements of a 
pleasing character. We regret now to add, on the 
authority of the ‘ Memoir,’ that much time and money 
is wasted, and habits of drinking are formed or 
cherished, in attending the shows, which are usually 
held in public-houses, where, of course, as the only 
return to the landlord is profit upon the liquor drunk, 
the whole scheme is often got up with a sole reference 


* Vegetable Substances, vol, ii., part 2, Library of Entertaining 
Knowledge, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


315 


to that object. Under such circumstances, we imagine 
a wife must dread the consequence of her husband’s 
addiction to even so innocent and pleasing a pursuit ag 
that which we have been describing. This is a most 
unnatural state of things; anditis much to be lamented 
that men, upon whose conduct so many of the best 
interests of the country depend, do not recollect that 
‘“ Gooseberry shows ” might be carried on more ration- 
ally, more comfortably, and more advantageously, in 
every respect in private houses. 

It is not our object to enter into details concernipg the 
modes in which the gooseberry-plant is cultivated, but 
we may state a few particulars to illustrate the progress 
which has been made in the culture of the oooseberry- 
fruit. About forty years since it was thought a great 
thing when an amateur grower pulled a gooseberry 
that was heavier than a “ spade-ace guinea,” or, in 
the parlance of the workshop, ‘‘ weighed more than a 
pound.” Berries were, however, soon after produced 
that weighed twice as much; and little would now be 
thought of a show fruit that should not weich five 
“ pounds,” or sovereigns. The largest gooseberry ever 
grown was a handsome yellow fruit called “ Teazer,” 
which was shown at Stockport in July, 1830, and weiehed 
32 dwts. 13 gs, The heaviest red berry on record was 
the ** Roaring Lion,” exhibited at Nantwich in 1825, 
and weighing 31 dwts. 16ers. The heaviest white was 
the “ Ostrich,’—24 dwts. 20 grs.—shown at Ormskirk 
in 1832, in which year the maximum of reds was only 
27 dwts. 13 grs. In the same season, a seedling oreen 
was exhibited at Nantwich of the uncommon weight of 
30 dwts. 18 grs. To this statement of the weight to 
which the fruit has sometimes been brought, it may be 
interesting to add that a seedling plant of reputation 
has been known to produce, when sold in lots, upwards 
of 321, ‘This was a rare case, indeed; but it is said 
to be not at all unusual for twenty guineas to be 
brought in by the distribution of a single bush in 
rooted parcels. 


Thievish Disposition of the Gambier Istanders.—Many of 
the natives had come off in the morning, and appeared quite 
at home with us. They danced and sung, nor did they 
conceal those pilfering propensities for which all these 
islanders are famed. It was ridiculous to see them carrying 
several articles to the gangway to put on their rafts: nor 
were they at all willing to part with their new acquisitions, 
upoh intimation that they could not be so readily spared. 
A. little terrier was brought on deck, and barked of course 
at the visiters: but they were so far from being afraid of 
his biting them, that one of their number took him up in 
his arms, and was about to carry him over the side. Un- 
fortunately Rio made no use of his teeth, or no further 
argument would have been required to induce the savage 
to let him go. They were not allowed to go below, and, as 
we thought, a vigilant look-out was kept upon them; not- 
withstanding which they contrived to make away with 
several things, such as a spy-giass, a book, and some other 
articles; one was detected with the tureen, which he had 
conveyed through the port-hole. It is the more astonishing 
that they succeeded in any attempt, from the impossibility 
of concealing their prey, as they were quite destitute of 
clothing.— Manuscript Journal of a Voyage of Discovery. 


Effect of Moonbeams at Sea.—A_ Correspondent, in men- 
tioning the non-existence at sea of certain rocks which are 
laid down in the Admiralty ‘ Charts,’ remarks :—“ I have 
frequently observed that the moonbeams striking from be- 
tween the clouds upon the surface of the sea at some dis- 
tance, when the waves are broken by a fresh breeze, cause 
an appearance so much like that of breakers as to be taken 
for such by most persons on board. Itis probable that 
many of the rocks in the ocean, which are marked down in 
the ‘ Charts,’ have had this origin; but none of them ought 
to be expunged until their non-existence has been decidedly 
established. ‘They have, meanwhile, the good effect of 
exciting vigilance at sca,” 

282 


[Auaust 16, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 
AMSTERDAM. 


316 


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1834.] 


AMSTERDAM is the largest, wealthiest, and most popu- 
lous city of Holland, although it is not the seat of 
government, and only ranks as the capital of the pro- 
vince of North Holland. It is situated on the south 
bank of the Tj or Y, a culf of the Zuider Zee, in 52° 
23’ N latitude, and 4° 54’ E longitude. The name 
of the town was originally Amstelredamme, which 
signifies the dam or dyke of the Amstel, a river which 
in part runs through the city, distributed into several 
branches, all of which terminate in the Y, which is so 
called from its figure. 

The origin of Amsterdam is not of remote antiquity. 
In the early part of the thirteenth century it is known 
to have consisted merely of a few huts inhabited by 
fishermen. Its name first occurs in a letter of Count 
Floris, in the year 1275, in which he exempts the town 
of Amstelredamme from the payment of certain tolls or 
taxes. Until 1482 it appears only to have been sur- 
rounded by a weak palisade ; but then a wall of brick was 
built to protect it from the incursions of the inhabitants 
of Utrecht, who were continually at variance with the 
Hollanders, and looked with an evil eye on the rising 
city. The history of Amsterdam would, indeed, for 
many years, strikingly illustrate the truth, that next 
to strife at home, strife between near neighbours is the 
most frightful and disgusting. We willingly pass over 
the details of wrong and outrage with which this period 
is replete, and proceed to state that, after the states of 
Zeeland and Holland united, in 1578, with Brabant 
and Jlanders, in the pacification of Ghent, the advan- 
tages which Amsterdam offered for commercial enter- 
prise attracted crowds of strangers to the town, not 


only from the other provinces, but from all parts of 


Enrope; in consequence of which it began to assume 
that commercial superiority which had previously be- 
longed to Antwerp, and gradually attained that wealth 
and splendour which it so long afterwards maintained. 


The prosperity of this great city declined during the | 
wars and troubles of the fifty years preceding 1814; it 


appears since to have revived, but it has not regained, 
and cannot, perhaps, be expected to regain, its former 
relative importance. These latter facts may be ilus- 
trated by the statement, that the population of Ainster- 
dam was 230,000 in 1785; 180,000 in ISl45; and 
202,000 in 1830. 

The impulse given to the prosperity of Amsterdam 
at the period we have mentioned rendered it necessary 
greatly to enlarge the city. Accordingly we find that, 
in the year 1675, it had increased by one-half more than 
its former size,—and was then brought to its present 
extent. ‘The little alteration it has received during the 
lapse of the long subsequent period is very remarkable, 
and is indicated by the fact, that the stranger finds the 
plans which were made 100 or 150 years since quite 
as accurate guides as they ever were through the streets 
and to all the remarkable objects which the town offers. 
It at present covers a surface of about 15,790 geome- 
trical feet, and is said to be larger than Haerlem, 
Leyden, Delft, Rotterdam, and Dordrecht together, 
althongh these are all considerable towns. It is 
nine miles and a half in circumference, and is sur- 
rounded by a ditch eighty feet wide, full of running 
water, and with a rampart faced with brick, having 
twenty bastions, on each of which a windmill has been 
placed. "Towards the land the town has eight magni- 
ficent gates of stone, and one towards the shore. ‘he 
fortifications are now much neglected, and have been 
partly converted into public walks. 

The town of Amsterdam itself, in the simple circum- 
stances of its existence, is one of the most stnking 
monuments of human industry and power which the 
world affords. The adjacent country, along the banks 
of the Y, is four or five feet below the level of the river, 
from the irruption of which it is preserved by massy 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


317 


and ponderous dykes; and only an immense dam of 
the same kind secures the town itself from inundation, 
with which it seems every moment threatened by the 
brimful canals-and waters which surround it. Canals, 
indeed, intersect the town itself in every direction, 
dividing it into ninety islands, which are connected by 
means of two hundred and ninety bridges, some of 
Stone and some of wood : the river Amstel itself divides 
the town into two parts, the eastern or old, and the 
western or new part; the communication between 
which is by a bridge, partly built of brick and partly 
of stone, with thirty-five arches. This bridge is about 
six hundred and ten feet long, sixty-four and a half 
wide, and furnished with iron balustrades. The largest 
ships may pass through the eleven central arches. The 
borders of these canals are usually planted with trees, 
which, with the stagnant and feculent state of much of 
the water, is reasonably thought to be prejudiciai to 
the public health, and to afford a sufficient solution of 
the fact, that mortality in Amsterdam is, in proportion 
to the population, greater than in any other European 
city. The town itself is, indeed, built in the midst of 
i salt-marsh. In consequence of this, the foundation 
of all the houses and public buildings is formed by 
driving piles, of from fifty to sixty feet in length, 
through the swampy ground, until they rest firmly on 
a solid bank of sand below the morass. The upper 
ends of the piles are then sawed to a level, and thick 
planks are nailed to them, on which the masonry is 
constructed. This renders the foundation by far the 
most expensive part of an ordinary building. Struc- 
tures of this description are not nearly so precarious as 
the imexperienced might imagine. Some buildings 
have declined very much from the perpendicular, but 
are considered quite as secure from falling as before ; 
they are not thought equally secure from sinking, in 
case the sand should give way on which the piles rest. 
An event of this kind happened a few years ago, when 
a stack of warehouses, heavily laden with corn, sunk 
and totally disappeared. This mode of foundation gave 
occasion to the witticism of Erasmus, who said that in 
lis country great multitudes of people lived upon the 
tops of trees. 

The streets of Amsterdam are in general very narrow. 
Many that contain the houses of the most opulent 
merchants are not more than seventeen feet wide. 
There are, however, some very fine streets :—Kiezer’s 
Gragt, or Emperor's Street; Heeren Gragt, or Lord's 
Street; and Prissen’s Gragt, or Princes Street, are 
upwards of 140 feet wide, and are lined with houses 
the splendour of which would do honour to any town 
in Europe. All the streets are paved with brick, and 
a few of them have raised foot-paths for passengers ; 
hut as wheel-carriages are neither numerous nor are 
allowed to be driven with speed, the ways are nearly as 
safe as the flag-stone pavements of London. Most of 
the private houses are built of brick, painted and 
ornamented with different colours. ‘Their exterior is 
usually plain; the mterior of the houses, however, is 
sufficiently splendid, decorated very much in the French 
style, and the sides of the rooms are generally painted 
with landscapes in oil-colours. Having said thus much 
of the city in general, we shall devote the remainder of 
our space to its public buildings and institutions. 

The largest and most stately edifice, not only in 
Amsterdam but in the kingdom of Holland, is the 
Stadthouse, or town-hall, which appears so conspicuously 
in the centre of our wood-cut. It was begun in 1645, 
and was finally completed in 1655, at a cost of 300,000/. 
—an enormous sum for that time, but which ceases to 
surprise when it is considered, first, that it rests upon 
13,695 massive trees, or piles; and, then, that the build- 
ine—which is 282 feet in length, 255 feet in depth, 
and 116 feet high,—is constructed of a material which 


318 


is not to be found in the country. With the exception 
of the ground-floor, which is of brick, it 1s all built of 
freestone. Notwithstanding its prodigious size, the 
Stadthouse is not very magnificelt in its external ap- 
searance. The front is indeed ornamented with several 
statues of excellent execution; but most of them are 
lost in the view, except some fine bronze figures of 
Justice, Wealth, and Plenty, togcther with a colossal 
statue of Atlas, upholding the world, which appears 
upon the building. The structure is surmounted by a 
round tower, which rises fifty feet above the roof, and 
which contains a great number of bells, the largest of 
them weighing between six and seven thousand pounds, 
and their chimes are remarkably harmonions. The 
entrance into this building is by seven doors, intended 
to represent the seven provinces. ‘The omission of a 
grand entrance is said to be owing to the cautious 
foresight of the burgomasters who superintended the 
erection, who thought that, in case of popular tu- 
mult, the mob might thus be prevented from rush- 
ing in. The interior of the edifice is exceedingly 
superb; all the chambers being highly ornamented 
with marbles, statues, and paintings. There is a large 
magazine of arms on the second floor, which extends 
the whole length of the building, and contains a curious 
and valuable collection of ancient and modern Dutch 
weapons. On the top of the building there are six large 
cisterns of water, intended as a supply in case of fire, 
to prevent which all the chimneys are lined with copper. 
One of the courts of the Stadthouse was occupied as a 
prison, on two sides of which, below the ground, are 
the dungeons, the state of which seemed hardly 
compatible with the mild spirit of the penal code in 
Holland. We believe that imprisonment is usually 
very severe in that country; but this may be accounted 
for by the fact that life is rarely taken as a punishment 
for crime, and that the prisons therefore contain many 
criminals who, in most other couutries, would have 
suffered death. The treasures of the famous Bank of 
Amsterdam, the establishment of which, in 1609, so 
materially contributed to the prosperity of the town, 
were formerly deposited in strong apartments on the 
eround-floor of the Stadthouse. Before the war with 
Irance, it Was supposed to contain the largest quantity 
of bullion in the world; the precious metals heaped up 
there being estimated at not less than 40,000,0004/. 
sterling. ‘he French, however, were grievously dis- 
appointed when, after their entrance into Amsterdam, 
it was found that, instead of the immense treasures 
which the bank was reputed to contain, the deposits of 
cash had been lent out by the directors to public bodies, 
whose bonds were found there in great abundance. 
Nevertheless, it is to this day true that, in proportion 
to its population, there is no city in JSurope which 
contains so large an amount of disposable capital as 
Amsterdam ; and it is probably more owing to this cir- 
cumstance than to any other that it continues prosperous 
under the altered circumstances of the times. The 
Stadthouse is now used as a palace, to which purpose 
it was first appropriated by Louis Buonaparte, when 
king of Holland. 

Lhe Exchange, so long famous in the mercantile 
world, is a plain but stately fabric of freestone, covercd 
with tile, and is in length 230 feet, and 140 in breadth, 
Twenty-six marble columns support its galleries, which 
are entered by a superb staircase, leading from the 
gate. The building is fitted to contain 4500 persons, 
and is daily resorted to after mid-day by those con- 
cerned in mercantile business, 

The Church of St. Nicholas, or the Old Church, is 
of considerable antiquity, but does not claim particular 
notice in a general account of the town. The New 
Church is, however, a remarkably fine structure, and 
1s, by the Dutch at least, numbered among: the finest | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


nate his sufferings. 


[Aucust 16, 


churches in Europe. It is 350 feet in length and 210 
feet wide at the transepts; the upper part rests on 52 
pillars of hard stone, and the church is lighted by 75 
large windows, some of which are finely painted. The 
pulpit and organ are much admired. The former is 
adorned with various specimens of sculpture; and the 
organ has fifty-two whole stops, besides half stops, 
with two rows of keys for the feet and three rows for 
the hand, and a set of pipes that imitate with ad- 
mirable cffect a chorus of human voices. The choir of 
the church contains a marble monument of the great 
Dutch admiral De Ruyter. 

Amsterdam has three theatres, and other places of 
amusement such as are usually found in cities of 
similar extent. Jt contains also rather more literary 
and scientifie institutions than might at first view be 
expected in a place so exclusively cominercial. That 
called ‘ Felix Meritis’ is the principal: it is supported 
by private subscriptions, and is held in a large build- 
ing, containing some fine apartments devoted to plu- 
losophy, music, and the arts. 

Some of the public institutions of Amsterdam are 
very remarkable, and claim a brief notice in this place. 
The ‘ Rasphuis’ is a place in which criminals, whose 
offences are not capital, are employed to saw logs of 
wood ; and when they are indolent or refractory, they 
are shut up in a cellar into which water is allowed to 
run, so that if they do not work at a pump which is 
fixed there they must be drowned. It is, however, 
seldom neccessary to resort to this mode of punishment. 
The ‘ Spinhuis,’ or workhouse, is a very singular esta- 
blishment. In this building one part is devoted to 
women whose offences are not of an aggravated cha- 
racter, and another to convicts who have been guilty of 
more serious offences. ‘They are kept strictly apart, 
and the manner in which they are treated is very 
different; but they are all engaged in various useful 
employments. Young ladies, of respectable or even 
high families, are sometimes sent to this place on ac- 
count of undutiful behaviour or domestic offences, and 
are there obliged to put on a distinctive dress, and work 
a certain numbcr of hours every day. Husbands who 
have to complain of the extravagance of their wives 
may send them to the Spinhuis to acquire more sober 
habits ; and, on the other hand, a wife who brings a 
well-authenticated complaint of misconduct against her 
husband may have him accommodated with lodgings in 
the same comprehensive establishment, under the roof 
of which a great number of poor children are also 
maintained and educated. The hospitals and other 
charitable establishments of the city are very numerous, 
and are maintained partly by voluntary contributions, 
and partly by taxes imposed on the public diversions. 

For the statistical details relating to this town we 
heg to vefer the reader to the article * Amsterdam’ 
in the * Penny Cyclopedia,’ 





ABORIGINES OF CHILI. 


Tux principal chiefs of the Araucanian Indians are 
called Toquis, under whom are the Caciques. These 

have the administration of the few laws which are esta 
blished, and the exclusive power of life and death. 
There is no intermediate stage between death or ac- 
quittal. Execution is performed by all of the tribe 
who are present, each person pricking the criminal 
with his lance until he expires; or they prolong his 
miseries, if the crime be very great, by not allowing 
the wounds to be of sufficient depth speedily to termi- 
Adultery is considered the most 
heinous crime among them, and both parties are sub- 
ject to death ; but at the request of the injured husband, 
the woman may be pardoned, though she thenceforward 
becomes an outcast from society, Three or four Ca- 


1834.] 


eiques form a tribunal, and one witness is sufficient for 
or against tlie aceused; but the people are not con- 
sidered to have that strict idea of honour and truth 
which such a law would seem to indicate. They have 
also their wise men or prophets, who are sent for in 
case of sickness to give information which of the 
patient’s enemies has been the cause of it, and the 
person whom the prophet names is executed, if he can 
be caught. . : 

The people of this tribe style themselves Hyos del 
Sol, ‘* Children of the Sun,” and worship that Jumi- 
nary morning and evening, by prostration and orations, 
not forgetting the moon when she is visible. Their 
idea of death is that it is only a long sleep, to which they 
all are subject, and that during the interval they pass 
to a happier country on the other side of the sea. 
Many of the effects of the deceased are interred with 
him, under the impression that they may not be unac- 
ceptable to him in a future state. Marriage is consi- 
dered by them as simply a civil contract. When a 
man has selected a woman for his wife he commences a 
treaty with the parents, who, if willing, agree for so 
many head of cattle, and other presents, according to 
the finances of the man, without consulting the in- 
tended bride. A day is then fixed upon; and the 
husband elect comes in the night, accompanied by a 
few friends, to steal her away. A sham fight then 
commences between the parties, which usually lasts for 
three days, at the end of which the bridegroom is of 
course victorious, and makes prisoners of the other 
party, who are detained for some time, feasting’ and 
merry-making. Polygamy is allowed among them to 
the extent of the man’s ability to purchase wives and 
provide for them. But he cannot in any instance put 
them away, unless on a charge of infidelity or by 
mutual consent; and, in the latter case, the woman 
inust be returned to her parents with presents similar 
to those which were made at the period of marriage. 
Unmarried women wear a string of red beads round 
each ancle and wrist, which they abandon on becoming 
wives, when they are allowed to wear ornaments in 
tneir hair and ears. 

They barter their woollen cloths, which are the prin- 
cipal and almost only articles of comierce except 
cattle, for salt, indigo, and trinkets. Their weapons 
cousist of large wooden maces, slings, and lances from 
twenty-four to twenty-eight feet long, made of bamboo 
tipped with iron,—an unwieldy weapon, but which 
they handle with ereat dexterity. 

Previous to eating or drinking they dip their fore- 
finger three times into the vessel, and sprinkle three 
iimes over their heads, which are turned towards the 
sul; and they are particular in their ablutions before 
and after meals, They take especial care of their 
teeth which are generally beautifully white and regular. 
The belief that those who die go to a better world, 
prevents any mourning or symptoms of sorrow from 
being evinced on the occurrence of a death. A plant, 
called by them panene, very much resembling our 
rhubarb, is to them almost like the cocoa-nut to the 
Eastern nations: when young it is a nutritious food, 
some parts of it are taken medicinally ; and, when old, 
it is used for tanning. The Caciques are distinguished 
from the mass of the people by a plume of white 
feathers.—MS. Journal of « Voyage of Discovery. 


Drowning a Fish.—The ravenous nature and great 
strength of the shark are well known, yet the divers in the 
Wast-Indian pearl-fisheries think little of entering the lists 
against him, armed with a strong piece of wood sharpened 
at both ends. Awaiting the opening of his enormous 
mouth, they thrust in their arm, holding the wood perpen- 
dicularly, and his mouth being thus kept extended, he 
drowns,—Manuscript Journal of a Voyage of Discovery. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


319 


PRESENTS. 


Tuere is scarcely in language a word associated with 
feelings so different as those with which the word 
present” is heard in Europe and in Asia. In Europe,’ 
the offer and acceptance of a present is associated with 
feelings of esteem, love, and respect; while the word 
is scarcely ever heard by a European in the East 
without annoyance and disgust. Yet it is heard 
continually. In Persia, Turkey, Arabia, and Eeypt,— 
but particularly in Persia—a day does not pass over a 
stranger’s head, from his arrival to his departure, in 
which the claim for a present is not either openly urged 
or politely insinuated. It requires a subsequent resi- 
dence in Europe of some duration, and a rather strong 
effort of the understanding, to hear any mention of a 
present with tolerable composure, after having been 
subject to this annoyance in the East. There is scarcely 
any Oriental usage which the traveller in the East is so 
well prepared to illustrate by anecdotes as the system 
of presents. From a great number of instances which 
crowd on his recellection, the writer embodies a few in 
this paper, in the hope that they will prove more enter- 
taining to the readers of the ‘ Penny Magazine’ than 
those of them in which he was personally concerned 
did to himself at the time when they occurred. 

During our first journey in Persia, we found it 
customary for the chief person of any village where we 
stopped to send us, with many compliments, a tray 
of sweetmeats and fruits. On the first occasion, we 
received this proof of Persian politeness with much 
satisfaction, and, after reserving a portion of the agree- 
able donation for our own use, made over the remainder 
to the servants. We afterwards remarked, with some 
surprise, that the person who had brought the present 
was still loitering about in the yard with his tray. As 
he had declined what we considered a liberal remune- 
ration for bringing the tray, we had no idea that any 
thing more than curiosity detained him. We were 
therefore astounded to be informed by a uative servant 
that the man was waiting for the present for his master, 
—and that a pair of pistols, a shawl, or some other 
article of value, would be a very aeceptable return for 
commodities which might have been bought in the shops 
for half-a-crown. We made the best arrangement we 
could, but thenceforth accepted no more such presents, 
We presume that it was our apparent ignorance or 
backwardness on this occasion which produced the 
demand as from the master. It is generally understood 
that, on such occasions, the value of the difference 
between the presents given and those received belongs 
to the servant who brings the present. It is, indeed, 
by affording them such opportunities that the great men 
in Persia pay their servants, who do not, in general, 
recelve any other wages. ‘The masters are thus en- 
abled, at a trifling cost to themselves, to repay any 
obligations they may have incurred. When a par- 
ticularly advantageous return is expected, there is gene- 
rally a warm contest who shall take charge of the 
present, and the privilege is sometimes directly pur- 
chased from the master. Not only travellers, but 
residents in cities are exposed to this species of civil 
depredation. The king, the governors of provinces, 
aud the officers of state, can, by the above process, 
support a large number of domestics and dependents 
with little expense to themselves;:—they have only to 
send them with occasional presents to such persons as 
they think able to make a tenfold return. Instances 
are not wanting of persons who have been ruined by 
presents from the king ; and it is more than suspected 
that he participates largely, on such occasions, in the 
spoils made by his servants. It affords a convenient 
way In which an obnoxious person may be ruined, 


or a rich man plundered, without affording to the 


320 


Zujared party any room for complaint; indeed, he 
is supposed to be highly honoured and distinguished 
by the attentions which ruin him. For the master 
to bargain with the messenger for a share in what 
he receives as the bearer of a present is confessedly 
a mean practice; but it is now very extensively 
practised, and becomes, indeed, a thing well under- 
stood in Persia; and no person has contributed more 
than the present king to bring it into use. For in- 
stance, the king sends every year a dress of honour to 
each of his sons and others, the governors of provinces. 
‘The bearer of the dress is, or oumht to be, some person 
of note; he is treated with much distinction, and the 
governor is obliged to meet him at some village* in the 
neighbourhood of his principal city, to be invested with 
the robes of honour. As he is considered to indicate his 
sense of the royal favour by the amount of his present to 
the bearer, it commonly amounts to several thousand 
pounds. By right, and according to ancient usage, this 
sum belongs to the messenger, but now the whole is 
delivered to the king, who returns a trifling proportion, 
——perhaps from fifty to two hundred pounds,—to the 
messenger for his trouble. The consequence of this 
might be supposed to be that persons of inferior import- 
ance would be now employed to convey the keelué from 
the king to the honoured object of his favour. But 
this is by no means so generally the result as might be 
expected ; because it is well understood. that the king, 
in depriving the messenger of his proper remuneration, 
distinctly recognizes his right to make up, and more 
than make up, the difference by using the powers with 
which he is invested in levying contributions on the 
people in his way. This he fails not to do. 

While therefore this system of interested civility 
presses heavily upon the people who are compelled to 
accept the presents of a superior or of a public func- 
tionary, and to make a five-fold: return, it is a source 
of peculiar annoyance to a European residing in the 
Izast, whose modes of feeling have not at all prepared 
hin for the operation of the system. In his case, per- 
haps, no individual intends to draw heavily on his 
resources; but so many think they may draw a little, 
that the collective amount of these polite exactions is 
often very large. A person in a public situation, in 
particular,—an envoy or a consul,—will receive in this 
way as much fruit as would supply the shop of a London 
fruiterer, and as much game as would keep a London 
poulterer well stocked; and for this, most of which he 
is obliged to give away, it is necessary to pay sums, the 
amount of which makes a very serious impression even 
on the splendid income of an ambassador. Were it 
not for the consideration of the expense which this 
system occasions, it would be infinitely amusing to 
note the weakness of the strongest prejudices before 
the direct and indirect cupidity which it fosters. A 
great man, or any man, goes out to hunt: he encoun- 
ters a wild hog and kills it: while he regards the 
unclean beast with disgust, it occurs to him that the 
Europeans like hog’s-flesh, and that to them it is a 
rarity in a country where tame hog’s are not allowed to 
be kept. He therefore says, “ Take it to the infidel 
Elchee,” and the men, heedless of defilement, hurry it 
away ; and the Elchee, being on the one hand unwilling 
to give offence, and on the other having his appetite for 
pork sharpened by abstinence, directs a sum to be given 
for the carcase, which would astound a Newgrate-market 
salesman, notwithstanding the amazingly low nominal 
prices of provisions in the Kast as compared with those 
of this country. One of the strongest instances of this 
kind, showing the anxiety of the Oriental people to 
accommodate Europeans with presents, occurred, not in 
Persia, but in Turkey. A Mohammedan of rather 


* Such villages are usually called Keelut (the name of the dress), 
from theix appropriation to this purpose. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| Aueust 16, 1834. 


humble rank caught a very youne hoe alive on the 
bank of the Tigris, and, clapping it under his arm, 
strode away with it to our house. The observers, 
whose _notice. was attracted “by the grunting and 
screaming of the unclean beast, were, according to 
the man’s own report, perfectly satisfied when they 
understood that he was taking it asa present to the 
Enelish Agha. That gentleman, however, according 
to a rule he had adopted fer his guidance on such 
occasions, declined to receive the pig as a present, but 
was willing to make a fair purchase of it, and with this 
the man complied, after some demur, and after pleading 
for a consideration beyond the value of the animal, on 
the score of the pollution he had contracted in bringing 
it to the house. It should be understood that a hog is 
held in utter abomination by a Mohammedan. 

The annoyance of the state of things we have been 
describing, to a European, .is exhibited in so many 
different forms, especially while actually travelling, 
that it often requires much experience and great pre- 
sence of mind to avoid any measure which would be 
considered to authorise a demand for a present. ‘There 
seems a general conspiracy among all ranks and parties 
against his substance, and claims -for presents lurk 
continually around him, and assail him in ‘all his in- 
comings and outgoings. If the annoyance were limited 
to the wholesale exactions of persons of consideration, 
it might be tolerable: but the humblest villager and 
the poorest wayfaring man will. watch for hours his 
opportunity of intruding a pomegranate or a flower 
upon the traveller, and if it be inadvertently accepted, 
it is perfectly impossible to get rid of the man by any 
other means than that of a multiplied return. 

There seems an intense meanness exemplified in the 
whole system of presents in the East, which it is diffi- 
cult fully to express by words.’ So now, to state 
another form in which this meanness is developed, when 
a Persian of whatever rank is himself receiving a 
direct and actual present, and he does not happen to 
want, or is not particularly attracted by, the article 
offered to his acceptance, he has no feeling which would 
make him hesitate to ask that the article may be with- 
drawn, and the value of it given to him in money. It 
is usual for a new ambassador from a foreign power to 
approach the king with valuable presents; and the 
monarch has been known, on such occasions, to ask 
what certain articles, pointed ont by him, had cost; 
and, when informed, to say,—‘** Keep these things, and 
sive me the money!” ‘The wviter of this article was 
present in a company to which a Persian of distinction, 
who was once in this country, related, in his broken 
Iinglish, the following anecdote, without any other 
feeling, apparently, than that it would amuse his Ene- 
lish friends. The late prince Abbas Meerza once 
intended to present him with a shawl as a mark of his 
favour, and sent for a shopkeeper to bring some shawls 
to the palace, that he might select one suitable for lus 
purpose. Having fixed on avery handsome shaw], 
he inquired the price. The shopkeeper said, *‘ Thirty 
tomauns.” ‘“ I will give you twenty-five for it,” said 
the prince. ‘The man hesitated; and the object of 
princely favour took the opportunity of exclaiming to 
the prince, ‘‘ Give me twenty tomauns, and let him 
keep the shawl.” This was accordingly done, probably 
to the satisfaction of all parties,—the prince saving ten 
tomauns, the khan getting twenty tomauns, and the 
shopkeeper not being compelled to part with his goods 
at an unfair price. . 





*.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 


LONDON :-CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 


Printed by WiLt1am Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


& eee 








PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [AuGusT 23, 1834. 











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[Coach and Costume of Milan in the Sixteenth Century.] 


Coacurs are said to have been invented at the town 
of Kotse in Hungary, and Matthias Corvinus, the King 
of Hungary, to have been the first person who ever rode 
in a’coach. Corvinus, however, did not reien until the 
last half of the fifteenth century, and we have an edict 
of Philip le Bel, King of France, promulgated as early 
as the year 1294, prohibiting the use of carriages by 
the wives of citizens; the invention of the coach by the 
Hungarians could therefore have been little more than 
the addition of a roof, with perhaps some other conve- 
niences, to the carriages then in use. Some sort of 
vehicle for the purposes of luxury, or at least for the 
conveyance of females and infirm persons, was no doubt 
used in the earliest times. Among the nations of the 
Fast, who considered it disgraceful for women to be 
seen by strangers, and who at the same time were 
accompanied by their female relatives in processions or 
on military occasions, covered carriages were necessarily 
used in very early times, as we find mentioned in the 
histories of the Persian wars; though, if we may judee 
of the vehicle of the ancient Persians by that in use 
among their descendants, we shall form but a mean 
idea of their accommodation, the tukht-e-rowan, or tra- 
velling carriage of that nation, being little better than a 
chest suspended between two camels, 


Carriages were used by the Romans at an early 
Vou. II, 


t 


period, and their use increased so much, that it was 
thought necessary to pass a law, more than two hun- 
dred years before the Christian era, prohibiting females 
from using them within a mile of Rome. The absurd 
prohibition was however repealed within twenty years, 
and the.excitement produced by agitating the question 
is a proof that these vehicles were then much used. 
In the paintings preserved at Herculaneum there are 
some representations of carriages drawn by two horses, 
with a postilion on one of them. These carriages we 
not much unlike some of our post-chaises. 

. But in the long period of barbarism which accom- 
panied and followed the fall of the Roman empire, the 
traces of this and almost every other luxury were 
effaced, and little remained in the shape of a coach but 
the war chariots, which were still employed by some 
nations in their battles. ‘There is, however, little delay 
in the introduction of luxuries, when the possibility of 
indulging in them is obtained; and the edict of Philip 
le Bel proves that women at least used carriages at an 
early period ; though the state of the roads throughout 
Europe would prevent their general adoption, except 
in ceremonial processions, or in the neighbourhood of 
large towns. Even in the streets of cities the passage 
of a carriage must have been disagreeable and difficult 
from accumulated mud or dust; and to this cause pro. 


2 7T 


322 


bably we may be attribute the extension of London to 
the westward, as the convenience of river passage 
would induce noblemen and wealthy citizens to build 
near the Thames, rather than: be compelled to wade 
from their city residences to their country houses 
through the unpaved streets. In addition to the incon- 
venience, it was at first thought diseraceful for men to 
ride in coaches, unless in cases of illness or infirmity ; 
but this is always the case upon the introduction of any 
new species of luxury. The time is still within the 
memory of old persons when umbrellas were scarcely 
ever used but by females, and when the few gentlemen 
who carried such a luxurious novelty were ridiculed 
and even insulted: by those who a few years later were 
glad to avail themselves of the same convenience. 

In the fifteenth century coaches appear to have- been 
used in processions, or other public ceremonies, rather 
as an ornament than a convenience, if we may judge 
by the clumsy form of the vehicle. The entrance of 
the ambassador Trevasi into Mantua in a carriage 
is noticed as early as the year 1433; and that of 
Frederic III. into Frankfort in a covered coach, in 
che year 1475, It is a curious contrast to the rapidity 
with which new inventions are now adopted, that nearly 
a century elapsed before the covered carriage was in- 
troduced into England. Stowe, in his ‘ Chronicle,’ 
under the year 1555, mentions the introduction in 
these terms: ‘** This yeare Walter Ripon made a coach 
for'the Earle of Rutland, which was the first coach 
(saith he) that ever was made in England. Since, to 
wit, in anno: 1564, the said Walter Ripon made the 
first: hollow-turning coach, with pillers and archés for 
her majestie, beine then her servant. Also, in anno 
1584, a chariot throne, with foure pillers behind to beare 
a canopie with a crowne imperiall on the toppe, and 
before two lower pillers, whereon stood a lion and a 
dragon, the supporters of the armes of England.” ‘This 
chariot throne was used by Queen Elizabeth in 1588, 
when she went to St. Paul’s cathedral to return thanks 
for the delivery of her. kingdom from the Spanish Ar- 
mada. At this time coaches were so rare, that all her 
majesty’s privy council and attendants accompanied 
her on horseback, but they appear to have become 
numerous before the end of Queen Elizabeth’s reign. 
In 1600, four coaches- accompanied an embassy to 
Morocco through the city of London, and that of 
Russia, in the same year, mustered eight. A French 
mission of congratulation on the accession of James [., 
three years later, rode in thirty coaches from the 
‘Tower Wharf to the ambassador’s dwelling in Bar- 
bican, and returned to their lodgings in Bishops- 
gate Street in the evening, to the admiration of the 
citizens. 

But the coaches of the sixteenth century were far 
from being the elegant vehicles now in use; and the 
common stage or hackney coach is perhaps more com- 
fortable than the royal carriage of Queen Elizabeth, 
which must have been something like the lord mayor’s 
carriage of the present day, divested of its glass win- 
dows, and laid upon the axle without springs, like a 
waggon. When, in addition to these circumstances, 
we consider the state of the roads in those days, we 
shall not be surprised that even queens, on long jour- 
neys, preferred a pillion on horseback behind one of 
their officers,—a mode of conveyance now abandoned 
to farmers’ wives in remote viliages. 

The preceding cut may be considered a good re- 
presentation of the ordinary coaches of the sixteenth 
century; it is taken from the plan of an Italian city, 
engraved in the sixteenth century, where it appears to 
be conveying a party ol an excursion round the walls. 


One of the party is seated’ at the coach-door, where. 


we now place the steps, and the others inside, The 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Auaust 23, 


coachman is seated very low, the wheels are high and 
massive, and the horses are evidently tugging against 
a dead weight without springs,—much in the manner 
of a couple of horses-with an overloaded brewer’s dray. 
The addition of glass windows to coaches first appears 
at the beginning of the seventeenth century, and that 
of springs about forty years later. This last addition, 
the most important of all for the comfort-of the occu- 
pant and ease of draught, completed the coach as we 
now have it. It is still what it was then, a close vehicle 
suspended on springs, and furnished with doors and 
windows; increased skill and taste have produced a 
lighter, more elegant, and easier conveyance, but-in all 
its essential parts the coach remains unaltered. 


THE ISLAND OF HYDRA 


Hypra lies off the eastern shores of the Morea, 
between the gulfs of Nauplia and Aigina; it is one 
mass of rock, by nature as sterile as a body of recent 
lava—not a tree grows on its whole surface, a few 
shrubs merely may be seen scattered among the houses, 
and a few spots of ground cultivated as gardens at a 
great expense to the owners ;—no flocks feed on it, 
nor is its surface ever disturbed by a ploughshare. Yet 
the inhabitants—without soil—without a single well 
—without the natural possession of one article of con- | 
venierice or necessity—have become opulent by turning 
their attention to commerce, and in these seas rival the 
fame and enterprise of the ancient Pheenicians. 

The town is situated about midway along the 
northern shore of the island, around a small port. ‘The 
houses are built of stone, in the most substantial manner, 
and, with the exception of their flat tops, on European 
models; they are all kept excessively white, and piled 


one above another to a great height up the steep sides 


of the hills which enclosé the. port, resembling the form 
of an amphitheatre; but the crowded basin below, with 
the majestic stage of the sea, terminated by the distant 
scenery of the Peloponnesus, exhibit a spectacle in- 
finitely more striking and sublime than could be pre- 
sented in any theatre whatever. The streets, from the 
rugeed situation of the town, are precipitous and un- 
even, but their cleanliness is a strong recommendation ; 
this is, however, obtained at small labour, owing to the 
abrupt descent, by which the rain washes down all dirt 
into the sea. ‘The quay, which extends the whole sweep 
of the harbour, is lined with warehouses and shops, 
affording proof of the extent of their commerce. ‘The 
apartments of the houses are large and airy, and the 
halls are spacious, and always paved with marble; 
the walls are so thick as to supersede the necessity of 
sun-blinds in the niches of their deep-set windows ; 
but the neatness and extreme cleanliness of the habita- 
tions are peculiarly remarkable, and speak highly for 
the domestic employments of the Hydriot ladies. ‘The 
furniture, half 'Turkish, half European, combines the 
luxury of the one with the convenience of the other ; 
whilst its solidity and want of ornament show that it 
has been made for use and comfort, and not for 
ostentation. There are forty churches in the town, 
and two of them have steeples built of marble; the 
island is part of the diocese of Aigina. 

The population, amounting to upwards of 30,000, 
have a much more prepossessing appearance than that 
of any other class of Greeks ; the women are in general 
pretty; but an universal custom of wearing a hand- 
kerchief over the head, and tied under the chin, gives a 
roundness to the face which is no improvement. A 
short silken jacket, fitting close to the form, aud neatly 
ornamented, and a large petticoat, containing a gieat 
nuinber of folds and breadths,—generally’ of blue or 


1834.] 


green stuff, bordered with stripes of some eaudier colour, | 


—completes their simple costume. Their jetty hair, 
dark sparkling eyes, and graceful figures, enhanced 
by half-European manners, render them the most in- 
teresting females in the Levant. The men are almost 
always athletic and well-formed ; their dress is a short 
jacket, neatly embroidered, and full trousers reaching 
to the knee ;—their only weapon is a stout knife, and 
their only personal ornament is its handle. 

The Hydriots have no place of public diversion ; the 
greater part of the male population are always abroad, 
engaged in business, and the females lead a retired, 
sedentary life. There is but one decent coffee-house in 
the town, where occasionally some few assemble to play 
at cards and chess. Their attachment to their native 
soil is peculiarly strong, and no vessel belonging to the 
island ever passes without calling. 

Hydra was not inhabited by the ancients, and owes 
its prosperity entirely to a love of liberty. A few fisher- 
men and others, driven from the continent by the 
oppression of the Turks, formed the first nucleus of a 
town, to which afterwards numbers (chiefly from Albania 
and Attica) crowded ; and all those desirous of escaping 
Ottoman persecution abandoned the more fertile islands, 
which excited the cupidity of their masters, and sought 
upon this arid and rocky soil the blessings of freedom. 
For many years they had purchased from the Porte 
the privilege of governing themselves; no ‘Turk was 
resident on the island, nor even suffered to advance 
into the town beyond the quay. Their tnbute in 
money, which was but trifling, was always ready on the 
annual visit of the Ottoman fleet, to which, how- 
ever, they were obliged to furnish annually 150 sailors. 
Many served in it from choice, and a few had ad- 
vanced to the rank of Capitan Pasha. 

Their commerce, before the French Revolution, was 
but insignificant ; but when the French were shut out 
from the Baltic, it was the Hydriots who chiefly supplied 
thern with corn from the Levant; and they then began 
building larger vessels, and pushed their commercial 
speculations to England and America. Nearly all 
these vessels have been voluntarily given up to the 
glorious cause of liberating their country, and converted 
into ships-of-war and fire-ships, fitted out, for the most 
part, at the private expense of their Hydriot owners, 
and the trade of the island has in consequence greatly 
suffered. ‘The greater part of the male population are 
sailors, of whom they can send to sea 6000 efficient men, 
and they have justly gained the renown of being good 
seamen. ‘Their vessels also are well built, and very 
beautiful models. 

The narrowest part of the channel between Hydra 
and the main is four miles; the opposite coast of 
Argolis is very low and flat, but the depth of water in 
the channel is as much as 240 yards. The little port is 
not a quarter of a mile wide either way, but as it is so 
well sheltered, vessels lie close to each other and to the 
shore ;—the water in it is about fifty-five yards deep. 
By moonlight it presents one of the finest scenes 
imaginable ; the white houses of the city hanging on 
the steep sides of the mountain appear in the night 
like a mass of snow, and the lights sparkling in the 
distance from the open windows shine like stars of gold 
upon a silver ground. About three-quarters of a mile to 
the eastward is another small harbour, called Port Man- 
draki, and there is one (Port Molos) towards the west 
end of the island. A remarkable feature in the appear- 
ance of Hydra is the immense number of windmills, 
displaying their white sails from every crag; and the 
barren sides and summits of the rock are studded 
with monasteries, on one of which is a signal station 
commanding a very extensive view.to seaward, and 
hence the town receives early intimation of naval 
movements, ? 


@ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


323 


The defence of the town and harbour has been at- 
‘tended to with great care; the batteries at the entrance 
of the harbour are very strong and well constructed, 
and all the passes leading to the town are protected 
by forts, which, in addition to its naval strength, cansed 
Hydra to be respected by. the Turks during the war, 
who, with great reason, dreaded entering the channel 
between it andthe main, ‘on account of their fire- 
ships. 

The Hydriots preserve the taciturn character of the 
Albanians, from whom they are descended : they despise 
the mirth and loquacity of the Moreots; and though 
too much absorbed in commercial pursuits to attend to 
intellectual improvement, there are many who, from the 
intercourse with foreigners which that very circumstance 
has afforded them, are able to speak three or four Jan- 
guages. Within these few years, however, several 
schools have been established, in which the rising gene- 
ration are instructed in ancient and modern Greek, the 
vernacular language of the island being Albanese. 
There is a public library, and more than one journal has 
appeared, all strongly liberal in principle. The great 
desire of knowledge and natural aptitude for improve- 
ment will doubtless continue to give the Hydriots a 
leading hand in the administration of the affairs of the 
present kingdom of Greece, of which it now forms a 
part. - 


Horsemanship in Chilt.—The amazing number of horses 
with which the country is overrun has rendered the lower 
orders complete Bedouin Arabs. Even the poorest man is 
not without his horse, which can be purchased for the 
small sum of five or six dollars, nor will any one walk the 
length of a street. Continually on horseback, they think 
little of a journey of two or three hundred miles. Their 
legs become bent from being so constantly in the saddle, 
which consists of a number of sheep-skins dyed of different 
colours, strapped on the horses back and forming a wide 
but soft seat. The stirrups are mostly cut out of wood, 
ornamented with a little carved work, but still very clumsy. 
The orifice is Just sufficiently large to admit the toe; thev 
are partial to large spurs, and the rowels are sometimes even 
of the circumference of a dollar. They are all provided 
with the lasso, which is a thong of hide cut from the skin in 
one piece: one end of this is secured to the strap of the 
saddle, the other is kept (when likely to be required) coiled 
up in their left hand, with the noose exteided in their 
right. When about to throw it, they whirl it two or three 
‘times over the head, and then let it go. Itis very rarely 
indeed, perhaps never unless with young men, that they 
miss their mark: so dexterous are they in the use of this 
really formidable weapon, that they will catch an animal by 
the leg while running; and the horse seems to partake of 
his master’s skill; for if any powerful animal has been 
arrested by the lasso, he immediately places himself so as to 
receive the strain on his side, and leans over to counteract 
the shock. In attacking their enemies or committing 
depredations on each other, they watch the opportunity, 
while riding, just to throw the noose over them, and ride off 
at full speed, dragging the unfortunate victim over the 
mountains until life is nearly or quite extinct— Manuscript 
Journal of a Voyage of Discovery. 


Indian Notions of the East India Company.—As we 
sailed along the shore (near Calicut on the Malabar coast), 
boats came off to us at a distance of eight or ten mules, to 
sell us fresh provisions, which are cheap almost beyond 
belief. One of the adventurers, a little Indian, was so 
elated by the success of his speculation, that, as he stepped 
out of the shiv, he exclaimed, “‘ Long live the Company 
bahaudur !*’ The Company, to these people, is something 
like the Rebleh ahlum to the Persians; or the grand lama 
to the Tartars. They cannot conceive that any thing 
greater than the Company can exist among Europeans ; 
but whether it be human or divine few of them can decide, 
—Morier’s Second Journey. 


2 


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324 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


THE CUTTLE FISH. 


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THE marine animal represented in our wood-cut is the 
Octopus vulgaris. According to the arrangement of 
Lamarck, which is usually followed in describing the 
invertebral animals, the Octopus vulgaris is the type of 
the genus Octopus, in the subdivision Sepzaria of the 
order Cephalopoda, Before we state the peculiar cha- 
racteristics of the species before us, we shall offer a few 
general statements concerning the animals with which 
it is classed. 

The Cephalopoda may, in their external form, be 
revarded as nade up of two parts,—the body, con- 
sisting of a bag-shaped envelope which contains the 
viscera, and the head, surmounted by jointless arms, or 
feelers. If we consider these parts in detail, we find 
that the sac is, in some species, destitute of any 
eppendage, while others are furnished with fin-like 
expansions. In its consistence it varies greatly in 
different species. In some it is strengthened internally 
alone the back by horny ribs, or by testaceous plates 
such as that which is so well known under the name of 
‘** Cuttle-fish bone.” This substance was formerly 
much valued in medicine as an absorbent ; it is still 
prized by school-boys for the purpose of getting blots 
out of their copy-books, but is now chiefly used in 
polishing the softer metals. In other species the body 
is protected externally by spiral shells. In some of the 
species the head is connected with the body by what 
may be considered as a neck; but in others this is 
wanting. Between the head and the bag there is an 
opening or funnel, with a projecting aperture, which 
serves to convey water to the gills and to carry off the 
excreted matters. j i 

On the summit of the head is a flattened disc, in the 
centre of which is placed the mouth, which, in several 
species, has exactly the form and consistence of a 





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Jaws there is generally a horny tongue, and the cullet 
swells into a crop, the contents of which are remitted to 
a real gizzard,—fleshy, and very strone. The mouth 
does not appear in our wood-cut, for the margin of the 
disc in which it is placed is surrounded by the arms or 
feelers, which are usually eight properly, as in our 
specimen; but most of the species are also furnished 
with two organs, of similar structure but larger dimen- 
sions, which have been called the feet. Both the arms 
and feet are covered with numerous suckers, by which 
the animals are enabled to seize their prey and to 
attach themselves to bodies with great tenacity. The 
structure of these suckers is shown in the smaller 
wood-cut, which represents a transverse section of one 


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(Suckers of the Cuttle-Fish. } 


parrot’s beak. This is not the only organ in which a| of the arms of the Octopus. They are arranged in 
resemblance to birds is found; for between the two] rows, which are one or two in each limb, according to 


1834.] 


the species; the axis of each arm is furnished with a 
nerve and artery... ‘The eyes of the Cephalopoda are 
two, one on each side of the head: they are large and 


of a complicated structure, evincing great power of 


vision in the living animal; they coniplete the strange 
aspect of a head which M. Bory de St. Vincent fanci- 
fully compares to that of the mythological Medusa with 
its writhing serpents. They are furnished with ears, 
which are situated in the cartilage that supports the 
arms, but which have no external opening, nor are the 
covering intezuments thinner there than in the other 
parts. No organs corresponding to those of taste and 
smell have been discovered, but the sense of touch ap- 
pears to be extended over all the surface of the body, 
and to be developed with peculiar delicacy in the arms 
or feelers. 

Such of this class of animals as are best known 
exhibit a’degree of intelligence which the observer is, 
perhaps unnecessarily, surprised to discover in a creature 
of such appearance, and which that surprise possibly 
leads him to consider greater than it really is. ‘hey are 
endowed with considerable courage, mingled, however, 
with such discretion as prevents them from allowing 
any irascibility to bring them into a bodily and doubt- 
ful conflict with their opponents or intended prey, and 
have recourse to a very peculiar manceuvre to surprise 
their victims and escape their enemies. ‘They secrete a 
thick and inteusely-black fluid, which is reserved in an 
internal gland, and can_be discharged at will through 
the funnel. It mixes readily with water, which it dis- 
colours, and thus forms a covert in which the animal 
can conceal itself, or from which it can pounce upon 
its prey. ‘That the black fluid is employed for this 
purpose seems now to be generally allowed, although 
it is a point which was left donbtful by Swammerdam, 
who only remarks that the cuttle-fish which he found 
dead on the sea contained a greater quantity of this 
matter than those which were brought to him alive. 
He goes on to say,—‘ The liquid is insipid to the 
taste, without the least sourness or bitterness; so that I 
cannot see how this insipid substance, by being boiled 
with the cuttle-fish, can in the least contribute to give 
it an extraordinary relish, as those pretend who feed 
upon it, though the most general manner of using the 
fish is barely to give it a drying in the open air. The 
ink taken out of its bag and poured into a glass 
coagulates and grows hard in a few days, when it 
separates into a great many little pieces, which, ground 
upon a stone, afford the most elegant black paint. 
This convinces me that the Indians prepare their ink 
with nothing but this juice. I have even observed that 
this substance, while in a liquid form, struck so strong 
a black that no washing could get it out.” According 
to this conjecture of Swammerdam, it is now generally 
admitted that this fluid forms the basis of the Chinese 
ink, commonly called °° Indian ink,” which is so much 
esteemed in Europe for the useful and delicate gradua- 
tion of tints which it affords. 

All the species: of cephalopoda reside in the sea, and 
are widely distributed from the arctic to the equator ; 
but, like most other animals, attain their greatest size 
between the tropics. ‘They are nearly of the same 
specific gravity with the water in which they float 
about, and their motions are in a great measure regu- 
lated by its changes. It appears, nevertheless, that 
they are able to increase or lessen their weight, and 
consequently to rise or sink in the water at pleasure. 
Their progress in the water is generally slow even with 
their utmost efforts. 

Having given this general description of the class 
of animals in which the octopt are found, we have 
narrowed our ground in the deseription of the par- 
ticular genus; to which we now proceed. 


The Octopus has a fleshy body, obtuse below, and. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 325 


re 


contained in a bag that is almost round. It is in no 
part hard, having neither internal “ plate” nor external 
Shell. It is destitute of the two “feet,” but is provided 
with eight long and flexible limbs of equal size, tapering 
to the extremities, with which it embraces, in the man- 
ner of the constrictor serpent, that which it seizes. ‘The 
suckers hy which it so forcibly grasps the object of 
wiich it takes hold add not a little to the sensation of 
horror which its embrace inspires. Lamarck was inis- 
led, by the statements of Péron, to conclude that those 
species which, like this, had the body naked, round, 
aud destitute of fins (which, in the other Sepiaires, are 
the organs of motion), could not swim at all, but were 
obliged to crawl at the bottom of the sea. We are, 
however, bound to believe M. Bory de St. Vincent, 
who assures us that the octopus has the power of some- 
what lengthening its obtuse body, and can then, by the 


Means of its aris, work its way swiftly through the 


water. Not only are they able to divide the water, but 
it is their frequent practice to pursue their prey through 
it. -1t is true, nevertheless, that they prefer to remain 
among the rocks, where the crustaceous animals are 
their habitual prey; and, as they prefer the species 
which man uses for food, they do much injury to the 
fishing interest, when, towards spring, they resort in 
great numbers to the coasts. They are, however, them- 
selves sometimes used for food. ‘The flesh is not very 
delicate; and it is so firm and hard that it is usually 
well beaten in order to render it more tender and easy 
of digestion. 

Montfort, who was not ignorant of natural history, 
but whose imagination was not controlled by his know- 
ledge or good sense, has greatly exaggerated the intel- 
ligence of the octopi, and has related the most incre- 
dible things of their manners. He describes them as 
capable of all the tenderness and jealousy of love ; very 
ardent in combat, and bold assailants, attacking even man 
while swimming, and, by the enlacement of their arms, 
preventing him from all motion, and causing him to 
perish. ‘Their enemy or prey, interlaced, like a Laocoon, 
in the thousand folds of their horrible arms, drowns or 
is suffocated, while they strike into the body their for- 
midable vulture-beak and rend away the quivering flesh. 
Montfort adds, that some of the octopi attain to such 
an immense size, that he compares them to islands and 
mountains; and that the famous “ kraken” of the north, 
which we have been accustomed to regard as fabulous, is 
nothing else than an animal of this description, capable, 
not only of stopping a ship under sail, but even of up- 
setting it, in order to devour the contents. This writer 
even went so far as to introduce into Sonnini’s edition 
of Buffon the representation of a kraken dealing in this 
manner with a frigate. Deshayes and Bory de St. Vin- 
cent are both much offended with Montfort for his doings 
with the cephalopoda. The latter justly remarks, that 
such tales are highly discreditable in serious works ; and 
the former knows not whether most to admire the tales 
themselves or the effrontery of the author in concluding 
that he could make naturalists believe them. These 
are, however, rather exaggerations than inventions. It 
is certain that the octopi do attain to a very large size 
in the Indian seas; and there is nothing improbable in 
their taking hold of a man and drowning him. It is 
said that they also do sometimes grasp the boats under 
the water, and that the Indians carry hatchets with 
them to cut off the animal’s arms, and thus get rid of 
the danger and obstruction. 

When the octopi are irritated, they change their 
colour, passing from a reddish to a deep purple with 
oreat rapidity. ‘This power of varying its hue is much 
nore developed in this genus of cephalopoda than in 
the cameleon. 

The above account of the genus, in which only four 
species are described by Lamarck, applies of course to 


B26 


the individual species before us, which is only spe-. 
cifically distinguished by the cups arranged in double 
rows, and set somewhat apart, aad by the conical pro- 
longations of the skin which appear between the eyes 
and on the back. ‘This last characteristic was first no- 
ticed and described by M. Savigny, and is represented 
with g@reat exactness in one of the plates to the great 
work on Egypt, from which our wood-cut is copied. 


OLD TRAVELLERS. 


WiLuraAmM ve Rusruaquis.—No. III. 


Tux reception of the monk at the court of the great 
Manchu-khan was not very hospitable at first. ‘This 
court was chiefly an encampment. It is difficult to fix 
its position, but Rubruqnis says it was at the distance 
of twenty days’ journey from Cataya, or China. ‘The 
Tartars were astonished to see the monk come to court 
barefoot; but a boy, brought out of Hungary, ex- 
plained to them how, by the rules of the Minorite 
Order to which he belonged, he was obliged to go with 
naked feet. ‘The next day, however, the friar found the 
ends of his toes so frost-bitten by the extreme cold of 
the country that he was obliged to allow himself the 
temporary indulgence of warm ‘Vartar boots. 

A number of Nestorian priests, and others professing 
Christianity, were living tranquilly under the shadow of 
the khan’s court. One of these, in consequence of a 
vision, had arrived—and also from the Holy Land—only 
a month before Rubruquis. He was “ an Armenian 
monk, somewhat black and lean,—clad with a rough 
hair coat to the middle les, having over it a black cloak 
of bristles, furred with spotted skins, girt with iron 
under his hair-cloth.” This Armenian’s object was the 
conversion of the grand khan to Christianity. Manchu 
seems, indeed, to have been well disposed towards the 
Christians at this time. His favourite wife, but lately 
deceased, had been of that faith, and his first secretary 
was a Nestorian. | 

Nine days after his arrival at the court, Rubruquis 
was admitted to an imperial audience. The Tartars 
conducted him and his companions to the entrance of a 
large hall, which was not closed by wooden doors, but 
by curtains of felt. ‘There their persons were searched 
to see whether they carried any concealed arms about 
them. The Tartars then lifted up the felt curtains, and 
the monks entered the presence of Manchu-khan, sing- 
ing the hymn beginning—* A solis ortus cardine.” 
The great khan was seated on a bed, and he was clothed 
in a spotted skin or fur, bright and shining. (What 
the worthy monk calls a bed was probably much the 
same piece of furniture still mused as a seat by the 
Turkish sultan when he gives an audience of cereinony, 
and which is something between a post-bed and a.sofa.) 
He is described as ‘* a flat-nosed man of middle 
stature, about the age of five and forty years.” In 
approaching the mighty monarch, the friar merely says 
that he had to bend the knee, but we suspect he must 
have had to perform the cotow, or the long prostrations, 
and the knocking of the head nine times to the ground, 
as now exacted in China by the ‘Tartar emperors. 
Writing to the devout and scrupulous French king, as 
he does in relating these travels, Rubruquis evidently 
softens down matters more than once, in order to con- 
ceal how much he was abased by the Tartars, both as a 
minister of the Christian church and as a sovereign’s 
envoy. , 

He says that, at this audience, before they proceeded 
to any kind of business, Manchu invited them to drink. 
The friars partook sparingly of the liquor; but their 
interpreter, whose devotion to fermented mares’. milk 
we have already noticed, took his place by the side- 
board, and drank to excess. Rubruquis says that, 
when called upon to speak, he explained by means of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


fAucust 23, 


his tippling dragoman why he had come so far in 
search of the khan; entreated for permission to stay and 
teach his religion to both court and people; and stated, 
that though he had brought no wealthy presents or 
earthly goods with him, he could render heavenly 
services. ‘* Thus far,” says the friar, with much 
simplicity, ‘‘ I understood my interpreter, but further I 
could not perceive any perfect sentence; whereby I 
easily found he was drunk, and Manchu-khan himselt 
was drunk also, as I thought.” It must certainly have 
been most mortifying to the friar, who was solemnly 
impressed with the importance of his mission, to find 
that, after the dangers and fatigues he had undergone, 
all that he could obtain from the great khan was per- 
mission to remain in the country for two or three 
months until the cold season should be passed. ‘The 
people about the court of Manchu, like those he had met 
with at the court of Sartach and elsewhere, questioned 
him touching the riches, but evidently cared little for 
the religion of Europe. Their tolerance arose from 
indifference: they placed the Christian priests they 
were acquainted with in the rank of conjurors and 
quack-doctors ; and the conduct of these priests was 
not calculated to elevate them or their faith in the eyes 
of the Tartars. Rubruquis found the Nestorians pre- 
tending to be in possession of the faculty of working 
miracles, and curing disease only by administering 
holy-water and exhibiting the crucifix to the sick. But 
in looking into this matter, the friar discovered, to his 
astonishment and horror, that they mixed rhubarb with 
the holy-water, which they gave their patients to drink 
in copious doses; that they carried lances, and swords 
half drawn out of their sheaths, as well as the Cross, to 
the side of the sick bed; and that, in short, in all their 
religious ceremonies, they mingled Tartar rites and 
Pagan superstitions with corrupted observances of the 
Catholic church. He endeavoured to impress on the 
minds of these Nestorians that they were acting 
wickedly in all this; but they would not be convinced. 
Some time after, the Pagan Tartars, the Mohamme- 
dans,—of whom many had already penetrated into this 
part of Asia,—and the Christians, were assembled, by 
order of Manchu-khan, to debate in pnblic on the 
merits of their respective faiths. Rubruquis took part 
in this debate, but, owing probably to the habits of his 
interpreter, he seems to have made no converts. ‘The 
meeting, however, ended without violence or dissension, 
for when all parties had spoken, “ they all drank 
together abundantly.” While at this encampment, the 
friar became acquainted with a Christian woman from 
Metz in Lorraine. She had been taken captive by the 
Tartars in Hungary, and carried into the desert ;—at 
first she suffered g@reat misery, but having married a 
young Russian, who was also a prisoner, and who 
understood the art of building wooden houses (a craft 
much esteemed by the Tartars), she became tolerably 
comfortable, and the mother of three children. 

A few weeks before Easter, Mancliu-khan broke up 
from his encampment, and, crossing the Changai chain 
of mountains, went on to Kara-korwm, or Karakim, a 
city on the east side of the river Orchon. He took 
Rubruquis and his companions with him, and, on the 
way, he entreated them to pray to God in their own 
fashion for milder weather, as it was intensely cold and 
stormy among the mountains ; and many of the mares, 
ewes, and other animals in his train, were with young, 
and about to bring forth. On Palm Sunday, at day- 
break, they were near Kara-korum, and the friar says 
he blessed the willow-boughs he saw on his road, 
though as yet there were no buds upon them. ‘This 
Kara-korum, of which no traces have been found in the 
desert for some centuries, is said by Marco Polo, who 
visited it about eighteen years after Rubruquis, to have 
been the first city in which these Vartars ever fixed 


1834.] 
their residence. The Venetian also informs us that it 
was surrounded by a strong rampart of earth, there 
being no good supply of stone in those parts ; and that 
outside of the rampart, but near to it, there stood a 
castle of great size, in which was a handsome palace 
occupied by the governor of the place. In Rubruquis’ 
time, this palace was occupied by the grand khan him- 
self. It was built, as well as the city of Oktai-khan, 
by the son and successor of the great conqueror Gengis- 
khan, about the year 1235, Oktai-khan’s nephew, the 
Manchu-khan so ‘often mentioned, was the first of the 
dynasty that made it his principal residence. Ru- 
bruquis says of the city,—** There are two grand streets 


in it, one of the Saracens, where the fairs are kept, and 


many merchants resort thither, and one other street of 
the Catayans (Chinese), who are all artificers.” We 
may remind our readers here that the Tartars had 
already conquered a great part of Northern China, and 
that the whole of that empire fell under Kublai, 
Manchu-khan’s immediate successor, in 1280, or about 
a quarter of a century after Rubruquis was at the 
Tartar court. 

Established in the city of Kara-korum, the friar 
found, to his surprise, a French goldsmith, who had a 
wife born in Hungary, of Mohammedan parents, and a 
son born to himself in ‘Tartary. There was, moreover, 
one Basilicus, the son of an Englishman, who had also 
been born in Hungary. This Basilicus, the gold- 
smith’s wife, and son, were all skilled in the languages 
of the country, and could talk French as well. The 
eoldsmith lnimself is. described by our friar as being an 
exceilent interpreter, a rich man, in-high favour with 
the khan, and an artisan of surpassing ingenuity. He 
had just finished what he considered his master-piece, 
which, if the description of it has not been exaggerated, 
must really have been a piece of mechaiism of no 
mean merit for the thirteenth century. According to 
Rubruquis, ‘“‘ In the khan’s palace, because it was 
unseemly to carry about bottles of milk and_ other 
drinks there, Master William made him a great silver 
tree, at the root whereof were four'silver lions, having 
each one pipe, through which flowed pure cow’s milk, 
and four other pipes were conveyed: within the body of 
thé tree unto the top thereof, and the tops spread back 
again downwards; and upon every one of them was a 
golden serpent whose tails twined about the body of 
the tree. And one of these pipes ran with wine, another 
with caracosmos, another with ‘ ball,’ z. e, a drink 
made of honey, and another with drink made of rice. 
Between the pipes, at the top of the tree, he made an 
angel holding a trumpet, and under the tree a hollow 
vault, wherein a man might be hid; and a pipe 
ascended from this vault through the tree to the angel. 
He first made bellows, but they gave not wind enough. 
Without the palace walls there was a chamber wherein 
the several drinks were brought; and there were ser- 
vants there ready to pour them out-when they heard 
the angel sounding his trumpet. And the boughs of 
the tree were of silver, and the leaves and the fruit. 
When, therefore, they want drink, the master-butler 
crieth to the angel that he sound the trumpet. Then 
he: hearing (who is hid in the vault), bloweth the pipe 
strongly, which goeth to the angel, and the angel sets 
his trumpet to his mouth, and the trumpet soundeth 
very shrill. Then the servants hearing which are in 
the chamber, each of them poureth forth his drink into 
its proper pipe, and all the pipes.pour them forth from 
above, and they are received below in vessels prepared 
for that purpose.” 

‘he name of the French goldsmith, the maker of this 
‘most artificial silver tree” was William Bouchier: 
he was son of Lawrence Bouchier; and at that time he 
had a brother called Roger, who “ was yet living upon 


the great bridge at Paris.’ He is frequently men- [/ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


3047 


tioned under the name of William of Paris by old 
travellers and other early writers. It so chanced that, 
while Rubruquis was still at Kara-korum, Master 
William fell sick, and a Nestorian monk gave him so 
much rhubarb in his hely water that he was brought to 
death’s door. On learning this our traveller went to 
the said monk, and entreated him either to proceed 
“as an apostle doing miracles indeed, by virtue of 
prayer, or to administer his potion as a_ physician, 
according to the art of medicine.” 


ISAAC AND JOHN WILKINSON. 


Tur use of coke in smelting iron would probably have 
been impracticable to any considerable extent, unless under 
peculiarly favourable circumstances, if the assistance of the 
powerful blast of the steam-engine had not been cailed in 
to act on the kindled fuel. The possibility of adapting the 
new mechanical force to the production and maintenance of 
a continuous and sufficiently-forcible stream of air was first 
perceived by Mr. Isaac Wilkinson, an eminent iron master, 
who first employed coke as fuel under the influence of a 
steam-urged blast. His son John carried into full operation 
the speculations of his father. When Messrs. Bolton and 
Watt first commenced their manufactory of sleam-engines, 
John Wilkinson was the only person competent to execute 
their castings. They were made by him at his foundry 
near Wrexham. At this foundry all the ponderous castings 
for the steam-engines required at the Cornish mines were 
executed, and conveyed through the whole weary distance 
by Mr. Wilkinson’s teams, until a disagreement between 
the contracting parties led to the erection of the magnificent 
founding establishment at Soho. A note in the first part of 
an interesting work on ‘ Birmingham and its Vicinity,’ by 
Mr. Hawkes Smith, informs us that “ John Wilkinson was 
a man of remarkable vigour and determination of mind. 
In private life there was a waywardness and harshness 
about his character that detracted from the degree of esti 

mation in which he would otherwise have been held. But 
this very defect, on the other hand, perhaps enabled him 
the more steadily and unflinchingly to carry into execution 
those improvements in the iron manufacture of which he 
felt assured it was susceptible. His father, Isaac Wilkin 

son, wanted that firmness and constancy of purpose that 
distinguished his son, but was possessed of quick discern 

ment and versatile talents, and was by them elevated from 
an originally low condition. ‘ I worked,’ said he, ‘ at a 
forge in the North. My masters gave me 12s. a-week ; 
I was content. They raised me to 14s.;—I did not ask 
them forit. They went on to 16s. and 18s. ;—I never asked 
them for the advances. They gave me a guinea a-week. 
I said to myself, ‘ If I am worth a guinea a-week to you, I 
am worth more to myself! Ileft them.’ He first brought 
into action the steam-engine blast, at his works near Wrex- 
ham. ‘I grew tired of. my leathern bellows,’ said he in 
his old age to a young friend,:‘ and I determined to make 
tron ones. Every body laughed at me; but I did it, and 
then they all cried, ‘Who could have thought it!’ To® 
the same gentleman, in 1779, he said, ‘ You will live to 
see waggons drawn by steam. I would have made such a 
waggon for myself, if I had time.’ He was on the verge of 
an important discovery, for he distilled coals in order to 
extract the tar, as Lord Dundonald did some years after 

wards, without being aware that the gas evolved might be 
detained and made highly useful.” John Wilkinson died 
In 1808, at the age of eighty years. A tablet of cast-iron 
points out the spot—an excavation in a rock on his estate at 
Castle Head, Westmoreland—where his remains repose in a 
coffin, constructed under his own direction, also of cast-iron. 








Mode of Salutation among the Gambier Islanders.— 
Their mode of salutation is touching or rubbing noses, In 
which they have, as in our shaking hands, different degrees: 
for instance, drawing down the septum, holding the breath, 
continuing the contact for some seconds, and finishing with 
a most unwelcome sniff, is considered equivalent to a hearty 
shake of the hand. ‘his unpleasant ceremony we had to 
undergo’ at least a hundred times, repeating it often to the 
same person,—Manuscripé Journal of a Voyage of Discovery, 


| tie endl nme, 


3293 


Bathing, Cleanliness, Care of the Skin, Bc. —A person in 

sound health and strength may take a ‘bath at any time, 
eee immediately aftermeals. * * * Cleanliness and 
attention to the health of the skin is most influential in pre- 
serving the tone of the nervous system, and in contributing 
to mental and bodily comfort. “ * * Ifa bath cannot 
be had at all places, soap-and-water may be obtained every 
where, and leave no apology for neglecting the skin; or, as 
already mentioned, if the constitution be delicate, water and 
vinegar, or water and salt, used daily, form an excellent 
and safe means of cleansing and gently stimulating the 
skin :—to the invalid they are highly beneficial, when the 
nature of the indisposition does not render them improper. 
A. rough, rather coarse, towel is a very useful auxiliary in 
such ablutions. Few of those who have steadiness enough 
to keep up the action of the skin by the above means, and 
to avoid strong exciting causes, will ever suffer from colds, 
sore throats, or similar complaints; while, as a means of 
restoring health, they are often incalculably serviceable, 
If one-tenth part of the persevering attention and labour 
bestowed to so much purpose in rubbing down and currying 
the skins of horses were bestowed by “the human race in 
keeping themselves in good condition, and a little attention 
were paid to diet and clothing, colds, nervous diseases and 
stomach complaints would cease to form so large an item 
in the catalogue of human miseries. Man studies the nature 
of other animals, and adapts his conduct to their constitution ; 
—himself alone he continues ignorant of and neglects.— 
The Principles of Physiology applied io the Pr eservation of 
Health—By ANvREW ComBeE, M.D. 


POLA-PHUCA. 
Tuere is not perhaps in the United Kingdom a richer 
collection of natural objects and beautiful scenery in so 
limited a compass, than is contained in the county of 


TUE PENNY M Pea 


i, AUGUST a3 1634. 


Ireland. Ad not only is it rich in natural otenetn 
but it also presents an interesting field of research to 
the antiquarian ;—the ruins of Glandalough, situated 
amid the silence and solitude of Nature, er indicating 
a ‘‘ city in the desert,’ are of themselves sufficient to 
arrest attention and invite examination. 

Of the three waterfalls in the county of Wicklow, 


Pola-Phuca is the most striking and remarkable. The 
Dargle is not properly a waterfall, though the citizens 


of Dublin are disposed to term it such. Powerscourt 
cascade descends from a vast height, but the stream of 
water is inconsiderable, except during or immediately 
after wet weather; in dry weather it has the appearance, 
at a short distanae, of a fine silver thread gliding down 
the face of a steep rock. Pola-Phuca, or, as it is some- 
times written, Powl-a-Phouka, is formed by the descent 
of the waters of the river Liffey, a considerable stream, 
which, in leaping down several ‘progressive ledges 
of rocks, brawls and foams till the precipitated waters 
form a vortex below of great depth, and supposed 
by the peasantry to be ‘unfathomable. Pola-Phuca is 
understood to signify Puck’s, or the Devil’s Hole, an 
expressive term suggested by the whirlpool. Tt’ is 
not far from Rossborough, the seat of Lord Milton, 
on the left of the road ‘Jeading from Blessington to 
Balymore ; and, though situated on the confines of the 
county of Wicklow, forms a strong attraction to the 
citizens of Dublin and strangers visiting the metropolis, 
in their rural excursions. -°— . ; 

A bridge thrown over it higher up the river than is 
shown in our view, contrasts strongly with the masses 
of rock impending on both sides, and affords a verv 


Wicklow, and within a day’s drive of the metropolis of | picturesque effect. 


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*«* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 
LONDON :—--CHARLES KNIGIIT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 








a ep Ee SK ga OS 


Printed by Witrzam Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge, 





154.) PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Aucusr 30, 1834. 








HOGARTH AND HIS WORKS.—No. V. 


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IPP EPIL STAT? ! z [ 
Za LEPLLOT TO DIY TEDUIDIL LOPES NEES 


THE principal figure in this work of Hogarth is under- | known as one of the editors of Shakspeare. Of this 
stood to be a portrait of Lewis Theobald, who is best | author the world has probably formed too unfavourable 


Vout. II. 2U 





330 


an opinion, in consequence of the ridicule which sur- 
rounds his name in Pope’s * Dunciad’ His edition 
of Shakspeare is by no means a contemptible perform- 
ance, although his poems and plays are forgotten. 

The print before us is an admirable composition ; 
and the instruction which it contains lies deeper than 
the merely ludicrous effect at which it might be sup- 
posed the: artist had aimed. The poet is the represen- 
tative of a class that the world has been always too 
much inclined to treat with cold contempt or more 


insolent pity. ‘The poor and unknown man of letters, { 
surrounded with all the discomforts that belong to an | — 


ill-conditioned domestic life,—and yet, in the midst of 
filth and wretchedness, surrendering himself.to day- 
dreams.of wealth and greatness,—is a being that most 
people are inclined to sneer at. But let the same 
author work himself into reputation and compara- 
tive prosperity, and the same people agree to idolize 
and flatter him—to make fétes to exhibit him—to give 
dinners to hear him talk—to patronize as if they were 
the patronized. All this proceeds from mistakes on both 
sides. The author sees the public through a false 
medium, and the public have been pampered into an 
equally false estimate of the literary character. 

The apparently wretched, but perhaps not totally 
unhappy, being that Hogarth has delineated, is cccu- 
pied in the composition of ‘ Riches, a Poem.’ His 
ideas do not appear to flow with much facility ;—and 
his similes, and metaphors, and rhymes, are to be sought 
in ‘ Bysshe’s Art of Poetry,’ which lies on his table. 
He sits half-clothed in his morning-gown, while his 
wife mends his one nether-zarment, and his one shirt 
and ruffles are drying at the fire. His dress-sword is 
kicked about the floor, and the cat suckles her kittens 
on the coat which is to be paraded in the eveiiig at 
the coffee-house or the theatre. His infant is vainly 
screaming in bed for a mother’s help :—the poor woman 
is engaged in the not very feminine occupation of re- 
pairing her husband’s out-door habiliments, and in 
helplessly listening, with her “ mild, patient face and 
eesture,’ to the remonstrances of the saucy milk-woman, 
who exhibits a tally, which nothing but the most hope- 
less poverty would have allowed to accumulate. The 
poet is insensible to the degradation which his gentle 
wife must endure: and he resigns himself to his filthy 
garret, and to the inconvenience and disorder of his 
whole household arrangements, to compose ‘ Riches, 
a Poemn,’—or study ‘A View of the Gold Mines of 
Peru.’ When his miseries arrive at their height,— 
when the milk-woman will trust not another penny- 
worth, and the baker talks of applying to the ‘‘ Court 
of Requests,’—he will resort to the ‘ Grub Street 
Journal,’ a copy of which hes on the floor, for his 
means of existence. ‘This is the last deeradation,— 
equivalent to writing, at the present day, dishonest 
reviews,—attacking individual character,—or garbling 
and misrepresenting private documents, because they 
are private, From such sins even literary Journals 
of our own time are not exempt. 

Aud what is to prevent a man of letters from falling 
into the same pitiable condition as Hogarth’s ‘ Distrest 
Poet? First, a careful examination of his own quali- 
fications before he adventures upon the perilous sea of 
literature, as the business of his life ;—and, secondly, a 
Just appreciation of the objects to which this dedication 
of his faculties and acquirements may be applied with 
real advantage to himself and to mankind. 

In the first place, many men, especially young 
men, fall into the mistake of despising the toil of 
trade, and of neglecting the indispensable studies of a 
profession, for the purpose of surrendering themselves 
to a dreamy belief that the vocation of an author is one 
of constant ease,—that he has nothing to do but watch 
the “ moods ‘of his own’ mind”—that flights of fancy 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[Auausr 80, 


may be readily coined into guineas—and that “‘ genius,” 
as they call it, is above all rules and all laborious dis- 
cipline. A man of real ‘‘ genius ”—but one whom the 


| very force of his talent would lead to know the value of 


constant exertion—has beautifully described the delu- 
sions of this feeling :— 
‘‘ My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought, 
As if life’s business were a summer mood ; 
As if all needful things would come unsought 
To genial faith, still rich in genial good ;— 
But how can he expect that others should 
Build for him, sow for him, and at his call 
Love him, who for himself will take uo heed at all ?” 


This is precisely the mistake into which the young man 
who thinks his genius is to do every thing—who expecis 
‘¢ that others should huild for him, sow for him,’—in- 
variably falls. His “ genius” will do nothing for him 
without cultivation. If he cast himself upon the world 
without an independence and without a profession, 
fancying °* all needful things will come unsought,”— 
above all, if with these unreasonable expectations he 
rush into marriage—the state of ‘The Distrest Poet’ 
will but feebly exhibit the wretchedness that awaits him. 
He will be haunted by thoughts of 


“the fear that kills ; 
And hope that is unwilling to be fed ; 
Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ils ; 
And mighty poets in their misery dead.” 








Wordsworth, from whose fine poem, * Resolution and 
Independence,’ these and the preceding lines are ex- 
tracted, describes himself as recalled to the trusting 
state of mind which is founded upon a contemplation 
of what strenuous exertion can do, by hearing the story 
of a poor old man, who wandered about year after year, 
and gained a livelihood by gathering leeches out of the 
pools of barren moors :— 


‘T could have laughed myself to scorn to find 
In that decrepit man so firm a mind, 
‘ God,’ said 1, ‘ be my help and stay secure ; 
I'll think of the leech-gatherer on the lonely moor,’ ” 


The leech-gatherer was a useful member of society, for 
he ministered, in however small a degree, to the relief 
of the sick and the wounded: the poet, who has laid 
the leech-gatherer’s example to his heart, is a highly 
useful member of society, for, by diligent cultivation of 
his powers, he is enabled to elevate the moral sense, 
while he promotes the intellectual enjoyment, of that 
oreat body of people, in all parts of the earth, 


‘“‘ Who speak the tongue that Shakspeare spake.” 


Without cultivation, he would, perhaps, have been a 
scribbler in a garret. 

The objects to which a literary man may dedicate his 
faculties with advantage need not here be recited. The 
unerring guide of his pata must be a desire to be nseful. 
Whether he yield himself to the refinements of elerant 
literature, or devote his whole mind to conquering the 
difficulties of science and philosophy, the widest field of 
utility lies before him. It is the desire to cultivate this 
field which can alone give dignity and consistency to 
his exertions. This desire will prevent his being a 
flimsy essayist or a fraudulent reviewer ;—it will save 
him from becoming a minister to a depraved appetite 
for scandal ;—it will render him not ashamed of being 
called a drudge and a compiler by those feeble persons 
who consider learning and dulness as synonymous, If 
he thoroughly obey the impulses of this desire, he may 
find even literature a gainful profession :—he may be 
the head of a happy household ;—he may be honoured 
without the aid of a patron;—he may trust to the ap- 
probation of the people, and despise the applause of 
clubs and coteries, who erect temples to -selfishness in 
the name of society, and end in becoming their own 
worshippers. =. bene 


_" 


1834.] 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Section XXII. 


[The author of the Articles in the ‘Penny Magazine’ on the pro- 
ducts of the ‘ Mineral Kingdom’ has been for a long time 
prevented from continuing the series by matters of urgent 
importance requiring his attention, He hopes to be able to send 
his contributions henceforth at short intervals. ] 


Ix conformity with the plan upon which we set out, 
the next product of the Mineral Kingdom of which we 
propose to treat isIron. Of all the substances which 
we derive from the bowels of the earth, this is the 
most indispensable to our wants. In whatever situation 
we thay be placed, we cannot look around us without 
iron meeting our eye in some shape or other; and even 
where it is not seen, it has been more or less employed 
in producing almost every object that ministers to our 
necessities, our comforts, or our luxuries,—in short, it 
has been one of the great instruments by which the 
civilization of the human race has been accomplished. 

_ Next to,coal, iron is the most important of the 
mineral treasures of the United Kingdom, and forms 
one of the main sources of our national wealth. The 
total amount of coals raised annually in Great Britain 
and Ireland cannot be less than 20,000,000 of tons; 
and taking seven shillings a ton as the average price at 
the pit’s mouth, we have a total value of 7,000,000/. 
The gross quantity of iron produced by the furnaces of 
Great Britain has been calculated to amount annually 
to about 700,000 tons; and the value of pzg-iron, as it 
is technically termed,—that is, iron in its rudest state, 
before any other labour has been expended upon it 
beyond what was necessary to extract the metal from 
the ore,—at the present market price of 5/. per ton, 
eives a total value of 3,500,000/. 

But before proceeding with our account of the 
natural history of iron, some preliminary observations 
on metals in general will be necessary for such of our 
readers aS are unacquainted with chemistry and mi- 
neralogy. All branches of science are so intimately 
connected one with another, that it is scarcely possible 
to give an intelligible popular view of a part of any 
one of them without presupposing in the reader some 
acquaintance with others. Scientific terms and hard 
names must of necessity be used in those cases where 
there are no other forms of words by which the meaning 
can be conveyed. 

The term metal is applied to those mineral sub- 
stances which exhibit, when in a state of purity, that is, 
when freed from combination with foreign ingredients, 
the following properties :—They are impenetrable by 
light, even when beaten out into plates or leaves of 
extreme thinness, and are therefore said to be opaque ; 
they have that peculiar shining lustre which we term 
metallic; they are combustible, but at various degrees 
of heat; they are good conductors of héat and elec- 
tricity, that is, heat and electricity pass rapidly through 
them; and they are, for the most part, heavy when 
compared with other bodies, and are thus said to have 
a high specific gravity. This last property, however, is 
not universal, for some are so light as to swim on the 
surface of water; but all the metals known in common 
life ave heavy bodies, the lightest of them being nearly 
Seven times as heavy as water, bulk for bulk. There 
are three other distinctive properties of metals, which, 
however, are not common to all of them, and vary in 
degree, viz. malleability, or the property of being 
capable of being hammered into thin plates or leaves 
(from malleus, Latin for a hammer) ; ductility, or the 
property of being capable of being drawn out into wire 
(from ductilis, Latin for easily drawn); and tenacity, 
or the property of supporting a heavy weight without 
breaking (from tenaz, Latin for holding fast). Metals 
are, moreover, fusible (from a part of a Latin verb 
signifying to melt), thatis, are capable of being melted 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


dol 


of them being liquid at the ordinary temperature of the 


air,—such as mercury or quicksilver,—others requiring 
the strongest heats we are capable of exciting in our 
furnaces before they will soften. 

The number of metals hitherto discovered amounts 
to forty-two, but we shall confine ourselves at present to 
those which are used in the metallic state in the 
business of common life, and.of which there are eleven, 
viz. gold, silver, mercury, iron, copper, tin, ‘ead, plati- 
num, bismuth, zinc, and antimony. Of these the first 
seven only were known to the ancients. Specific 
gravity is the property which has been determined with 
the greatest degree of precision, and how various that 
is will be seen by the following table. An equal bulk 
of distilled water, at the temperature of 60°, is taken as 
the standard of comparison, and is represented by the 
figures 1°00. 


Platinum... 20°98 SiIveWe. . 5 10°47 Pere ets ss 7°29 
Golgi... » Fez ‘Bismuth... 9°82 sme. wee. T° 
Mercury... 13°56 Gopper.... 8°89 Autimony.. 6°70 
Perc.) NI: so TOD... cess 4°18 


All these metals are found to stand in entirely different 
orders, when we arrange them according to their 
respective specific gravities, fusibility, mialleability, 
ductility, and tenacity, as appears by the following 
table, in which the metal possessing the property in the 
highest de@ree stands first in the column. 








SPECIFIC 
GRAVITY. |FUSIBILITY.|MALLEABILITY.| DUCTILITY. TENACITY 

Platinum |Mereury |Gold Gold Iron 

Gold Tin Silver Silver Copper 

Mercury [Bismuth {Copper Platinum Platinum 

Lead Lead Tin fron Silver 

Silver Zinc |Platinum Copper Gold 

Bismuth {Antimony | Lead Lead, Bismuth, | Zine 

Copper Silver | Zinc Tin, Zinc, and|Tin 

Iron Copper | Iron Antimony can-| Lead a 

Tin Gold Bismuth andjnot be drawn! Bismuth and 

Zine Tron Antimony —_jout into wires, | Antimony 

Antimony |Platinum fare brittle. fare brittle. ~ 





We have no thermometer to measure high decrees of 
heat with exactness. Chemists have for that purpose 
sometimes used an instrument invented by the in- 
genious Wedgwood, to whom the country is so largely 
indebted for his improvements of earthenware, and 
for the classical elegance of forms which he was the 
first to introduce in that branch of our manufactures,— 
a debt which the country has newer paid, for due honour 
has never been done to his memory. Mr. Wedgwood 
having found by experiment that fine clay contracts 
equally by increase of heat, contrived an instrument 
which he called a Pyrometer (from pyr, Greek for fire, 
—and metron, measure); but from the difficulty of 
always finding clay of the same quality, the principle 
was not capable of being generally adopted in practice. 
An instrument has very lately been invented by Mr. 
Daniel, from which more correct measurements will be 


obtained. 


Mercury remains liquid much below the greatest 
derree of cold known in our climate; tin, bismuth, 
lead, zinc, and antimony are fusible at a red heat; 
iron requires a very high temperature, and platinum 
one far more intense, before they can be melted. As 
mercury is only solid at a cold 72° below the tem- 
perature of freezing water, we cannot say anything 
about its malleability, ductility, or tenacity. Iron has 
so great a degree of tenacity, that a wire not thicker 
than 0°787 of a line will support 550 pounds weight, 
while gold, which is infinitely more malleable and 
ductile, if drawn info a wire of the same diameter, will 
not support more than 150 pounds. 

All metals are simple bodies, that is, they cannot, by 
any process with which we are acquainted, be resolved 
into elements still more simple. It is very possible, 
however,—nay, according to all analogy, highly pro- 


by héat, but at different degrees of temperature, some’ bable, that future discoveries will show that they are 


2 ie 


332 


compounded of two or more substances of distinct 
natures, perhaps gases. Nothing looks more unlike 
air than water does, and yet that heavy fluid is com- 
posed of, and may, by a very easy process, be converted 
into, two light gases; and, what is no less strange, one 
of the gases entering into the composition of that which 
is most effectual in extinguishing fire, is one of the 
most inflammable bodies with which we are acquainted. 
The gases, when once produced by the decomposition 
of water, can, moreover, by a no less easy process, be 
re-united, and form water again. 

With the exception of gold, silver, platinum, and 
copper, it is rare to find any of the metals in nature in 
a state of purity. “ When so found, the term native has 
been applied to them; and mineralogists speak of 
native wold, native copper, &e. They are usually found 
in combination with oxygen, sulphur, or. acics; and 
occasionally two or more.metals are combined, when 
they form what is called a native alloy: When united 
with oxygen, they are said to be in the state of oxides ; 
when with sulphur, they are called swdpiurets > and 
when with an acid, the name of the acid is brought 
forward: thus, when lead is found in combination with 
sulphuric acid; it is said to’ be in the state of su/phate of 
lead. But in all these states there is usually a great 
mixture of earths. Metals so combined with foreign 
ingredients are said, in the language of mining, to be 
in the state of ore. Ores have very frequently a bright 
metallic lustre,—are often found in beautiful regularly- 
formed crystals, like salts; but in most cases they 
would be undistinguishable by a common observer 
from an ordinary stone. So much is this the case, that 
it has happened that roads have, for a length of time, 
been mended with what was thought to be nothing but 
stone, but which was afterwards discovered to be a 
metallic ore of great value. 

Metals are not peculiar to any of the stratified or the 
unstratified rocks, for they have been found in all of 
them ; but they are met with in greatest abundance in 
the inferior strata, and occur chiefly in what are called 
mineral veins, which are cracks in the continuity of the 
rock, filled up and branching through it, like the veins 
which convey the blood through our bodies in endless 
ramifications. - The manner in which mineral veins 
have been formed is a subject of great obscurity, from 
the very complicated appearances they present; but, in 
a great proportion of instances, their formation is 
explicable. on, the.‘supposition of cracks and fissures 
having been forined in the rock by some violent force, 
the rents so formed being afterwards filled up by the 
injection of the ores in a fluid state from the interior of 
the earth. a sa / . , 

By a series of artificial processes, which vary accord- 
ing to the nature of the ore, the metal is separated from 
the other mineral substances with which it is in com- 
bination. This art of obtaining metals in a state of 
purity, technically called metallurgy (from the Latin 
metallum, metal, and the Greek ergon, work), forms a 
most important department of chemical.science, one to 
which the attention of philosophers cannot be_too 
strongly directed, with the view to discover improve- 
ments in working the ores, so as to obtain the greatest 
amount of metal ‘at the least possible expense.’ It Is 
much tobe feared that a great amount of wealth is lost 
to the country in consequence of this important branch 
of manufacture, as it may be termed, being conducted, 
in very many cases, by persons who have not had the 
advantage of a scientific education. ‘They are thus not 
only incapable of applying the principles of science 
already known, but of taking advantage of those op- 
portunities which their extensive experience in the 
practical art may afford of making new and important 
discoveries, to the advancement not only of their 
particular department, but of science in general. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Auausr 390, 


ROTTERDAM. 


Tn.a late Number of the ‘ Penny Magazine’ an account 
was given of Amsterdam, the first city of the kingdom 
of Holland for wealth. and population. In these 
respects Rotterdam, another city of the same kingdom, 
is inferior only to Amsterdam, although, in nominal 
rank, it occupies but the seventh place among tlie 
towns of its own province of South. Holland. This 
anomaly resembles that in this country which regarded 
towns with a population of perhaps 10,000 souls as 
cities and provincial capitals, while others, with a popu- 
lation of perhaps 100,000, were in law only entitled 
to the rank of villages. Rotterdam is a sea-port town, 
situated on the north bank of the Meuse, or Maas, which 
is there about a mile in width; it is about twenty miles 
from its mouth; and lies in latitude 51° 55’ north, and 
longitude 4° 29’ east, twelve miles from the Hague, 
and thirty-six from Amsterdam. ‘The breadth of the 
town is traversed by the Rotte or Roter, a small river 
which here falls into the Meuse, and gives its name to 
the city. 

Little is known concerning the origin of Rotterdam. 
Robert Ceualis, the Bishop of Avranches, in the reign 
of Francis T., gives it a high antiquity, in his * Historia 
Gallica,’ affirming that it was founded by one Rotter, 
king of France, who gave it his name. This state- 
ment is supported by the curious old contemporary 
writer Tritheme, who states that it was founded in 808, 
and that Rutter, the twenty-third king of the French, 
was interred there. 'To this there are only three ob- 
jections: that history knows nothing of King Rutter,— 
that the situation of the town on the river Rotter 
sufficiently explains the origin of the name,—and that 
the site of the town continued to be inundated by 
the Meuse at a period much later than the time of 
its supposed foundation by King Rutter. It would 
hardly be worth while to mention such absurdities were 
it not for the sake of illustrating the facility with which 
tales are invented, or analogies are found, to explain 
things which are thought to need explanation, All 
that we know with certainty is, that, about the year 
1270, the town was walled, and received the title 
and privileges of a city. The growth of the town to 
that importance which it ultimately attained was very 
eradual, but took place principally during the period 
in which the United Provinces were under the yoke of 
Spain. The other facts of its history are soon related. 
Twenty-seven years after the date we have mentioned, 


the town was taken by the Fleming's; and, in 1418, by 


Waldegrave, lord of Brederode. The town was taken 
possession of by the French in January, 1794; and it 
suffered much in the general decline of the Dutch com- 
merce during the long period of war which terminated 
in 1815.‘ If we add to this that the town sustained 
much damage in February, 1825, in consequence of an 
extraordinary rise of the waters of the Meuse, we have 
exhausted the leading facts in the history of Rotterdam. 
' Rotterdam owes its prosperity entirely to its ad- 
vantageous situation as a commercial port. ‘The Meuse 
forms there one of the safest and most commodious 
harbours in Europe; and the waters are so deep, that 
the largest vessels can come and take in or discharge 
their cargoes at the warehouses of the merchants in the 
midst of the town, by means of the numerous canals by 
which, even more than Amsterdam or any other Dutch 
city, it is intersected. It is owing to this facility that 
the number of vessels which enter and clear out yearly 
at Rotterdam has gerrerally equalled, and often ex- 
ceeded, the number at Amsterdam, notwithstanding the 
ereater wealth and population of the latter port. The 
passage up the Meuse to Rotterdam is also free from 
ice sooner than that to Amsterdam by the Zuider 


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cumnavigation, in the case of very large vessels, arises 
from the deposits of sand which have been gradually 
made at the mouth of the Meuse; but latterly a canal 
has been cut across Voorne Island, from near Heli- 
voetsluis into the Meuse, through which the largest 
ships may pass to Rotterdam, instead of the circuitous 
route by Willemstadt and Dordrecht. 

Rotterdam is built in the form of a triangle, the 
largest side of which extends for about a mile and a 


O34 


half along the right bank of the Meuse, which here 
resembles an arm of the sea. ' The town, as divided by 
its numerous canals into insular spots connected by 
draw-bridges, necessarily resembles Amsterdam. Here 
also the canals are generally bordered with trees, a 
circumstance which gives to the sea-ports of Holland 
a vernal appearance which is almost peculiar to them. 
The town is nof fortified, but it is surrounded by a 
moat, and entered by six gates, two of which are 
towards the water. The streets of the town are in 
general straight and long, but narrow. Several of 
them are so very similar, that a stranger has much 
difficulty in recognising any distinction. The foot- 
pavement usually consists of a line of bricks. The 
long and stately row of houses facing the Meuse, and 
called, from its row of trees, the ‘ Boomtjes,’ is the 
finest part of the town, whether we regard its buildings 
or the pleasant prospect over the Meuse. Next to the 
Boomtjes, the quay of the Haring Vleit is the most 
pleasant place in the city. Many of the houses are built 
of free-stone, which, not being the produceof the country, 
must have been brought to the spot at a great expense. 
The celebrated Bayle once resided on this quay,—and 
the spot on which his house stood is still pointed out to 
strangers. ‘The suburbs of Rotterdam are very plea- 
sant, and afford a very favourable specimen of the 
Dutch taste in rural scenery. The gardens, upon a 
level with the water, and divided from it by a high 
raised road, appear to have been all designed by a 
mathematician ; but still their neatness and luxuriance 
leave a pleasing impression on the mind. Most of the 
principal merchants of the town have their country 
seats in the suburbs. Sir John Carr informs us, that 
upon most of the gates and houses there is a motto 
indicative of the peace of mind of the owner, or the 
eharacter of the place; and he supplies the following 
specimens :— “ Peace is my garden,” ‘* Hope and 
repose,” ‘* Almost out of town,” ‘* Look upon those 
beneath you,” (this was inscribed upon a large house 
that commanded some little cottages,) ‘* Very well 
content,” &c. These inscriptions are seldom nsed but 
by opulent tradesmen ; among the higher classes they 
are considered to_be a little tinctured with vulgarity, 
though they sometimes indulge in them. 

The houses of Rottetdam are rather convenient than 
elegant, the peculiar style of Dutch architecture being 
more than usually prevalent there. They are of the 
height of four, five, or six stories, and, in some quarters, 
the front walls project as they ascend, so as to place the 
higher part of the building several feet beyond the per- 
pendicular. Sir John Carr says that many of them 
project two or three yards; and adds, that if the 
freshness of their outsides, and the absence of fissures, 
did not give the houses the appearance of great sta- 
bility, the stranger would be induced, by the apprehen- 
sion of personal danger, to prefer paddling his way in 
the very centre of the canals to walking in the streets. 
The bricks with which the houses are eonstructed are 
of small size. ‘The windows are in general much 
larger than in’ France and England. In many of the 
houses the ground-floor is not inhabited, but serves, 
with its gate and arched passage, merely as an en- 
trance to the warehouses behind. In their interior 
arrangements and furniture, the houses of Rotterdam, 
and of many other Dutch towns, possess a degree of 
convenience, lightness, and comfort, which is not often 
realized on the continent, and is, perhaps, exceeded 
only in this country. Altogether, no scene can at first 
be more novel or interesting to a stranger than that 
which Rotterdam presents ;—masts of ships enlivened 
by gay streamers, beautiful stately trees and lofty 
leaning houses appear mingled, and at one view he 
sees before him the .characteristic features of the coun- 
try, the eity, and the sea. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| Auausr 30, 


Few of the public buildings of Rotterdam are very 
striking. Among the principal is the ehurch of St. 
Lawrence, which was built in the year 1472, and 
the tower of which, according to Martiniére, formerly 
leaned from the perpendicular, but which an architect 
found means of setting upnght again—a fact com- 
memorated by an inscription at the foot of the tower. 
From the top of this church the Hague may be seen to 
the north-west, Leyden to the north, and Dort to the 
south-west; and under its roof are the tombs of the 
celebrated admirals De Witt and Van Braakel. ‘There 
are in all fifteen churches in Rotterdam, of which one 
belongs to the English Episcopalians and another to the 
Scotch Presbyterians: a few of these churches are fine 
buildings.” There are three hospitals for the poor, the 
aged, and orphans. The Town Hall is a good specimen 
of the old Dutch style of architecture; and the Ex- 
ehange, though rather plain, is a handsome build: 
ing, finished in the year 1736. The other principal 
structures worthy of note are the palace of the 
Great Council, the Bank, the buildings of the East 
aud West India Companies, the theatre, the arsenals, 
and the gate towards Delft. Among the objects at 
Rotterdam ealculated to interest a stranger are the 
Statue of Erasmus, and the small house in which he was 
born. ‘The latter has been preserved with much care 
by his townsmen, and its elaim to notice is declared by 
a Latin inscription, which has been placed in front. 
Notwithstanding this testimony of the house, however, 
there have been persons hardy enough to think that 
Erasmus was born at Gouda, and was only bronght up 
at Rotterdam. But the good people of the latter town, 
1 the zeal of their claim, have successively erected three 
statues to him whom Pope declares *‘ the glory and the 
shame” of the age in which he lived. Each following 
statue erected by the eitizens was of more durable 
materials than that which it superseded. ‘The first 
was of wood, the second of stone, and the third of 
bronze. ‘The wooden statue was set up in 1540 on the 
occasion of the visit of Philip If., King of Spain, to 
Rotterdam, as sovereign of the Netherlands. ‘The 
statue is said to have been very well wrought; it held 
a pen in the right hand, and in the left a roll addressed 
as from Erasmus, in the name of the city, to the prince, 
and congratulating him, in Latin verse, on his arrival. 
The statue in stone was erected in 1557; and in 1572 
the Spaniards shot at it with their muskets and threw 
it into the canal, from whence it was taken out and 
again set up on the expulsion of the Spaniards. The 
statue in bronze, which now forms one of the most 
interesting monuments of the city, was finished in 1622. 
It is placed upon a marble pedestal, and is surrounded 
by an iron balustrade. The figure is ten feet high, 
and represents Erasmus dressed as a doctor, and read- 
ing a book, which he holds with both his hands. It 
ornaments the great bridge of the Meuse, near the 
Exchange, and the locality has received, on this 
account, the name of ‘*‘ Krasmus’ Place.” ‘The statue 
itself nas been applied to purposes never contemplated 
by those who erected the monument. ‘This figure of a 
man of letters has been employed as an index of poli- 
tical opinions. Before the expulsion of the Stadtholder 
and his family in 1795, every eoncavity’-in the dress 
was crammed with oranges; and on other occasions it 
has been profusely decorated with emblems of quite an 
opposite signification. + 

‘he city possesses a considerable number of literary: 
and commercial institutions. Among them is a society 
of experimental philosophy, founded in 1769; a society. 
of literature and the fine arts; a eollege; a grammar 
school ; a public library ; a eabinet of antiquities and 
natural history; a theatre; a chamber of commerce 
and manufactures ; a chamber for the commerce of the 


| Levant and the navigation of the Mediterranean, and a 


1834.] 


colonial board. ‘The time of the greatest prosperity of 
Rotterdam was in the seventeenth and eighteenth 
centuries; but after 1795 the invasion of the French 
and the war with Eneland had a distressing influence, 
not only on the commerce of Rotterdam, but on that of 
the country in general. It began to recover in the 
year 1802, bit was again very rapidly depressed by the 
renewal of the war. ‘The following figures, which ‘show 
the number of the vessels which arrive at Rotterdam 
during several years, will serve as a thermometer to 
indicate the influence of war upon the prosperity of this 
port. The number of vessels which arrived at Rotter- 
dum was 1786 in the year 1802; 850 in 1803; 693 in 
1804; 679 in 1805; 381 in 1806; 2941in 1807; 65 in 
1808. Inthe years 1809, 1810, and still more in 1811, 
1812, and 1813, the Dutch trade was almost entirely 
suspended ; but the effects of the overthrow of Buona- 
parte were speedily indicated by the reviving prosperity 
of Rotterdam. The number of vessels in the year 1814 
was 1284; in 1815, 1603; and in 1817, 1731. Since 
then the trade and population have continued to 
advance; and the latter, which is stated to have been 
48,000 in the year 1813, amounted to 56,000 in 1826, 
and exceeds 63,000 at present. 


SNOW HARVEST. 


Inv England, and other countries of the north, ices are 
rarely used, and are considered a luxury of the rich; 
but in the hot climates of the south, and at Naples 
and in Sicily particularly, they are classed, during the 
summer season, among the absolute necessaries of life, 
and are consumed, in some shape or other, by all 
classes down to the poorest of the land. We believe 
there is no traveller that, ever past.the warm season in 
those countries but will agree in estimating them and 
iced water as the greatest of physical -blessings. The 
wine of-the country, though kept in the coolest cellars, 
and the water, thoueh drawn from the deepest well or 
most gelid source, become, on the shortest exposnre to 
the atmosphere, so tepid and mawkish, that it is scarcely 
possible to drink them, and, if drunk, they give no 
refreshment. During the burning, exhausting heats of 
June, July, and August, even the Neapolitan lazzarone 
will turn away loathing (se non c’epeve) if there is no 
show to cool his draught. 
pure sparkling congealed snow to dissolve in his glass, 
and the poorest wine of a penny a bottle, or plain 
water, becomes nectar—he drinks joyfully, and is 
indeed ‘* powerfully refreshed.” 

_We have spoken of “‘ ices ” and “‘ iced water,” hecause 
such are the names (in our own case derived from the 
true material employed, which is ice) in use in England. 
But in the south of Italy, it is not ice but snow that 
is employed in all cases. The quantity that is consumed 
annually, particularly when the summer proves long 
and unusually hot, is prodigious. In the low country, 
even in their coldest winters, snow never lies upon the 
eround; but in-the Apennines that run all through 
the peninsula they have an exhaustless magazine of 
that precious substance. <A few of the loftiest moun- 
tains of that great chain,—as I] gran Sasso d’ Italia, 
or the Great Rock of Italy, and Monte Majello (both 
in the Abruzzi),—have snow on their summits all the. 
year round, and even glaciers in some of their deep 
crevices ; but, generally speaking, the snow disappears 
from the ridges of the Apennines towards the end of 
May, and were not art and precaution employed it 
could not be made available to man at the season he 
most wants it. ‘The Neapolitans, therefore, die deep 
wells or caverns hi¢h up the mountain’s sides, or some- 
times make use of natural caves among the rocks. 
Into these, at the proper season, when they can procure 
it in broad, thick, purely white layers, they throw the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


But give him a handful of 


335 


snow to be preserved. The snow 1s well pressed to- 
gether, and, when the chasm is full, or nearly so, they 
throw in a quantity of straw, dried leaves, and branches 
of trees, to keep the external air from the snow, and 
then shut up the mouth of the well or cavern, which is 
sometimes, though not always, enclosed by a small, 
rude stone building. ‘These snow-caves are mostly on 
the northern face of the mountain. By paying proper 
attention to their exposition and the points of the 
compass,—by taking advantage of thick trees that, in 
summer, afford a cool, dense shade, or of a deep, narrow: 
rift in the rocks where the sun never penetrates,—these 
depots may be safely placed as low down the mountain’ 
as the snow falls and lies. This is an advantage of no 
mean value, as the labour and expense of carriage are 
reduced, the material being’ nearer market and more 
easily accessible. When the snow does fall in any 
quantity on the lower and inhabited ridges of the 
mountains it gives occasion to great joy and festivity 
among the peasants, who troop from all parts to collect 
it, and carry it off to a safe snow-cave. ‘The writer of 
these pages once witnessed a curious and enlivening 
scene of the sort. He was travelling from Naples 
towards Apulia, and was crossing the first, or lower 
rid@e of the Apennines, between the towns of Il Cardi- 
nale, and Monte Forte, and Avellino, when suddenly 
a sharp snow-storm came on, which soon covered the 
eround with a thick white mantle.- As soon as the 
flakes began to fall quickly and compactly, all ‘the 
country people set up a joyful shout, and presently 
men, women, and childrew all ran out with rakes, 
shovels, baskets, hand-barrows, rush-mats, and every 
thing available that they could seize at the moment, to 
collect the falling treasure. The Israelites in the desert 
could hardly have shown more joyous feelings at the 
fall of their manna. They sang—they shouted—they 
laughed—they kept up a constant fire of jokes, not 
forgetting, however, to gather in the snow all the while.’ 
There was none of that pleasant sport which we cal! 
snow-balling—the material and their time, on such an 
occasion, were too precious to be lost or wasted. Balls, 
to be sure, were made, and of an enormous size; but 
these the children carefully rolled alone the mountain’s 
side to throw into the snow-caves. ‘They were all 
evidently foretasting the refreshment and delight to 
be procured.from this gift of winter during the scorch- 
ine heats of summer, and the suffocating airs of the 
sirocco, not overlooking’, in all probability, the gains to 
be derived from selling their overstock of snow to their 
neighbours in the hot thirsty plain of the Terra di 
Lavoro. As the travellers went by, the groups of busy 
peasants, men and boys, shouted out to them “ Ecco, 
Sienori, una bella raccolta! questa é una bella raccolta '” 
(Here, Sirs, is a fine harvest! this is a fine harvest!) — 

To supply the city of Naples, one of the largest 
capitals of Europe, which has a population of 400,000 
souls —all snow-consumers—a very extensive mountain- 
range is put in requisition. rom the Apemines, and 
from all the nearer branches and ramifications of those 
mountains, snow, during the summer months, is con- 
stantly being brought into the city by land and by sea ; 
always, however, by sea when practicable, as, by that 
mode of conveyance, it is kept cleaner, loses less by 
melting, and costs less for carriage. Hundreds of mei: 
and boys are employed exclusively on this business. _ 

A mountain that contributes very materially to the 
supply of the capital is Monte Sant’ Angelo, the loftiest 
point of the bold promontory that separates the Bay 
of Naples from the Bay of Salerno. ‘This mountain, 
which towers majestically immediately behind the town 
and sea-port of Castellamare, near the end of _the 
Neapolitan bay, is only about twelve miles from: 
Naples itself. On account of the short distauce, and 








| the advantage of an easy water-carriage, the snow is 


336 


there harvested with great industry and care, and 
Monte Sant’ Angelo is well provided with such caves 
and chasms as we have described. Some of these 
contain singly an immense heap of snow, but prodigious 
as the quantity may be, it rapidly disappears before the 
labours of the workmen, who, with iron-spiked poles 
and shovels, dig into it and break it up much after the 
fashion of men working in salt-mines. ‘These labours, 
for a very obvious reason, when, in the day-time, Fahr- 
enheit’s thermometer often marks 90° or 100° in the 
sun, are nearly all performed during the cool of the 
evening and night. Long strings of mules, each like 
a little caravan, ascend the mountain to the snow-caves. 
There they are loaded with the snow broken into large 
lumps, and secured from the external atmosphere as 
well as may be, and then, with all the speed that 
can be managed with heavy burdens, and on steep, 
precipitous, and, in parts, very dangerous roads, they 
descend by Quisisana* to Castellamare and the wharfs, 
where large, roomy boats are in readiness to receive 
their loads. As soon as the very perishable cargo of 
one of these boats is completed, and covered over with 
straw, dry leaves, and tarpauling, it pushes off direct 
for Naples. The time of their departure is from eleven 
or twelve o'clock at night to one or two in the morning. 
They are all furnished with a mast and sails, which may 
be useful to them on their return; but as there is 
seldom a breath of, wind on a summer’s, night in this 
bay, they are of little use in going to Naples, and the 
sailors are obliged to pull the boats with oars and long 
sweeps. This labour, from. the clumsy, bad construc- 
tion of the vessels, and the dead weight thrown into 
them, is excessively severe, particularly when they are 
delayed in starting, and threatened with the -heat of 
the rising sun before they can reach the port of Naples. 
Fire ought to be brought to the aid of snow. A-small 
steam-boat might tow. over a line of these vessels with- 
out any uncertainty as to time. During the summer 
nights, at the town of Castellamare, the trampling of 
the mules from the mountain, the cries and songs of the 
muleteers, the putting off of the snow-boats, and the 
shouts of the mariners, the roll of whose heavy oars are 
heard far across the: bay, are scarcely ever interrupted 
for five minutes at a time. : 

When the snow-boats arrive in the port of Naples, 
they are quickly unloaded by a number of facchini, or 
porters, regularly appointed to that service. ‘These 
fellows, who are very active and very strong, though 
their principal food is bread, olives, garlic, and other 
vegetables, with now and then a good dish of maccaroni, 
run with their loads of snow from the water-side to a 
large, cool building erected on purpose to receive it. 
This building, which is called ‘‘ La Dogana della neve,” 
or the snow custom-house, is situated a.little in the 
rear of the port, at the distance of a few hundred yards 
from the great Neapolitan custom-house. ‘To this 
general depot the retail dealers come to furnish them- 
selves from all parts of the vast town; and there is 
scarcely a street in Naples, however miserable and 
remote it may be, but has its snow-shop. By an old 
law of the country, these shops are never allowed to be 
shut up during the hot weather, either by night or by 
day ; or if the owner closes the door or absents himself, 
he must leave some one in the shop ready to serve 
should snow be called for. A similar regulation, only 
extending all the year through, applies to apothecaries’ 
shops. With respect to the venders of physic, the old 
law is pretty well let go to sleep, but the popular want 
and habit keep it awake in regard to the snow-dealers. 
It must be remarked, however, that snow itself is both 
- * A beautiful royal villa, with a small village near if, on the 
mountain’s side, above Castellamare, 1s so called. The Italian 
compound, “ Qui si sana,” being rendered literally, is in English 
“ Here one recovers health.” — _ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Aucust 30, 1834. 


a medicine and a medicament ;—it is taken internally, 
alone, or mixed with syrups and drugs, and it is used in 
outward topical applications for head-aches, sprains, 
and an almost infinite variety of cases. ‘The quantity 
consumed in this way is very great. Snow, indeed, 
may be called the best physician and the best surgeon 
of the poor Neapolitans, who do-not often consult any 
other. | 


=e 


RIGHES. 


Ir is the mind that maketh good or ill, 
That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore : 
For some, that hath abundance at his will, 
Hath not enough, but wants in greater store; § 
- And other, that-hath little, asks no more,: 
But in that little is both rich and wise: ' 
For wisdome is most riches ; fooles therefore 
They are which fortunes do by vowes devize ; 
Since each unto himself his hfe may fortunize. . 
SPENSER, 


Board and Lodging of the Esquimaux near. Icy Cape.— 
During the day we visited the village, consisting of tents 
constructed of a few sticks placed in the ground and meeting 
at the top, so as to give the dwelling, when covered with 
hides, a conical form. Those which, as in the present 
instance, are intended for a high degree of cold, have also 
a lining of rein-deer skins. A few logs formed the floor, on 
which the skins for sleeping were spread out. They cook 
their provisions in the open air in ‘earthen pots, into which 
they put the blood, entrails, blubber, and flesh together. 
Their chief food is the walrus, seal, rein-deer, and fish: and 
as they procure more in summer than is required for imme. 
diate use, the rest is buried in the sand for winter consump- 
tion. They very kindly dug up a seal which had evidently 
been deposited for some time; and one of them offered us 
a handful of the intestines to eat, but the sight of it was 
quite sufficient for our appetites. They eat the flesh of the 
rein-deer in its raw state.—MS. Journal of a Voyage of 
Discovery. > 





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Morthly Supplement of 


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July 31 to August 31, 1834 


Jodo. J 





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Interior of Henry VII.’s Chapel T 


539 


Berore proceeding to the general subject of the 
history of the Abbey and an account of the monu- 
ments it contains, we may remark, with reference 
to the subject of the preceding engraving, that the 
Gothic, or pointed, style of architecture attained a 
very high degree of perféction in England during the 
fifteenth century. Of this there remain three exquisite 
specimens—St. George’s Chapel, Windsor (see ‘ Penny 
Magazine,’ No. 80); King’s College.Chapel, Carn- 
bridge; and Henry VII.’s Chapel, Westminster. It 
may be asked, could the age which produced such truly 
admirable works of art be so generally deficient in all 
that characterizes man as a rational creature, and even 
ina general diffusion of the enjoyments of life? Without 
entering at all upon either a history of architecture, or 
a discussion of the merits of the different styles which 
have prevailed in different times, we may simply remind 
our readers that the architecture (as well as the learning 
and religion), not only of fngland, but of Europe, 
was then in the hands of a great corporation, which, in 
spite of all that is chargeable upon it, must have con- 
tained much both of intellectual vigour and refined 
taste. 

The general impression produced on entering Henry 
VII.’s Chapel has already been described. It is difficult 
to go into detail, and convey in words a distinct idea. 
of the architectural beauties of this certainly rarely 
equalled and never surpassed specimen of art. In 
the interior, the eye traces the octagonal buttresses 
upwards to the vaulting, where the elegantly-pierced 
flying buttresses, the pendants of solid stone, which 
appear suspended in air, the meshes of the tracery, 
curved and intersected as if the artist had monlded his 
solid materials into the yielding facility of lace-work, 
eraceftil even when most @rctesque, the niches, with 
their carved canopies, the dragon, the greyhound, the 
rose, the fleur-de-lis, sculptured around——“ the blaze 
of rich decoration,’-—all combine to attract attention 
to the different parts, and each excites admiration ; 
while the vast height of the roof creates unfeigned 
wonder at the profound professional skill which thus 
counteracted the power of gravity, and after conceiving 
the bold design, so fully triumphed in its execution. 
The forms and tracery of the windows, the massive 
caken gates, and the tesselated floor, add to the combi- 
nation of impressive circumstances; nor is the im- 
pression, when rightly felt, without its moral value 
and beneficial result. 

‘here is an obscurity about the identity of the archi- 
tect of this chapel. It is extremely probable that he 
wes an ecclesiastic; and it has been suggested that it 
is net unlikely to have been William Bolton, the Prior 
of St. Bartholomew’s, whom Stowe calls “a great 
builder,” and who is expressly termed, in the will of the 
royal founder, “the master of the works.” Let him 
be who he may, he was undonbtedly a master of his 
‘* craft,” and has left us a valuable monument of his 
cenus, 

Westminster Abbey was endowed with many privi- 
leges in ancient times. While Laurence was Abbot in 
1136, in the veien of Henry II., he applied to Pope 
Alexander III. to be allowed to use the mitre, ring, 
and gloves, the distinguishing marks of episcopal 
dignity. Laurence died before the papal consent 
was formally announced, but his successor Walter 
enjoyed the first-fruits of the ambitious request. This 
privilege conferred a higher importance afterwards, 
for mitred abbots came to sit in parliament, as well as 
bishops, and to enjoy every honour to which bishops, 
as lords of parliament, were entitled. The last abbot 
who sat in parliament was John F'ackenham, who was 
the only ecclesiastic of his rank who appeared in the 
first parliament of Queen Elizabeth, in 1558, and he 
took the lowest place on the bishops’ bench, One of 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


TAuaust 31, 


the most famous of the abbots was John Islip, who 
must have been a man of considerable ability and ener- 
getic power. To him has been erroneously ascribed 
the patronage and first introduction of printing, which 
was introduced before his elevation to the abbacy ; but 
it was during his time that Henry VII.’s Chapel was 
erected, and under his superintendence it was carried 
on: Henry, only nine days before he died, having paid 
into his hands 5000/. in * ready money before the 
honde,” for the purpose of completing it. 

In the year 1303, the king’s treasury, “‘ at that time 
somewhere within the abbey,” was robbed to the amount 
of 100,000/., which had been laid wp for the service of 
the Scottish wars. The abbot and forty-eight of the 
monks were in consequence committed to the Tower ; 
and, notwithstanding their protestations of innocence, 
and request to be tried, twelve of them were kept two 
years in prison, the depositions against them being 
such as caused great suspicion of their having been 
concerned in the robbery. At length, on Lady-day, 
1305, the king, who had come to Westmiuster to re- 
turn thanks for his triumph over the Scots, gave orders 
for their discharge ; yet Walsingham quaintly remarks, 
that ‘“‘ the persons so directed to discharge them de- 
tained them eight days longer out of pure malice.” 

On the 20th of March, 1413, Henry IV., who had 
been some time afflicted with a sort of apoplexy, was 
seized with his last fit whilst worshipping at the shrine 
of St. Edward in the abbey church. At this pericd he 
was preparing for a voyage to the Holy Land, having 
recently assumed the cross in consequence of a prediction 
that he “should die at Jerusalem,” which had been 
made to him in the early part of his life. Whilst still 
senseless, he was carried into the abbot’s house, and on 
recovering his speech, and seeing himself in a strange 
place, he asked where he was, and was answered, ‘“ In 
the Jerusalem Chamber.” ‘The prophecy immediately 
recurred to his memory, and, finding his death approach- 
ing, he sent for the Prince of Wales, Falstaff’s once 
boon companion, and after giving him some excellent 
advice in respect of his future government, he re- 
commended himself to the protection of Heaven, and 
expired in a few moments. 

After the decease of Edward IV., the Lords Rivers 
and Grey, with others of the Queen’s kindred, were 
arrested at Stony Stratford and Northampton, by com- 
mand of the Duke of Gloucester, afterwards Richard 
III., as they were conveying the young king from 
Ludlow to London. This act being communicated to 
the Queen, who justly suspected the intentions of the 
Duke, she immediately quitted the palace at Westminster, 
and took sanctuary in the abbey, together with her 
youngest son the Duke of York, and the five princesses 
her dauehters. At a subsequent period, when Richard 
was seated on the throne, he prevailed on the Queen {to 
quit the sanctuary with her daughters, a measure she lived 
bitterly to regret, for Henry VII. afterwards deprived 
her of all her Jands, and the latter portion of her life 
was spent in mournful seclusion at Bermondsey Abbey. 

Prior to the dissolution of the monasteries, Henry 
VIII. had resolved to convert some of them into. epis- 
copal sees, to be endowed with a portion of the lands 
or revenues which that dissolution would place at his 
disposal, Of the projected sees, Westminster was, to 
be one; and on the 17th of December, 1540, the abbey- 
church was, by letters-patent, constituted a cathedral, 
with a bishop, a dean, twelve prebendaries, and other 
inferior officers. ‘The new bishop was Thomas Thirleby, 
then dean of the Chapel-royal. On the 16th of 
January, 1539-40, a surrender of the whole establish- 
ment, for the purpose of carrying this project into effect, 
was made by Abbot Benson and twenty-four of the 
monks. The annual revenue is stated to have been 


nearly 40002. a sum of great real value, when “ihe 





1934.} 


pound of beef was reeulated at one halfpenny, and that 
of veal and mutton at three farthings. Benson, for 
his ready compliance with Henry’s wishes, was ap- 
pointed dean of the new cathedral; certain monks be- 
came prebendaries, minor canons, aud students in the 
university; the others were dismissed with peusions, 
decreasing from ten pounds down to five marks. The 
abbatial mansion was converted into a palace for the 
bishop, whose annual revenue is variously stated from 
six hundred to eight hundred pounds. ‘The diocese in- 
cluded the whole county of Middlesex, with the excep- 
tion of Fulham, the rural residence of the bishops of 
London. The endowment of the dean and chapter was 
not completed till the 5th of August, 1542, when lands 
in various parts of the kingdom were assigned, of the 
yearly value of 2598/.; out of which, however, the sum 
of 409/, was to be paid, for the salaries of five professors 
of divinity, law, physic, Hebrew, and Greek, in each of 
the universities. <A further sum of 166/, 13s. 4d. was 
to support twenty students in the universities ; and two 
masters, with forty grammar scholars, were to be main- 
tained in the school of Westminster. The new bishopric 
was, however, but of short duration; for on the 29th of 
March, 1550, Bishop Thirleby was required to sur- 
render it to Edward VI., and it was soon afterwards 
united to that of London. Part of the possessions of 
St. Peter’s Cathedral (our readers will remember that 
this is the collegiate title of Westminster Abbey) were 
appropriated to the repairs of St. Paul’s Cathedral, 
whence arose the proverb of “robbing Peter to pay 
Paul.” In the edict for suppressing the see of West- 
minster, no mention was made of the establishment of 
a dean and prebendaries, and it became, consequently, 
a question whether they were to be continued. To re- 
move all doubt on this head, an act passed in parliament, 
declaring the church still to remain a cathedral, with 
the former establishment, but within the diocese of 
London, On the accession of Mary to the throne, the 
restoration of the monastery to its pristine condition 
was carried into effect. But on the 21st of May, 1560, 
the monks were again displaced, and the church again 
rendered collegiate by Elizabeth, on a basis very similar 
to that established by Henry VIII. Since the reign 
of Elizabeth, if we exclude the general disorganization 
of similar institutions, in consequence of the internal 
disorders which commenced in the time of Charles I., 
the collegiate establishment of the abbey has undergone 
no material alteration. ' 
Dr. Ryves, the author of ‘ Mercurius Rusticus,’ and 


afterwards Dean of Windsor, has inserted in his work | 


some particulars of wanton and even atrocious dilapi- 
dation, which it is to be hoped are exaggerated. He 
says that in 1643, in the month of July, some soldiers 
of the parliamentary army, gzartered in the abbey- 
chureh, broke the rail about the altar, burnt it, pulled 
down the organ, pawned the pipes at several alehouses, 
ate, drank, and smoked tobacco round the communion 
table, and committed various beastly atrocities! Yet it 
is certain the abbey suffered considerably during the 
interregnum from the iconoclastic fury of the repub- 
licans. We know no better corrective of this base and 
brutal spirit than a familiar acquaintance with the his- 
tory, uses, and objects of works of art. Ignorance has 
uo halting point between blind yet reverent superstition, 
and dilapidating fury. Enlighten the minds of the 
oreat masses of society, and by a reflex influence let 
their taste be improved ;—and while we shall not be- 
hold them kneeling down in abject veneration and 
humbling fear, neither shall we be pained by exhibitions 
of barbaric mutilation and coarse and senseless spolia- 
tion. ‘The chapel of Henry VII. was of course exposed 
to similar disasters. Even in more settled and better 
times (if we except the examination and report of Sir 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


339 


a great deal of thought bestowed upon it; for in 1803, 
Dean Vincent presented a memorial to the Lords of 
the ‘Treasury, setting forth that the lapse of centuries 
had so decayed the stone as not only to present a ruinous 
exterior, but actually to endanger the safety of the edi- 
fice. Ultimately, the House of Commons voted various 
stuns 1n different years for the restoration of the chapel, - 
which was commenced in 1809, under the superintend- 
ence of the late James Wyatt, Esq., and completed in 
1622; the total amount of the grants for the purpose 
being upwards of 42,000/. The repairs have been ct- 
lirely executed with Bath stone, and the building is now 
therefore likely to be preserved for many ages. 


In walking round the Abbey, and surveying the 
monuments and tombs, the spectator will be struck 
with the similarity which obtains in nearly all the 
ancient remains, ‘The posture is recumbent, the figures 
are formal and stiff, and one tomb appears to be but 
a copy of the other. As we descend to later periods, 
we find the art improving,—the tombs and monuments 
assume the form of temples, or are arched with cano- 
pies,—the figures are more graceful and expressive, 
and emblematic and other ornaments are numerous. 
After the Reformation there is a retrograde movemeiit ; 
but lower down again, after the Restoration, we come 
to the revival of statuary and sculpture, when men of 
genius began to feel it their interest to devote their 
lives to their profession, aud to produce elaborate works 
of art. And this brings us to our own times, when the 
art of sculpture appears to be rising to rival the far- 
famed efforts of the Grecian school, and to iinbue 
marble with expressive life. We shall attempt briefly 
to connect the different periods. 

Passing over the rude figures of abbots iii the cloisters, 
coeval with the time of William of Normandy, we come 
to St. Edward’s Chapel, which is full of very ancient 
remains. ‘The shrine, or tomb of Kine Edward, 
stands nearly in the middle of his Chapel. The original 
work, though greatly dilapidated, must be rewarded as 
a curious vestige of antiquity ; but all the wooden super- 
structure is of a much later date, and in a different 
style of composition. Edward died on the 5th of 
January, 1065-6, and he was interred on the 12th of 
that month before the high altar. Among the miracles 
attributed to Kine Edward, even in his life-time, was 
that of curing the glandular swellings in the neck, since 
called the king’s evil; and, after his interment, many 
extraordinaty cures were reputed to have been wrought 
at his tomb in every description of disease and infirmity. 
Pope Alexander III. canonized him, enjoining, by his 


bull to the Abbot and Convent of Westniinster, ‘‘ that 


the body of the glorious king should be honoured here 
on earth, as he himself was e@lorified in heaven.” ‘The 
shrine was erected by Henry III., and the remains of 
the Confessor were translated to it with great pomp and 
splendour ; and Matthew of Westminster gravely tells 
us that two persons possessed of devils, who had come 
purposely, oue from Ireland, the other from Winchester, 
were relreved. 

The anniversary of the translation was observed for 
three centuries with great solemnity and pomp, and 
many rich offerings were made by different monarchs at 
the altar which had been erected at the west end of the 
shrine. Yet the same Henry III., who founded and 
enriched it, set the example of making free with its 
riches: for he at one time obtained leave of the abbot 
and monks to pawn the jewels of the shrine for ueces- 
sities of the state! 

In the same chapel, a huge, shapeless, rough coffin, 
composed of five large slabs of Purbeck marble, con- 
tains the body of Edward I., remarkable as having 


Christopher Wren) there does not appear to have been | been opened in 1774, by a deputation from the Society 


aX 2 


340 


of Atitiquaties, when the body was found in a state of 
Complete preservation, having on two robes, one of gold 
and silver tissue, the other of crimson velvet; a sceptre 
in each hand, a crown on his head, and many jewels, 
quite bright. He measured six feet two inches. It is 
to be regretted that, on this memorable occasion, no 
sketch was taken of the singular scene. 


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hibiting 4 moré studied expression of simple dignity 
than could well have resulted from a first attempt. It 
is not improbable, however, that Pietro Cavalini, who 
executed the tomb, might also have given the design, 
and superintended the casting of the figure, in which 
latter case the presumed contradiction would be 
adequately explained. Both the statue and the brass 
table beneath it are richly gilt, but the thick coat of 
indurated dust conceals the. gilding. . The king is 
arrayed in a long mantle, reaching to the feet. There 
is a fine simplicity in the folds of the drapery. Cavahim 
is supposed to have accompanied Abbot Ware to Ene- 
land, on his return from either his first or second visit 
to Rome. 

Tne beautiful monument of Queen Eleanor, whose 
conjugal virtues tradition has so pleasingly recorded, is 
constructed with grey Petworth marble, covered with a 
table of gilt copper, on which is the recumbent statue 
of the queen. It is a very adinirable performance; the 
peculiar sweetness and beauty imparted to the counte- 
nance cannot easily be excelled. 

‘<The screen,’ says the writer in ‘ Neale’s West- 
minster, ‘* which extends across this chapel on the 
west, is one of the most remarkable specimens of 
ancient art that now remains; and although wofully 
dilapidated, it is still exceedingly interesting and 
curious. The damage it has sustained appears to have 
arisen far more from wanton devastation than from the 
wear of ages. It must excite some surprise, indeed, 
that the sculptures of the screen escaped during’ the 
Commonwealth. 

‘‘'This elaborate performance is constructed in the 
pointed style of architecture; and, independently of its 
hizhly-enriched niches and architraves, it possesses a 
sculptured frieze on which the principal events, both 
real and imaginary, of Edward the Confessor’s life, 
are represented in alto-relievos. ‘These are displayed in 
fourteen compartments, separated from each other by 
an equal number of irregularly-shaped quatrefoils. 
The designs for these singular sculptures have been 
chiefly deduced from Ailred’s account of the Life and 
Miracles of Kine Edward, which was written in the 
time of Henry IIJ., and presented to that monarch by 
Abbot Laurence on the very day (anno 1163) when, in 
honour of his recent canonization, the Confessor’s 
remains were removed into a new shrine. All the 
sculptures are highly relieved, from the frieze having 
been hollowed out into a deep concave behind them. 
The general heieht of the principal figures is about 
one foot. The surmountmeg cornice has been very 
richly decorated with a running pattern of perforated 
foliage (now greatly broken), representing strawberry- 
leaves. The design of the lower part of the screen is 
extremely eleeant, and the variety of delicate lace-work 
tracery which it exhibits can hardly be paralleled.” 

The few writers who have attempted to determine the 
age of this screen have assiened it to periods extremely 
remote from each other. It is probably of the four- 
teenth century. 

* Over the arched recess occupied by the tomb of 
Heury V. is a large and elegant chantry. This is 
eutered by two staircases within octagonal towers, orna- 
meuted with stutnes and pierced tracery. Ona wooden 
bar that extends between the entrance-towers 1s the 
casque or helmet which Henry wore at the battle of 
Agincourt, and fastened against the large columns at 
the sides are his shield and war-saddle. Several azvdels 
of buildings and monuments are preserved here ; among 
them is that designed by Sir Christopher Wren for 
erecting. a lofty spire on the central tower of this 
eliurch*.” 

‘Whe statues of the early part of the first penod of 
English sculpture ave mostly, if not all, composed 

* Britton ; | 


4 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


841 


of coarse and perishablé stoné, And aré consequent), 
many of them decayed and defaced. The stiff uni- 
formity which pervades them all—knights in armour 
and ladies in bodice—presents nothing on which 
particularly ‘to dwell. The second period indicates 
improvement; for though the slavish custom still 
prevailed of placing the figures on their backs,—a 
posture at once ngicd and ungraceful,—yet as a 
better light dawned upon the artists, they struggled 
with their difficulties, and a perceptible difference is 
discernible in the repose of the countenances, the folds 
of the drapery, and the surrounding ornaments. It is 
to the latter part of this period that the superb monu- 
ment of Henry VIT. belongs. Sculpture and archi- 
tecture appear to lave been advancing together, and 
there is, accordingly, a uniformity between the chanel 
and the tomb. Its sculptor was Pietro Torregiano, a 
singular man, who flourished at the dawn of the great 
revival of art in the fifteenth century. He was a 
Florentine, and a fellow-student with Michael Angelo ; 
and it is said that in a dispute respecting comparative 
proficiency, he struck the great artist a blow which 
broke the bridge of his nose, and left a mark never 
eradicated. In the zenith of his reputation he came to 
England, and amongst other works engaged, under 
special contract, to execute this tomb,—a work by 
which he is now almost exclusively known. It is further 
recorded of him that, passing into Spain, he fell into 
the hands of the Inquisition, being denounced as guilty 
of impiety and sacrilege in breaking an image of the 
Virgin’ Mary, which he himself had made for a hidalgo, 
who afterwards refused to pay him his price; and that 
he escaped the auto-de-fe by starving himself to death! 

The pedestal of the tomb is of black marble, but the 
figures, pilasters, rilievos, rose-branches, &c., which 
adorn it, as directed by King Henry’s will, are atl of 
gilt copper. The figures of the monarch and _ his 
queen, designed in a style of great simplicity, lie upen 
the tomb with their hands raised in attitude of prayer. 
There is an extremely natural expression in the eonn- 
tenanuces of the royal pair. On the angles are little 
angels seated, and at the ends are the royal arms and 
quarterings, while on each side, boldly sculptured, are 
wreaths of fruit and flowers, inclosing circular plates 
of cast metal, in which are small whole-leneth figures 
of the king’s patron saints, termed in the will his 
‘‘ avoures.” ‘The entire execution indicates not only a 
highly improved state of art, as compared with the 
monuments both of times immediately preceding and 
subsequent, but is a work of genius worthy of a coim- 
parison with any in the Abbey. But we have a more 
decided proof of the improved state of art in England 
at that time, in the screen or ‘* closure ” which sur- 
rounds the tomb, than in the tomb itself,—the one 


}being the work of a talented foreigner, the other the 


production of English artists. ‘The screen is a most 
elaborate work of art, and a very fine specimen of what 
is technically termed ‘ founding in open work.” It 1s 
of brass and copper, designed in the pointed style of 
decoration, and is of an oblong form. At each angle 
rises an octagonal tower, and on each side there is an 
arched doorway, surmounted by a large rose and a 
shield of arms. A projecting cornice and a parapet, 
ornamented with the king’s badges, form ‘he summit ; 
and at the sides, on the transverse plates, between the 
two divisions into which the upright compartments are 
separated, is a long inscription to the memory of the 
monarch. Of the statues which adorned this screen, 
there are now only four remaining, | 

The monuments subsequent to this period plaimly 
intimate a falling off in art, ‘Phe one to the memory 
of Queen Elizabeth, erected by James I., thoneh lofty 
and magnificent, has been rendered meretricious by 
painting and gilding; that of Elizabeth’s rival and 


342, 


victim, Mary of Scotland, is better, and the figure in 
white marble is more delicate. ‘The artists (or fashion) 
still adhered to the recumbent position; but the ad- 
vance which had been gained in quietness of expression 
and variety in the flowing folds of the drapery, by the 
artists of the preceding reigns, was lost, and vainly 
attempted to be compensated by the introduction of 
humerous surrounding figures, either kneeling at 
prayer or recumbent. The monument erected by the 
ereat Lord Burleigh to the memory of Mildred his 
wife, and their daughter Lady Ann, Countess of Oxford, 
though very costly, is rendered ineffective by being gilt 
and painted. ‘The tomb of King James's ‘* Burleigh” 
is plainer, and the figures are in a purer style, though 
of course stretched out in the all-prevailing and un- 
meaning posture. His first wife is laid on his right 
side, and a vacant space is left for his second, Frances 
Bridget, who was of the noble house of Chandos ; but 
she, with the pride of family, refused to allow her statue 
to occupy the deft, and the space is still vacant. ‘The 
monument of Sir Henry Norris, created Lord Norris 
by Queen Elizabeth, is also somewhat of an exception, 
and there are one or two others which deserve likewise 
to be qualifyingly excepted, as displaying an appear- 
ance of nature in the figures: but all the monuments 
of this period inay be generally dismissed, as exhibiting 
a degree of magnificence without simplicity, and effort 
without taste. Nicholas Stone, however, flourished 
during this period ;—an artist of considerable merit 
and ingenuity. And somewhat later, during the era 
of the Interreenum, when public opinion and public 
fury were strongly directed against every work of art 
that savoured in the slightest degree of popish pro- 
pensities, there was erected at least one monument 
11 this Abbey which distinctly proves that sculpture 
was not altogwether extinct: it 1s to the memory of 
Colonel Edward Popham, an officer in Oliver Crom- 
well’s army, and his lady, whose statues, in white 
marble, as large as life, stand under a lofty canopy, 
resting their arms, in a thoughtful posture, upon a 
marble altar. It is very well executed. 

After the Restoration we find that Cibber, Bushnell, 
and Grinling Gibbons, were conspicuous in calling the 
attention of the British public to the neglected art of 
statuary. But the monuments of this reviving period 
partake of the affected and pedantic character of the 
time, and-gods and goddesses, personifications of 
— and other allegorized conceits, are very abun- 
dant. 

Roubilliac, Rysbrach, and Scheemakers, French and 
Flemish artists, succeeded; and the abbey is enriched 
with many of their productions. Roubilliac was un- 
doubtedly a man of genius, and his monument to Lady 
Nightingale in the Abbey has been very generally 
admired, It consists of three figures, the lady expiring 
by her husband’s side, while he, with a look of horror, 
alarm,- and astonishment, is springing forward to in- 
tercept the dart of death, aimed by a skeleton emerging 
from below, and enveloped in drapery. Nothing, in- 
deed, can be finer than the expression on the coun- 
tenance of the male figure—it is perfect. But though 
the celebrated anatomist, John Hunter, pronounced 
the figure of the skeleton to be a faultless representa- 
tion, yet there is something in the subject itself which 
fails of that effective power which one might naturally 
expect from it. ‘The artist was aware of the incongruity 
of giving a visible form to a metaphysical idea; and 
the drapery from which the skeleton seems suddenly to 
start is well conceived and adjusted. ‘That ‘there is 
but a step between the sublime and the ridiculous” has 
high modern authority; and in this instance it is veri- 
fied. In spite of the exquisite sculpture, the ordinary 





MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


lien 


[Auausr 31, 


rather’ puny, though it is In proportion to the other 
fizures. The idea, however, is not new. Roubilliac 
himself, incited by his success in this figure, has intro- 
duced skeletons in other monuments. Pigalle, a fellow- 
countryman and contemporary of Roubilliac, has also 
introduced a skeleton, intended to represent Death, 
which is likewise enveloped in drapery, in his monu- 
ment to Marshal Saxe, in the church of St. Thomas 

at Strasburg. , : 

Thomas Banks, who has a tablet erected’ to his 
memory in the Abbey, has left a fine specimen of 
his abilities in the monument to Sir Eyre Coote. It 
consists of two figures, as large as life,—one a Mahratta 
captive, the other a Victory. The Mahratta figure is 
an admirable preduction of art—the chissel has given 
life to stone. ‘The colossal monument to the great Earl 
of Chatham, by John Bacon, is magmificent ;—its very 
magnificence alone would recommend it, had it no other 
merit. General Wolfe’s is also worthy of record, as is 
Sir Isaac Newton’s, Handel’s, and a host of others, 
which it would be useless and absurd to specify in an 
article such as this. We mention them for the purpose 
of showing the rapid strides which the art of sculpture 
took in the latter part of the last century. Though 
still encumbered with conceits, and revelling in alle- 
vories,—in the production of which the imagination was 
racked to devise new forms, in which earth, ocean, fame, 
the virtues, Britannia, and other emblematic designs, 
might be pressed into service,—still there was a high 
degree of talent manifested, the displays of which 
will command the respect and admiration of all who 
have the slightest pretensions to appreciate and enjoy 
the efforts and the triumphs of art. 

We now reach our own times, in which it may be 
safely asserted that statuary has arrived at the highest 
perfection which the annals of the Abbey can exhibit. 
Flaxman’s monument to Lord Mansfield is one of 
the noblest which England can boast. The Earl, in 
his judicial robes, is seated in a curule chair, placed 
on a lofty pedestal. On each side are figures of Jus- 
tice and Wisdom, while behind is a figure of Death, 
as represented by the ancients—a youth leaning on 
an extinguished torch. The monument is judiciously 
placed between pillars, so as to enable the spectator to 
walk round it. Adjoining it is a sumptuous cenotaph, 
to the memory of Captain Lord Manners and two others, 
by Nollekens—the correct and accurate Noliekens— 
whose busts perpetuate the features of a host of Britain’s 
best and brightest worthies. We mentioned in the 
preceding article that the monuments to Pitt and Fox 
were amongst the productions of Westmacott, and 
we now only add the name of Chantry. This truly 
admirable sculptor seems to aim at uniting, in a single 
statue, all that inferior artists labour to express in a 
multiphcity of figures and of ornament. Stern majesty 
and solemn grace beam from the productions of his 
chissel ;—-he requires neither conceit nor allegory to. 
enable him to reach the perfection of his “ craft.” The 
Statue of Francis Horner, who closed his short but 
useful life in 1817,—the majestic one of Watt, and the 
one just erected to Canning, which is vharacterized by 
the highest efforts of his eenius, are alone sufficient to 
place him in the first rank of his profession. 

We have not mentioned the south transept of the 
Abbey, so well known as ‘“* Poets’ Corner,” as the 
monuments are more indebted for their interest to the 
names they bear, than to the art of the sculptor. Here 
Geoffrey Chaucer, the father of English poetry, has his 
memorial—though now much defaced; Milton, whose 
mind pierced into the “region of invisibles ;” Shakspeare, 
whose empire was man; Butler, the quaint and witty ; 
‘rare Ben Jonson,” Dryden, Cowley, Phillips, Spenser, 





spectator is balanced between an inclination to smile| Prior, ‘Thomson, Rowe, Gay, Goldsmith, Addison,. 
aud a disposition to admire—perhaps the skeleton is! and Watts, with Handel ‘and Garrick, ‘Many illustricus 





-1834,] 


names are, however, wanting :—Pope, whose muse con- 
tributed to the monnments cf others, has no memorial 
here; and we want Walter Scott by the side of William 
Shakspeare. The great Duke of Argyle, immortalized 
by Scott in the ‘ Heart of Mid-Lothian ;’ Isaac Barrow, 
the father of English divinity; Isaac Casaubon, the 
profound scholar and learned critic, who found a shelter 
in England; William: Camden, the antiquarian; Gran- 
ville Sharpe, the friend of man and of the negro race, 
have also memorials here. Washington Irving, in his 
‘ Sketch Book,’ says of this spot :—‘‘ I passed some 
time inPoets’ Corner which occupies an.end of one of 
the transepts, or cross aisles, of the abbey. The monu- 
ments are generally simple, for the lives of literary 
men afford no striking themes for the sculptor. Shak- 
speare and Addison have statues erected to their memo- 
ries; but the greater part have busts, medallions, and 
sometimes mere inscriptions. Notwithstanding the 
simplicity, of these memorials, I have always observed 
that the visiters to the abbey remain longest about 
them. A kinder and fonder feeling takes place of that 
cold curiosity or vague admiration with which they 
eaze on the splendid monuments of the great and the 
heroic. ‘ney linger about these as about the tombs 
of frieads and companions; for indeed there is some- 
thing of companionship between the author and the 
reader. Other men are known to posterity only through 
the medium of history, which is continually growing 
faint and obscure; but the intercourse between the 
author and his fellow-men is ever new, active, and 
-immediate: he has lived for them more than for him- 
self; he has sacrificed surrounding enjoyments, and 
shut himself out from the delights of social life, that 
he might the more immediately conmune with distant 
minds and distant ages. Well may the world cherish 
his renown ; for it has been purchased, not by deeds of 
violence and blood, but by the diligent dispensation 
of pleasure. Well may posterity be grateful to his 
memory ; for he has left it an inheritance, not of empty 
names and sounding actions, but whole treasures of 
wisdom, bright gems of thought, and golden veins of 
language.” 

Lhe cloisters of the Abbey are on the south side of 
the church, and remain nearly entire. In them are 
the monuments of some of the earlier abbots, and ad- 
joming them is Westminster School. ‘l'o the north- 
west once stood the Sanctuary, where many a daring 
criminal was sheltered, and several royal persons took 
refuge, during the disastrous civil wars of England. 
Westward of the Abbey was the Almonry (the Ambry, 
as it is now vulearly called, degraded as it Is into a 
street of the most squalid and wretched description), 
where Caxton printed ‘The Game and Play of the 
Chesse,’ the first book he printed in this country, and, 
if not the first in England, amongst the very first; 
the house is yet standing. ‘The old father of printing 
himself is not buried, as he ought to have been, in the 
Abbey ; he lies in the adjoining church of St. Mar- 
waret’s, where the Roxburgh Club have erected a neat 
and appropriate monument to his memory. 

In this hasty manner we have run over a period of 
about five hundred years, and of which Westminster 
Abbey contains monuments appertaining to every gene- 
ration. ‘The admirer of the art of sculpture has here as 
ample a field as the moralist in which to enjoy his pecu- 
liar taste. Upwards of four hundred monuments to 
characters more or less illustrious, besides a vast number 
of tablets and tombs, fill the place, which is still accu- 
mulating its treasures. We could have wished that a 
rigid spirit had all along presided over the admission of 
these memorials of the dead—that the Abbey had become 
a truly sacred enclosure, regulated by higher principles 
than financial ones—and that the privilege of being 
numbered amongst the illustrious dead was not mea- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


343 


sured by the ability to pay the fees. Of the 60007, 
voted by the nation to Bacon for the monument to 
Earl Chatham, 700/. were appropriated by the Chapter 
as the fees of admission! What a mockery is it that 
the monument of Newton should be associated with 
that of the ‘* carver in ordinary” of Charles IT.;— 
that a murdered rake, whose merit was his money, and 
his fate the singularity of being shot in his own chariot, 
on a Sunday, in Pall-Mall, should claim the attention, 
and divide the interest, with Perceval, slain in the lobby 
of the House of Commons ;—that a child of a gentle- 
man of the royal bedchamber should fill a space which 
might have been occupied by one grown grey in. the 
service of the human race! In our opinion, Westminster 
Abbey should be peculiarly a privilezed place—the 
sanctuary of valour—of genius—of rank illustrious in 
the service of its country—of beauty and virtue con- 
spicuous in their influence on society. Addison, in his 
beautiful remarks on the subject, observes that, “* when 
he meets with the grief of parents upon a tombstone, his 
heart melts with compassion; and when he sees the 
tombs of parents themselves, he considers the vanity of 
grieving for those whom we must quickly follow.” 
But this is a general way of moralising, applicable to 
any dormitory of the dead. Westminster Abbey should 
be exempted as being the resting homestead of all who 
have risen to eminence ti active life, and by their station, 
character, or genius, shed an influence on the world. 

We have already quoted from the admirable paper 
of Washington Irving on Westminster Abbey, and 
cannot do better than conclude this article with his 
closing: reflections. 

“I endeavoured to form some arrangement in my 
mind of the objects I had been contemplating, but 
found they were already falling into indistinctness and 
confusion. Names, inscriptions, trophies, had all 
become confounded in my recollection, though IT had 
scarcely taken my foot off the threshold. What, thought 
I, is this vast assemblage of sepulchres but a treasury 
of humiliation; a huge pile of reiterated homilies on 
the emptiness of renown, and the certainty of oblivion ' 
It is indeed the empire of death;—his great shadowy 
palace, where he sits in state mocking at the relics of 
human glory, and spreading dust and forgetfulness on 
the monuments of princes. How idle a hoast, after all, 
is the immortality of a name! Time is ever silently 
turning over his pages; we are too much engrossed by 
the story of the present to think of the characters and 
anecdotes that gave interest to the past, and each age 
is a volume thrown aside to be speedily forgotten. The 
idol of to-day pushes the hero of yesterday out of our 
recollection, and will in turn be supplanted by: his 
successor of to-morrow. ‘ Our fathers,’ says Sir 
Thomas Brown, ‘ find their graves in our short memo- 
ries, and sadly tell us how we may be buried in.our 
survivors. History fades into fable ;—fact becomes 
clouded with doubt and controversy ; the inscription 
moulders from the tablet;—the statue falls from the 
pedestal. Columns, arches, pyramids, what are they 
but: heaps of sand; and their epitaphs but characters 
written in the dust! What is the security of a tomb, or 
the perpetuity of an embalmment? The remains: of 
Alexander the Great have been scattered to the wind, 
and his empty sarcophagus is now the mere curiosity of 
amuseum, ‘The Keyptian mummies which Cambyses 
or time hath spared, avarice now consumeth ; Mizraim 
cures wounds, and Pharaoh is sold for balsams”*.’ 

‘¢ What then is to ensure this pile which now towers 
above me from sharing the fate of mightier mausoleums? 
The time must come when its gilded vaults, which now 
spring so loftily, shall lie in rubbish beneath the feet ; 
when, instead of the sound of melody and praise, the 
wind shall whistle through the broken arches, and the 

* Sir Thomas Brown, 


zm 


B44 MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. [Aucust 31, 1934 


owl hoot from the shattered tower ;—when the garish | as if in mockery of the dead. Thus man passes away ; 
sunbeam shall break into these gloomy mansions of | his name perishes from record and recollection ; his 
death; and the ivy twine round the fallen column, and | history is as a tale that is told, and his very monument 
the fox-glove hang its blossoms about the nameless urn, | becomes a ruin.” 


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[ Poets’ Corner. ] 








_&,* The Office of the Society for ths Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 
LONDON -—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREE 








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{Merino Sheep, Male and Female. ] . 


‘ Merino” is the name of a Spanish breed or variety 
of sheep, which affords a woul esteemed to be finer than 
that which any other European breed produces. The 
appearance which the merino exhibits will be seen 
from our wood-cut. In this breed the males have 
horns, but the females are without them. ‘They have 
generally white faces and legs, The: body does not 
seem very perfect ‘in shape; the legs are long, the 
bones small; and’ under the throat the skin is some- 
what pendulous and loose. The skin of the animal 
is fine and clear. When they are somewhat fat, the 
weight, per quarter, of the ram is about seventeen 
pounds, and of the ewe about eleven pounds, — 

The sheep of Spain are divided into two principal 
sorts: the common sheep, which continue on the grounds 
of their owners, and are housed in winter; and the 
merinos, which always remain in the open air, tra- 
velline before the summer to the cool mountains, and 
returning before the winter to the warm plains. The 
stationary sheep chiefly belong to the eastern provinces 
of Spain; while the merinos belong to the central and 
western parts,—the.Castiles, Leon, and Estremadura. 
In summer they resort chiefly to the plains of the latter 
provinces, and in winter to the mountainous parts of 
Castile, which form the most elevated part of Spain, 
and abound in aromatic plants and fine pasttires. Dif- 
ferent accounts are given of the origin of this practice ; 


° e o 
but we have no distinct knowledge of the existence 


Christians began to prevail against the Mohammedans 
in the thirteenth’ century, and’ came down from the 
mountains of the north'into the provinces of the centre. 
and the south. After that time, however, the system of 
migration became well and firmly established ; and 
before the Moorish kingdom of Granada had been finally 
reduced -in the fifteenth century, the system had been 
organized, under the authority of the government, in 
nearly its present form. ‘This we shall now proceed to 
describe, taking Laborde, a statistical writer on Spain, 
as our principal euide in the description. : 

There is an institution peculiar to Spain called the 
Mesta. It is a society of noblemen and other great 
proprietors, to whom the migratory sheep belong ; who 
are empowered to make regulations concerning the 
migrations of the flocks ; and who, in fact, are a great 
co-operative body of capitalists. ' Unfortunately they 
possess powers and privileges much at variance with 
the interests of the people. ‘The term mesta is also 
applied to the great body of the migratory sheep in 
general ; while the particular flocks are called merinos 
and transhumantes. i 3 

These flocks, when assembled for migration, gene- 
rally consist of about ten thousand sheep. Every flock 
is conducted by an officer called a mayoral, whose 
business it is to superintend the shephérds and direct 
the route: he is generally an active man, well ac- 
quainted with the kinds of pasturage, the nature of 


of travelling flocks in Spain until the time when the | sheep, and the method of treatment. Under him there 


Vou, III, 


2 Y 


346 


are commonly about fifty shepherds, each of whom is 
allowed to keep a few sheep or goats of his own in the 
flock, on the understanding, that although they and 
any young: they.may produce are his property, the wool 
and the hair belong to the proprietor of the flock. 
‘The number of persons thus employed in the care of 
the whole of the flocks that compose the Mesta are 
about forty-five or fifty thousand. ‘The dogs are also 
very numerous, fifty being the number commonly 
allowed to each flock. 

Tt is at the: latter end of. April, or the beginning of 
May, that the flocks leave the plains for the mountains. 
When they have been driven to the place where they 
are to remain, the shepherds give them as much salt as 
they are willing to lick; and the quantity of this article 
allowed for their consumption during the five summer 
months is one ton for every thousand sheep. At the 
end of July the rams are permitted to associate with 
the ewes, but before and after that time they are kept 
separate. In September the backs and loins of the 
sheep are rubbed with red ochre dissolved in water ; 
and towards the end of the same month they recom- 
mence their march to the plains of Leon, Estremadura, 
and Andalusia. The sheep are generally conducted to 
the same ground which they had grazed the preceding 
vear, and where most of the lambs were born. Here 
folds are constructed for the sheep, and huts of branches 
for the shepherds; and there they remain during the 
winter. The birth of the lambs takes place shortly 
after the arrival of the flocks in winter quarters; and 
particular attention is paid to prepare them by good 
diet for the journey in April. In March the shepherds 
have much to do with the lambs: they cut the tails, 
mark the nose with a hot iron, and saw off the points 
ofthe horns. When the time approaches for the flocks 
tq depart for the mountains, they indicate their desire 
to migrate by their restlessness, and by their endeavours 
to escape. The shearing takes place in the month of 
May, during the summer journey. This business is 
introduced with much of preparation and ceremony, 
and the intervals of the labour are cheered by a creat 
deal of jollity and merry-making. ‘The shearing is 
performed under cover. The animals are previously 
put into a building consisting of two apartments, from 
four to eight hundred paces long and one hundred wide. 
As many of the sheep as are to be sheared the following 
day are taken in the evening into a narrow, long, low 
hut, called the sweating-house, where, being much 
crowded together, they perspire freely, which renders 
the wool softer and more easy to be cut. This is one 
of the practices fhe Spaniards appear to have derived 
from the Romans. One hundred and twenty-five men 
are usually employed for shearing a thousand ewes, 
and two hundred for a thousand wethers. Each sheep 
affords four kinds of wool, more or less fine according 
to the parts of the animal whence it is taken. The 
rams yield more wool than the ewes, but not of so fine 
a quality ; three rams or five ewes afford twenty-five 
pounds. ‘The wool is sorted and washed before being 
sent away. ‘The sheep that have been sheared are 
carried to another place and marked; and those which, 
in the course of the individual inspection they undergo 
on this occasion, are found to have lost their teeth, are 
set apart to be killed for mutton. 

The journey which the flocks make in their migration 
is regulated by particular laws and immemorial customs. 
The sheep pass unmolested over the pastures belonging 
to the villages and the commons which lie in their 
road, and have a right to feed on them. ‘They are not, 
however, allowed to pass over cultivated lands, but the 
proprietors of such lands are obliged to leave for them 
a path of about eighty-four yards in breadth. When 
they traverse the commonable pastures, they seldom 
travel-more than six miles a day; but when they walk 


“THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{SeprremBeEr 6, 


in. close order through the. cultivated fields, they often 
proceed upwards of eichteen miles, and they have some- 
‘times been known to go twenty-five or thirty miles in 
one day, in order to reach a convenient place for halt- 
ine. The whole of their Journey is usually an extent of 
from 360 to 420 miles, which they perform in thirty or 
thirty-five days. Popular opinion in Spain attributes 
the superiority of the wool in the merino to these 
periodical migrations ; but this appears to be disproved 
by the fact that the wool of the stationary sheep is 
sometimes equally good, and still more by the very 
great superiority of the wool of the German merino, 
which does not migrate at all. The number of the 
migratory sheep in Spain is at present estimated at 
10,000,000, and of the stationary at 8,000,000. 

The existence of the system which we have been 
describing is considered to constitute a great har to 
agricultural improvement in Spain. The Mesta, of 
which we have already spoken, has a code of peculiar 
laws, administered by four judges, whose jurisdiction 
extends to all matters that are in any degree connected 
with the Mesta, and who take particular care that 
none of its privileges shall be infrmged. Among the 
evils which the system produces, it is complained that 
the forty or fifty thousand persons employed in attend- 
ing the sheep are lost to the state, as to the purposes of 
agriculture and population, as they scarcely ever marry ; 
—that a vast quantity of good land is converted into 
pasturage, and produces comparatively nothing ;—that 
great damage is committed with impunity to the culti- 
vated lands during the journeys of the flocks—and this 
is so much the more injurious as, at the time of the 
first journey, the corn is considerably advanced in its 
growth, and at the second, the vines are loaded with 
grapes ;—that the commonable pastures also are so 
completely devastated by the migratory flocks, that 
the sheep of the resident population can hardly pick 
up a subsistence ;—and that the flocks of the Mesta 
are of no use in an agricultural point of view, for, 
as they are never folded upon arable land, they 
contribute nothing to its fertilization. Besides this, 
the directors and shepherds are dreaded in every 
place to which they come, for they exercise a most in- 
tolerable despotism,—the consequence of the improper 
privilege which they possess of bringing whoever they 
may choose to insult béfore the tribunal of the Mesta, 
whose decisions are almost invariably in favour of its 
servants. The existence of the Mesta has therefore lone 
been a subject of public complaint and remonstrance, 
and even the general states of the realm have been 
continually requesting the suppression of it. For 
a long series of years these appeals were made in 
vain, but about the middle of the last century the 
covernment felt itself obliged to pay some attention to 
the subject. A committee of inquiry was therefore ap- 
pointed to take the matter into consideration, but the 
influence of the Mesta prevailed in the committee and 
elsewhere; so that though the commission is still, we 
believe, understood to exist, it has not yet e@iven its 
opinion on the subject of the Mesta, or proposed any 
remedy for the evils it produces. 

“The Merino, or Spanish breed of sheep, was intro- 
duced into this country about the close of last century. 
George JII. was a great patron of this breed, which 
was, for several years, a very great favourite. But it 
has been ascertained that, though the fleece does not 
much degenerate here, the carcass, which is naturally 
ill-formed, and affords comparatively little weight of 
meat, does not improve; and as the farmer, in the kind 
of sheep which he keeps, must look not only to the pro- 
duce of the wool, but also to the butcher-market, he has 
found it his interest to return to the native breeds of 
his own country and abandon the Spanish sheep. They 

have, however, been of considerable service to the flocks 


1834.) 


of England, having been judiciously crossed with the | 


South Down, Ryeland, &c.*” ‘The merino was intro- 
duced into most of the other countries of Europe, in the 
course of the last century, with very various success. 
{t has also at later periods been carried out to New 
South Wales, Van Diemen’s Land, the Cape of Good 
Hope, and the United States; and it seems now to 
have been sufficiently established that, wherever the 
animal has been attended to for the sake of its wool, it 
will afford good wool, but that'the quality of the wool 
deteriorates when that of the mutton becomes an object. 

We avail ourselves of this opportunity to mtroduce 
a table of the number of sheep in some of the states of 
Europe as compared with the population. We take it 
from an article, by M. Huot, in’ the ‘ Encyclopédie 
Moderne,’ but have felt ourselves bound to make one 
alteration. In the original, 45,000,000 sheep are 
assiened to Great Britain—a number obtaincd, we 
presuine, by allowing a certain rate of increase on the 
42,000,000 given by Dr. Colquhoun in 1812; but 
Mr. Macculloch allows no authority to the calculation 
of this writer, and considers that the whole number 
of sheep in the United Kingdom does not at present 
exceed 32,000,000, which number we have therefore 
adopted. 


No. of Sheep 
Population. Sheep. to 1,000 

Inhabitants. 
Duchy of Anhalt-Bernburg... 56,000 90,000 1666 
Spain . 2 Poe ee... 839500,000 18,700,000 1385 
Great Britain and Ireland ....24,500,000 32,000,000 1306 
Duchy of Brunswick ....+.e. 242,000 280,000 1157 
Grand Duchy of Saxe-Weimar 222,000 250,000 1126 
France ..e..sccescscesoees 632,000,000 35,000,000 1093 
Hanover....cecsececccccee 1,950,000 1,600,000 1032 
Prussia. eecoeecnateseGet@enend . 12,400,000 9,000,000 725 
Saxonysscsscoveccececcsees 1,400,000 1,000,000 714 
Russia in Europe eeseeeteece -52,600,000 36,000,000 684 
Austria. aeetenrecnesseeosve .32,000,000 12,000,000 375 





SNOW HARVEST.—No. II. 


In Naples, the snow-trade, like those of salt, to- 
bacco, &c., all over the kingdom, was, from very old 
times, a government monopoly. The king was ac- 
customed to farm it to a company, who paid so many 
thousand ducats a year for the privilege, and who were 
moreover bound to sell the snow at a fixed unvarying 
price, and severely fined whenever they left the city 
unprovided with a quantity sufficient for the demand. 
The government, having committed the folly of inter- 
fering with this, or any other, branch of ‘trade, at least 
showed wisdom in this severity, for few things could be 
more likely to excite the people to-revolt than a dearth 
of snow in the dog-days. The Dogana della Neve is 
farmed, and produces a considerable revenue. 

Of the mountains of snow brought daily into Naples, 
some goes to private families, who use it at their meals, 
some to the coffee-houses and sorbettieri, where it is 
made up in sherbet, lemonade, ices, &c., &c., and a large 
quantity to itinerant: venders of inferior gelatz, and to 
stationary acquaioli, or water-sellers, who cool with it 
the plain beverage they sell to passengers at the corner 
of almost every street. In domestic usage, it not merely 
does its duty in the wine-cooler, but it is served up at 
table in an open vessel, out of which each person helps 
himself to a piece as he prepares to drink his wine,— 
which, we must remark, is always drunk from tumblers. 
There is a knack of filling up the mouth of the tumbler 
with a piece of snow and then pouring the wine gently 
upon it, letting it filter through the snow into the glass. 
That great desideratum, an icy-cold draught, is thus 
procured, and the effect to the eye is pleasing enough, 
particularly when “* Capri Rosso,” or any other ruby- 
coloured wine, is thrown upon the sparkling frozen 
snow. : 


* Macculloch’s Dictionary of Commercé—Vool. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


347 


The coffee-houses, which are very numerous, nearly 
all sell lemonade and ices during summer. From eight 
o’clock in the morning till five in the afternoon the trade 
is mostly confined to sherbet and lemonade ; but at the 
evening hour they bee in a vigorousmanufacture of gelati; 
which, in a well-frequented shop, knows no rest or ces- 
sation until after midnight. ‘The gentry stop at the doors 
of these shops, and take the ices in their carriages, or 
sometimes go into the shop, the entire fronts of which are 
thrown open to the street. Onaformer occasion (Vol. IT., 
p. 306), we praised their manufacture of maccaroni, 
and we must say here that the Neapolitans and the 
Sicilians are the best makers of ices in the world. 
The Parisian artists in that line are not to be compared 
with them, while our Enelish ones are generally bad. 
The variety in the names and qualities of their gelati is 
almost endless. :‘To make good ices good sugar is 
indispensable, and it was a sore affliction for these 
manufacturers, during some part of the existence of 
Buonaparte’s continental system, to be obliged to 
use honey, or sugar made by F’rench chemists from 
carrots and beet-roots, instead of the West Indian 
sugars we were wont to sell them. A few years ago 
there was a great sorbettiero living at the top of the 
Strada Toledo ;—he was an old man who had witnessed 
sundry revolutions and innumerable political changes, 
but he only cared for two—the Milan and Berlin 
decrees that shut out sugar and made bad ices, and the 
fall of Napoleon and the abrogation of the said decrees, 
which threw trade open and brought about good ices. 

While these shops supply the gentry, the itinerant 
venders deal with the poorer classes. Every summer 
evening, on the long mole, by the port, and in other 
places much frequented by the people, these eloquent 
and noisy traders ply their business. Their wares, of 
course, are not so good, but then they are much cheaper, 
—and are they not always cold? For three, four, or 
five grains, the sailor, the fisherman, the thirsty ca- 
lessiero, or other labouring man, can obtain that 
summum bonum—a long mouthful of something cold 
and sweet. On the evenings of church festivals and 
holidays the trade carried on in this way is very ex- 
tensive indeed, and, on such occasions, the flying: ice- 
sellers are found in all the busy suburbs and outlets: of 
the town, maintaining a deafening rivalry with the 
venders of water-melons and other luxuries. 

But the steadiest, the least luxurious, and the mest 
generally useful consumption of snow: is perhaps that 
made by the stationary acquaioli, or water-sellers. 
The shop, or trade.establishment of one of this class of 
dealers, is a singular and not unpicturesque object. 
There is a high table or bench, having, on either side, 
two perpendicular wooden columns, between which 
(generally on both sides) is suspended a water-barrel 
that swings to and fro on aniron axis. These columns, 
or pillars, are crowned by an architrave, and a fantasti- 
cally-shaped pediment finishes the out-door wooden 
shop, which may be about five feet long, four broad, 
and twelve high, to the top of the pediment. It is 
eenerally placed at the corner of a street, and always 
against the wall, leaving just space enough for the 
dealer to stand between the wall and his bench.’ The 
whole of the construction, were it not so bedizened and 
furnished out, would not look much unlike a pulpit; 
but as it is, it may more correctly be compared to a 
Chinese moveable Joss temple. It is painted all over 
with the gaudiest colours, frequently rudely carved and 
gilded, and decorated with flags and peacocks’ feathers, 
while from pediment and column hang drinking-glasses 
of all sizes and fashions; and other glasses, mixed with 
bottles, flasks, oranges, and lemons, “ in most admired 
disorder,” bestrew the table cr bench. In the’ rear of 


i this medley, and generally bolt upright against the wall, 
1 and: elevated on a stool, stands the officiating minister 


2 Y¥ 2 


848 


of the temple, with a white or a red nightcap on his 
head, a red sash round. his loins, his throat, chest, and 
arms entirely bare, and in his right hand an enormous 
pair of iron squeezers, or pincers, big enough and strong 
enough to draw the teeth of a mammoth, but which he 
only uses to express the juice from his oranges and 
lemons into the glasses of thirsty passengers. 

The swinging water-barrels are closed at one end 
with thick cork, in which there is a large bung-hole for 
the admission of pieces of snow, and a small aperture 
for the emission of the cooled water. When the snow 
is thrown in, the man agitates the barrel until it is par- 
tially dissolved in the water; he also. gives a shake or 
two every time, he draws off a glass for a customer. A 
plain’ glass of water, but deliciously cold, -with . the 
vapour exudine through and standing on the outside 
of the glass like dew, only costs about half a farthing ; 
—for twice that sum, a squeezed. lemon or orange, or 
some drops. of sambuco, are added. This sambuco is 
a curious, blueish, milky-looking liquor, distilled from 
the flowers of the elder-tree, of a peculiar but not un- 
pleasant taste when mixed with iced water. <A very 
ereat. quantity of it is consumed in this way. ‘The 
acquaiola, moreover, 1S. always furnished with certain 
double-sized «lasses of portentous dimensions, for which 
double price is charged. Rum, brandy, and all ardent 
spirits are.utter.strangers to the sanctity of the. water- 
drinking shrine. It surprises some strangers to see that 
the Neapolitans, at.the hottest time of the day, and 
when ‘they are in a-state of the most profuse perspira- 
tion from the effects of work or of walking in the broil- 
ing sun, will stop before one of these temples. and take 
off: a, large glass-full of the coldest water at a draught, 
and. with impunity. But this they all do daily, and in 
the. hottest: weather several times in the course of the 
day. We believe. also that few foreigners live. long. at 
Naples without, doing precisely the same. thing, and 
with..just:the same impunity. - Tn the great thorough- 
fares ‘of. the town these acquaioli carry on an immense 
deal of business, their stands, at certain hours of the day, 
being ‘constantly s surrounded “by impatient customers, 
who: empty the elasses more quickly than, the. dealers 

en fill them. | 

Nella all that we have said here 4, Oy Naples may 
be ,applied to Sicily. | The great snow ‘store-house. of 
Sicily i is Mount Etna, and ‘the English and the natives 
at Malta-also derive their supplies from the caverns 
ong summits of that volcano. | 


THE BANK OF ENGLAND. | 


THE business of this great establishment was, originally 
transacted at Grocers’ Hall in the Poultry. Subse- 
quently, in the year 1732, the first stone of the pre- 
sent building was laid, on the site of the house and 
gardens of the first vovernor, Sir John Houblon; and 
it was completed i in the following year, from the designs 
of Mr. George Sampson. It then, however, only com- 
prised the centre of , the principal. or south front, the 
hall, the bullion’ court, and the court-yard. - The wings 
to ihe east and west were added by, Sir Robert Taylor, 
between the: years 1770 and 1786; and the remainder 
of the structure has been completed, by the present Sir 
John Soane, since -1788. This eminent architect has 
within these few years rebuilt the parts executed . by 
Sampson and. Taylor, so that the whole building may 
now be said to be from his designs ; - and it has in 
consequence been divested of that confusion of: styles 
and forms which it exhibited previously to 1825, what- 
ever may be thought of the peculiar character which it 
now presents. - .. 

The architectural ell of the exterior of this struc- 
ture are at-any rate in unison with the nature of. the 
cotabhianeiee conyeying. an impression of: opulence: and. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[SEPTEMBER 6, 


security. -The order and forms in most parts of the ex- 
terior have been copied from the Temple of Venus at 
Tivoli, and the monotony of an immense line of wall has 
been obviated by projecting entrances under lofty arches, 
panelled windows, cornices, &c.; the entrances being 
ornamented by fluted Corinthian columns, supporting 
entablatures, crowned by elevated turrets. The whole 
of this extensive pile covers an irregular area of about 
eight acres. The exterior wall measures in front, or on 
the south side, 365 feet ; on the west side 440 feet : 

the north side 410 feet; and on the east side 245 ior. 

The area comprises nine open courts ;—the Rotunda, 
or circular room, several large public offices, committee 
rooms, and private apartments for the residence of 
officers and servants. The principal suite of rooms is 
on the ground-floor, and the chief offices, being fur- 
nished with Jantern-lights and domes, have no apart- 
ments over them; but beneath this floor, and even 
below the surface of the ground, there is more building 

and a greater number of rooms than above round. 

Part of ‘the edifice is raised on a soft, marshy soil, being: 
in the course of the ancient stream at Walbrook; and it 
was therefore necessary to strengthen the foundations 
by means of piles, and to construct counter-arches 
beneath the walls. 

The principal entrance to the Bank is in Thread- 
needle Street,’ but there are other entrances in Bar- 
tholomew Lane and Lothbury, and at the north-west 
angle of Princes Street. The-latter.consists of:a noble 
por rtico, having a raised basement, on which stand eight 
fluted Corinthian columns, which are disposed semi- 
circularly, and support a highly-enriched frieze and 
attic, with a turret above. The vestibule, or cutrance 
hall fiom ‘Princes Street, bears the impressive and grave 
character of a mausoleum. The massive Doric columns, 
without bases, are placed on three different planes, 
raised by steps, in imitation of the Propylea at Athens. 
Lothbury Court opens from a spacious and lofty archi- 
way, and presents an interesting display of architectural 
features designed after the ‘best specimens of Grecian 
and Roman art. - The brick buildings on the north 
and west sides are partially masked by open screens of 
stone, of the Corinthian order, copied from the Temple 
of the Sybils near Tivoli. , The magnificent arch and 
fagade on the south side ‘of this court, forming the 
entrance to the Bullion Court, were designed on the 
model of the triumphal arch of Constantine at Rome. 
Statues emblematical of the four quarters of the world 
surmount the entablature; and, within the inter- 
columniatious, there are allegorical representations, 
executed by Banks, of iis Thames and Ganges in 
bas-relief. 

The Rotunda, den _ an immediate communica- 
tion through its vestibule from the entrance in Bartho- 
lomew Lane, is a spacious circular chamber, with a 
lofty dome, fifty-seven feet.in diameter, crowned by a 
lantern, the divisions in which ave formed by carya- 
tides. In this room, large desks, with pens, ink, &c., 
are’ placed . for public convenience. - There a large - 
number of: persons of all nations ora classes assemble 
on public. days to, buy and sell stock, But since the 
erection of the New. Stock Exchange,: the: business 
transacted at ‘the Rotunda has diminished in quantity 
and importance; although it is much frequented by 
stock-holders,’ who wait ~ there to learn the result of 
commissions given to their brokers. ‘The dome of this 
room is very’ striking as a work of art; but it is ill 
adapted for an assembly of talking & persons : the rever- 
beration is overpowering. ', The Three per, Cent. Consol 
Office is another fine’ apartment, in which Sir John 
Soane. has. _displayed ‘much ,taste and skill. It is an 
oblong. room, about ninety feet in length: and fifty in 
breadth, desigtied from models of the ancient Roman 
baths, and of a very highly-enriched and. classical 


1834.] 


character, 


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timber. The Three per Cent. Consol, Dividend, and 
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[The principal Front of the Bank of England, | 


feet long and forty feet wide), but ina separate build- 
ing, is the Clock, a very ingenious piece of mechanism, 
so contrived as to show the exact time in sixteen 
different offices, the necessary communications being 
maintained by brass rods, weighing about’ 700 lbs, 
The Court Room is a handsome apartment of the 
Composite order, designed by Sir Robert Taylor ; it 
is lighted from Venetian windows on the south side. 


350 


These windows overlook a pleasant area, planted with 
trees and shrubs, that was formerly the churchyard of 
St. Christopher’s, nearly the whole of which parish is 
now enclosed within the Bank walls. The old tower and 
remaining part of the church itself were taken down 
by authority of parliament, after the riots in 1780, the 
more effectually to secure this establishment. In some 
of the other offices there is much that is worthy of 
mention, and-much in architectural design to gratify 
the practised eye, when it perceives with what care and 
judgment the forms and styles of ancient art have been 
adapted to their respective situations. It becomes a 
question, however, whether utility has not in many cases 
been sacrificed to a love of classical decoration; and 
whether those forms of ancient architecture which we 
admired so much when surrounded with their original 
associations are not materially injured by their adapta- 
tion, piece by piece, to the construction of a large pile 
dedicated to the purposes of commerce. 

The greater part of this extensive edifice is of stone ; 
and, in order to obviate any danger from fire, all the 
new buildings erected under the superintendence of 
Sir John Soane have been constructed with incom- 
bustible materials, The vaults, in which the bullion, 
coin, bank notes, &c., are deposited, are also in- 
destructible by fire. The building has also the 
advantage—somewhat rare in the city—of standing 
perfectly detached ; it is, nevertheless,.closely hemmed 
in by the Royal Exchange on the south side and private 
houses on the others. On account of its inferior eleva- 
tion, however, it does not suffer so much from this 
cause as many other buildings; especially as an open- 
ing in Cornhill affords a fine view of the Threadneedle 
Street facade, which is represented in our wood-cut. 

The hours of business at the Bank are from nine in 
the morning until five in the afternoon, except on holi- 
days ; and any person may visit the Rotunda and most 
of the other public apartments. 


OLD TRAVELLERS. 


Wititrum vE Rusrvuauis.—No. IV, 


Durinea the residence of Rubruquis at the city of 
Kara-kerum, which at the tine was the grand khan’s 
capital, our traveller saw many Russians, Hungarians, 
and some Germans. There was also a considerable 
number of Armenian and Georgian Christians. He 
picked up some information about the Chinese, or 
Catayans, as they were so lone called, the Siberians, 
the Kamtchatkans, and (it should appear) the in- 
habitauts of the islands between the extremities of 
Asia and America where, at times, the sea was 
frozen over. JRubruquis was the first to inform us that 
the Chinese had a paper currency, a curious fact after- 
wards confirmed by Marco Polo. Such a currency was 
not adopted in Europe until centuries after. He was 
also the first to give a notion of the peculiar characters, 
and the mode of writing, of the Chinese. He says, 
they did not write with pens as we do, but with small 
brushes such as are used by our painters, and that in 
oue character or figure they gave a whole word. The 
common moeney of the Russians, he says, consisted in 
spotted or grizzled furs; and this primitive sort of cur- 
rency is still the only one known in the remoter parts of 
Siberia at this day. 
doing any good in 'Tartary, and being already tired of 
the court and the treatment he received there, the friar 
with great joy went to the palace on Whitsunday to get 
his leave for returning homeward. 

This permission, and a letter from the grand khan to 
St. Louis, were not ready until the festival of St. John, 
when the monks received some trifling presents from 
Manchu, and were finally dismissed. Father Bartho- 
Jomew of Cremona, the only European of the mission 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Seeing, however, slight hopes of 


{SEPTEMBER 6, 


that had accompanied Rubruquis thus far, was so 
terrified at the plan he now proposed to recross the 
very desert by which they had conte, that he left him, 
and remained behind with William the goldsmith until 
some more convenient opportunity of regaining Chris- 
tendom should present itself. Nothing daunted by 
this defection, the worthy friar began his journey in 
the direction he intended, accompanied only by his 
interpreter, one servant, and a guide. The guide had 
authority from the khan to take a sheep once in four 
days, wherever he could find it, for the support of 
the party. Rubruquis had been nearly two months on 
the road when he met Sartach, the great chieftain, whose 
acquaintance he had made on his outward journey near 
to the river Don. Sartach was now travelling with his 
wives and children, and many flocks and herds, to the 
court of the grand khan; but he had left the mass of 
the families, over whom he ruled, wandering with their 
cattle between the Don and the Volga. “To an appli- 
cation made by the friar for some books, dresses, and 
Other property left behind at the chieftain’s encamp- 
ment, Sartach replied, that he would find them all with 
Baatu, his father, or father-in-law. He sent Rubru- 
quis a civil message, and two silk pelisses, one for the 
King of France and the other for himself. On his way 
back the friar suffered almost as much as he had done 
going out. Several times he had nothing’ to sustain his 
strength, for three days together, except cosmos; and 
on more than one occasion he was well nigh perishing 
in the wilds, having’ missed the stations of the migra- 
tory tribes, exhausted even his cosmos, and almost 
worn out his horses. It was after a journey of four 
months, on the 16th of September, and precisely one 
year after he had quitted it to go on to Manchu-khan’s 
court, that he again reached the court or encampmeut 
of Baatu. Here he was courteously received, and 
recovered a part but not the whole of his property. 
Baatu and all his dependents had lone concluded that 
the monks must have perished; and some Nestorian 
priest, wrho lived sometimes with Sartach, and at others 
with Baatu, had appropriated their church vests, stoles, 
psalters, and such like effects. Wubruquis found two 
or three young men (Europeans), whom he had left 
behind, in tolerable health, but in abject poverty. The 
Tartars, believing the friar could never return, had 
asked them if they could manage oxen and milk mares, 
and’ they would have been reduced to servitude and 
bondage, but for the kind offices of some Armenians, 
and the arrival of Rubruquis. Baatu’s court was then 
about to move to Sarai, on the eastern bank of the 
Volga; and as our friar calls Sarai a town, and speaks 
of buildings, it seems probable that some of the wander- 
ing Tartars were adopting more fixed habits of life. 
Rubruquis accompanied the court during a whole 
month ; but, tired with the slow and indirect movements 
of the Tartars, who as usual conducted their flocks and 
herds with them, he procured a guide, took leave of 
Baatu, and pushed forward for Sarai, always keeping 
due south, and near to the Volga. He reached Sarai - 
without accident, and left that place on the feast of All 
Saints (lst of November), still travelling southward. 
For the first five days after quitting the Volga, which 
flows in several branches, our friar did not meet a 
human being, and for fifteen days he found only one 
little village or encampment, where one of the sons of 
Sartach was residing with a goodly company of falcon- 
ers and faleons. At this place they gave him a Tartar 
guard to protect him from the Leschis and other fierce 
and independent Mohammedan tribes. 

Our traveller went unmolested through the great 
defiles of Mount Caucasus, and through part of 
Armenia; but his progress was very slow. Thinking 
that his royal master was still in the Holy Land, he 
crossed the Araxes, and traversing the dominions of 


1834.) 


the Turkish sultan, Kurdish princes, and others, that 
included a great part of Asia Minor, he at length 
arrived at the city of Konieh, the ancient Iconium. 
He complains of the slow rate at which he had tra- 
velled in Asia Minor, and says that ‘ this delay arose 
in part from the difficulty of procuring horses, but 
chiefly because the guide chose to stop, often for three 
days together, in one place, for his own business; and, 
though much dissatisfied, I durst not complain, as he 
might have slain me, and those with me, or sold us all 
for slaves, and there was none to hinder it.” 

From Iconium he made his way across the rest of 
Asia Minor, and over Mount Taurus, to the Gulf of 
Scanderoon, where he embarked for Cyprus. At that 
island he found the father provincial of his order, and 
learned, with much sorrow, that King Louis, who had 
scnt him among the Tartars, was no longer in the 
Holy Land, but in France. Had Rubruquis known 
this sooner he would have shaped the latter part of his 
course very differently, for his great desire was to relate 
his adventures to the king in person, and to see Europe 
once more. But here he had thrown himself within 
the direct rule of his superior, who carried him to 
Antioch, and thence to Tripoli in Syria, where he 
arrived in the month of August, just in time to assist 
at a chapter of his order. He had been altogether 
about two years and six months on his travels, and he 
now earnestly besought his superior to allow him to go 
on to Paris; but the provincial, thinking he had had 
wandering enough, and-being a strict disciplinarian, 
ordered the friar to write to Louis, and then retire to 
his convent at Acre. When Rubruquis wrote, he 
implored the king to obtain the provincial’s permission 
for his going to France,. pledging his word that he 
would soon again return to his convent in the Holy 
and. We have not been able to ascertain whether he 
obtained this favour, or whether he remained shut up 
in his cell. Indeed, after his return to Syria, nothing 
more seems to be known of his life, except that he was 
alive somewhere as late as 1293, by which time a 
ereater traveller than he—Marco Polo—was on his way 
back to Europe. 

It is evident that these two early explorers, though 
they often confirm each other’s accounts of the Tartars, 
knew nothing at all of one another, either personally 
or by thcir respective fame and writings. Before the 
invention of printing, and the diffusion of a love for 
letters among the people, fame travelled very slowly. 
Iiven in France, Rubruquis himself was little known 
until many generations later. His letter to King 
Louis IX., containing the account of his travels, was 
written in the Latin of those days. An Englishman 
first gave it a*modern and popular dress*. This was 
old Hakluyt, who introduced a translation of the greater 
part of it in his ‘ Collection of Voyages and Travels,’ 
published about 1600. 

After Hakluyt, Purchas, in his ‘* Pilgrimes,” gave 
‘the whole letter, from a copy he found in “ Benet 
Colledge Library, in Cambridge,” with his usual 
felicitous quaintness. Purchas’s folio, which contains 
it, was published in' 1625. Four years after, Father 
Bergeron translated it from Purchas’s English into 
French, being aided, he says, by two old manuscript 
copies of the work in Latin. Since that time Rubru- 
quis has obtained reputation, and the place he merits 
in the history of travellers, some account of his journey 
being included in most collections of voyages and 
travels. His pictures of manners and customs are, 
as we have already said, exceedingly good ; but it is 
much to be regretted that, from want of geographical 
science,—from vagueness of language,—and in part, 
probably, from the mistakes of the earlier copyists of 

* Friar Bacon makes honourable-mention of Rubruquis, and 


gives a spirited abstract of his travels in one of his theological 
works,—but this was written in Latin, - 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


251 


his MS., we can-seldom trace his course with any 
precision. He had, however, the merit of being the 
first traveller that gave a correct account of the Caspian. 
That tnland separate sea was correctly described as 
such by the early Greeks, but afterwards a notion pre- 
vailed that it was connected with the northern ocean. 
Rubruquis ascertained that it was everywhere sur- 
rounded by land, and had no connection with the ocean 
or with any other sea. Yet, so little was the account 
of his journey read, that the old error was repeated in 
books of geography long after his time. 


YORK CASTLE AND CLIFFORD’S TOWER. 


Tue Castle of York, now the county gaol, stands at” 
the distance of about 200 yards from the eastern bank 
of the Ouse, and close to the Foss, which being brought 
round it in a deep moat or ditch renders it inaccessible, 
except from the city, on the north. Historical evidence 
sufficiently proves that before the Norman Conquest 
York had a castle, which Drake, in his ‘ Eboracum,’ 
supposes to have been the Old Baile, on the opposite 
side of the Ouse. ‘The castle on the present site, ac- 
cording to the opinion of the same author, was built by 
William the Conqueror, but probably on a Roman 
foundation. Having fallen to decay, it was repaired, 
or rebuilt, in the reign of Richard III. After it was 
no longer used as a fortress, it was converted into a 
county prison; but, having fallen into a ruinous state 
from age, it was taken down in the year 1701, and 
in its stead a structure was erected which, so lately 
as thirty years since, was considered to form one of 
the best regulated and most commodious prisons in the 
kingdom. However, it was presented by the grand 


jury at the Lent Assizes, in 1821, for insufficiency ; 


and this presentment was repeated at each succeeding 
assizes, until a resolution was at last passed, in the year 
1824, that a competition of architects should be invited 
in the usual manner, in order to procure the best plan 
for effecting the proposed improvements. ‘That of 
Mr, Robinson of London was preferred, and in 1826 
the works were commenced under his direction and 
superintendence. 

The plan of the new portion of the prison is upon the 
radiated and panopticon system, the’ governor’s house 
forming a centre from which all the prisons and airing 
courts diverge. iach prison is capable of containing 
20 individuals; the day-rooms are on the ground-floor, 
and the cells in two stories above. For each class of | 
prisoners there 1s a paved yard, and a court for exercise 
100 feet in length by 50 feet at the wide end, narrowed 
to 10 feet at the farther extremity. The cells are 
constructed 8 feet by 5 feet, with corridors affordine 
access to them all. ‘The peculiarity of the plan—and 
it is believed that this prison is the only one that has 
been built with this arrangement—is, that the governor 
and turnkeys can pass unseen from the centre to any 
part of the prison, through secret passages in each 
of the buildings, connected with a corridor of inspection 
which surrounds and connects the whole. From these 
passages, too, every thing that passes within the prisons 
can be seen; and as the prisoners know this, they have 
a right to suppose that the governor’s eye is always 
upon them. 

Prison building is not at all times interesting in an 
architectural point of view ; but the architect has, in this 
instance, adopted the castellated character. In enlarging 
the old building, he has formed his design in the style 
of the ancient bars or city-gates of York, which are 
much admired for their simplicity, and for the manner in 
which they preserve the architectural characteristics of 
the age in which they were built. The entrance gate- 
house, the internal elevation of which is exhibited in 
our wood-cut, is in some degree similar to the Monk 
Bar, It is flanked by circular towers of great strength, 


352 


and extends 70 feet in front by 46 in depth. The prison 
is fire-proof, the structure’ being entirely of stone; the 
walls are 5 feet thick below, and 3 feet above, and no 
timber is used in the floors, the stone extending from 
wall to wall. Each cell of the prison is covered with a 
single piece of stone 5 inches thick, and the cells are 
divided laterally by single stones 9 inches thick. The 
doors are of hammered iron, and three iron guards are 
placed in each aperture in the thickness of the wall. 

The boundary wall surrounding the new prison, the 
old debtor’s prison, and the court-house is.35 feet 
in height above the ground, and it has towers at inter- 
vals to strengthen it. ‘This wall is 1350 feet in length, 
and is, in itself, a specimen of, very. superior workman- 
ship. , Upon the whole, York Castle may be considered 
the strongest prison in England, and it is certainly one 
of the most complete and efficient. ‘The criminal side 
affords rooin for 160 prisoners, divided into eight classes 
of twenty each. The airing courts are divided by walls 
“wenty feet in height. The whole building is well 
supplied with water and well ventilated. i 

In all the alterations which have taken place, ‘* Clif- 
ford’s Tower,” which stands within the walls, and which 
we now proceed to notice, has been preserved with the 
most scrupulous care. ' | 

A short distance within the gateway there’is a high 
mound, thrown’ up with prodigious labour, and sur- 
rounded by a strong stone wall. It appears to be 


elevated at least ninety feet above thé level of the Ouse, 


and thirty feet above the site of the castlé or gaol, and 
the adjacent parts of the city.” On the summit of this 
mount stands an ancient tower, called ‘* Chifford’s 
Tower ;” and, according to tradition, one of that family 
was its first governor, after it had been built by the 
Conqueror for the purpose of overawing the city and 
country, The castle itself was ‘found by Leland in a 
ruinous. state in the time of Henry VIII.’ But on the 
commencement of the civil wars between Charles I.’and 







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the Parliament, it was completely repaired and fortified 
by order of the Earl of Cumberland, the governor of 
York. On the top of the tower was made a platform, 
on which several pieces were monnted: a earrison was 
appointed for its defence, and Colonel Sir Francis Cob 
was its governor during the siege of the city. After 
the surrender of York in 1644, it was dismantled of its 
garrison, except this tower, of which Thomas Dickenson, : 
the lord-mayor, a man strongly attached to the cause 
of the Parliament, was constituted governor. It con- 
tinued in the hands of his successors, as governors, till 
1683, when Sir John Reresby was appointed to that 
office by Charles II. ‘In the followine year, 1684; on. 
the festival-of St. George, about: 10 o’clock in the even- 
ing, the magazine took fire and blew up, and the tower 
was reduced to a shell, as it remains at this day. .. Whe- 
ther this happened accidentally or -by design was never: 
ascertained ; but the demolition of the ‘*.minced pie”. 
was, at that time, 2 common toast in the city; and: 
it was observed that the officers and soldiers of the. 
ovarrison had previously removed their effects, and that: 
not a single man perished by the explosion. , 
_ The mount on which.this tower stands corresponds,' 
as already observed, with that of the Old.Baile on the. 
opposite side of the Ouse. Within this tower is an: 
excellent well of water: here was also a dungeon. so: 
dark as not to admit the least ray of light. Drake; 
says,—‘* By the extraordinary labour required for the 
raising of this mount, it seems to have been effected by: 
no less than a Roman power, though the. Conqueror: 
might build the present structure, the inside of .which: 
exhibits a regularity .very uncommon in a Gothic. 
edifice.” But Mr. Bigland remarks on this,—‘ We, 
have no such topographical’ knowledge of the Roman, 
* Eboracum,: as can enable the present age to advance 
anything beyond conjecture on the subject; and great 
| works have bcen performed by other men as well as by; 
Romans.” 


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LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET,, 
Printed by Wittjam Crowzs, Duko Street Lambeth, 





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Tue town of Hull, or Kingston-upon-Hull, is situated | river Hull falls into the Humber, at the distance of 


in the East Riding of Yorkshire, at the point where the | about twenty-five miles from the mouth of the latter. 
Vou, All. 24 


354 


On the data of recent parliamentary returns, ull may 
be pronounced one of the three or four principal mari- 
time towns in the kingdom with regard to its foreion 
trade, while its inland trade exceeds that of every other 
English port. These advantages it owes to its adini- 
rable situation for commercial purposes, an idea of 
which will be better obtained by reference to a good 
map than from any verbal description. The river 
Humber is the common outlet by which all the eastern 
rivers of England, from the Tees to the Trent, discharge 
their waters into the North Sea. It therefore opeus 
an easy access from Hull eastward to the sea, and com- 
mands at the same time, by its various branches, the 
whole of the interior navigation of the west, and affords 
access to the widely-extended communications which 
ramify from thence to all parts of the kingdom. By 
means of the rivers Hull, Derwent, and Ouse, the 
Humber communicates with the East and West Ridings 
of Yorkshire. 'The Ouse and Calder navigation opens 
the communication, on the one haud, with the remainder 
of the West Riding, the seat of the woollen manufac- 
tures,—naturally barren, but rendered wealthy and 
populous by the power of industry and art; while, on 
the other hand, the same navigation communicates 
with Lancashire, the centre of the vast cotton manu- 
factures, and including the grand western emporlum— 
Liverpool, Then again the Trent affords access to the 
ereat stocking district of Nottingham, the mining and 
mineral district of Derbyshire, the potteries and coal 
of Staffordshire, and the whole course of the Severn to 
Bristol ; and by means of intermediate branches still 
farther communication is opened with Derbyshire and 
with Sheffield. The eastern waters which finally unite in 
the Humber, by the assistance of the subsidiary streams 
which extend to the west, the north, and the south, 
collect the various products of the districts through 
which they pass, and, depositing them at Hull, bear 
back in return the merchandize which had been drawn 
to that port by its great trade with foreign parts. The 
foundation for an extensive system of commerce having 
thus been laid in the situation of the place, what else 
was required has in the course of time been amply pro- 
vided by industry. 

The place is not mentioned in ‘ Domesday Book,’ as 
at the period of the Norman survey it was included in 
the manor of Myton; but it appears that, about the 
middle of the twelfth centnry, there were two villages, 
situated at the confluence of the Hull and the Humber, 
and called respectively Wyke and Myton. ‘The former 
must have become afterwards a place of some consider- 
ation for the time; as, in 1278, the abbot of the neigh- 
bouring monastery of Meaux, who was lord of the 
manor, procured for the town of Wyke, as it was then 
called, the grant of a market anda fair. The present 
name of the«place is derived from Edward I., who, on 
his triumphant return from Scotland in 1296, perceived 
the advantageons situation of the place as a commercial 
port, the prosperity of which he determined to encou- 
rage. Accordingly he purchased the manor of Myton, 
including the town of Wyke, the name of which he 
changed to Kingston or King’s-Town-upon-Hull, and 
consututed it a separate manor under the government 
of a warden and bailiffs. Three years after the same 
monarch made the town a free borough by royal charter, 
and endowed it with various immunities and privileges. 
‘The year following a mint for coinage was established 
in the place; and subsequently the roads to the town 
were much iniproved, and access to it was facilitated 
by ferries across the Humber. Hull prospered greatly 
under the royal favour, but Edward I. was not, as is 
sometimes erroneously stated, the parent of its prospe- 
rity, or the founder of the port; for the commerce of 
the place had beeomie considerable even so early as the 
reign of King John. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


From a record of the duties | 


[SeprensBer 13, 


paid at the severak ports of the kingdom in the year 
1205, it appears that Hull paid more than any other 
port except London, Boston, Southampton, Lincoln, 
aud Lyin; and, in the time of Edward himself, it had 
so far increased in relative commercial importance as 
to be, with respect to duties, inferior to London and 
Boston only. Sixty years after the period when Edward 
becaine iterested in the welfare of Hull, the town was 
able to contribute 16 ships and 466 mariners towards 
the fleet which his grandson, Edward III., collected 
for the invasion of France. ‘The town was first fortified 
under a charter of Edward II.; and, in the time of his 
erandson, Richard II., the walls were repaired and 
strengthened with towers of brick, by Sir Michael de 
la Pole, who is thought to have revived, on this occa- 
sion, the art of brick-making, which had been lost 
since the time of the Romans. ‘hs person, who was 
a native of Hull, possessed much influence in the state 
at that period, and to him the town was in some degree 
indebted for its subsequent prosperity. Henry VLI., 
besides confirming to the town all the privileges granted 
by his predecessors, erected it, with its precincts, into a 
distinct county, with the usual privilege of a separate 
jurisdiction. ; 

In the year 1536 Hull was taken by the York- 
shire insurgents under Robert Aske, who opposed 
the ecclesiastical changes that were then in progress, 
and who styled their expedition the ‘* Pilgrimage of 
Grace ;” but the rebellion was soon suppressed, and 
the leader executed. It was most probably this cir- 
cumstance that induced Henry VIII. to build two 
block-houses and a citadel on the east bank of the river 
Hull, at an expense, enormous at that time, of 23,0001, 
although he obtained great part of the materials from 
the dissolved houses of the Black and White Friars, 
and the church of St. Mary. Hull was the scene of 
another unsuccessful rebellion in 1569; and at different 
times in the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries 
the town suffered severely from plagues and inundations. 
Of the various visitations of the pestilence, that which 
commenced in 1635 was one of the most awful. It 
raged for three successive years, and to the natural 
horrors of this terrible calamity those of famine were 
added; for the country people were too much alarmed 
for their own safety to bring the customary supplies of 
provisions to the town, the population of which was left 
to perish with want and with the plague. A few years 
after the cessation of this calamity, Hull became the 
theatre of the war between Charles J. and the Parlia- 
ment. As a depét of arms and military stores had 
been established there previously to the commencement 
of hostilities, both parties were anxious to secure pos- 
session of a place of so much importance; and this cir- 
cumstance gives to Hull a place of some prominence in 
the early history of that unhappy contest. The attempt 
of the king to obtain admission, and the vacillating 
conduct of Sir John Hotham, the parhamentarian 
governor, are well known facts in the general history 
of the country. About the year 1681, large sums 
of money were expended by Charles II. in improving: 
the fortifications of the town. Most of the ancient 
fortifications have now, however, been demolished, and 
have given place to works of great extent and import- 
ance for the advantage of manufactures and commerce. 
The docks which, with the river Hull, nearly insulate 
the parish of St. Mary, which formed the old town, 
occupy the greater part of the space covered by the 
aucient defences. 

The docks are three. The first, in point of time, 
called the “‘ Old: Dock,” was begun in the year 1775. 
It enters the town from the Hull, about 300 yards 
from its mouth, and occupies the place of the old walls 
and ramparts on the north side of the town. It is 1703 
feet in length, 254 broad, and 66 deep. It covers an 


1934] 


extent of about 10 acres, and is capable of containing 
130 vessels of 300 tons. ‘The second dock, called the 
Humber Dock,” was begun in 1807, and completed 
in 1809 at a cost of 22U,000/. It is on the west 
side of the town, and the entrance is from the Humber, 
into which it opens by a lock which will admit a 50- 
gun ship, and which is crossed by an iron bridge. 
This dock is 914 feet in leneth, 342 in breadth, anid 7 
acres in surface. A third dock, named the ‘* Junction 
Dock,” was begun in 1826, and completed in 1829. 
It is 645 feet lone, 407 broad, and in extent more than 
6 acres: being tee! Peviiechn the two former, it 
completes a line of docks which extend from the Hull 
to the Humber, and divide the old town from the new 
by water on every side. The bridges across the locks 
are constructed of cast iron, on the lifting principle, 
each 24 feet wide, and said to be of ereater. magnitude 
than any moveable bridge of earlier date. 

The town itself has been greatly enlarged within the 
last forty years. From the point where the rivers Hull 
aud Flumber meet it now extends about two miles 
westward along the northern bank of the Humber, and 
rather more towards the north along the western bank 
of the Hull,—from its mouth at the Humber along the 
Hich Street, the oldest part of the town, to the northern 
extremity in the parish of Sculcoates. From the streets 
which line the Hull and Humber, and form the eastern 
and southern boundaries, various others, upon no very 
reeular plan, branch off into the interior,—from the 
former towards the west, and from the latter towards 
the north, crossing each other in different places, and 
covering a very extensive area of ground. Almost the 
whole town is of brick, and in eeneral well built and 
paved ;—furnished with well- constructed sewers, and 
lighted with gas. The streets in the old part of the 
town are, as might be expected, narrow, incommodious, 
and unpleasant. But the streets and buildings which 
have been added within the last forty years stronaly 
evince, by contrast, the progress of general improve- 
ment, and the taste for elegance and ornament which 
is generally exhibited when the increase in the wealth 
of a town is commensurate with the extension of the 
Space it occupies. In the new parts of the town, the 
streets are generally spacious and regular, and the 


buildings commonly elegant, and occa sionally magni- 


ficent. 

The whole town stands on a low and level tract of 
oround, within a short distance of the Wolds of York- 
shire. The place is now well secured from the danger 
of inundation by embankments.. Water, for the use of 
the inhabitants, is conveyed by pipes from a reservoir, 
which has the appearance of a canal, heing five miles 
in length. 

The public buildings of Hull are numerous ; but the 
only one that claims notice for architectural elegance or 
magnificence is the 'Trinity Church, a fine old structure, 
in the Gothic style, built about the year 1312. It 
occupies a space of 20,056 square feet. It extends 
279 feet from the west door to the east end of the 
chancel, 
the transept 28, and the length of the chancel 100, 
The breadth of the nave is 72 feet, and the breadth of 
the chancel 70 feet. St. Mary’s Church, commonly 
called the Low Church, was built a few years later 
than the preceding, and was once a maenificent and 

xtensive edifice, of which the existing building con- 
stituted the choir, the remaining part having been 
pulled down by order of Henry VIii.: the present 
tower was added in 1696. The other church, that of 
St. Jolin, is a neat and simple brick building, finished 
in 17925 it is wholly built upon arches, raised seven 
feet above the ground. ‘The town also contains ten 
places of worslip for Dissenters, and a synagogue for 
the Jews. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


The nave is 144 feet long; the breadth of 


355 


The Free Grammar School, which has énjoyed some 
reptitation as a classical seinitidry, was founded by 
Alcock, Bishop of Ely, in 1436; thé sehool:room - 
one of the best in England. The “ Vitar’s School ” ig 
also a free institution, founded, in 1734, by the 
Rev. W. Mason, the father of Masott the “poet, for 
sixty scholars. There are vatiows other chatity and 
Subscription schools, some of thém on the Laticasteriant 
system. The other public buildings are the Citadél, 
situated on thé éast bank of thé Hall, for the defence 
of the harbours and town :=the Custom House, a 
spacious and handsome buildine ‘=the Exchanee, a 
substantial brick structitre ;—~the Theatre, a large build- 
ine in Humber Street ; ;—the Gaol, a very commodious 
building —and the Subscription Library, which has 
ar) excellent collection of books, with a nuimerous 
body of subscribers. The éatilowue of this valuable 
library is an admirable specimens of bibliographical 
arrangement. The Mechaiics’ Institution has an 
excellent theatre, and theré havé lately bee erectéd a 
fine music-room, museum, and lectui'e-room, under oné 
roof, The Market- place has also been much im- 
proved, and in the centré there is @ fine equestrian 
statue of William III. This part is represented in our | 
wood-cut. About a mile from the town there are 
Botanic Gardens, which aré well furnishéd with séarce’ 
and curious exotic plants. _ 

The manufactures of Hull aré not considerable, and 
are almost limitéd to tlié supply of some of its own 
wants, and those of the shipping which frequent the 
port. The Boundary Commissiotiers say :—** The 
Kast Riding of Yorkshire would be almost entirely 
agricultural,-did not the town of Hull contain thé 
manufactures indispensable to an active séa-port.” 
Its trade is a more extensive subject, and to the facts 
which we have already stated in connection with the his- 
tory of the town, we shall only add here that its fereien 
trade is principally to the’ Baltic and in the whale- 
fishery,-which it has a larger share of than any othe: 
British port. But it also" keeps up a regular traffic to 
the southern parts of Europe, and to the West Indies 
and America. ‘The following statistical details relating 
to the town of Hull are drawn from parliamentary docu- 
ments, and will furnish the most satisfactory informa- 
tion on this point. When a very recent date is not 
mentioned, we are’ not aware that a later return has 
been produced. | 

In 1829, the number of vessels belonging to Hull 
was 979, the burden of which altogether amounted 
to 72,248 tons. Hull early became the rival of London 
in the Greenland whale-fishery, and has now for a long 
period had about two-fifths of the whole business. On 
the average of the years 1810 to 1818, this port em- 
ployed yearly in the fishery 53 vessels, the average 
number from all the British ports being 131, In the 
year 1830, the total number of British” ships engaged 
in the fishery was 91, of which Hull contributed 33: 
and her vessels exited 339 of the total number of 
$71 whales that were canght. Some idea of the 
inland trade of Hull may be obtained from the fact that, 
so long ago as 1792, the value of the merchandize, 
stones , coals, &e. , conveyed to and from Hull by the 
Aire and Calder navie ation alone amounted to no less 
thames, 156,998e - and, judging from this, the whole 
together would not fall much short of 15,000,0002. 
In the year 1831, the number of vessels, British and 
foreign, that entered Hull from foreign parts, was 1714, 
the lol of which amounted to 262 935 ‘antes : ait 
was much exceeded by London and Liverpool, but. no 
other port attained half the amount either of ships or 
tonnage. Another criterion of the relative tmportance 
of the port is afforded by the amount of the duties 
collected. A recent parliamenfary paper thus states 
; the amount collected at the principal wi - the year 





356 


1833 :—London, 8,692,898/.; Liverpool, 3,733,1322. ; 
Bristol, 1,083,323/.; Dublin, 654,754/.; ILull, 624,057. 
In the year 1701, the amount of the customs at Hull 
was 26,287/.; in 1778, '78,299/.; in 1802, 438,4591. ; 
and in 1810, 311,7804. 

The town first sent’ members to parliament in the 
thirty-third year of the reien of Edward I. ; but regular 
returns have only, been made since the twelfth of 
Edward If. Until the limits of.the borough were 
extended’ by. the operation of the Reform Bill, the 
elective franchise was limited to the parish of St. Mary 
—the portion of the town surrounded by water in the 
manner we have already stated. The right of voting 
was vested in the burgesses and freemen, and the 
greatest number of voters polled at any election within 
the last thirty years was 2299, in the year 1826. ‘The 
Reform. Bill has greatly increased the extent of the 


borough, and-proportionately multiplied the number of 


electors. The population of the old borough was 
15,996, while that of the town was not less than 46,426. 
The population of the present borough is 49,727. The 
annual value of the real property assessed in Hull, 
in 1831, was 112,814/. The area of the town, ex- 
clusive of Sculcoates and other important suburbs, 
was, in 1831], 960 acres; and that of the county of 
the town 10,640. ‘The uumber of inhabited houses 
was 8,726; 174 were building, and 777 were un- 
inhabited. .The number of families was 11,510: of 
which 49 were employed chiefly in agriculture; 4,476 
in trade; manufactures, and handicraft ; and 7,012 were 
not comprised in either of the two preceding classes. 
The popnlation exhibits the disproportion of the sexes 
usual in sea-port. towns, the females being 25,687, and 
the males 20,739. Sculcoates is included in such 
parts of this statement as refer to income and popula- 
tion. 


DOMENICHINO. 


Domentcuino is the name by which artists distinguish 
a very eminent Lombard painter, whose real name was 
Domenico Zampieri. He was the son of a shoemaker, 
and was born at Bologna in the year 1581. He com- 
menced his studies in painting under Dionigi Calvart, 
who soon sent his pupil home with a blow on the head, 
becanse le one day canght him copying some prints 
from the works of Augustin Ceracci. Perhaps this 
circumstance, recommended hii to the notice of Au- 
gustin and his cousin Annibal, for we ‘next find 
Domenichino one of their pupils. : His fellow-students 
do not appear to have held'his talents in’ much esteem. 
He worked with so much apparent indecision and 
difficulty, and his operations were so slow, that they 
hnick-named him the ‘* Ox.” Annibal Caracci, however, 
saw much deeper into his pupil, and foretold that the 
“Ox would one, day render fruitful the field he 
ploughed.” Domenichino was of a retired and gentle 
character, entirely devoted to his art; and during no 
period of his life mingled mnch in society. Whenever 
he left’ the honse it was to go to the markets and 
the theatres, in order to study the figures and coun- 
tenances of the people, and to observe how Nature 
herself painted the passions and the feelings. Whatever 
struck lis attention strongly he was accustomed to 
sketch on the spot. “‘It was thus,” says Bellori, 
‘that Zampieri -accustomed himself to design the 
cinds of men and to colour life.” 
During his pupilage with the Caracci at Bologna 
Domenichino formed a most intimate attachment with 
Albano, who was one of his fellow-students, and whose 
friendship in after times was one sweetening circum- 
stance in a life embittered by many ennmities and 
troubles. After having visited Parnia, Domenichino 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[SepremBer 13. 


stance that his friend Albano had removed thither as 
by any other inducement. His master, Annibal Ca- 
racci, Who had acquired great influence over him, also 
proceeded to Rome, upon the invitation of Cardinal 
I’arnese, and still continued to afford him instruétion. 
No sooner had Zampieri began to attract attention by 
his talents, than Lanfranc, another pupil of Annibal, 
declared war against him; thus commencing the system 
of hostility which was taken up and carried on by others, 
and which sometimes obliged the unhappy painter to 
prepare all his owu victuals, for fear of poison, by which, 
after all, there is reason to conclude that the life of this 
modest and inoffensive man was terminated. ‘On the 
preseut occasion his friend Albano secured powerful 
protection for him; bnt, disgusted with the unjust and 
indecent attacks of which he was the object, he re- 
linquished the pencil and devoted himself to sculpture. 
We possess no account which enables us to understand 
well the cause of the unworthy treatment to which he 
was at all times and in all places exposed; but it is 
greatly to be lamented that those whose pursuits onght 
to teach them the value of tolerance and charity, have 
been, and too often still are, the most remarkable for 
the intensity of their prejudices and hatred. Annibal 
Caracci, however, induced Domenichino to resume _ his 
pencil in order to paint a picture in express and de- 
clared rivalry with Guido. ‘They painted the same 
subject (‘The Martyrdom of St. Andrew’) on opposite 
panels; and the preference has very generally been 
given to the work of Domenichino. On this occasion 
Annibal said that the fresco of Guido was that of a 
master, and that of Zampieri of a scholar, adding, 
however, that the scholar excelled the master. By this 
he was understood to say that Guido, who had nothing 
more to acquire, had been surpassed by one who might 
still much improve by further study. 7 

The history of a painter is seldom much more than 
the history of his works. Those of Domenichino we 
cannot mention in detail, but shall proceed briefly to 
characterize his style, after having mentioned that he 
remained long enough at Rome to paint several of his 
most capital works; and that then the vexation and 
alarm in which he lived induced him to withdraw to 
his native city, where he. married, and employed 
himself two years on his famous picture of the Rosary. 
He was afterwards recalled to Rome by ‘the pope, 
Gregory XV., who appointed him his principal. painter, 
and architect of the Vatican. ‘The déath of the pontiff 
deprived him of these appointments, and he accepted 
an invitation to Naples to paint the chapel of St. 
Jannarius. But at Naples the Greek painter Corenzio 
ruled “the realms of art ” with the most tyrannic sway, 
and Domenichino suffered so much insult and mortifica- 
tion from him in jus new undertaking, that he renounced 
it in despair and fled to Rome. He found it, however, 
necessary to return to Naples, and complete his work ; 
and he received, as its compensation, the liberty of his 
wife -and children, who had been imprisoned there. 
He died soon after, in the year 1641, at the age of 
sixty, and-not without strong suspicion that he had 
been poisoned. | , 

Of the varions excellent artists which issned from the 
school of the Caracci, none occupy so high a place as 
Domenichino. Many concur with Ponssin in thinking 
him second to Raphael only, and there are none who 
place any except Raphael, Correge¢io, and Titian before 
him. ‘He had a most bold and masterly pencil. It 
was customary with’ lim to work up in his mind the 
actual feeling of the passion he intended to depict; so 
that, while studying by himself, he was often heard to 
laugh, weep, and talk aloud, in a manner which might 
have led’a stranger to conclude that he was nad, if he 
had ‘seen him under the influenee of these artificial 


was probably drawn to Rome as much by the circum | paroxysnis. ‘The expression of violent passions wus, 


1834.] THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 357 


indeed, his favourite object. While he was engaged in 

painting the martyrdom of St. Andrew, and about to 

represent the rage of a soldier, Annibal Caracci called 

unexpectedly to see him, and he was in the habit of 

declaring afterwards that he received more instruction 

on that occasion from the sight of his extraordinary | fierce and stormy passions, or the trials of fortitude 
| 


: 


pupil than he had ever obtained from any picture. He 
painted generally in fresco, and somewhat in a theatrical 
style, from the architecture with which he used to ac- 
company his subjects, and in which he particularly 
excelled. On most occasions he chose te represent the 











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which rouse the strongest energies of man. There is 
seldom any obscurity in his subjects; the figures speak 
their purpose with an expression, dignity, and. force, 
which renders the intention remarkably intelligible. 

The painting represented in onr wood-cut Is generally 
allowed to be a work of Domenichino, although the 
fact has sometimes been questioned. It represents 
Aineas preparing to carry off his aged father Anchises 
from the burning city of Troy, accompanied by his own 
wife Creusa, and his son Ascanius. ‘This subject has 
been represented with various success by Raphael, the 
Caracci, Sebastian Ricci, and others. In the present 
picture, the family of Afineas, brought together by the 
common calamity, form a single group in front of their 
house. Anchises, enfeebled by age and sorrow, has 
just seated himself on the shoulders of his son, which 
are covered with the skin of a lion; and receives from 
the hands of the sorrowful Creusa, who stands on the 
steps of the portico, the exiled gods of his house. The 
young Ascanius with one hand presses affectionately 
the hand of his father,. and with the other seems to 
indicate, by the divine inspiration, *‘ the obscure way ” 
which their protecting goddess willed them to take. 
The composition of this fine group, and the truth and 
vivacity of the expressions exhibited, are equally admi- 
rable. The looks of Aineas directed towards his father, 
his wife, and his vods,—the deep dejection of the old 
man—the emotion of the boy—and the noble head of 
Creusa—claim especial notice; but, indeed, there is 
nothing in the whole composition, design, or expression, 
unworthy of the great name of Domenichino 

The picture was bonght by the Marshal de Créqui, 
the French ambassador at Rome, while Domenichino 
was still alive and struggling with his misfortunes at 
Naples. The man who sold it, im order to obtain a 
higher price, said it was a work of Louis Caracci. 
After the death of the marshal the painting was bought 
by Cardinal Richelieu, who bequeathed it to Louis XIEL., 
since which it has remained a part of the royal or na- 
tional collection. Our wood-cnt is taken from the 
‘ Musdée Frangais,’ from which alse’the above account 
of the picture is drawn. 








High Lights——Speaking of philosophers who write laws 
for imaginary commonwealths, Bacon says,—‘* Their dis-- 
courses are as the stars, which give little hight because they 
are so high.” This admits of a more extensive application. 


Iurst Use of the Gallows in the Sandwich Fslands.— 
Among the proofs of advancing civilization in the Sandwich 
Islands the erection of a temporary gallows may be men- 
tioned. The oceasion is worth relating. The erime of 
murder was committed by two of the natives on the person 
of a Spaniard, and merely for the sake of the clothes he 
wore. They were taken immediately after, and confined 
to the fort, whence one of them contrived to escape. They 
were at first at a loss how to deal with the remaining 
culprit, but were persuaded by the consuls and the missionary 
to proceed according to European law. A gallows was in 
the first mstance constructed. It consisted cf a rope ex- 
tended from one cocoa-nut tree fo another, cighteen fect 
from the ground, and to the centre was attached a block, 
through which was run the halter by which the criminal 
was to be drawn up by the natives. The man was brought 
to trial under this gallows, where the chiefs and native mis- 


sionaries Were assembled. While these were deliberating, | 


and doubtmg the propriety of hanging him, the natives, 
anxious perhaps to witness so novel a spectacle, put the 
noose over his head, and saved the judges all further trowble 
on this subject by running him up. Some time after this, 
his accomplice, thinking that ali was forgotten, ventured to 
return from his plaee of concealment to hisown home. He 
was, however, apprehended, and again confined in the fort, 
where he remained during our stay. As the chiefs cannot 
be made to understand why two men should suffer for the 
murder of one, if seemed very probable that this man would 
ultimately be set at liberty —27S, Journal of a Voyage, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


his fame have hitherto penetrated. 


[Serremeper 13, 


A CHINES# POEM. 
Tue Chinese take a passionate delight in their poetry, 
such as it is. ‘Vo describe it would be a labonr of some 
leneth, and foreign’ to our present object, which is 
merely to present to our readers a curious specimen, 
and to show them how a native of China judges and 
speaks of London. 

The Chinese have poems on almost every possible 
subject. Jtistory, chronology, moral maxims, the laws 
and precepts of Confucius, agriculture, gardening, 
and all the peaceful arts, are conveyed and impressed 
on the memory through the medium of poetry. In 
their more refined society not to be a poet is, not to 
be a gentleman; and the love, if not the practice, of 
the poetical art descends to all grades and conditions. 

It is a pleasing fact, that at the moment we are 
introducing a Chinese* poet and his description of 
London to our readers here, some of the stereotyped 
plates of our ‘ Penny Magazine’ are on their way to 
China, and will soon be introduced and circulated there / 
Arrangements have been made to publish a cheap 


periodical work at Canton, and our plates, which by 


the improvements of modern art can be multiplied 
almost ad infinitum, and without any deterioration of 
their quality, are to be used for the embellishment of 
that work. ‘FPhus the prints, which now circulate by the 
banks of the Thames, the Clyde, the Shannon, and the 
St. Lawrence, will also engage attention on the shores 
of the Chinese sea, on the banks of the Pei-ho, and the 
erand canal which traverses the empire to the length 
of 1800 miles! Putting aside our own feelings of self- 
satisfaction in having contributed to this end, we 
cannot but think that there is something consoling and 
creat in this fact. It is a step towards bringing the 
people of the remote ends of, the earth together, and 
ceiving at once unprecedented extension and durability 
to the conceptions and works of European artists. By 
these means a new world may be opened to departed 
and living genius. A Raphael may shine with a bright 
though necessarily diminished splendour, im immense 
empires where not a ray of his genius or a ghmmer of 
And may we not 
be allowed to hope that the Chinese, whose manual 
dexterity as painters, and industry and fidelity as copy- 
ists, are very remarkable; may gradually elevate their 
taste, and correct their nctions of drawing and com- 
position, by studying and imitating our carefuily- 
selected engravings? We cannot, itis true, give them 
the charm of colouring and the graces of high finish, 
but these are not the lessons they most want. How- 
ever much or little they may profit by the important 
parts of graphic instruction that ean be conveyed in 
wood-cuts, one thing is certain,—it is this :—with their 


strong predilection for copying and multiplying the 


works of art that are conveyed to them from Enrope, 
the Chinese will not fail to decorate the interior of 
their houses with imitations of some of the more striking 
productions of the great masters that we have given 
and shall give them. Bunt onr love of art, and anxiety 


for its diffusion, are leading us astray from our present 
business with poetry. 


For the Chinese specimen we s.iall now proceed to 


‘give we are indebted to Johm Francis Davis, Esq., 


who introduced it im am imteresting paper, ‘ On the 
Poetry of the Chinese,’ which he published in the 
second volume ef the ‘° Transactions of the Royal 
Asiatie Society.’ | 

Mr. Davis informs us that the poem was written by 
a Chinese of -good acquirements and respectable station 
in hfe, who accompanied an English gentleman from 
the East to London, about the year 1813. In 1817 
the “Quarterly Review’ eave a short notice of tlis 
curious production, ** of a native of the remotest shores 


lof Asia who sings the glories of the British capital,” 


1834.] 


but Mr. Davis was the first to give us the whole of the 
poem translated, and accompanied by the original 
Chinese text. “ Being a simple description, the poem,” 
says Mr. Davis, “ contains but few flights of faucy ; 
aml as it would be a hopeless attempt, however well 
they may sound in Chinese, to give dignity in verse to 
matters so perfectly domestic and familiar to ourselves, 
it has been judged best to give a literal prose transla- 
tion.” 

The Chinese title is, ‘ London, in Ten Stanzas.’ The 
stanzas of the poem are regularly constructed, and all 
of the same form and length. We now beg attention 
to the English version, in which we have put some of 
the more curious passages in italics. ‘The mistakes, 
the false deductions, and the Eastern hyperboles of the 
traveller, will not be found the least amusing parts of 


his description :— 
I, 
Avar in the ocean, towards the extremities of the north-west, . 
There is a nation, or country, called England : 
The clime is frigid, and you are compelled to approach the fire, 
The houses are so lofty that you may pluck the stars: 
The pious inhabitants respect the ceremonies of worship, 
And the virtuous among them ever read the sacred books : 
They bear a peculiar eumity towards the French nation, 
The weapons of war rest not for a moment (between them). 


II. 

Their fertile hills, adorned with the richest luxuriance, 

Resemble, in the outline of their summits, the arched eye-brows (of 
a fair woman): 

The inhabitants are inspired with a respect for the female sex, 

Who in this land correspond with the perfeet features of nature : 

Their young maidens have cheeks resembling red blossoms, 

And the complexion of their beauties is like the white gem: 

Of old has connubial affection been highly esteemed among them, 

Husband and wife delighting in mutual harmony. 


III. 

In the summer evenings, through the hamlets and gardens beyond 

the town, 
Crowds of walkers ramble without number : 
The grass is allowed to grow as a provision for horses, 
And enclosures of wooden rails form pastures for cattle, 
The harvest is gathered in with the singing of songs: 
The loiterers roam in search of flowers without end, 
And call to each other to return in goad trme, 
Lest the foggy clouds bewilder and detain them 

= IV. 

(This verse is merely descriptive of our theatres, It mentions 
that they are closed during the day and opened after dark, This 
struck the author, as in China theatrical amusements take place 
by daylight.) 

v. 
The two banks of the river lie to the north and south; 
Three bridges interrupt the stream, and form a communication ; 
Vessels of every hind pass between the arches, 
Vhile men and horses pace among the clouds : 
A thousand masses of stone rise one above the other, 
And the river flows through nine channels: 
The bridge of Loyang, which out-tops all in our empire, 
Is in shape and size somewhat hike these. 
VI. 

It is a rich, populous, and highly-adorned land; 
Its workmen vie with each other in the excellence of their manu- 

factures. 
Within the circuit of the imperial residence is a splendid palace: 
Lofty trees are immingled with unnumbered dwellings. 
The young gentry ride in wheel-carriages and on horseback, 
And the fair women clothe themselves in silken garments, 

2 *& % * xe 

x * ue % 
Vit. 


The towering edifices rise story above story, 

In all the stateliness of splendid mansions: 

Railings of tron thickly stud the sides of every entrance, 

And streams from the river circulate through the walls: 

The sides of each apartment are variegated with devices ; 
Through the windows of glass appear the scarlet hangings: 
And in the street itself is presented a beautiful scene, 

The congregated bnildings having all the aspect of a picture, 


VILL. 
Jn London, about the period of the ninth moon, 
The inhabitants delight in travelling to a distance; 
They change their abodes, and betake themselves to the country, 
Visiting their friends im their rural retreats : 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


359 


The prolonged sound of carriages and steeds is heard through the 
day : 
Then in autumn the prices of provisions fall: 
And the greater number of buildings being untenanted, 
Such as reyuire It are repaired and adorned, 
IX. ; 


The spacious streets are exceedingly smooth and level, 
Kach being crossed by others at intervals: 
On either side perambulate men and women, 
In the centre career alung the carriages and horses : 
Lhe minvled sound of voices is heard in the shops at evening, 
During mid-winter the heaped-up snows adhere to the pathway ; 
Lamps are displayed al niyht along the street sides, 
Hyhose radiance twinkles like the stars of the sky, 

sue 
The climate 1s too cold for the cultivation of rice, 
But they have for ages been exempt from the evils of famine: 
With strong tea they ummingle rich cream, 
And their baked wheaten bread is involved in unctuous lard, 
Here excellent meats are served in covers of silver, 
And fine wines are poured into gem-hke cups : 
The custom of the country pays respect to the ceremony of meals, 
Previous to the repast they make a change in their vestments ! 

Such is the Chinese description of our great metro 
polis. The translator observes :—‘* His remarks are, 
as might be expected, confined exclusively to things 
which at once strike the eye, and they do not extend to 
the remoter points of intelligent investigation, since the 
author’s very limited knowledge of our language, and 
total inability to comprehend the nature of our institu- 
tions, placed such higher objects entirely out of his 
reach,” 

Ought not the errors into which he falls be a warning 
to Knglish and other travellers, who, as ignorant of the 
language and institutions of China as this Chinese was 
of those of England, not only venture to describe what 
they see, but to give an account of the manners, cus- 
toms, laws, religion, and moral character of the myste- 
rious subjects of the Celestial Empire? 

From the things so highly extolled in certain pas- 
sages of the poem, we may conclude that the same 
kinds of things are very inferior or altogether wanting 
in China. An Italian, a Frenchman, a German, a 
native of Edinburgh, would certainly not be struck 
with the great elevation of our London houses; but 
the Chinese says, they “are so lofty that you may 
pluck the stars,’—because dwelling-houses in China 
are very low. ‘This fact and others are confirmed 
by every European traveller in the Celestial Empire. 
The manner in which the poet describes the bridges 
across the Thames, (before the Southwark, the Water- 
loo, and the New London were in existence,) leads us 
to suspect that the Jesuit Missionaries must have been 
cuilty of exaggeration in their descriptions of the splen- 
did and lofty marble bridges of China. Again, from the 
mode in which he speaks of our convenient pavements, 
or foot-paths, with horses and carriages running along 
between them im the middle of our crowded streets, we 
must be disposed to credit those who tell us that such 
conveniences are unknown in Chinese cities. In this 
last respect many of the countries of continental Europe 
are as badly provided as China. The regular stay-at- 
home Englishman loses the sense of half of the advan- 
taves he enjoys from his constant familiarity with then: 
It will be difficult to: make a Londoner feel the full 
value of the sinooth, neatly paved pathways over which 
he walks every day, and has walked every day ever 
since he could, walk at all. And yet, taken collec- 
tively, the pavements of our capital are an astonishingly 
ereat work,—one of the greatest and best, indeed, ever 
executed by human industry, if we consider the uses to 
which it is applied, and the comfort it affords to the 
oreat body of the people. 

We hope the poetical diction of our Chinese, who 
says that streams from the river circulate through the 
walls of our houses, will not render obscure the simple 

| meaning, which is, that our dwellings are plentifully 


$60 


supplied with water through pipes laid on by the Thames 
Water-Works, the New River, and other companies. 
This is another inestimable advantage which not the 
Chinese only, but many other nations, do not possess 
in equal ‘perfection with - ourselves, and which we 
too often .overlook because we of the present ceene- 
ration have always been in possession of it. Fully to 
appreciate it, let the rich man -think ‘of the inconve- 
nience’ of buying water by the-barrel, and the poor 
man of the more serious: annoyance of cong himself 
to the nearest‘ river, or well, or fountain, to procure the 
fluid indispensable to cleanliness, comfort, and the 
cooking of his meals. Such was once the case i 
London and such it still is in many parts of the world 
calling themselves civilized. 

In .1813, when the Chinese poet was here, the 
streets of London were lighted with train oil: could 
he return in these brilliant nights of gas-light, he 
could not ‘be, accused of poetical exaggeration in 
describing the lamps as twinkling like the stars of the 
sky ; .—the lamps put out the stars. “In speaking of the 
habits and moral character of the English, he mentions 
their frequent reading .of the Bible, ‘and gives them 
credit for ‘their connubial affection aud respect for the 
female sex. ‘The last point, which is the truest test of 
civilization, must have ‘struck him forcibly; for in 
China, as in other countries of the East (almost with- 
out exception); women are treated like inferior beings. 
They are sold to the highest bidder. ‘Lheir husbands 
purchase them from their pareiits, and, as polygamy is 
recognised by the ‘law, the richer have generally two, 
three, or more wives, who are all sent to occupy the 
same apartment, separated from that of the: men. They 
are neither allowed to eat at the same table nor to sit 
in the ‘same room with their: husbands. - Under such 
a domestic system, the deference and respect we pay to 
the.sex ‘cannot possibly exist, and the greatest charm 
cf society must be altogether unknown. 

In:the same paper of the ‘ Transactions of the 
Asiatic Society,’ in which Mr. Davis ‘introduces this 
poem on-Europe, written by one who had seen us at 
home, he gives a slight sketch of another Chinese 
poem, written by one who had never: left his own 
couutry,;and who judged of us by the specimens of 
Englishmen, Frenchmen, Portuguese, &c., that he had 
known, in the way of trade, at Canton. ‘Vhe author of 
this latter production, which is + a eee a 
Stanzas on- Europeans,’ was 
member of an appointed - uivilegel body which, ac- 
cording to law, has the exclusive right of dealing with 





the Christians at Canton. He says, that afier all 
intercourse of. thirty years with the foreigners, he 
ought to know something of their peculiarities. Re- 





lying on his ‘knowledge, “he states that—* They (the 
Huropeans) make use of no formality in their most 
extensive - bargains more solemn than a mere shake 
of the hand. But, ” says the self-satisfied Chinese in 
the next verse, ‘ the simple virtues of barbarians have 
been the subject of praise from the oldest times.” 
Though he measures us by his own country’s standard, 
and calls*us barbarians, the old Hong tea-broker is 


evidently. not disposed in‘ his own mind to treat us with’ 


severity.. 

He informs his countrymen, for the enlightenment 
of whose ignorance the poem -was produced, that, 
amoug the foreigners, when a guest arrives, the host: 
helps him with his own hand to the juice of the grape, 
—that they welcome visitors with wine, aud not with 
tea, as is the fashion of the Chinese,—that they consider 
touching glasses in drinking. as a token of: friendship, 
—that in winter evenings “they sit by the fire and 
swallow cold wine, heedless ‘of the snows which lie deep 
beyond the door, (the Chinese, we must remark, always 
warm their wine,)—that on the first day of their year 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. [SepremBer 18, 1834, 
they powder their heads with white dust, and all vet 
tipsy, though of late years this habit has worn out,— 
that they make heht of their -ives, for when two of 
them quarrel, they stand face to face, and discharge 
fire-arms at each other on a given sie@nal, in order to 
show that they are not afraid, and so forth —and finally, 
that their different nations have been fighting together 
for some twenty years, though now it is to be hoped 
that they will soon make peace with one another, and 
have all an opportunity of improving themselves by 
intercourse with the more -civilized Chinese! - 
poem was written during the last war.) 

The author is much puzzled to account for the com- — 
parative late marriages of Europeans,—but at last he 
hits upon the reason. He says, their distant voyages 
keep them long abroad, and that they never return 
home and take a wife until they are grown rich. 
** Many,” he adds, *‘ do not marry before fifty years 
of age; and if the bride be very young on these occa- 
sions, it is no scandal.” 

To enter into our Hong poet’s wonderment on this 
head, our readers must remember that, in China, where 
everything is legislated for, and nothing left to indivi- 
dual liberty or inclination, the laws direct every mau to 
take a wife, and at the time fixed for him he takes one. 


| Appeara: ances.—Many false things have more appearance 
hie tr uth than things that be most true.—Zatimer. 





- 


Knowledge.—Knowledge may not be as a courtezan, for 
pleasure and vanity only; or as a bondwoman, to acquire 
and gain for her master’s use ; but as a spouse, for genera- 
tion, fruit, and comfort —Bacon. 

Ey ery branch of knowledge which a good man possesses 
he may apply to some en puns C’. Buchanan. 





Eisquimaux near Cape Lisburn.—The men exhibited 
their skill in archery, which, however, did not equal what 
we had been prepared to expect: they excelled more in 
slinging stones, with which they would frequently lit a 
bird on the wing.” Another method, however, was practised 
in catching birds. This was by means of a number of ivory 
balls, each attached to a piece of string about six inches in 
length, the ends of which are all tied together. This 
missile is whirled round until the balls geta rapid circular 
motion, and is then launched forth at the birds, which’ get 
entangled among the.lines. From the surprise they testi- 
fied at the deadly effects of the fowling-picce, it appeared 
that they were previously unacquainted with it. The first 

shot unfortunately missed, and they were quite at a loss to 
account for the apparently useless noise, or for the cause 
which produced it, and which they natur ally enough looked 
for in the, barrel of the piece. At the second shot the bird 
fell, and they appeared equally pleased and surprised, 
uttering an universal shout of “ kee!” We were also 
treated with the native dance, which displayed little activity, 
and eonsisted more in motions of the hands than of the feet ; 
the latter were kept close together, taking occasional J jumps, 
while with the arms a continual swinging motion was maln- 
tained. Their small cyes being generally closed during the 
dance; gave them a most sheepish look. ‘The vocal music to 
which they danced was accompanied by a tambourine of sono- 
rous tones, beaten on the rim with a stick. * * * We had 
before observed’the badness of their teeth, which weré worn 
down, especially in the women, nearly to the gums; and we 
now learnt that this was occasioned by their chewing the 
skins. This is the method by which they dress them; and, 
with some ‘exertion of the jaws, the process is certainly as 
well, though not so conveniently, performed as by English 
eurriers.—AfS. Journat ofa Voyage. 





can “The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
59, Linceln’s Jun Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 


Printed by Winu1am CLowes, Duke Street, Lambeth. 


PHE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 
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862 


ROMAN PIAZZE, OR SQUARES. 


In Rome, where most of the streefs are harrow and 
crooked, the number and size of ‘the ‘open: ‘sqhares 
“produce a most agreeablé éffecf. These squares are 
renerally adorned “with ‘ancieiit Eegyptian obelisks, or 
splendid fountains, -and in ‘some. cases--with both. 
Several of the -finest of modern churches and palaces 
are situated on these free spaces, while others contain 
ancient temples, columns; ald majestic ruins.: Indeed 
there is scarcely one of the Roman piazze but offers 
some beautiful or otherwise interesting object; either 
ancient or: modern, to the adniiration of the spectator. 

The Piazza del Popolo, or “ Square ofthe People,” 
represented in our engraving, is the first seen: by the 
traveller arriving from the north, and though far inferior 
in architectur al “and antique treasures to several others, 
it is well entitled to attention. Having the advantage 
of seine the first Seen by our countrymen; itis generally 
fou ud fo. have made a deep and lasting impression on 
them: it may; indeed, be almost called the: great 
entrance into Rome; and is the point whence the im- 
patient eye is first delighted by a vast intérior view of 
the étérmial, city. 

After driving over part of the ancient Campus Mar- 
tius; through A long avenue of high walls, which pre- 
vent the straheer from seeing inch of that scene of 
the military training and exercises of the old Romans, 
he reaches the Porta del Popolo, or ‘* Gate of the 
People,” which Stands upon or near to the site of the 
celeb? tated Flaminian ate, which.was the ereat northern 
entrance of old Rome. The modern rate, though in 
part 1 the work of the ereat Michael Angelo, i ig. rather 
deféctive and mean. Tlie principal defect afose from 
thé circumstance, that four ancient columns; of insuffi- 
ciefit size for the elevation required, were assiened to 
him for its décoration. ‘'Thé smallness of these colurnns 

obliged him to raise the other members of the order 
beyond théir due proportion, and the whole terminated 
in a. deficiency. of erandeur. ki, But this,” says Forsyth, 
““ will ever happen, where the design, instead of com- 
manding; is made subject to the materials.” After 
passing the Porta del Popolo, the stranger soon finds 
himself driving across a fine spacious square. An 
Egyptian obelisk said’ up nobly in the centre,—in a 
line from it, the great street called the Corsoy a mile 
long: from thé square to the foot of the Capitol, flanked 
én either side by a church, opens a direct road into the 
heart of the city, —palaces. aud churches present them- 
selves on evéry side, —the “ vast, the woudrous dome ” 
of St. Peter’s is seen to the Helit, and on the left the 
steep acclivity of the Pincian Hill, in part cut into orna- 
mented terraces, rises from the Pidzaa del Popolo. 

Our view. is takén from the Pincian Hill. 
terracés, the statues, and the tostra; that form the fore- 
ground “Of. ihe, picttife, dre all modern, and, in part, 
recent works, “The square itself. has undergone many 
improvements of late years. ‘The most couspicuous 
and interesting objéct in it is the obelisk; whicli is one 
of twélve of those extraordinary masses of oranite cut 
by the Egyptians; brought to Rome by different em- 
perors from Augustus down to Coiistantine, overturned 
and buried in.the barbarous ages; but recovered and 
set up for the embellishment of the modern city by 
different popes: The héight of the ancient shaft of the 
obelisk i in the Piazza del Popolo is about 752 feet, but 
unfortunately it is not entire,—it has been brokeii in 
three pieces. Its whole height, with the modern base 
and substructure, is about 116-feet. Its sides are 
covered with. hieroglyphics that are partially injured 
or defaced: it was erected where it now stands in the 
year 1589, _ by order of Sixtus V., who was the first of 
the popes. {6 pive attention to these magnificent relics 
of antiquity. Before erecting this.one in the Piazza 
del Popolo; he had set three other obelisks upright on 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘Heaven to prosper them in their undertaking. 


The 


‘hearty and robust, and twenty men. 


{SEPTEMBER 20, 
bases in different parts of Rome,—viz., one in front of 
the church of St. Peter, in 1586, (of which a view is 
given in No. 108 of the ‘ Penny Maeazine ;) another 
in front of .the church-of Santa Maria Maggiore, in 
1587; and the third in the square of San Giovanni 
Laterahentst} in 1588. | 

The author of * Rome in the Nineteenth Century,’ 
and several others who have written on the subject 
without a proper examination of the objects and their 
history, have strangely confused the obelisk in the 
Piazza del Popolo sometimes with that in front of St. 
Peter's, and sometimes with that erected by Augustus 
in the Campus Martius, and removed thence to Monte 
Citorio in 1792. ‘The author of the book just men- 
tioned has applied the description of the difficulties 
encountered in raising the obelisk in front of St. Peter’s 
(a much larger shaft in one entire, unbroken piece, and 
the first that: was raised) to the elevation of this smaller 
column, which, as we have mentioned, and as is dis- 
tinctly stated by the architect employed in the work, 
was broken -into three pieces, and consequently in- 
finitely more easy to move and set up., As we recently 
gave an account of the facility with which a small party 
of Frenchmen removed an obelisk ftom Luxor to Paris, 
it may amusé our readers to show them what a tre- 
mendous task,—€éven when a host of men and horses 


was employed,—the raising of a obelisk at Rome was 


considered in the sixteenth century. 

The height of the ancient, shaft of the obelisk, which 
now stands if front of St. Petér’s, is $3 feet 2 4 inches *. 
When Sixtus-V. decided upon erecting’ it, men stood 
aghast at the dangers and toils of xaising so enormous 
a mass of heavy stone, dnd two or three years elapsed 
in preparation before the work could be performed. 
The Papal cow't consulted men of science all ‘over 
Europe, and numerous plans from architects, engineers, 
and mathematicians, were sent to Rome from all quar- 
ters. At last the blah of Domenico Fontana, one of 
the successors of Michael Angelo in the works of me 
Peter’ s, was accepted and acted upon. 

‘The day on which the obelisk was to be raised was 
ushered i in with great solemnity. High mass was cele- 
brated at St. Peter's, and the architect and workmen 
received the benediction of the Pope, who implored 
Ata 
given sign engines were set in motion by an incredible 
number of men and horses, but not until fifty-two 
unsuccessful efforts had been made did the michty 
mass rise‘ from earth and swing in air. ‘The noment 
it was set. upright the thousands gathered to witness 
the spectacle shouted aloud, the cannons roared from 
thé castle of St. Angelo, and the church bells began to 
ring all over the city. 

According o to an old local historian, the raising of this 
obelisk cost 36,975 Roman crowns; and another old 
writer says, the work “‘ was terminated in the short 
space of one year, in 1586.” The writer last alluded 
to describes the machinery and methods employed 
by Fontana, and also gives an engraving. ‘The en- 
craving is scarcely intelligible, but we see in it a 
resemblance to the ‘ “large beams of wood planted 
upri¢ht, and: looking like a forest of machinery,” and 
‘““the long, thick ropes veiling the sky with a kind of 
close netting,” mentioned by Ammianus Marcellinus in 
describing the erection of an obelisk at Rome in the 


.time of Constantius, the son of Constantine the Great. 


The historian of -Fontana’s exploit says,—* In raising 
the obelisk before St. Peter’s there were forty argani 
(capstans), to each of which were put four horses, 
So that ther 
were 160 horses, atid 800 men, for the said argani 
alone ; besides many more men occupied by divers 


& With its base, its modern ornaments at top, cross, &c., if mea- 


| sures 132 feet. 


1934.] 


other offices, as standing round about the machinery 
and ‘working above it. 
machine, which looked like a castle, there was a trum- 
peter, and also a large bell. And the trumpeter, 
immediately on a sign being made to him by the Capo 
Mastro, or architect, blew his trumpet, and then all the 
capstans were worked towether by the men and horses ; 
and when they were to stop, the bell was rung. In this 
manner the orders were understood, and all passed off 
well; whereas if the human voice had been employed 
to give the word of command, it would not have been 
possible to avoid disorder, for the noise was like that of 
thunder or an earthquake, so great were the creaking, 
groaning, and convulsion of all the machinery, by rea- 
son of so heavy a bulk as the obelisk *.” 

The same machinery, reduced in force and magni- 
tude, we are informed, served Fontana for the setting 
up of the obelisk at Santa Maria Maggiore, of that at 
‘San Giovanni Lateranense, and of the one in the Piazza 
del Popolo; and we are expressly told by the architect’s 
biographers that, after his first great task with the 
‘obelisk in the front of St. Peter’ s, he found the erection of 
the other three comparatively easy work, for they were 


all broken, and thé fragments were raised and adjusted f 


‘one after the other. 
_ As it now stands with its parts united, the obelisk 
in the Piazza del -Popolo is, in’ size, next to the obe- 
lisks before the churches of St. Peter and St. John 
Lateran, being higher than the other nine Roman obe- 
lisks now erect. ‘The sides of the stone are of unequal 
width; those on the north and south, which correspond, 
are seven feet ten inches at the base, and four feet ten 
inches at the summit. ‘The other two sides or faces of 
the obelisk, at the same positions respectively, are, at 
the base, six feet eleven inches, and at top four feet 
one inch. The northern face of this obelisk has been 
much injured by fire. Some local writers have settled 
to their satisfaction that this injury was sustained during 
Nero's burning of Rome. It may, or it may not have 
been so, for Rome has been the scene of many a con- 
nog ration since then. A much better established fact 
;, that the obelisk in the Piazza del Popolo is one of 
lle that the Emperor Augustus caused to be trans- 
ported from Egypt to Rome, and erected in the Great 
Circus. 
tian king, during whose reign the philosopher Pytha- 
goras visited Egypt. This would give the shaft an 
antiquity of more than twenty-three centuries. ‘heir 
age, the mysterious country of their origin, the history 
of their importation into Europe by the conquerors of 
old Rome, their overthrow by the barbarous invaders 
of the empire, their re-erection by the popes of modern 
Rome, the innumerable vicissitudes and tragical changes 
that have occurred since they were first placed erect in 
the Circus Maximus, the Campus Martius, or similar 
spots of renown, all tend to give great interest to these 
obelisks, which are grand and imposing objects in them- 
selves, and which, moreover, are seen in no other city 
in Europe. At Constantinople, indeed, there is one- 
which produces but little effect in the large square of 
the Hippodrome, and in presence of the - towering 


minarets of Sultan Achmet’s mosque, and there will, 


now he another erected at Paris; but these solitary 
specimens are as “nothing compared with the obelisk 
wealth of Rome. 

We recommend to such of our readers as may be 
curious to ascertain the history and objects of Egyptian 
Obelisks, the first volume of ‘ Egyptian Antiquities,’ 
sublished 3 in the * Library of Entertaining Knowledge.’ 
We are not aware of the existence of any account of 
these works of ancient art which is at once so complete 


and concise as the one there civen. 


Phe Piazza del Popolo, which is now one of the 


—— 


* “Roma Antica e Moderna, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


” And on the top of the huge 


Pliny says it,was first quarried by an Keyp- | 


3638 
busiest and most frequented parts of Rome, was a 
desolate waste in the middle ages. ‘There is a curious 
legend told by all the old chroniclers and. local his- 
torians, which, if it exposes the superstitions of the 
times, shows also (what it is better to commemorate) 
the enduring popular horror of cruelty and tyranny. 
According to this tale, on the spot where the chur ch of 
Santa Maria del: Popolo now stands, there once stood a 
creat chestnut-tr ee, “ under which were hidden ‘the i in- 
famous ashes of the Emperor Nero, that were guar ded 
by many malignant spirits, who with divers insults never 
ceased by night to molest the passengers.” o, Now, 
for these reasons, in the year ‘of Grace 1099, the pope, 
Pascal vind resolved that the said tree shat, e cast 
down, and the impious ashes of the wicked king be 
taken up and scattered to the winds.” 

Accordingly the Papal court went in procession ‘to 
the spot, where the pontiff himself was the first to 
strike the tree with an aXe. The tree was then utterly 
destroyed and rooted up, and the ashes of the tyrant, 
or what were supposed to be such, were dispersed. A 
Christian altar was erected over the Pagan’s grave, and 
in process of time the altar grew into a “church *. 


THE DEATH OF PIERS GAVESTON. 


On the edge of the road that leads from Warwick to 
Coventry, is a knoli now almost covered with trees, 
which was the scene of one of the most remarkable 
events in our history. It was‘on this mount that Piers 
Gaveston, the favourite of a weak monarch, Edward IT., 
was beheaded. The original name of this place w as 
Blacklow Hill. It is now called either by that. name 
or by that of Gaveston Hill. The murder which was 
there committed appears to us ‘to present a very ap- 
propriate illustration of the fierce and troublesome 
times, when force was opposed to force, and the con- 
flicts of power had not yet submitted to the sacred 
dominion of law and justice. 

The granting of the Great Charter by King John 
took place in the year 1215, nearly a century before the 
execution of Gaveston. ‘The establishment of general 
freedom, and of legal obligations, in a rude and martial 
state of society, is-generally the work not of a few 
years, but of whole generations. Though the terms of 
Magna Charta evidently imply that the @reat principles 
of civil liberty were very early developed in England, 
yet it is evident that the condition of the great body ot 
the people was still slowly improved, and that the 
crown and the nobility were too often involved in 
disputes for power, which would not adinit of any very 
decided social amelioration. During the long reign of 
Henry III. the country was distracted by civil cen- 
tests; and in the succeeding sway of Ikdward i. the 


‘bold and martial character of the prince was com- 


municated to the age in which he lived; and though 
many wholesome laws were established, the balance ro 
authority and of interests in our constitution was still 
very imperfectly exhibited. The vices and frivolity of 
Edward II. again stirred up the contests between the 
monarch andi the barons. The event which we are 
about to record shows to what daring extremities these 
contests would sometimes lead. 

Previous to the accession of Edward II. to the 
throne, in the year 1307, he had submitted himself, 
with the most blind and obstinate confidence, to the 
counsels of his favourite, Piers Gaveston. This young 
man was a Gascon by ‘pirth. He is represented by 
historians to have becn possessed of singular persoual 
and mental acquirements ;—to have been handsome, 
active, enterprising, and courageous—and superior in 
spirit and talent to the rough Sand unpolished barons 


& ‘ Descrizione dell’ Alma Citta di Roma,’ &c. 
, 3A2 


864 


of the English court. But he was notoriously un- 
principled and profligate, and his pride and ambition 
were altogether of the most extravagant character. 
During the life of his father, the young Prince Edward 
had exhibited marks of a vicious and dissolute dis- 
position. He had incurred the displeasure of the king 
by his irregularities; and his crimes being ascribed to 
the evil suggestions of Gaveston, the companion of his 
vices was banished the kingdom. . The first act of the 
accession of Edward II. was to recall his favourite, and 
to load him with fortune and honours. He made a 
grant to him of the whole estate belonging to the earl- 
dom of Cornwall; and also bestowed upon him a sum 
of money, which, in the currency of our own days, 
would appear to exceed the most extravagant donations 
of the most thoughtless and luxurious princes of 
antiquity. Gaveston soon acquired an unbounded in- 
fluence over the weak king. He removed all the high 
and responsible officers of the court from their stations, 
and filled their places with his dependants. He pro- 
cured himself to be appointed Great Chamberlain of 
the kingdom, and he became, indeed, the sole ruler of 
the English dominions. The monarch bestowed upon 
him his own niece in marriage ; and consummated the 
greatness of his favourite by appointing him guardian 
of the realm during a voyage which he made to France. 
Had Gaveston possessed the greatest discretion, it is 
probable that these honours would have excited the 
utmost jealousy amongst the English nobles. But he 
was vain and presuming; and his. pride and insolence 
laid the foundation of an enmity, as extensive as it was 
bitter and unrelenting. : 

The unbounded power and ostentation of Gaveston 
soon called forth the fierce and uncompromising spirit 
of the barons. They demanded of Edward the banish- 
ment of his favourite. The king tampered with their 
claims ;—and it soon appeared probable that the sword 
would decide the controversy. The barons solemnly 


THE PENNY 














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MAGAZINE. [SerTeMBER 20, 
demanded in parliament that Gaveston should be 
expelled the kingdom —the clergy denounced him ex- 
communicated should he continue in the island. The 
king at length appointed him lord-lieutenant of Ire- 
land, assigned the whole revenue of that kingdom for 
his subsistence, and attended him to the place of his 
embarkation. 

In a very short period, Edward, being impatient for 
the return of his favourite, prevailed upon the Pope to 
absolve Gaveston, according to the wretched supersti- 
tions of those days, from the oath he had taken to 
leave the kingdom for ever. ‘The sentence of excom- 
munication was also suspended. At the parliament 
which followed, the king induced the nobility to consent 
to Gaveston’s recall. But the favourite had not learned 
prudence. The barons came armed to parliament ;-— 
and having a popular subject of complaint against the 
king, they succeeded in compelling him to authorize a 
commission for regulating the affairs of the kingdom. 
The monarch proceeded to the Scottish war against. 
Robert Bruce, accompanied by Gaveston, but his: 
enterprises were not eventually successful. Edward 
returned to England. The commission which he had 
authorized had formed many salutary, though, perhaps, 
extreme and.unconstitutional, regulations for the re- 
striction of the royal prerogative. One of the articles 
particularly insisted upon was the banishment of 
Gaveston. The king was compelled to yield, and his: 
favourite left the realm, and for some time resided at 
Bruges, with all the splendour of a sovereign prince. 
The next year (1312) he ventured to return to York. 
The barons almost immediately took arms, under pre- 
tence of holding tournaments. ‘They suddenly united 
their forces, and proceeded to attack the kine at New- 
castle. The unhappy monarch fled with precipitation ; 
and Gaveston secured himself in the fortress of Scar- 
borough, then one of the strongest holds in the kingdom, 
A detachment of the baronial army immediately invested. 


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that post. Gaveston stood several assaults with great 
bravery ;—but, dreading to exasperate his enemies, he 
at leneth capitulated to the Earl of Pembroke, on con- 
dition of being kept in safe custody, while the barons 
should deliberate on the disposal of his person; and if 
he should not agree to their terms, that he should be 
placed in the same posture of defence which he resigned. 
The barons in authority pledged themselves to this 
treaty, on pain of forfeiting all their possessions. The 
Earl of Pembroke proposed to convey his prisoner to 
his own castle at Wallingford, but left him, during one 
night, at Deddington Castle, near Banbury. Guy, 
Earl of Warwick, the implacable enemy of Gaveston, 
immediately seized upon his person. He bore him in 
triumph to Warwick Castle, where the Earls of Lan- 
caster, Hereford, and Arundel,.repaired to hold .a con- 
sultation about their prisoner. His fate was speedily 
decided. He was dragged to Blacklow Hill, about 
two miles from Warwick Castle, where he was he- 
headed amidst the scorn and reproach of his implacable 
and perfidious enemies. 

On the top of Blacklow Hill there has for some time 
been a rude stone, on which the name of Gaveston, 
and the date of his execution, are inscribed. A few 
years ago, the possessor of Guy’s Cliff, an adjoining 
mansion, distinguished for its picturesque situation and 
romantic grounds, erected the cross which is represented 
in our wood-cut. © It bears the following inscription :— 

IN THE HOLLOW OF THIS ROCK 
WAS BEHEADED, 
ON THE IsT DAY oF guLY, 1312, © 
BY BARONS LAWLESS AS HIMSELF, 
PIERS GAVESTON, EARL OF CORNWALL ; 
THE MINION OF A HATEFUI, KING, 
| IN LIFE AND DEATH, _ 
A MEMORA“ZLE INSTANCE OF MISRULE | 

As we have here sat, looking with delight upon the 

beautiful prospect which this summit presents, we could 


f 


not avoid contrasting the peacefulness and the fertility 
that were spread around, with the wild appearance that 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





[Guy’s Cliff Warwickshire. ] 








365 


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the same spot must have presented at the period of law. 
less violence which we have described. Beneath our 
feet the Avon was gliding in tranquillity and loveliness, 
pursuing its silent course through plenteous fields, or 
by elegant villas—now ornamenting the mansion of 
the noble, and now bestowing its beauty upon the 
cottage of the peasant. When Gaveston fell, it flowed 
amonest sterile cliffs, or through barren plains—for 
equal laws had not then bestowed upon industry the 
blessing of security ;—the labourer worked for a severe 
task-master, and the possessions of the yeoman were 
under the control of a tyrannical lord. In the distant 
prospect we saw the lofty towers of Warwick Castle 
rising’ above the woods in ancient magnificence. When 
Gaveston perished, they were the scenesof many a 
midnight murder, and many an ignominious torture. 
Here had been the rude pomp, the fearful counsels, 
and the tumultuous passions, of the feudal days. ‘The 
pride, and the devices, and the ambition of those times 
were now only “‘ to point a moral, or adorn a tale.” 
The towers of antique splendour indeed remained ;— 
but they were associated with the beauties of modern 
adornment; and the hand of taste had ‘arrested the 
slow ravages of time, to preserve those memorials of 
past generations, whose records should teach:us how 
much we have gained in intelligence and in happiness. 

The preceding vignette represents the beautiful man- 
sion of Guy’s Cliff, which possesses many attractions 
for the curiosity of the traveller. ‘ 


THE MOUNDS OF THE TIGRIS. | 
From the city of Bagdad to the town of Korna, which 
is situated near the point where the Tigris joins the 
Euphrates to form the river of the Arabs (Shat-ul- 
Arab), the distance is upwards of two hundred miles. 
Over this large space, near one of the two finest rivers 
of Western Asia,’the Arabian pitches his tent, or fixes 
his hut of reeds, and there is only one poor mud-built 
village (Koote Ammarah) to indicate the existence of 


366 


men less erratic in their habits of life. Yet in former 
times this country was the centre of Babylonian, Per- 
sian, Greek, and Moslem empires, to which all lands, 
from the Mediterranean to the Indus, brought their tri- 
butes, and from thence the orders of the king of 
kings ” proceeded daily to some of the “ hundred “and 
twenty provinces” of his mighty empire. ‘he: river 
was thronged with boats, barges, and argosies, while 
its banks were lined with cities and towns, gardens, 
temples, and palaces. and its breadth was spanned by 


bridges, the hard-embodied masses of which remain. 


like rocks in the river to this day. When one considers 
this, and imagines’ the activity which resulted from the 
immense population in this now desolate region—the 
hum of the multitude, the trampling of horses, and the 
rattle of chariot wheels—he is induced to look around 
and inquire what indications this great and ancient 
people have leit upon the earth of their existence. The 
inquirer, who is accustomed to look for an answer to 
such a question in shattered walls, broken columns, 
and prostrate capitals, will, except in one solitary in- 
stance, find no such 4 Ar It is for this reason, 
perhaps, that the remains of cities and people, and 
their works, with which the land is covered, have 
hitherto obtained little notice from travellers.- All the 
ereat cities of the Tigris and Kuphrates,—Nineyeh, 
Babylon, Ctesiphor, Seleucia, each the capital of an 
empire, with other cities of inferior note,—are covered, 
as it were, by .their own ashes, on which no green 
thing takes root, and he in shapeless heaps ; beneath 
the surface of which are found sun-dried and kiln- 
burnt bricks, fragments of marble, broken glass and 
earthenware, and sometimes coins. 
mounds, which are not always distinguishable exter- 
nally from the others, furnish in addition, vases, urns, 
and human bones. Besides these, which appear in the 
form of numerous detached mounds of different sizes 
and forms, there are others extending in lines, and 
stretching far away in all directions. These form parts 
of a most magnificent system of aqueducts, by which 
the country was watered and rendered so amazingly 
fruitful as it is reported to have been under the rule of 
its ancient kings. By these different classes of mounds 
the country is, in fact, covered, and when the mind has 
once been directed to them as objects: of interest, their 
recurrence is so frequent as to fatigue the most zealous 
attention. .'They concur—eyerything concurs—to show 
how exceedingly populous, in former times, was this 
old historical country, where now a few miserable Arab 
camps, at distant intervals, and a few occasionally culti- 
vated spots, are the only remaining representatives of 
its ancient population and productive wealth.» 

It is surprising, indeed, that so many of those mounds, 
which furnish kiln-burnt bricks, remain, considering how 
long and to what extent they have been drawn upon 
to furnish materials for other sites, which have been 
less lasting than their precursors. The ancient Baedad, 
for instance, was built with the bricks of Ctesiphon. 
It is at this day a popular tradition, that the Khalif 
Al-Mansoor was about to demolish the remarkable 
building called the Tauk-Kesra, at Ctesiphon, for the 
sale of its materials, when he was induced to spare it 
by the consideration that the rent in its arch, which is 
devoutly believed to have been made at the birth of 
Mohammed, would render it an enduring witness to 
the truth of Islam. The building, therefore, remains 
to the present time a singular feature among the 
ancient monuments of the country. 

The bricks of these countries at present are oblong, 
like our own; but those of the ancient remains, whether 
kiln-burnt or sun-dried, are of a square. form, the 
average size being about a foot, and the thickness vary- 
ine from two and a half to five inches. The sun-dried 
are usually the largest and thickest. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


The sepulchral-. 


They are made : 


[SEPTEMBER 20, 


of clay, which we ascertained to have been, in some 
instances, kneaded with straw, which retained its colour 
and freshness after the lapse of thousands of years. 
The straw was, of course, used for the same purpose 
with the hair which our plasterers mix up with their 
mortar—that of binding the parts together. Dr. Shaw 
makes a similar remark on the bricks of Egypt; and 
Philo, in describing the oppression of the Israelites in 
that country, expressly mentions that the straw, the 
duty of collecting which so annoyed them, was not for 
the purpose of burning the bricks, as we should be 
apt to imagine, but to be employed in the formation of 
the brick fiself— because straw 1s the bond by which 
it is held together.” ‘This was, however, not the case 
with all, or indeed the greater part, of the sun-baked 
bricks that came under our notice; but was first ob- 
served while examining the stupendous walls of what 
appeared to have been a fortress at Ctesiphon, whcre 
we also noticed layers of reed between those of brick: a 
circumstance which is, we believe, pertectly singular. 
Like the straw in the bricks, the reed retained its colour 
and freshness in perfection. , 

It seems not a little singular that the mass of wall to 
which we have been alluding had manifestly been ap- 
plied to sepulchral uses, although in design and con- 
struction as mnch as possible remote from the properly 
and exclusively sepuichral tumuli met with in the Vicinity. 
But the occurrence every where of human bones and se- 
pulchral vases, added to the testimony of the * Desatir,’ 
seems to prove beyond question that in ancient times 
most of the public buildings of the country had; within 
their mass, receptacles of various kinds for sepulchral 
uses. In mentioning such a practice, it should not 
be forgotten that all which might seem repulsive or 
noxious in it is removed by the consideration that 
only the bones were thns deposited, the interment of, 
the body in its entire state not being a usage of the 
country. | 

But although traces of sepulture were so abundant, 
we were not prepared for the remar kable display which 
the eastern bank of the river in more than one part 
exhibited. It- appeared-as if the stream had - gone 
through and made a section of a cemetery, for ‘the per- 
pendienlar face of the bank seemed composed of sepul- 
chral vases (about two feet long and ten inches in 
diameter), closely -packed -in all positions, while loose 
bones were also abundantly displayed in the spaces 
between the urns. Higher up the river than this, about 
six miles below Shenat el ‘Taj, the bank in the same 
manner exhibited a very sincular and unrecorded mode 
of sepulture. We found imbedded in it perpendicularly 
a series of rings, of light yellow pottery, about two feet 
in diameter, and eight inches in depth; forming , by 
their superposition, a hollow shaft many feet deep. 
‘his was in all cases filled with a light, friable, ereyish 

earth, and various pieces of Hee bees while the 
external clay was tenacious and red. Most of these 
shafts were surrounded by pieces of broken pottery,- 
which appeared to have been wedged in for the purpose 
of strengthening and supporting the series of rings, 
which were merely placed upon one another without 
coment. : 

It is very probable that some of the mounds so 
abundantly spread over the country have been eradually 
formed on the nucleus afforded by the ruins of some 
creat public buildings, for in some of them, which have 
been deeply indented by water-courses, angles and picrs 
of masonry distinctly appear. But it is also certain 
that many of the mounds, more particularly those 
which are most conical, were especially and exclusively 
employed for pemcterics, and from the multitude of 
vases which they contain, that they were not the peculiar 
sepulchres of great men, but public cemeteries ; and in 
gopsigermng some of thesé mounds, Be Rae s thst of 


1934.] 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


Ras Bu Himar, it struck us that the mounds were 


formed by the eradual superposition of successive layers 
of sepulchral urns, with layers of earth between. The 
vessels in which the bones are found are of various 
forms and dimensions even in the same ‘mounds. ‘ The 
difference of form, not impossibly, indicates difference 
of sex or station. A very usual form is not unlike that 
of the jars in which erapes are yearly brought to this 
country ; ; bnt sometimes they are oval, and occasionally 
they are oblong, cubical coffins. They differ also in 
fineness and eoloug of clay; but in all cases they are 
coated internally with bitumen. 

On most of the inounds, whether sepulchral or not, 
the washing away, by rain, of the finer particles of soil 
and debris from the surface, leaves exposed an immense 
variety of small pieces of pottery and glass, as well as 
larger fragments of domestic and other vessels. Some 
of the finer unglazed pottery ‘has ornamented rims and 
inscribed figures; and in the glazed, the colours, of 
eveiy imaginable tint, are often so bright and beautiful 
that, were it not for the sepulchral vases lined with 
bitumen, for other glazed earthenware much worn, for 
pieces of glass of different colours but become rough 
‘and opaque, and, above all, for the ancient coins which 
are sometimes eeuitd | in fees sites, it would be hard to 
believe that they were portions of utensils ministering 
to the use of man at a very remote period; but as we 
were constrained to feel that they were such, the frag- 
ments were regarded by us with interest as memori ials 
of the arts which ministered to the convenience of life 
in a far-distant age. 

These remains of antiquity are, in some parts, vene- 
rated by the Arabs as havine been honoured by the 
presence of their holy men. The result of this feeling 
is, that it is not unusual to see the grave of an Arab 
upon these mounds, and par ticularly of children. Over 
their graves they pile large pieces of slag, of which 
there is usually plenty near such sites, to prevent the 
jackalls from molesting the corpse. It struck us 
ulto@ether as'a very sing culai association. 

We may mention, 10 conclusion, that our explorations 
amone these alicient monuments were not pursued 
without some danger. It was always necessary to be 
on our guard against the Arabs; and it was not deemed 
prudent to walk beyond call of the boats without being 
attended by a guard of armed sepoys and native 
servants, whose bayonets and sabres served also to pierce 
and tum up the soil, and formed, in fact, our only 
instruments for extavating. Nor were dangers from 
the Arabs the only dangers. In making our researches 
at Ras Bu Himar,; at Shadaif, and at the Bistaun Bint 
Kesra, we saw the ‘8cently-made tracks of lions, and at 
Shadaif particularly we came upon their rétreats, 
deep éxcavations in the sepulchral mounds, around the 
entrances of which were strewed the bones, horns, parts 
of the skin and other remains of oxen, sheep, jackalls, 
antelopes and a camel. On no occasion, however, did 
the ‘* beasten kings ” trouble us with their royal notice. 


BEARDS. 

THERE is more Cirious and ilteresting information con- 
nected’ with the subject of beards than mi¢ht at the 
first view be imagined ; ald we shall, in the preseéut 
paper, state some particulars coucernine the e@rowth 
and culture of that appendage,—the cherished of some 
nations, the despised of others,—reserving some in- 
formation relating to shaving for a future occasion. 

The difference which the beard exhibits in different 
countries would alone form a curions subject of inquiry. 
Some have the beard in great profusion, and others are 
almost entirely without it. This difference is probably 
the effect of climate and modes of life; for we find 
generally that, in hot and dry countries, the beard is 
dark, dry; hard; and thin; whilst in moist aud cold 


2 


‘spectively in bearded and shaven nations. 


867 
countries it is commonly thick, slightly cufling, and 
lizht in colour. So also, in all countries, it is the 
tendency of poor, dry, and indigestible food to fender 
the beard hard and bristly, while wholesome’ and di- 
gestible nutriment makes it soft. Yet to all such 
reneral rules there must be many individual exceptions. 
But it occurs to us as a rule Jess liable to: exception 
than any other, that the circumstances of civilized life 
are the most favourable to the development of this 
appendawe. When an exception to this rule is*dis- 
covered, it will be rather that some bodies of civilized 
nien have meagre beards, not that uncivilized men have 
full ones: We cannot recollect any’ savages that are 
furnished with ‘large beards; but we recollect. that 
those of the Chinese are exceedingly thin, and the 
Chinese must be ranked with civilized men.’ “We have 
not, however, the most profound respect for Chinese 
civilization ; and it is, after all, true that they have. 
something more resembling a beard than the nomade’ 
people in “the tiorth and north-west with whom they are 
physically classed. But there is perhaps no people, 
however savage, upon whose chins a few stunted and 
stray hairs do. not appear. It was at one time firmly 
believed that the North Americans were totally destitute’ 
of ariy-rudiments of this natural ornament; an excep- 
tion was indeed made in favour of the Esquimaux, 
who manifestly had something like a beard, and who, 
therefore, must have had an origin different from the 
other natives of North America. On more ‘patient 
inquiry into the subject, however, it appeared that the 
Indians had naturally as much beard as the Esquimaux, 
but that they were in the labit of uprooting it from its 
first appearance. We have always great pleasure in 
stating circumstances which shake such theories as have 
hot been founded, on the basis of carefully-ascertained 
facts. The North American Indians are not the only 
people who eradicate the scanty supply of hair with 
which their chins are furnished ; and it may be generally 
stated, that those on whose faces no culture can raise a 
decent beard, consider the trifle they possess as a 
deformity of ‘which they are anxious to get rid in 
the most effectual way they can devise. But in those 
countries where the hair of the face acquires sufficient 
development to furnish the semblancé of a beard; the 
aa is, Without exception, regarded as a manly 
sit. We inake no exception, 
Bésdnst its éXcision in modern Europe is not from any 
disrespect to the beard; but in complidanee with an usage 
rendered convenient by the habits of modern civiliza- 
tion; and, in many cases, those indications of a beard 
which the razor cannot destioy are a source of as much 
pride as the beard itself among thosé who let it grow : 
and among those who have attained to manhood, 
even the steriest inust remember the complacency with: 
which they saw the ** down” make its first appearance 


on their faces. 


It would be tiresome to go over the account of the’ 
ancient natious which cultivated and prized the beard, 
for, with the exception of the Greeks and Romans, all 
other iiations < appear to have done so. ven in Greece 
the beard was always worn (except among the Mace- 
donians) until the time of Alexander, and in on. until 
the year 300 8. c. ‘In both nations the philosophers and 
priests retained their beard after it had been re- 
linquished by the body of the people. But among that 
singular people—the Eeyptians—it was the priests that 
shaved, and they shaved uot only the face but the head 
atid the whole body. But they let their beards and: 
hair grow in tine of mourning ; ‘and so did the Romans: 
when they became a shaven people ; : while the Greeks,’ 
in the time of beards; were accustomed to manife est 
their erief by shaving. Indeed these opposite sigus 
of mourning may be “considered to have prevailed re- 


On a 


$03. 


similar principle, a beard was a token of bondage 
among shaven nations, and the want of a beard had 
the same signification among bearded people. The 
slaves of the Romans wore their beard and hair long ; 
and when they were manumitted they shaved the head 
in the temple of Feronia, and put on a cap as a badge 
of liberty., On the other hand, the Franks, who were 
a, bearded people, when they became masters of Gaul, 
ordered all bondsmen_ to shave their chins; and. this 
law continued until the entire abolition of servitude in 
France. - As in the times of the first race of kings the 
beard was a token of nobility and freedom, the ‘kings 
themselves were emulous to have the largest beards. 
Eginhard describes the kings of this race as. proceed- 
ing to the assemblies in the field of Mars, in a carnage 
drawn by oxen, and sitting on the throne with very 
long beards and dishevelled hair, 

In what are called the middle ages it appears that 
beards were generally, although not ‘uniformly, i in high 
esteem. “Among the early French monarchs it seems 
to have been a custom that documents of importance 
emanating from. the sovereign should have three hairs 
of his beard on the seal. There is still extant a charter 
of the date of 1121, which declares that it had thus 
been ratified. We presume this custom expired when 
such documents became so numerous as to threaten 
the-royal beard with demolition. There are many indi- 
vidual beards the memory of which has come down to 
our own times, whether from their len¢th and beauty, 
or from anecdotes of -beaxd-respect connected with them. 
A few of these we cannot refrain from indicating. Of 
King Robert of France, the rival of Charles the 
Simple, in the tenth century, we hardly know which is 
greatest, the renown of his exploits or of his long 
white beard, which :he suffered to hang down on the 
outside of his curiass to encourage his ‘troops in battle 
and. rally them when defeated. At a much later period, 
the respect in which beards were held by the Portu- 
euese is well illustrated by the romantic anecdote of 
the brave John de Castro, who, when he had taken the 
castle of Diu in India, felt himself under the necessity 
of borrowing a thousand pistoles for the maintenance 
of his fleet ; and, as a security for the loan, sent them 
one of his whiskers, telling them that, “ all the gold in 
the world cannot equal, the value of this natural orna- 
ment of my valour, which I'deposit in your hands as a 
security for the money.” It is related that the good 
people of Goa, were much affected by.this message, and 
generously sent back both: the, money and the whisker. 
About the same period lived the German painter, John 
Mayo, nicknamed “ John the Bearded,” on account of 
his splendid . beard. -Although he was a tall man, it 
was of such.length that it reached the ground when ‘he 
stood . upright, for which reason -he commonly wore it 
fastened to, his girdle. . The Emperor Charles V. used 
to take much delig ht in seeing this extraordinary beard 
unfastened, and the wind , blowing it against the faces 
of the lords of his court. ‘Every. one has heard of the 
beard of.Sir Thomas More; not that it appears to have 
been remarkable in itself; but from the anxiety of that 
distinguished man to preserve his beard, “ innocent. of 
treason,’ ’ from being injured by the stroke which de- 
prived him of life. “Most of our, readers are doubtless 
also acquainted with the violent and: successful opposi- 
tion of the Russian peasantry to the attempts of Peter 
the Great to deprive them of their beards. .On all 
ordinary - occasions he was their idol; but when he 
aimed at.the safety of their beards he came to be con- 
sidered as a tyrant and an enemy, and the formidable 
opposition excited obliged him to soften into a beard- 
tax his first firm purpose, either by fair means.or foul, 
to shave all the nation. ‘The tax was afterwards re- 
pealed; and the Russian peasantry to this day retain 
their beards, and glory in them. » 7 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Sepremper 20, 1834. 


In the same degree that the Europeans are now 
generally a shaven” people, the Asiatics are generally 
bearded. And as among all Asiatic nations the Per- 
sians have the finest beards, and cultivate them with 
the most care, we shall bestow the remainder of this 
article upon the beards of Persia. 

The Persians in very early times were accustomed to 
vive great attention to their beards. We are informed 
by Chrysostom, that their kings had the beard interwoven 
or matted with gold thread ; and the accuracy of this 
information is evinced by the ancient Persian sculp- 
tures, which still remain, in which the common beards 
are curiously and nicely curled, while those of the 
throned personages are stiff and matted. In the same 
sculptures other persons who, from the offices they are 
performing, appear to be slaves or servants, have the 
beard in its natural state. ‘The beards, even of Persia, 
have however undergone fluctuations. During the 
Suffavean dynasty it appears that only mustaches on 
the upper lip were common. Europeans, who travelled 
in the country during that period, describe and delineate 
the Persian face as destitute of beard. Now, however, 
the ancient zeal for beards has revived ; ; and the king 
himself has one of the finest ever seen. It reaches 
below his waist, and is altogether so rich an appendage 
that it forms an unfailing theme of admiring talk 
among the subjects of the Shah, who seem sometimes 
to feel that, were other claims wanting, his beard alone 
would entitle him to reign over men. 

The beards of the Persian naturally attain a larger 
size than those of the Turks, the Russians, or perhaps 
any other people. ‘They are mostly of a black colour 
naturally, but the practice of dyeing the beard, either 
to strengthen the intensity of the natural black, or to 
give that colour where it does not exist, is universal 
among all classes. ‘The operation by which this is 
effected is painful and tedious, and must in general be 
repeated every fortnight. It is always performed in 
the hot bath, as the caturaiin of the hair, which takes 
place in beihing , enables it to take the colour better. 
In the first instance a thick paste of henna is plastered 
over the beard; and, after it has remained for abont 
an hour, it is washed away and leaves the beard of a 
deep orange colour, bordering on that of brick-dust. 
Then another paste, made from the leaf of the indigo, is 
applied in the same manner,-and allowed to remain for 
two hours. Throughout all the progress of this opera- 
tion the, man with the beard is obliged to lie on-his 
back, while the dye, more particularly in the- latter 
application, causes the lower part of. the face to smart 
and burn, and contracts the features in a very mournful 
manner. When the .patient first comes forth from the 
bath, the colour of his .beard.is a dark- bottle-ereen, 
which becomes a jet black only after twenty-four hours’ 
exposure to the air. ‘The operation is one of consider- 
able nicety, otherwise the final, result may be a purple 
or a parti-coloured beard instead of a black one. Many 
of the common people are so-much smitten by the fiery 
red produced by the first application, as to decline to 
have it changed to black. The meteoric appearance of 
such beards is very whimsical, nor less so the blue 
beards which are preferred in. Bokhara. All. colours 
but black are, however, considered vulgar in Persia. 
—at as inconceivable,” says Mr. Morier, how careful 
the Persians are of this ornament: all the young men 
sigh for it, and grease their chins to hasten the growth 
of the Coe ior toy until they have there a respect- 
able covering, they are not supposed fit to enjoy any 
place of trust.” 





*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowled: ve is at 
59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields. 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 


Printed by W1LLt1am Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE / 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





159.) PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Serremper 27, 1834. 








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‘{ West Front of the Cathedral at Rheims. | 
Vou, WIT, ‘38 


370: 


Tuts large and very ancient city of Exdacl is the 
capital of the department of Marne, in the north-east 
of that kingdom. It stands on the banks of the small 
river Vezele, in a plain that in itself presents few 
attractive features, but which is pleasantly limited in 
the distance by low hills eovered with trees and vine- 
yards. The town, as seen from the declivity of these 
hills, presents a fine appearance, to which its tall and 
majestic cathedral not a little contributes. The form 
of the city is oblong, extending from south-east to 
north-west, and its eircumference is about four miles 
and a half. It is surrounded by a mound of earth, 
which is bordered by parapets, and planted on both 
sides with double rows of trees. This mound overlooks 
a ditch, which is filled up in many places; and the 
town is also bounded by a wall. These appendages 
are not held in any eonsideration with a view to the 
defence of the place, its proper fortifications having 
been demolished in the year 1812. 

Access to Rheims is furnished by six gates, all of 
which present a fine appearance through the shady 
avenues by which the approach is made. ‘Two of 
them, the ‘‘ Porte de Mars” and the ‘* Porte de Cerég,” 
retain their Roman names; and outside the latter 
there is a suburb of the same name. A very consider- 
able part of the laree space inclosed hy the walls is 
uneceupied by , buildings, particularly towards the 
south, where there are immense gardens and spots of 
naked eround. The closely-bailt part, which is not one 
half of the space inclosed, forms a well-determined 
oval, of which the square called the ** Place Royale” 
may be considered the centre. This “ Place” is of a 
square form, and is, for a French cquare, large. It 
is furnished with some very hauc.cme buildines, of 
which the niost important is the Custom-house, which 
occupies all the south side. In the centre of this 
square there is a fine pedestrian statue, in bronze, of 
Lous XV., erected in, the year 1818, in the place of 
one that was thrown down and destroyed in 1793. 
The streets are generally well paved, wide, and straight, 
with the exception of those in the northern part of the 
town, Where they are nearly all very narrow and _tor- 
tuous, There are three or four streets remarkable for 
their width aud length; of these that which leads in a 
straight line across the whole width of the town, from 
the eastern to the western gate, is mentioned as the 


nest. ‘The houses are generally built either with 
chalk-stone or with boards, and are covered with 
slates. ‘They are seldom of more than one story, and 


many still display the Gothic g@ables which surmounted 
all the facades in former times. A French writer, who 
seems to have a strong feeling against gables, says, 
that at Rheims they give to the streets a saddened 
aspect which s singularly harmonizes with, and augments 
the apparent inactivity and desertion of the streets, in 
many of which the grass grows in abundance. The 
city possesses a great number of fountains, for which 
it is indebted to the eanon Godinot. One of them, 
near the cathedral, preserves his name, and is worthy 
of notice for its antiquity and its ar chitecture. 

Of the public buildings of Rheims the most remark- 
able, beyond all comparison, is the cathedral of Nétre 
Dame, which is considered one of the finest specimens 
of Gothic architecture in Europe. It is a work of the 
twelfth century, and, regarded as a whole, is an exceed- 
ingly grand and imposing structure. It is rendercd 
still further remarkable as the building long dedicated 
to the ceremony of anointing and consecrating the 
kings of France. ‘The leneth of the building is 469 
feet, its width 97 feet, anid its height 114 feet. The 
west or principal front, which is ‘represented in our 
wood-cut, Is a magnificent work, having a general 
resemblance to that of the church of Notre Dame at 
Paris, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


It has three noble entrances, ornamented with | 


[| SEPTEMBER 273, 


an immense number of statues, inclined according to 
the curvature of the pointed arches which compose eaeh 
entrance. The front is likewise decorated with a mass of 
bas-reliefs, sculptures, and other ornaments of the most 
delicate workmanship. Altogether there are between 
4000 and 5000 figures sculptured on the exterior of this 
edifice, of which 400 or 500 decorate the principal portal. . 
Above the middle door there is a large circular window, 
with another of the same form above it.. Each.end of- 
the principal front is surmounted by a tower, the height 
of which from the level of the ground is 260 fect. 
There are seven flying buttresses between the transept 
and the end of the nave, and in each buttress there is 


-a niche, or rather a recess with columns, containing a 


full-length statue. Above the buttresses, upon the top 
of the principal wall, there is a singularly light balus- 
trade of pointed arches, which appear projected against 
the roof. At the east end of the eathedral, which is 
eircular, there are quadruple flying buttresses, sur- 
mounted by pinnacles. ‘The two gates on the north 
side of the transept have their fine sculptures i in excel- 
lent preservation: a third gate appears to have been 
built up. The interior of this magnificent structure 
does not disappoint the expectation which the exterior 
is calculated to excite. There are ten noble Gothic 
columns in the nave on each side, with two windows 
between each column. ‘The places in the roof where 
the groins meet are all gilt, the upper windows in the 
nave are most beautifully coloured, and the lower part 
is adorned with twelve pieces of tapestry. In the choir 
there are ten eolumns, six of which are circular, and all 
with beautifully-wrought capitals. The pavement of the 
choir is much admired, being composed of lozenges ot 
different kinds of marble; it was transferred from the 
ancient church of St. Nicaise, which is no longer existing. 
From the same church was also transferred the curious 
tonb of F. V. Jovinus, who was a citizen of Rheims, 
and became Roman consul in the year 366. This 
monument, which is of white marble, presents upon 
one of its faces an exceedingly well-preserved sculptured 
representation of a hunting scene. In the north end 
of the transept there is one of the finest organs in 
France, over which there is a grand circular window 
of painted olass, and on the “opposite side there is 
another. Among the other remarkable objects in the 
cathedral we may mention that the Chapel of the 
Virgin contains a bas-relief by Nicolas Jacques, and 


Poussin’s fine picture of ‘ The Washing of the Feet.’ 


There is also a inarble font, in which it is believed that 
Clovis, the first Christian king of F rance, was. bap- 
tized. This building was commenced in the year 1211, 
to replace one that had been burnt down the preceding 
year; but it was not completed until towards the end 
of the fifteenth century. 

Next to the cathedral, the ehurch of St. Remi is the 
most interesting building in the town, and forms a very 
conspicuous object on the approacn to it, particularly 
on the road from Chalons. We shall not undertake to 
describe it particularly, but may mention that it was 
remarkable in popular opinion for nothing more than for 
being the building in which-was deposited the famous 
phial of oil with which the ‘kings were anointed, and 
which, according to a tradition not yet quite exploded, 
was brought from Heaven by a dove at the baptism of 
Clovis. ‘The town has five churches in all. 

- Rheims possesses a very superb town-hall, which 
was begun in the year 1627, but only. completed in 
1825. "The facade is decor we with Corinthian, Tonic, 
and Doric columns, and terminates in two large pavi- 
lions, between witieh another, more light and elegant, 
surmounts a fine tower. This vast building odnimiae 
the public library, which consists of 25, 000 printed 
volumes and 1000 manuscripts. 


Rheims was a place of importance under the Romans, 
: ae 











‘1834.] 


and of this fact there still remain some indications. Of 
these, the ancient names by which several of the streets 
and gates are still called do not seem the least inte- 
resting. The old gate of Mars, which was closed 
up in 1542, is situated near the new gate of the same 
name, and although much decayed is still an inte- 
resting object. It consists of a triple portico, deco- 
rated with eight finted Corinthian columns: the middle 
areh is nineteen feet in width, and the other two twelve 
feet six inehes. Writers are not agreed by whom or 
in whose honour this triumphal arch was erected. At 
a little distanee from the town there is an isolated 
monud, which is believed to be composed of the rub- 
bish of an amphitheatre. | 

The city is the seat of an archbishopric, of which 
the arrondissement of Rheims and the department of 
Ardennes forms the diocese, and which has for its suf- 
fragans the bishops of Amietis, Beauvais, Chalons-sur- 
Marne, and Soissons. It is, in fact, the ecclesiastical 
capital of F'ranee, of which the arehbishop 1s the me- 
trepolitan prelate. This dignitary was formerly premier 
duke and peer of France, and enjoyed the exelusive 
privilege of conseerating the kines of that country. In 
the year 1179 Philip Angustus was crowned in the 
cathedral at Rheims, in the presence of all the peers of 
France; and from that time, until 1829, when Charles X. 
was crowned here with great magnificence,. all the sove- 
reigns of the country have been crowned in the same 
plaee, with only three exceptions,—that of Henry IV., 
who was crowned at Chartres; of Napoleon, whose 
coronation took place at Paris; and of Louis XVIIT., 
who was not crowned at all. When QLonis Philippe 
was called to the throne, in 1830, the costly ceremony 
was abolished altogether. ~~ 

_Among the public establishments of Rheims there 
are the usual offices of local government, judicial ad- 
ministration, and commercial association. A university 
was founded in 1547 by the cardinal of Lorraine, and 
attained some celebrity ; but it perished at the Revolu- 
tion, and is now replaced by a royal college, or high 
school. ‘There is also a medical school, several schools 
of mutual instruction, and a botanic garden, 

The manufactures of the town consist chiefly of 
cotton and woollen goods, with hats, stockings, candles, 
oil, leather, and spiced biscuits and bread. Its traffic 
with these and other articles, and, above all, with the 
wines of Champaigne, is considerable, and is much 
facilitated by the excellent roads which connect it with 
the metropolis and other important towns. The present 
population of 38,000 is a considerable increase on that 
exhibited in former years. 





Female Ornament in Kotzebue's Sound.—The women 
have large beads suspended from a perforation in the sep- 
tum of the nose. When they are inconvenienced by the 
hanging position of these ornaments, they stow them away 
in their nostrils.—//S. Journal of a Voyage of Discovery. 





Chinese Inhabitanis of Boats.—The river opposite to the 

town (Canton) is almost covered with boats of various sizes 
and descriptions, in the principal part of which the owners, 
‘who are of the poorer class, reside. ‘Thousands are born, 
brought up, and die in these boats, having no more com- 
munication with the shore than necessity compels. These 
boats are covered over in the after-part with a kind of bam- 
boo matting, sufficiently strong and waterproof to keep out 
the rain, and of length sufficient to allow them to lie down 
unexposed to sight. These poor creatures, from being con- 
fined in so small a place,—aceustomed to squat upon their 
hams, and crawl about their boat,—are generally very awk- 
ward in their motions when on their feet. Their male 
children are taught the art of swimming as soon as they 
know the use of their legs, until which time they wear a 
calabash suspended round their necks, to buoy them up 
in case of their falling overboard. —JZS. Account of the 
Chinese.. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 871 


Making Friends in Otahette-—in consequence of the 
early missionaries having reached this place by way of the 
Cape of Good Hope, they were a day before us in their time ; 
we were, therefore, yesterday (Saturday by our reckoning, 
and. Sunday by theirs) presented with a inost striking proof 
of the alteration in their habits since the time of Wallis and 
Cook. Not a canoe was seen afloat; but the people cleanly 
dressed, and the women with bonnets, after the European 
fashion, were observed returning from divine service, with 
their psalm-books, &¢., under their arms, and proceeding 
quietly to their homes, after stopping on their way to gaze 
on the Engiish man-ofwar which they had so long expected. 
But this morning brought, to our view quite a different 
scene. All was bustle. The ship was surrounded with 
eanoes, filled with fruit, &e.; and the men were not a little 
astomished and hurt when repulsed in the attempt to conie 
on board in the droves that offered. Some few were ad- 
mitted, and we soon became acquainted with a custom that 
prevails of each native selecting some onc of the strangers 
fur his especial friend. We were not a little troubled by 
their importunity ;—accosting us with, “ You my freuny me, 
me my irenny you: and “ You my frenny, he is know me.” 
Those who gave an assentiug answer to the proposal were 
presented with a basket of frnit, or something ef the sort, 
by way of ratification of the treaty. The fact is, that the 
native thus admitted to friendship becomes the agent to 
whom the stranger applies for the supply of all his wants. 
Lhis friendship, however, must be liberally rewarded ; and 
au eoat and frilled shirt are most in request.—MS. Journaé 
of.a Voyage of Discovery. : 


Vapour Bath in California.—The ‘ Temiscal,’ or vapour 
bath, is worthy of notice: it is a structure of mud, the floor 
of which is sunk about four or five feet below the surface 
of the earth, circular, and from fifteen to twenty feet«in 
diameter. Beside the hole for ingress, which has a short 
passage to check the too ready admission of external air, 
there is another opening at the top to allow the eseape of the 
smoke from a fire whieh is kindled in the centre. Around 
this fire lie the Indians, with their feet towards it, wrapped 
up m their thick woollen cloths, and thus continue until the 
whole system is debilitated by excessive perspiration. They 
then quit their warm lodging, and plunge into a stream of 
cold water, near which they are careful always to build their 
Temiscal,—MS. Journal of a Voyage of Discovery. 


Franklin's Loan.—The following letter was written by 
Dr. Franklin while at Paris, and was eemmunicated by the 
person who received i¢ to the person by whom it was origi- 
nally published :— 

April 22, 1784. 

I send you herewith a bill for ten Louis-d’or; I do not 
pretend to give such a sum, I only /end it to you. When 
you shall return to your country you cannot fail of getting 
into some business that will in time enable you to pay all 
your debts. In that case when you meet with another 
honest man in similar distress, you must pay me by lending 
this sum to him, enjoining him to discharge the debt by a 
like operation when he shall be able, and shall meet with 
such another opportunity. I hope it may thus go through 
many hands before it meets with a knave to stop its pro- 
gress, This is a trick of mine for doing a deal of good with 
alittle money. Iam not rich enough to afford much in 
sood work, and so am obliged to be earning and make the 
most of a little. : 


Chinese Women.—Corpulency is deemed a beauty in, 
men, but a blemish in women. The women have usually 
a peculiarly arched eye-brow,—as much tke effect of art as 
nature,—a very unmeaning face, and, among the higher 
classes, exceedingly small feet, from the tight pressure, 
during infancy and childhood, of small wooden shoes. This 
custom originated (as described in Chinese history) several 
centuries back, when a large body of feniales rose against, 
and endeavoured to overthrow, the government. To prevent 
the recurrence of such an event, the use of wooden shoes 
was enforced on all female infants, so small as to disable 
them, without great pain, to make any use of their feet. 
This custom has now become so familiar from long usage, 
that a small foot is reckoned one of the greatest attrac- 
tions a Chinese female can possess.—MS. Account of the 
Chinese. . 

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Fountains, the best of which are such as that repre- 
sented in our wood-cut, are common in Mohainmedan 
towns; and, besides the ordinary use of assuaging the 
thirst of the passers-by, they, with an adjoining plat- 
form, and with an erect stone to indicate the way the 
worshipper should turn his face, constitute so many 
oratcries for the use of those whom the call to prayer 
surprises at a distance from the mosque, or who prefer 
to perform their devotions in the open air. It is obli- 
eatory on all Mohammedans to pray five times a day ; 
but it is only on the Friday that they are expected to 
attend ‘at the mosque for the purpose: and in general, 
when a Moslem hears the call to prayers, or knows that 
the hour is arrived, he will perform his devotions at any 
convenient place near that where he happens to be at 
the time, after he has executed the required ablutions. 
These consist in washing the hands three times suc- 
cessively, as well as the face, the arms, the head, the 
neck, and the feet; and also the inside of the mouth, of 
the ears, and of the nostrils. It is for the purpose of 
these ablutions that fountains are so abundantly pro- 
vided. In places where no water is to be had the 
ablution may be made with earth or sand. This 
practice is followed -by persons travelling in the 
deserts ; and with regard to persons at sea, who have 
no such substitutes, and cannot afford fresh water, they 
eflect their ablutions by rubbing themselves with their 
hands alone, after having placed them onastone. Sea-. 
water is considered impure, and entirely unfit for the 
purposes of ablution. These washings are generally 
performed in a very slight way. In consequence of its 
being necessary to wash the arm up to the elbow, the 
Moslems have the sleeves of their dress with buttons 
from the elbow to the wrist. The Turks and Arabs 
venerally wear their sleeves loose and unbuttoned, to 
save the trouble of frequent unbutioning and buttoning 
acain; but the Persians, who are much less observant 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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[An Oratory or Place of Prayer.] 


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of what their religion in this respect requires, are 
seldom seen but with their sleeves buttoned up. Indeed, 
every thing that their forms of worship demand, in regard 
to prayers and ablutions, is seldom performed by any 
Moslems except those of the higher and middle classes; 
and* in’ all cases the morning, noon, and evening 
periods of prayer are the most attended to, while the 
intermediate ones are comparatively neglected. 

Although Christians are not generally allowed to 
enter the mosques, the ceremonies of prayer are so 
much performed in the streets and open places of towns, 
that the most unobservant stranger soon becomes 
thoroughly acquainted with all the proceedings. 

There are no bells in Mohammedan countries; but, 
at the appointed hours, an officer of the mosque, called 
the mwezzin, mounts upon the minarets and calls the 
faithful to prayers, or rather notifies that the proper 
time has arrived. For this office the persons endowed 
with the most sonorous voices are chosen in preference, 
and the distance at which they can be heard is such as 
to’ become a subject of surprise to Europeans. This 
notice is not delivered from every mosque, but only 
from such as are sufficient to afford an equal distribu- 
tion of the sound over the city. The call consists of a 
declaration of the Mohammedan profession of faith :— 
“There is no other God but God, and Mohammed is 
the Prophet of God!” with many repetitions; then 
follows the invitation to prayers, to which, in the morn- 
ing, is added the assurance that °° Prayer is better than 
sleep ;” and the whole concludes with the declaration 
that God is most great, and most high, and that there 
is no other Ged but him. 

When the call is heard, the devout who happen to 
be abroad hasten to the fountains and the streams to 
perform their ablutions; when this is done, if there are 
many present, one of the number assumes the office of 
an imaum, or leader, and, placing himself befoye them, 


— 


1834.] 


with his face towards Mecca, the rest. follow him in his 
words and postures. 

Every canonical prayer is composed of an invocation, 
of different ricauts, and of the salutation. <A ricaut 
consists of a series of seven positions of the body, with 
each of which a particular prayer or declaration ‘is 
connected. ‘ The worshipper stands for a short time 
erect, as if endeavouring to fix his attention on the 
duties he is about to perform, with both the hands 
raised to the ears, and then repeats the declaration 
‘*God is most great!” He then lets his arms and hands 
hang down, in one sect, or crosses them on his breast, 
in another, and in this posture repeats the first chapter 
of the ‘ Koran.’ It is short, commencing with praise 
and ending in prayer for guidance in the right way. 
The whole upper part of the body is then bent forward, 
with the hands resting upon the knees, and thiey say, 
with a loud voice, ‘‘ God is most great!’ Then, rising 
to their former position, they say, ‘* God ‘listens when 
praise is given to him.” And then they prostrate 
themselves, with their knees, hands, and faces on the 
eround ; and, in this humblest of postures, declare awain 
that **‘ God is great.” ‘This declaration is repeated in all 
the remaining positions ; which are—sitting down with 
their lees .bent under them, so that the weight of the 
body rests upon the heels, which is a common sedentary 
posture among the Persians:—they then prostrate 
themselves as before; and, finally, raise themselves 
upon their feet, if possible without touching the ground 
with their hands as they rise. ‘This is the first ricaut, 
and the second is like it, except that, instead of raising 
theinselves upon their feet from the last prostration, they 
seat themselves upon’ their heels, and in this posture 
invoke blessings upon the Prophet, upon themselves, 
and upon all the faithfnl. If the prayer is intended to 
conclude with this vtcawt, a longer address than any 
which preceded is added. It commences with a decla- 
ration of faith, and concludes with the invocation of 
blessings. After this, the worshipper, still sitting, 
turns his face first towards the right, and then towards 
the left, repeating each time ‘* Peace be with you.” 


These two 7ricauts constitute a complete prayer ; and no’ 


new words or postures are introduced in the additional 
ricauts, which are required on particular occasions, or 
which the zealously devout sometimes voluntarily under- 
take. The arrangement, however, is somewhat varied. 

When the canonical prayers are completed, the wor- 
shipper, if a person of leisure and devotion, does not 
immediately rise and go away, but remains to count 
his beads. ‘The rosary consists of ninety beads, and a 
distinct ejaculation is appropriated to each as it passes 
between the fingers. Each ejaculation generally con- 
sists of two words, and declares a name or attribute 
of God. Almost all Moslems in the upper and middle 
ranks of life carry in their pockets or bosoms a string 
of beads for this purpose, which they use not only 
on the occasion we are describing, but while sitting 
and smoking their pipes, walking in the streets, or even 
while engaged in conversation. The ejaculation con- 
nected with each bead is more eenerally understood 
than expressed. 

When a Moslem has gone over his beads at the 
revular time of prayer, he folds his hands, and then, 
holding them up, open, as if to receive something from 
above, he prays for such blessings as he desires for him- 
self or his household. When this is concluded, he 
strokes his beard with his right hand, and says, * Praise 
be to God!” This concludes the whole. 

Moslems, when they pray in the open air, are careful 
to select the cleanest spot they can find; on this they 
spread a mat or a carpet, on which they stand without 
their shoes. If they are not provided with those 
conveniences, they employ their cloaks for the same 
purpose; and, whether thus used or not, they generally 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


373 


lay aside their outermost tobe while they are engaged 
in their devotions, It is customary to lay down some 
relic or other, in such a manner that the forehead may 
rest upon it in the prostrations, It'is remarkable that 
the. comb which is employed to dress the beard is most 
frequently used for this purpose, probably ‘on account 
of the important and almost sacred office to which it is 
applied. Moslenis, particularly Arabs, have the utmost 
respect for their beards. |They carefully inter the hairs 
which come off in the combing, and Ali Bey relates 
that he could -not, in all Mecca; procure a hair with 
which to mend his hygrometer. . 

In .general, the mosque is only attended on ordinary 
days by the persons whose residence or occupation is in 
the immediate neighbourhood; but as an attendance 
on I’riday is positively enjoined, the mosques are then 
well frequented. ‘The Imaum sometimes delivers a 
sermon to the people, but his proper office is that of 
leader in their devotious, his functions in some degree 
approximating to those of our readers or clerks. The 
ministrations are not at all indispensable, since any 
man may, and does, occasionally assume the character 
and perform its functions. In small villages, which 
have no proper Imamn, the duties of. the office: are 
regularly performed by the schoolmaster, if there be 
any. ‘Ihe Mohammedans can hardly be said to have a 
clergy. ‘The Imaum is essentially a layman, depending 
upon some worldly calling for his principal: support ; 
for he seldom receives more than from ten to fifteen 
pounds a year, and often much less, from an appoint- 
ment for which he‘is usually indebted to the good 
opinion which his neighbours entertain of his character 
and talents. , 

The devotions as performed in the mosque only differ 
from these in the open air in being led by the regular 
officer, in being under cover, and in the greater 
number of persons assembled, and performing together 
their simultaneous prostrations. The stranger, as he 
looks in on passing the open gates of the mosques, 
will hardly be prevented, by difference of opinion from 
the worshippers, from feeling it both solemn and in- 
teresting to hear the declaration of the greatness of the 
Deity simultaneously issue from a great multitude 
prostrate before Him, in an attitude the most expressive 
of humiliation and self-abasement. 


HISTORY OF GAS.—No. I. 


THe appearance of this vast metropolis at night is now 
very different from that which was afforded within the 
memory of perhaps one half of those persons who fre- 
quent its streets. The beautiful hight from the nume- 
rous lamps and well-lit shop-windows renders a walk by 
night as safe and as agreeable as by day, and almost 
blots from memory the dingy ilumimations of only 
twenty years ago. <A generation or two before, the 
case was still worse: as late as in the reien of George IT. 
the only lamps were lanterns, which housekeepers living 
in the principal streets were required to hang out on 
dark nights in front of their houses from six to eleven 
o'clock; and though from that period the number of 
lights, and perhaps their brilliancy, had progressively 
increased, the introduction of gas was a leap in the 
march of improvement far beyond any that had been 
previously made or hoped for. 

Although so lately brought into the service of man, 
the existence of a gas derived from coal capable of 
affording ‘* a large flame which burnt vigorously” has 
been lone known. An account of the Burning Well 
near Wigan, in Lancashire, was published by ‘Thomas 
Shirley in the ‘ Philosophical Transactions’ of 1667, in 
which the author confuted the opinion that the waters 
of the Burning Well were inflammable like oil, as then 
believed, and correctly remarked that the flame was 


‘BTA 


produced by the combustion of bituminous fumes 
issuing from the water, which he felt as “a strong 
breath, as it were a wine > against his hand. Maase 
fumes, he inferred, were produced from the coal-bed 
which underlies all that part of the country. ‘The first 
published account of making coal-gas was about the 
bevinning of the last century, when Dr. Hales, from 
158 erains of Newcastle coal, obtained 180 cubic inches 
of gas,—rather more than is now produced in the large 
way. This account was published in 1726, and the 
only object of the experiment was to ascertain the 
a of the gas; but if a letter written by Dr. 

John Clayton, without a date, and published in the 
Philos phital Transactions’ of 1739, were actually 
addressed to the Honourable Kobert Boyle, as stated 
upon the original manuscript lu ihe Britisn Muscum, 
coal-was was made, and its inflammability ascertained, 
many years previous to Hales’s experiment, as Boyle 
died in 1691, 

Dr. Clayton’s experiments were suggested by the 
Burning Well at Wigan: he not only distilled the cas, 
which he called the spirit of coal, but he filled bladders 
with it, and frequently ainused his friends by burning 
it like a candle. The application of this inflammability 
to any useful purpose scems, however, not to have 
occurred to any person; and this is one of the many 
examples of the inattention of even philosophical and 
observing men to the useful and important discoveries 
almost thrown in their way. J*or many ages, the 
attractive property of amber, when rubbed, was known 
before the electrie fluid thus excited was brought into 
more iutense action. ‘The meeniying power of elobes 
of glass was seen by the philosophers of Rome eighteen 
centuries avo, but no one dreamed of telescopes or 
microscopes. fn hke manner seal engraving, and the 
art of impressing letters and figures on wax and 
clay, were in practice twenty ceuturies before the 
unknown Dutchman or German first thought of using 
the art of impression as a means of multiplying the art 
of writing. 

Subsequently to these early notices, many distin- 
cuished chemists have examined the properties of coal- 
eas, but to not one of them does it appear to have 
occurred that the brilliant light afforded would be use- 
ful in an economical point of view. The merit of this 
idea must be ascribed wholly to Mr. Murdoch, who, a 
century after the experiments of Dr. Clayton, first 
applied coal-ras to any real use by lighting with it 
his house and offices at Redruth in Cornwall. This 
was in 1792. Five years afterwards, when resideut in 
Ayrshire, he made a similar usc of gas; and, in 1798, 
he partially liehted with it the mannfactor y of Messrs, 
Boulton and Watt, at Soho, near Birmingham, But 
the public attention was first drawn to the subject mn 
1802, when, in consequence of the gencral rejoicing 
at the peace of Amiens, it was determined to use gas 
for the purpose of illumination in front of the extensive 
range of buildings at Soho. The cxperiment succeeded 
perfectly, and the light was disposed in the tasteful and 
varied forms of which eas 1s so susceptible. The 
spectacle afforded was as beautiful as it was new to the 
public, and the numerous population of Birmingham 
eame out to gaze and be delighted at the extraordinary 


o 
display of taste and brilliance. Mr. Murdoch, sub- 
sequently, in 1806, received the gold medal of the 
Royal Society, for a communication detailing the suc- 
cessful crection of a gas-ap pparatus for thie manufactory 
and dwelling-house of Mr. “Lee at Manchester. - 

The public attention in London was shortly after 
this drawn to the subject by a German named Winsor, 
who delivered lectures 
interesting experiments at the Lyceum theatre. Winsor 
was a persevering and sanguine man, but deficieut in 


chemical and mechanical knowledge. 


‘THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


and exhibited: a. number of 


[Sepremper 27, 


time that his exhibitions and lectures excited attention, 
the confidence of the public was withheld in consequence 
of the absurd pretensions put forth by him, and his 
ionorance of the theory of his subject. As a speciinen 
of his pretensions we need only mention that his 
advertisements promised a saving of 1000 per cent. 
by the burning of mere smoke,—that the new light 


ae) 
might be heals to ascend in columns to the clouds, and 


descend in showers from the trees »—and that one crystal 
globe would produce light and heat enough for the 
largest room in winter. ” His chemical knowledge may 
be inferred from his printed statements, that pure 
hydrogen is the uourisher of life and flame, cad that an 
escape of eas Into a room cannot be dangerous, because 
the mixture of atmospheric air would prevent explosion, 
The gas cmployed in his exhibitions was burned in an 
impure state, aud was, In consequence, very offensive to 
{he smell; this, with some other circumstances, caused 
a prejudice against gas at the time, which must have 
operated in delaying its general adoption; though it is 
but fair to say that the perseverance of Mr. Winsor was 
very instrumental in making it known. 

In 1804 he obtained a patent as Inventor of was, and 
published a prospectus of a National Light and Heat 
Company, representiug that, by a deposit of only 52., 
each subscriber would secure a handsome fortune, which 
he estimated wonld amount at least to 5700. per annum, 
and might, probably, be ten timcs that sum. Notwith- 
standing any distrust that might have been caused by 
the circumstances above mentioned, the promise of 
such a vast profit excited the cupidity of many, and 
it is stated that nearly 50,000/. were subscribed in 
furtherance of Winsor’s schemes. But this sum was 
wholly expended in costly experiments, in ineffectual 
attempts to purify was, and m public exhibitious of its 
effect in lighting streets. ‘Lhe first attempt was in 
1807; in that year Pall-Mall was lighted up with eas, 
and it continued for some years to be the only street 
in London so illuminated. In 1809, the National 
Light and Heat Company applied to Parliament for 
an act to incorporate them, but were opposed by Mr. 
Murdoch, on the ground of priority of discovery: a 
great deal of evidence was adduced, and a charter was 
refused. In the following year another application was 
made to Parliament, which was this time successful, 
though the powers granted to the Company were muclt 
below what they had- asked im their first application. 
By the Act then granted, their capital was limited to 
200,000/. ;—they werc to contract with the parishes of 
the metropolis to furnish light at a cheaper rate than 
the usual mode of lighting with oil ;—they were not to 
exercise auy of the powers granted until 100,000/. 
should be raised;—and the whole sum must be sub- 
scribed within three years of the date of their charter. 

Hitherto the Company had confined their attempts 
to Pall-Mall; but when they became a chartered body 
they purchased premises in Cannon Row, Westminster, 
and proceeded to make experiments on so large a scale 
that the subscribed funds were soon nearly exhausted : 
the subscribers began to be dissatished, and some 
alterations in the management were 1n consequence 
insisted upon. A new charter was obtained in 1812 
for the period of twenty-one ycars, on the same condi- 
tions as before, and the Company, though making 
little or no profit, steadily pursued their course. About 
this time they engaged the services of Mr. Clegg, who 
had been for some years engaged in erecting e@as-ap- 
paratns in Birmingham, and established two separate 
stations, in addition to that which they had hitherto 
worked in Westminster. Onc of their new stations was 
at the Curtain Road, and the other at Brick Lane. 
In three or four years from this time the Company 
began to realize the profitable effects of their exertions 3 


At the same | the utility of gas was becoming daily more obvious, and 


1834.] 


the current of public opinion was turning rapidly in its 
favour. Applications were made for private lights from 
various parts of the metropolis, and in many streets the 
old oil-lamps were quite discarded as public lights. In 
1816, the extent of their operations requiring an increase 
of capital, the Company obtained leave from Parliament 
to augment their capital to 400,000/., which has since 
increased to 900,000/. In.1823, when a parliamentary 
investigation was made as to the propriety of placing 
all gas eompanies under immediate legislative control, 
the annual consumption of coal by the chartered Com- 
pany was 20,678 chaldrons, producing, on an average, 
680,000 feet of gas every night, which was distributed 
through the netropolis by means of 122 miles of pipe, 
—supplying upwards of 30,000 burners, and giving a 
light equal to more than 30,000 lbs. of tallow candles. 
The whole quantity of gas supplied by the other esta- 
blishinents then in existence scarcely reached the amount 
supplied by the chartered Company: but such has 
been the increase of gas-lighting in the ten years since 
elapsed, that this particular Company have at least tripled 
their produce; while the whole of the gas companies in 
London are estimated to consume 200,000 chaldrons of 
coal per annum; and to distribute through nearly 600 
miles of pipe the enormous quantity of 7,000,000 of 
cubic feet of gas every twenty-four hours, on an average 
of the whole year, giving a light equal to what would 
be obtained from 300V,000 Ibs. of candles. 

While gas was slowly and with difficulty strugeling 
into notice in London, it was making rapid strides in 
the manufacturing districts of England. Mr. Clegg, 
who, in 1813, entered the service of the chartered Com- 
pany, had, as early as the year 1805, erected a very 
effective @as-apparatus at Halifax ; and Mr. Pemberton, 
besides lighting his own manufactory, fitted up a very 
complete establishment in an extensive button manu- 
factory at Birmingham, so perfectly answering the 
ends proposed,—which were not only to light the manu- 
factory, but to supply heat also for soldering,—that the 
works have been in constant use from that time, and 
have required but few alterations and repairs since. 
Several other gas-works, erected about the same time, 
in Birmingham, by Mr, Pemberton, are still in use; 
and, although some improvements have been made in 
them, they mostly retain the orginal form in which 
they were erected. ‘he success which had attended 
gas-making in the provinces was communicated to 
London, and the rapid and complete success of the 
practice in London again acted upon the provinces. 
It may now be asserted that there is hardly a single 
provincial town of any importance which is not pro- 
vided with an efficient gas establishment. 


[To be continued.} 


ADMINISTRATION OF JUSTICE IN OTANEITE, 


Tue code of laws (formed by the missionaries) is not very 
voluminons. Murder and treason are the only two capital 
crimes. Theft is usnally punished by a four-fold restitution, 
generally in hogs, half of which is forfeited to the person 
from whom the articles have been stolen, aud the other half 
to the king. Fornication, Sabbath-breaking, and other 
comparatively minor delinquencies, are punished by the 
offender being obliged to bestow a proportionate quantity of 
labour on some public work,—such as making or repairing 
a portion of aroad. If the culprit should be a female, she 
is obliged to make a quantity of native cloth. 

Being on the subject of laws, the description of a trial 
which took place very shortly after our arrival may not be 
amiss. The Judges are called “ Aavah,” which name is, 
however, applied to all persons invested with legal authority, 
from the lord-chief-justice down to the lowest constable, 
except that the word “* Rai,” or “ Great,” is added when 
speaking of the former, and also to all district judges. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


3793 


Justice is generally administered under some large spread- 
ing tree; in the present instance, the scene of the transac- 
tion was just in front of the house of the English Consul, 
and opposite the ship. The culprit had been detected having 
In his possession part of a gown belonging to an English 
lady, the sister-in-law to the Consul; and he readily con- 
fessed that he had stolen it out of her room while the family 
were at church, by introducing a hooked stick through the 
blinds, which, not being of the finest manufacture, readily 
admitted the gown to be drawn through. Notwithstanding 
his confession, it was necessary that he should undergo the 
trial, and have sentence regularly passed upon him. Little 
examination was, however, needed; for any one is allowed 
to condenin liumself, and the judges are not sorry to be thus 
spared much of the trouble of investigation. A number of 
Aavahs of different ranks were assembled, having in their 
hands the pamphlet containing the laws; and one, who was 
judge of the district, after a short speech of admonition, con- 
demned the culprit to pay four large hogs ;—two to the lady, 
and two tothe king. A slight attempt at form made the scene 
appear to us still more ludicrous than it otherwise might, 
The Aayahs, none of whom had any trowsers, were mostly 
dressed in a coat, waistcoat, shirt, and neckerchief; and they 
also wore a large and neatly made Pooraui mat, which ap- 
peared to be their exclusive privilege. A provost-marshal, 
with a bare rusty sword, and a marine’s coat, with -one or 
two other attendants, did not make much addition to the 
solemnity of tHe scene. 

'wo witnesses are required to condemn a man for any: 
heinous offeuce; but no member of the church can be 
brought to trial without being first excommunicated, or 
scratched off the books. They have no juries, as they — 
would not at present be able to understand the system, but 
the attendance of many inferior Aavahs is required, with the 
view of securing justice to the accused, who is allowed to 
go at liberty, even without bail, both before and after trial. 
The “ Aavah Rai” wear a sort of high head dress, the flat 
front of which is ornamented with feathers, while from the 
hinder part hangs a quantity of long human hair. The 
frame of this head-piece is of wicker-work; and I under- 
stood that it was the ancient war-cap, which, from its impe- 
netrability, appears probable.—MS. Journal of a Voyage of 
Discovery. 


‘THE CASTLE OF HASTINGS, WITH THE 
CHAPEL OF THE VIRGIN MARY. 


Upon a lofty rocky cliff, to the westward of the town 
of Hastings, there are some remains of a large and 
very ancient castle. At what period or by whom it 
was erected is not stated by Leland, Camden, or any 
writer who has treated of our topographical antiquities. 
But from its situation, which must have been particn- 
larly favourable to the ancient mode of fortification, it 
is more than probable that a fortress existed here long 
before that which the Danish rovers, under Hastings 
their leader, are said to have constructed. ‘This con- 
jecture receives some support from a passage in the 
‘ Chlironicles of Dover Monastery,’ printed in Leland’s 
‘ Collectanea,’ which says, ‘* that when Arviragus threw 
off the Roman yoke, it is likely he fortified those places 
which were most convenient for their invasion, nainely, 
Richborough, Walmer, Dover, and Hastings.” Bishop 
Lyttleton, however, was inclined to think that here was 
originally a Roman fortress, built as a defence against 
the invasion of the pirates. He further observes, that 
although William the Conqueror, as we are told, ran 
up a fort at Hastings just before his engagement with 
Harold, this could-1ct have been his work, asit would 
have requifed more time and labour than his circum- 
stances would tlien have allowed; and concludes that 
William might probably have repaired the old Jtoman 
castle and have placed a garrison in it. In the ° iis- 
tory of Canterbury,’ written by Eadmer, 1t appears 
that, in the year 1090, almost all the bishops and nobles 
of England were assembled by royal authority at the 
castle of Hastings, to pay personal homage to King 
William I1, before his ‘departure for Normandy 


376 


Little more concerning this castle is mentioned in 
history, except that within its walls there was a free 
royal chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary, in which 
was a dean with several secular canons and preben- 
daries. It is supposed to have been founded by one of 
the earls of Eu while proprietor of the castle. Prynne, 
as quoted by. Grose, records various circumstances 
relative to a dispute between King Edward III. and 
the Bishop of Chichester and Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, concerning the right claimed by them of visiting 
this chapel, which, however, in the reign of Henry VLI., 
was placed under the jurisdiction of the former of 
these prelates. At the dissolution, in the reign of 
Henry VIII, the deanery was valned at 201. per 
annum, and the seven prebends at 41/. 13s. 5d.; and 
the whole was, a few years after, granted by the same 
king to Sir Anthony Browne. It appears, by a patent 
of Kdward III, that the dean had licence to build 
himself a mansion within the walls of the castle. 

What remains of the castle approaches nearest in 
shape to two sides of an oblique spherical tnangle, 
having the points rounded off. ‘The base, or .south 
side next the sea, completing the triangle, .is formed by 
a perpendicular craggy cliff about 400 feet in length, 
upon which are no vestiges of walls or other forti- 
fication. The east side is made by a plain wall mea- 
suring near 300‘feet, without tower or defence of any 
kind. The adjoining side, which faces the north-west, 
is about 400 feet lone. The area included is about 
an acre and one-fifth. The walls, nowhere entire, are 
about eight feet thick. The gateway, now demolished, 
was on ‘the north side, near the northernmost anele. 


Not far from it, to the west, are the remains of a small 


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'@,° The Office 0 of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, nce Inn Fields, 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET.: _ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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| 0 ee seseae Nat 





{St. Mary’ é Aer Petings, a and Wns of Castle on the Cliff.) = st} ye 


[SepTEMBER 27, 1834. 


tower, enclosing a circular flight of stairs; and, still 
farther westward, a sally-port and the ruins of another 
tower. On the east side, at the distance of about 100 
feet, ran a ditch, 100 feet in breadth at the top, and 60 
feet deep; but both the ditch, and the interval between 
it and the wall, seem to have gradually narrowed as 
they approached the gate, under which they terminated. 
On the north-west side there was another ditch of the 
same breadth, commencing at the chff opposite to the 
westernmost angle, and bearing away almost due north, 
leaving a level intermediate space which, opposite to 
the sally -port, was 180 feet in breadth. 

The castle, together with the rape of Hastings, which 
always accompanied it, underwent many changes of 
proprietors until the year 1461, when the estate came 
into the possession of Sir William Hastings, on whom 
the title of Lord Hastings was bestowed by Edward IV. 
This was the nobleman ‘whose naine has been rendered 
so familiar by the histories of England, Shakspeare’s 
play of Richard III., and the romances about Jane 
Shore. When the fidelity of Lord Hastings to the 
children of Edward IV. cost ‘him’ his: life, his estates 
were forfeited to the crown; but they were restored 
to his son by Henry VII., and confirmed to him by 
Henry VILI. - By one of: his descendatits, Who were 
invested with the earldom of Huntingdon, the- castle 
of Hastings: was sold, together with the manors of 
Crawhurst, Burwash, and Berelham, to Thomas Pel- 
ham, Esq, to whom: the perpetuity was confirmed by 
James I. in 1605. In his family it Nas ‘ever ‘since 
remained, and: at present’ belongs to the Earl of Chi- 
chester, to whose father it was betuaesiiey by the first 
Deg of Newcastlg 3 


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Monthly Supplement of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





160.1] August 31 to September 30, 1834. 





HOGARTH AND HIS WORKS.—No. VI. 





THE RAKE’S PROGRESS. 


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enemies 





Vou, III, 3 C 


378 


‘© Riches, like insects, when conceal’d they lie, 
Wait but for wings, and in their season fly. 
Who sees pale Mammon pine amidst his store, 
Sees but a backward steward for the poor ; 
This year a reservoir, to keep and spare ; 
The next a fountain, spouting through his herr, 
In lavish streams to quench a country’s thirst, 
And men and dogs shall drink him till they burst.” 


Pope, 
ever threw his thoughts into verse, has thus described 
the natural and common succession of. Prodigality to 
Avarice. Hogarth has painted the consequences of 
this succession, and, we think, with greater truth than 
the poet has described them. 

The miser is dead;—his herr comes to open the 
“ reservoir.” The man who, when living, denied him- 
self a coat,—whose old shoes are patchetl with a piece 
cut out*of the cover of the family-bible,—is honoured 
“ with customary suits” of: black and escutcheons when 
he is dead, The undertaker is covering the muiser’s 
room with these preparations for ‘‘ lying in state;” the 
heir is being measured for his mourning garments. 
The strong chests are opened; the conveyances, the 
mortgage-deeds, the bonds, are exposed to view; the 
money-bags are explored; the secret hoards are found 
in the crazy walls. Up to the moment when he took 
to his bed, and left his crutches against his comfortless 
chimney,—a monument of“. the ruling passion strong 
in death,”—the avaricious man was intent to save.’ For 
years the meat-jack had been put away in the cup- 
board to rest,—for years the hearth had sent forth no 
comfortable blaze :— 


“ Tenants with sighs the smokeless towers survey, 
And turn th’ unwilling steeds another way ; 

. Benighted wanderers the forest o’er 
Curse the saved candle and unopeu’d door.” 


The heir will change all. No longer will the old crone, 
who is about to kindle the unaccustomed fire, be called 
upon to put the rush-light in the save-all; no longer 
will the starved cat pry into every hole for a morsel of 
food; no longer will the journal ef the master of that 
house record such a fact as “‘ May the 5th, 1721, put 
off my bad shilling.’ ‘The heaps of gold are no longer 
to beesecretly @azed upon, or applied to produce other 
heaps of gold: they are open to the day;—they are 
ready for the hard-featured man of business to purloin 
while he makes his inventory, and for the unhappy 
youth to abuse at the first moment when he takes pos- 
session of them. He has become familiar with vice, 
even under the severe discipline of his avaricious father, 
Perhaps that severe discipline has driven him to vice; 
certainly the want of contidence which must have sub- 
sisted between the father and the son must have con- 
firmed his evil propensities, if it did not call them forth. 
He-is a destroyer of female honour, The mother of 
the unfortunate girl whom he has tempted from the 
path of modesty exhibits his letters to her wretched 
daughter, who herself displays the ring which he had 
riven her as a pledge of affection. ‘The written words, 
and the more impressive symbol of vows and-confidence, 
are despised. He has become the master of gold, and 
he offers gold in reparation. He has already formed a 
false estimate of the power.of riches. He fancies that 
they can procure him not only outward pleasures but 
inward peace; that they can stand in the place of that 
satisfaction which results from the performance of our 
duty. We shall see where this mistake leads him. 
The delusion which he has indulged in abusing that 
confidence of woman, which is at the bottom of the 
holiest and purest affections of our nature ;—the delusion 
which he is still indulging in fancying that he can 
bestow peace, either upon his partner in evil or upon 
himself, by a money-payment, as the price of outra~ed 
feelings,—wilf become habitual. He, is entering upon 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


{SEPTEMBER 30, 


systematic vice: his previous faults may have been 
those of ill-direeted impulses; his possession of wealth 
converts those impulses into principles. 

An eloquent moral and” philosophical writer, Dr. 
Chalmers, has strikinely described the power and 
operation of habit upon vicious inclinations: *‘ He who 
enters on a career of vice, enters on a career of headlong 


one of the keenest observers of human life that | degeneracy. If even for once we have described [gone 


through] that process of thought and feeling which 


| leads, whether through the imagination or the senses, 


from the first presentation of a tempting object to a 
euilty indulgence, this of itself establishes a pro- 
bability that, on the recurrenre of that object, we shall 
pass onward by the same steps to the same consumma- 
tion. And it is a probability ever strengthening with 
every repetition of the process, til] at length it advances 
towards the moral certainty of a helpless surrender to 
the tyranny of those evil passions which we cannot 
resist, just because the will itself is in thraldom, and 
we choose not to resist them. It is thus that we might 
trace the progress of intemperance and licentionsness, 
and even of dishonesty, to whose respective solicitations 
we have yielded at the first, till, by continuing to yield, 
we become the passive, the prostrate subjects of a force 
that is uncontrollable only because we have seldom or 
never in good earnest tried to control it. It is not that 
we are struck of a sudden with moral impotency; but 
we are gradually benumbed into it. The power ort 
temptation has not made instant, seizure upon the 
faculties, or taken them by.storm. It proceeds by an 
influence that is gently and almost insensibly pro- 
eressive,—just as progressive, in truth, as the associa- 
tion between particular ideas is strengthened by the 
frequency of their succession. But even as that associa- 
tion may at length become inveterate, insomuch that 
when the first idea finds entry into the mind, we cannot 
withstand the importunity wherewith the second insists 
upon following it; so might the moral habit become 
alike inveterate,—thoughts succeeding thoughts,—and 
urging onward their counterpart desires in that wonted 
order which had hitherto connected the beginning of a 
temptation with its full and final victory. At each 
repetition would we find it more difficult to break this 
order, or to lay an arrest upon it; till at length, as the 
fruit. of this wretched regimen, its unhappy patient is 
lorded over by a power of moral evil, which possesses 
the whole man, and wields an irresistible, or rather an 
ope ses ascendency over him *.” 


Mr. Charles Lamb, in his exquisite ‘Essay on the 
Genius and Character of Hogarth,’ which we have so 
frequently quoted, says, ‘‘ | have sometimes entertained 
myself with comparing the ‘Timon of Athens’ of 
Shakspeare, and Hogarth’s ‘ Rake’s Progress’ together. 
The, story,—the moral,—in .both is nearly the same. 
The wild course of riot and extravagance ending in the 
one with driving the Prodigal from the society of men 
into the solitude of the deserts; and, in the other, with 
conducting the Rake through his several stages of dis- 
sipation into the still more complete desolations of the 
mad-house, in the play and in the picture are described 
with almost equal force and nature. ‘The levee of the 
Rake, which forms the subject of the second plate in 
the series, is almost a transcript of Timon’s levee in the 
opening scene of that play.” 

It appears to us that, although there are many points 
of similarity between the characters of: Timon and the 
Rake, there are also many of contrast. These dif- 
ferences, we think, are sufficiently striking, even in the 
second plate of the series, “ transeript” as it un- 
doubtedly is of some passages in Timon’s levee. In 
Hogarth, the Rake is surrounded by persons of various 
qualifications and degrees, who, however they. may all 

“ € Chalmers’ Bridgewater Treatise,’ vol. i. p. 142, 


1834] 


assist him in spending his inheritance, have very dif- 
ferent talents to exchange for his money. The hero 1s 
in his morning gown, attending to a bully who has 
brought a letter of introduction: the ruffian grasps his 
sword in one hand and places the other upon his breast. 
The Rake is supposed to have rivals to be secretly 
removed,—affronts to be wiped out by a stab in the 
dark. Such practices could be scarcely said to belong 
to England even in Hogarth’s day, loose as were the 
morals of that period, and inefficient the police. ‘The 
character, however, might have existed; but he is 
rone. "Those, now, upon whom Nature has stainped 
the disposition of the bravo have taken to another pro- 
fession, which is safer: they have become writers for 
the baser portion of the press. ‘They destroy the peace 
of families by the slanders which they invent for some 
Sunday mediey of indecency and scandal; or, as 
their daily task, defile some illustrious reputation,—the 
euttle-fish, who make the waters in which a public man 
swims cloudy for a moment, and then rush to their ho.es 
till they have secreted another inky fount, ready to pro- 
duce another puddle. Such people belong to our 
times; they have superseded the hired bully of the last 
century. In front of the Rake is a jockey exhibiting a 
bowl which his master’s race-horses are supposed to 
have won: this, and two pictures of fighting-cocks on 
the wall; show that he has become initiated in those 
most expensive modes of gambling, racing and cock- 
fichting. Amongst the group of candidates for his 
approbation there is a prize-fighter of the day, who has 
come to teach him the science of quarter-staff: boxing 
had not then become a fashionable accomplishment. 
Close by the prize-fighter is a French fencing-master, 
making a thrust with his foil, and exhibiting.the most 
perfect self-complacency; and in advance of him 1s a 
dancing-master, the very perfection of puppyism. In 
the back-ground, behind the bully, is a fellow winding 
a French-horn. But amongst this singular group there 
are two portraits, which show that the vanity of the 
Rake led him to cultivate higher tastes than the jockey 
or the -prize-fighter could inspire. ‘The great. Handel, 
waiting to give his lessons, is absorbed by his own per- 
formance at the harpsichord: his back is only seen, but 
there is no doubt that Hogarth meant to introduce the 
‘immortal composer of ‘ The Messiah.’ The other 
portrait is that of Bridgeman, a celebrated layer-out of 
erounds, or landscape-gardener, of. that day. ‘The 
object of the painter was to exhibit the various modes 
in which a prodigal may expend his substance, even in 
pursuits in themselves praiseworthy :— : 


“ What brought Sir Visto’s ill-got wealth to waste ? 
Some demon whisper’d,—‘ Visto, have a taste.’ . 
Heaven visits with a taste the wealthy fool, 

And needs no rod but Ripley with a rule*.” 


The ante-chamber is filled with tailors and wig-makers ; 
and a poet is there, spouting his own verses. ‘I’his is 
the key to the resemblance which Mr. Lamb saw 
between the levee of Hogarth’s Rake ‘and that of 
Shakspeare’s Timon. In the latter we have the poet, 
the painter, the jeweller to sell his diamond, and the 
merchant ; but here, we think, the resemblance stops. 
Hogarth’s Rake is all sensuality and selfishness; even 
what is intellectual about him is only brought there for 
the gratification of. his vanity. But Timon is essentially 
high-minded and generous. He addresses the poet and 


the painter as one who understands the arts which they 


profess, and with the kindness and ease of a gentleman, 
without any of the pretensions of a patron. He pur- 
chases the diamond of the jeweller, not for himself, but 
to bestow it on a friend; the wares of the merchant are 
devcted to the same purpose, by the same exuberant 


* ¢ Pope’s Moral Epistles,’—~Ripley was an architect of the time 
of Queen Anne. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


379 


eenerosity, At the levee of Timon he is told that one 
whom he regards is sent to prison. He exclaims,— 


‘“ T am not of that feather to shake off 
My friend when he most needs me. I do know him 
A gentleman that well deserves a help, 
Which he shall have: I’ll pay the debt and free him.” 


Again: an old Athenian comes to Timon to complain 
that his servant aspires to marry his daughter, and that 
he, being rich, rejects the suit. ‘Timon thus answers :— 


“ This gentleman of mine hath served me long; 
To build his fortune I will strain a hittle, 
For ’tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter: 
What you bestow,in him [ll counterpoise.”’ 


All this, indeed, might be ostentation in some men: , 
but in Timon it was a generosity thoughtless and 
unjust, for it plunged him into debt and ruin ;—but 
still not in the slightest degree parallel with the gross 
selfishness of Hogarth’s Rake. In the fall of Timon, 
we sympathize with his sufferings and his hatred of his 
false friends ;—in the destruction of Hogarth’s Rake 
we own that the judgment which pursues him is a 
righteous one. 

There can be no mistake as to the propensities of the 
hero of this series of prints; they are essentially low 
and degrading. ‘The third plate exhibits him in a state 
of the most beastly drunkenness, in a night-tavern of 
London. He has beaten the watchman, and brought 
off his lantern as a trophy of victory; and he is now 
surrounded with abandoned women, who are rifling his 
pockets. It is not for us to describe this scene: Ho- 
earth only could have painted it. 

The question for us to ask at this stage of the ‘ Rake’s 
Progress’ is, What has the unhappy rich man obtained 
by the improper application of his riches? He has cast 
away the affection of a being who loved him; he has 
surrendered himself to the indulgence of every desire 
which his passions and his vanity have prompted; he. 
has sounded the depths of the lowest profligacy, as it 
were in despair of finding excitement enough in the 
peculiar vices of his own station. Has he found any 
happiness? Has he not rather found not only the 
stunning consciousness of wrong-doing, but positive 
pain even in that wrong-doing? The nature of this 
positive pain of evil conduct has been well put by Dr. 
Chalmers, in the work we have already quoted :—“ in 
counterpart to the sweets and satisfactions of virtue, is 
the essential and inherent bitterness of all that is morally 
evil. We repeat, that, with this particular argument, 
we do not mix up the agonies of remorse. It is the 
wretchedness of vice in itself, not the wretchedness 
which we suffer because of its recollected and felt 
wroneness, that we now speak of. * * * * Who can 
doubt, for example, the unhappiness of the habitual 
drunkard? and that, although the ravenous appetite, 
by which he is driven along a stormy career, meets 
every day, almost every hour of the day, with the gra- 
tification that is suited to it. The same may be equally. 
affirmed of the voluptuary, or of the depredator, or of 
the extortioner, or of the liar. Each may succeed in 
the attainment of his specific object; and we cannot 
possibly disjoin from the conception of success, the 
conception of some sort of pleasure; yet in perfect con- 
sistency we affirm, with a sad and heavy burthen of 
unpleasantness or unhappiness on the whole. He is 
little conversant with our nature who does not know of 
many a passion belonging to it, that it may be the in- 
strument of many pleasurable, nay, delicious or exqul- 
site sensations, and yet be a wretched passion still ; 
the domineering tyrant of a bondsman, who at once 
knows himself to be degraded, and feels himself to be 
unhappy.’ * : | - 
- We are arrived at the point of the ° Rake’s Progress, 


* ¢ Chalmers’ Bridgewater Treatise,’ vol. a p- 105 
3 


380 


when, having run through a long course of prodigality, 
the foun of retribution is arriving in the form of pecw- 
niary embarrassment. In this course of prodigality he 
has greatly injured himself; has he benefited others? 
Pope, who lived at a time when there were very false 
notions abroad in the world as to the effects of profuse 
expenditure upon the condition of society, makes the 
miser “a backward steward for the poor.’ He was the 
“yeservoir;” his heir is the “fountain ”’ who is to slake 
Pa country’s thirst.” ‘The same poet, in his description 
of ‘* Timon’s villa,” falls into the same mistake. Here 


“ All cry out, what sums are thrown away !” 
and yet, according to the satirist, 


en ence the poor are etind. the hungry fed, 
’. Flealth to himself, and to his ‘niftin tt bread, 
' The labourer bears.’’ 


Whatever may be the temporary and local effects when 

‘sums are thrown away” upon those who live, or ap- 
pear to live, wpon the follies of others, there can be 
no doubt that the enduring and veneral benefits of 
judicious expenditure —of what i is truly called ‘° profit- 
able expenditure "—are of infinitely greater importance 
to the community. The poet felt this himself; but 
he was blinded by the notion of ‘his day, that unless 
the rich were profuse, the poor would starve. He says, 
in the same epistle in which he thinks that the “ sums 
thrown ¢ away ” afford the labourer bread, 


« Bid harbours open, public ways extend, 
Bid temples worthier of the god ascend ; 

Vid the broad arch the dangerous flood contain 
The mole projected break the roaring main ; 
Back to his bounds the subject sea command, 
And roll obedient rivers through the land.” 


Such are some of the modes in which aati can be 
judiciously expended ;—and whatever is saved from a 
wanton consumption of wealth goes to increase the 
capital of the community, and to become the source of 
those public conveniences which enable. all capital to 
work more profitably, and of those. public monuments 
of the higher feelings of our nature, which elevate the 
character” of individuals and of nations. ~ We quote a 
parallel between the expenditure of a prodigal and the 
expenditure of a high-minded citizen, from a little work 
published by the Society for the Diffusion of Useful 
Knowledge :— | 

“There are many who. thinik that accumulation is a 
positive evil, and that consumption is a positive benefit ; 
and, therefore, that economy is an evil, and waste a 
benefit, -'The course of a prodigal man is by many still 
viewed with considerable admiration. He sits up.all 
night in frantic riot—he consumes whatever can stimu- 
late his satiated appetite—he i is waited upon by a crowd 
of unproductive and equally riotous retainers—he breaks 
and destroys everything around him with an unsparing 
hand—he rides his horses to death in the most extrava- 
gant attempts to wrestle with time and space; and 
when he has spent all his substance in these excesses, 
and dies an outcast and a beggar, he is said to have 
been a hearty fellow, and to have ‘made good for 
trade.’ When, on the contrary, a man of fortune 
economizes his revenue—lives like a virtuous and 
reasonable being, whose first duty is the cultivation of 
his understanding —eats and drinks with a regard to 
his health—keeps no more retainers than are sufficient 
for his proper comfort and decency—breaks and destroys 
nothing—has respect to the inferior animals, as well 
from motives of prudence dies with- 
out a mortgage on his lands; he is said to have been a 
stingy fellow, who did not know how to $ circulate his 
money. ‘To ‘ circulate money,’ to ‘ make good for 
trade,’ in the once common meaning of the terms, is 
for one to consume unprofitably what, if economized, 





would have stimulated production in a way that would 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[SepremBER 30, 


have enabled hundreds, instead of one, to consume 
profitably. We will give you two historical examples 
of these two opposite modes of making goo for trade 
and circulating money. The Duke of “Buckingham, 
‘having been possessed of about 50,0002. a year, died, 
in 1687, in a remote inn in Yorkshire, reduced to the 
utmost misery*.’ After a life of the most wanton riot, 
which exhausted all his princely resources, he was left 
at the last hour, under circumstances which are well 
described in the following lines by Pope :— 





‘In the worst inn’s worst room, with mat half hung, 
The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, 
On once a flock bed, but repair’d with straw, 
With tape-tied curtains never meant to draw, . 
The George and Garter dangling from that bed 
Where tawdry yellow strove we | red ; 
Great Villiers hes. * : 

No wit to flatter left of all hig store, 

No fool to laugh at, which he valued more, 
There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, 
And fame, this lord of useléss thousands erds.’ 


Contr ast the course of. this unhappy man with that of 
the Duke of. Bridgewater, who devoted, his property to 
really ‘ making good for .trade,’ by constructing the 
ereat canals which connect Manchester with the coal 
countries, and with Liverpool. The Duke of Buck- 
ingham lived in a round of sensual folly : the Duke of 
diets oe limited his personal expenditure to 400/. 

a year, and devoted all the remaining portion of his 
revenues to the construction of a magnificent work of 
the highest.public utility. ‘The one supported a train 
of cooks, and valets, and horse-jockeys: the other called 
into action the labour of thousands, and employed in 
the direction of that labour the skill of Brindley, the 
oreatest engineer that any country has produced. The 
one died without a penny, loaded with debt, leaving no 
trace behind him but the ruin which his waste had pro- 
duced: the other bequeathed almost the largest pro- 
perty in Europe to his descendants, and opened a 
channel for industry which afforded, and still affords, 
employment to thousands." | 





The fourth picture of the ‘Rake’s Progress’ repre- 
sents the commencement of the penal consequences of 
crime—those consequences which are direct and positive, 
and which alone are deeply felt’ by the habitual pro- 
flizate. In -this picture the Rake is represented as 
arrested for debt. He is proceeding to court on a gala: 
day—for private depravity amongst men does not debar” 
them from the customary honours of their station—and 
his chair is stopped by a sheriff's officer, By one of 
those chances which rather belong to romance tlian to 
real life, the young’ woman whom the hero of the tale 
had so deeply injured is passing by. She has clung 
to a virtuous and reputable course of life; she has 
saved money; and with the generosity that belongs to 
woman, she at once devotes her earnings to the release 
of her betrayer. . In point of character and composition 
this, if not one of the: most striking of Hogarth’s 
works, is singularly excellent.. .The surprise of the 
profligate in being taught: this practical lesson of the 
effects of his imprudénce—the earnest simplicity of the 
female:who shows the means of his release—the stern 
and: peremptory mandate of the sheriff's officer—all” 
these are. represented most skilfully. Nor are the ac- 
cessories of the picture less valuable. Hogarth has in- 
troduced an episode which forcibly illustrates the great 
moral which he constantly kept in view—that vice is a 
leveller of all distinctions. A knot of blackguard boys 
are gambling on the pavement: two are earnestly en- 
caged at cards; two others, one of whom is a shoe- 
black, are at dice; the shoe-black has lost his clothes, 
but unsated, he offers to stake his only means of indus- 
trious existence, his brushes and blacking-pot. The 


® Ruffhead’s ‘ Pope,’ 7 ‘Capital and Labour, 





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rake himself has gone through precisely the same temp- 
tations—and he has not resisted them. The scene of 
the dirty gamblers takes place before ‘ White’s,’ a cele- 
brated gaming-house of that day :—the moral is such 
as Hogarth only could have hit off. 


In the commencement of his career, the Rake spurned 
the ties of affection which, if properly strengthened, 
mieht have made his life happy, and saved him from 
misery and degradation. He has rejected the woman 
that he might have loved; he now plights his faith to 


one whom he weds for her riches only. In the fifth | 


plate of the series, he stands before the altar, placing 
the ring on the finger of a deformed and aged lady,— 
who, with folly equal:to his wuilt, believes that she can 
find happimess in such an ill-assorted union. In the 
back part of the scene, the injured young woman, to 
whom he had given his early vows, is entering the 
church, to forbid the solemnization of the marriage. 


The marriage-law of that day probably justified, or: 


appeared to justify, such an interruption. ‘here are 


several strokes of Hogarth’s peculiar humour in this _ 
picture ;—such as the creed destroyed by damp, the. 


commandments cracked, and the poor’s box covered ° 
j withal what a mass of woe is here accumulated !—the 


‘long -history of a mis-spent life is compressed into the 
‘countenance as plainly as the series of plates before 


over with a spider’s web. 


The Rake is again master of riches. How does he 
employ them? He has married to repair his fortunes : 


satiated with the dissipation that he delivered himself over 
to, he now rushes to the last and most perilous excite- , 
ment—the gaming-table—as another substitute for | 


honourable occupation. ‘The picture in which Hogarth 
represents this,—the final vice which leads to the .catas- 


trophe—is the sixth of the series. We here republish’ 


it. Never were the hateful effects of this demoniacal 
passion more forcibly delineated. The gambling-house 
here represented is one that would now be called low. 
Perhaps in Hogarth’s day fortunes were not lost and 
won amidst gilded saloons, where every luxury that can 
pamper the senses is administered to the devoted victims. 
The scene before us is certainly not such as is exhibited 
in the present times, when men of rank do not hesitate 
to enter a gambling-house in broad day, secure that the 
thin disguise of a Club may prevent the interruptions 
of a prying police, and believing, perhaps, that vice 
looks less hideous when she is ‘surrounded with mirrors 
that show her at full length. The gambling-house to 
which Hogarth has taken his hero is a wretched ‘den, 
Where crime and misery are already wedded even in 
externals, 


with the laced coat of him the world calls ‘* gentleman.” 
There is,no ballot for the admission ‘of sharpers with a 
pedigree, to the exclusion of sharpers without. The 
Rake is i the centre of the picture: he has staked his 
all, and has lost it. He is on his knees, imprecating 
vengeance on his bare head, from which, in his rage, 
he has stripped his periwig. He has overturned the 
chair on which he was sitting, and a dog is barking at 
his exhibition of impotent frenzy. On his right is 
another maddened victim, stamping and cursing, with 
clenched fists, ready to do the last bidding of despair. 
On his left, in a mute reverie of melancholy or mischief- 
planning, sits a highwayman, who has lost the fruits of 
his last crime: he is, perhaps, thinking deeply of the 
gallows, for the boy halloos to him in vain to take the 
liquor he has ordered. The highwayman is seated 
before a grated fire-place—a precaution not unnecessary 
in a place where the fiercest passions are let loose. In 
spite of such precaution, the room is on fire, and the 
watchman rushes in to alarm the inmates. With two ex- 
ceptions, the occupation of the gamesters is so absorbing, 
that none assist in putting out the flames, or think of 
escaping from the danger, The usurer is still lending 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


alienation of mind looking hke tranquillity. 


In this place there is no selection of com-: 
panions; pickpockets and highwaymen sit side, by side 


[SepremBer 80. 


money to a gamester whose substance is not quite ex- 
hausted ;—the winner of the stakes is still sweeping 
the golden heaps into his pocket ;—another infuriated 
loser is determined to murder the man who has ruined 
him, in spite of the common danger by which they are 
surrounded. All this is true to nature; and there is 
not a character or incident in the picture that may not 
be studied with advantage. 


The transition from the gaming-house to the prison 
is not a mere Straining after effect; one succeeds to 
the other by the most easy progression. The Rake is 
here,—but how changed. It is a remarkable instance 
of Hogarth’s power of delineating character, that in 
every shifting scene, with the furrows of years and 
crime and suffering upon his face, we can trace the 
identity of the unhappy hero of this story, from the 
first exhibition of heartless profligacy to the last 
manifestation of human woe. In prison we see the 
man prematurely old—surrounded by a complication 
of wréetchedness which has done its work upon him, 
and made the expression of his face one of the miost 
tragically striking in all Hogarth. ‘* Here,” says 
Mr. Lamb, “all is easy, natural, undistorted; but 


had told it. Here is no attempt at Gorgonian looks 
which are ‘to freeze the beholder, no grinming at the 
antique bed-posts*, no face-making, or consciousness 


of the presence of Spectators in or out of the picture ; 


but grief kept to a man’s self, a face retiring from 


| notice with the shame which great anguish sometimes 
brings with it;—a final leave taken of hope,—the 


coming on of vacancy and stupefaction,—a beginning 
: ” Certainly 
this masterly description is no exage¢eration of the won- 
derful merits of this figure. ‘The complexity of misery 
is indeed frightful. The profligate sits in the beggarly 
comimon-room of a London prison. A century has 
made a material difference both in the comforts and 
discipline of these places ;—but there is misery enough 
and vice enough within the-walls of a prison for debt, 
to make one wish that the time was past, when the 
unfortunate should be thus exposed to the contamina- 
tion of the wicked, and both should be shut out from 
the power of making an effort to repair the injury they. 
have caused to their creditors. In this wretched den 
there are, his wife assailing him with threats and re- 
proaches,—and the female whom he had _ betrayed, 
accompanied by her child, fainting at the sight of his 
accumulated misery. He had made an effort to exercise 
the talents which he in some degree possessed, by 
writing for the stage—the first resource of the sanguine 
author. The play is just returned from the manager, 
who has rejected it. The under-turnkey is pressing 
him for his fees ;—the pot-boy is demanding payment 
for the beer which he has called for without the means 
of purchasing it. In such a moment his brain becomes 
a chaos ;—the prison leads to the mad-house. To each 
print of this series Hogarth has affixed some lines of 
his own composition. They are not of the highest 
order—for it'is seldom given to one man to excel in 
two such different walks; but the verses are curious,— 
and a specimen (the one given with the plate of the 
‘ Prison-scene’) will not displease our readers :— 
“Happy the man, whose constant thought, 

(Tho’ in the school of hardship taught,) 

Can send remembrance back to fetch 

Treasures from jife’s earliest stretch ; 

Who, self-approving, can review 

Scenes of past virtues, that shine through 


* This is an allusion to Sir Joshua Reynolds’ picture of the 


Death of Cardinal Beaufort, 


1834.] 


The gloom of age, and cast a ray 

To gild the evening of his day. 

Not so the guilty wretch confin’d : 

No pleasures meet his roving mind, 
No blessings fetch’d from early youth, 
But broken Faith, and, wretched truth, 
Talents idle and unus’d, 

And every gift of heaven abus'd; 

In seas of sad reflection lost, 

From horrors still to horrors tost, 
Reason the vessel leaves to steer, 

And gives the helm to mad Despair.’ . 


The last print of this series is one of the most extra- 
ordinary productions of Hogarth’s pencil. It is thus 
described by Mr. Lamb :—“* The concluding scene in 
the * Rake’s Progress’ is perhaps superior to the last 
scenes of ‘ Timon.’ If we seek for something of Iin- 
dred excellence in poetry, in must be in the scenes of 
Lear’s beginning madness, where the King and the 
Fool and the Tom-o’-Bedlam conspire to produce such 
a medley of mirth checked by misery, and misery 
rebuked by mirth; where the society of those ‘ strange 
bed-fellows ’ which misfortune have brought Lear ac- 
quainted with, so finely sets forth the destitute state 
of the monarch, while the lunatic bans of the one, and 
the disjointed sayings and wild but pregnant allusions 
of the other, so wonderfully sympathize with that con- 
fusion, which they seem to assist in the production of, 
in the senses of that ‘ child-changed father.’ 

“In the scene in Bedlam, which terminates the 
‘ Rake’s Progress,’ we find the same assortment of the 
ludicrous with the terrible: Here is desperate inadness, 
the overturning of originally strong-thinking faculties, 
at which we shudder, as we contemplate the duration 
and pressure of affliction which it must have asked to 
destroy such a building ;—-and here is the gradual 
hurtless lapse into idiocy of faculties, which at their 
best of times never having been strong, we look upon 
the consummation of their decay with no more of pity 
than is consistent with a smile. The mad tailor, the 
poor driveller that has gone out of his wits (and truly 
he appears to have had no great journey to go to get 
past their confines) for the love of Charining Betty 
Careless—these half-laughable, scarce-pitiable objects 
take off from the horror which the principal figure 
would of itself raise, at the same time that they assist 
the feeling of the scene by contributing to the general 
notion of its subject :— 

‘¢ Madness, thou chaos of the brain, 
What art, that pleasure giv’st, and pain ? 
Tyranny of Fancy’s reign ! 
Mechanic Fancy, that can build 
Vast labyrinths and mazes wild, 
With rule disjointed, shapeless measure, 
Fill’d with honor, fill’d with pleasure, 
Shapes of horror, that would even 
Cast doubts of mercy upon heaven, 


Shapes of pleasure, that, but seen, 
Would split the shaking sides of spleen.* 


Ts it carrying the spirit of comparison to excess to 
remark, that in the poor kneeling, weeping female, who 
accompanies her seducer in his sad decays there. is, some- 
thine analogous to Kent, or Caius, as he delights rather 
to be called, in ‘ Lear, —the noblest pattern of virtue 
which even Shakspeare has conceived,—who follows 
his royal master in banishment, that had pronounced 
his banishment, and, forgetful at once of his wrongs 
and dienities, taking on himself the disguise of a 
menial, retains his fidelity to the figure, his loyalty to 
the carcase, the shadow, the shell and empty husk of 
Lear ?”” 

There is scarcely a parallel, we think, between the 
ast scenes of Timon and the. last scenes of the ‘ Rake’s 
Progress,’ any more than there is in the lives of the two 


_ * Lines inscribed under the plate. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘from affluence to poverty. 


383 


ruined men. Timon truly says, in the first chill of his 
fortunes, 
‘No villainous bounty yet hath pass’d my heart; 
Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.” 

The Rake is one compound of selfishness and sen- 
suality, unadulterated by any generous vice which wears 
the garb of virtue. Timon, with a lofty misanthropy, 
rejects the world and its false friends; he looks to death 
with the calmness of one who has sounded the depths 
of the vanity of life :— ) 

‘* Say to Athens, 
Timon hath made his everlasting mansion 
Upon the beached verge of the salt flood, 
Which once a day with his embossed froth 
The turbulent surge shall cover.” 

He dies, weary of the world and broken hearted ; 
although the world solicits his return to it. The Rake 
dies (under the protection of society, for his intellects 
have perished) without a lofty thought to console his 
parting hour—a monument of deep and dire retribution 
for crimes and follies that even in their completion 
were but another name for misery. 


We add a few anecdotes relating to this series .of 
pictures, from the lively and judicious volumes of 
Mr, Allan Cunningham, on ‘ British Painters,’ pub- 
lished in the ‘ Family Library :’— 

‘The persons who crowd the eight busy scenes of 
the Rake’s Progress are not so well known (as those 
of the Harlot’s Progress); many are -believed to be 
portraits. The hero himself is probably ouly the per- 
sonation of the vices which the painter preposed to 
satirize ; through which the treasures amassed by sordid 
meanness were to be as ignobly squandered. In the 
halo round the head of the antiquated beldame, whom 
he marries to‘support his extravagance, we see a satiric 
touch at that spiritual school of painting, to which 
Hogarth never bore any love. The two sedate per- 
sohages, in the scene of the gaming table, are one 
Manners, (of the family of Rutland,) to whom the 
Duke of Devonshire lost the great estate of Leicester 
Abbey, and a highwayman, who sits warming his feet 
at the fire, waiting quietly till the winner departs, that 
he may, with a craped face and a cocked pistol, follow 
and seize the whole. ‘ Old Manners,’ says Ireland, 
‘was the only person of his time who amassed a con- 
siderable fortune by the profession of a gamester.’ 
Hogarth has shown him exercising his twofold avocation 
of miser and gamester, discounting a note of hand to 
a nobleman with a greedy hand and a rapacious eye. 

‘** In another scene the actors in the drama of prodi- 
gwality are numerous and well chosen. The Rake, 
holding his morning levee, appears stiff and ungraceful 
in his rich dress and newly acquired importance—and 
is surrounded by visitors well qualified to reduce him 
Paris sends a tailor,: a 
dancing-master, a milliner, a master of fencing, and a 
blower of the French horn; we have besides an English 
prize-fighter, a teacher of Italian music, a garden archi- 
tect, a bravo, a jockey, and a poet. One of those 
worthies, Dubois, a Frenchman, was memorable for 
his enthusiasm in the science of defence, and for having 
died in a quarrel with an Irishman of his own name 
and profession, as fiery and skilful as himself. Another 
was Fiee, the prize-fighter, noted in the days of 
Hoearth for beating half-a-dozen intractable Hiber- 
nians, which accounts for the words on the label— A 
Fiee for the Irish. The teacher of music resembles 
Handel, and the embellisher of gardens has the look ot 
Bridgman—a person who modestly boasted that his 
works ‘ created landscape, realized painting, and im- 
proved nature. If the subjects which painting em- 
bodies could be as clearly described by the pen, there 
would be less use for the pencil; nothing short of the 


384 


examination of these varied productions can properly 
satisfy curiosity. ‘ The © Rake’s Levee Room,”’ says 
Walpole, ‘the ‘‘ Nobleman’s Dining Room,” the 
‘¢ Apartments of the Husband and Wife in Marriage 
a-la-mode,” the ‘* Alderman’s Parlor,’ the ‘ Bed- 
chamber,” and many others, are the history of the 
inanners of the age.’ ‘ 

‘‘ The fame of Hogarth, and the profit arising from 
his pieces, excited needy artists and unprincipled print- 
sellers to engrave some of the most popular-of his 
works, and dispose of them for their own advantage. 
The eight prints of the ‘ Rake’s Progress’ were pirated 
by Boitard, published on one large sheet a fortnight 
before the originals appeared, and called ‘The Progress 
of the Rake, exemplified in the Life of Ramble Gripe, 
Esq., Son: and Heir of Sir Positive Gripe. They 
were executed too with a skill which threatened to im- 
pair his income. Hogarth complained, with much 
bitterness, of this audacious proceeding ; and to put a 
stop to such depredations, and secure to painters gene- 
rally a fair profit in their own compositions, he applied 
to parliament, and obtained an act in 1735, for recog- 
nizing. a legal copyright in designs and engravings, 
and restraining copies of such works from being made 
without consent of the owners.’ 3 

‘* A very few plain words, one would have thought, 
might have expressed this very plain meaning ;‘ but in 
acts of parliament, the meaning is apt to be, lost amidst 
the multitude of phrases, as a figure is sometimes ob- 
scured in the abundance of its drapery.. One Huggins, 
the friend of Hogarth, drew the act; and worded it so 
loosely and vaguely, that when resorted to as a remedy 
in the case of Jeffreys the printseller, it was the opinion 
of Lord Hardwicke, before whom the trial came on, 
that no person claiming under an assignment from the 
original inventor of the paintings, or designs copied, 
could receive any benefit from it. ‘ Hogarth,’ says Sir 
John Hawkins, ‘ attended the hearing of the cause, and 
lamented to me that he had employed Huggins to draw 
the act, adding that when he first projected it, he hoped 
it would be such an encouragement to art, that engra- 
vers would multiply, and the shops of printsellers 
become as numerous as those of bakers :—a hope (adds 
Hawkins) which seems pretty nearly eratified.’ ’ 

‘““ From his pencil and his graver Hogarth obtained 
a twofold fame, and a right to a twofold profit—of 
which he naturally desired to secure the advantages to 
himself. His paintings, notwithstauding his general 
reputation, continued, however, low-priced ; they were 
considered more as the corrupted offspring of a random 
inspiration, than as the legitimate productions of study 
and art. His’ graver was to him as a second right 
hand; he thus multiplied his works by the hundred and 
by the thousand, increased his income, and established 
his fame everywhere. Hogarth stood alone here; by 
holding the graver with his own hand, he communi- 
cated to the prints an autograph importance which 
materially increased their value.” 





fu looking back upon the scenes of vice and misery 
which Hogarth has so truly depicted in this series of 
plates, we are naturally led to consider what are the 
causes of these fatal evils which have prevailed, and 
still prevail, so extensively in the most civilized states 
of man. . There can be no doubt, we think, that they 
almost entirely proceed from improper education. The 
young man whose wretched career is here depicted, is 
presumed to have been sufficiently instructed in the 
elements of knowledge—he was educated, probably, at 
some public school: one of the commentators of Ho- 
earth says, that in the first plate the miser’s heir is re- 
presented as just summoned from the university by the 


death of his father, In these venerable institutions too 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. 


[SepremBer 30, 1834, 


little attention has always been paid to the education of 


the moral feelings—to the formation of correct notions 
of the responsibility under which every member of 
society labours to discharge his duty to the best of his 
ability, according to his opportunities. The rich, to 
whom much is given, and from whom, therefore, much 
is demanded, seldom hear this lesson. They are not 
early instructed in °* the icy precepts of respect’’—-the 
severe maxims of prudence ; but are led to fancy that 
riches are all-powerful, and that the pleasure of their 


‘possessor is the only rule for their administration. This 


is a fatal mistake. It precipitates him who labours 
under the delusion into the depths of sensuality and 
selfishness ; it cuts him off from the enjoyments and 
the honour which wait upon the faithful exercise of any 
species of power; it makes him a mark for the artifices 
of the worthless and the designing; it degrades him, 
in fact, from the station which a wise and benevolent 
rich man ought to hold, into what has been most em- 
phatically called ‘* a useless funnel of expense.” For 
such evil notions as these there is no corrective but 


sound education,—not the education only. of the in- 


tellect, but of the heart,—not a mere cultivation of the 
memory and the imagination, but a strengthening. of 
the moral principle. How this effect is to be attained 
is not our province to discuss. It is enough for us to. 
express our conviction, that for the correction of the 
early mistakes which lead to the debasements of high 
life or of low, the same educational process is necessary. 

The time may come when the vices. and wretchedness 
which Hogarth has depicted in his ‘ Rake’s Progress,’ 
and his ‘Gin Lane,’ shall be looked upon as curious 
evidences of a past state of manners. If that happy 
time should ever arrive, it. will be accompanied by the 
devotion, both of the rich and the poor, to those sources 
of pleasure which Nature has opened to us in the:culti- 
vation of our higher tastes, and the indulgence of our 
purer affections. False excitements will then be valued 
as they deserve. The frivolities of the great, and the 
grossness of the vulgar, will then be weighed in the 
same scale. Men of all ranks will have more’ enjoy- 
ments in common. <A more healthy state of the social 
system will be generally induced. Those who are poor 
will labour with cheerfulness; those who are rich will 
know that wealth is given to them, not to squander, 
but to render a source of public and private benefit. 

Nor are we without hope that such a time may 
arrive. The progress of the humanizing influences of 
civilization has already banished from our cities many 
of the more open exhibitions of profligacy which were 
common in Hogarth’s day. Night taverns dedicated 
to riot and debauchery, uncontrolled by the police,— 
highwaymen and pickpockets resorting to public places 
without fear,—ragged boys gambling in the causeway, 
—prisons, at once the most filthy and corrupting ;— 
such things as these are greatly changed amongst us. 
Vice does not thrust up her brazen front in noon-day ; 
——she puts on the semblance of decency,—and decency 
is the portal of virtue. Hogarth’s prints undoubtedly 
show us that iw many things we have improved. It is 
education alone,—not an education confined to small 
corners of the Jand, but a broad and universal system 
of educating all the members of the state with the con- 
viction that they have all high duties to perform,— 
which can carry forward these improvements as becomes 
a country which has done so inuch for example, though 
she has still left so much undone, 


LT LL A CS SAE RCSL EO A te cata 


*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
: 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, ' 


LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGUT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 





Printed by Witt1am Clowes, Duke Street, Lambeth. 


PHE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





161.4 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. 





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[OcToBER 4, 1834. 


396 


We shall, as soon as possible, give our readers an ac- 
count of the magnificent organ which has been erected 
in the Town Hall at Birmingham, In the mean time, 
the foliowing facts relating to the great organ at Haar- 
lem will not be unacceptable. This organ is said to be 
not only the largest but the best in Hurope—that 1s, in 
the world. We shall not enter curiously into the ques- 
tion of its claims in either of these respects, but proceed 
to lay before our readers, with a little modification, the 
lively account which Dr. Burney has given of the 
instrument in his ‘ Present State of Music in Germany, 
the Netherlands, and United Provinces.’ —1773. 

‘S There were few things,” says this most competent 
judge of musical affairs, “* that I was more eager to see, 
in the course of my journey, than the celebrated organ 
in the great church of this city. Indeed, it is the dion 
of the place ; but to hear this lion roar is attended with 
more expense than to hear all the lions and tigers in 
the Tower of London. The fee of the keeper, or organist, 
is settled at half-a-guinea; and that of his assistant 
keeper, or bellows blower, at half-a-crown. Expectation, 
when raised very high, is not only apt to surpass pro- 
bability but possibility. Whether imaginary greatness 
diminished the real on this occasion I know not, but lL 
was somewhat disappointed on hearing this instrument. 
In the first place, the person who plays it is not so great 
2» performer as he imagines ; and, in the next, though the 
number of stops amounts to sixty, the variety they 
afford is by no means equal to what might be expected. 
As to the vox humana, which is so celebrated, it does 
not at all resemble a human voice, though a very good 
stop of the kind. But the world is very apt to be im- 
posed upon by names: the instant a common hearer 
is told that the organist is playing upon a stop that re- 
sembles the human voice, he supposes it to be very fine, 
and never inquires into the propriety of the name, or 
the exactness of the imitation. However, with respect 
to my own feelings, I must confess that of all the stops 
I have yet heard, which have been honoured with the 
appellation of vor humana, no one, in the treble part, 
has ever reminded me of any thing human‘so much as 
of the cracked voice of an old woman of ninety, or, in 
the lower parts, of Punch singing through a comb.” 

The organ was built by Miller in the year 1738. 
It has sixty stops, several of which are not known to 
our organ-builders, or to be found in any instrument in 
this country. There are two tremutants ; two couplings, 
or springs of communication; four separations, or valves, 
to close the wind-chest of a whole set of keys, in case 
of a cipher ; and twelve pair of bellows. 

‘Upon the whole,” concludes Dr. Burney, “it is a 
noble instrument; though I think that of the New 
Church at Hamburgh is larger, and that of the Old 
Kerk in Amsterdam better toned. But all these 
enormous machines seem loaded with useless stops, or 
such as only contribute to augment noise and to stiffen 
the touch,” 





SHAVING. 
Tue comparative advantages and propriety of shaving, 
and of permitting the beard to grow, it is perhaps not 
easy to determine. On the side of beards, it has been 
argued that nature must have bestowed such an ap- 
pendage for the purpose of being worn; and that, as 
Tertullian affirmed, it is ‘* blasphemy against the face ” 
to reject it altogether. It is certain also, that a well- 
kept beard adds greatly to dignity of appearance, and 
finely sets off other parts of the countenance, and in 
particular gives great expression to the eyes. A com- 
parison of bearded and beardless portraits is generally 
much to the advantage of the former. It is difficult to 
suppose that Leonardo da Vinci, or Cardinal Bembo, 
or Cranmer, or the Shah of Persia, would look so well 
without their beards; and in Turkey it is impossible to 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[October 4, 


compare the men who have been shaven, and otherwise 
Europeanized, with the bearded civilians in their flow- 
ing robes, without feeling that the former are, to use an 
Oriental simile, “ plucked pigeons” in comparison. 
We have heard much of the dignified and stately ap- 
pearance of the Turks, but such a comparison enables 
us to perceive that most of their dignity is in their 
beards and their dresses. ‘‘Then we must also take into 
account the trouble of shaving, which made Seume, a 
German writer, say, in his ‘ Journal,’—“ To-day I 
threw my powder-apparatus out of the window. When 
will come the blessed day when I shall send the shaving 
apparatus after it !” 

On the other hand, it may be alleged that, as the 
beard has always been shaven wherever men became 
highly civilized, its growth must have been found in- 
compatible with the convenience and refinements of 
such a state, and would be a serious incumbrance in 
many delicate acts. Besides, we find that, among all 
bearded nations, the beard has always been invested 
with peculiar sacredness, which preserves it from any 
kind of violation; and as it is the tendency of civiliza- 
tion to eradicate prejudices, this would suffer amone 
the rest, and men would live in continual peril of the 
practical jokes and rough handling which so conspicuous 
an appendage would seem almost to invite. Then it 
may be questioned whether the care which the beard 
would require to keep it in a decent state, and to pre- 
vent it from becoming a receptacle for dust and other 
impurities, is not fully equal to any that shaving occa- 
sions. In point of mere appearance, also, it may be 
stated that, what the eyes lose by the absence of a 
beard obtains a full compensation, except in old age, by 
the greater advantage with which the mouth appears. 
Upon the whole, speaking from the experience of thous 
Kuropeans who have worn a beard in other lands, it 
may-be said that the law of this matter should be for 
every man to shave or not to shave, as his age, circum- 
stances, pursuits, and inclinations might render the 
most convenient to him 
. The practice of shaving probably originated at first 
from its being found that the beard afforded too good a 
hold to an enemy in battle. ‘This is the cause assigned 
for the origin of shaving among the Greeks, about the 
tiine of Alexarider ; and in most countries we find that 
the practice is first adopted by military men, and that men 
of pacific and learned pursuits retain their beards much 
later. The Greeks continued to shave until the time of 
Justinian, in whose reign long beards became again 
fashionable, and remained in use until Constantinople 
was taken by the Turks. The Romans appear to have 
derived the custom of shaving from the inhabitants of 
Sicily, who were of Greek origin; for we find that a 
number of barbers were sent from thence to Rome, in 
the year 296 u.c.; and the refinement of shaving 
daily is said to have been first intraduced by no less a 
person than Scipio Africanus. At the expiration of the 
Republic, beards had become very rare; and historians 
mention the alarm in which some of the emperors lived 
lest their barbers should cut their throats. For the 
sake of concealing the scars on his face, the emperor 
Hadrian wore a beard, and this, of course, brought 
that appendage again into use; but the custom did not 
long survive him, although his two immediate successors 
wore beards in the character of philosophers. Among 
the Romans, shaving did not commence immediately 
on the appearance of the hair; the youth was suffered 
to acquire a snall beard, and the operation of shaving 
was performed for the first time with a great deal of 
ceremony. Persons of quality had the operation per- 
formed for their sons by persons of greater quality than 
themselves; and this act rendered such persons the. 
adoptive fathers to the children. The day was a festival : 
visits of ceremony were paid to the young men, who 


1834,} 


received presents from their friends; and the first 
growth of the beard was solemnly consecrated to some 
deity—usually to the household gods. 

The ancient German nations shayed the beard, except 
that on the upper lip ; and what is expressly stated of one 
tribe was probably true of the rest—that they allowed 


no young man to shave or cut his hair until he had- 


killed an enemy in battle. The ancient Goths, Franks, 
Gauls, and Britons, also wore only mustaches, the hair 
of which they suffered to grow to a very inconvenient 
length. The Saxons wore long beards, but, at the 
introduction of Christianity, the laity began, by degrees, 
to imitate the clergy, who weré shaven; they, however, 
still retained the hair on the upper lip. ‘The Danes ap- 
pear to have worn their beards. Sueno, the first Danish 
chief who invaded this country, was surnamed ‘* Fork- 
beard.” ‘The Normans shaved. their beards entirely, 
and looked upon the appendage with so much distaste, 
as an indieation of misery and distress, that they were 
the great apostles of shaving wherever they came. 
Accordingly, they endeavoured to persuade or compel 
the English to shave the hair of their upper lips. ‘The 
great majority yielded to the necessity of the case, but 
there were many who chose rather to leave the country 
than resign their whiskers. However, beards again 
had their day. In the fourteenth century they became 
again fashionable, and continued until the beginning of 
the seventeenth. At the latter date their dimensions 
had become much contracted, and they were soon. after 
relinquished, the mustaches only being retained ; and 
at the commencement of the last century the practice 
of shaving the whole face had become universal. In 
these latter changes the example of France was followed. 
In that country, Henry IV. was the last sovereign who 
wore a beard, and he had a tolerably fine one. He was 
succeeded by a beardless minor, in compliment to whom 
the courtiers shaved all their beards except the mus- 
taches. ‘The succession of another minor confirmed the 
custom, and ultimately the mustaches also disappeared. 
Lhe Spaniards, more tardily influenced by French 
example, kept their beards until the French and 
English were beginning to relinquish even mustaches. 
Perhaps they would have kept the cherished appendage 
to this day, but a French prince (Philip V.) mounted 
the Spanish throne with a shaved chin. ‘The courtiers, 
with heavy hearts, imitated the prince ; and the people, 
with still heavier hearts, imitated the courtiers. ‘The 
popular feeling on the subject, however, remains re- 
corded in the proverb, ‘* Since we have lost our beards 
we have lost our souls.” 

With respect to beards among ecclesiastics, as the 
practice has somewhat differed from that of the laity, it 
requires to be separately noticed. Sometimes the clergy 
of the Western church were enjoined to wear beards, 
under an impression that shaving was an effeminate 
practice, and that a beard well became the gravity of the 
ecclesiastical character; and at other times shaving was 
enforced, from an idea that pride was too apt to lurk 
beneath a venerable beard. It is related that Guillaume 
Duprat, Bishop of Clermont, who assisted at the 
Council of Trent, and built the College of the Jesuits 
at Paris, had the finest beard that was ever seen. It 


was too fine a beard for a bishop; and the canons of 


his cathedral, in full chapter assembled, came to the 
barbarous resolution of shaving him. Accordingly, 
when next he came to the choir, the dean, the prevdét, 
and the chantre, approached with scissors and razors, 
soap, basin, and warm water. He took to his heels at 
the sight, and escaped to his eastle of Beauregard, 
about two miles from Clermont, where he fell sick from 
vexation, and died. 

By the statutes of some monasteries, it appears that 
lay monks were to let their beards grow, but that the 
priests were to shave, The beards of all that were 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


of using it in his forge. 


887 


received into the monasteries were blessed with a great 
deal of ceremony; and the prayers are still extant which 
were used in consecrating the beard to heaven when an 
ecclesiastic was shaven. ‘The ecclesiastics of the Greek 
Church were great sticklers for béards, and when the 
rupture between that and the Church of Rome was 
completed, the latter went more decidedly than it had 
previously done into the opposite extreme. Never- 
theless, the regulations about shaving seem not to have 
been rigidly enforced on the higher dignitaries of the 
church, for we frequently find that both cardinals and 
bishops wore their beards: Cardinal Pole, and Bishon 
Gardiner, in the reion of Mary I., had remarkably fine 
ones. ‘The early bishops and fathers of the Protestant 
Church usually wore their beards; but Martin Luther 
himself, who had been a monk, is always represented 
without such an appendage. 

It would not bé well to leave this subject without 
observing the remarkable fact that, in most countries 
where the beard is allowed to grow, the hair of the head 
is shaven. This is particularly the case in Mohammedan 
nations, in which, in general, only a small tuft of hair 
is left on the crown of the head, for the purpose of 
affording their Prophet a hold in raising them to another 
world hereafter. ‘The operation of shaving the head is 
performed by the Oriental barbers with great dexterity, 
but they are utterly at a loss how to deal with the hair 
of the head in any other manner. A European will 
find it difficult, in most Mohammedan towns,—except 
in the sea-ports of the Mediterranean,—to find a man 
who will undertake to cut his hair, and if he finds one 
he is obliged to give him very minute instructions. 
Such is the force of habit, that the writer of this article, 
who, in some of its details, speaks from experience, can 
remember no instance in which a Mohammedan barber, 
however well apprised of what was required of him, 
failed to come to his task with all his usual aparatus :— 
his basin, his soap, his strop, and his razors. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Section XXIII. 
Iron.—No. II. 
Tus metal has not been found as a native mineral, in 
a pure state, except in very small quaiitities.. Some 
rare specimens of it are met with occasionally in the 
cabinets of mineralogists, as objects of scientific interest. 
But huge masses of malleable iron have been found in 
different parts of the earth, lying upon the surface of 
the ground, or partially imbedded’ in it; the most re- 
markable of which are those which were met with in 
Siberia and in South America. The Siberian mass is 
described by Professor Pallas-in his ‘ Travels in dif- 
ferent parts of the Russian Empire,” in the year 1772, 
It was discovered in 1750 by a peasant, on the top ofa 
mountain, in the interior of Asiatic Russia, in the district 
of Krasnojarsk (lat. 56; long. 92, E.), on the borders of 
the river Eniss¢i, quite detached from any other mineral 
substance at all resembling it, and was looked upon by 
the Tartars with superstitious fear as having fallen from 
heaven. A Cossack blacksmith, whose cupidity over- 
came his religious scruples, with considerable . dif- 
ficulty removed the mass to his village, a distance 
of thirty versts, or about twenty miles, for the purpose 
It weighed forty-two poods, 
which is equal to 1512 tbs.; but when Professor Pallas 
was in the country, a part only of it had been used. 
The South American mass was found in the jurisdiction 
of Santiago del Estero, 800 miles north-west of Buenos 
Ayres, and was much larger, for the weight was esti- 
mated as equal to thirteen tons, or 29,120 Ibs. All 
these masses of meteoric iron, as they are called, are 
totally distinct in composition from any ore of iron 
found in the bowels of the earth: they have all a ereat 
similarity of composition one to another, and contain a 


3 D2 


$88 


proportion of nickel, a metal of great rarity. There is 
every reason to believe that they belong to that class of 
remarkable bodies called meteoric stones, or aérolites, 
which, from time to time, have fallen upon the earth 
from the atmosphere., A mass of iron of this descrip- 
tion was actually seen to fall from the air at Agram, in 
Croatia, in 1751, which had the appearance of chains 
welded together. Further particulars relative to me- 
teoric iron will be found in an article in the * Penny 
Cyclopedia,’ under the word AEROLITEs, written by the 
author of these communications, and to which we refer 
all those who have not before heard of stones falling 
from the air, and who may, not unnaturally, feel some- 
what incredulous about so extraordinary an event. 

The ores of iron are numerous, but many of them 
form only objects of interest to the scientific mine- 
ralogist. There are about eight different kinds of these 
which occur in sufficient quantities to pay for the ex- 
pense of erecting furnaces to work them, in order to 
extract the metal. The ore from which nineteen-twen- 
tieths of the iron manufactured in the United Kingdom 
are obtained, is that kind commonly called argillaceous, 
or clay-ironstone. It is of various colours,—grey, brown, 
and bluish-grey ; and, to an uninstructed person, would 
not appear different from an ordinary stone, except on 
account of its greater weight. It is described in most 
works on chemistry and mineralogy ; but the most de- 
tailed accounts we have of the various qualities of this 
ore, and of the processes for obtaining the metal from 
it, are those of Mr. Mushet and Dr. Colquhoun. 
The former, who is one of the most experienced iron- 
masters in the United Kingdom, published a series of 
memoirs in the ‘ Philosophical Magazine,’ beginning 
in 1798, and continuing for several years, which are 
full of the most valuable practical information, by a 
person thoroughly conversant with all the science of his 
subject. Dr. Colquhoun’s treatises, which are also 
extremely valuable, will be found in Brewster’s ‘ Philo- 
sophical Journal’ for 1827. The iron exists in clay- 
ironstone in combination with oxygen gas, in that 
proportion which chemists designate the protoxide, 
and with carbonic acid gas, and mixed with small quan- 
tities of earths, carbonaceous matter, and sometimes 
sulphur. Dr. Colquhoun gives the results of the 
analysis, or chemical examination, ofthe composition 
of nine different varieties, from which it appears that the 
ironstones vary considerably in quality. One hundred 
grains of the several ores were found to contain of 

Protoxide of Iron........eee4.-from 39 to 53 per cent. 
Carbonic Acid GaS.e...eeeee- 0208226 SO gy 
Silica (the pure’earth of flints)...... 1 20 © ,, 
Alumina (the pure earth of clay) .... 3 my, 


Lime e@eeeovneteooevot?e oe epee toxv eee @ 2 
Magnesia.ccsrccseccoccovsscessees 13 62 9? 


besides minute quantities of carbon, sulphur, and the 
metal called manganese. ‘The specific gravity of the 
ores varied from 2°80 to 3°50; distilled water of the 
same bulk being 1°00. : 
The great deposits of clay ironstone are in the coal- 
measures; that is, in the strata of shale, clays, sand- 
stones, and slates, which alternate with the layers of 
coal, It has been well observed by Mr. Conybeare, in 
his *‘ Geology of England and Wales,’ that °° the occur- 
rence of this most useful. of metals in immediate con- 
nexion with the fuel requisite for its reduction, and the 
limestone which facilitates that reduction, is an instance 
of arrangement so happily suited to the purposes of 
hunian industry, that it can hardly be considered as 
recurring unnecessarily to final causes, if we conceive 
that this distribution of the rude materials of the earth 
was determined with a view to the convenience of its 
inhabitants.” Clay-ironstone is not confined to the 
coal-measures, but occurs frequently in some of the 
superior strata, between the chalk and the coal-measures, 


and sometimes, though more rarely, in the tertiary’ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


é 


[OcToBEr 4, 


sedimentary deposits which lie above the chalk (see the 
diagram No. 1, in the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ No. 51). 
The ore is often met with in thin continuous strata, but 
it seldom happens, when found in the coal-measures, 
that there is only a single stratum of it; there are usu- 
ally several strata,—from ten to forty in the same tract 
of country,—the thickness of them varying from half an 
inch to sixteen inehes; and they generally present, at 
the same time, differences in their chemical composition. 
Clay-ironstone occurs frequently in detached nodules, 
imbedded in the strata of clay or shale, varying in size 
from that of a bean to five feet in diameter, and half 
these dimensions in thickness, having, for the most 
part, a flattened form. ‘They often lie together in one 
place, at regular distances, forming an almost con- 
tinuous bed; but more usually the nodules are scattered 
promiscuously through the clay, but with their longer 
diameter parallel to the lines of stratification in the 
coal-measures. In weight they vary from an ounce 
to upwards of a ton. ‘The size of the nodules most 
commonly found is about a foot in the longest diameter. 
They frequently contain shells, and impressions of 
plants similar to those met with in the shale of the 
coal-measures. The following specimens are from 


Chesterfield and Alfreton in Derbyshire :— 


-_ 
= 
— - 
_—— 


s' - . 
; = AS = = oF 
Seas” ASS 
a t 
“ty 


—_* 


Tis 
oad 


i 


- 


ie 


* 


ones 


He Ms 
jet ys atl 





[Yig. 1.is a plant of the Fern tribe, called Newropteris by fossil 
botanists. | 


AXE: La 3 1 

Gard 4 : 
SLY 

wen “a “=F 


cA 


A 
pos 
>? 
$ 
fy 


A - ®, on 
h ee , $4eR UA 
i “ Tene APN we ga 
~~ om Rm 
= L 
+ 


ze 
‘ i 
ee 
“4. 

=f, 
Fi 

Pe 


= 3 
it 
aay FY 
2° 

oa © 

ay 
mS 


Ws 


i rf 





"| Fie #2 tis a portion of a plant which Martin, in his ‘ Petrifica 
Derbiensia,’ considers to be allied to the Fir tribe. ] 


1834.] 


All the appearances which clay-irgnstone exhibits, | 


whether in layers or in nodules, show that it is not an 
igneous production, but that it was deposited by water. 
But the nodules are in no degree analogous to the 
rounded stones found in many of the strata, which are 
fragments of rock, the angles of which have been worn 
off by their being rubbed against each other in running 
water, like the stones in the bed of a river. ‘The par- 
ticles of the clay-ironstone must have been suspended 
in the fluid mass of mud that afterwards hardened into 
clay or shale, and must have separated from it, and 
collected together in the spheroidal nodules by some 
internal chemical action similar to that which takes 
place in the masses of clay, mixed with grownd flints, 
prepared for making fine pottery and china. When 
these are allowed to stand unused for some time, it 
often happens that the particles of the powdered flint 
separate from the clay into detached, hard, stony 
nodules. The observation of this fact has thrown con- 
siderable light on the probable origin of the nodules of 
flint in chalk, a subject which was very obscure, and of 
which ne satisfactory theory had previously been 
proposed. 

In our next section we shall proceed to consider the 
method of obtaining the metal from clay-ironstone. 


ee eS = 


THE PYRAMID CEMETERY. 


Tue plan of a pyramidal structure, to be used as a 
cemetery, was laid before the public by Mr. Willson, 
an architect, in the year 1830. Although its claims 
to notice have not been more recently urged, we are 
informed that the architect does not consider the ne- 
cessity for such a structure as he proposes superseded 
by the Kensall-Green Cemetery ; nor does he doubt 
that the importance of its principle and the practi- 
cability of its execution will be more generally re- 
cognised than it appears hitherto to have been. For 
the neighbourhood of a large town, the principle is 
apparently a good one; but while we make every allow- 
ance for the unwillingness of Mr. Willson to have 
his design mutilated, we cannot but express our fear 
that many years must elapse before so grand an ap- 
plication of the principle will be carried into effect ; 
and that the way for it must be prepared by the success 
of intermediate and humbler measures, which depart 
less from the existing modes of sepulture. 

Mr. Willson appears to have felt very strongly the 
serious evil of interments in the midst of towns and in 
churehes; but, in his views of a fitting remedy, he 
went farther than the framers of the cemeteries on tlie 
model of Pere la Chaise. He thought that any plan 
recornizing the principle of inclosing plot after.plot for 
burial grounds was essentially defective, and that it 
would only perpetuate the evils.which were incurably 
attached to the present method, while it would ulti- 
mately encroach upon the most valuable garden- 
grounds and common-lands in the vicinity of the 
metropolis, greatly to the publie disadvantage. - Apply- 
ing his mind, therefore, to the consideration of some 
pian not liable to such objections, he ultimately formed 
the design of “‘a metropolitan cemetery on a scale 
commensurate with the necessities of the largest city in 
the world, embracing prospectively the demands of 
centuries, sufficiently capacions to receive 5,000,000 of 
the dead, where they may repose in perfect security, 
withont interfering with the comfort, the health, the 
business, the property, or the pursuits of the living.” 
The following are the outlines of the plan by which it 
was proposed to effect so great an object; and which 
is calculated to give 1000 acres for the purposes of 
interment upon an area of 18 acres only, by means of 
an ascending structure, . | — 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


389 


This structure was proposed to be a pyramid faced 
with granite, and surpassing in magnitude the creat 
pyramid of Eevpt. In order to obtain a general idea 
of what is intended, the architect, in his prospectus, 
requests his readers to imagine a massive square build- 
ing gradually diminishing to its apex, the base of 
which occupies an area as large as Russell Square, and 
which towers to a heieht considerably abeve that of 
St. Paul’s, and exhibits on every side, to its very sum- 
mit, avast flight of stairs; the whole faced with square 
blocks of granite, and surmounted by a plain and 
appropriate obelisk, having a circular stone staircase, 
and terminating in an astronomical observatory. The 
inclosure surrounding the pyramid would contain 
several acres beyond its base, which might be taste- 
fully laid out for the reception of cenotaphs and monu- 
ments. It is considered that the bold, monotonous, 
and sombre background of the pyramid would present 
an ample field for the display of such works of the 
statuary as might be destined to enrich this interesting 
cemetery, being, by contrast, a fine relief to minute 
objects of art. The inclosure would also contain a small 
plain chapel, and a register-office opposite to cor- 
respond; four neat dwellings would also be provided 
for the keeper, the clerk, the sexton, and the super- 
intendent. Against the boundary-wall open arches 
would be constructed, which would support a terrace- 
walk along the four sides, with four watch-towers, or 
covered seats, at the extreme angles. The approach 
would be through a lofty Egyptian portal. Altowether 
the completed cemetery would apparently form an 
object of sepulchral magnificence to which the world 
has no equal. ‘“ This grand mausoleum,” says the 
architect, ‘* will go far towards completing the glory of 
London. It will rise in majesty over its splendid 
fanes and lofty towers,—-teaching the living to die, and 
the dying to live for ever.” Our own feeling, however, 
is averse to consider cemeteries with any strong refer- 
ence to their magnificence or picturesque beauty; and 
we shall consider that cemetery most entitled to our 
praise which best accomplishes, not its incidental, but 
its proper objects. What they are, we have taken former 
occasions to state; and shall now endeavour to show, 
by more detailed statements, the construction of a 
cemetery designed to contain the mortal remains of 
5,000,000 of people. | 

The foundation of the pyramid will consist of an 
entire floor of solid masonry, which will be surrounded 
by wide-arched, concealed sewers, to receive the torrents 
of rain from its surface. ‘The side of the base, at the 
sround-line, will extend nearly 900 feet, ascending to 
one diameter in height, which, perspectively, will give 
the proportion of an equilateral triangle. The walls 
and arches of the catacombs are to be constructed with 
hard-burnt, grey, stock bricks, and externally faced 
with eranite or limestone, not less than six inches in 
thickness. All the avenues and passages are to be 
paved with rubble-stone, which the refuse of the exterior 
will supply. The former will have external openings 
on the four sides at every stage. ‘The entrances or 
avenues to the cemetery are four (north, south, east, 
and west), in the centre of the sides, and intersecting: 
each other in the middle of the edifice, where is to 
be the shaft for general ventilation, having also, the 
position, and apparently the office, of a king-post to the 
whole structure. As the four principal avenues which 
thus intersect each other at every stage are wider than 
the ordinary passages, their side walls will also be 
of greater thickness than the partition walls of the 
catacombs,—namely, a yard and a half thick at the 
base, diminishing every second or third stage upwards 
to the exterior surface, where they must not be less 
than two bricks thick to receive the stone facing. 
The most extensive stages are of course the two below 


390 


the surface of the ground, either of which would consist 
of fifteen quadrangles of double tiers of catacombs, 
and one single tier towards the exterior. The total 
number of catacombs exhibited in this single stage is 
6,140; and as each catacomb will contain twenty- 
four coffins, as many as 147,360 may be deposited in 
this one stage. As this stage is near the base, and 
the dimensions of the stages contract in the upward 
progress, this is necessarily the highest amount which 
any stage will contain. ‘There are ninety-four stages 
in all, and the uppermost will afford twenty catacombs, 
or room for 480 coffins. 

Having thus stated the horizontal arrangement of 
the catacombs in the pyramid, we now proceed to view 
its perpendicular structure. Surrounding the shaft, and 
also near to the chief avenues, inclined planes of gentle 
ascent will be constructed, from stage to stage, im lieu 
of stairs, to facilitate interments, and for the conveyance 
of materials: those near the sides will be lighted from 
the exterior. The shaft will be chiefly used for the 
purpose of raising eoffins to the higher catacombs, and 
to those vaults which are in immediate proximity with 
it. The walls of the shaft must be radiated, and so 
constructed as to resist weight and pressure,—being the 
great abutment of every pier, and of every groined arch 
throughout the massive edifice; serving the threefold 
purpose of the main buttress, the general ventilator, 
and the efficient vomitory, should such a provision be 
found necessary, for the impure exhalations that may 
pass by filtration throngh the walls of the numerous 
cells. It is also eonnected with every avenue and 
passage in the pyramid, and being open from the foun- 
dation upwards, and terminating with lifting gratings 
at every stage, to prevent accidents, tt will give ready 
access to the two stories or stages of catacombs under- 
ground, and the ninety-two above eround. These will 
contain, altogether, 215,296 catacombs, which will 
afford accommodation for 5,167,104 large-sized coffins, 
which will be closed up and: sealed for ever when inter- 
ments take place; and stone tablets will be placed on 
the surface, with inscriptions explanatory of the name, 
rank, age, and residence of the deceased. The architect 
compares the appearance of the section to that of a bee- 
hive, and considers that the work would possess the 
compactness of the honeycomb, which it so nearly 
resembles. It would, at the same time, possess all the 
elements of duration, “ and could only be affected by 
the convulsions imeident to nature; and may be, there- 
fore, said to be almnost as immoveable and imperishable 
as the globe itself. To trace the length of its shadow 
at sun-rise and at eve, and to toil up its singular pas- 
sages. to the summit, will beenile the hours of the 
curious, and impress feelings of solemn awe and admi- 
ration on every beholder.” ‘To the idea which the reader 
will already have formed of the capacity of this immense 
mausoleum, we may add that, if 40,000 coffins were de- 
posited in it every year, it would not be full in less than 
125 years; and, consequently, that if the number were 
only £0,000, it would take 500 years to fill it up. 

Lhe architect estimates the expense of erecting such 
a cemetery at two millions and a-half; and if it should 
be considered impossible to raise such a-sum, he suceests 
that a progressive mode of erection might be adopted, 
by which the ultimate attainment of the object in view 
would be quite as well secured. ‘Fhe pyramid might 
thus either be the accumulating work of ages, or other- 
wise it might be erected i nineteen or twenty years ;— 
its progress whelly depending on the annual supply of 
funds ; and it might be confidently antieipated that these 
would rapidly increase in proportion as the practicability 
of the undertaking became apparent. The immense 
sum mentioned is allowed, on the first view, to: be rather 
discouraging. But-Mr. Willson enters into detailed 
ptatements to show that his plan is not less distingnished 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[October 4, 


for its economy than for its practical utility. He assumes 
the number of burials yearly to be 30,000, and the 


average cost of each to be 5/. ‘These are certainly very 


low estimates, but they afford an annual expenditure 
of 150,0002., or 15,000,000. in 100 years; while the 
pyramid, in which more than an équal number of 
dead might be deposited for a longer period, would 
cost but 2,500,000/., affording to the public a saving 
of 12,500,000/. sterling in one century. It is calculated 
that the sale of catacombs in anticipation would more 
than equal the cost of the entire construction; and if 
the average cost of each interment be estimated at only 
3/. 10s., the proprietors would ultimately realize a profit 
of 15,000,000/. by the concern. 

In his * Prospectus,’ and other papers, for which we 
are indebted to the kindness of the architect, he applies 
hinself to answer the objeetions which had been made to 
the plan. We really do not see much in these objections, 
except in one, which is rather, however, a sug¢estion, to 
the effect that two or four pyramids, half the diameter 
of that to which our statement refers, would be a great 
saving of expenditure, and therefore more advantageous 
to ‘the public than that which is proposed. If we under- 
stand correctly the dimensions which this pyramid would 
bear, its height would be about two and a-half times as 
ereat as that from the ground to the cross of St. Paul’s. 
It would still, therefore, exceed the height of that 
structure were it reduced one-half, as suggested. But 
Mr. Willson demonstrates very clearly that the great 
economy of the pyramid wholly depends upon its mag- 
nitude, and that the cost of the great pyramid would 
not equal that of four of half its diameter, while in its 
capacity it is equal to eight : which eight, thus brought 
under one apex, will require no more foundation than 
the four, and only half the quantity of drainage, and 
one-fourth of the inclosure; besides the saving which 
would necessarily result from the construction of one 
pyramid, and the existence of one establishment, in the 
place of four. 

We have not seen any strong objection to the 
principle of the measure; but it is to be feared that, 
between the difficulty of raising sufficient funds for its — 
speedy completion on the one hand, and the eonsider- 
ation that it might otherwise take two or three eene- 
rations to bring it to a completion, on the other, the 
pyramid is not likely, fer several years to come, to be 
seriously undertaken. 


HAWKING.—No. I. 


Hawkine, or Falconry, is the art of training and 
flymg hawks for the purpose of killing or catching 
other birds, 

Though for many centuries the favourite amusement 
of the kings, nobles, and gentry, all over Europe, it 
has now been so long and entirely out of fashion m 
Kingland that few persons know anything about it, 
whilst many of the sécrets and niceties of the art, that 
could not be, or were not, preserved in books, have 
been wholly lost. Hawking, indeed, is one of those 
pastimes of the olden times that have everywhere 
retreated. before the advance of civilization. Among 
us, books, pictures, prints, mtellectual resources and 
amnsements, the invention of gunpowder and the mus- 


ket, and the gradua. inrprovements made, from the rude, 
heavy match-lock, to the light, portabie, and sure fow!- 
Ine-piece, have been fatal to it. 
/much exercise and more excitement, and is a surer way 
of bagging game than the methods of the falconer ; 
}and now-a-days not even the most sporting of our 


Shootine gives as 


country squires find it necessary, in order to pass their 
time and amuse themselves, to be continually in the 
freld, or employed in making preparations for it. Ata 
period in which intellectual resources were extremely 


1884.] 


rare, and few even of the nobility (to whom the sports 
of hunting, hawking, &c., were lone confined) were 
capable of reading a book, the frequent attention and 
great leneth of time required to train a falcon rendered 
the occupation of great value to the idle rich. It 
helped them to get through the twenty-four hours, 
which, when not employed in the less commendable 
sports of war, seem to have hung heavily on the princes, 
knights, and barons bold of the middle ages. ‘Those 
men were much to be pitied in their very vices, for the 
human mind must be excited and employed by some 
means, and what means, in those barbarous ages, had 
they within their reach but fighting, hunting, hawking, 
and carousing? Where the improvements of modern 
aves have not reached, the art of falconry and its con- 
stant practice still obtaim. It is still acomimon amuse- 
ment among the Turks in some parts of Asia Minor ; 
among the Persians, the Circassians, the wandering 
hordes of Tartars and Turkomans; it forms one of the 
favourite amusements of some of the native princes of 
India ; it is not unknown in the northern provinces of 
China; and is to be found more or less prevalent in 
several other barbarous or half-civilized countries. 

Hawking appears to have been first introduced into 
England from the north of Europe during the fourth 
century. Our Saxon ancestors became passionately 
fond of the sport, but do not appear to have made great 
progress in the art of training the birds. In the eighth 
century, one of our kings of that race caused a letter to 
be written to Winifred, Archbishop of Mons, begging 
the dignitary to send him some falcons that had been 
well trained to kill cranes. ‘The month of October was 
more particularly devoted to the sport by the Saxons. 
We were indebted to our fierce invaders, the Danes, for 
many improvements in falconry. Denmark and, still 
more, Norway were always celebrated for their breeds 
of hawks, and the natives of those countries had attained 
an extraordinary degree of skill in the art of training 
them. In the eleventh century, when Canute, King of 
Denmark and Norway, ascended the English throne, 
the sport became more and more prevalent. We are 
not aware of what restrictions were imposed under the 
Saxon or Danish rule, but after the conquest of onr 
island by William of Normandy, none but persons of 
the highest rank were allowed to keep hawks. Cruel 
laws, with respect to field-sports, were framed and 
rigorously executed by the first princes of our Norman 
dynasty. According to the liberal views of those times, 
the people were held utterly unworthy of partaking 
anything, except the air of Heaven, in common with 
their noble oppressors. The life of a serf was of less 
value in the eyes of a Norman baron than that of a 
buck, or a hound, ora hawk ; and in those days the mass 
of what we now call the people were serfs and slaves. 
As to the keeping of falcons, the great expense attend- 
ing it put it entirely ont of the power of the commonalty, 
but the prohibitive Norman law was probably meant 
at first to extend to such of the Saxon landholders as 
were rich and remained free, but had no rank or nohi- 
lity according to the Conqueror’s estimation. On the 
contrary, in the days of King John every freeman was 
allowed to have eyries of hawks, sparrow-hawks, falcons, 
eagles, and herons, im his own woods. 

The numerous laws referring to hawking alone, 
enacted during successive reigns, prove the vital im- 
portance our ancient rulers attached to the matter. 

Hawks, however docile and well trained, were at 
times apt to fly away from their noble owners and he 
lost. Edward IIL. therefore made an express law, 
according to which any person finding a hawk, tercelet, 
laner, laneret, or any other species of hawk, was to 
carry it Immediately to the sheriff of the county, who 
was Immediately to cause a proclamation to be made 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


Sol 


| the lost bird, if discovered, was to receive it back from 


the sheriff on payment of the cost incurred for mainte- 
nance,—if not claimed in four months the hawk was to 
become the property of the: finder, if the person who 
had found it were of proper rank, but if the finder were 
an ignoble and unqualified person, then the hawk 
was to become the property of the sheriff, who, how- 
ever, was to give the poor man something for his 
trouble. Any attempt of the finder of the hawk to 
secrete or appropriate it was, like stealing a hawk, to 
be punished as felony. , 

The dignitaries of the church, who, in spité of the 
canonical interdictions of such pastimes, were almost 
as fond of falconry as the lay-nobility, occasionally 
launched their spiritual thunder at the heads of: hawk- 
stealers. It is on record that one of Edward III.’s 
bishops excommunicated certain persons for stealing a 
hawk that was sitting upon her perch in the cloisters of 
Bermondsey, in Southwark. It was argued, in support 
of this severity, that the guilt of sacrilege was added to 
that of theft, for the bird was purloined during the per- 
formance of divine service in the choir:—but what 
probably aggravated the ecclesiastic’s choler ‘was the 
simple fact that the hawk was his own. 

Our old poet Chaucer, who flourished at this time, 
frequently satirizes the clergy on their rage for the 
secular pastimes of hunting and hawking. In the 
* Canterbury Tales,’ he represents a monk as beiti¢ 
more learned in riding and hunting than in divinity ; 
and in the *‘ Ploughman’s ‘Tale’ he taxes the monks 
generally with worldly pride, because they ride high- 
bred horses like knights, having their hawks and their 
hounds with them. We find precisely the same style 
of censure and satire in some of the oldest writers in 
France and Italy, where hawking was just as eagerly 
followed by the clergy as in England. Ricordano 
Malespina, a Florentine chronicler of the thirteenth 
century, talks of a churehman’s hunting and hawking 
like a layman. In the following century, the frequent 
allusions to hawking in Boccaccio, Villani, and other 
writers, show how prevalent was the sport in Italy, 
We also gather from those early authors that the 
Italians paid enormous prices for their falcons, and 
that falconry was the favourite pastime of all the 
princes and nobles of that country. They talk of the 
falcons of the Emperor Frederic, King of Naples and 
Sicily ; and, later, of Charles of Anjou, who was wont 
to go hawking attended by all his barons. 

In Germany, in Hungary, in Poland, in Russia, the 
sport was followed with still more ardour. The Rus- 
sians were in the habit of flying snow-white hawks, of 
an admirable breed, which were procured from Siberia 
at an extravagant price. In short, all over Europe, 
hawking, with hunting, formed the main resource of all 
idle, ignorant minds, and was long considered as the 
exclusive attribute of noble blood. The tokens and 
proofs of nobility or distinction, in different ages and 
countries, would form a very ludicrous list. During 
the middle ages, a European showed his rank by having 
a hawk on his fist, as a Chinese Mandarin, even of our 
own days, claims the honour due to learning by letting 
his finger-nails grow to an enormouslength. A knight 
seldom stirred from his house without. his falcon on his 
wrist, and his hound at his heels; and, when his hunt- 
ino and hawking were over for ever, if he did not die 
in the field of battle, one of the two animals was gene- 
rally carved on his monument—the dog: at his feet, or 
the falcon on liis hand. At the first resurrection of the 
art of painting in Italy and Germany, and for more 
than two centuries after, a portrait was seldom executed 
without the painter’s introducing a falcon, or a gyr- 
falcon, in it. We have seen some old Italian frescoes in 
which a long line of knights and ladies were painted, 


in all the principal: towns in the county: the owner of | all in the same attitude, with full-front faces, and every 


392 


one of them holding a bird—thus looking more fiercely 
but as monotonously as farmer Flamborough’s family 
picture in the ‘ Vicar of Wakefield,’ in which every 
individual held an orange. Sebastian Brandt, a German, 
the author of the Latin poem ‘ Stultifera Navis,’ (the 
Ship of Fools) complains that, in his time (about the 
year 1485) the gentry used to take their hawks and 
hounds to church with them. Hence the devotions of 
ihe more religiously inclined were interrupted by the 
screams and yells of the birds and beasts, and, as Bar- 
clay, Brandt’s translator, renders it, 
' © The whole church was troubled by their outrage.” - 


A little before the publication of.the honest. German’s. 


satire, a curious book, generally attributed. to Julian 
Berners, sister of Lord Berners, and prioress .of the 
nunnery of Sopewell, made its appearance in England. 
It consists of two tracts,.one on hawking, -end the 
other on heraldry... We merely mention it here to show 
the estimation in which falconry was held among us at 
that time, but we shall refer.to the volume, in a future 
Number, for some curious erudition on the subject. It 
was written in-the reign of Richard III... The sport 
suffered: no decline on the accession of the ‘Tudors. 
Henry VII. made -laws. about hawking, as. did ‘also 
Queen Elizabeth ; and Henry VIII. practised the gentle 
craft until. he grew. too’fat-and unwieldy. We are told. 
bythe old chronicler ‘Hall that,-on:one occasion, our 
wife-killing king was well nigh dosing his life through: 
his love of the sport. It was the custom not only to 
cast off the falcon and follow it on horseback, but also, 
where the.ground was broken, intersected by water or 
marshes, or covered with wood,’ to pursue the pastirne 
on foot. In‘the latter case, each sportsman carried a 
stout-pole,/to aid him in jumping over rivulets and 
ditches.: -Now, one day, as Heury.was hawking in this 
manner, at Hitchen, in‘ Hertfordshire; while. vaulting 
over a ditch, his pole.broke, and he fell head:downwards 
into the ‘deep mud, which.almost smothered him ;-and 
there he would have: died but for. one: Jahn Moody; a 
serving-man, who, happening to be near, leaped into 
the ditch and rescued the’king.. “ And $0,” says old 
Hall, “* God in his goodnesse preserved: hym.” 
During the. reign of this ‘gracious: monarch, a 
person of high rank said to Richard -Pace, Henry's: 
secretary, “ It is enough for the sons of ‘noblemen 
to wind their’ horn’ and carry their hawk: fair, and 
leave study: and learning: to the meaner people.”:; But 
those were ** the good Bich times.’ Queen Elizabeth, 
who, with‘all :-her learning and talent, -had no objection 
to béar- -baiting, hunted’ “frequently, and, it appears, 
occasionally’ hawked with the ladies of her court. A 
letter written to her by Sir Walter Raleigh, wlien she 
was about sixty years old, is still extant. The flatter- 
ing kmeht, who was absent, and rather in disyrace at 
the time, alludes to her sylvan sports, and compares the 
old lady and her maids of:honour, in their stiff ruffs 
and fardingales, to—the goddess Diana and her ny mphs. 
There is a° portrait of her successor, James [.,; done 
when he was a boy, in which that sapient prince is. re- 
presented with a small hawk on his hand. . An amusing 
resemblance may be‘detected between the look and ex-. 
pression of.the bird and the countenance of James. 
Later in life, when he wrote his pedantic book of advice 
to his eldest son Henry, Prince of Wales, ‘after re- 
commending manly exercises, hunting, &c., ‘he adds, 
‘ As for hawking I condemn it not; but. 1.must -praise’ 
it more sparingly, ‘because it neither. resembleth the 
warres so near as hunting’ doeth, in making a man 
hardie‘and skilfully ridden in all grounds, and is more, 
uncertain and subject to mischances ; ‘and, which is. 
worst ‘of all, 3 is therethrough an extreine nyt of 
the passions.” , 
As popular rights of all sorts ome enlarged, and 
the odious. distinctions of the feudal’ system gradually 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 






[October 4, 1834. 


disappeared, a man could sport his falcons -without 
being a noble.. In the seventeenth century, hawking 
was classed among the amusements of squires and 
country gentlernen generally. ‘The Cornish Comedy,’ 
which was written and played about 1690, contains the 
following apposite passage :—‘* What is a gentleman 
without his recreations? With these we endeavour to — 
pass away the time which would otherwise lie heavily 
upon our hands. Hawks, hounds, setting-dogs, and 
cocks, with their appurtenances, are the true marks of 

a country gentleman.” It is, however, worth while to 
remark how disrespectiully and ‘contemptuously old 
Burton, in his ‘ Anatomy of Melancholy,’ speaks of 
those not of “ high deeree”” who follow the sports of 
the field. . ‘ Hunting ‘and hawking,” says. he, “ are 
honest recreations and fit some creat men, but are not, 
for every base, inferior person, ‘a whilst. they mount 
their faulconers and dog's, and hunting nag, their wealth 
runs away with their hounds, and their fortunes fly 
away with their hawks.” .To condemn thoughtless ex- 
travagance was good and right in the seventeenth 
century, and is so still, but in our days few mors alists 
would venture on the antithesis of “ great men” and 

‘* base, inferior -persons,” : 

The, engraving at the foot of this article represents a 

falconer carrying two. leses of hawks .to , the field. 
(Hawks are generaily classed in Jeses, and casts of 
toure. . A cast meant two hawks, a led three. . These 
technical words, and many others of less-easy. explana- | 
tion, irequeniay occur in our old writers. ) 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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3 E 


394 THE Fa NyY 


‘Typ immense number of venomous snakes in all 
parts of India are a vast check to the enjoyment of 
every person residing there ; to the timorous, apprehen-. 
sion and fear attend every step; even within their 
houses there is danger of meeting with them; and the 
most courageous and strong-minded cannot help often 
feeling uncasy at the presence of these reptiles*.” The 
largest of these terrible creatures is the boa constrictor ; 
but it is not considered by the natives the most formid- 
able, because its bite is not venomous, and its great 
size somewhat diminishes the danger of surprise. Some 
account of the boa constrictor has been already given 
in No. 36 of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ and, in our present 
statement, we shall, as much as possible, avoid repeat- 
ing the information already supplied. 

The name boa is not of recent introduction, It oceurs 
in Pliny, who doubtless intended by it some one of the 
larger species of European snakes; the name being 
probably derived from the notion, which is still very 
common among the peasantry of Europe, that these 
reptiles introduce themselves among the herds to suck 
the cows. ’. The place which the boa should occupy in 
a regular system is not well determined, and this arises 
from the circumstance that travellers have entered much 
into the history and habits of the larger species of ser- 
pents without carefully describing the animals them- 
selves. We cannot enter minutely into the question, 
but shall be content to follow Blumenbach in stating 
that the enormous reptile usually called the boa 
constrictor is found:in the Kast Indies and in Africa, 
and does not appear to differ much from the Amaru 
of South America, which was worshipped by the 
Antis of Peru. It is the largest of serpents. Its 
average length appears to be about thirty feet, but 
it sometimes attains to forty, fifty, or even sixty feet ; 
it therefore occupies the relative position among rep- 
tiles which the elephant does among quadrupeds, 
and the whale among the inhabitants of the sea. In 
the yenomous species, the poison fangs are in the upper 
jaw,-—-somewhat larger than the other tceth, projected 
forward in the act of biting, but at other times disposed 
along the roof of the mouth. These are wanting in the 
boa, but otherwise the teeth are disposed much in the 
same manner as in other serpents,—being long, sharply 
pointed, and inclined backward ;—of no use for mastica- 
tion, but evidently intended only for the purpose of 
holding the prey. The genus is distinguished by 
having a hook on each side the vent ; the body is com- 
pressed, inflated towards the middle; the tail is pre- 
hensile ; the scales small, particularly upon the back of 
the head. ‘The ground colour of the boa constrictor is 
yellowish-grey, with a large chesinut-coloured inter- 
iupted chain, extending down the back from the head 
to the tip of the tail, and sub-trigonal spots down the 
sides. The name ‘ constrictor” is derived from the 
terrible muscular power by which it crushes to death 
the unfortunate animals embraced in its folds. It is 
true that most serpents possess, in some degree, this 
constrictive power, but it is not commonly used by the 
smakier species in seizing their prey, the mouth and 
teeth alone sufficing for the’purpose. 

Requiring food only at long intervals, the boa con- 
strictor, like most other serpents, spends the greater 
part of its life coiled up asleep, or in a state of stupor, 
in which, if it has recently been gor@ed with food, it 
may be overcome with little danger or difficulty, al- 
though to attack it in an active state would be madness. 
But when it becomes hungry, the gigantic reptile 
assumes an activity strikingly in contrast with the 
loggish inertness it before exhibited, When properly 
in wait for prey, it usually attaches itself to the trunk or 
branches of a tree, in a situation likely to be yisited by 
juadrupeds for the sake of pasture or water. In this 

* Johnson’s ‘ Indian Field Sports,’ p. 177, 


MAGAZINE. f[OctopErR }], 
posture it swing’s about, as if a branch or pendent of the 
iree, until some unhappy animal approaches, and then, 
suddenly relinquishing its position, it seizes the un- 
suspecting victim, and coils its body spirally around the 
ihroat and chest. After a few ineffectual cries and 
‘trugeles, the poor entangled animal is suffocated and 
expires. It is to he remarked that, in producing this 
‘ fFect, the serpent does not merely wreathe itself around 
ihe prey, but places fold over fold, as if desirous of- 
dding as much weight as possible to the muscular 
‘ffort; these folds are then gradually tightened with 
‘uch immense force as to crush the principal bones, and 
(hus not only to destroy the animal, but to bring its 
carcase into a state the most easy for its being swallowed. 
‘‘his having been effected, the boa addresses himself to 
ihe task of swallowing the carcase. Having pushed 
the limbs into the most convenient position, and covered 
the snrface with its glutinous saliva, the serpent takes 
ihe muzzle of the prey into its mouth, which is capable 
of vast expansion ; and, by a succession of wonderful 
hiuscular contractions, the rest of the body is gradually 
cvawn In, with a steady and regular motion, As the 
iaass advances in the gullet, the parts through which it 
las passed resume their former dimensions, though its 
immediate position is always indicated by an external 
protuberance. ‘Their prey generally consists of dogs, 
goats, deer, and the smaller sorts of game, Bishop 
ieber considers as quite untrue the stories of their at- 
tacking such large animals as the buffalo or the chetah ; 
but men are by no means exempt from their attacks. 
‘This is shown by the following aneedote, which, with 
the engraving in illustration, is copied, by permission, 
from the new volume of the ‘ Oriental Annual.’ The 
original picture from which the engraying is taken was 
painted by Mr. W. Daniell, and is in the possession 
of the Baron de Noual de la Loyrie. 

‘“ A few years before our visit to Caleutta, the cap- 
tain of a country ship, while passing the Sunderbunds, 
sent a boat into one of the creeks to obtain some fresh 
fruits which are cultivated by the few miserable in- 
habitants of this inhospitable region. Haying reached 
the shore, the crew moored the boat under a bank, and 
left one of their party to take care of her. During 
their absence, the lascar, who remained in charge of the 
boat, overcome by heat, lay down under the seats and 
fell asleep. Whilst he was in this happy state of un- 
consciousness, an enormous hoa constri¢ior emerged 
from the jungle, reached the boat, had already coiled 
its huge body round the sleeper, and was in the very 
act of crushing him to death, when his companions 
fortunately returned at this auspicious moment; and, 
attacking the monstcr, seyered a portion of its tail, 
which so disabled it that it no longer retained the power 
of doing mischief. ‘The snake was then easily des- 
patched, and found to measure sixty-two feet and some 
inches in length,” 

In Brazil, according to Koster, an opinion prevails 
that whoever has been bit by the boa constrictor has 
nothing to fear from any other snake, ‘The notion is 
probably a prejudice. , 





CORFU. 


CorFvu is the most northern, and first in rank, though 
not the largest, of the seven islands which compose the 
republic of the Ionian Islands; and, from its strength 
and position, is considered the key of the Adriatic. It 
lies along the eoast of Albania, from which it is sepa- 
rated by a channel, varying from twelve to thirteen 
miles wide. Its Jeneth, in the direction of north-west 
and south-east, is about thirty-five miles, and of a very 
irregular breadth; the surface is covered with moun- 


tains, moderately high, rugged, and detached, inter- 


= 


1834.) 


spersed with beautiful plains, thickly studded with olive 
proves and vineyards, and the scenery, if not very 
romantic, is certainly very pleasing. Compared with 


the natural advantages of this island, neither agri- 


culture nor commerce are sufficiently extended,—partly 
consequent on the innate indolence of the natives, and 
partly on the restraints which have heretofore been 
imposed on them by their conquerors, the evil effects 
of which it will require some time to remove. 

The town is situated on the eastern side of the island, 
about four miles from the Albanian coast; the entrance 
to the port is strikingly beautiful ;—the imposing ap- 
pearance of the batteries—the two lofty citadels which 
flank’ the town—the port gradually opening on the 
view—and the small island of Vido, formerly shaded 
with olive-trees, but now bristling with cannon—all 
announce the approach to a place of great 1mportance. 
To the eastward are seen the rneged mountains of 
Albania, with the stupendous range of Pindus soaring 
above them, and addine magnificence to the beauty of 
the scenery which the island itself presents. ‘The bay 
offers a secure anchorage for any number of vessels of 
the largest class, and is easily accessible either from the 
northward or southward; the port is small, but there is 
a mole, within which galleys and small vessels can lie 
in the greatest safety. The Channel of Corft, being 
surrounded by high land, is subject to calms; but, 
during the summer months, the sea-breeze generally 
prevails throughout the day, and alleviates the heat, 
which. is otherwise intense, though the climate is, on 
the whole, very healthy. Thunder-storms, accompanied 
by vivid and dangerous lightning, are very common, 
and have frequently occasioned much damage. 

Of late years, the town has been greatly improved ; 
—sewers have been constructed, the roads macadamized, 
and the low, unhealthy houses and narrow streets begin 
to disappear before the more improved style of modern 
building. The streets are built with regularity: there 
are several good inns, a small theatre for the perform- 
ance of Italian operas, and a vast number of churches, 
most of which have been built by private individuals. 
Of these the richest is that of St. Spiridione, where are 


deposited the remains of that saint, the patron of the | 


town; his body (said to be preserved entire) is in a 
silver shrine, richly decorated with precious stones, and 
the Greeks, who are equally bigoted, credulous, and 
superstitious with those of the Latin Church, are con- 
tinually making offerings to this shrine. The festival 
of this saint is celebrated with the greatest pomp; the 
procession is attended not only by the Greeks but by 
all the principal British residents—the garrison under 
arms, and saluted by the batteries. Thousands from 
all parts, not only of Corfu, but of the other islands, 
flock into the town for the occasion. The night of 
Holy Thursday is especially devoted to processions ;— 
each church and chapel has its own, and a kind of 
emulation for excellence prevails, so that the blaze of 
wax tapers rivals the light of day. ‘The season of the 
carnival is kept up with great gaiety. The religion of 
the state is that of the Greek Church, at the head of 
which is the protopapas, elected by the nobility and 
clergy ; he possesses episcopal powers, but is dependent 
on the patriarch of Constantinople ;—his term of office 
is only for five years, when he retires undistinguished 
from the body of the clergy, save by the privilege of 
wearing some peculiar ornament to his dress. 

Between the citadel and the town is a fine esplanade, 
planted with trees, forming the evening promenade 
of the inhabitants, which is generally enlivened by 
one of the regimental bands; it is ornamented at one 
end by a very pretty Grecian fountain, and at the other 
stands the palace cf St. Michael and St. George 
(recently erected of Maltese stone), the residence of 


the British Lord High Commissioner, and where the | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


395 
senate hold their sittings. The old Venetian palace, 
standing at the foot of the citadel, has been converted 
Into an university, which was opened in 1824, on the 
most liberal principles, and the expenses of the student 
are but trifling. The dress of the professors is an 
imitation of the ancient Greek philosophers, and that of 
the students, also from the antique, is at once both pic- 
turesque and classical. The success of this institution 
is amply repaying the most ardent expectations of its 
founders,—the classes being crowdedly attended, and 
the number of students constantly increasing. The 
Venetian senate forbade all establishments for public 
education, and made every attempt to banish the Greek 
language from these islands, and thereby to destroy all 
spirit of nationality. The Italian was the language of 
all public acts,—of the bar, and of the pulpit—and 
latterly became generally in use in private society. 
Venetian manners and customs became prevalent, 
and, in the city, those who aspired to any considera- 
tion adopted the dress as well as the habits of their 
masters ; so that, even to this day, the Greek costume 
is only worn by the lower orders, or the country 
people. Nevertheless, Corfi’ may now be considered 
as one of the chief seats of Greek literature, and the 
best elementary works in the Romaic have issued from 
its press. : 

The citadel commands the town and harbour, and is 
entirely isolated by a deep moat, which admits the sea 
on both sides; the base of the hill is entirely enclosed 
by walls, within which are the barracks, hospitals, store- 
houses, and magazines, also quarters for some of the 
officers attached to the government. On the highest 
of the two peaks ‘is a well-illuminated lighthouse, 
recently erected, and a telegraph which, in the time of 
the French, communicated to another on the hichest 
point of the island, and that to the coast of Italy. Qn 
the citadel is displayed the flag of the Republic, whieh 
has the Union of England in the upper canton of a blue 
field, in which is emblazoned a lion rampant, holding 
seven arrows, emblematical of the seven islands. The 
place is entirely garrisoned by British troops, which, by 
treaty, were to be supported from the revenues of the 
Republic, an expenditure to which they have not been 
found adequate. The greater part of the fortifications 
were built by the Venetians, with whom Corft was a 
post of great importance from its convenient situation 
at the entrance of the Adriatic. The Island of Vido has, 
however, been stronely fortified by the British ;—here 
is the lazaretto, where the performance of quarantine is 
strictly enjoined. 

This island, formerly known by the names of Drapana, 
Scheria, Phoeacia, and Corcyra, was originally colonized 
by the Corinthians, about 750 years before the Christian 
era; they built a town, the remains of which may still 
be traced on the shores of the bay, immediately to the 
southward of the present port, where a suburb of the 
modern city now stands. It soon arrived at consider- 
able importance, especially as a naval power, and it is 
remarkable that the first naval combat recorded in 
history occurred between this colony and the mother 
country. Homer notices them as the “ well-rowing 
Corcyreans ;” and about four miles to the southward of 
the town is a bay, where Ulysses is said to have landed 
after the Trojan war, in which is a rock still called 
“ Ulysses’ ship.” In the Persian war, Corcyra sent 
sixty galleys to the Grecian fleet, and its alliance was 
courted by the various petty republics of the continent. 
That the Corcyreans were justly proud of their naval 
supremacy, we may infer from the circumstance of their 
coins bearing on the reverse the image of a vessei’s 
prow. Of its antiquities nothing now remains except 
the ruins of a temple, probably to Neptune, which wag 
discovered in 1828, situated on a bank, overlooking the 


sea, about two miles south of the town. 
3 E 2 


$98 


The Corcyreans submitted to Alexander, and remained 
subject to the kings of Macedon till they were de- 
livered by the Romans in the time of Perses, from 
which period they enjoyed their liberty till the reign of 
Vespasian, when they underwent the common fate of 
the other Greek islands. In 1072 it was conquered by 
Robert Guiscard, one of the Norman chiefs then in 
Italy, who afterwards usurped the throne of Naples, to 
which kingdom Corfu remained long subject; but 
during the dissensions which agitated that country it 
threw off its allegiance, and placed itself under the pro- 
tection of the Venetian Republic, in the year 1322. 
Venice was, however, obliged to pay the sum of 30,000 
ducats for the quiet possession, in which they remained 
undisturbed till the year 1537, when 25,000 ‘Turks 
landed under Barbarossa, but failed in their attempts 
to take the place. ‘The island was governed by a Pro- 
veditore, and treated more like a conquered country 
than a colony. In 1716, the Turks made another 
unsuccessful attempt on Corfi. On the fall of the 
Venetian republic in 1797, it was seized by the French, 
and was ceded to them, by the treaty of Campo Formio, 
in the sume year. ‘Two years afterwards it was reduced 
by the combined fleets of Turkey and Russia, and con- 
stituted an independent republic under their mutual 
protection. In 1807 it again fell into the power of 
France, who retained it till 1814, when it surrendered 
to the British, and was placed under their protection 
by the treaty of Vienna in 1815, with the other islands 
forming this republic. ‘The senate hold their sittings 


always at Corfu, under the authority of the British 
representative, termed the Lord High Commissioner, | 


who chiefly resides in this island. Ali Pasha was 
exceedingly anxious to obtain possession of Corft, not 
only for commercial purposes, but as a military barrier 
to his continental dominions. 

As long as Corfti was in the hands of the Venetians 
its commerce was greatly shackled, both on account of 
the fear of Ottoman aggrandizement and their own 
monopolizing system, neither has it yet been able to 
recover its proper level. The chief exports are salt, 
olives, and oil; but the land produces excellent fruits, 
especially oranges, citrons, and grapes, with a great 
variety of vegetables; bees’ wax and honey are also 
abundant. Grain and cattle are the principal imports, 
nearly to the amount of half the consumption, which 
are brought from the main land, and extensive fisheries 
were carried on in the channel, but these, with the salt- 
works, have latterly fallen greatly into decay. «The 
population of the island is estimated at 50,000, about 
15,000 of whom inhabit the city. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—SeEcrion XXIV. 
Iron.—No. Ill. 


Method of obtaining the Metal from Clay-Ironstone.— 
This ore has, as we have said, nothing metallic in its 
appearance; and no one unacquainted with chemistry 
would suspect that a bar of iron could be extracted 
from it, any more than they would conceive that a 
handful of the red earthy matter which we call rust 
could be forged into a metal. That rust is metallic 
iron combined with oxygen gas and carbonic acid gas, 
which it has absorbed from the atmosphere ; and, in 
like manner, the metal is concealed in the ironstone in 
a state of combination with oxygen gas and carbonic 
acid gas. To separate it from these and the other 
foreign ingredients which enter into the composition of 
the ore constitutes the operation called smelting (a 
term derived from a German word signifying ‘ to 
melt’), which consists in bringing the clay-ironstone 
in contact, under a very powerful heat, with other sub- 
stances, which, having a stronger attraction for oxygen 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


(October 1}, 


and carbonic acid than iron has, destroy the combina- 
tion, and set the iron free. 

The ore, when taken from the mine, is broken into 
small pieces about the size of an egg, and is then sub- 
jected to the process of roasting, which is perfurmed by 
making a long oblong pile of the broken ore, with 
intervening layers of small coal, forming a heap about 
thirty feet long, fifteen feet broad, and five feet high, 
—sloping at the top like the ridge of a house. There 
is a thick layer of coal at the bottom, which is kindled 
when the pile is completed; the whole is gradually 
ignited, and then left to burn for five or six days, and, 
when cool, the ore is ready for the smelting-furnace. 
The roasted ore has changed its colour from grey 
to red, brown, or blackish-brown; has parted with its 
carbonic acid gas, as well as the sulphur, and other 
inflammable substances it may have contained, and has 
lost from twenty to thirty per cent. of its weight. 

The furnace is usually a square pyramidal tower of 
strong masonry, or brick-work, from forty to fifty feet 
high, similar to the annexed figure : 





When first kindled, the fire is made at the bottom of 
the interior cavity, which is gradually filled with a mix- 
ture of ore, coke, and limestone, in the proportions of 
four of coke, rather more than three of ore, and one of 
limestone. The heat is urged by compressed air being 
forced through tubes in the sides into the cavity, by 
means of powerful bellows, worked by a steam-engine. 
The nixture is in a highly heated state in the higher part 
of the furnace, and gradually sinks to that part where 
the heat, urged by the blast, is most intense, and then it 
becomes in a state of semi-fusion. Here the more com- 
plete decomposition takes place; and the mass being 
now fluid, the metal, by its greater specific gravity, 
sinks to the bottom, where it is allowed to run out, from 
time to time, by opening an aperture left for the pur- 
pose. This is cast-iron, and the ore yieids on an ave- 
rage about thirty per cent. of it. I is conducted into 
moulds, made with dry sand, on the ground, near the ori- 
fice, for the various things made of cast-iron,—from vast 
beams, wheels, and cylinders of steam-engines, to the 
sinallest articles of domestic use; or it is conducted into 
moulds for the bars of pig-zron,—the form in which 
cast-iron is sold as a raw material. ‘The term “ pig- 
iron,” like many others in the arts, was given by the 
workmen, and, as may be supposed, it has not a very 
profound or refined etymology. The metal is run off 
into a main channel which they call the sow, and the 
bars at right angles to it they liken to pigs sucking the 
teats of the sow. As the ore sinks down, a fresh supply 
is poured in at the top of the furnace, which is kept 


1834.] 


constantly going, and is never allowed to cool unless | 


for the purpose of repair, or when it is blown out, as it 
is termed, by a stoppage of the works. 


comes from the pit, but is first brought to the state of 
coke, or mineral charcoal, which is done by a process 
very similar to that employed for making charcoal from 
wood ;—the coal being brought to a red heat, in heaps 
so covered as to prevent free exposure to the air, and 
thus the bituinen is driven off, leaving a cinder behind 
like that which remains in the retorts used at the gas- 
works. The coke serves not only as a fuel for producing 
the heat, but performs other important functions, for it 
attracts the oxygen from the ore, and enters into combi- 
nation with the iron, in the state of pure carbon. 

The purpose of adding the limestone is to facilitate the 
melting of the ore, the lime acting the part of a flu, as 
it is termed, from flurus, a Latin word, signifying a 
flowing or streaming. ‘There are certain mineral sub- 
stances which, singly, will resist the action of the most 
violent heat, but, when mixed together, become fusible 
at comparatively low temperatures. Thus silica, or the 
earth of flints, is infusible in a very intense heat, but on 
the addition of a portion of the mineral alkali soda, it 
melts readily at a low heat and forms glass. The lime- 
stone acts upon the earths of flint and clay, which enter 
into the composition of the ore, in the same way as the 
soda acts in making glass from sand, and thus a fluid is 
obtained ; and as the particles in the liquid mixture have 
free motion, the heavier ones, that is, the iron, sink to 
the bottom, and the lighter earthy matter rises to the 
top, and floats on the surface of the melted iron, form- 
ing what is called “‘ slag.” Any one passing by an 
iron-work must have noticed the heaps of glassy-looking 
matter, of various colours, thrown aside as rubbish, and 
which is often used for mending the roads in the neigh- 
bourhood ;—this Is the slag. 

Simple as the above process of smelting may seem to 
be, great skill is required i conducting it, in order 
to obtain the greatest amount of metal and the best 
quality of iron which the particular ore is capable of 
affording. Clay-ironstone, as it was shown in the last 
section, 1S very various in quality, both as regards the 
quantity of iron it contains and the foreign ingredients 
with which that is mixed, and the process to which it is 
to be subjected in the smelting-furnace must be varied 
accordingly. What that is to be is determined by a 
series Of trials, at first on the small scale, which is called 
an assaying of the ore, from the French verb essayer, 
** to make trial of.” If the quantity of earthy matter 
exceeds fifteen per cent. the ore carinot be advantageously 
smelted by itself, and it is mixed with ore of a richer 
quality. Such amixture is often advantageous on other 
accounts, for an ore that is difficult to melt by itself is 
fused with comparative ease when mixed with an ore of 
a different quality. The nature of the limestone is also 
a material consideration; for the effect of limestone 
as a flux depends not only on its own composition, 
which within certain limits is variable, but also on that 
of the ore with which it is to be mixed. Nothing but 
actual trial can determine what proportion of any par- 
ticular limestone is best adapted to act as a flux upon 
any particular clay-ironstone. 

Two hundred years ago all the iron ore of this coun- 
try was sinelted with wood-charcoal, but the consump- 
tion of wood was so enormous that the manufacture 
upon a large scale must have ceased had not a method 
been discovered of using coal instead by converting it 
into coke. As hard wood makes the best charcoal, so 
is a pit-coal which yields a compact, hard, heavy coke 
the best for the smelting-furnace, because a coke of that 
kind stands the blast best. It is very important also to 
select a coal as free as possible from sulphur in any 
shape. 


THE PENNY 


of a steam-engine. 
It will be observed that the coal is not used as it 


“ment commonly used. 


MAGAZINE. 397 

We have mentioned that the heat of the furnace is 
urged by a blast of condensed air thrown in by means 
An improvement has lately been 
introduced at the Clyde Iron Works, wich promises to 
be of immense advantage by materially reducing the 
cost of the smelting. This consists in sending in a 
blast of hot, instead of cold, air. When a blast of coid | 
air is thrown in, a great part of the heat of the furnace 
is absorbed by the cold air, and therefore a large 
amount of the fuel is wasted. Now it has been found 
by experiment that the coal necessary to heat the air 
before it is thrown into the furnace is very considerably 
less than that which is required to afford the coke ne- 
cessary to heat it after it is thrown in. Some successful 
experiments have also been made for smelting with the 
coal, and thus saving the waste of converting it into 
coke. 

Cast-iron, or pig-iron, or crude-iron, for it is known 
by all these names, is not a pure substance, but contains 
usually about one forty-third part of its weight of carbon, 
which it obtains from the coke, or charcoal, in the 
process of smelting. The presence of carbon in its 
composition may be easily shown by dropping a little 
diluted muriatic acid on polished cast-iron, when the 
acid dissolves a portion of the iron, and a film of black 
carbon is left behind, because it is not soluble in the 
acid. ‘The quantity of carbon depends a good deal 
upon the quality of the fuel; and if cast-iron be exposed 
in a melted state for a length of time to charcoal, and 
free access of oxygen be prevented, the iron will absorb 
so much carbon as to be converted into plumbago, or 
that substance commonly called black-lead, of which 
pencils are made, but which has not a particle of lead in 
its composition. Cast-iron is neither ductile nor malle- 
able, but is, on the contrary, very brittle ; and it melts 
with such facility at a red heat that it cannot be welded, 
whereas pure iron is one of the most infusible of the 
metals. It can be fused to such a degree of liquidity 
that it may be poured into very minute cavities, as we 
see by those beautiful ornaments, of the most delicate 
forms, manufactured at Berlin, and at Sain, near Neu- 
wied, on the Rhine. 

In our next section, we shall give some account of 
the mode of converting cast-iron into malleable iron, 
and of the other ores of this metal. 


OPIUM. 


Orium is a powerful inebriating and narcotic drug 
formed of the concrete juice of the poppy. ‘This plant 
is well known in England, where, as well as in the 
southern countries of Europe, it is found growing wild, 
although it appears to have come originally from Asia. 
Opium is chiefly prepared from the poppy in India, 
Turkey, and Persia, in which countries it is carefully 
cultivated for that exclusive purpose. ‘The white poppy 
is also extensively raised in France and other countries 
of Europe for the sake of its capsules, and of the useful 
and bland oil extracted from its seeds. ‘The poppy has 
also been cultivated, and opium made, in England; 
but there seems little probability that it will ever be 
raised in this country to any considerable extent. 

The process by which the drug is obtained from the 
plant is nearly the same in all the countries where It is 
cultivated. The plant is reared most extensively in 
India, and opium forms the staple commodity of many 
provinces, in which the following is the mode of treat- 
It is an object of careful atten- 
tion to keep the plants at a due distance from each 
other. If the seed happens to have been too thickly 
sown, some of the young: plants are pulled up and used 
as potherbs ; but when they have attained a foot and 
half in height they are considered unfit for that use, 
from their intoxicating nature. The plant flowers in 


398 


February, and the opium is extracted in March or 
April, according to the period of sowing. The white 
poppy affords a more abundant supply of opium than 
the red; but there is no apparent difference in tlre 
quality of the product. When the flowers have fallen, 
and the capsules assume a whitish colour, they are 
wounded with a three-toothed instrument, which is 
drawn from the top to the bottom of the capsule so as 
to penetrate its skin. ‘This is done in the evening’, and 
the opium is gathered the next morning. The wounds 
in each capsule are repeated for three successive days, 
and in general fifteen days suffice thus to wound all 
the capsules in a field, and to gather all the opium. 
From the incisions a milky juice exudes which thickens 
on exposure to the air, and is carefully scraped off with 
a shell or a small iron instrument previously dipped in 
oi]. It is afterwards worked in an iron pot in the heat 
of the sun, until it is of a consistence to be formed into 
thick cakes of about four pounds weight. These are 
covered with the leaves of poppy, tobacco, or some 
other vegetable, to prevent their sticking together; and 
in this condition they are dried and packed away, for 
exportation, in chests lined with hides, each containing 
forty cakes and weighing about 150 lbs. The drug 
thus prepared brings in India about 15s. a pound. 

The raising of opium is a business of much delicacy ; 
the poppy being a very tender plant, liable to injury 
from insects, wind, hail, or considerable rain. The 
produce seldom agrees with what might be stated as 
the average amount, but generally runs in extremes, 
While one cultivator is disappointed, another is an 
immense gainer; and while one season will not pay 
the expenses of culture, another enriches all the culti- 
vators. This circumstance renders the pursuit in the 
hiehest degree alluring, from the excitement, uncer- 
tainty, and hope connected with it. 

The opium of India is, in the peculiar properties of 
the drug, inferior to that of Turkey. The latter is 
usually exhibited in flat pieces covered with leaves. It 
has a peculiar, strong, heavy, narcotic odour, with a 
bitter taste, accompanied by a sensation of acrid heat, 
or of biting, on the tongue and lips, if it be well 
chewed. Its colour when good is reddish-brown or 
fawn-coloured ; and its texture is compact and uniform. 
When soft, it is tenacious, but it becomes hard from 
long exposure to the air, and breaks with an uniform 
shining fracture. East India opium is equally nauseous 
and more bitter to the taste than Turkey opium; but it 
is less acrimonious. It is also darker in its colour, and 
less plastic, but quite as tenacious, Good Turkey 
opium yields nearly three times the quantity of ?or- 
phia, or of the peculiar principle of the drug, than that 
of India. The price of Turkey opium, in bond, was, 
in 1831, 17s. or 18s. a pound; and the duty amounted 
to 4s. 

Opium is, in some form or other, very extensively 
used in Turkey, Persia, and India; but its oreatest 
consumption is in China and the surrounding countries, 
where the habit of smoking it has become universal. 
The Chinese seethe or boil the crude drug, and by this 
process the resinous or gummy impurities are separated 
and the remaining extract only is reserved for use. A 
small ball of it, placed in a large wooden pipe with 
some combustible matter, is lighted, and the amateur 
proceeds to inhale four or five whiffs, when he lies down 
aud resigns himself to his dreams, which are said to 
have no inconsiderable resemblance to the sensation 
produced by inhaling the oxide of azote. Those who 
do not carry this indulgence to excess, do not, it is said, 
experience any ill effects from it—but this is-true of 


most indulgences properly moderated. The people of | 


Borneo and Sumatra subject the drite to nearly the 
same preparation as the Chinese, and make use of it in 
much the same manner, The convivial excesses cf the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


fOcroser II, 


latter probably, in an equal degree, resemble those of 
the Sumatrans. At convivial parties amone them, a 
dish of the prepared opium is brought in with a lamp; 
and then the host, taking a large pipe, puts into it one 
of the small balls we have mentioned. In smoking, 
the smoke which has been inhaled is blown out through 
the nostrils, and, if the smoker be an adept, through 
the passages of the ears and eyés. - He seldom takes 
more than three or four whiffs before he passes it round 
to the rest of the company (one pipe serving them all), 
who act in the same manner, and thus continue smoking’ 
until the whole party is completely intoxicated. 

The people of Java are addicted in a very remarkable 
degree to excess in the use of opium. Such of the 
natives or slaves as have been rendered desperate by 
the pressure of disappointment or misfortune give 
themselves up entirely to the baneful indulgence, until 
their minds are raised to a state of frightful excitement, 
or rather frenzy. In this state they rush forth with 
dreadful purposes against all by whom they think they 
have been wronged or offended. They run along 
shouting “ Amok! amok!” or “ Kall! kill!” and in 
their blind fury stab at every person they meet until 
self-preservation obliges the people to kill them as we 
kill a mad dog. This is what is termed “ running a- 
muck,” ‘This is most commonly the result of the strong 
propensity of the people to gambling, by which they 
are often deprived of all they possess in the world, and, 
‘“ worst loss of all!’ even lose their own self-respect. 
The immediate destruction of the muck-runners is an- 
thorised by the law in Java. 

In some parts of India, opium is presented at visits 
and entertainments in the same familiar manner as the 
snuff-box in Europe. There is in that country a class 
of persons who carry letters and run with messages 
through the provinces. With no other provision than 
a piece of opium, a bag of rice, and a pot to draw 
water from the wells, these men perform journeys that 
would scarcely be credited in this country. In the 
same manner the trackless deserts of the different 
countries between the Indus and Mediterranean are 
traversed by foot messengets by the aid of this drug, 
with a few dates perhaps, and a piece of coarse bread. 
The old traveller, Sir Thomas Herbert, very well 
describes this use of opium. ‘‘ Opium (the Juice of 
poppie) is of wreat use there also (in Persia): good, 
if taken moderately ; bad, nay mortal, if beyond mea- 
sure: but by practice they make that familiar which 
would kill us; so that their medicine is our poyson. 
They chaw it much,—for it helps catarrhs, cowardize, 
and the epilepsie ; and, which is admirable, some extra- 
ordinary foot-posts they have who, by continual chawing 
this, with some other confection, are enabled to run 
day and night without intermission, seeming to be ina 
constant dreain or giddiness, seeing but not knowing 
whom they meet, though well acquainted, and miss not 
their intended places, by a strange efhicacy expulsing 
the tedious thoughts of travel, and rarely * for some 
dayes deceiving the body of its reasonable rest and 
lodeing.’ 

The very extensive use of this drug in Turkey 
and Persia is no doubt in a great degree owing to the 
prohibition of intoxicating liquors by the Mohammedan 
law. It was a substitute for them. Accordingly the 
use of the drug has much declined in Turkey of late 
years, since those who would otherwise have been 
opium-eaters have learned to indulge in wine and 
arrack. Nevertheless, the occasional use of opium is 
far from having ceased, nor has the rare of Theriakts, 
or habitual opium-eaters, become extinct, although a 
traveller may have been a considerable time in Con- ° 
stantinople without having seen one. They frequent 
the coffee-houses near Yeni-Kapoussi, and are there 
| * Rarely —wonderfully. 


1834. ] 


easily distinguished from the more temperate visiters of 
the place. Mr. Madden, in his ‘ Travels in Turkey,’ 
&c., well describes the appearance which these pitiable 
objects present. “ Their gestures were frightful. 
Those who were completely under the jnfluence of 
opium talked incoherently ; their features were flushed, 
their eyes had an unnatural brilliancy, and the general 
expression of their countenance was horridly wild. 
The effect is usually produced in two hours, aud lasts 
four or five. ‘The dose varies from three graius toa 
drachm, The debility, both moral and physical, atten- 
dant on its excitement is terrible: the appetite is soon 
destroyed, and every fibre in the body trembles; the 
nerves of the neck become affected, and the muscles 
eet rigid,—I have seen several in this place who had 
wry necks and contracted fingers; but still they could 
not abandon the custom. ‘They are miserable until the 
hour arrives for taking their daily dose.” We cannot 
wonder at this. Habits of inebriety, even from ordi- 
nary stimulants, are not often overcome; and the 
visions of beauty and splendour which opium superadds, 
renders it all but impossible to relinquish the habitual in- 
duleence which has once been created. They know that 
the indulgence shortens life, and that the opium-eater 
dies of old’ age in lis youth. ‘They know that one who 
begins at twenty rarely outlives thirty, and scarcely 
ever thirty-six. But this knowledge has no effect, and 
all remonstrance 1s unavailing. When a friend expos- 
tulates, the opium-eater answers with impatience at his 
ignorance, and with the cold and hanghty pity of one 
who has the secret of happiness, of which the other 
knows nothing. To remonstrance we have known such 
answers given as this :—‘** Opium conveys me to Para- 
dise: and when I come hack to the world again I am 
miserable because I have been ‘there; therefore I take 
opium that I may return thither.” 

In Persia the use of opium is now probably more 
general than in Turkey, although in that country it is 
rarely that any one gives himself up so entirely to the 
habit as the Turkish theriaki. There is nothing in Persia 
which so strongly reminds an Englishman of g@in-drink- 
ine in his own country, as to observe in the bazaars 
groups of squalid, ragged, lean, and trembling: figures 
(women as well as men), assembled in the morning 
around the opium stalls, and waiting with impatience 
until they receive their quantum of the pleasant poison. 
It is also remarked, in many of the large towns of 
that country, that the beggars in the streets beseech the 
passenger, by all that is holy and merciful, by all that 
a Moslem venerates, and by his hopes of salvation, to 
give a para to buy—not bread—but opium—opium to 
save him from death. Women in that country even 
give opium to their children to quiet them when they 
are crying. 

In England, the Turkey opium is chiefly used, and is 
little employed except for medical purposes. The 
author of ‘ The English Opium-Eater,’ who describes 
with great intensity the delights and miseries of habitual 
opium-taking, considered that it was coming into nse 
in this country as an exhilarant and inebriant as well 
amone the working class as among sedentary men. 


But this statement does not appear to be confirmed by. 


the official accounts of the quantity consumed. On 
the average of the last fiye years, about 28,000 lbs. 
have yearly been retained for home consumption in 
this country ; and this quantity does not indicate an 
increase in the consumption much greater than the 
medical wants of an increased population might be sup- 
posed to demand. ‘The duty was lowered to its present 
amount in 1828; previously it was 9s. in the pound. 





Bacon.—Bacon thought himself born for the use of man- 
kind; and, in one of his letters to Father Fulgentio, he 
styles himself “ the servant of posterity,” 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


399 


SUBTERRANEAN PASSAGES AT ELTHAM PALACE. 


Tue following account of these recently-discovered pas- 
sages is taken from a small pamphlet lately published at 
Greenwich. 

The kings of England had a palace at Eltham at a very 
early period; and viewing the extensive excavations, with 
the decoys, &c., and connecting them with the history of the 
reign of Henry III., when this mode of security and defence 
was employed, it is probable the palace was first built by this 
king. Tradition has always kept up a belief of the existence 
of an underground passage to Blackheath, Greenwich, or the 
river; and it was affirmed in the neighbourhood that, at 
Middle Park, connected with these passages, there were 
one or more apartments underground for sixty horses. 

Under the ground-floor of one of the apartments of the 
palace, a trap-door opens into a room underground, ten feet 


_by five feet ; and, proceeding from it, a narrow passage, of 


about ten feet in length, conducts the passenger to the 
series of passages, with decoys, stairs, and shafts, some of 
which are vertical, and others on an inclined plane, which 
were once used for admitting air, and for hurling down 
missiles and pitch- balls upon enemies, according to the mode 
of defence in those ancient times; and it is worthy of notice 
that, at points where weapons from above could assail the 
enemy with the greatest effect, there these shafts verge and 
concentrate. About 500 feet of passage have been entered, 
and passed through, in a direction west, towards Middle 
Park, and under the moat for 200 feet. The arch is broken 
into in the field leading from Eltham to Mottingham, but 
still the brick-work of the arch can be traced farther, pro- 
ceeding in the same direction. The remains of two iron 
gates, completely carbonized, were found in that part of the 
passage under the moat; and large stalactites, formed of 
super-carbonate of lime, hung down from the roof of the arch, 
which sufficiently indicate the lapse of time since these pas- 
sages were entered. 

The newspapers state that the discovery of these passages 
has revived many half-forgotten stories of similar labyrinths 
elsewhere. Such a passage is said to exist beneath St. 
John’s Gate, Clerkenwell, extending by one branch to the 
vaults of St. James's Church, and by another to Canonbury 
House, Islington, formerly a favourite residence of Queen 
Elizabeth ; and another to Aldgate. There may have been 
such passages, but that they ever extended so far, or that 
they now exist, is not very hkely. 


Dutch Clerks.—-Even an English merchant would be 
astonished to see the wonderful arithmetical attainments of 
stripling clerks in any of the Dutch counting-houses, and 
the quantity of comphcated business which they discharge 
in the course of the day,—the order of their books, the 
rapidity and certainty of their calculation, according to the 
commercial habits and exchange of different countries, and 
the variety of languages which they speak; to which may 
be added the great regularity and length of their attendance, 
and the decency and propriety of their deportment.— Carv’s 
Tour through Holland. 


DELAY. 


° . , ; Delay in close awaite 
Caught hold on me, and thought my steps to stay, 
Feigning full many a fond excuse to prate, 
And time to steal, the treasure of man’s day; . 
Whose smallest minute lost no riches render may. 
Spenser. 


INDIAN RIVERS. 


‘Ti Hindoos’ is the title of a new volume of the 
‘Library of Entertaining Knowledge.’ It furnishes, 
in a popular form, a careful and interesting digest of a 
vast quantity of dispersed information concerning a 
country under British dominion, and concerning a 
people who are our fellow-subjects, and whose history, 
character, and coudition ought therefore not to be in- 


-different to us. ‘The measures which have recently been 


taken to ameliorate the condition of the Hindoos, and the 
attention which has been directed towards India upon 
the recent alteration of the Company’s Charter, seem 
to render such a publication as the present peculiarly 
desirable and opportutie. From the many pleasing em- 
bellishments which the volume contains, we have selected 


400 


the annexed wood-cut ; and the following explanatory 
matter is abridged from an account of the rivers of 
India, in the first chapfer. 

The rivers of India have always been more cele- 
brated than its mountains. Every person throughout 
the civilized world is familiar with the names of the 
Indus and the Ganges, those holy streams which seem 
to the superstitious Hindoo, as the Nile appeared to 
the Egyptian, to be of divine origin. They are cer- 
tainly among the most precious gifts which Nature has 
bestowed upon Hindcostan. By their means, and that 
of numerous tributary or inferior rivers, an amazing 
degree of fertility is maintained in the conntry, and 
which from time immemorial has not only supplied a 
vast population with its produce, but has been enabled 
to satisfy the wants of the rest of the world with its 
superfluities. To us in England it is difficult to form 
an idea of those ‘* ocean streams,” which, in a course 
in some instances of nearly two thousand miles, collect 
the waters of a thousand rivers, and at length flow in 
channels of several Jearues in breadth to the sea. In 
the level lands of Bengal, rivers cannot, of course, 
possess very lofty banks; but palaces, temples, and 
palm-trees of gigantic size shoot up from the water’s 
edge, and are visible to a great distance; yet in sailing 
up and down these majestic streams the eye is fre- 
quently unable to descry the opposite banks. Except 
in the rainy season the surface of the waters, rarely 
ruffled with winds, is as smooth as a mirror, and beau- 
tifully reflects the glorious hues which dawn or sunset 
spreads over the tropical skies, with the lazy, lingering 
sail floating like a dream over its surface. Towards 
the mouth, however, this tranquillity is twice a day dis- 
turbed by the tide, which, particularly in the Indus, 
rushes with indescribable violence against the stream 
with what is commonly called the mascaret or bore, 
and endangers the banks which encounter it. It was 
this phenomenon that. astonished the soldiers of Alex- 
ander, who, accustomed to the tideless waves of the 
Mediterranean, knew not how to account for this war 
of waters, which travellers have described with wonder, 
and poets, ever in search of new imagery, have invested 
with the pomp of imagination ; but words fail to convey 
an adequate idea ofthe awe and terror it inspires when, 
bursting in thunder, it shakes the shores like an earth- 
quake, 
the cubic feet of water, dt one of these mighty 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Still less can the calculation of the number of 





[OcronER 1], 1834. 


streams hurls headlong every moment against the oppo- 
sing waves of the ocean, gwive any conception of the 
magnificent struggle, to witness which alone is worth a 
pilgrimage to the Indus or the Orellana. 

Of all the rivers of India, the Ganges is the most 
sacred. It is, in the estimation of the natives, a god; 
and the most secure way to Heaven is througl its 
waters. Hence, whenever this is possible, the Hindoo 
comes to Hs banks to die, and piously drowns in it his 
parents and relations to ensure their eternal happiness. 
With the converse of the feeling of the Ghiber, who 
would consider the eternal fire—the object of his wor- 
ship—polluted by the touch of a corpse, the Hindoo 
casts the dead naked into the sacred stream; so that 
those who sail upon the Ganges have often to make 
their way through shoals of livid corpses, floating down 
in various stages of corruption and decay towards the 
sea. This stream rises among the roots of the Hima- 
laya mountains, on the Indian side of the range. . It 
very soon becomes of considerable depth, and navigable 
for the light barks of the country, but before the con- 
fluence with the Jumna it is fordable in many places. 
The depth of the Ganges is not materially influenced 
by the melting of the snows, though, like all other 
tropical rivers, it overflows the surrounding plains, in 
some places, for more than a hundred miles in extent ; 
at which time nothing is visible but the lofty palm- 
trees, the villages, which are built on elevated sites, and 
a few mounds, the sites of ruined hamlets. Travelling 
is at this period performed in boats, in which the Hin- 
doo skims over his rice-fields and gardens, which are 
then imbibing the moisture necessary to their fertility. 
The prospect is singular but monotonous, as every field 
is similar to the next, and the appearance of the country 
upon the subsidence of the waters is anything but pic- 
turesque. At the distance of five hundred miles from 
the sea, the Ganges is thirty feet deep at low water, 


and never becomes shallow until at its mouth, the bars 


and banks of sand thrown up by the contending waters 
of the rivers and the sea, choke its channel and render 
it unnavigable to large vessels. At the distance of 
two hundred miles from the sea, the river separates into 
two branches; the eastern, which flows towards the 
south-east, retaining the original appellation, and the 
western branch assuming the name of the Hooely. 
Upon the latter, which is navigable by the largest ships, 
Calcutta, the British capital of India, 1 iS is situated. 


° ean ata 

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1.0, The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’ s Inn Fields, ’ 
MAE NDON :—-CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 


‘ 





Printed by Wittiam Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


vs 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledgze. 





163.) PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [Ocroner 18, 1934, 





HOGARTH AND HIS WORKS.—No. VII. 


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mero . .. _[Hogarth’s Perspective.] . . 


THE whimsical comedy of errors, before us is a'lesson| There are but two’ principles’ in perspective, though 
given by Hogarth to his brother painters, though very | the manner of carrying them into effect leads to a large 
much more caricatured than those which he bestowed | number of subordinate rules. If a plate of glass were 
on the rest of the world. Many who have general ideas | interposed between the spectator and the view, and the 
on the subject of perspective will learn less from de- | former kept his eye steadily in one position, he might, 
scription of what it is, than from what they are here | with a lone brush, blacken the glass in such a way as 


shown of what.it is not. - | —* |-just to hide one particular object, in all its parts, with- 
Vou. HI. 3 FE 


te 
> 


402 


Hut intercepting the light from any surrounding object. 
He would thus have what is called a correct outline, 
filled up with black. His second process must be to 
cover the black with shades of other colour, of tint and 
brilliancy altogether the ‘same as those which did come 
from the-object before the black was put on. If he 
could do this perfectly well, another person taking his 
place could not know that one of’ the objects he sees is 
painted on the glass, but would throw it back among 
the rest to the apparent place of the real object. 

- Everything that can be drawn on the @lass is the 
proper outline of some conceivable shape, or, we should 
rather say, of an infinite number of conceivable shapes. 
For if we take any one figure which an outline will 
just hide, that same outline will just hide a larger 
figure of the same sort placed at a greater distance. 
This the outline of the man on the hill is a rational 
outline of & man, but too large for his position,—seeing 
that he is as tall as the tree he stands by. The bur- 
lesque of the figure consists in this, that as we must 
conceive him standing somewhere, we place him on that 
point of the hill which his feet hide: at the Same time 
the outline is so well marked, and the shading so 
strong, that he cannot be on the -hill,—but must be 
even nearer to us than the woman. Observe, that an 
artist who knew his business would find no difficulty 
in drawing a giant on a hill, as tall as a tree, with a 
pipe gigantic as himself, just in the litte of a moderate- 
sized caudle placed much nearer to the spectator, so 
that the candle should in the picture touch the end of 
the pipe,—that it should in reality fall in the line drawn 
from the bowl of the pipe to the eye. And this he 
could do, by preserving the proper degree of colouring 
or shading in such a manner that’no one would suppose 
he meant the two objects to be near one another. In 
another respect, the object (we will not say he is a man) 
is of too dubious a character to hold a candle to; for 
worse than wizards in, general, who, as we all know, 
throw no shadow, he throws his the wrong way: that 
is, if the row of trees below him are to. be depended 
upon. . : | 

The boat is mounting on the bridge, followed by the 
water, for the keel is not visible. But this water is a 
fluid which will not find its level, as is evidetit on its 
horizon. From the appearance of it beyond the church- 
door, there is too much reason to fear that it has erected 
itself perpendicularly, and forced round the body of the 
church, aided by a distant tree which lays hold on the 
roof. i : 

The wageon has taken fright at tle approach of the 
boat, for it cannot*be at the sportsman on the other side 
who is firing at the bird he “cannot see, and is coming 
over the parapet of the bridge, on which it has got the 
further wheel before the nearer oie is over: the horses, 
however, will not follow it, according to appearances, 
which shows their discretion, for the bridge is of a most 
tremendous height, clear from the fishing-rod of the 
nearest fisherman, which with all its elevation and near 
as it is, only just rises above them. The man who holds 
the rod, with the rod and line itself, are a piece out of a 
different picture on a very different scale, and the effect 
is heightened by this circumstance. For on that ac- 
count the length of the rod does not appear very dis- 
proportionate, but only serves to inerease the absurdity 
of surrounding combinations. If it had been made 


shorter and brought down, its immense Jength would: 


have been more clearly seen, but then the frontage of 
the house would have been less incongruous. 

The sign of the inn is another instance in which the 
effect of surrounding faults is increased by making a 


part more nearly true than the rest. The sloping beam: 


looks more close under the arm which supports the sign 
than, from the position of the fastenings, it is possible 
it should be, ‘To see the upper part of the arm in the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Ocroser 18, 


| ‘= 
‘manner shown, the spectator must be nearly on’ the 


level of the woman in the second story; yet it is plain 
that he looks up at the horses. 

It has always appeared to us that Hogarth has, in 
this picture, rather overshot the mark which we conceive 
he proposed to himself. He meant to caricature the 
faults committed by many distinguished artists, who 
have frequently sinned deeply against perspective, par- 
ticularly in the subordinate parts, or those which are of 
less importance to their immediate subjects: witness 
the backgrounds of portrait and historical painters. 
Perhaps, also, he meant to ridicule the manner in 
which perspective is sometimes avowedly sacriticed to 
effect. But this was certainly not successfully done by 
introducing faults which the worst dauber of canvass 
who ever took a pallet in hand never commits in any 
perceptible degree. Such, for example, as hiding a 
sign-post by distant trees, or diminishing objects as 
they approach nearer. ‘The faults of painters are gene- 
rally in quantity, rarely in quality. Many will paint 
sheep which either diminish too much, or not enough, 
as they recede: but who ever turned that which ought 
to be diminution into increase? And the sdtne may be 
said of lights and shadows, which are seldom, if ever, 
transposed through negligence, thotigh the proper 
degree of one or the other is diminished or exaggerated. 
Perhaps. the subject was not a very favourable one, 
or could not have its intention made sufficiently 
manifest to people in general without some mixture of 
gross farce with the comedy. For the large world is 
not yet so well qualified to judge of pictures, upon this 
point at least, as artists are to draw thein; any thing 
to the contrary about increasing love for the aits not- 
withstanding; and false perspective no more exagge- 
rated. than real life in the two apprentices would not 
be within the limits of perceptible caricature. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Secrion XXV. 
Jron.—-No. LY, 


To convert cast-iron into malleable or bar-iron, it is 
again melted in a furnace, and run owt into moulds, 
when the impurities, which usually consist of earthy 
matter ahd oxidized iron, being lighter than the pure 
iron, tise to the surface, and are taken off. When it 
becomes solid, the process is repeated two or three times, 
until the iron, when stirred in the furnace; instead of 
being liquid, clots together into soft, pasty lumps. In 
this state, moderate-sized masses are taken out and are 
beaten, under an enormous hammer, moved by steam- 
power, called the “‘ forge-hammer,” into cakes about an 
inch thick. These cakes are subjected to a strong heat 
in another kind of furnace, and, when softened, one of 
them is taken out and beaten into a short bar, which is 
then welded to another of the cakes, which is beaten 
out in the same way, and thus by additions the bar is 
made of the desired length. The whole bar is then put 
awvain into the furnace, softened, and again beaten under 
the forge-hammer; and, when that process is finished, 
it is common bar or malleable iron. It has now lost 
all the carbon, oxygehn,-and earthy ingredients which 
existed in the cast-iron, and the more complete the 
separation from these the better is the iron. In place 
of being brittle and easily fusible, it has become pos- 
sessed of great tenacity, ductility, and malleability; and 
one of the chief tests of its purity is its power of resist- 
ing a very violent heat without exhibiting any signs of 
fusion. ; 

The quality of the iron smelted with coke from clay- 
ironstone, although greatly improved of late years, is, 
for many purposes, much inferior to the best qualities 
from Sweden, Norway, aud Russia. The difference 
depends partly, perhaps, on the different nature of the 


best ores in these countries, but chiefly on account of 


1834.] 


wood-chareoal heing used in all the processes, from the 
first smelting: of the ore to its conversion into bar-iron. 

In Siberia the charcoal is made from pine, and therefore 
is not so good as that in Sweden, where a great deal of 
hard wood is uged, and this is very much in favour of 
the quality of the manufactured iron. It is said, how- 
ever, that, although iron made by wood-charcoal is 
better for malleable § iron and steel, it is not so good for 
casting as that made with coke. 

How soon the art of manufacturing iron was practised 
in this country is unknown; but heaps of slags and 
cinders in many places now covered with deep soil, 
attest that the smelting of the ore was known to the 
early inhabitants. Previously to the early part of the 
seventeenth century it was entirely smelted with wood. 
In that part of the southern counties of England called 
the Weald of Kent, Surrey, and Sussex, the strata 
contain iron ores of different qualities in considerable 
abundance ; and, where wood was plentiful, there were 
many irnabes in that district. These were of course 
ahandoned when the cheaper method of smelting with 
pit-eoal was discovered. The quantity of wood that 
was consumed in the iron-furnaces in various parts of 
Kngland must have been enormous. Mr. Mushet 
cateulates that the quantity of iron made at the time 
when the method of smelting by pit-coal was first dis- 
covered must have required 14,000 acres of wood to be 
felled annually for the sole purpose of supplying the 
furnaces. All the iron made in France at the present 
time is smelied with wood, and the consumption of the 
latter has been so vast,—so much beyond the growth of 
unber—as most materially to raise the price of fuel 
throughout the country. Notwithstanding this ruinous 
consequence, and the very high price which the manu- 
facturer must pay for his iron, the government strangely 
persist in the injudicious policy of laying on a heayy 
duty on the importation of iron frem other countries, 

‘The discovery of smelting iron with pit-coal was 
made by one Dudley, about the year 1619; but such is 
the force of habit and prejudice, that many years elapsed 
before it was generally adopted. ‘he manufacture of 
iron did not rise into very great importance until after 
the discoveries of Watt in the improvement of the steam- 
engine, when that power was applied to produce the 
blast in the furnace ; for then furnaces could be erected 
wherever the ore and the coals were found, although 
there were no streams of water to impel the machinery. 
From that time the manufacture has been steadily pro- 
gressive, and more iron is now made in Great Britain 
than in any other country of the world. Mr. Mushet 
states, in his ‘ Memoir,’ in 1798, that the total amount 
of pig-irou smelted in Great Britain at that: time did 
not exceed 100,000 tons annually; whereas now the 
produce of all the furnaces falls very little short of 
700,000 tons. Dr. Thomson states, (in 1812,) that the 
total amount of iron manufactured in Sweden is under 
65,000 tors annually. 

The great seats of the iron manufacture of Great 
Britain are,—the Staffordshire, a few miles north of 
Birmingham, around Walsall, Bilston, and Dudley ; ; 
—the South Wales, around Merthyr Tydvil, in Gla- 
moreanshire, and in the Forest of Dean, on the borders 
of Wales ;—and the Shropshire, in and around Cole- 
brook Dale. But, besides these, there are many con- 


siderable works in different parts of ¥ orkshire and: 


Lancashire. One of the oldest and most extensive 
establishments is that of the Carron W orks, near 
Falkirk, in Stirlingshire ; and there are sever me in the 
neichbourhood of Glasgow. Clay- ironstone 1s found 
associated with the coal- -measures of the Nor thumberland 
and- Durham coal-fields, but not in sufficient quantity 
to make it worth while to erect any great works. 

In that part of north Lancashire called Furness, and 
principally around Ulverstone, au ore of iron is found of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


403 


‘a different nature from the clay-ironstone, being a com- 
pound of about 65 per cent. of iron, 30 of oxygen, and 
a small admixture of earthy ingredients. It is usually 
of a fibrous structure, and of a red colour, with a semi- 
metallic lustre, and is called by mineralogists ‘* hama- 
tite,” from a Greek word signifying “< the blood.” It. 
is also called “‘ bloodstone,” which is the name by which 
it'is known in the arts; it is used for making burnish- 
ing tools, and, when sround to fine powder, it is exten- 
sively employed as a polishing material by most workers 
in metal. A considerable part of the ore is still smelted 
with wood-charcoal, and produces a very valuable 
quality of metal: a great part of the best plate-iron 
and iron-wire is made from it. 

The next ore of iron which we have to notice as oceur- 
ring in such abundance as to afford one of the oreat 
supplies of this metal, is that called by mineralogists 
‘** Macnetical Tron Ore,’ from its being not only at- 
tractable by the magnet, but as possessing itself polarity. 
It is composed of about 70 per cent. of pure iron, and 
30 per cent. of oxygen; but it is seldom that the ore is 
found entirely free from foreign ingredients. The best 
Swedish iron is made from this ore, and the most cele- 
brated mine of it is at Dannemora, about 30 miles north 
of Upsala, which has been worked for more than 300 
years. Dr. Thomson visited it in 1812, and gives a 
description of it in his ‘ Travels in Sweden,’ as does 
Iars, in his § Voyages Metallurgiques, in 1767, who 
says that the mine was then worked like a great stone 
quarry, open to the day, and of vast extent, and not 
underground, as mines usually are. The ore, after 
being “roasted, is put into a furnace, with the requisite 
quantity of charcoal ; but the addition of limestone is 
seldom necessary, because lime exists alr eady in the ore. 
“The cast-iron obtained by this process is as white 
as silver, completely crystallized, extremely hard and 
brittle, and incapable of being applied to any useful 
purpose in that state. It is not liable to rust, and, in- 
deed, this is a quality which Dannemora iron possesses 
both in the state of cast and of malleable iron. It is 
much less liable to rust than any other kind of iron 
whatever. This cast-iron is reduced to malleable iron 
by heating it in a bed of charcoal and oxide of iron, 
and hammering it out into bars while hot *.” “The 
cause of the superiority of Dannemora iron has never 
been satisfactorily explained, Another great mine of 
magnetical iron-ore is in the Mountain Taberg, in 
Sweden, situated a little to the south of the ereat lake 
Wetter, due west from Gothenburg. The uppermost 
bed aa the mountain, which is 370 “Feet thick, has been 
wrought as an iron-mine for nearly 300 years. There 
were, in 1812, according to Dr. Thomson, 176 iron 
mines in different parts of Sweden ; ; but many of thein 
must be very insignificant, as the total Reggnee is SO 
small as 65,000 tons annually. 

There are a few other ores of iron:which are smelted 
for the purpose of obtaining the metal, the variations. 
chiefly depending on the different proportions of the 
oxide of iron, and of the earthy ingredients with which 
itiscombined. There are other.ores which are applied 
to different purposes in the arts. One, of the most 
common of these is that. which is called ‘ * pyrites ” by 
mineralogists, which is a combination of the iron with 
sulphur. The shining metallic bodies resembling brass, 
frequently seen in common blue roofing-slate, are 
iron-pyrites. In some situations, especially when found, 
in the coal-measures, this ore is very liable to decomposi- 
tion by the action of the air and moisture. In the act 
of decomposition heat is generated, and makes it ad- 
vance more rapidly. ‘This decomposition i is also effected 
designedly for the purpose of collecting the produce, 
which is the salt called ‘‘ sulphate of iron,” or grecn 
vitriol, The process of decomposition is this: the 

* Thomson, 


3F2 


404 THE PENNY 
sulphur Combines with the oxygen of the air and of the’ 
water, when sulphuric acid is produced (or oil’ of vitriol, 
as the old chemists used to call it, and as it is still 
called in the arts) ; and the acid cae formed combines 
with the iron. When the decomposition is effected, the 
mixture is thrown into water, which dissolves the sul- 
phate of iron; and, by carefully pouring off the clear 
solution and subsequent evaporations, the green cystal- 


MAGAZINE. [Ocroner 18, 
Vale of Conway, in Caernarvonshire, iron-pyrites is 
decomposed for the purpose of obtaining the sulphur 
from it; and that the iron, which is converted by the 
process into red ochre, is sold for common paint and 
other purposes. The pencils said to be red-lead are 
made from a soft ore of iron;—that which is called 
‘* reddle,” or red chalk, is a compound of oxide of iron 
and the earth of clay; but neither contain lead, any 


lized salt is obtained. Mr. Aikin states that, in the | more than the so-called black-lead does. 
BELLS. 


NING RAN AN Nu wy sit) ALi 


Hill rT Wh ‘ my it 3 A AN \\ Ni ' 
Thy 
Hi NaN ANKE hath ely 


Hh i it uth AS NGS \\ a A wr 


AN AS . cel) 


\s 


= oe 
k =? i 


NMEA 
NAG Ae XX 


* ° . 
as 


(ii 
Sr 


yo, vis OEE av ; Sn a5 
sy =—=e . & \ wa & ~ 

: Sa SY AN ; \ \ ‘Ss AN 

‘SN SS 


ah WS SS +A \ \ aft «< Ny 
ii “4 yO N 


y 


ae 
ee 

a 
- > 


r, 


a 





fice fe 


H IZ =—— ies eh =H hh | | i ff) y ‘ a Me | ii 
ve AAW 7/7: hy tee 
a Tp 


i ay! i / | ‘ ie ap we Hn) i 
on a mg sl i a aes 
| a oe = 


ma t 


i nn eee ee adm res the ae 


- ' 2 U = > - 
a a ~ 
oo < - = = 
~ = 
pa wa - rd ~ = — 
- Se : oH =i ~ 
~ — 0 - - 
oe ee are | ae "> ‘ ‘ 7 
] > > 44 wD a = = 
, > oe # 
«i 4 ’ 


= 


Canam asm ay A nee 


ee Ne! ——————— Se ae 
= - : 1 


f Hit = 
‘i 
is 
Vi 


——— 


——— 
———_ 


aoa): 


a — aa 
— 


ey a Te 


* 
eet eo 
= u ———e( 
org . . pair 
~ { pen 
aa af 4M Boe, - 
—~ a — . . 
or as” \ : > 
_— 


pe ame ple 


——— ht 


a 


i pa 


ee | “~f . 
i) ’ ? 
\ iy Y, 
aye “Le 
. in \ 
oh x Ae 
WS Vv ws 
e « 
A 


- 
a--* 
—_ 


—— 
2 a 


‘ 
——< at ee 
s @@¢ aT 


a 
— 


= ~n4 
_ a ° = 
EE 


ie 
\i 


H 


— 
—J 


‘: 
—a. Laat 
— had 


—— 
ene 


te) omen 


Co og WA 
Ce aes 


we 


| ~ ave anaes _ - 

‘ hee 
= a 
LL ie 
at a aaa = 
~ y 
ae 2 : a 
pape : 


fa Tsar Kolokol, 


Tue origin of bells is probably to. be dated from the 
time when the sonorous property of metals was first 
noticed. A tinkling instrument of some sort was in 
use as early as the days of Moses, as it appears from 
Exodus xxviii. 33—35, where the priest is commanded 
to hang bells to his robe, in order by their sound to 
give notice of his approach to the sanctuary. Bells 
were also appended to horses as an ornament, (Zech. 
xiv. 20,) probably similar to those which are still used 
in many parts of Europe. 

Small bells were used by the Greeks and Romans 
for civil and military purposes, and they were some- 
times rung in temples to call the people to their reli- 
sjous duties. St. Paulinus, Bishop of Nola in Cam- 
pania, at the end of the fourth century, is said to have 
peen the first who used bells in Christian churches to 
cal] the people to prayer; for which purpose it had been 
customary until then to employ wooden mallets. Bells 
were gradually introduced into all the churches of the 
west, and also into many Greek churches, though the 


wooden mallet has been more generally used in the East. 


This latter practice was continued,’ during the inde- 
pendence of the Greeks, from choice, and afterwards 
enforced by the Turks, who abhor bells to such a degree, 
that the Turkish writer, Saadeddin, seems to consider 
the silencing the ** detestable bells” as one of the great 


(ith ce y ia Mp 
mars AG HF 


5 ‘ I" ' is a | 
\\N 1 

Wb ath gtk t ’ eft 

oe 1 3 , (| [: ay 
SN \ : 

iff il Hy 
= n\ i, a ; By | | iy = 
Ss So , \\ Vv 
1, i ni = ~ 
3 - 


\ ii A f Z as oo 
| N Al ' 1 a Hy : 
SS Sali eu ‘ \ ye i LZ AN: Ss r: 
SSS SS BY cal (¢ i 
a 0 tye e be 7 , Co 
r 1 4, ; 
| iL 





Wea aa WA 
Hit By 
tl v Ml wit } it} Wy 
; iy ATT] | nm i 
a | 
j | 


5} 
“es Hala Will 


Yyy.A hn il 


Y ~, Ali {if} {| if \} i 
: Me P i | hi it afin t 
Lh . | { 


Bh { alt 
PUL e 


Sl 


Zens Ht 


ae LPT YY 


= Hi 
nn oo 
ui ih “ Talia i 4 om 


i ! i 


“SG mer i} wi sein ar 


i 
Nt We iit ou oo 


Fast get 

MON SNIA 

iN RAR at 
cits 


f t 
+ 

« ; 

1 


Aj Hi 4 
aut tees sine | 
. ity Ty 
: \ i H Hi +\ Hy all ! 
SS + ni A i te Ie HW it 
rm 
hi Wa mnt i 
i ‘i ty Ht Vil i Wile i it ih 


ue 


vt in 


‘ uh nh a mi i} 
Hit (nf att 3 
ait sat rt uae 


; 4 i 
> ‘)b} 
5 PAST iene “ 


if iyi f Hit 
ABS a 





= 
*~- 5 ° 


If Nhe if} 
| ti Auk aT 
el i : 
vail ae iy ie j 
aN 
INS Sa SESE uk Ki Wat 
3S tlm ea pe VY, 3 coat ks kee it) 
Pe erie 7 


ey) _—— 
i OA 
pS 
Ly 


ny. | ae ana 


ui a i] 


ss tis si if cu 
ARH We Ht 


— 


ttt i 
xt ii iM (tf +} 


a a» 
ee ae 


i biity Fe ; 
1 4 
4 ms : HM ip 
tiIT 
“ vf a 
‘= 


or King of Bells, in ey 


advantages of the capture of Constantinople. Such. 
bells as the Greeks used were consequently destroyed, 
with the exception of a few in remote situations—as 
at Mount Athos, where the —- would not offend 
Turkish ears. 

Large bells appear to heve come into use in the 
sixth century ; in the year 610, Clothaire I1., King of 
France, when besieging the city of Sens, is said. to 
have been so much alarmed at the hitherto unheard 
clangor of the bells in St. Stephen’s church, that he 
retreated in affright, and abandoned the siege. ‘They 
were very generally adopted in England as soon as 
parish churches were erected, and they gave rise to that 
remarkable part of ecclesiastical architecture the bell 
tower, it being thought necessary to elevate them in 
order that their sound might reach to a greater distance. 
The fervour of a man’s piety being then estimated by 
the value of his gifts to the church, large bells were 
often presented by rich individuals. Turketul, abbot 
of Croyland in the tenth century, gave to the church 
of that abbey a great bell, which he named Guthlac, in 
honour of the patron saint of the place; and his suc- 
cessor, Egelric, who died in 974, presented six bells, 
to which he gave the whimsical names of Pega and 
Bega, ‘Tatwin “and Turketul, Betelem and Bar tholomew. 
These bells were tuned to harmonize with the great 


1834,] 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


ADB 


ComparaTIVE Disxtkensions or Brits. 
fOne-tenth of an Inch to a Foot.) 






91 feet high. 
18 feet diameter. 





29 feet high. 
204 feet diameter. 


The Bolshoi. 


The Tsar-kelokol. | 


Guthlac, and so agreeable was the effect of their com- 
bination, that Ingulphus, who had often heard them, 
says, “* Fiebat mirabilis harmonia, nec erat tunc talis 
consonantia campanarum in tota Anglia’—They made 
a wonderful harmony, and there was not at that time 
such a well-tuned peal of bells in all England. 

This peal of Croyland proves the early origin of the 
peculiar English taste for bell-ringing, so cheering to 
the inhabitants of our secluded villages. Even in 
towns our bell-ringing is preferable to the constant 
monotonous jingle of a single bell, so common in France 
and Italy, or to the irregular clanging of a dozen of all 
sorts and sizes at once, so deafening on festival days in 
Catholic countries. In chimes moved by clock-work, 
however, we must admit that our bells are at an im- 
measurable distance behind those of the Netherlands, 
which are as superior to the best of our clumsy contri- 
vances as an organ to a hurdy-gurdy. 

Bells were of old put to services which the superior 
intelligence of the present age seems to have totally 
abolished. What these-uses were will appear from the 
following words of Aubrey, who wrote about a century 
and a halfago. ‘* At Paris, wlien it begins to thunder 
and liehten, they do presently ring out the great bell 
at the abbey. of St. German, which they do believe 
inakes it cease. (The like was wont to be done hereto- 
foré in Wiltshire; when’ it thundered and _ lightened 
they did ring St. Adelm’s bell at- Malmesbury Abbey. 
The curious do say, that the ringing of bells exceed- 
ingly disturbs spirits.” 

- One of our most celebrated bells is the Great Tom 
of Oxford, which was cast, after two failures, on the 8th 
of April, 1680, from the metal of an old bell on which 
was the following curious inscription,x—‘ In Thome 
laude resono bim bom sine fraude.”” rom this the old 
bell was named ‘Tom, though, on the restoration of 
Catholicism by Queen Mary, it was rebaptized by her 
name. Dr. Tresham, by whom the ceremony was per- 
formed, was so delighted with the sound of this bell 
under its new name, that he cried out on hearing it, 
‘*O bellam et suavem harmoniam, O pulchram Mariam, 
ut sonat musice, ut tinnuit melodice, ut placet auribus 
mirifice !””—Oh sweet and pleasant harmony, oh beau- 
tiful Mary, how musically it sounds, how melodiously 
it rings, how wonderfully it pleases the ears! It is 
a curious instance of the fondness for bell-ringing in 
Eneland, that Dr. Tresham endeavoured to bribe the 
students at Oxford to come to the mass by the promise 
of some additional bells which would make the Oxford 
peal the finest in England, The Great Tom of Oxford 
is the heaviest we have: it weighs 17,000 lbs., and is 
7 feet 1 inch in diameter at the brim, and 5 feet 9 inches 
high; its thickness at the striking part is 6 inches. 
The Great Tom of Lincoln was nearly as large as that 
of Oxford, but being thinner, weighed only 9894 Ibs. 
This bell was cast the 3rd of December, 1610, and has 





Sune, 1701 *. 


142 feet high. 


13 feet diameter. 103 high. 


84 diam. 





Great Bell of Great Tom of 
7 we Erfurt. ° Oxford. 
not been rung for many years; its only use in the pre- 
sent century has been to strike the hours: some years ago 
it was quite cracked, and it has lately been resolved to 
cast a new one with additional metal, which shall weigh 
12,000 Ibs.’ The old bell was broken up, preparatory 
for casting, on the 18th day of June last. The great 
bell of St. Paul’s weighs between 11,000 and 12,000 Ibs., 
aud measures nine feet in diameter, and not ten as 
commonly asserted. 

In spite of these examples we cannot boast of very 
large bells. The bell of Erfurt, cast in-the fifteenth 
century, and long celebrated as the largest in Europe, 
weighed more than 25,000 Ibs.; and the people of 
Rouen estimate their largest at 36,000 Ibs. But the 
country of- great bells is, without dispute, Russia. 
There the great béll may be heard in full vigour, not 


“ Swinging slow with sullen roar,” 


' Great Bell of Pekin. 


for the Russian bells are too large to be swung, but 


incessantly tolling, and booming, and deafening all - 
‘ears but those of Russians, who almost worship their 


bells. The largest of these “ mountains of metal” is 
called in Russian the “-Tsar kolokol,” or king of bells, 
from the metal of which at least thirty-six bells might 
be cast, each as large as. the great. bell of St. Paul’s, 
which has been itself called an ‘* enormous mass: of 
metal.” .-The ‘‘ king of bells” weighs 400,000 Ibs., or 
nearly 200 tons, is 20 feet high, and 204 in- diameter. 
Some travellers have stated larger dimensions than 
these, and some smaller; but the admeasurements we 
have given were made. by the order of the Emperor 
Alexander, and reduced to English measure. This 
euormous bell is now lying in a cavity close by the 
Ivan velikii, or great Ivan, which is a tower belonging 
to the cathedral at Moscow. The tongue, which is 
14 feet lone and 6 at its greatest circumference, lies 
exposed at the foot of the tower; it weighs probably as 
much as some of our largest bells. An inscription on 
the bell states that it is made of the metal of a former 
one, which was cast in the year 1654, first rung in 
1658, and greatly damaged by a fire on the 19th of 
The inscription goes on to state that 
the Empress Anne added 72,000 Ibs. of metal to the 
288,000 lbs. which the old bell contained, and that the 
new bell was cast in the year 1734. This account 
makes the weight of the bell only 360,000 Ibs., whereas 
several Russian authors state it at 12,000 poods, or 
432,000 lbs. The truth is probably between the two. 
Much metal was brought by persons from al] parts of 
Russia, and thrown into the furnaces while the bell 
was preparing ; and the nobles vied with each other in 


* The copy of the inscription given by Lyall, from whom we 
have taken this account, states 1668 as the year of its first ringing, 
and 1761 as that of its destruction. The last is obviously wrong,. 
and the other probably so. The years of the world according to. 
Russian usage are luckily added, which enables us to correct the 
errors as above. — 


406 


casting in gold and silver plate, rings, trinkets, and 
ornaments of all kinds during the operation. 

The Great Bell was suspended over the pit in which 
it now lies in the year 1737, on immense beams of 
wood, which were unfortunately destroyed by fire in the 
same year, by which accident a piece was broken ont 
at the side large enough to admit two tall men to walk 
through abreast without stooping. It has of course 
never been suspended since. Some modern travellers, 
without a shadow of evidence, have denied that this bell 
was ever suspended, from the alleged impossibility of 
raising so great a weight. But mechanics will not admit 
such an impossibility. ‘There is no doubt that the former 
bell was rung: the inscription on the present bell states 
the fact; and Korb, in his ‘ Diarium Itineris in Mus- 
covia’ (1698), says that it was suspended, and the 
clapper pulled by forty or fifty men, half of whom stood 
oneach side. The great fracture in the side of this 
King of Bells is an evidence of its having fallen ; such 
an immense piece, seven feet in height, could never 
have been broken out by the fall of water upon the 
heated metal, as alleged by those who deny the suspen- 
sion of the bell. ‘The Tsar-kolokol is ornamented 
with a bas-relief of the Empress Anne in her coronation 
robes, surmounted by the figure of our Saviour, be- 
tween St. Peter and Anna the prophetess: on the 
opposite side is the ‘T’sar Alexei Michaelowitz, in-whose 
reien the former bell was cast; over the head of Alexei 
is our Saviour between the Virgin Mary and John the 
Baptist. 

The largest bell now rung in Russia is that called 
the New Bell, which was cast in 1817; it is hung in 
the Ivanovskaya Kolokolnya, or the belfry of Ivan, near 
the King of Bells. It is 2! feet in height and 18 in 
diameter, and its tongue weighs 4200 lbs. The history 
of this is like that of the Great Bell. A bell called the 
Bolshoi (the Big), cast in 1710, and weighing 124,000 
lbs., was hung with thirty-two smaller ones in the 
belfry of Ivan. In the French invasion of 1812, the 
belfry was almost destroyed, and the Bolshoi thrown 
down and irreparably damaged. In 1817, when the 
court was at Moscow, the Bolshoi was broken up, and 
additional metal given by the emperor to found a new 
bell, which should weigh 144,000 lbs. The new cast 
was made by a Mr. Boedanof, on the 7th of March, 
i817, in the presence of the Archbishop Augustin, who 
gave his benediction, and of almost all the inhabitants 
of Moscow, who, as in the case of the Great Bell nearly 
a century before, proved their devotion by throwing in 
gold and silver plate, rings, and other ornaments. On 
the 23rd of February, 1819, the New Bell was moved 
with great ceremony on a large wooden sledge from 
the foundry to the cathedral; a Te Deum was cele- 
brated, and the labour of dragging the sledge com- 
initted to the multitude, who disputed the honour of 
touching a rope. The moyements were regulated by 
little bells, managed by Mr. Bogdanof, who stood on a 
platform attached to the bell ;—part of the wall was 
taken down to admit its passage, and, as soon as it 
reached its destination, the people leaped upon Mr. 
Bogdanof, kissing his hands, cheeks, and clothes, and 
showing, by every means in their power, the gratitude 
they felt at the restoration of their old favourite. Some 
days after this, the New Bell was slowly raised to the 
place of its predecessor, and properly suspended. It 
may be said of the New Bell, as Dr. Clarke said of the 
Bolshoi, that its sound “ vibrates all over Moscow like 
the fullest and lowest tones of a vast organ, or the 
rolling of distant thunder.” This bell is covered with 
figures in relief, representing the late Emperor Alex- 
ander, his Empress, and the Dowager ; also the Grand 
Dukes Constantine, Nicholas (now Emperor), and 
Michael; our Saviour, the Virgin, and John the Bap- 
fist, ' ; 





THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE. [Ocroper 18, 

The only rivals to the bells of Russia are those of 
China, and they appear to be quite out of fashion since 
the empire lost its native princes in 1644. One mea- 
sured by Le Comte at Nankin, about the end of the 
seventeenth century, was lying on the ground amidst 
the ruins of the belfry in which it had formerly hung ; 
its height was 11 feet 9 inches English, with 2 feet 
more for the handle, and its diameter 72 feet. ‘The 
weight he computed at 50,000 Ibs.: there were three 
more in the same situation. 

The Emperor Yong-lo, who began his reign in 1403, 
transferred the seat of government from Nankin to 
Pekin, and celebrated the event by casting nine bells of 
enormous bulk, one of which was iron. Seven of these 
bells were seen lying on the ground by Father Verbiest 
about the middle of the seventeenth century. Although 
he had passed the greatest part of his life in China, their 
existence was unknown to him, and would probably 
have remained so, had not the aid of Europeans been 
wanted to suspend one of them. Verbiest describes 
the bells to be well cast, but of a more cylindrical form 
than those of Europe. He measured one of them care- 
fully ; the dimensions given by him are in Chinese 
measure, which we have reduced to English feet and 
ches: the height was 14 feet 5 inches, the handle 
3 feet 8 inches more; the diameter was 12 feet 11 in., 
and the thickness 13 inches. 

‘The Chinese bells are struck with wooden tongues, 
like their gongs: this is said by some to give a dull 
sound, while others describe their tone as yery melo- 
dious. In our opinion a finer sound is produced by a 
wooden than a metal clapper, though certainly not. so 
powerful. The shape, being so unlike those of Europe, 
may cause a difference of sound. If the opinion ot 
Reéaumur be correct, neither shape is the best for the 
production of sound. He states that a seament of a 
sphere is the shape most adapted for that purpose, and 
instances a piece of lead left to cool at the bottom-of a 
round ladle, which will be found very sonorous, while 
in no other shape can lead be made to render any elastic 
sound whatever. 


eet oe 


MEERZA ABUL HASSAN.—No. I. 


THroueu the volumes which contain Mr. Morier’s ac- 
count of his first and second journies through Persia, 
there are dispersed many curious and interesting anec- 
dotes of Meerza Abul Hassan*, who was, about twenty- 
five years since, the Persian ambassador to this country. 
The information concerning this person, which lies dis- 
persed through these and other volumes, published at 
distant intervals, gives an interesting view of the Per- 
sian habits of thought and feeling ; and we therefore 
propose to put it together, with the addition of some 
details from our own resources. 

He was born at Shiraz, in the year 1776, being the 
second son of Meerza Mahomed Ali, a man famous in 
Persia as an accomplished scholar, and who was one of 
the chief secretaries of Nadir Shah. A remarkable 
anecdote is related of the manner in which this person 
was preserved from a fate to which public men in Persia 
are much exposed. In one of those fits of capricious 
cruelty socommon to Nadir Shah in his latter days, 
he ordered that Mahomed Ali should be burnt alive, 
towether with two Hindoos, who had also incurred his 
displeasure. ‘The unfortunate Meerza, on hearing his 
sentence, remonstrated with the tyrant, entreating that 
he might at least be permitted to die alone, and that 


* « Meerza,’”’ placed thus before a name, is an hereditary civil 
title; placed after a name, as “ Abbas Meerza,” it denotes a prince : 
—to say “ Prince Abbas Meerza,” is a pleonasm. Khan’ is, 
properly, a military title, but is now frequently conferred on 
civilians about the court, who still, however, retain the prefixed 
“ oat Sain if they had it before ; thus :— Meerza Abul Hassan 

Any 


1834, 


his last moments might not be polluted by the society 
of men who were of a different faith from his own. ‘To 
this request the Shah consented: the Hindoos were im- 
mediately executed, but the death of Mahomed was 
postponed to the following day. That very night the 
king was murdered in his tent, and Meerza Mahomed 
Ali was saved. 

It was during the reign of the present king’s pre- 
decessor and uncle that the family of Meerza Abool 
[fassan attained its highest degree of power. His 
maternal uricle was that able miiiister Hajji Ibrahim, 
whose name has been rendered so familiar to the 
English reader by Sir John Malcolm. The Meerza, 
and the other relations of the Hajji, shared with him in 
the administration of state affairs. The Hajji also gave 
him one of his daughters in marriage ; and one of the 
others was given to a son of the king, and another to a 
person who afterwards became the second vizier of the 
kingdom. This Hajji’ Ibrahim is the person who, by 
his decision and good management, secured the throne 
for the present king on the death of his uncle, But 
when the monarch performed an act of ingratitude and 
barbarity, of which he has ever since repented, by 
destroying the minister who was as a right arm to him*, 
all his near relations shared in the proscription. Where- 
ever residing, they were all seized in the same day and 
hour; some were put to death, others were blinded, 
and all their property was confiscated. Meerza Abul 
Hassan was at that time governor of Shooster: his 
elder brother was deprived of his sight, the youngest 
died under the bastinado, and the Meerza himself was 
seized ;—his clothes were stripped from his back,—his 
hands were tied behind him,—and he was dragged as a 
prisoner to Koom, where the king then was. On_ his 
arrival, orders were given for his immediate execution. 
He was placed on his knees, his neck was made bare, 
and the executioner had already unsheathed his sword, 
when a messenger entered in haste and announced his 
reprieve. An old man who had known him from his 
boyhood, and cherished him as a son, when he heard of 
the order for his execution, threw himself at the feet of 
the king, and, pleading his youth and inoffensiveness, 
entreated that he might be pardoned. The king was 
softened, and granted his request. But Abul Hassan 
feared that the king might repent of his lenity towards 
him; and, after having sheltered himself for a time in 
the sanctuary at Koom, where he was fed by some 
women, who came to him under the pretence of paying 
their devotions at the shrine of the saint, he determined 
to leave the country until the anger of the king against 
his family should have subsided. 
his character that he fled first to Shooster, where he 
had lately been governor, and where, as his govern- 
ment had been lenient and temperate, he found a host 
of friends to relieve him, and was received with the 
hospitality for which the Arabs are remarkable. He 
dared not prolong his stay, and was leaving the place 
in misery and destitution when the inhabitants came to 
him in a crowd, and forced 7000 piastres upon him. 
After various wandering’s, he embarked for India, and 
reached Calcutta at the time when the Marquis Wellesley 
was Governor-general. He resided in different parts of 
the country for two years and a half, at the termination 
of which he was at Bombay, and there received from 
the king a firman to return to Persia. He was assured 
that the kine had forgiven him, and restored him to his 
favour. On his return, he found that his brother-in- 
Jaw was become Ameen-ed-Doulah, or head-treasurer, 


* He was degraded, and condemned to lose his eyes; and, when 
he exclaimed against the injustice and ingratitude of the king, his 
tongue was ordered to be cut out. He did not long survive. The 
king soon became sensible of the loss the country had sustained ; 
and on all occasions of difficulty has been accustomed to exclaim, 
‘ Where is Hajji Ibrahim ?” 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


It speaks well for | 


407 


When the English embassy of Sir Harford Jones 
became first acquainted with the Meerza, he was con- 
sidered a person of much influence at couft; and al- 
though he held no specific office in the government, he 
was 11 useful and active ernployiment under his brother- 
in-law. He was ultimately appointed ambassador to 
the Court of London; and, on the 7th of May, 
1809, left Tehraun for this country, in company with 
Mr. Morier., 

In their journey through Turkey, the ambassador 
and his attendants were, on several occasions, made 
sensible of the difference between the physical condition 
and the usages of that country and their own. It is a 
trait of character not at all peculiar to the Persians, 
but it is amusing and instruetive to observe to what an 
extent national jealousy against the Turks indisposed 
them to acknowledge the least superiority of any kind 
in Turkey and the Turks to themselves and_ their 
own country. Any comparison between the arid 
and unshaded mountains of Persia and the splendid 
fohage and rich vegetation of those parts of the 
Turkish dominions through wnich they passed was 
almost revarded as a gross national insult. As, how- 
ever, they were keenly alive to the beauties of nature, 
and greatly enjoyed the shade of trees and the sound 
of running water, and as such spots frequently occurred 
during the course of their journey, they could not 
restrain their expressions of delight ; though they would 
always add, at the same time, “‘ What a pity this charm- 
Ing country is in the hands of these people! If we had 
it (and God grant we shall), what a paradise it would 
be!” ‘'Dhis mode of expression is exceedingly character- 
istic of the Persians. It is quite true that things could 
hardly be worse managed than théy*are by the Turks; 
but the way in which the Persians manage their own 
country affords no evidence that ‘Turkey.would become 
a richer and happier land under their rule. 

During the Meerza’s stay at Constantinople, he was 
invited by the English ambassador to an entertainment, 
which consisted of a dinner under tents in the Buyuk- 
dere meadow, and a ball and supper, at night, in a 
house borrowed for the purpose. ‘The Meerza did not 
seem at all astonished at the introduction of ladies into 
the society of men, as he had already acquired a general 
knowledge of our customs at the English settlements in 
India. But the attendants, who had just left the very 
innermost parts of Persia, by one common consent 
collected themselves together into a corner, and eyed 
every thine with the most anxious astonishment and 
attention. Their natural loquacity seemed to have 
quite forsaken them; and they sat with their mouths 
wide open, and eyes full-staring, and uttered not a 
single word. 

But in the conduct of the Meerza and his people 
nothing was more striking than the truly Persian 
facility with which they adapted themselves to manners 
and customs completely adverse to their own habits of 
life. ‘* I remarked two instances,” says Mr. Morier, 
‘* during our stay at Constantinople: the first occurred 
one morning when I went to visit the Meerza, where 
one of his servants took off his cap, and saluted me, by 
a bow, in our fashion. Again, at a ball, several of his 
attendants took off their caps, and sat bald-headed’*, 
from the supposition that it was disrespectful, in Hu- 
ropean company, to keep the head covered whilst they 
saw every one uncovered, ‘There were many other ac- 
commodatious to our usages which would never have 
been yielded by a Turk ;—such as eating with knives 
and forks, sitting at table, drinking wine, &c.” Since 
this was written, however, the Turks have gone farther 
in the adoption of European customs than Mr. Morier 
appears, at that time, to have imagined possible. 

* All the Persians have their heads shaven; and are never se¢n 
uncovered, unless by accident, 


408 


From Constantinople the party removed to Smyrna, 
and reiained there until their final departure from 
Turkey. On the 7th of September, 1809, they went 
on board the Success, Captain Ayscough, to proceed to 
England. The Meerza soon became perfectly reconciled 
to the usages of a ship; he slept in a cot, and always 
employed a knife and fork in eating. He did not miss 
a single opportunity of informing himself on every 
thine “he saw on board; and whatever he learned he 
carefully noted in a book, This was, Indeed, his 
constant practice all the time of his absence from 
Persia; and, after his return, his journal was read with 
ereat avidity by his countrymen. ‘The practice of keep- 
ing a journal of proceedings and observations is not 
nnusual among Persian travellers. 

The attendants of the Meerza seem to have been so 
far influenced. by the example of their master, that they 
were much more quiet'on board the ship than might 
have been expected from the natural antipathy of Per- 
sians to the sea. They complained sometimes, however, 
of the-badness of the water, the hardness of the biscuit, 
and’ the want of fruit. Mr. Morier was struck with 
their natural ienorance of relative distance. They had 
been always “accustomed to calculate distances by 
menzils, or days’ jonrnies ; and they were surprised to 
find it impossible to continue such reckoning. Snech 
an extent of water seemed to them incomprehensible ; 
and one of them gravely said to Mr. Morier—“ This is 
quite extraordinary: this country of yours is nothing 
but water !*” All of them were particularly astonished 
that women and boys went to sea. ‘The Meerza him- 
self, seeing some women on board the Success, ex- 
claimed, ‘* Is it possible? If I- were to tell our women 
in Persia that there were women in ships, they wonld 
never believe me. ‘To go from one town to another is 
considered a great undertaking among them ; but here 
your women go from one end of the world to the other, 
and think nothing of it. If it were even known in 
my family that I was now in a ship, and on the great 
seas, there would be nothing but wailings and lamenta: 
tions from morning to night. i. 

One of the other things that struck the Persians as 
most extraordinary on board the ship was the business 
of signals. ‘They seemed very much.inclined to think 
that Mr. Morier was imposing upon their ignorance 
when he informed them that, at six miles distance, they 

might ask any qnestions from anothet ship and receive 
an immediate answer; and that, when they should 
reach England, their arrival would be known in 
London in ten minutes, and every necessary order 
returned before they conld get’ out of the ship. All 
these: things the Meerza carefully noted ‘down in his 
book, repeating the exclamation usual with him when 
anything strikingly useful’ was bronght under his 
notice ; — God grant that all such things may take 
place in my country too !” 

Having now brought Meerza Abul £1 orettip to our 
shores, we may pause, and make his proceedings. in 
England, and on his return to Persia, the subject of 
another paper. ; 


BARBAROUS COMBATS IN JAVA. 


Cock-ricuTine is the principal amusement among the 
inhabitants of the Philippine Islands, and indeed’ of tiie 
whole Indian archipelago; but: the cock is not ‘the only 
animal from the choleric and courageous disposition of which 
they extract a brutal enjoyment. “At J ava, they even make 
fighting-matches between quails; and it is remarkable that, 
for the purposes of this amusement, the- male’is held in no 
estimation: it-is too small and timid, and they therefore set 
a much higher value on the females, the irascible and deter- 


* It is the vulgar notion in Persia that, the. English, as a nation, 
live in ships upon the water, and have no territorial possessions, 
except in the countries of others. 
to have retained a lingering impression of this Sort. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Our present Persians seem. still 


[Octosir 18, 1834. 


mined character of which affords the most lively satisfaction 
to the amateurs of these cruel sports. Upon the strength 
and courage of such combatants these islanders often hazard 
considerable sums; indeed, to such a pitch of desperate 
puerility have the Javanese been carried by their gambling 
infatuations, that they sometimes venture all their property 
upon the direction which. a paper kite may take. The 
object of each player in this game is to break the string of 
his adversary’s kite; and it is not unusual, in Jaya, to see 
fifty or sixty paper kites flying one against another over 
a small town. 

But there are other combats, in the same country, in 
tended for the public amusement. These are generally 
between ferocious animals; and that between a royal tiger 
and a buffalo is preferred to any other. The buffalo and 
the tiger are introduced into a cage made of strong bamboos, 
and about ten fect in diameter. Their first rencounter in 
this contracted place is most terrible. The buffalo is always 
the assailant, and thrusts the tiger with fearful violence 
against the bars of the cage, endeavouring to crush him to 
death, while the tiger attempts to spring “upon the head or 
back of his adversary. After the first shock, a parrying 
fight is usually maintained until one of the animals is en- 
abled to seize an advantage. The advantage is usually 
with the buffalo in the first. onset; but if he does not then 
kill or materially injure his adversary, the situation of the 
tiger much improves from his superior agility. 

“According to Stavorinus, the two animals are sometimes 
transpor ted to a large plain, where an enclosure is formed 
by a four-fold line of Javanese, armed with pikes. When 
all is ready, men appointed to the work proceed to excite 
the rage of the poor animals before they are suffered to quit 
their respective cages. The buffalo 1s excited by a sort of 
nettle, the pricking of which is so insupportable as to irritate 
the most quiet disposition to a perfect fever of rage. While 
they are thus dealing with the buffalo, other men provoke 
the tiger by pricking him with pointed sticks »—by surround- 
ing him with smoke (a thing he hates), and by throwing 
boiling water upon him. 

The J avanese, whose perilous office it 1s to let the excited 
aumals forth from their cages, are not allowed to leave the 
place, after they have done this, until they have several 
times saluted the prince, who then makes a sign for them 
to withdraw into the ranks with the other ouards. They 
must then move off slowly, and are not permitted to run; 
but we do not suppose there is any thing cruel to the men 
in this regulation, as running would be more likely than a 
_ motion to draw the attention of the animals towards 
them. 

It was customary; not long since, to make criminals con- 
demned to death fight with tigers. The bodies of thiese 
miserable men were rubbed with cur cuma; they were then 
clothed with a sort of yellow jacket, or waistcoat, and armed 
with a poignard, after which they were left exposed in the 
arena. Stavorinus relates a singular circumstance which 
happened to a criminal condemned to be devoured by tigers, 
When the poor fellow was thrown into the ditch in which 
the tigers were, he had the good fortune to fall astraddle 
upon the back of the largest | of them, and from which the 
most mischief was to be apprehended. . The animal, at this 
unlooked-for event, exhibited much astonishment and alar m1; 
he did not himself attempt to injure the man, and none of 
the others dared attack him in this situation. This incident 
did not, however, save the poor wretch’s life, for the prince 
grave orders that he should be killed. 

In 1812, two men were éxposed to wild beasts by order of 
the Sultan of Yugyukerta.- Each of them was furnished 
with a poignard (creese), the point of which had been 
blunted; and the cage was opened, from which a. tiger 
bounded forth. One of the criminals was almost immediatel y 
rent in pieces; but the other maintained the fight with his 
blunt dagger for nearly two hours, and with such success, 
that he at jast killed his adversary by several wounds upon 
the ‘head, and under the eyes and ears. At present, these 
cruel amusements are early at an end: they have, in 
general, as well’as mutilation and torture, been abolished by 
various treaties anal Europeans. 





*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 
09, Lincoln’ s Inn Fields, 


LONDON: oe K NIGHT, ms rh fe sks STK EET, 


Printed by Wi,ttiam CLowEs, Duke Street, Lambeth. 














THE P 








Y MAGAZINI 





we 


OF THE 


Society for.the Diffusion:of Useful Knowledge. 





164.] 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. fOcroper 25, 1834. 








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410 


Tue peculiar situation of Venice, in the midst of the 


waters— 
“ Rising with her tiara of proud towers ” 


from their very bosom—renders a vast number of bridges 
necessary for the public convenience. Accordingly,‘ not 
less than 500 bridges, of different sizes, and mostly of 
stone, have been thrown over the marine streets of the 
city. Of these the finest and most remarkable is the 
Rialto, represented in our wood-cut. The grand canal 
at Venice divides the city into two nearly equal parts, 
and it is over this canal, about the centre of the city, 
that the Rialto is built. A bridge of wood occupied the 
site until‘the year 1587, when the republic, under the 
Doge Pascal Cigogne, determined to replace it with 
one of stone: Accordingly, the present structure was 


commenced in-the following year, from the designs of | ; 


Michael Angelo, and was finished in the year 1594, 
It has, in its day, been celebrated as a masterpiece of 
art. It consists of a single arch, “‘ so wide,” says 
Martiniére, “ that a galley, the mast of which is lowered, 
may pass through with extended oars.” It may be 
clearer to state that the bridge consists of one flat and 
bold arch of nearly 100 feet span, and only 23 feet 
above the water. The breadth of the bridge is 43 feet, 
and this is, on the top, divided by two rows of shops 
into three narrow streets, of which that in the middle 
is the widest ; and there is in the centre an open arch- 
way, by which the three streets communicate with one 
another. 'The whole exterior of the bridge and of the 
shops is of marble. At each end of the bridge there 
is an ascent of 56 steps; and the view from the summit 
of the Rialto is remarkably interesting and magnificent. 
The foundation of -the structure extends 90 feet, and 
rests upon 12,000 elm piles. ‘The erection of the 
bridge is said to have cost the republic 250,000 ducats, 
which, considering the difference in the value of money, 
must have been equal to about 300,000/. at the present 
day. The Rialto, the Piazza di St. Marco, and the 
street and garden made by Napoleon, which is described 
as a magnificent work, are the only promenades at 
Venice. | 

We cannot omit to quote, in this place, a passage 
from * Childe-Harold,’ in which the structure we have 
under consideration is mentioned. Speaking of Venice, 
the writer says,— 


“ Unto us she hath a spell beyond 
Her name in story, and her long array, 
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond 
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway ; 

Ours is a trophy which shall not decay 

With the Rialto. Shylock, and the Moor, 

And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away * * * 

The keystones of the arch; though all were o’er 
For us re-peopled were the solitary shore.” 





Lord Byron is not the only traveller to whom the 
Rialto has been invested with additional interest from 
such associations. ‘The author of ‘ Sketches Descriptive 
of Italy’ says—* When we stood on the Rialto, we 
remembered that it was the spot where the Christians 
‘flouted’ Shylock ; and we thought more of the ‘ Mer- 
chant of Venice’ than of the beauty or singularity of 
the noble arch. I confess, however, that when I did 
begin to look at the bridge itself, I did not admire it 
quite so much as L expected. Itis of great height in 
the centre, being mounted and descended by long 
flights of steps; and of great width, being divided by 
ranges of little shops into three distinct though narrow 
streets. ‘These surmounting buildings greatly injure 
the elegance of the whole bridge, and appear to press 
heavily upon the single elliptic arch, Lightness should 
have been the characteristic here.” 

“After all, it seems doubtful whether Shakspeare or 
Otway intended, or ought to have intended, this bridge 
when they mention the Rialto. It was probably men- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[OcToBER 25, 


tioned by both merely as the name of a place in Venice 
with which they were most familiar; or because others 
had used it before them. Mr. Matthews, in his ‘ Diary 
of an Invalid,’ says—‘ If no more were included under 
the name-of Rialto than the single arch across the 
canal, the congregation of merchants, before whom 
Antonio used to rate Shylock, must have been a smal] 
one, and Pierre could not well have chosen a worse 
place for his * evening walk of meditation.’ The fact 
is, however, that the little island which formed the 
cradle of Venice, where the first church was built by 
the fugitives from the persecution of Attila, was called 
Riva-alta, or Rialto. Here too was the exchange 
where the merchants met. In process of time the 
bridge leading to the island was called the Rialto, and 
has at last become the sole proprietor of the name.” 

To this we may add, in the case of Shakspeare, that 
the present bridge had only been completed a year or 
two when the * Merchant of Venice’ was written ; 
and every passage, in which the Rialto is mentioned 
or alluded to, seems to describe it rather as an ex- 
change than a bridge. First, Shylock says :— 

‘¢ Yie rails 
Even there where merchants most do congregate, 


On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift, 
Which he calls interest.” 


This place is afterwards said to be the “ Rialto :’— 


“ Sienior Antonio, many a time and oft 
In the Rialto you have rated me 
About my monies and my usances.” 
And, finally, Shylock’s abuse of Antonio when absent 
seems to countenance the same interpretation :— 


* A bankrupt, a prodigal, who scarce dare show his head ov 
the Rialto; a beggar that used to come so smug upon the mart.” 


Reproof.—Chide a man for being angry when he is angry, 
and what will you get by it, but only some of the foam cast 
upon you? As God ts said to come down in the cool of the 
day to reprove Adam; so likewise should we come in the 
cool reason of a man’s passions, when all is quiet and tem- 
perate within, for then there is the greatest probability of 
success.— Hopkins. 


HAWKING.—No. II. 
(Continued from No. 161.] 


JuLIANA BerNERS’s curious old work to which we have 
alluded goes by the name of the ° Book of St. Albans,’ 
at which town the first edition of it was printed about 
the year 1481. The noble dame obtained from her 
grateful contemporaries the praise of being ‘* a second 
Minerva in her studies, and another Diana in her diver- 
sions.’ Her subject was well chosen: hawking was 
then the standing pastime of the noble, and the lady 
abbess treated it in the manner the most likely to please. 
The book became to falconers what Hoyle’s has since 
become to whist-players; but the Dame Juliana’s had 
moreover the merit of paying proper homage to the 
jealous distinctions between man and man, as then 
established. According to the ‘ Book of St. Albans,’ 
there was a nice adaptation of the different kinds of 
falcons to different ranks. ‘Thus, such species of hawks 
were for kings, and could not be used by any person of 
inferior dignity ;—such for princes of the blood, such 
others for the duke and great lord, and so on, down to 
the knave, or servant. In all, there were fifteen grades ; 
but whether this number was so small owing to the 
species of birds, or because it included all the factitious 
divisions of society then recognized, we cannot well 
determine. On the latter point the abbess was probably 
an authority, for in the same odd book in which she 
discusses hawking, and says something of hunting, she 
gives a treatise on the venerable science of heraldry. 
Some naturalists assure us that there are as many as 
150 distinct birds of the falcon genus; but many of 





1834.] 


these species could never be properly trained to the 
sport, or, to speak technically, ‘‘ reclaimed,’ and, still 
more, were probably unknown to our ancestors. 

In speaking of the just appropriation of the birds, 
Dame Juliana’s black-letter volume reminds us some- 
what of the nursery rhymes “ Who killed Cock Robin ?” 
For example :— 

‘These hawks belong to an emperor : 

“The eagle, the vulture, and the merloun; and 
these be not enlured nor reclaimed, because they be too 
ponderous to the perch-portatif *. and these three, by 
their nature, belong unto an emperor. | 

‘These hawks are due to a king: 

“The gyr-falcon, and the tercel of the gyr-falcon, 
and these are due to a king. 

‘¢ Hawks that be for a prince : 

** The falcon- -gentle, and the tercel-gentle, and these 
be for a prince.’ 

And so it continues down to the Te tosk. for a 
priest, a musket for a holy-water clerk, and (last of all) 
a kesterel for a knave, or servant. 

Lhe same curious book, which was many times re- 
printed, between the end of the fifteenth and middle of 
the seventeenth century, with additions and alterations, 
contains minute instructions as to the proper modes of 
catching, rearing, clothing, educating, feeding, and 
physicking, these indispensable birds ; towether with 
nmerous lessons in the “ gentle eraft ” of flying them 
at different sorts of game. Our space, and respect for 
the patienee of our readers, must prevent us from enter- 
ing into particulars, but we will touch slightly on a few 
points which we think may be interesting. In so doing 
we shall not limit ourselves to the ° Book ¢ of St. Albans,’ 
but occasionally draw upon other writers, who, with no 
small degree of self-importance and pedantry, have laid 
down laws on the subject of hawking. 

Mrs. Glass, in giving her valuable instructions 
about cooking a hare, says, very wisely, that we must 
first “catch the hare,” not telling us, however, how 
that is‘to be done; but J uliana Berners and her 
followers minutely instruct us in the modes of catching 
a hawk. We will condense this, and some of the 
lessons that follow, as much as we can. 

The hawks, that they mieht be tamed, were to be 
taken young. When the young birds began to clamber 
about on the boughs of a tree, they were called boughers 
(or, according to the orthography of those days, 
bowers) ; after the feast of St. Margaret, when they 
began to be able to fly from tree to tree, they were 
called branchers, and then was the proper season to 
ensnare them. For this purpose, green or blue springes, 
or nets, were recommended, ‘‘ so that the branchers see 
them not among the green leaves.” ‘When eaught, 
extreme care was necessary not to injure the bird’s 
talons and pinions. The next operation was to blind- 
fold, or, as it was termed technically, to ‘‘ inseele”’ the 
young prisoner. 

“To do this,” say the authorities, ** take needle and 
thread and pass it through the upper eye-lid, and so of 
the other, and then make the threads fast under the 
beak of the hawk, so that she see not, both her upper 
lids being brought down over her eyes.” ‘T’his was the 
aucicnt and approved practice; but Dame Juliana 
Berners informs us that, in her days, there were some 
‘‘ falconers of latter and better knowledge” who had 
discovered that the bird could be blind-folded without 
being wounded and tortured. We beg attention to the 
useless eruelty, and to the leneth of time that elapsed 
before its uselessness was discovered. And yet the dis- 
eovery was not so great or difficult. It was simply 
this ;—that a piece of cloth, or strong handkerchief, 
drawn over the bird’s head, would more effectually 
shut out daylight than imperfectly sewing up its eycs. 

* Too heavy to be carried on the fist in aafeoner fashion. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


4\} 


But in those days all discovery went at a snail’s pace, 
After the young hawk was inseeled, she was to be 
carried home, cast on the perch, and left a night and a 
day in darkness, and without food. This time having: 
passed, the faleoner was instructed “ to take and cut 
away the thread softly for breaking the eyelids,” if the 
bird had suffered from the needle and thread; but 
otherwise he had only to remove the cloth. ‘“ Thon 
wilt then,’ continue the masters of the eraft, “‘ go and 
begin to reclaim her, and deal easily with her till she 
will sit fairly upon thy fist ; and this second night after 
feeding her, make her keep awake all night, ‘and eke 
the next day, and then she will be easy enough to be 
reclaimed ; and the first meal she eateth, let it be hot 
capon-meat, and give her enough thereof. s | 

Hawks, however, were not always tamed quite so 
soon. In one of the strangest works we have looked 
into—* An approved Treatise of Hawks and Hawk- 
ing, by Edmund Bert, Gent., which was published 
in London, in 1619—the patient and erudite author 
says,—‘* I have heard of some who watched and kept 
their hawks awake seven nights and as many days, and 
yet would they be wild, rammish, and disorderly.” 
This ** wentleman ”’ is altogether a euriosity; he reared 
hawks himself, ‘and with such success that he proudly 
boasts he had sold a simple goshawk and tercel of his 
training for one oundred. marks. From his own ac- 
count, the greater part of his time—almost the whole 
of it, except when he slept—must have been occu- 
pied by his birds. ‘“‘ There cannot,’ he says, ‘‘ be 
too much familiarity between a man and his hawk.” 
And yet this gentleman thought his: time well employed, 
for he also says, “T feel it:most burdensome to spend 
my time idly.” Few who professed it.could ever have 
had a higher notion of the gentle craft than the said 
Edmund Bert, who thus philosophizes on the subject :-— 
‘* Whoever undertaketh this profession, I will wish him - 
an able body, a quick spirit, and, most of all, an earnest 
love and delight thereunto ; to such a man a hawk will 
quickly teach wisdom, but of him that wanteth wit she 
will make a fool, and of a-dull spirit a true pack-horse.” 
It must, however, be: admitted that great patience and 
temper, if not wit and talent, were really required in the 
thoroughly taming and teaching the fierce birds. In 
: Country Contentments, another book of.the same sort, 
written by Gervase Markham, and published in. London, 
in 1615, those who shall ehoose “ this most princely 
and serious delight” are recommended to make use of 

“ often gazing and looking of them in the face, with a 
loving and rentle countenance, by the which the hawks 
will become acquainted and familiar.” Master Ger- 
vase’s own practice was constantly to carry about with 
him the bird he was reclaiming—to accustom it to the 
sieht of dogs and horses—to all sorts of noises, even to 
the clatter and hammering of a blacksmith’s or farrier’s 
shop—and to make it stand without flinching or blink- 
ine before a fire, or lighted candles. He says, when 
the hawk is “* passingly reclaimed, you must bring her. 
to lure by easy degrees ; first, by dainties, making her 
jump upon your fist, then to fall.upon the lure, when 
held out to it, and then to come at the sound of your 
voice; and to deli¢ht her the more with the lure, have 
it ever garnished, on both sides, with warm and bloody 
meat.” 

These lures seem to have been of various sorts. In 
very old times, a “ ‘Tabur- stycke,” which was merely a 
piece of wood, rounded and besmeared with blood, was 
in use; but, With the prorress of civilization, a better 
lure, called a * hawker,” was introduced. The hawker 
was a staff about twenty-two inches long, cased at the 
upper part with iron, having a bell “ rather cf a sullen 
tone than musical,” and the figure of a bird, with out- 
stretched wings, curved at the ‘top. When this. instru- 
ment was agitated, a reclaimed hawk would descend to 


3G 2 


412 


it froin the clouds; but, we believe, for a bird of the 
highest training nothing more was required than to 
shake the tasseled hood we ste in the hand of the 
sportsman in our engraving, and to use the voice. 


* 4 ¢ - r} ~~) “ 
Pi Wie Mn eS BOS. 
yey % ae 8 +e * 3 

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Pt FEE : 
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4 hea aS 





OM IE ae = 
(Luring the Hawk. From Reidinger.} 


The falconer, or ‘* austringer,” as he is frequently 
called in old English, is told by the scientific to make 
one meal serve the hawk for three, if, while under the 
process of reclaiming and enluring, she should at any 
time become indocile, or rammish. But when low diet 
has © tamed her fiery spirit down,” he must gradually 
increase her meals, and coax her with tit-bits. Pigeons, 
choice fowls, and chickens “* that be small and tender,” 
were consequently much in request in all mews. In 
1531 Sir Thomas Elyot lamented that providing the 
numberless hawks then kept by the Enelish eentry 
with their customary food of hens almost threatened 
the total extinction of the valuable race of domestic 
poultry. 

As a young terrier is trained: to killing rats by being 
first iet loose upon mice, or very small rats, so the 
falconer, when he first took a young hawk into the field, 
only flew, or cast her off, at pigeons or partridges, and 
such easy game; for if the bird was foiled or punished 
at her first beginning by larger game, she almost 
invariably lost courage, and became what sportsmen 
called an “ eyas,” a ‘* foul kesterel,”’ or ‘* degenerate 
kite,’ and other contemptuous names. If. the hawk 
killed the partridge at which she flew, she was rewarded 
with the head and neck, which was cut off and rubbed 
over with blood; and when she had regaled herself, she 
was left some time “ to rejoice,” which signified to clean 


her beak, prune her feathers, &c. Some hawks could : 


= ‘ 
—" _— _ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[Octrozer 25, 


| never be trained to follow larger game than pheasants 
and partridges ; others would only fly at the huge heron, 


the wild goose, or duck; but the true bird might be 


}cast off equally well at all these and other kinds of 


game. When the hawk in her flight and attack did 
not kill her prey, but only strike its feather, she was 
said ‘* to rifle,” and if she did this frequently she was 
called a ‘‘rifler.’” ‘The names and titles belonging 
to hawks, and fixed terms to commend their sundry 
properties, are prescribed with true technical nicety by 
the old writers. According to the ‘ Book of St. Albans,’ 
“You shall say that such a one is a fair hawk, a huge 
hawk, a long hawk, a short thick hawk; but not that 
she is a great hawk, or in that manner. Also, you 
shall say, this hawk has a large beak, or a short beak ; 
but call it not a bill! You shall say, cast your hawk to 
the perch, and on no account, set your hawk upon a 
perch.” 

Careful directions were given as to the proper fashion 
of making and putting on the hoods. Above all things 
the hoods were to be drawn gently over their heads, for 
if the birds were hurt by them they would not willingly 
return to the tassels. But, besides hoods, the hawks 
were decorated with two small bells, the proper choice 
of which was another matter of capital importance. 
These bells were not to be too heavy, nor of unequal 
weight; they were to be clear, shrill, and well-sounding, 
but not both of one sound. One bell was to be at least 
a note higher than the other, and great attention was to 
be paid at all times that neither was cracked. It ap- 
pears that, in old times, these bells were chiefly im- 
ported. ‘* Of sparrowhawk-bells,” says the ‘ Book of 
St. Albans,’ “ there is choice enough, and the charge 
little. But for goshawks, sometime bells from Milayne 
(Milan) were supposed to be the best, and undoubtedly 
they be excellent, for.that they are sounded with silver, 
and the price of them is thereafter. But there now be 
used bells out of the Low Countries which are approved 
to be passing good, for they are principally sorted ; 
they are well sounded and sweet ringing, with a pleasant 
shrillness, and excellently well lasting.” 

The various accoutrements of the sportsman were of 
course attended to by these minnte framers of instruc- 
tions. After the lure, the ereat leather glove seems to 
have been the most important part of their equipment. 
Specimens of these hawking gloves, of various sizes, 
and for both sexes, are still preserved in some cabinets 
of the curious. Although there were many operations 
in the sport, such as besmearing the hawker, breaking 
the herons’ lees, and the like, not at all well suited to 
female delicacy and gentleness, falconry was pursued by 
our ladies, both on horseback and on foot, with excessive 
eagerness. Strutt, in his industrious work on the 
‘Sports and Pastimes of the English,’ gives one or 
two engravings, from very old pictures, representing 
ladies followed by dogs, and running on foot, with 
their hawks on their fists, to cast them off at game. 
Indeed, John of Salisbury, who wrote in the thirteenth 
century, says that the women even excelled the men in 
the knowledge and practice of falconry, whence he un- 
gallantly takes occasion to call the sport itself frivolous 
and effeminate. ‘Taken altogether, however, a hunting 
party of this kind, composed of knights and dames, 
mounted on their piaffing manége horses, 

‘Ryding on hawking by the river, 
With grey goshawk in hand* ;” 
and with their train of falconers, in appropriate costume, 
and their well-broken dogs, and the silver music of the 
bells, mingled with a variety of other sounds, must 
have been a pleasant enough scene to behold, or to 
form part of. 
i"or most species of wame, it appears. that spaniels, 


at 


rg Chaucer, 


1834.] 


cockers, or other dog's, were required to rouse the birds 
to wing. When at a proper elevation, the hawk, being 
freed from his head-gear, was cast off from the sports- 
man’s fist, with a loud whoop to encourage her. But 
here great science was required ; and it was frequently 
made matter of anxious and breathless debate as to 
whether the far yettee or the jettee serré should be 
adopted. ‘These terms, like many more employed in 
those days in hawking and hunting, were derived from 
the French. Jeter signifies to throw, or cast off. 
The far gettee meant to cast off the hawk at a distance 
from the quarry it was to pursue; and the jettee serré 
to fly it as near to the bird, or as soon after the destined 
prey had taken wing, as possible. But many considera- 
tions were involved in these decisions :—the species of 
the quarry,—the peculiar properties of the hawk on 
hand at the time,—the .nature of the country,—the 
force and direction of the wind, and numerous other 
circumstances, had to be duly pondered. 










4b phe. 
+ 
=» 


=, 0 aay 
ee WLW 


oe "Cop: 
a4 


~~ (A , os ~~ 


mal Slt / 7 As 


(Casting-off the Hawk. From Reidinger.], 


When the hawk was cast off, it flew in the direetion 
of the game, and endeavoured to surmount it, or get 
above it, in its flight. To obtain this advantage, when 
herons and other birds strong on the wing were pur- 
sued, the hawk was obliged to have recourse to scaling, 


or ascending the air by performing a succession of 


small circles, each going higher and higher, like the 
steps of a winding cork-screw stair-case. In whatever 
way it was performed, this was called “the mount.” At 
times, both the pursuer and pursued would fly’so high 
as almost to be lost in the clouds. When the hawk 
reached a proper elevation above the game, she shot 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


413 


down upon it with all her force and velocity, and this 
descent was technically called “ the stoop,” or “ the 
swoop.’ John Shaw, Master of Arts, of Cambridge, 
who published a strange book called * Speculum 
Mundi’ (The World’s Looking-glass), in that learned 
city, in 1635, informs us that the heron, or hernsaw, 
“is a large fowle that liveth about waters,” and that 
hath a marvellous hatred to the hawk, which hatred is 
duly returned. ‘‘ When they fight above in the air, 
they labour both especially for this one thing, that one 
may ascend and be above the other. Now, if the 
hawk getteth the upper place, he overthroweth and 
vanquisheth the heron with a marvellous earnest flight.” 
It should seem, however, that this was not always the 
case, and that the heron sometimes received the hawk 
on its long, sharp bill, and so transfixed and killed her. 
When the hawk closed or grappled with her prey 
(which was called binding, in falconry), they generally 
tumbled down from the sky together, and the object of 
the sportsman was, either by running on foot, or gallop- 
ing his horse, to get to the spot as soon as they should 
touch the earth, in order to assist the hawk in her 
struggle with her prey. ) ; 

We believe all birds of the Falcon genus naturally 
strike their prey with their talons, or claws; but in one 
of our engravings we see a hawk striking and binding 
a wild duck with her beak. So correct a delineator as 
Reidinger was not likely to make a mistake; and in- 
deed we see it mentioned in one of the books we have 
consulted, that a hawk, well reclaimed and_enlured, 
would kill the smaller game with her beak, or the 
strong percussion of her breast-bone, and then hold, or 
bind it, with her beak. . 


R's 





MEERZA ABUL HASSAN.—No: II. 
: [Concluded from No. 163,) 


WueEn the Persian ambassador landed in England, the 

first thing which strongly attracted his notice was the’ 
splendour of our ‘ caravanserais,” as he called our: 
hotels. Such magnificent looking-glasses as in Persia 
are peculiar to royal palaces, and the quantity of plate 
and e@lass-ware which appeared at the dinner-table, drew 

from him expressions of the strongest surprise, par- 

ticularly when he was told that these were the common 

appendages of our “* caravanserais.’ ‘The people of 
the inn at Plymouth, where he was in the first instance 

accommodated, partook of the common persuasion in 

England, that nothing can be too hot for a native of the 

East; and it being then cn the verge of winter, they 

loaded his bed with such a quantity of warm covering 

that he had scarcely been in it an hour before he was 

obliged to get out again. The heat was insupportable 

to one who had all his life slept on nothing: but a mat- 

tress, on the bare ground. In this case he walked 

about the greater part of the night, and all the people 

of the inn followed him in procession, being quite un- 

able to discover what could be the matter with him. 

A public coach was hired for the conveyance of the 
ambassador’s servants to London. Four of them who 
eot inside seated themselves cross-legged, in which 
posture they completely filled the coach; and it was 
impossible to convince them there could be room for 
more, although the vehicle was calculated to contain 
six persons in the ordinary mode of sitting. They 
armed themselves for the journey with pistols and 
swords, and each of them carried a musket in Iris hand, 
as is usual in their own country; and persisted in taking 
these encumbrances with them in the coach, although 
they were assured that they need not apprehend the 
least molestation. 'The Meerza himself greatly enjoyed 
the novelty of a carriage. ‘The speed with which he 
travelled deliehted him, particularly when he perceived 
that the motion was as rapid by night as by day; but 


Al4 


that all this was done without a euide greatly surprised 


him. 
In Persia, a deputation (Istakbull) headed by some 


person of distinction is sent to meet an ambassador ; 
and, wherever he stops, the people come out in a body | 


to meet him. The Persian ambassador was therefore 
ereatly surprised at the little attention his progress ex- 
cited. Two posts from London, he was met by two 
gentlemen from the Foreign Office; but, on a nearer 
approach to town, his uneasiness at the non-appearance 
of such an Istakbull as he felt entitled to expect became 
very great; and his mortification could not be allayed 
by the information that no disrespect was intended, 
and that our modes of doing honour to ambassadors 
were different from those of Persia. To him the interest 
of the road must greatly have increased on the near 
approach to the city; yet he desired to have both the 
glasses of the carriage drawn up, for he said that he 
did not at all understand the nature of such an entry, 
which seemed to him more like smuggling a bale of 
goods into a town tlian the reception of a public efi'voy. 
The fine house and splendid establishment which he 
found ready to receive him in London were insufficient 
to raise his spirits after such a mortifying reception. 
The first object of the Meerza was to deliver his 
credentials to the kine as soon as possible, .because it is 
considered a slight in Persia if this ceremony be delayed. 
Here again he was disappointed; for, in consequence 
of his Majesty’s indisposition, on an intermediate levee- 
day, ten days elapsed before he could be introduced at 
court. He said he should lose his head for this on his 
return to Persia, and bitterly lamented his own hard 
fate. As the day approached, he felt great anxiety 
about his reception. In his own country, all the details 
of the interview are matters of previous negotiation ; 
and a Persian triumphs less that he has successfully 
transacted a piece of public business, than that he has 
arranged a ceremonial in such a manner as he thinks 
most honourable to his sovereign and himself. His 
ideas of the court of George IIT. were formed from 
what he recollected of that of the Shah of Persia, on 
eapproachine to whom many ceremonies are exacted. 
He is first seen at a great distance; he is approached 
with great caution, and with many profound inclinations 
of the body. In his immediate vicinity the shoes are 
taken off, and none enter the room but by his special 
command. Nothing could possibly present a greater 


contrast to this than the easy and unceremonious manner | 


with which the aged king received the Meerza, in a 
private audience, at the ‘‘ Queen’s House.” His Ex- 
cellency expected to have seen the king seated on a 
throne at a distance, and that he should not himseif 
have been allowed to approach within several paces. 
His astonishment nay therefore be imagined, when he 
was at once introduced into a small room, and was 
taken to a person standing there, whom he took to be 
a capijec, or porter, and was informed that this was the 
King of England. After this, the respect which the 
ambassador had before felt towards the English monarch 
was greatly diminished. He said that, if any blame 
was imputed to him for not having delivered his 
credentials immediately on his arrival, all would be 
pardoned him when the Shah understood that he was 
not desired to take off his shoes as he approached the 
king, and that he delivered his credentials into his own 
hand, ‘These circumstances strikingly illustrate the 
truth of a remark made by an acute Persian :—‘ You 
speak to the ears and understandings of other people, 
but you must speak to the eyes of my countrymen.” 

It was in the month of November when the am- 
bassador arrived in London, and the gloom of the 
weather had a very sensible effect upon his health and 
spirits. For two months he never saw the sun, and his 


suite were perfectly persuaded that they had got into 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[OcronER 25, 


‘regions beyond its influence ; but one day several of 
j them rushed in to inform their master that they had 


just seen the sun, and that, if he made haste, perhaps 
he might see it also. | 

The Meerza acquired with great facility our habits of 
life, and soon became accustomed to our furniture, our 
modes of eating, our hours, our forms and ceremonies, 


rand even our language ;—“ though perhaps,” says 


Mr. Morier, ‘‘ with respect to the latter acquirement, 
it might rather be observed, that he soon learnt sufficient 
just to misunderstand every thing that was said.” 

It would be difficult to define the impression made 
by such thing's as an opera or a play upon a Persian. 
When the Meerza was first taken to the opera, he 
evidently felt a strong impression of surprise on enter- 
ing his box, which his pride made him endeavour to 
conceal. He was afterwards taken to see the play of 
‘ King Lear ;’ and the story, which is strongly calen- 
lated to affect one whose natural respect for majesty 
is so great as that of a Persian, brought tears from him 
in great plenty, although he did not understand the 
language spoken by the actors. On being taken to 
hear a debate in the House of Commons, he imme- 
diately sided with a young orator, who gained him 
over by his earnest and impassioned manner; and, at 
the House of Lords, the great object of his remark 
was the Lord Chancellor, whose enormous wig, which 
he compared to a sheep-skin, awoke all his curiosity. 
But of all the sights which the Persian Ambassador 
witnessed in London, none seem to have interested him 
so much as the anniversary of the charity children in 
St. Paul’s Cathedral. He appears to have acquired on 
that ocGasion more real esteem for the institutions and 
national character of England, than he did from aught 
else that engaged his attention in this country; for he 
frequently, afterwards, referred to his feelings on that 
occasion. | ‘ 

But the time at last came when Meerza Abul 
Hassan was to return to his own country, accompanied 
by Sir Gore Ouseley, who: had been appointed am- 
bassador to the Court of Persia. It is gratifying to 
our national feeling to know that, with the prospect of 
home before them, many of the Persians left this country 
with regret, and shed tears on parting from their Eng- 
lish friends; several would willingly have’ remained in 
Kngland; and one in particular, who had been struck 
with the quiet and security of an Englishman’s life, 
compared to that of a Persian, exclaimed that he 
could not wish for a better paradise than Chelsea 
Hospital, where, for the remainder of his days, he could 
sit under the trees, do nothing, and drink as much 
porter as he liked. a: 

It was on the 18th of July, 1810, that the vessel 
containing the ambassadors and their suites left Spit- 
head. On the llth of September she made Cape Frio, 
and, as she approached the shore, the attention of the . 
Persians was directed to the Yengee Duniah, or ** New 
World,” of which they had heard so much in their own 
country, and concerning which they were prepared to 
believe any thing, however marvellcus. ‘They seemed, 
therefore, ereatly surprised to see nothing but common 
round and common trees, and expressed great astonish- 
ment that the New World should be so much like the 
olay... | 

Mr. Morier, who accompanied the party as secretary 
of embassy, often endeavoured to awaken the mind of 
the Meerza to the objects of sublime contemplation 
which the great ocean offered. But his Excellency 
could see nothing but misery, inconvenience, and dis- 
appointment, in a sea voyage; and insisted that he 
could contemplate the wonders of creation quite as well 
on a horse as in a ship. He generally finished his 
arguments on this head by a quotation from Saadi, his 
favourite poet, which runs to this effect :—“ E had rather 


1834.] 


give one hundred ¢omawns than pass over even one wave 
of the sea.” 

On their arrival at Bombay it was notified to the 
Meerza that his conduct in England had the entire 
approval of his sovereign, who, by a special firman, in- 
vested him with the title of Khan. ‘This was a happy 
relief from the anxiety which he had long felt on this 
subject. In Bombay a house was prepared for his re- 
ception, a mehmandar appointed to attend him, and he 
and all his suite were entertained at the public expense. 
His behaviour there was rather assuming, in con- 
sequence apparently of the great attentions he had 
received in England. Against all precedent, he de- 
manded the tribute of the first visit from the Governor 
of Bombay. His argument was, that he had been visited, 
not only by the father and grandfather of the East 
Tudia Company (meaning the Chairman and Deputy 
Chairman), but that he had also received the first visits 
from all the King of England’s viziers, not excepting 
the prime vizier, who all came to see him clothed in the 
same dresses in which they appeared before their own 
sovereign. How then could he pay the first visit toa man 
who was only aservant of the Company, which Com- 
pany was subject to the king? The Governor at length 
ceded the point, and a few days afterwards the Khan, 
arrayed in crimson velvet, and with a diamond-hilted 
dagger in his girdle, returned the visit, and was received 
in great state. Whenever, during his stay in Bombay, 
Mr. Morier called to see him, he always found him 
surrounded by Indians, and his own countrymen, hold- 
ing forth upon his travels; and it was pleasing to hear 
him express his gratitude for the kindness with which 
he had been received during his stay among us, and 
his enthusiastic admiration of England. With this 
enthusiasm, added to the propensity to exaggerate 
natural to a Persian, he kept his auditors in constant 
wonder. ‘* It would be impossible,” says Mr. Morier, 
‘* to enumerate all the amusing things which he said of 
us,—our women, our amusements, and our govern- 
ment.” 

When the English party visited the caverns of Ele- 
phanta, they were surprised, on entering the great cave, 
to see the Persian Ambassador, with a serious and col- 
lected air, pacing its length with all the gravity of an 
antiquarian, while his companion, a Persian merchant, 
was observing him with great astonishment. ‘The 
Khan seemed quite impressed by what he saw, and said 
the ancient remains in Persia were not to be compared 
with it. ‘This spirit of investigation he must have 
caught from the English, for, before he left Persia, he 
used to laugh at the zeal with which the gentlemen of 
the embassy sought for antiquities, which seemed un- 
accountable to him, as it does to all his countrymen. 
This is one of many facts which illustrate the extreme 
facility with which the Persians adopt, not only the 
customs, but the habits of thought and action of other 
people. 

At an hour declared auspicious by the astrologers 
on the 3rd of March, 1811, the Persian Ambassador 
landed in his own country, at Busheer. Owing to the 
want of a recular landing-place, he was obliged to be 
carried out of the boat on men’s shoulders. A number 
of Persians pressed around him to offer their services, 
but he declined them, and desired that the English 
sailors might bear him on shore, saying, by them he 
had been brought thus far, and by them he would be 
landed—a sort of attention well calculated to gain the 
hearts of the seamen. 

Sir Gore Ouseley, on his introduction to the King of 
Persia, at a subsequent period, as ambassador from 
i¢ngland, took occasion to extol the conduct of the Per- 
sian Envoy during lus stay in that country. The king 
appeared to be highly gratified, and ordered Meerza 
Abul Hassan Khan to be called. He scon appeared, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


415 


and stood, with his shoes off, by the side of a basin of 
water, in the court below the open apartment in which 
the king was seated. The king then said to him, 
aloud— Aferin, aferin, well done, well done, Abul 
Hassan! You have made my face white in a foreign 
country, and I will make your face white in this. You 
are one of the noblest of the families in my kingdom, 
and, with the help of God, I will raise you to the digni- 
ties of your ancestors ;” at which words the Meerza 
knelt down, and actually touched the earth with his 
forehead. He was afterwards employed as ambassador 
to the Court of St. Petersburg, and, after having dis- 
charged that public business, was enabled, through a 
pension allowed him by the East India Company, to 
live in his own country with an independence of royal 
caprice or cupidity, of which the comfort can only be 
understood in such a country as Persia. When Colonel 
Johnson was at 'Tehraun, in 1817, he paid the Meerza 
a visit, and states—‘ We found him a most affable 
and well-bred man: in his manners there was an ac- 
quired freedom of address, and a friendly ease in his 
conversation, much of which he owed to his residence 
in Europe. He lives in a much more splendid style 
than the vizier,—has chairs for those English gentlemen 
who visit him, and shows them every attention.” With 
this we must conclude; it having been our object 
rather to exhibit the deportment of a Persian while in 
immediate contact with a more refined and civilized 
condition of society than his own, than to enter into the 
subsequent details of his private life. 


Virtue.x—A virtuous man will be virtuous iz solitudine, 
and not only 2n theatro.—Bacon. 


Church Nosegays.—The following curious custom exists 
onthe Elbe. The peasantry who possess a bit of land, how- 
ever small, never enter the church without having a nose- 
gay in their hands, They thus show that they claim the 
consideration due to persons who possess some property in 
the parish. Among the country-people in the neighbour- 
hood of Hamburg, there is no garden so small as not to 
possess a place for the flowers intended for this use, and 
the plat is distinguished by the name of “ the Church-Nose- 
gay.’—Magusin Umnversel. 


Ancient Church Books.—At the commencement of the 
fifteenth century, the manuscript books of the church were 
articles of great rarity and price. As an instance of this we 
may mention that, when a priest named Henry Beda, in 
the year 1406, bequeathed his manuscript breviary to the 
church of Jacques-la-Boucherie, he left, at the same time, 
to William l’Exale, the churchwarden of the said church, 
the sum of forty sols, to pay the expense of having a 
cage made in which the breviary might be kept. The 
pious and learned persons of these times assembled around 
such books for the purpose of reading their prayers; but 
that no one might be tempted to take them away, they 
were attached to a chain which was fastened in the wall.—- 
Magasin Pittoresque. 


ee 


THE CALABASH-TREE. 


Tuts tree derives its botanical name (Crescentia 
eujete) from Pietto Crescentio, an Italian writer 
on agriculture, who lived towards the end of the 
thirteenth century. Its ordinary name is a corrup- 
tion of that of calabaga, given it by the Spaniards. 
It is a native of the West Indies and central America, 
where it grows to the height of about twenty feet, 
and attains a diameter which has bee: somewhat inde- 
finitely compared to that of the human body. The 
trunk is crooked, dividing at the top Into humerous, 
very long, thick, nearly simple, and almost horizontal 
branches. The leaves are clustered, nine or ten tu- 
wether, at irregular distances, from five to ten inches 
long; they are about one inch broad, narrowing very 


416 


gradually towards the base, and terminating in a long 
peint; and are entire, smooth, and rather shining. 
The flowers are single, seated on a thick peduncle 
arising’ from the larger branches and sometimes from 
the trunk : they are of a large size, variegated with red 
and yellow, and altogether have a beautiful appearance, 
but a very disagreeable smell. The fruit varies in 
size and figure on different trees ; but may be described 
as round, oval, or bottle-shaped, from two inches to a 
foot in diameter, covered with a thin greenish-yellow 
skin, enclosing a thin, hard, and almost woody shell, 
which contains a pale yellow, soft, juicy pulp of an 
unpleasant taste, but which, as well.as the leaves and 
the juice, is esteemed a valuable remedy in several 
external and internal disorders. The pulp contains 
several flat seeds, which, being brought over in the ripe 
fruit, and sown in pots of light, fresh, rich earth, 
plunged in a bark hot-bed and always kept in the stove, 
will produce the plant in this country ; but we cannot 
learn that in this situation it ever develops its flowers. 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[OcropER 25, 1834, 


The shell, stripped of its external skin and’ emptied 
of its juice, is used, according to its size, for various 
kinds of domestic vessels, such as water-cans, goblets, 
coffee-cups, spoons, ladles, and even for kettles to boil 
water in; for the shell is so hard and close grained as 
to bear the fire several successive times without injury. 
When intended for ornamental vessels they are some- 
times highly polished, and have figures engraven upon 
them, which are variously tinged with indigo and other 
colours. ‘* John Rutherford informs us, that the cala- 
bash is the only vessel possessed by the New Zea- 
landers for holding any kind of liquid; and adds, that 
when they drink out of it, they never permit it to touch 
their lips, but. hold their faces up, and pour the liquor 
into their mouths. After dinner they place themselves 
for the purpose in a row, when a slave goes from one 
to another with the calabash, and each holds his hand 
under his chin as the liquor is poured by the slave into 
his mouth.*”  : -.. a ) 

* New Zealandevs.— Library of Entertaining Knowldge.’ 


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415 


Tne city of Oxford ‘is tne capital of the county to 
which it vives name, and, as the seat of one of the most 
celebrated universities of Europe, equalled by few in 
extent, wealth, and antiquity, claims a relative im- 
portance much beyond that to which it would be entitled 
by the amount of its population. ‘The town is situated 
in the central part of England, about fifty-four miles 
N.N.W. of London, and is pleasantly placed upon a 
gentle eminence ina valley at the confluence of two 
small rivers, the Isis and Cherwell. ‘These streams, in 
their eircuitous and meanderiig approach to each other, 
almost enclose the city, the former on the west and 
south, and the latter on the east. Along the rivers, and 
between them and the city, lie rieh and verdant mea- 
dows, beyond which the prospect is bounded by an 
amphitheatre of hills, except towards the north, where 
it extends over arich ehampaign country, in the highest 
state of cultivation. 

The origin of the name of Oxford is not at all well 
determined, although much more has been written on 
the subject than its importance demanded. ‘The com- 
mon opinion has been, that it was ealled by the Saxons 
“Oxenford,” in the same sense as the Greeks did their 
Bosphori, and the Germans their Ochsenfort on the 
Oder, namely, as the ford for oxen; hence the arms of 
the city at present exhibit a sort of rebus on this sup- 
posed etymology of its name, in a ox crossing @ ford. 
We mention this chiefly for the sake of introducing a 
just remark of Warton, who observes that the great 
source of corruption in etymologies of names, both of 
. places and men, consists in the natural propensity to 
substitute, in the place of one difficult and obscure, a 
more eommon and better-known appellation suggested 
by affinity ofsound. Warton himself concurs with Leland 
in thinking that, by a curious process of corruption which 
he traces, the name comes from ‘‘ Ouse-ney-ford,” the 
ford at or near Ouseney, or the meadow of Ouse, Ouse 
being the general name for river or.water. ‘This name 
passed through a variety of forms, such as Oksnaforda, 
Oxnaford, and Oxeneford, to Oxenford, of which Oxiord 
is a eontraction. 

Oxford is a place of very remote antiquity; but the 
period of its origin is involved in considerable un- 
certainty, from the difficulty of distinguishing what 
parts of the information given by the old chroniclers 
were derived by them from the legitimate sources. of 
history, and what from the legendary tales of the bards. 
We shall, however, certainly not err in assigning to the 
latter source the statement which makes the founda- 
tion of Oxford nearly coeval with the destruction of 
Troy. The first certain fact eonnected with the subject 
at which we can arrive, even under the Saxons, is, that 
in the reign of king Alfred, who.at oue time resided at 
Oxford with his three sons, the place was noted for a 
monastery, which was founded in the year 727, and 
whieh sober writers, with great appearance of pro- 
bability, conclude to have formed the nucleus of the 
town by gathering around it the dwellings of the 
laity. Since that period the name of Oxford is of very 
frequent occurrence in history ; and it will be proper 
to notice the prominent facts, without descending to such 
subordinate details as might be thought interesting 
in a more extended account than it is our object to 
supply. . 

Almost our earliest authentic information of the 
existence of-this town states that it was set on fire twice, 
and otherwise suffered much from the Danes, in the 
reign of Ethelred the Unready; we are therefore pre- 
pared to learn that when that monarch ordered a 
oeneral massacre of the Danes throughout his do- 
minions, this order was executed with the’ most terrible 
fidelity at Oxford in particular. In revenge for the 
ective part which it took in this transaction, Sweyn 


acain fired the town on his next desceut on this coun- | 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


fOcrosper 31 


try; and in the year 1013 the place was surrendered 
to him by order of Ethelred. In subsequent vears, 
Oxford was frequently the residence of the court. Iéd- 
mund LTronside was murdered there; Canute held there 
a oreat eouncil, at which the laws of Edgar were made 
binding upon all the subjects of the crown,—Danes as 
weil as English; and on the death of that prince a 
Witenagemote was held there to settle the succession 
of the crown, and Harold Harefoot, who succeeded, 
was erowned and died at Oxford. The town seems to 
have been much attached to the other Harold, who was 
killed at Hastings, and was one of those that held out 
for a time against the Conqueror, who, however, took 
it by storm, in 1067, and bestowed it upon Robert 
D’Oyley, one of his officers, in whom he had great eon- 
fidence. ‘* This Robert,” says William of Malmsbury, 
‘made the Castelle of Oxford, and, as I eonject, other 
[either] made the waulles of Oxford, or repaired them.” 
This castle was in tolerable repair in the early part of the 
eivil war between King Charles and the Parliament, 
but it afterwards went to decay, and all that now 
remains is St. George's Tower, of which so much 
as is habitable is used as the county prison; the keep, 
in which is a strong vaulted ehamber, with a well of 
oreat depth, and a crypt, now used as a store-cellar. 
After the erection of this castle, Oxford beeame more 
submissive, and appears to have become quite reconciled 
to the Norman yoke before the death of the Conqueror. 
Lhe Empress Maude, daughter of Henry 1., during her 
contest with Kine Stephen, obtained possession of the 
castle; but being elosely besiewed by the latter, she 
avoided being taken prisoner only by escaping through 
the postern-gate, dressed in white linen, with four 
knights similarly diseuised. She passed across the 
Isis, which was frozen, and travelled on foot six miles, 
throurh deep snow, to Abingdon, and thence to Wal- 
lingford, where she was joyfully welcomed. - Her son, 
Henry II., resided, during the greater part of his reign, 
at Oxford, in a palace ealled Beaumont, which had 
been built by his grandfather; in this palace was born 
his valiant son, Richard Coeur de Lion, who held a 
council there before his departure for Palestine. King 
John spent much of his time in the same palace, and he 
had a meeting with his barons in the vicinity, about two 
months before they eompelled him to sign the Magna 
Charta. Henry III. also occasionally resided at Ox- 
ford, and several parliaments and councils were held 
there during his reign ; but afterwards the town became 


, 


less distinguished as the residence of the eourt and the — 


theatre of political transactions. 
present of the palace to the Carmelites, and some remains 
of it are still extant. 

Yn the reign of Henry VIII. Oxford was the seat of 
one of the six new bishoprics ereated by that monarch. 
In the reign of his daughter Mary, Oxford was chosen 


forthe burning of the bishops Latimer and Ridley, for 


the alleged erimes of heresy and treason; and, a few 
months after, Cranmer suffered death at the same place. 
To Queen Elizabeth the homage of learning was par- 


ticularly grateful, and she visited the place frequently in 


order to receive it. Her successor was driven thither, 
on one oceasion, for refuge from the plague in London; 
but the plague reached-Oxford also, and its devastations 


Jidward IT. made a ~ 


were so awful, that the scholars hastened from the uni- 


versity, and the citizens shut up their shops. ‘‘ Nota 
living creature,’ says Ayliffe, “‘ besides nurses and 
corpse-bearers, was to be seen in the streets, which 
were covered with grass, even in the market-place.” 
During the civil war, in the reign of Charles I., Oxford 
was the scene of some important transactions. The— 
king, after the battle of Edgehill, in October, 1642, 
made himself. master of the place, which may he said to 


have remained his head-quarters until 1646, when, 


having previously delivered himself up to the Scottish 


7 





F 


1834.) 


J 





army, at Newark, he eave orders that the town should 
be surrendered to the parliamentary forces. 


The appearance of Oxford from the high grounds 
to the east and south-west is highly picturesque and 
interesting. The view embraces groups of towers, 
domes, spires, pinnacles, and turrets, intermingled with 
dark masses of foliage, surrounded by rich meadows, 
intersected by many streams. The striking effect is 
not diminished, althouch varied, on a nearer approach, 
which affords an opportunity for the number and mag- 
nitude of the public buildings, with the splendid details 
of their architecture, to be more distinctly observed. 
The town, with its immediate suburbs, comprises an 
area of about three miles in circumference, extending a 
mile and a quarter from east to west, and nearly as far 
from north to south. The city itself is of an oval form, 
and was formerly surrounded by a wall, with bastions 
150 feet distant from each other; but of these works 
there are very few existing traces. The franchise of the 
city extends to a considerable distance from the town in 
the north-westerly direction, and is altorether compre- 
hended within a circumferénce of about ten miles. The 
Reform Bill only disturbed the old boundary by ex- 
tending it eastward so as to include the parish of 
St. Clement’s and part of Cowley parish. The increase 
of the town beyond the city boundary has chiefly been 
in this direction, ‘‘one cause of which,’ says the 
Boundary Report, ‘is, that shops can be opened here 
by persons who are not freemen of the city, but who 
find their habitations sufficiently near to answer their 
purpose as tradesmen.” 

The approaches to Oxford from the London road on 
the east, and from the west, the north, and the south, 
are all very fine, though dissimilar in effect. The 
entrances from all these directions, except the north, 
are over bridges. ‘The eastern or Magdalen Bridge is 
an elegant stone structure over the Cherwell. It is 
926 feet in length,and was built in 1779, at an ex- 
pense of 8000/. The western bridge, over the Isis, 
consists of three substantial arches. On the south, at 
Folly Bridge, also over a branch of the Isis, on the 
Abingdon road, formerly stood a tower called “ Friar 
Bacon’s Study ;” but this was taken down at the recent 
erection of a new bridge, which cost 11,000/. From 
Magdalen Bridge the High Street extends, under 
different names, the whole length of the city. This 
street is generally allowed to be one of the most 
striking and beautiful in Europe. On passing the 
bridge and’ proceeding up this street, the fronts of 
many churches, colleges, aud other public edifices, in 
combination with private houses in ancient and modern 
style, are brought into view in eradual and beautiful 
succession. ‘he street is wide as well as long; but it 
has a gentle curvature to which much of its striking 
effect is owing, for at almost every step the passenger 
is presented with new objects and fine combinations, 
At one point, in particular, the whole coup d’ail is 
singularly impressive and picturesque: this is at a 
broad part of the street near the middle, where Queen’s 
College on the right hand and University College on 
the left form the fore-ground of the scene, while the 
front of All Souls, the steeple and rich meadows of 
St. Mary’s Church, the modern spire of All Saints’ 
Church, and the old tower of St. Martin’s, constitute 
the prominent features in the distance, and the whole 
presents a street-scene unrivalled in beauty, variety, and 
effect. ‘Some writers consider. that the effect of the 
view which this street affords has been deteriorated by 
the erection of lofty and elegant modern buildings in 
the place of many of the humbler remains of ancient 
Oxford, the Elizabethan inequalities of style in which 
contributed much, by variety and contrast, to the 
inpressiveness of the scene, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


After the High Street, | 


41$ 


that of St. Giles, which leads from the north of the 
city to its.centre, claims the most attention. It is 
irregularly built, as it consists almost exelusively of 
private houses, erected according to the means, the 
wants, or the taste of the owners. Many of these 
buildings are large and detached from each other, and 
the street, as a whole, has a highly pleasing and retired 
appearance. It is more than 2000 feet in length, and 
nearly 250 broad, and is planted on each side with a 
row of stately elms, while, in proceeding up or down 
the street, the fine vista is arrested either by the church 
of St. Mary Magdalen, which is placed in the centre of 
the street’s breadth at its southern termination, or by 
that of St. Giles, which is similarly situated at the 
northern. The inner streets are rather narrow, and, 
in many of them, the houses are much crowded together. 
Speaking of the houses generally, it may be said that 
those occupied by traders are in general constructed 
with fragile materials, and frequently built in an ir- 
reeular and incommodious manner. ‘The houses that 
were erected as lodgings for the students beforé residence 
in the colleges became general, or to accommodate the 
nobility and gentry during the occasional residence of the 
court at'Oxford, are still numerous, and are generally 
extensive buildings of stone. ‘The buildings. of com- 
paratively recent periods are now numerous, and are 
usually solid and commodious. We cannot more pro- 
perly characterise the present state of the city than in 
the words of the Boundary Report :—‘ In the city (as 
viewed apart from the University), new streets, elegant 
houses,—in rows and detached,—a new suburb, and 
several hundred smaller tenements, have been erected 
within the last ten years, and an active building 
speculation is going on at this present time (No- 
vember, 1831). As a town, Oxford must be considered 
very flourishing: its municipal arrangements are ex- 
cellent ;—it is maintained in perfect condition, hghted 
with eas, well paved and cleansed, and is a place of 
oredt thoroughfare: it has also the advantage of canal 
navigation, by which it is supplied with coal and all the 
more bulky articles of domestic consumption.” Through 
the means of the Thames and Oxford Canal, the town 
eljoys a considerable share of commerce, and wharfs 
and quays have been erected, and other accommodations 
provided for edrrying on the inland trade. 

The city of Oxford is divided into thirteen parishes, 
each of which is provided with its proper church. OF 
these churches that of St. Peter’s in the East is the 
most ancient. It is said to have been partly built by a 
St. Grimbald, in the ninth century, and Wood says it was 
“ the first church built of stone that appeared in these 
parts.” It has undergone many changes and altera- 
tions; but much of the ancient work stil] remains in 
what are called Saxon ornaments, and it has one of 
the finest and most perfect crypts in England, the 
arches of which are supported by four ranges of low 
Saxon columns. ‘This was formerly the university 
church. ‘The present cathedral was, at its first founda- 
tion, the conventual church of a nunnery, and is said to 
have been founded, in the eighth century, by Didan, a 
Saxon nobleman, the father of St. Frideswide, the 
first abbess, to whom the church was dedicated. It 
afterwards became the chapel of Cardinal Wolsey’s 
College of Christ Church, and it was finally made, by 


Henry VIII., the cathedral of the new bishopric of 


Oxford. Dugdale and others assign the foundation of 
the existing structure to the re‘gn of Henry I.; and it 
affords examples of the different styles of architecture 
which prevailed from that period until the commence- 
ment of the sixteenth century. It has the form of a 
cross, with a square tower surmounted by.a spire 
steeple, rising in the centre. The choir 1s ornamented 
with-a Gothic roof of splendid tracery work; and the 


dormitory, on the north of the choir, oe several 
e “ 2 


420 


ancient monuments, the most remarkable of which is a 
shrine, supposed to be that of St. Frideswide, decorated 
with tabernacle work, and exhibiting a rich specimen of 
the latest pointed style. This part also contains the 
monument of Burton, the author of the ‘ Anatomy of 
Melancholy,’ who was a member of the college: it 
bears his bust, with a calculation of his nativity, and a 
short Latin inscription, written by himself, part of 
which is *‘ Hic jacet Democritus Junior.’ ‘There is 
also a fine statue, executed by Chantrey, of Dr. Cyril 
Jackson, Dean of Christ Church, who died in 1819. 
Several other churches, which would be considered 
interesting and remarkable in any other city, must 
be passed over in a cursory account of a town in which 
so many public structures demand notice. At present, 
we shall briefly notice the buildings which properly 
belone to the city, reserving an account of those 
which appertain to the University for a subsequent part 
of this article. 

The Town-hall is an elegant stone structure, with a 
rustic basement, above which, in the centre, is a hand- 
some pediment. It was erected about the middle of 
the last century, principally at the expense of Thoinas 
Romney, Esq., formerly high steward, and representative 
of the cityin parliament. ‘The City Bridewell was built 
in 1789, instead of the old prison called ‘* Bocardo,” 
over one of the city gates, which was taken down in 
1771. The spacious and substantial County Gaol 
occupies a part of the site of the ancient castle. It 
comprises eleven wards, with other accommodation for 
* the prisoners; and two tread-mills are employed in 
erinding corn and raising water for the use of the esta- 
blishment. On the north side of the High Street 
there is a very commodious Market-place, the entrances 
to which are secured by iron gates, while the houses in 
front are fitted up as shops. There is no theatre at 
Oxford, dramatic representations not beg now allowed 
in the city. 

Considered with reference to the elective franchise, 
Oxford enjoys the privilege of sending four members to 
parliament ; two of them represent the interests of the 
University, and two are sent by the city, which has 
possessed the privilege of having representatives in the 
parliament ever since the reign of Kdward I. The 
right of election was vested in the mayor, corporation, 
and freemen, untilthe Reform Bill came into operation. 
The number of electors was about 2,000, of whom 1739 
were polled in four days during the contest of 1830. 
The number of houses worth 10/. a year within the 
present boundary is 2,389, which therefore affords the 
number of persons eligible as electors under the altered 
franchise. In 1831 the total number of houses was 
3,936, of which 97 were unoccupied, and 51 new houses 
were building, The population at the same period 
amounted, including the inmates of the University, to 
22,624, which was an increase, in the city exclusively, 
of 4,285 persons since the year 1821. As the popula- 
tion returns were made up before the establishment of 
the present boundaries, the following statements must 
be understood to apply to the former boundary, which 
comprised a population of 20,649. Of this number, 
10,551 were males, and 10,098 females. The number 
of males above 20 years of age was 5,791, of whom 
{17 were employed in agriculture, as occupiers, or 
labourers; 5 in manufacture; 2583 in retail trade, or 
in handicraft, as masters or workmen; 1306 were 
capitalists, bankers, professional and other educated 
men; §31 labourers, not agricultural; 677 other males, 
above 20 years of age, except servants; 272 male ser- 
vants, above 20 years of age, 84 under that age; and 
1240 female servants. 

Ture Untversity.—The period at which the Univer- 
sity of Oxford was really founded, is a question in- 

Yolved in much dispute and controversy, which it would 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


1 


[Ocrossn $1, 


not be either profitable or interesting to state. What 
the Trojans, the Britons, the Romans, or the Saxons, 
may have done at Oxford, it is not now possible to 
ascertain; and as we know that no establishments 
resembling what we call universities existed in Europe, 
until the latter end of the twelfth or beginning of the 
thirteenth centuries, the whole question amounts to 
this—at what time schools began to be first established 
at Oxford? 'To answer this question properly, it would 
be necessary to find at what time monastic establish- 
ments were first founded there; because there was, in 
these early times, no education afforded separately from 
such establishments, and any place which possessed a 
number of them thus became a seat of such learning 
as then existed ; but it could not claim to be considered 
as a university more than any other place in which a 
considerable number of independent schools happened 
to be situated. We know that Oxford possessed mo- 
nasteries in the time of Alfred, and as that priuce re- 
sided much at Oxford, we may safely conclude that he 
did not fail to exert himself in encouraging the schools 
in connection with these establishments; and it is pro- 
bably thus that Alfred acquired the reputation of being 
the founder, or at least restorer of the university. No 
doubt the schools at Oxford flourished under the en- 
couragement of following monarchs; but if we are to 
confine the term university to a corporate establish- 
ment, with the privileges of holding property and con- 
ferring academic distinctions, the University of Oxford 
did not exist until long after the Conquest: if, however, 
the term may be extended to a place in which the prin- 
cipal branches of existing knowledge are taught on an 
extensive scale, then the University of Oxford may have 
existed at a much earlier period ; although it possessed 
no greater pre-eminence than naturally arose from the 
number of its monastic institutions, and the frequent 
presence of the court. Its schools might thus have 
been more numerous and better attended than those of 
many other towns, and they probably acquired some 
small privileees, which were gradually augmented, 
until the plan of the modern University was completed. 

After the Norman Conquest, Robert-D’Oyley, whom 
we have already mentioned, when he had secured the 
obedience of the town by erecting the castle, applied | 
himself to the encouragement of learning; he founded 
near the castle a college of secular canons, the students 
in which took the title of the Warden and Scholars of 
St. George within the Castle. Henry I., surnamed 
Beauclerc, from his love of learning, was educated at 
Oxford, and during his reign gave much attention to 
the studies of the place ; and is said to have granted te 
the teachers and scholars some important privileges in 
their individual capacity. In the following reign the 
study of civil law was introduced, under the patronage 
of Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury; but generally 
the state of learning was at an exceedingly low ebb 
about this period, although the number of students who 
resorted to Oxford increased so much, that the convents 
were unable to accommodate them, and therefore they 
lodged in inns or hostelries, the number of which is said 
to have amounted to two hundred. They appear to 
have resided in these houses under the control of 
wardens, who preserved order among them, and di- 
rected the course of their studies. Richard I. exerted 
himself considerably in the promotion of education 
throughout the kingdom, and as Oxford was the place 
of his birth, it shared largely in his favours: he erected 
several new schools at his own expense ; and early in 
the following reign Oxford had attained to such a pros- 
perous state, that the number of students amounted to 
three thousand. 

But this flourishing state of things underwent a 
serious interruption in 1209, when, in consequence of 
some unhappy disputes between the students and the 








































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townsmen, the former not only forsook the place for 
other seats of learning, but obtained from the Pope an 
interdict ag~ainst the town, and against all persons who 
should settle in it for the purposes of teaching. ‘These 
measures effectually humbled the inhabitants, who ap- 
peared as suppliants before the Pope’s legate: absolu- 
tion was eranted them on conditions highly favourable 
to the scholars, who then returned to Oxford. Inthe 
vear 1229 a transaction of a very, similar description 
happened at Paris; and when, according to the prece- 
dent which had been given a few years before, the 
teachers and scholars withdrew from the city, the king 
of England (Henry III.) invited them to.settle at Ox- 
ford. . About a thousand accepted the invitation; and 
they are said to have introduced a course of conduct and 
a disposition to interference in political affairs, which 
reminds one of the ‘“* London ’Prentices” of a subse- 
quent period, and the scholars in some of the German 
universities at the present day. The history of the 
University is in consequence full of broils, chiefly 
between the students and townsmen, instances of 
which it is only necessary to mention when productive 
of any important result. ‘The reign of Henry III. 
forms an important era in the annals of Oxford ; in 
its beginning several important privileges had been 
acquired, and towards its close a_ taste arose for 
building and endowing colleges, so that in this reign 
the establishments now combined under the name of 
University may be considered to have taken something 
of the form they at present bear. University College 
was tounded, or, as some say, restored, by William of 
Durham, Rector of Bishop- Wearmouth, in the year 
1232; and it is regarded as the most ancient of the 
collegiate establishments, although Baliol College ap- 
pears to have been the first that was regularly endowed, 
and Merton College the first on which a charter of in- 


corporation was bestowed. The ultimate extension of 
such endowments gradually withdrew the students from 
that connexion with the town’s-people, which had been 
productive of so many broils between them. ‘Towards 
the latter end of Henry’s reien, the existence of the 
university was threatened by a violent schism, which 
divided its members into two factions, that of the north 
and that of the south, according to the part of England 
of which they happened to be natives. The more quiet 
members of both Oxford and Cambridge were tired out 
by such intestine broils, and in 1260 they seceded from 
their respective universities, and formed a new seminary 
at Northampton, by the king’s permission; but they 
were a few years afterwards ordered to break up their 
establishment and return to the places from which they 
had withdrawn. 

idward II. granted many additional privileges to 
the University; but the peace of the institution was 
srievously disturbed during this reign by the claim of 
the preaching friars to confer dewrees independently 
of the University ; this claim occasioned a violent con- 
test between the parties, which terminated in favour of 
the University. In the same reign lectures on the He- 
brew language were first instituted. The original lec- 
turer, John de Bristol, a converted Jew, was a man of 
unusual science and erudition for that age, and his lec- 
tures Were received with much approbation. 

Edward III., who had been educated at Oxford, was 
a great friend to the University. He was very liberal 
in his @rants, and, while he extended the authority of 
the superior officers, he gave increased consequence and 
security to the scholars. He took strong measures to 
root out the animosity between the factions of the north 
and south: to what extent this was effected we do not 
know, but the University soon betook itself to the 
doctrinal question between the ‘ Nominalists” and 


422 


“ Realists,’ and warmly embarked in the dispute 
between the respective champions—Duns Seotus, the 
“ Subtle,” and Ockham, the ‘ Invineible Doetor.” 
In this reign (February 10, 1854) 63 students were 
killed in a quarrel with the townsmen. ‘The mayor of 
the city and sheriff of the county were proseeuted and 
fined on aecount of this riot; and, in eommemoration 
of it, the mayor and 62 of the townsmen were obliged 
to attend at St. Mary’s Church on every anniversary of 
the day, and, after prayers, to pay each a silver penny 
to the proetors of the University at the altar. This 
eustom was kept up until 1825, when the claim was 
relinquished. In the following reign (Richard If.) 
Dr. John Wiekliffe, the warden of Canterbury College, 
read at Oxford his leetures on divinity, whieh oceasioned 
a strong sensation at the time, and afterwards produced 
very important results. ~During the thirteenth and four- 
teenth eenturies, seven endowed colleges‘were founded 
at Oxford, besides which there were more than 200 
private halls, or hostelries, for the students. Never- 
theless, at the latter end of this period, and subsequently, 
the number of students greatly deelmed, and many of 
these buildings were let for purposes very different from 
their original destination. Under the reigns of the 
York dynasty the University underwent a partial re- 
vival of prosperity, although it did not perfeetly reeover 
until the entire eessation of intestine and foreign war 
under the pacifie reign of Henry VII. In that reign 
Krasmus repaired to Oxford for the purpose of teaching 
the Greek language, and had to eneounter many and 
strone prejudices, which existed against the study in the 
minds of the great body of the seholars and of several 
leading men in the University. ‘The former associated 
themselves, under the name of ‘ Trojans,” against the 
new knowledge and its teacher; and the latter - de- 
livered leetures in the schools against Erasmus and his 
Greek. ‘The University prospered ereatly in the reign 
of Henry VIII. In the early part of the reign, Car- 
dinal Wolsey proved himself a most munifieent patron 
of the University, and of learning in general. He 
founded seven leetures for theology, civil law, physie, 
philosophy, mathematics,.Greek, and rhetorie, and ap- 
poimted as lecturers men of high distinction in these 
several branches of learning. ‘The opposition to Greek 
was subdued ehiefly through his exertions, and he in 
some measure sueceeded in introducing a taste for 
better and more profitable things than those whieh had, 
in former times, passed under the name of learning. 
Concerning his foundation of Christ-Chureh College we 
shall have another oecasion to speak. ‘he University 
seems to have seasonably coneiliated the favour of 
Henry VIII., who had, in a way, a taste for learning, 
by pronouncing an opinion favourable to his divorce 
from Catherine of Arragon, and to his assumption of 
the supremacy in the ehurch; but the aequiescence of 
the University in the views of the king terminated, 
when it was perceived that he designed to use his 
supremacy for purposes which had not been originally 
foreseen. 

Oxford suffered much, as a seat of learning, in the 
conflict of opinions and the alternate ascendeney of 
opposite parties, which continued until the Protestant 
domimation became firmly established under Elizabeth. 
Yn the reign of that princess, the obligation, on all who 
purposed to enter into holy orders, of subseribing to the 
articles of the Estabhshed Chureh was rigidly enforced ; 
and as many persons at the University were friendly to 
the puritanical doctrines, this circumstance formed the 
principal souree of disturbance to the quiet of Oxford at 
that period. In the reign of James 1. the University 
first acquired the privilege of sending two members to 
parliament; the doetrinal disputes of the former reign 
were continued, and operated injuriously on the interests 
of actual learning. In the next reign Arcabishop 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[OcToBER 31, 


Laud, who was Chancellor of the University, proeured 
for it, from the king, a new eharter, by which its former 
privileges were explained and eonfirmed, and new ones 
added ; and the statutes of the University, after having 
been revised and enlarged under the authority of the 
heads of eolleges, reeeived the royal sanetion. ‘These 
and other favours Oxford subsequently repaid by the 
most devoted and attached loyalty to the king during 
the civil war, and by great but useless saerifices in his 
cause. In eonsequence of this, many of the heads of 
houses and professors were expelled by the commissioners 
afterwards appointed by parliament ‘to reform the dis- 
cipline and correet the doetrines” of the University, and 
Presbyterians and Independents were appointed ih their 
plaees. On the restoration of Charles II., the intruders 
were, in their turn, compelled to give place to those 
whom they had superseded, or to others of similar 
prineiples. ‘The principal event in the history of Ox- 
ford, during the reign of James If., was its steady re- 
sistanee to an attempted infraetion of its privileges. 
The presidency of Magdalen College beeoming vacant 
soon after this prince ascended the throne, he sent to the 
Iellows an order direeting them to elect one Farmer, a 
Roman Catholic, of low character. The Fellows, how- 
ever, neglected the mandate, and eleeted Dr. Hough 
for president ; and as they persisted in supporting the 
objeet of their choice, even when the king had changed 
his nomination in favour of Parker, the Bishop of Ox-- 
ford, James proceeded thither in person, and , finding: 
that even his presenee could not influenee the decision 
of the refractory Fellows, he expelled the whole- of 
them, except two, from the College. ‘This measure 
produced a strong semsation in the eountry; and when 
afterwards the king beeame alarmed by the preparations 
of the Prince of Orange, one of the first measures he 
took, in the vain hope of recovering the eonfidenee of 
his Protestant subjeets, was to reinstate the expelled 
Iellows of Magdalen. Sinee the Revolution no eir- 
cumstance of mueh interest has oceurred in the history 
of the University of Oxford. It has gone on inereasing 
in wealth and prosperity to the present day; and if it 
be true that it has retained traces of its origin “in a 
dark age of false and barbarous seience,” and has lone 
persisted in giving primary importance to obsolete and 
useless studies, to the comparative exelusion of those 
which the improved state of seience has rendered 
necessary, and wluch the eircumstanees and prospects 
of the age have imperatively demanded, it is also true 
that the system of education at Oxford has undergone 
such important modifications, that although the institu- 
tion eannot be said to take that important part which 
it night in preceding, leading, and directing the spirit 
of the age, neither ean it now be eharacterized as 
peeuliarly the stronghold of exploded prejudices and 
the superstitions of aneient learning. 

It now remains to mention the prineipal public 
buildings belonging to the University, as distinguished 
from those whieh are the property of partieular col- 
leges. 

Schools.—Public schools were first erected about the 
eommeneement of the fifteenth eenvury, by Thomas 
Hokenorton, abbot of Ouseney, and consisted of ten 
apartments allotted to different. branehes of education. 
To these a divinity school was added in the year 1427, 
ehiefly through the liberality of Humphrey, Duke of 
Gloucester. The latter still remains, and affords a 
curious speeimen of arehiteeture; but all the others 
were demolished in the beginning of the seventeenth 
century, when the present sehools were erected, which, 
with the Bodleian Library, form a quadrangle of about 
[70 feet in length. Over the gateway there is a lofty 
tower, fantastically arranged in compartments, exhi- 
biting an imitation of the five orders of classie archi- 
teeture, At the upper part of this tower there is a 












sione statue of James I. in a sitting pasture, presenting 
a copy of his own works to fame with his right hand, 
and delivering another copy to the University of Oxford 
with his left. The whole quadrangle is now — 
stories high, two of which are used as ‘ schools,” i 

which the public professors read their lectures in the 
different sciences, and in which the candidates for 
degrees undergo their examination. The moral phijo- 
sophy lecture-room contains a collection of statues, 
busts, and marbles, the @ift of the Countess of Pomfret ; 

and in an apartment on the north side of the schools 
are arranged the Arundelian marbles, together with 
many other monuments of Grecian antiquity collected 
by Selden, Wheeler, and others, and presented or be- 
queathed to the University. 

The Bodleian Library—This library was founded 
by Sir Thomas Bodley, at the close of the sixteenth 
century, on the remains of one established by Hum- 
phrey, Duke of Gloucester, which had been divested 
of all its valuable books and illuminated MSS. by the 
commissioners of Edward VI. The library originally 
consisted of three extensive rooms united, forming the 
ficure of a Roman H. ‘To these several other rooms 
have been added: the first contains the valuable ‘col- 
lection of topographical books and manuscripts be- 
queathed to the University, in 1799, by Mr. Gough, 
another is appropriated to foreign, and a third to 
domestic periodical literature. Below the library there 
is also an apartment, called the Auclartum, for the 
reception of the choicest manuscripts, early-printed 
books, &c. In an adjoining room there is a fine col- 
lection of Oriental manuscripts, and beyond this are 
deposited the miscellaneous manuscripts of Archbishop 
Liaud and other benefactors. This library contains 
pethaps the most valuable collection of books and 
manuscripts in Europe, as the donations in aid of Sir 
Thomas Bodley’s contribution have been exceedingly 
liberal ; it besides receives continual increase by dona- 
tions, by copies of every work printed in this country, 
as well as by books purchased from the fund left by 
the founder, assisted by fees received at matricula- 
tions, and by an annual. payment from all persons who 
have the right of admission to the library. This library 
is governed by regulations drawn np by Sir Thomas 
himself, who, besides his books, left an estate to the 
University, to provide suitable salaries for the officers 
and for the repair of the buildings. All the members 
of the University who have taken a degree are ad- 
mitted to study in the library ; but no books are allowed 
to be taken from it. 
| Lhe Theatre.—This fine edifice, in which the prin- 
cipal public meetings of the University are held, was 
built at the charge of Archbishop Selden, who besides 
left a fund-of 20001. to keep itin repair. It was de- 

signed and completed in five years by one of the pro- 
fessors, Sir Christopher Wren, who, “from being the 
most profound mathematician of his age, became its first 
architect ;” and who, in the plan and execution of this 
structure, gave evidence of those talents, in the latter 
capacity, which afterwards found such ample scope in 
the metropolis. The ground:plan of this theatre is 
taken from that of Marcellus at Rome; and, by an 
ingenious disposition of its parts, the architect has 
contrived to render it capable of containing nearly 4000 
persons, althongh its dimensions, SO feet by 7 70, seem al- 
together inadequate for sucha number. ‘The roof rests* 
entirely upon the side walls, without any central support. 
In consequence of the roof being in danger of falling, 
a new one was substituted m1 1802. In imitation of 
the ancient theatres, the walls of which were too far 
apart to adinit of a roof; the ceiling has the, appear- 
auce of a painted canvass strained over gilt cordage. 
The exterior elevation, on the side opposite the Divinity 
Schoo), is adorned with columns of the Corinthian 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


423 


order, and statues, in niches, of the founder and the 
Duke of Ormond. 

Clarendon Printing-house—This building was erected 
in 1711, with the profits arising’ from the sale of the 
Earl of Clarendon’s ‘ History of the Rebellion,’ the 
copyright of which was presented to the Univer sity by 
lhis Lordship’s son. Vanbrugh was the architect, and 
the style is massive, as.in all his works. ‘The structure 
is two stories high, with a Doric portico in front, and a 
statue of the noble author over the front entrance. 
Besides the offices required for printing, there is a 
handsome apartment where the Heads of ‘Colleges and 
the “ Delegates of the Press” hold their meetings. 
Lhe printing business of the University was, before the 
erection of this building, carried on in a laree room at 
the top of tne theatre, “the under part of which is still 
used as a warehouse for books printed at the Clarendon 
Press. A new University printing-office has, within 
these few years, been built at the back of the Obser- 

vatory. It is a fine building of the Corinthian order, 
the press-room in which, on the ground ‘floor, is the 
largest in the kingdom, it being 200 feet long and 28 
wide. 

Radcliffe Library.—This structure, of which our 
wood-cut affords a representation, is one of the most 
imposing architectural ornaments of Oxford. It was 
founded by Dr. Radcliffe, a distinguished physician 
of the reigns of ing William and Queen Anne, whe - 
bequeathed 40,0C0Z, “for the erection of the build- 
Ing, 100/, per annum for the purchase of books, and 
L500. per annum for the hbrarian. ‘The biulding was 
desigued and executed, between the years 1737 and 
1749, by Gibbs of Aberdeen; and some of the bes: 
artists of the time were employed on its interior embel- 
lisnments. On the exterior, a rustic basement, in ihe 
form of a double octagon; supports a cylindrical siruc- 
ture, adorned with three-quarter Corinthian columns, 
between which are windows and niches alternately. 
A balustrade surmounts the entablature, and the whole 
elevation is terminated by a fine cupola, which renders 
the building a striking object in every distant view o. 
the city. ‘he contributions to this library are few in 
comparison with those to the Bodleian, which seems to 
have wholly engrossed the munificence of the learned ; 
and the trustees have lately determined to appropriate 
the library to the reception of books in natural history 
and medicine. 

Ashmolean Musewum.—This was the first public in- 
stitution in Eneland for the reception of rarities in 
nature and art; and, im the infancy of the study ot 
natural history in this country, it possessed what was 
then considered a valuable and superior collection. It 
owes its foundation to Ehas Ashmole, who offered to 
bestow on the University all the collections in natural 
history which had been bequeathed to him by the 'Trade- 
scants, theeminent botanists and @ardeners at Lambeth, 
and to add to these his own coins, manuscripts, and 
books, provided the University would defray the expense 
of erecting a proper building for their reception. ‘The 
offer was accepted, and the present edifice raised under 
the direction of Sir Christopher Wren. It is admired 
for its just architectural proportions, although the 
situation is unfavourable, and the portico is “nearly 
obscured in the narrow passage between it and the’ - 
theatre. ‘The contributors to this museuin have been 
numerous; but in the course of a century the apart- 
ment had become much dilapidated, and the collections 
had sustained great injury and decay, when the interest 
excited by Paley’s work on Natural Theology, and by 
the physiological lectures of Professors Kidd and Buck- 
land, induced the trustees to exert themselves in pntting 
both the building and the collections ito a greatly 
improved condition. 

The Observatory —This useful aud elegant building 


4 





J By 





424 MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT. 


[Ocrozer 31, lf 


‘ 
was erected at the expense of 30,0001., defrayed by the | « dwelling-house for the Observer, apartments for obser- 


trustees of Dr. Radcliffe. It is situated at the extreme 
end of the northern suburb of the city, on a very ap- 
propriate site, with attached grounds, which were pre- 
sented to the University by the Duke of Marlborough. 
The central elevation of the edifice is upwards of 100 
feet, and its third story consists of an octangular tower, 
which affords a general representation of the Temple of 
the Winds at Athens, with sculptured representations 
of the eight winds on the entablature, and a ponderous 
earth-coloured globe at the top, supported by figures 
of Hercules and Atlas. The whole structure comprises 


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vation, for an Assistant Observer, and for lectures, and 
is supplied with a valuable set of astronomical instru- 
ments, besides a library. ‘The building was completed 
in 1786 by Mr. Wyatt. Astronomical observations 
are daily made at this Observatory when the weather 
permits ; and a fair and full copy of the registers Is 
annually deposited in the library of the Royal Society 
in London, in the Radcliffe Library, and in the Obser- 
vatory itself, in order that they may be accessible to 
men of science for improving the theory of astro- 


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*#.® The Office of the Society for the Diffusion cf Useful Knowledge 1s at 59, Lincoln’s Iun Fields,* 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 
Privted by Wituzan Crowes Duke Street, Lambeth, 













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8. 


{MONG a rude people whose country is rarely visited by 
s, any one who arrives is cheerfully received into 





end among themselves for the honour of entertaining 
the stranger. In a state of more advanced -civilization 
‘ and increased intercourse, so many sanctities come to be 
assembled around private life that the intrusion of a per- 
fect stranger is felt unpleasant, and therefore a separate 
house is: appropriated to the reception of ‘travellers, 
where every attention is paid them, and they are amply 
pplied with ‘provisions. In’the next stage, hos- 
ty provides only for the stranger what he cannot 
_ provide for himself,—shelter ;’ and, in the last stage of 
all, in which occasion for travel is diminished to the 
poor and increased to the rich, the traveller is altogether 
left to the care of persons who make it a profession to 
afford him every kind of accommodation. Some per- 
sons look upon this last state of things as illustrating 












“ The cold charities of man to man ”’ 


in a highly civilized state of life. We, however, are 
quite satisfied that the actual amount of human sym- 
pathies is greatest in the state of society that is the 
_ most highly civilized; although sympathy and charity 
cannot always be exhibited in the same forms as in a 
ruder state of life, without disturbing 






— Vos, Il. 





{ Caravanseray. ] 


the working of | 
the delicate and complicated machinery in the midst of | 





AGAZINE. 


7 





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which the civilized man lives, and of which himself, his 
life, and his labours form-a part. We proceed to 
describe the system of providing for travellers shelter, 
but’no food, as exhibited in Persia. 

The places of accommodation for travellers are pro- 
perly three :—caravanserays, khans, and menzils. The 
first are buildings designed to afford shelter to tra- 
vellers in deserts and other. situations remote from 
towns; khans* are. similar buildings in a town; and 
menzil is a word of rather indefinite application, but 
seems generally to denote the house of the persons who 
are accustomed .to -accommodate -travellers in places 
where there is no’ khan or caravanseray. The difference 


between the'two latter is not much attended to in com- 


mon conversation; nevertheless, the terms are not so 
much confounded as might be supposed from the state- 
ment: made by travellers,—that the. public buildings 
devoted to their accommodation’ are usually calied 
“khans” in Turkey ;and ‘f caravanserays” in; Persia. 
The reason is, that in Turkey there are, in fact, very 
few proper caravanserays,—that is, such buildings at 
a distance from towns,—while they abound in Persia. 

In that country there are few public buildings com- 
parable to the caravanserays, for the mosques are in 
ceneral buildings of no external beauty ; while in Turkey, 
where the mosques are often handsome structures, the 
buildings destined to accommodate travellers are ex- 

* The word “khan,” as applied to an inn, is a contraction of the 
word 4honeh, a house. 

3. P 













































426 

6 
ceedingly mean. In our present paper we confine our- 
selves exclusively to caravanserays. 

In Persia they are all constructed on essentially the 
same model, but they nevertheless differ greatly ; and 
this difference is found not only in the materials and 
workmanship of the building, but in the absence of dif- 
ferent parts possessed by the complete caravanserays. 
Our best course will be, first; to describe a perfect 
structure, and then to mention what parts are some- 
times omitted. 

The superior class of caravanserays appear very 
striking objects to the stranger who approaches them, 
whether seen in their own solitar y magnificence, or m 
contrast with the miserable hovels which sometimes 
appear in their neighbourhood. An European who 
has had no previous acquaintance with them is 
certain to take them for palaces, fortresses, or castles ; 
but this first impression becomes fainter when a 
more deliberate observation shows that no enclosed 
buildings rise above the level of the enclosing wall. 
This wall is very high, in general upwards of twenty 
feet; and it sometimes extends one hundred yards on 
each side of the square which it encloses. It is strongly 
built of fine brick-work, which is commonly based on 
stone, and is usually worked off at the upper part with 
ornamental brick-masonry. ‘Phe front is often very 
striking, particularly when the uniformity of the wall is 
broken not only by the grand entrance, but by niches 
about four feet from the ground, which are seen 1 some 
of the best caravanscrays. In the centre of the front 
wall appears the entrance, a tall and spacious archway, 
over which are sometimes chambers crowned with superb 
domes. Much pains have generally been taken with 
the open brick-work and mosaic of this part of the struc- 
ture, which altogether forms a very fine and suitable 
portico to the caravanseray. On each side, under the 
extensively-arched roof of the portico, are rooms which 
are usually occupied by the kecper and his people; anil 
some of them are used as shops, in which are exposed 


for sale such commodities as travellers most require. On. 


passing through this archway, the spectator perceives 
a sort of piazza extending on every side of the interior 
of the quadrangle, leaving a spacious area in the middle. 
On a nearer approach, it appears that each of the high 
arched recesses separated by piers is an apartment, the 
floor of which is elevated three or four feet above the 
ground, and divided from the adjoining apartments 
by walls, the ends of which form what appear like the 
piers ofa piazza. ‘These apartments, which are open in 
front, are neatly paved, and sometimes possess a fire- 
place, while compartments cut out in the depth of the 
thick wall are serviceable as cupboards. A small door 
conducts to another more private room behind this. It 
1s commonly of an oblong shape, with the chimney 
on the side opposite the door, at which the only light 
enters that the room receives. Alone: the walls, about 
three feet from the floor, there runs a line of such 
‘* topshehs,” or cupboards, as we have just mentioned, 
and which are considered indispensable in all Persian 
apartments, but vary in depth from three inches to a 
foot. The inner apartment is seldom resorted to, not 
even for sleeping, except in winter or in bad weather, or 
by women, the outermost being considered the summer 
room, and an inhabitant of the East does not covet 
privacy for the purposes of sleep, eating, or devotion. 
Yn the middle of each of the three sides of the building, 
besides that in which is the entrance, or at least of ila 
side immediately opposite the entrance, there is an apart- 
ment much more spacious and lofty than any other, in 
its actual structure, and appearing more so than it is, 
from not being divided into two rooms, as in the case 
of the common apartments. ‘These large open chambers 
seem to have no specific use. ‘They are sometimes 
occupied by families, and sometimes they are merely 


for themselves. 


a stable when the weather is uot unfavourable. 


| summer, and which is — oP ts a most refresh 


the people of the caravanserays may make a good profit 
| by the sale of provisions; but that this is generally the 





the cae onto the interio1 
which affords the entrance. : 

The vaulted chambers over the gateway, which are 
found in the oldest and best caravanserays, form the 
place of honour in such buildings. They are usnally 
occupied by the persons of most note, particularly if 
females are with them: but it sometimes happens that 
this portion of the building is set apart for the purposes 
of an oratory. ‘These chambers are more free from 
intrusion, more airy, light, and clean than the recesses 
below, which are not unfrequently rendered unpleasant 
by dirt and vermin. 

The stables of the caravanseray extend along a covered 
lane, which is between the back wall of the apartments 
and the outermost wall of the building ; and along this 
wall there extends, within the stable, another series of 
cell-like apartments, destined for the accommodation of 
muleteers, servants, and the poor people who, having 
no servants to attend to their cattle, perform that duty 
However, the Persians and their cattle 
appear to concur in eiving a decided preference to the 
spacious central court-yard, which is therefore used as 


In the centre of the court appears an elevated plat- 
form of masonry, which forms the roof of a et 
terraneous chamber called a “* zeera zemoun,”’ to, whic 
travellers retire during the great mid-day heats 
rctreat. Sometimes, however, the place of this plat- 
form is occupied by the circular or square. parapet of 
the decp well or reservoir from which the caravanser: ay 
is supplied with water, the only accommodation, besides 
lodging, which such establishments provide, and 9 which 
is sometimes provided at a great expense in situations 
where water is difficult to procure. 

At the angles of the square there are flights of steps 
which compra to the flat roof of the building, to which 
travellers like to resort in the cool of the evening; and 
very generally indeed, unless they have any 3 § 
property in the chambers below, they remove their 
beds to the roof, and spend the night there. 

Vee are not aware that amy ‘athe of a 


seal that such completeness is — tly wantin: 
Some caravanserays are destitute of ‘an stables, and i 
others the apartments do not extend on all side 
square. Many are without the domed chambers, o1 

chambers, over the gateway; many are ms the 

‘zeera zemoun,’ and in some the arcaded appearance 
of the interior is wanting ;—a range of single chambers, 
such as are the inner chambers i in the complete build- 
ing, being merely fronted by an unbroken bench of 
masonry or earth. 

As these buildings afford no other an 2. 
than the bare walls, and it is sometimes impossible 
obtain food at any price in the neighbourhood, the 
eastern traveller is obliged to encumber himself with 
bedding, culimary utensils, and some articles of provision. 
The writer has even known wood for fuel bought at one 
stage to be used at the two or three following, where it 
was well known that none could be obtained. For the 
accommodation actually afforded no price is papper) 
payable ; and although a small gratuity seems to » be 
sometimes expected from the better sort of travellers, i 
is understood not to be for the accommodation, but fo 
attentions and services rendered by the persons in 
charge of the building. It may be that, in solitary 
situations, where they have no rivalry to apprehend. 








7 





case, in such as are royal foundations, as some tra- 
os allege, 7 sealer is a inc lined to doubt ; 






oe wl bbb bight i. in the neighbourhood 
were a avert on coming to hawk their coods about 
the caravanseray, and never observed that the tra- 
veller himself was ever hindered from going to make 
his market where he liked. 
Caravauserays are doubtless of very ancient origin. 
*Sir Robert Ker Porter quotes Xenophon as informing 
us that Cyrus was the first institutor of these resting- 
places. ‘* For, observing how far a horse could well 
travel in a day, he built stables at those distances, and 
supplied them with persons to keep them in charge.” 
A very large number of those now existing would ; ap- 
pear to have been built by the great Shah Abbas : but 
it is so customary for Persians to refer to him as the 
founder of every structure for the public benefit concern- 
ing which they have no positive knowledge, that many 
more are attributed to him than he really erected. 
Many of the caravanserays are of royal origin; but we 
believe that in Persia the largest proportion have been 
built by wealthy individuals, either to perpetuate their 
names, or as acts of charity acceptable to God, and 
which will be abundantly recompensed in another state 
of existence. ‘They are either built in such a manner as 
to be supposed to need no repair, or there are lands, or 
shops, or houses, assigned by the builder for the purpose, 
or it is left to the publ spirit or clarity of others to 
make the repairs. In general, however, unless the 
founder has’ provided for their being kept in a state 
of repair, they are allowed to fall into decay ; because 
such persons as can afford it prefer to glorify their own 
names by building a new caravanseray, rather than to 
benefit the public | by repairing several old ones. How- 
ever, when strongly built, they lone remain without 
visible decay ; and under the pure and dry atmosphere 
of Persia retain for centuries the freshness of new 
buildings, 


GAS.—No. II. 
{Continued from No, 159.) 


ManuFacture or Gas. 


Most persons have seen the experiment of making gas 
in a tobacco-pipe, by filling the bowl with coal, ‘stop- 
ping it with a bit of clay, and putting it into the fire : 
in a few moments a smoke will be seen to come out of 
the end of the pipe, which, if a candle be applied, will 
take fire, and continue to burn for some minutes. 
This smoke i is gas, and an extension of the process con- 
stitutes a gas apparatus. Instead of 
the pipe-bowl an iron retort is used, 
and an iron tube leading from it re- 
presents the stem of the tobacco-pipe. 
The first retort used by Mr. Murdoch 
was, in shape, not much unlike the 
bowl of the tobacco-pipe; it was 
cylindrical, and placed in an upright 
position, with a pipe leading: from it 
_ to carry off the eas when formed. It held about fifteen 
pounds of coal, which was put in at the top; the 
cover was then Perened down, and the gas driven out 
through the small pipe at the side. But when the eas 
is made, there remains a laree mass of coke in the 
cylinder, of greater bulk than the coal first put in, 
2 must be removed before more gas can be ob- 
ed. ‘The getting out of this coke was found to be 
a very troublesome operation with the retort upright. 
Mr. Murdoch in consequence employed the same 
retorts placed horizontally, or lying down on their 
sides ; in this position it was easy to rake out the coke, 
though some difficulty was found in putting in the coal, 
which was afterwards cbviated by using a long semi- 











THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 427 


cylindrical shovel. The horizontal retort succeeded 
perfectly ; many contrivances have since been adopted, 
but none have been found to succeed so well, though 
the cylindrical form has been somewhat modified. 
About 1804, an attempt was made 

to produce a retort that should be : : 
filled and emptied with equal ease ; ec / 


the form shown in the figure was | 






used, as being well adapted for the 
purpose: the coal was put in at the 
top, «, the gas escaped through J 
the pipe, c, and the coke was raked 4 
out at b, The object was answered; r 
but the stopping of retorts is always a troublesome 
operation, from the necessity of keeping the cover air- 
tight, and, with all the care employed, gas will occa- 
sionally escape. In these retorts the inconvenience was 
doubled, and the plan was in consequence abandoned. 
So great, however, was the convenience of the upright 
position for putting in the coal, that a 
cylinder was erected in this way at the 
establishment of Mr. Lee of Manchester, 
mentioned in a former Number, page 
o74: this cylinder was of greater 
size than any before used, holding 
fifteen hundred-weicht of coals ; and, to 
eet over the difficulty of extracting the 
coke, an instrument called a gerappler 
was used, consisting of a basket or grating 
of iron fitting into the bottom of the retort, in which it 
was placed previous to putting in the coal : the grating 
is suspended by iron chains, and drawn out with the 
coke by meaus of a crane as soon as the distillation is 
completed. ‘This retort produced from 330 to 360 feet 
of gas for every hundred-weight of coal emploved: the 
production was rapid at first, but towards the end of 
the operation it proceeded very slowly, because the coal 
first acted upon by the fire soon became coke, and 
formed a solid crust around the remaining coal, pro- 
tecting it from the action of the fire, and checking its 
decomposition. A great heat and consequent con- 
sumption of fuel was therefore necessary to extract all 
the gas contained in coal by this large retort: and as it 
was ascertained by many experiments that where the 
production of gas was rapid its quality was better, and 
the quantity from the same measure of coal ¢reater than 
when obtained slowly, it became evident that the pre- 
ferable mode was to have the retort as small as conve- 
nient ; but:as a limit on this side was necessary, In con- 
sequence of-the expense of frequently filling and empty- 
ine when very small, it was:found, upon the whole, 
most convenient to use none smaller than sufficient to 
hold two bushels of coal. In order to have : 
the coal as quickly acted upon as practica- (# . 
ble, other forms were introduced; the cir- 
cular cylinder was flattened to an oval, a, 
made square, b, flattened at the bottom, 


c, or doubly curved, d, as shown in the R. 
sections here given. In all these retorts 





the coal lies less in a mass than in the cir- 

cular form, and is'therefore more rapidly 
decomposed. ‘The third form, called the 
“T-shaped retort,” is now very generally used, though 
the cylinder still: keeps its place in many establishments. 
A considerable practical advantage has resulted from 
the employment of these flattened retorts,—to such an 
extent that a hundred-weight of-coal is found to produce 
only 370 feet of gas ina : perfect cylinder, while in the 
D-shaped or oval forms from 450 to 500 feet may be 
obtained from an equal quantity. 

Whatever retorts are used, they are placed horizontally 
in ovens, in ¢roups of thifee five, or seven in eacli oven, 
according to the magnitude of the works. ‘The mouth 
of each retort stands out of the oven, oar ad the coal 


428 


has been introduced, a lid, or cover, is screwed on, well 
luted with mortar, to make 
it air-tight. Just behind the 
mouth a pipe is fitted, «a, 
leading upwards, and then 
turning down witha sudden 
bend, 6, when it dips into a 
much larger pipe called the 
“hydraulic main,” c. ‘The 


we 
aT ae 


of the retort-house, just 
above the line of ovens, 1 
an horizontal direction, and 
is generally half-full of tar 
and water, which are pro- 
duced with the gas. The 
pipe from the retort dips a 
few inches into the tar and 
water, and its mouth is thus closed against the return 
of was, which might otherwise take place when the 
supply grew slack and the retort cool. ‘The fuel used 
in heating the retorts is principally the coke produced 
in @as-making. The tar also is sometimes mixed with 
ashes, and burned as fuel. 

In the engraving in the next page, whicli is a section of 
one of the principal establishments in London, showing 
the internal arrangements in their most complete state, 
the retorts are placed in groups of five in each oven. 
A pipe is seen leading from each retort to some height 
above the hydraulic main, which is the great tube 
running across the whole of the retort-house, only half 
of which is shown in the engraving. ‘The works being 
viewed in front, the dip of the pipe into the main cannot 
be seen. | 

But the gas produced by the tobacco-pipe or by 
the retorts is far from being the fine and invisible 
air used in lighting the shops and streets of London: 
it is a thick, oily smoke, of disagreeable smell, which 
requires much purification before it is fit for use. 
Oil, water, tar, and various gases are produced with 
coal-gas, and must be separated. In the early days 
of gas-making it was found an easy matter to get 
rid of the water, oil, and tar. Nothing more was ne- 
cessary than to pass the gas through water, and to allow 
it a sufficient time to repose, when all these impurities 
would be deposited of themselves. This part of the 
7S operation was performed 
in the early apparatus 
by admitting the gras 
into a square vessel, 
or cistern, filled with 
water and divided with 

| shelves, as in this figure. 

=) ny The gas entered the cis- 
s—=—sS\ tern at the pipe marked 
¢ a, and was compelled 

“by the shelves or parti- 
tions to traverse the water several times in the direction 
represented by the arrows, in which course it was well 
washed ; the cleansed gas came out at the pipe 6, and 
the accumulated impurities, which were deposited at 
the bottom of the vessel, were drawn off at the stop- 
cock ec. 

This part of the apparatus was called the “* condenser,” 
because the gas, which entered it in a heated and rare- 
fied state as it left the retorts, was rendered cool and 
dense as it passed through. The condenser now 
usually consists of a succession of iron tubes, bent as 
in the figure, through which the gas passes as it leaves 
the hydraulic main. At each lower bend a pipe, or 
syphon, a, a, a, is fixed, through which the deposited 
tur, &c., is drawn off; and sometimes the condenser 
is surrounded with cold water, to cause a more rapid 
deposition. 












THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


main runs through the whole 


air we breathe is said to be sufficient to cause death: in 






















Ae 
_ ~ ‘ 

a a 
But the mixture of the various gases which render 
coal-gas impure was, for a long time, a cause of consider- 
able embarrassment, because they did not form a visible 
impurity, like the oil and tar, and were more intimately 
mixed up with the coal-gas than either of those sub- 
stances. ‘They were at the same time more detrimental 
to the use of was than either oil or tar; for by their ad- 
mixture not only was the gas rendered less capable of 
affording light, but one of those gases, and that which 
is produced in the greatest quantity, was the cause of 
a very nauseous smell, and at the same time so detri- 
mental to health, that a mixture of one tenth part in the 


very small proportions it produces intolerable head-ache. 
This was the sulphuretted hydrogen, a chemical com- 
pound of hydrogen (which is a principal constituent of 
water) and sulphur, or brimstone. This gas is produced 
from the sulphureous substances contained more or less 
in all coal, the chief of which is the pyrites, or yellow 
leaves; often found interspersed in coal, and mistaken by 
the ignorant for gold: the sulphur contained in pyrites 
combines with the hydrogen evolved from the coal, and 
thus produces the offensive gas. The quantity of this 
cas formed varies exceedingly in different kinds of coal, 
but is always produced more or less, and a knowledge 
of chemistry not possessed by the first gas-makers 
was necessary to get rid of it. Their only means ap- 
pear to have been to choose such coal as produced the 
smallest proportion of the noxious gas, and to wash the 
gas with water as much as possible, and, in some cases, 
to pass it through hot iron tubes. ‘These means 
effected very little; a substance was wanted which 
should possess an affinity for sulphuretted hydrogen, 
without at the same time affecting coal-gas. ‘This sub- 
stance is lime, which every experienced chemist had 
long known would have the effect of abstracting sulphu- 
retted hydrogen from such a combination. ‘The very 
mode of applying the lime which is now practised was 
suggested by Dr. Henry, of Manchester, as early as 1808, 
The manner of applying the lime was to mix it with 
water into a semi-fluid mass, which was called the 
‘* cream of lime ;” through this mixture the impure eas 
was driven; the lime exerted its attractive influence on 
the sulphuretted hydrogen, and the coal-gas passed out 
pure. To prevent the lime from falling to the bottom 
of the vessel, an agitator was introduced, which kept 

turning round and stirring up the thick mass, which it 

retained in an uniform state. This plan was found to 


answer perfectly well, and to this day no better means 
have been discovered. Several of these purifiers are 
employed in large works, throngh all of which the gas 
passes in succession before it is quite pure. ‘The follow- 
ing sketch will show how this is effected in the best 
establishments :— 








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[The Gasometers.] 





THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 429 


A30 


all (led with the half-fluid lime. The impure gas is 
erst forced into the lowest vessel A, through the pipe a, 
by which it 1s conveyed under the shelf d, and spread 
through the lower half of the vessel, after which it 
escapes through small holes in the shelf to the upper 
part. All this time the creain of lime has been kept in 
constant motion by the agitator e, which is continually 
turned round, either by a steam-cngine or some other 
moving power, and the gas is of course kept as much 
in coutact with it as practicable. When the gas escapes 
from the vessel A by the pipe 4, it enters the vessel B, 
where it undergoes precisely the same process as in the 
vessel A, and is still further purified; but lest any 


small remains of impurity should still exist, it 1s after- | 


wards passed by the pipe c through the third vessel C, 
from whence it issues quite pure. This effect, how- 
ever, is not produced, unless the lime be changed 
from time to time, becausc a certain quantity of lime 
is able to take up only a certain proportion of sulphu- 
retted hydrogen, and that quantity being taken up, 
any future proportion of impure gas will pass out in 
the state in which it entered. In the present apparatus, 
the change of lime is almost constantly colg On. 
The stuff is mixed in a vessel above the purifier C, into 
which it descends by its own weight through a pipe 
not seen in the figure; from C it flows into B, from 
B to A, and from A to a reservoir, where it 1s retained 
until otherwise disposed of. ‘The cream is in its pure 
state when it enters the vessel C, and as the gas is in an 
almost pure state when it reaches the same vessel, the 
cream flows into B not much altered. In this vessel 
it loses much of its purifying power, and in A it Is 
retained until it is quite saturated. By this ingenious 
arrangement the lime is rendered useful to the last, the 
eas always leaves it in its most effective state, and 1s 
consequently less Hable to carry off any impurity. ‘To 
judge of the purity of the gas, the most usual way is to 


wet a white card with a solution of sugar of lead, and} 


to expose the card to a jet of the gas to be examined. 
It is a property of sulphurctted hydrogen to form with 
lead an insoluble dark-coloured compound ; if, there- 
fore, any of this noxious gas be present in the coal-gas, 
it will form this compound by combining with the lead 
upon the card, and produce a brown spot. When this 
is the case, fresh lime is placed in the purifiers, and 
the effete saturated stuff drawn off*. 

In the principal engraving, the purifiers and con- 
densers are shown in the second portion, which is 
divided from the first and third for want of room, 
although in fact all three portions form but one line. 
The gas is brought to the condenser on the right by a 
continuation of the hydraulic main passing behind the 
purifiers, and of course invisible in the figure. The 
tube leading from the condensers to the lowest punfier 
is seen, as well as those which convcy the gas and lime 
from one purifier to the other. ‘The vessel in which the 
‘“ cream” is mixed appears, in the first division, just 
behind the hydraulic main. The pipe which conveys 
the purified gas runs all across the second portion of 
the engraving to the gasometers in the third division, 
the construction and use of which will be explained in 
a subsequent Number. 

The saturated lime has a very nauseous smell, and 
was for some years a cause of great annoyance to the 
neighbourheed of gas-works. When thrown away to 
evaporate in cess-pools, or to run to the river through 
the common sewers, the surrounding atmosphere was 
polluted with the noisome stench, or the water poisoned 
for many miles down the river. Legislative inter- 


* That the coal-gas may leave the purifiers as free from ad- 
mixture ag possible, the test is usually applied to the vessel marked 
B; and although, from the efficiency of the test, the impurity cannot 


amount to sz,4aq part, the whole of the gas, after this, passes through | pei 
| Saxons had one, and that it suffered much, if it were — 


the third purifier filled with pure lime, , 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





ference corrected this nuisance. The exposure of the 
sulphuretted lime was prohibited, and it is now a usual 
practice to evaporate the water in reservoirs under the 
heated retorts, and to use the lime as a mortar or 
cement to fasten on the stoppers of the retorts, when 
filled with coal, so as to prevent the escape of the gas. 

The proportion of sulphuretted hydrogen gas varies 
with the quality of the coal employed, and the quantity of 
lime required to purify a given quantity of coal-gas will, 
of course, vary accordingly. It is stated that the most 
impure gas may be purified by a quantity of lime equal 
in weight to a tenth of the coal from which it was pro- 
duced, while for better coals one-third of that quantity 
will be sufficient. 

) (To be continued. 





Houses in Otaheite—The houses are mostly built along 
the sea-shore, without the least regard to regularity or the 
formation of a town; indeed, intercourse with foreigners is 
not sufficiently extensive to point out the necessity of the 
latter. I was not a little surprised that they had gained no 
idea of comfort in their dwellings,—not attempting to make 
the slightest alteration in the style, although they have the 
example of Europeans before their eyes. Their huts are 
constructed of bamboos, placed perpendicularly, at the dis- 
tance of one and a half or two inches from one another, and 

ve feet in height, over which a roof is erected and thatched 
with the leaves of the cocoa-nut or palm-tree. _ These huts 
seldom possess any other furniture than a few wooden bowls 
and a sort of platter, on which the natives beat up the bread- 
fruit. One house commonly serves more than one family, 
although it is not divided into apartments: in some a bed- 
stead may be seen, fixed in the ground, and which, instead 
of sacking, has a sort of netting, worked with line made of 
the poorow. The floors are strewed with dried grass; and, 
as the people are not careful to change it often, cleanliness 
is not a very prominent feature in their habitations.—J/s. 
Journal of a Voyage. 





SILVER COINS FOUND AT TUTBURY, IN 
STAFFORDSHIRE, IN JUNE, 1831. 


WHoeEver has travelled from Derby to Uttoxeter must 
have observed, when he has got about nine miles on his 
road, some fragments of ruins on a commanding emi- 
nence, at the distance of about a mile and a half on his 
left hand. Those fragments are the sole remains of the 
once regal castle of Tutbury, the favourite residence of 
the Earls and Dukes of Lancaster, the prison of the 
beauteous but ill-fated Queen of Scotland and the scene 
of many historical events. 

The hill on which the castle stands is an immense 
rock of alabaster, or of what is more properly denomi- 
nated gypsum. Its height gives it the advantage of a 
very extensive prospect over a country comparatively 
flat, and which is only bounded by the distant moun- 
tains of the Peak of Derbyshire. ‘Towards its own 
county, that of Stafford, the view is confined by the 
rising grounds of what once was Needwood Forest, 
and which at a distance still retain their former cha- 
racter, being well covered with trees, which form a 
pleasing back-ground to the scene. At the foot of this 
rock runs the river Dove,—here the boundary of Staf- 
fordshire and Derbyshire,—and over it is a fine stone 
bridge of five arches, newly erected, instead of the old 
narrow inconvenient one, which, till within these few 
years, was the only road to the town. 

To give a succinct history of Tutbury Castle would 
be only to present, in another form, a great part of the 
history of the nation, so much has it been mixed up 
with the most reiarkable events of many reigns. 
Whether the aborigines or the Romans had or had not 
a castle here is what no antiquarian will venture to 
decide, but all agree that during the Heptarchy the 








not totally destroyed, hy the Danes. After the Con- 
quest, ‘Tutbury became the property of Henry de Fer- 
rarius, a Norman, who rebuilt the castle, and made it 
much more capacious than it had been before, and in 
its immediate neighbourhood founded a priory, the only 
remains of which is the present parish-church, which, 
in its great west door, presents one of the most rich 
and beautiful specimens of the architecture of the latter 
part of the eleventh century now to be met with in 
Britain. + 3 

It is the general lot of great possessions frequently 
to change their owners: thus we find that Tutbury was 
forfeited, among his other possessions, by Robert de 
Ferrers, Earl of Derby, in the year 1269, and was 
eiven by Edward I. to his brother Edmund, Earl of 
Lancaster, who dying in 1297, it became tle property 
of his son Thomas, the second Earl of Lancaster, who 
repaired, beautified, and improved the castle, making 
it in a great measure his general residence. 

Lhe Earl of Lancaster, however, in a short time 
found himself embroiled with the next sovereign, 
Edward If. Disgusted with the manner in which 
Edward suffered himself to pe guided by his successive 
favourites, Gaveston, and the two Spensers, and pitying 
the people who were the victims cf his rapacity, and 
partly instigated by his own private wrongs, he, at the 
head of a number of barons, first remonstrated with, 
and afterwards took up arms against, his sovereien. 
A civil war was begun which was vigorously carried on 
on both sides. The king had advanced into the heart 
of the kingdom while the earl was in the north, and 
before the latter could stop its progress, the royal army 
had penetrated the country, and advanced nearly to 
Burton in Staffordshire. Here however the earl ar- 
rived before the king, and, taking possession of the 
town, determined to prevent the king from entering. 

Burton is situated on the western bank of the river 
Trent, which is here remarkably deep, and of such a 
breadth as to require a bridge of a quarter of a mile in 
length to connect it with the neighbouring: county of 
Derby, and to open a communication with the adjoining 
towns of Leicestershire. This bridge is very narrow 
and very crooked, full of angles and projections, and so 
contrived, that but few persons can pass abreast over 
it; at that time it was less commodious than at present, 
for independently of the chapels which at that period 
formed a component part of every bridge, it had a 
number of other buildings at the ends, and towards the 
middle. Thus situated it was easily guarded, and 
Earl Thomas determined to dispute the passage to the 
last extremity. On this bridge he considered his safety 
to depend, for without crossing the Trent, he knew 
that his castle of Tutbury could not be approached, 
and there was no other bridge within many miles. 
Confiding in his situation, though deserted by the 
barons who had promised him assistance, he was not a 
little surprised when part of Edward’s army attacked 
his forces in the rear, having, by means of a guide, found 
a ford about five miles above Burton, by which they 
had crossed the river, while the other part remaimed 
near the bridge, apparently with a determination of 
forcing a passage, as a feint to draw off the earl’s atten- 
tion to the real quarter of attack. The earl was now 
obliged to fly to the only refuge he had left, his appa- 
rently impregnable fortress of ‘Tutbury. 

Tutbury is only about five miles from Burton, and 
scarcely had Lancaster got into the castle with the 
remnant of his followers, when he found the royal forces 
were at the gates. To stay was not possible, to come 
out on the Staffordshire side impracticable, and the 
river Dove, at that time scarcely fordable, and over 
which there was not then any bridge, appeared com- 
pletely to cut him off trom entering Derbyshire, and 
passing through that county to his castle of Pontefract 





‘ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


431 


in Yorkshire. This, however, he was under the neces- 
sity of attempting, and after leaving his bageace and 
military chest in the care of his treasurer Leicester, 
with directions to convey them in safety as soon as pos- 
sible to Pontefract, he and his followers made the 
attempt, and, in spite of the high floods, succeeded. 
much was not the fortune of the military chest, the 
sole treasury of the unfortunate earl, the contents of 
which he had been long amassing to pay his troops and 
discharge the current expenses of the war. Leicester 
did his utmost to preserve it, but in the confusion of 
crossing the river in the dark, with a euard which was as 
if were panic-struck, the chest with all its contents was 
lost in the Dove, nor had the treasurer ever after an 
opportunity of returning to attempt its recovery. 

A few words will suffice to complete the history of 
the adventurous earl. He found himself deserted by 
those on whom he placed dependence, and was finally 
betrayed into the hands of his enemies, who conducted 
him to Pontefract, where, after suffering the greatest 
indignities, as is generally the case with fallen ereatness, 
his head was struck off in the latter end of March or 
beginning of April, 1322 

Of the immense sum of money thus deposited in the 
bottom of the Dove, astonishing as it may seem, no- 
thine was known or heard till the month of June, 1831. 
Two bridges had been built, a corn-mill erected, and 
subsequently a cotton-mill, weirs and dams had been 
formed, and many cuts and alterations made in the 
river, without this treasure having ever been brought 
to light: when, on the Ist of June, the proprietors of 
the cotton-mills having commenced the operation of 
deepening the river, for the purpose of giving a greater 
fall to the water from the wheel, the workmen found 
among the gravel, about threescore yards below the 
bridge, a few small pieces of silver coin, of such a kind 
as they had never seen before. 

Sir Oswald Mosley, Bart., in his recent ‘ History of 
the ‘own and Houses of Tutbury,’ as a supplement to 
the history of Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, in the former 
part of his work, gives the following account of the 
finding of these coins :— 

“* Mr. Webb, the proprietor of the cotton-mills at 
Tutbury, being desirous to obtain a greater fall for what 
is commonly termed the tail water of the wheel, which 
works the machinery of his mill, prolonged an embank- 
ment between the mill-stream and the river much far- 
ther below the bridge than it formerly extended ; and, 
as apart of his plan, it became requisite to wheel a 
considerable quantity of gravel out of the bed of the 
river, from the end of his water-course as far up as the 
new bridge. While they were engaged in this opera- 
tion, on Wednesday, the Ist of June, 1831, the work- 
men found several small pieces of silver coin about 
sixty yards below the bridge; as they proceeded up the 
river they continued to find more; these were disco- 
vered lying about half a yard below the surface of the 
oravel, apparently as if they had been washed down 
from a higher source. On the following Tuesday the 
men left their work in the expectation of finding more 
coin, and they were not disappointed, for several thou- 
sands were obtained that day; as they advanced up the 
river they became more successfii] ; and the next day, 
Wednesday, June the Sth, they discovered the grand 
deposit of coins, from whence the others had been 
washed, about thirty yards below the present bridge, 
and from four to five feet beneath the surface of the 
eravel. ‘The coims were here so abundant, that one 
hundred and fifty were turned up in a single shovelfuli 
of gravel, and nearly five thousand of them were col- 
lected by two of the individuals thus employed on that 
day ; they were sold to the by-standers at six, seven, 
eight, or eight shillings and sixpence per hundred; but 
the next day a less quantity was procured, and the 


432 


prices of them advanced accordingly. ‘The bulk of the 
coins were found in a space of about three yards square 
near the Derbyshire bank of the river. Upwards of 
three hundred individuals might nave been seen en- 
oaved in this search at one time, and the idle and in- 
quisitive were attracted from all quarters to the spot. 
Quarrels and disturbances naturally enough ensued, 
and the- interference of the neighbouring magistrates 
became necessary. At length the officers of the crown 
asserted the king’s right to all coin which might sub- 
sequently be found in the bed of the river, since the 
soil thereof belonged to his majesty in right of his 
duchy of Lancaster. A commission was issued from 
the chancellor of the duchy, prohibiting all persons, 
excepting those appointed therein, from searching, or 
authorising others to search, for coin in the river; and 
for the purpose of insuring the king’s rights, the com- 
missioners were directed to institute a further search on 
behalf of the crown, which search commenced on the 
28th of June, and was discontinued by them on the Ist 
of July, after having obtained under it upwards of 
fifteen hundred more coins, which were forwarded to 
his majesty and the chancellor of his duchy. At the 
end of this search, the excavation, from whence the 
coins were principally taken, was filled up, and a quan- 
tity of gravel spread over it for the purpose of levelling 
the bed of the river, so that any further search would 
now be quite ineffectual. ‘The total number of coins 
thus found is supposed to have been, upon the most 
moderate computation, one hundred thousand.” 

The crowds who assembled from the neighbourhood 
to hunt after this treasure were naturally very great. 
Those who found a coin had much difficulty in detach- 
ing it from the gravel in which it had become imbedded. 
Having been for such a succession of years lying amid 
the sail which once formed the bed of the stream, and 
on which the water had gradually deposited stratum 
upon stratum of sand aud gravel, the mass had become 
a hard substance, scarcely yielding in solidity to stone 
itself, in which coin upon coin appeared to form some 
of the original component parts. A representation of 


7 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





[Novemssn I, 183 


| from destruction by purchase from the finder, forms the 


vignette at the end of this article; and, to a stranger, 
may convey some little idea of the manner in which. 
the coins were deposited. ° 
The annexed engraving 1s a speci- 
men of one of the most curious and 
perfect of the coins, from which an idea 
may be formed of the nature of the rest. 
Besides a number of sterlings of the Em- 
pire, Brabant, Lorraine, and Hainault, 
and the Scotch coins of Alexander III., 
John Baliol, and Robert Bruce, there was found a com- 
plete English series of those of the first Edward, who, 
at various times, had his money struck at the follow- 
ing places, viz.:—London, York, Canterbury, Chester, 
Durham, Lincoln, Bristol, Exeter, Berwick, St. Ed- 
munds, Kingston, and Newcastle; and also of those 
he had struck at Dublin, Waterford, and Cork. ‘There 
were also found specimens of all the prelatical coins of 
Edward I. and Edward II., as of Bishops Beck, Kellar, 
and Beaumont, Bishops of Durham; some - others, 
thought to have been struck by the Abbot of St. Ed- 
munds, bearine upon them the name of “ Rob. de 
Hadley,” and a few issuing from the archiepiscopal 
see of York. Besides those enumerated, there were 
many of Henry III., both of his first. and second coin- 
age, and afew of the most early of Edward II. On 
the whole, a finer museum of early Enelish, Scotch, 
and Irish coins was never before, under any circum- 
stances, thrown open to the inspection of the antiquary 
and historian. 
_ It seems, upon the whole, rather surprising that the 
English coins found should all have been of the same 
size and value, which, with one single exception, seems 
to have been the case. This exception was a very 
beautiful coin of silver, of about the size of a half: crown, 
aud of the reigu of Edward [. Nor is it less surprising 
that, the chest should have contained no jewellery, or 
other valuable articles, one ring alone being found in 
the river, which was probably lost by some one of the 
Farl’s officers in fording. It was rudely chased, and 





a fragment of this.conglomeration, happily preserved | bore within the circle the motto “* Spreva VIVANT ” 


[ Representation of the Coins as Found at Tutbury. | 


*“.* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET. 


Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES, Duke Street, Lambeth, 








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EH PENNY MAGAZINE 


OF THE 


society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


} 67 | PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [NovemBer 8, 1834, 








THE JACA-TREE. 


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The Jaca-Tree—(Artocarpus integrifolia.) 


Tus volume on ‘Timber Trees and Fruits,’ in the | jack-fruit, or Jaca-tree (Artocarpus integrtfolia), which 
‘Library of Entertaining Knowledge,’ supplied to | grows chiefly in the main land of Asia. 


No. 41 of the ‘ Penny Magazine’. an account of the The bread-fruit is a beautiful as well as a useful tree : 


bread-fruit ; and in now presenting our readers with | the trunk rises to the height of about forty feet, and, in 
another species of the same tree, we shall recur to the | a full-grown tree, Is from a foot to fifteen inches in 
same source for such information concerning both | diameter ;-the bark is ash-coloured, full of little chinks, 
species as the former article does not supply. and covered by small knobs ; the inner bark is fibrous, 

The bread-fruit tree, originally found in the south-) and used in the manufacture of a sort of cloth; and 
eastern parts of Asia, and the islands of the Pacific, | the wood is smooth, soft, and of a yellow colour. The 
though now introduced into the tropical parts of the | branches come out in a horizontal manner, the lowest 
western continent, and the West India Islands, is one | ones about ten or twelve feet from the eround, and 
of the most interesting as well as singular productions | they become shorter and shorter as they are nearer the 
of the vegetable kingdom. ‘There are two species of | top. The leaves are divided into seven or nile lobes, 
it:—the bread-fruit, properly so called (Artocarpus | about eighteen inches or two feet Jong, and are of a 
incisa), with the leaves deeply gashed, or divided at | lively green. The tree bears male and female flowers, 


the sides, which grows chiefly in the islands ;—and the | —the males among the upper leaves, and the females 


= VoL, III, 3K 





434 


at the extremities of the twigs, When full-grown, the 
fruit 1s about nine inches long, heart-shaped, of a 
ereenish colour, and marked, with hexagonal warts, 
formed into facets. The pulp is white, partly fari- 
naceous and partly fibrous; but, when quite ripe, it 
becomes yellow and juicy. The whole tree, when in a 
oreen state, abounds with a viscid milky juice, of so 
tenacious a nature as to be drawn out in threads. 

The bread-fruit tree continues productive for about 
eight months in the year. Such is its abundance, that 
two or three trees will suffice fora man’s yearly supply, 
a store being made into a sour paste, called mahe in 
the islands, which is eaten during the unproductive 
season. When the fruit is roasted until the outside is 
charred, the pulp has a consistency not nnhke that of 
wheaten bread, and the taste is intermediate between 
that of bread and roasted chestnuts. It is said to be 
very nourishing, and is prepared in various ways. 

The timber of the bread-fruit tree, though soit, 1s 
found useful in the construction of houses and boats ; 
the male flower, dried, serves for tinder, and the juice 
answers for bird-lime and glue; the leaves for packing 
and for towels; and the inner bark, beaten together, 
makes one species of the South-sea cloth. 

The Jaca or Jack, which is represented in our wood- 
cut, grows to the same, or even to a larger, SIZ€, than 
the bread-fruit of the Society Islands; but it is neither 
so palatable nor so nutritious. ‘Though its specific 
name implies that it 1s entire-leaved, the leaves of it are 
sometimes found lobed, like those of the other. ‘The 
fruit eften weighs more than thirty pounds, and con- 
tains two hundred or three hundred seeds, each of them 
four times as large as an almond. December is the 
time when the fruit ripeus ; it is then eaten, though not 
inuch relished; and the seeds or nuts also are eaten, 
after being roasted. ‘There are many varieties of the 
Jaca-tree, some of which can hardly be distinguished 
from the seedling variety of the true bread-fruit. ‘The 
fruit, and also the part of the tree in which it 1s pro- 
duced, varies with the ave. When the tree is young 
the fruit grows from the twigs; in middle age it grows 
from the trunk; and when the tree gets old it grows 
from the roots. 





MOHAMMEDAN SCHOOLS. 


“ KNOWLEDGE 18 Power,” said one who knew in its 
fulness that power which knowledge gives; and we 
trust that it promises well and pleasantly for the future 
that this true and beantiful expression is, as a quotation, 
become hackneyed. In the same degree that knowledge 
is power, ignorance 1s weakness. Sorry are we to sa 

that even in this country striking and painfnl evidences 
of the utter weakness of ignorance are not difficult to 
find: but, when they are found, other mstances of the 
power and beauty of knowledge fail not to occur so 
soon after as to soften greatly the painfulness of the 
oeneral impression. We thus become move reconciled 
to thines as they are on the whole—more reconciled to 
the existence of ignorance, than we should be if we 
were to see the universal mind kept feeble by its weak- 
ness, aid overshadowed by its gross darkness. Jhis is 
seen in the Kast; and what the traveller sees there is 
calculated more than anything we know to impress 
upon him-—-not merely with the cool conviction of the 
understanding, but with the intensity of a feeline—how 
exceedingly pitiful and weak ignorance is; and, there- 
fore, how strong and beautiful is knowledge. Among: 
savage people this is never felt. Zhetr modes of life 
and habits of thought and feeling are so entirely diffe- 
rent, as to carry them out of that condition in which 
we regard ignorance with pain. _But the case is diffe- 
rent with the nations of the Kast. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


is estimated by the loudness of his voice and the vio- 


Dhey may be con- 





5 * -. % 4 
f sidered as civilized; they have colleges and schools ; 


they have aliterature ; they even know that knowledge ts 
power, and often eagerly seek for such as may be obtained 
which, however, is both scanty and bad. ‘This will be 
shown by an account of the mode in which instruction 
is conveyed, in the common Mohammedan schools, with 
a particular view to the art of reading, as from the 
state of that art, which is simply a minister to know- 
ledge, the general condition of knowledge itself will in | 
the present instance be easily deduced. Our statement 
will be understood to be drawn up so as to be appli- 
cable on the whole to most Mohammedan countries, 
but with an especial regard to Persia,—the Moslem 
country in which education is more valued, and there- 
fore more diffused than in any other. [t will also in- 
clude the Armeniaus, a Christian people who inhabit 
chiefly in the countries to which this statement refers, 
and who, as a people, exhibit a very strong sense of at 
least the usefulness of knowledge, and seek for it with 
an earnestness and zeal worthy of far better rewards 
than the East can give. 

If the stranger in a Moslem country in passing 
through the streets is attracted, by a noise for which 
he cannot satisfactorily account, towards the building 
in which the school is held, he will, on looking in, pro- 
bably see a long and narrow room, at one end of which 
is seated a man with a long beard*, while the sides are 
lined with little boys of yarions ages squatted upon 
their heels on the floor, which is generally covered with 
a thick mat, in addition to which those parents who 


can afford it provide their sons with a bit of carpet or 


felt in Persia, or with a cushion im Turkey, to place 
between them and the mat. Some of the elder boys 
go so far as to obtain a cushion to introduce between 
their backs and the wall, but this luxury is rather dis- 
countenanced by the masters as an encroachment on 
their own peculiar dignities. All the boys have | 
their heads covered; but they are without their shoes, 

which are left near the door, so mingled, and so similar 

in shape and colour, that it would seem difficult for 

each to find his own; but, on the breaking up, every 

one seems to slip his feet into his own shoes, withont | 
any of that individual hesitation or general confusion 
which might be expected. When the boys are learning 
their lessous or repeating them to their master, the do 
so all at once, with a lond voice and with a continual 
see-saw of the body, without which movement they seem 
to conceive it impossible that anything can be learnt. 
The scene which this affords is exceedingly ludicrous 
to an European, particularly as the zeal of the learner 





















lence of his see-saw ; and hence, when conscious of the 
approach of a person whom the master or pupils wish 
to impress with a favourable opinion of their application 
aud progress, the noise i the schools, which may pre- 
viously have sunk into a low hum, rises abruptly to the 
clamorons uproar of many voices. It seems that in 
reading all at once to the master, the elder boys, if the 
school is large, are expected to give some attention to 
the others near them. ‘The master cannot in such a 
noise distinguish the individual accuracy of each reader}; 
and his attention is therefore directed to observe that 
time is as nearly as may be kept by the voices, and, in 
some ineasure, in the motions also of the pupils. ‘This 
object seems but poorly attained ; but still the attempt 
so far succeeds, that there 1s a very sensible difference 
between the noise of the formal readine and that of 
the audible conning of the lessons. ‘The style of read- 
ine, which this system prodnces, is most unnatural; 
being as different as possible from the inartificial tone 
of conversation, It is a drawline chant, uttered in a 
very loud voice. In the East, renerally, the toné of the 


* Schoolmasters retain their beards, even when whiskers only 
are sanctioned by yeneral usage, 






pice 18 very hich, even in common conversation ; but in 

reading it is raised to screamme. A recent traveller 

relat S that some Arabs desired him to let them hear 

um read. He complied, on which they exclaimed, 

You are not reading; yeu are talking!” The fact 
however is, that, except among those of the learned 
professions, few of those who have professcdly learnt to 
read in the schools can or do exercise the acquirement 
in after life; and the few who remain actually qualified 
to read with facility, rarely do so without some stimulus, 
iucomparably stronger than would be required in this, 
or perhaps any European country. After a residence 
of several years among Mohammedan people, the writer 
does not recollect more than three instances in which 
he has seen persons quietly engaged in reading a book 
to themselves, although ail the actions of their ordinary 
life are much more exposed to public notice than can 
be well imagined in this country. 

These facts are easily explained. The want of the 
art of printing® renders books expensive articles of 
luxury in Mohammedan countries ; and this is alone suf- 
ficient to account for much that we have stated. Before 
the introduction of that art, the state of knowledge 
among the people was not more favourable in this 
country than it is in Persia now,—perhaps, indeed, 
considerably less favourable. There is also another 
less obvious Circumstance, which would have great 
influence even were manuscript books much more 
common and cheap than they are; this is, the diffi- 
culty of reading mauuscript. This difficulty should 
not be underrated. Even in this country, most edu- 
cated persons would reqnire considerable stimulus to 
induce them to go through a manuscript volume. 
those only whose duty it is to examine manuscripts, 
aug io prepare them for the press, can describe the 
tediousness of the occupation. It is not one of the 
least advantages of printing that it has tended to sim- 
plify the character employed in the preparation of 
books, and to render it uniform. This comparison very 
imperiectly illustrates our meaning; for our manu- 
scripts are far more legible to us than those of the 
Hast are to an Oriental. Among ourselves, many 
persons who can write short-hand with facility are 
unable to read it with ease; an Oriental manuscript 
is a sort of short-hand which many more persons are 
able to write than to read. ‘The words are abbreviated, 
as in short-hand, by the omission of vowels; and when 
the words are decyphered, the want of punctuation 
renders it often difficult to discover at once the meaning 
of the phrases. When to this it is added that there are 
several different styles of writing, besides the difference 
occasioned in the several manuscripts by the variety of 
individual hands and flourishes; it will be perceived 
that a person cannot read with facility without more 
practice than the state of literature and knowledge 
encourages any considerable number of students to 
Seek, or enables them to obtain. 

A stranger is very liable to be deceived in estimating 
the competency of a Mohammedan to read. A very 

large part of a common education consists in learning 
by heart a very considerable portion of the current 
literature, particularly of the Koran. He is therefore 
able to repeat by rote the most striking passages of 
almost any of the very limited number of books 
which are likely to be placed before him. He will 
turn over its leaves until he can find some passage 
with which he is acquainted, and will repeat it cor- 
rectly as if from the book; but if suddenly in- 
terrupted, he is afterwards quite unable to indicate the 
part of the page at which the interruption took place. 
) The quantity of poetical literature with which the mind 









* It is scarcely worth while to mention the feeble operations of 
fhe press at Constantinople and in Keypt as excepticns, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


435 


of a Persian is stored is perfectly amazing; and this 


lone suffices to show that books are scarce and reading 
difficult, while it also indicates what inight be expected 
from them under a better system. As it is, the list- 
ening to tales and recitations delivered by persons who 
make it a profession, occupies, in some measure, the 
Same place among Mohaininedans as reading among 
ourselves ; and any person is sure of an audience who 
sits down and professes his ability and willingness to 
afford amusement or instruction. In some places, 
indeed, there is no instruction, beyond that of reading 
and writing, to be obtained in any other manner than 
from persons who exhibit their information for the sake 
of the farthings which may be collected from the audi- 
ence at the conclusion. In some towns men ef pro- 
fessed learning are accustomed to go to the porch of 
the mosque and there begin to read, lecture, or preach 
to the people who collect around them; and it is not 
unusual for two persons to seat themselves opposite 
each other and instruct their auditors by a vellement 
dispute on any subject which they consider attractive. 
Such practices could only afford remuneration where 
there is a thirst for better, knowledge than the ordinary 
channels of instruction afford. This thirst seems more 
intense in Persia than in any other Moslem nation. 
But all other Asiatic people, known to the writer, are 
exceeded in this by the Armenians, who have been led to 
feel very strongly the practical inutility of the insteuc- 
tion which the ordinary schools afford, aud: have there- 
fore been induced to make greater efforts than any 
other people to obtain for their sons the benefit of a 
better system. For this purpose some of those who 
can afford it send their children, at a great expense, to 
a distant country, and maintain them there; while 
others anxiously eudeavour to induce persons who have 
acquired a reputation as teachers to settle among them 
and undertake the instruction of their sons. The lads 
themselves have a strong feeling on the same subject ; 
and when a little of true and quickening knowledge 
has been laid before them, they have displayed such 
docility, such patience, and such unwearied zeal, as has 
often moved the writer earnestly to hope that they 
might not much longer be shut out from the benefits 
which they have learned to value and desire. Mean- 
while it may not be amiss to mention that they are the 
only people in Mohammedan Asia who have anything 
like a printed literature. They are supplied with 
priited books from presses established at the Armenian 
mstitution of St. Lazarus at Venice, at Vienna, in 
Russia, in India, and other parts. Many of these works 
are beautiful specimens of typography; and it may 
be interesting to add that they include translations of 
several English works, such as ‘ Paradise Lost’ and 
* Robinson Crusoe.’ 

When the Mohammedans are brought into contact 
with Europeans, it is impossible for them not to feel 
how immeasurably inferior they are to the latter in 
knowledge, and in that power which knowledge gives. 
Yo diminish the difference seems hopeless to them ; 
and under the mortifying consciousness of their infe- 
riority as a people, they often endeavour to console them- 
selves by saying that it is ‘* their fate.” The Franks, 
they exclaim, have all their good things,—their know- 
ledge and their power—in this life: but they shall have 
their own hereafter when the ‘ Infidels” lie howling. 





Se?f-Lovers.—Extreme self-lovers will set a man’s house 
on fire, though it were but to roast their eggs.—Bacon. 





Wonders.—Men, till a matter be done, wonuer tnat it ca 
be done; and, as soon as 1t is done, wonder again that it 
was no sooner done.— Lacon. 


3K 2 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


THE BIRMINGHAM ORGAN. 


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A woon-cuT, with a description, of the Birmingham 
Music Hall, was furnished in No. 142 of the * Penny 
Magazine,’ and some mention was then made of the 
grand organ which occupies one end of that noble 
apartment. Before proceeding to give a more parti- 
cular account of this already celebrated, though un- 
finished instrument, it will be useful to afford materials 
for comparison, by stating a few particulars concerning 
some other principal organs, referring to No. 161 for 
an account of that at Haarlem. 

In the cathedral of Seville, in Spain, there is an 
organ with 100 stops, which comprise 5300 pipes. The 
organ at Goérlitz, in Upper Lusatia, has 82 stops, 
comprising 3270 pipes. That at St. Michael’s, in 
Hamburg, has 67 stops (not 64, as stated by Burney), 
containing nine pipes of 16 feet, and three of 32 feet, with 
four rows of keys. It was erected at the cost of 40001. 
At Weingarten, a Benedictine monastery in Suabia, 
there is an organ with 60 stops, which comprise 6666 
pipes, seven of which are 16 feet high, and three 32 
feet. Itis stated that the monks were so delighted with 
this fine instrument, that they presented the builder, 
Gabelaar, of Ulm, with 6666 florins—a florin for each 
pipe—beyond the amount of his charge. The old 
organ at York was the largest in Eneland ; ; It had 52 
stops, 3254 pipes, and three rows of keys. The largest 
organ at Rome is that in the church of St. John Late- 
ran: it has 36 stops. There is one in the cathedral at 
Ulm that has 45 stops with 3442 pipes. At Baltimore, 
in the United States, there is an organ in the cathedral 
which has 36 stops, with 2213 pipes, the heicht of 
the largest of which is 32 feet. 

It is usual, in describing an organ, to dwell particu- 
larly on the number of its stops; but, in point of fact, 
the number of the pipes is a more accurate criterion of 
the power of such instruments. Many of the organs on 


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the continent, with such an imposing number of stops, 
are in actual power greatly inferior to others of much 
humbler pretensions. To complete this comparative 
statement, we may add, that the organs at Seville, 
Goérlitz, Merseberg, Hamburg, Weingarten, and Tours, 
are all larger than that of Haarlem; and that the new 
instruments at York and Birmingham exceed them all. 
It is still a disputed point which of the two latter is the 
largest, though the question would not seem to be very 
difficult to determine : but it is admitted that the pipes 
in the Birmingham organ are a trifle larger than in that 
at York ; and from its situation in a noble room, built 
expressly for the purposes of music, and in which the 
volume of sound is not deadened, broken, or impeded 
by pillars and other obstructions, it possesses advantages 
which would enable a very ordinary instrument to 
compete, in fulness ‘of effect, with the most powerful 
cathedral organs. 

The width of the Birmingham organ is 35 feet; 
the depth 15, and the height 45. The swell- box, or 
receptacle for the pipes used for the swell only, is of 
the size of an ordinary church-organ. Although the 
instrument was employed at the late Musical Festival, 
it is still in an unfinished state: the number of pipes 
which will be placed in it cannot yet be exactly ascer-_ 
tained, but it will probably exceed that in any of the 
onner we have mentioned. ‘The largest central pipe 
is 35 feet long, and rather less than 21 inches in dia- 
nee but, of course, the sounding part of this pipe 
only extends 32 feet ‘in lene th. The foot of this pipe is. 
four feet in length, and weighs not less than 224 Ibs. 
The metal pipes of largre dimensions are made entirely 
of zinc. When the organ is finished, there will be 
about 60 real stops; but the mirture stops are not yet 
introduced. ‘There are four rows of. keys, aud one ex- 
tensive set of pedals, or foot-keys, and five commo) 


a ww ° . 


> 
1834.3 


bellows to give wind to the forest of pipes. In the 
swell-box a set of bells (carilions) has been placed, 
which appears to be a greatcr novelty than improve- 
ment; the effect produced is not good, and it would 
be well, perhaps, either to substitute larger bells or 
relinquish them altogether. By a remarkably in- 
genious mechanical contrivance, it is so arranged that 
all the various stops of the instrument may be com- 
bined on any one of the claviers, or sets of keys, by 
which the power of producing grand effects 1s almost 
infinitely extended. 

In this organ there is a rced stop, called the Posaune, 
or trombone, which all who are acquainted with the 
oreans of the continent consider to be the most power- 
ful and the richest in tone of any existing. ‘The power- 
ful volume of sound proceeding from this stop is mingled 
with a mellowness which corrects the unpleasant im- 
pression which loudness occasionally produces. The 
assistance afforded by these pipes to the voices in the 
choruses cannot easily be estimated by those who have 
not heard it. It may fairly be stated that, while the 
Posaune rendcrs the most eifectual aid in blending the 
voices into one mass, it adds at Icast fifty per cent. to 
their power. ‘This stop alone is sufficient to render the 
organ remarkable; and much of the superiority of the 
choral effects at the Birmingham Festival, above those 
produced at the recent commemoration in Westminster 
Abbey, is attributed to the power of this splendid stop. 

The builder of this grand instrument is Mr. Hill, of 
London. The requisite funds were raised by subscrip- 
tion, and the expense is calculated at the very moderate 
sum of 2,000/., which seems to indicate that the artist 
has rather sought reputation than pecuniary profit in 
his undertaking. The case of the instrument is from a 
desien by Mr. Mackenzie, and perfectly harmonizes 
with the architectural style of the building in which it 
is placed. It is calculated that the timber alone em- 
ployed in the construction of this organ would weigh 
between twenty and thirty tons, while the metal and 
other materials of the structure would raise the weight 
of the whole to at least forty tons. 





DIFFICULTY OF SUPPLYING THE WANT OF 
EARLY EDUCATION. 


[From a Correspondent. ] 


Tus ‘ Penny Magazine’ has’ furnished several papers 
on the general subject of Education ; but as I do not 
remember to have seen any individual case in its pages, 
I venture to communicate to you some points in my 
own history, which, if I am nct mistaken, strongly 
illustrate the importance of acquiring, early in life, the 
fundamental knowledge which education supplies. 

I think I may say that, in the whole of my life, I 
have never received any other direct and actual know- 
ledge from others than such as a person necessarily, in 
his passage through life, gleans from those with whom 
he has intercourse. I was taught, indeed, to read and 
to write; but you are aware that reading and writing 
form no part of real knowledge, being simply acquire- 
ments—implements—with which, if we learn how to 
use them, some knowledge may be acquired and com- 
municated. Poverty and great bodily infirmity con- 
curred to stop my education at this point. Poverty 
required that I should early win my bread by the sweat 
of my brow; but my personal infirmities interposed, 
and procured me more leisure than a poor boy usually 
finds, and which I would then gladly have exchanged 
for the food and raiment which I might, under happier 
circumstances, have obtained by bodily labour. ' 

My boyhood and my youth is now over, and, in 
reviewilg my past career, [ am sensible of many errors 
of conduct, and of many omissions of the duty which 
each man owes to himself; but in adverting to the par- 


* 
« a: 


- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


437 


ticular period I have mentioned, [ am at a loss to 
perceive how, under all the circumstances, I could 
better have employed the uncontrolled and unguided 
Icisure of my boyhood than I did. During this period, 
and subsequently in the intervals of manual occupation, 
I read with eagerness every printed thing that fell in 
my way,—from the placard on the wall, and the torn 
newspaper gathered from the street, to volumes from 
the shelves of my neighbours—and from the nursery- 
book and the fairy-tale, to the poetry of Milton and 
the metaphysics of Locke. ‘Thus, in the progress of 
years, | gathered togwether a considerable quantity of 
ecneral knowledge, mixed with much rubbish and un- 
profitable matter. I gathered this knowledge together 
in solitude and silence, without the cognizance, direc- 
tion, encouragement, or control of any living soul. Tf 
was even stirred by reading to think and to write for 
myself; and I acquired the power of expressing what I 
thought, or wished to state, just as f now express it to 
you. °° hen you are a self-educated man?” No. I 
consider myself an uneducated man; and it is precisely 
my object to state that, while my actual acquirements 
have made happy and usefinl a life which once promised 
nothing of comfort or utility, I have suffered much from 
the want of that mental discipline in early life, and of 
those connected studies and regulated pursuits which 
form what I understand by the term ** Education.” 

When I was at last brought by circumstances to 
mingle more with my fellows than I had hitherto done, 
I] was soon enabled to discover that ** knowledge was 
power.’ My situation was then such as to cause the 
amount of my attainments to be seen through a magnify- 
ing medium by myself and others; and. by degrees I 
began to entertain the thought that I might one day 
luscribe my uame among those which posterity would 
remember. .But when I sat down quictly to consider 
the matter, I saw that to build up a structure in the 
world which I could myself regard with satisfaction, 
much was wanting which it did not seem lhkely that I 
should ever acquire. 

Kiducation was that which I wanted, and I perfectly 
well knew this want, and fully purposed to repair it to 
the best of my power ; but I conld not feel the prospect 
enconraging, that I should be obliged to spend the 
leisure of my best days, amidst the business and anxie- 
ties of matnre life, in acquirine the routine aud ele- 
mentary knowledge with which others came into the 
active world ready furnished from their schools, and 
which had there formed the suitable employment of 
their unoccupied boyhood. In after years, 1 went ou 
increasing my stock of actual knowledge, and supplying 
the want of early education, as well as my opportunities 
and means allowed; but, with regard to education, I 
found, in practice, that the business of self-instruction 
was too frequently interrupted by the attention which 
subjects of more immediate and important interest re- 
quired ; and I believe it will always be found a work of 
difficulty and self-denial to give the attention to the 
acquisition of the materials and elements of thought 
and knowledge when the mind has acquired maturity of 
action, and finds that its strength and vigour migh¢ 
have been much more fittingly employed in dealing: 
with accumulated elements, and forming a_ super- 
structure on accumulated materials. ‘The case is that 
of one who might be erecting a house in which men 
may dwell, or a temple in which they may worship, but 
is obliged to bore stone at the quarry, or make bricks 
in the field. 

I am anxious to be distinctly understood. It 
may be said, *‘ Many are obliged to learn things 
which they ought to have learnt at school: there is 
Mr. A , who is now, at the age of 40, learning 
Greek.” Now, I will not stop to ask whether Mr. A 
might not, at the age of 40, be better employed than in 








438 


Icarning Greek; but I would say that this case, or any 
such case, has nothing at all to do with the subject 
before us. An educated man may, with facility and 
interest, study a language or a science, the process of 
acquiring which would be tiresome and difficult to one 
who is uneducated. The former has habits of con- 
nected study which facilitate his progress; and the lan- 
euages or sciences with which he is acquainted suggest 
analo~ies and differences, elucidate obscurities, and, 
altowether, greatly enliven his progress in the acquisi- 
tion of a new science or a new language. The educated 
and uneducated man may, atthe same time of life, be 
apparently occupied in the same pursuit; but the 
actual difference between them is incalculable. The 
one 1s working lightly to place a turret upon the tower 
he built up in his youth, while the other is digging, 
with great labour, in a stubborn soil, the foundations 
of a prospective structure. 

It was thus that I soon learned to feel the position 
which I occupied, and was led, on consideration, to 
(think, that to acquire a routine education would ex- 
clusively occupy the leisure of more years than the 
shortness of active hfe would authorize me to spare; 
and that I could not, under all the circumstances, do 
better than to continue to accumulate that general 
information which is not science, or learning, or educa- 
tion, but yet is something of all. I really think, at 
this day, that I could not have arrived at a better con- 
clusion: if I had determined otherwise, my education 
would still be far from completion, and I should have 
wanted some practical habits and attainments which I 
am enabled to turn to useful account, and which will, I 
trust, mark my existence as one that has not been spent 
in vain. Through the habits of mind which I have 
been enabled to form, in spite of the want of education, 
my hfe has been rendered comfortable. I can obtain 
the means of satisfying all my reasonable wants ; I have 
many friends, and never had a foe; and those with 
whom | am in duty or in friendship connected seem to 
award me quite as much consideration as I feel entitled 
to expect. And yet, with all this, the want of education 
has exposed me to drawbacks and mortifications which 
make me often feel as if I were an intruder on the 
position to which I have attained; and I am perfectly 
assured that if I could impress my convictions as 
strongly as I entertain them upon the mind of a parent 
or a child, nothing would appear to them more im- 
portant than the habits which early education produces, 
and the fundamental acquirements which it bestows. 

I think I have said that at the time when I knew 
little, practically, of myself or of others, fame appeared 
to me as a primary object of cxistence. But my youne 
ambition, in the course of following years, spontaneously 
moulted many of its plumes, and many others were 
roughly torn off in my passage through the world. 
‘ime and experience rendered iny character less san- 
cuine than it had been; the cares and duties of life 
gathered around me, and I became acquainted with 
men whom I could at once acknowledge as much 
superior in natural and acquired power to myself. 
These things brought me down to my true position, 
and taught me to be content to be quietly and un- 
obtrusively useful; and, ultimately, the desire to be 
useful became to me nearly as strong a principle of 
action as the desire of distinction had formerly been. 

Yet the comparative moderation of my present objects 
does not exempt ine, as I have intimated, from much 
cause to regret the want of early education. And this 
want I have now no expectation ever to repair; for the 
time is come when I must tive upon what I have al- 
ready done, and my time is of tco much immediate 
value to allow me to do much more. In this great city 
I have found my level, as most other men find theirs. 
‘hat level is an eminence compared with my early 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


~ 


prospects; but, cireumstanccd as I now am, the limit 
of my usefulness is the limit of my ascent; and J am 
connected with those who hold a man in consideration 
less in proportion to the difficulties he has overcome, 
than according to the actual and practical amount of 
his usefulness and talent. Now, education is a most 
important—almost an essential—element of the useful- 
ness of a civilized man to the world, and to the circle 
which time gathers more immediately around him; 
and while I am perfectly content, and even happy, in 
my actual position, in which all the real abilities I may 
possess are well employed and well recompensed, I 
never had occasion to feel more intensely all the ad- 
vantages which education bestows, and never perceived 
so clearly to what excellent account these advantages 
mi@ht be turned. ‘There are also in such a condition 
many mortifications, one of which it may be worth 
while to mention. When a person hears that another 
had not the advantages of education and yet is of 
studious habits, he takes it for granted that he has 
rendered himself an educated man, without considering 
that it is as probable—perhaps more probable—that he 
employs himself on things which form no part of educa- 
tion, and which the educated man adds to his education. 
Hence the uninstructed student is often inconsiderately 
asked, by persons who are not well acquainted with 
him,—how many languages and sciences he knows? 
—an astounding question, the answer to which must 
make the inquirer feel that the talents and acquirements 
of the person whom he questions had been immensely 
exagererated, if he forgets that while many school-boys 
know .more than he, many men who have been school- 
boys know less. 

I could say much more on this subject, but I have 
said as much as I desire if I have shown the importance 
of early education, by exhibiting the great difficulty of 
supplying the want in after life, and the disadvantage 
of leaving it unsupplied. 


Cleanliness. —The frequent use of the bath, and scrupulous 
attention to cleanliness, are among the surest means of re- 
storing health to those who are sick, and securing it to those 
who are well. It is an astonishing fact that few countries 
in the world are so badly supplied with proper bathing- 
places as England, and that (taking the people in the mass) 
there are few among whom tlie use of the bath is less 
general than among the English. And yet we consider 
ourselves, and, indeed, especially pride ourselves on being a 
very cleanly people. We suspect there is some truth in a 
sarcastic remark which we met with a few years ago—‘‘ A 
Frenchman in the middling ranks of hfe often puts on a 
dirty shirt over a clean skin, but an Englishman of the same 
condition still oftener puts on a clean shirt over a dirty 
skin.” The extravagant price paid even in London for a 
bath, 1s proof enough that the use of it is very confined. 
If it were more general, there would be a competition of 
speculators in that line, and the number of baths would be 
increased, and the prices lowered. As less is paid for a bath 
now than was paid in 1815, we may perhaps conclude that 
there are more bathers than formerly, and that the salutary 
practice is rather on the increase among us. Before the 
last peace, there were few of our provincial towns that had 
public baths of any kind, and in many of the northern parts 
of the island no such vessel as a bath had ever been seen. 
To speak of London alone, with its admirable supply of 
water and fuel, with the ingenious contrivances lately in- 
vented to economize fuel, and generate and diffuse leat at 
small expense, we think it might be practicable to let the 
poor man have his bath for two or three pence. Indeed, 
there can be no doubt but that it would be practicable, if 
the purifying and most salutary practice cf bathing were to 
become general among the people. If the working classes 
were once tempted by low prices, we think it pretty certain 
that they would contract the habit to such an extent as to 
make low prices pay those who should speculate in such esta- 


blshments.— Quarterly Journal of Education, No, XV1J, 











THE MENAI SUSPENSION-BRIDGE. 


Tue most obvious and simple bridge is that formed by 
single trees thrown across small streams, or, in case of 
broader streatns, by fastening the roots of a tree on each 
bank, and twisting together their branches in the 
middle, ‘The uext. step is not much more complex ; 
for in a space too great for the before-mentioned opera- 
tions, few manual arts were required ‘to form ropes of 
rushes, or leathern thongs, to stretch as many of them 
as were necessary between trees, or posts, on the 
opposite banks, and connect and cover them s0 as to 
form a slight bridge. The following accounts, given 
by Don Antonie uy Ulloa, will Amor a dottdrl how 
these sorts of bridges were constructed and used in the 
mountainous parts of South America :—* Several bu- 
jncos are twisted together, so as to form a large cable 
of the length required. Six of these are carried from 
one side of the river to the other, two of which are con- 
siderably higher than the other four. On the latter are 
laid sticks in a transverse direction, and, over these, 
branches of trees as a flooring ; the former are fastened 
to the four which form the bridge, and by that ineans 
serve as rails for the security of the passenger, who 
would otherwise be in no small danger from the con- 
finual oscillation.” A sketch will be found in No. 10 
of the * Penny Magazine’ of a bridge of this description. 
“Some of the rivers,” says the same author, “ are 
crossed by means of a tartabita. The tartabita is only 
a single rope, mace of bujuco, or thongs of an ox’s hide, 
and consisting of several strands, and about six or eight 
inches in thickness. ‘This rope is extended from one 
side of the river to the other, and fastened on each bank 
fo strong posts. Fyrom the tartabita hanes a kind of 
leathern “hammock, capable of holding a man; anda 
clue is attached at each end. A rope is fastened to 
either clue, and extended to each side of the river, for 
drawing the hammock to the side intended. On one of 
the banks is a kind of wheel, or winch, to slacken the 
tartabita to the dee@ree required; and the hammock 
being pushed on first setting off, is quickly landed on 
the other side. I*or carrying over the mules two tarta- 
bitas are required, one for each side of the river, and 
the ropes are much thicker and slacker. ‘The animal 
being secured with girtls round the belly, neck, and 
lees, is launched in mid-air, and immediately landed on 
the opposite bank. Jn this manner rivers are crossed 
between thirty and forty fathoms froin shore to shore, 
at a heiglt above the water of twenty-five fathoms.” 
In China and Thibet there were, at an early period, 
suspension-bridges formed by cables of vegetable sub- 
stances ; but the uations of the (ast, after having, in 
the earliest times, nade astonishing progress, stopped 
all at once in their march. 

Suspension-bridges were not considered applicable to 
the purposes of a commercial country until within a 
comparatively recent period. Dhey had been super- 
seded by substantial strnetures, in which utility was 
joined to magnificence ; but tliese, as they could not 
always be carried over turbutert streams, did not satisfy 
the ever-active wats of an industrious people. About 
a century ago, a bridge of iron-wire was suspended 
over the Tees Winch, near Durham, which served 
for foot- “passengers. ‘The principle of suspension-bridges 
was naturalized in Hnue@land, but their utility was not in 
reality much greater ‘than the frail constructions of 
South America, or Eastern Asia. ‘¢ It was just,” ob- 
serves Dupin, “ that this noble application of art should 
He first adopted on our continent by the nation which 
had surpassed all others in the execution of ilose great 
works in whicn tron was the principal element ;” and 
there now ouly required minds whose genius was fitted 
to direct the suspensive principle of bridge-building 
on a scale commensurate to the wants of the time. 
These soon arose; the Menai Bridge is one of the 


35 UW 


LHE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


rr nr US PD A I SS EE 


439 


most magnificent specimens of engineering talent yet in 
existence. It was constructed under the directions of 
the late Mr. Telford. In 1818, this gentleman was 
surveying the improvements which could be effected on 
the extensive line of roads from London to Holyhead, 
—the point of the Welsh coast nearest to Ireland. 
Holyhead is situated in the island of Anglesea, which is 
separated from Caernarvonshire by a celebrated strait, 
or arm of the sea, named the Menai, through which the 
tide flows with erent velocity, and, from local circulm- 
stances, in a very peculiar manner. ‘The intercourse of 
the inhabitants with the opposite portion of Wales was 
thus circumscribed. There were five or six ferries, 
but the navigation was often difficult, and sometimes 
daugerous. ‘One of the staple productions of the 
island is cattle, and they were generally compelled to 
swim across thé Strait. The importance of obtamue 
more rapid means of intercourse with Ireland occasioned 
Mr. Telford strongly to direct his attention to the pOs- 
sibility of throwing a brid@e across the Menai. The 
obstaclés were a rapid stream with high banks. To 
have erected a bridge of the usual construction would 
have obstructed the navigation; besides, the erection 
of piers in the bed of the sea was impracticable. My. 
Telford therefore recommended the construction of 2 
suspension-bridge, which was completed in 1826. “The 
bridge is partly of stone and partly of iron, and consists 
of seven stone arches, exceeding in magnitude every work 
of the kind in the world. They connect the land with 
the two main piers, which rise 53 feet above the level of 
the road, over the top of which the chains are sus- 
pended, each chain being 1,714 feet from the fastenin ors 
in the rock. The top ~masts of the first three- masted 
vessel which passed under the bridge were nearly as 
high as those of a fngate, but they — twelve feet 
and a half below the “The | of the roadway. ‘The sus- 
pending power of the chains is calculated at 2,016 tons; 
the total weight of each chain is 121 tons, 

“This bridge occasioned Mr. Telford more inteuse 
thought than any other of his works. To a friend, a 
few months before his death, he stated that his anxiety 
for a short time previous to the opening’ was so extreme 
that he had but little sound sleep; and that a much 
longer continuance of that condition of mind must 
have undermined his health. Not that he had any 
reason to doubt the strength aud stability of any part 
of the structure, for he had employed all the precautions 
that he could imagine useful, as suggested by his own 
experience and consideration, or by the zeal and talents 
of his able assistants, yet the bare possibility that some 
weak point might have escaped his and their vigilance 
In a work so new, | sept the whole structure constantly 
passing in review before his mind’s eye, to examine if 
he could discover a pomt that did not contribute its 
share to the perfection of the whole *.” 

The idea and execution of chain suspension piers is 
due to Captain Brown. They are of great value in 
ports where ships are unable to approach the shore for 
a considerable distance, in embarking or disembarking 
troops and bageage, and in facilitating the arrival and 
departure of passengers, The chain-picr at Leith was 
constructed by Captain Brown in 1822. In order to 
reach, from the shore, the place in the Forth where 
steam-boats and other ships could keep afloat at hieh 
or low water without danger, and in very bad we ather, 
it was necessary to advance 283 yards into the se 
reckoning the distance trom the high-water mark on 
shore. ‘To fill up this-long space, three arches of 
suspension chains were formed, each having 209 feet 
In span; thus the pier is held by tour supports only,— 
one on shore, and three upon piles in the middle of the 
sea. In order to try the power of the chain-pier, 


* ‘Repertory of Arts’ for October, 1824, to which article we are 
algo indebted for come of the subsequent dutuils, 


440 


Captain Brown loaded it with 210 tons which he suf- 
fered to remain a considerable length of time, notwith- 
standing the casual burden occasioned by passengers, 
and the shaking produced by their movement. Such a 
fact affords a satisfactory proof of the solidity of the 
system on which the pier was constructed. ‘he 
Brighton chain-pier is on a Jarger scale than that at 
Leith, being composed of three inverted arches, each 
230 feet in span; its breadth is 12 feet. 

In France it has been proposed to convey water 
across narrow and deep valleys by suspension canals, 
imstead of those aqueducts with lofty stone arches, 
which are so expensive in their construction. On the 
estate of M. de Chabrol, there is a small aqueduct of 
One pipe supported by suspension chains. 

Mr. Telford, the engineer under whose directions the 
Menai Bridge was constructed, was unequalled in this 
or any other country for the number and importance 
of his public works. There is scarcely a county in 
Kingland, Wales, or Scotland, in which they may not 
be pointed out. The Conway Bridge, the Caledonian 
Canal, the St. Katherine’s Docks, the Holyhead roads 
and bridges, the Highland roads and bridges, the 
Chirke and Pont-y-cisilte aqueducts are the works of 
his genius and ability. The Menai Bridge will pro- 
bably. be regarded as the most striking monument of 
his fame. In the construction of the Caledonian 
Canal he successfully contended with immense ob- 
stacles; but he was accustomed to set a higher value 
on the improvements which he effected on the Holy- 
head Road than on any other of his works. Mr. 'Tel- 
jord was born in the parish of Westerhill, in the county 
of Dumfries, in the year 1757. At the age of fourteen 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


he was apprenticed to the trade of a mason, and, until | 













































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LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT 





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Printed by Winnrrim Crowes Duke Street, Lameth, 


[NovemBer 8, 1834. 





1783, he continued to be employed in house and bridge 
building in his native district of Eskdale. Having then 
been taught architectural drawing he came up to London, 
and was for some time employed at the great square of 
public-offices at Somerset House: gradually he rose from 
the stone-mason and builder’s yard to the head of his 
profession. Though all his conceptions were vast, yet to 
magnificence he knew how to join beauty and elegance. 
When at the highest point of his fame, his conduct to- 
wards the junior members of his profession was marked 
by great kindness and liberality, and to the latest period 
of his life he was fond of the society of young men who 
delighted in learning, encouraging them to pursue their 
studies in the manner best calculated to insure eminence 
in their respective avocations, He was a great reader, 
and by self-instruction acquired a knowledge of Latin, 
German, French, and Italian. He generally retired 
to bed before twelve, aud read himself to sleep; rose 
at seven, and finished breakfast before eight, at which 
hour he entered his office for business; and to his 
punctuality he no doubt owed some of his great success 
in life. Mr. Telford was never married. For some 
time he had been gradually withdrawing from his pro- 
fessional duties, and chiefly. occupied himself in pre- 
paring a detailed account of the great works which he 
had planned and lived to see executed. ‘The writer in 
the * Repertory of Arts’ states, that the manuscript of 
this work was completed a few years before his death, 
which took place on the 2nd of September, 1834; and 
on the 10th his remains were deposited in Westminster 
Abbey. Like Arkwright and Watt, his genius was 
one peculiarly adapted to the country of his birth; like 
them he added to its resources, and increased the means 
ofits wealth and happiness. 





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442 


Tue destruction of buildings which have been the scene 
of so many memorable events and circumstances as the 
Elouses of Parliament, seems to render it desirable that 
we should more promptly and largely bring the whole 
subject before our readers, than we should perhaps 
judge expedient on an occasion of Jess interest. We 
therefore propose’ to devote the- greater portion of 
several consecutive Numbers of the ‘ Penny Maga- 
zine’ to the accomplishment of this object. At 
present we shall- endeavour to trace very briefly the 
steps by which parliament became localized at West- 
minster, and then proceed to furnish a short description 
of the buildings whose names have become so familiar 
to our readers in descriptions of the late calamitous 
fire. We shall reserve for future Numbers statements 
of the scenes and circumstances which render those 
buildings venerable. We shall then proceed to notice 
the ancient adjoining buildings, and conclude the 
series with a statement of the plans which have on 
different occasions been suggested for the improvement 
or reconstruction of the Houses of Parhament. Tor it 
has long been apparent that the apartments occupied 
by the legislature, particularly the House of Commons, 
had ceased to be suitable for the purposes to which 
they were applied; and hence various plans have, in 
the course of the last century, been proposed for effect- 
ing that which the destruction of the two houses now 
compels to be no longer postponed. In this part of 
our subject we shall find it advisable to describe the 
two principal buildings which have been erected in 
modern times for the use of large deliberative assem- 
blies, namely, the Chamber of Deputies at Paris, and 
the House of Representatives at Washington. 


The word “ parliament” is much more modern than 
the existence of legislative assemblies in this country. 
The term is manifestly derived from the French, and 
was, il France, first applied to general assemblies of the 
state in the reign of Louis VII. ‘The first use of: it-in 
this country, according to some authorities, occurs in the 
preainble to the statute of Westminster, 3 Edward L, 
A.D. 1272; but Coke contravenes the statement we 
have just made as to the antiquity of the term; and 
says repeatedly that the word ‘‘ parliament” was used 
in the reign of Edward the Confessor. Be that as it 
may, it is certain that assemblies, analogous to those 
which were afterwards called ‘ parliaments,” existed 
in very early times under the Saxons, although there 
does not appear to have been any representative system 
approximating to that of the present House of Com- 
mons until “‘ some years after the Conquest” ;” or, to 
speak more definitely, until the reign of Henry ili. 
The Saxons, towhom we are indebted for the principles 
of our most valuable institutions, brought into this 
country the custom, common among all the German 
nations, of debating and concluding all! affairs of im- 
portance in great councils of the people. 

But although the antiquity of parliaments in this 
country 1s apparent, it is by no means equally clear how 
these assemblies were composed; and it is particularly 
difficult to discover whether the commons did in any way 
partake in these deliberations. All that we distinctly 
kiow is, that the principles at least of the existing par- 
liamentary constitution were marked out as early as 
the reign of Kine John, who, in the Great Charter, 
promises to summon all archbishops, bishops, abbots, 
earls, and greater barons, personally ; and all other 
tenants in clief under the crown by the sheriff and 
bailitfs ; to meet at a certain place, with forty days’ 
notice, to assess aids and scutages when necessary. It 
is also certain that the representative system for the 
Cominons was im actual operation in the following 
reign; for there still remain writs of the date of 1266 

* Flume. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


[NovempBer 15, 


4 
to summon knignts, citizens, and burgesses to par- 


liament. These are tangible facts ; but it is proper to 
add, that writers of some authority think that the 


Commons were first called to parliament in the reign 
of Henry II., or even of Henry I.; while others, among 
whom is Sir Edward Coke, contend that the Commons 
of Eneland had always a share in the legislature, and 
a place in the great assemblies, although not upon the 
present footing, as forming a distinct house and as 
composed of knights, citizens, and burgesses, 

However constituted, parliament does not appear to 
have obtained a local habitation until the latter end of 
the reign of Edward III. In earlier periods, the 
“ king’s @reat council” assembled wherever the court 
happened to be at the time; and as the monarchs of 
those days led a rather erratic life, it does not often 
happen that two parliaments were successively held in 
the same place. ‘The assembly appears to have been 
usually accommodated in an apartment of the royal 
residence, and sometimes, in the absence of other ac- 
commodation, in a church, or ina field. By the time 
that the meetings of parliament had come to be more 
revular than they had formerly been, and ifs business 
more uniform and complicated, Westminster had become 
the ordinary residence of the court, and, consequently, 
it. also gradually became the seat of the parliament ; 
and after it had grown somewhat settled there, it was 
doubtless found that the conveniences there specially 
provided for the assembly, and the accumulation of 
its records, journals, and docuinents, rendered it more 
eligible that the king should join his parliament at 
Westminster, than that the parliament should meet the 
king at York, Coventry, Oxford, Nottingham, or 
wherever else he might then be holding: his court. 

The first parliament held at Westininster after the 
Conquest was in 1189, the first year of the reign of 
Richard 1. It was an assembly of “ bishops, earls, and 
barons,” convened by that monarch for the purpose of 
considering the propriety of acceding to an invitation of 
the King of France, who had sent an ambassador to 
notify that he and his nobles had determined to embark 
in the enterprize of delivering the Holy Land from the 
hands of the Saracens, and inviting Richard and _ his 
peers to concnr in this sacred undertaking. ‘The as- 
sembled nobles very readily agreed to the proposal: 
they assumed the Cross, took the customary oaths of 
Crusaders upon the spot, and not long after they left 
Kneland to fulfil their vows. After this transaction, 
thirty-six years passed during which parliaments were — 
held at Nottingham, Lincoln, Oxford, St. Paul’s Ca- 
thedral, Runnimede, London, Northampton, and then 
again at Westminster. ‘This was when Henry III. 
kept his Christmas there, in 1225, and convoked an 
assembly of the clergy and laity, in which he grantey 
two chartcrs of a similar tenor with those of King John 
Fyvom that time forward parliaments were held with 
increased frequency at Westminster. In the reign of 
the same king, nine were held in Westminster and an 
equal number in London; and as these together 
formed two-thirds of the parliaments held during this 
lone reign, this alone would show how much more 
exclusively than in former times the present metropolis 
had become the seat of the court and parliament. The 
latter part of the rcign of Edward III. may be men- 
tioned as the period since which the sittings of the 
creat national counci! have been almost exclusively 
holden at Westminster. Since the termination of that 
reion, now upwards of ‘450 years since, not more than 
fourteerr parliaments have been holden ont of West- 
minster, whilst in the two preceding reigns alone more 
than an equal number were held in other places. 

Having thus traced the parliament to Westminster, 
it becomes desirable to go back to consider how that 
city became entitled to the distinction of entertaining 


¢ 

















1834.] 


the great council, and what accommodation for its sit- 
tings it could then and did afterwards furnish. 

The Abbey at Westminster formed the nucleus, not 
_ only of the ancient public buildings assembled in its 
vicinity, but of the city to which it gives name. The 
sanctity, extent, and wealth which the establishment 
attained, naturally drew together a large body of reli- 
pious men; and eradually induced the tradesmen 
aud others, who obtained their living by supplying the 
wants or luxuries of the monastery, to establish their 
shops and houses in the vicinity. ‘To the same source 
the original establishment of the court at Westminster, 
and the consequent erection of the offices of govern- 
nent is to be attributed. Canute, the Dane, is the 
first kine who is mentioned as having had a residence 
at Westminster, and many reasons might be supposed 
to induce that monarch, particularly in his latter days, 
when the clergy acquired much influence over his mind, 
to fix his abode in the vicinity of the mimster. The 
bniiding in which Canute had resided, was, it appears, 
destroyed by fire in the reign of Edward the Confessor ; 
and as the latter prince is known to have founded a 
palace at Westminster, it may be presumed to have 
secupied the site of that which had been burnt. The 
religious tone of Edward’s mind, which led him to 
enrich the Abbey with munificent endowments, and 
thoroughly to renovate and improve the building itself, 
might alone have led him to prefer the vicinity to any 
other for the site of his new palace. Accordingly, the 
structure (as built by him, and enlarged by subsequent 
monarchs) stretched alone the bank of the ‘Thames, 
and not only occupied the site of Westminster Hall, 
the Courts of Law, the Houses of Parliament, and the 
adjacent buildings, but also included the space now 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


as 





443 


privileges, and exemptions, so that at the suppression 


of monastic establishments, when this chapel was sur- 
rendered to the crown, its annual revenues were found 
to amount to 1085/. 10s. 5d..—a very large sum at 
that time for so small an establishment. 

The palace of Westminster coutinued to be the prin- 
cipal residence of the court until the fourth year of 
Henry VIII. (1512), when a third and terrible confla- 
gration effected so complete a destruction of the palace, 
that the king, instead of incurring the expense of its 
restoration as a royal residence, removed his court to 
Whitehall, the town residence of the Archbishops of 
York, which had been greatly improved by the taste 
and magnificence of Wolsey, of whom it was purchased 
by the king. 

It appears to have been in an apartment of this 
palace, the history of which we have thus detailed, that 
the earliest parliaments at Westminster were holden. 
We are not precisely informed in which apartment of 
this extensive fabric the early parliaments were accus- 
tomed to sit; but the first accounts which afford any 
information on the subject mention the Hall, which 
permits us to couclude that the assembly met in that 
noble room from the very first. Indeed it seems doubt - 
ful whether, until the parliament became divided into 
two houses, there was any other apartment of the 
palace which could afford sufficient accommodation ; 
for it appears from Stow that, when the original hall 
erected by Rufus was taken down and rebuilt in the 
relon of Richard I1., a temporary building of timber 
was run up in Palace Yard for the use of the parlia- 
ment. This would hardly have been done if any other 
apartment existed in which that council had been used 
to assemble, cr which could have afforded the accommo- 


ealled Old Palace Yard, with part of Abingdon Street. | dation it required 


ihe palace was much enlarged to the north by William 
ine Conqueror, and still more by his son Rufus, who 


bui't Westminster Hall as the public banqueting-room , formed but one assembly with the Peers. 


of the palace. A relic of its original use is still preserved 
in the existing custom of holding the coronation feasts 
within its walls. For an account of Westminster Hall 
we may refer the reader to No. 19 of the ‘ Penny 
Magazine,’ while we proceed to state that a chapel to 
the palace was built by Kine Stephen at the south- 
east angle of the hall, and at the north end of the 
palace, and dedicated to St. Stephen the proto-martyr. 
This small structure, as rebuilt by King Edward III., 
inclosed the House of Commons which has recently 
been destroyed. Towards the end of the reign of 
Henry II1., the palace of Westminster, with the chapel 
of St. Stephen, suffered mnch from fire. The damage 
to the former was soon repaired, but the restoration of 
the chapel occupied two years. In the following reign, 
in the year 1299, another fire committed much devas- 
tation ; not only was great part of the palace consumed, 
but the flames, being impelled in that direction by the 
wind, fired the abbey, which sustained considerable 
damage. ‘The damages were partially repaired, but 
in the following period of foreign war and domestic 
trouble, the restoration of the chapel was neglected 


until Edward TIl., in the year 1347, found it advisable | 
that of the old House of Lords, in the cellars of which 


to rebuild it altogether. ‘The new structure was in 


wh 


It has been already intimated that wnen the Com- 
mons first obtained a place in the legislature, they 
The sepa- 
ration is said to have first taken place in the year 1377, 
when the Commons removed to the Chapter-house in 
the cloisters of the adjoining Abbey, in which they con- 
tinued to hold their sittings until the time of Edward VI. 
‘his king, soon after the sequestration of the revennes 
of the collegiate establishment of St. Stephen’s, as- 
signed the chapel to their use as a place of assembly, 
and since then the Commons of England have always 
held their sessions in that building, with the exception 
of one or two parliaments held at Whitehall and two at 
Oxford. The Lords appear to have retained the use 
of Westminster Hall after the separation from the 
Commons; and we cannot learn with precision when 
they first began to occupy the apartment which formed 
the old °° House of Lords.” 

It now remains that our readers should be made more 
particularly acquainted with the buildings, as snch, 
whose appropriation we have thus described. 

Tus House or Lorps.—As a building, this was 
much less interesting than the House cf Commons. 
Scarcely any part of it could be called ancient, in con- 
sequence of extensive exterior and interior alterations. 
Indeed, the very site of the late house is different from 


a style more beautiful and enriched than that of the the Gunpowder Plot was to have taken effect, and 
bnilding which preceded. The king erected the chapel | which adjoined the Painted Chamber on the south. 
into a collegiate establishment, with a dean, twelve | The recent House was formed, in 1800, out of the old 


secular canons, twelve vicars, four clerks, six choristers, 
a verger, and a chapel-keeper. ‘The following year the 
king, by letters patent, endowed the chapel with a great 
house in Lombard Street, certain advowsons in York- 
shire, and an annuity out of the treasury, to make up, 
with the produce of the above properties, the sum of 
900/. a year, until he should have an opportunity to 
settle on the establishment an estate of equivalent value. 
He afterwards endowed the chapel with other properties, 








Court of Requests, which is considered to have formed 
the banqueting-room of the old palace previously to 
the erection of the Hall by Rurfis. 

Notwithstanding the great alterations and improve- 


Fmeuts which the House of Lords had of late years 
undergone, the exterior appearance of neither house of 


parliament was such as seemed to befit the legislature 
of a great people; and, upon the whole, what Ralph 
said, about a hundred years since, of these buildings, in 


o du 


444 THE PENNY 
his rather bitter ‘ New Critical Review of the Public 
Buildings, Statnes, and Ornaments in and about West- 
minster,’ might have been applied to the same structure, 
with little qualification, in the year 1534 :—" Nothing: 
ean be more unworthy of so august a body as the Par- 
liament of Great Britain than the present place of their 
assembly: it must be, unquestionably, a great surprize 
to a foreigner to be forced to inquire for the parliament 
house even at the doors ; and, when he found it, to see 
it so detached in parcels, so encumbered with wretched 
apartments, and so contemptible in the whole.” In 
speaking of the House of Lords, as it appeared a few 
weeks since, it may be said that, although it had passed 
through the hands of distinguished architects, its 
exterior was by no means remarkable for beauty, al- 
though it displayed some costly imitations of Gothic 
architecture. The western elevation, facing the east 
end of Henry VIIL.’s Chapel, had been, at a recent 
period, rebuilt, under the direction of Mr. Wyatt; and, 
in the opinion of Mr. Britton, it strangely contrasted 
by its tameness,—we might almost say by its deformity, 
—with the beautifully-restored specimen of the florid 
style to which it was so immediately opposed. T’his 
was fronted by a colonnade, also in the Gothic style, 
which connected the two entrances—that for the king 
when he went in state to the House of Lords, and that 
for the Lords themselves, ‘The royal entrance to the 
House was by an enclosed Gothic corridor, with a porch 
of the same character, leading to a staircase erected 
from the designs of Sir John sSoane, in the years 
1822-3, This staircase led to a gallery, divided by 
scacliola columns, of the Tonic order, into three prin- 
cipal compartments ;—-the central one lighted by a large 
cupola, and the others by smaller lantern-hehts, which, 
as well as the ceiling, were highly and somewhat 
extravagantly enriched, producing altogether a gaudy 
and theatrical effect. 

The apartment in which the Lords assembled did 
not occupy the whole of the Old Court of Requests, 
part of the north having been formed into a lobby by 
which the Commons passed to the Upper House ;—the 


heieht was reduced by an elevated floor of wood rei 
The room was of an| 


the original stone pavement. 
oblong figure, and of rather less dimensions than that 
in which the Commons met; and, though not splendid, 
it was considered avery handsome apartment, certainly 
not very well suited to the purpose it was made to 
serve, but, on the whole, much more convenient than 
the House of Commons. It underwent considerable 
repair and alteration at the time of the Union with 
Ireland, when provision was to be made for the ac- 
commodation of an additional number of peers. One 
of the chief and most interesting ornaments of the 
interior of this apartment consisted of the fine 
tapestry hangings, representing the defeat of the 
Spanish Armada. On the occasion to which we 
have just adverted, these hangings were taken down, 
cleaned, and replaced as they lately appeared. ‘The 
tapestry was judiciously set off with large frames of 
brown-stained wood, which divided it into compartments 
respectively containing the several portions of the 
history, or of the events of the destruction contemplated 
by the Spaniards on that occasion. ‘The heads which 
formed a border to each design, were portraits of the 
several officers who at that period held commands in 
the English fleet. The destruction of these hangings 
is perhaps one of the greatest, because perfectly ir- 
reparable, losses occasioned by the late fire. 

The House of Lords was fitted up anew on the 
accession of George IV., and among the minor alter- 
ations which then took place was thie erection of a 
splendid new throne im the place of the elevated arm- 
chair from which former monarchs addressed the 
parliament, This throne, which perished in the late 


‘in the middle, forming the passage into the lobby. On 





MAGAZINE. [Novemner 15, 
fire, consisted of a very large canopy of crimson velvet 
surmounted by an imperial crown, and supported by 
Corinthian columns richly @ilt and decorated with oak- 
leaves and acorns, while tridents, olive-branches, and 
other emblematic figures ornamented the pedestals. 
On the neht hand of the throne was a seat for the heir- 
apparent, and on the left, another for the next person 
of the royal family. The Lord Chancellor, who is the 
Speaker of the House, had no chair, like the Speaker 
of the House of Commons, but sat on a broad seat 
stuffed with wool, called the ‘* woolsack,”’ with no 
support for the back or any table to lean against in 
front. There were two similar seats for the judges, 
who occasionally attend to be consulted on points of 
law. ‘he spiritual and temporal peers sat, according 
to their rank, on benches covered with crimson baize. 
Lhe archbishops, dukes, and marqnesses sat on the 
neght hand of the throne, the earls and bishops on the 
left, and the other peers on the cross benches in front. 
Across the room, at the end opposite the throne, there 
was a bar, ontside of which the Commons stood when 
summoned to appear before the king at the opening 
and close of sessions. When the House of Lords was 
used as a court of justice, it was open to the public: 
at other times, strangers were admitted by peers’ — 
tickets. Not a great many years ago all strangers, 
who were only allowed to stand below the bar, were 
required to be dressed as for their appearance in a 
dining-room: boots were odious and forbidden things. 
‘these regulations were e@radually relaxed ; and within 
the last three years a @allery was erected, to which — 
strangers of both sexes were admitted. 

Tie Houszs or Commons.—Before describing’ the 
appearance which the House presented previonsly to its | 
destruction, and the state in which its ruins appeared 
after the fire, it will be best to trace such cirenmstances 
as have enabled some idea to be formed of the original 
beauty of St. Stephen’s Chapel before nearly all its 
ancient magnificence was lost in its successive adapta- 
tions to the use of one branch of the legislature. 

There is extant an old view from the Thames, taken 
before the towers of Westminster Abbey were erected. 
“It represents the shore as bounded by a wall from 
Cannon Row, beyond St. Stephen’s Chapel, with trees 
interspersed, and the latter with pinnacled butresses on 
the sides and angeles, and double ranges of windows.” 
(Malcolm’s ‘ London.) As the House stood before 
the fire, the western front was the only part of the 
oneinal structure that appeared. ‘This front, which 
presented a beautiful pointed Gothic window, did not 
seem to be mnch improved by the coating of plaster 
and the pinnacles which were added by the late 
Mr. Wyatt. Between this front and the lobby of the 
House there was a small but clegant vestibule of a 
similar style. At each end was a Gothic door, and one 



































the south of the outermost wall of the chapel appeared 
the marks with abutments between ; and beneath, some 
lesser windows, once used to he@ht an under chapel. 
When the chapel was originally fitted up for the 
House of Commons, in the reign of Edward VI., the 
original walls were wainscoted, a floor was laid above 
the level of the old pavement, and even a new ceiling 
was formed considerably below the old one; and in the 
course of time, all knowledge of the relics of early art 
which the walls and roof contained was completely lost. 
But in the year 1800 it was deemed expedient to enlarge 
the apartment in which the Commons met, to make 
room for the hundred Irish members who then became 
entitled to a seat in the British Parliament. In effect- 
ing this object the whole side walls were taken down, 
except the buttresses that supported the ancient roof, 
and others erected beyond them, so as to give room for 
one additional seat in each of the recesses thus formed 









THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 







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between the buttresses. When the wainscoting was 
taken down for this purpose, the walls were found to 
be covered with paintings in oil, many of which were in 
a high state of preservation. This circumstance having 
been communicated to Mr. John Thomas Smith, an 
artist of London, he repaired to the spot, and was 
so munch delighted with the beautiful specimens of 
ancient English art which appeared before him, that he 
solicited and obtained permission to copy them for the 
purpose of engraving. ‘The result of Mr. Smith’s 
labours ultimately appeared before the public in 246 
engravings of subjects, of which 172 no longer existed 
at the time of publication. ‘here were found some 
pieces of sculpture, of considerable taste and beanty, 
and which sufficed to convey a very high idea of the 
sumptuousness and variety of the ornaments with 
which the. chapel was formerly enriched. The foliage 
which twined aronnd some of the columns appeared to 
vie in pdeauty with the decorations of the Connthian 
capital, The interior walls, which were so profusely 
decorated with gilding and ornament, seemed to have 
been divided into compartments of Gothic but not in- 
elegant forms, each having a border of small gilt roses, 
and the recesses covered with paintings. At the east 
end, including about a third of the leneth of the chapel, 
which part exhibited various tokens of having been once 
enclosed for the altar, the walls and roof were coin- 
pletely covered with oilt and painted decorations ; and 
presented, even in their mutilated state, most gratifying 
evidence of the progress which, many centuries since, 
had been made in the fine arts in this country. The 
oildine was remarkably solid, and Inghly burnished, 
and the colours of the paintings vivid, beth being ap- 
parently as fresh as mm the year in which they were 
executed. One of the paintings, representing the 
‘ Adoration of the Shepherds,’ had merit, even in regard 
to the composition; and the figure of the Virgin, in 
particular, claimed notice for its dignity and beauty. 
These decorations would seem to have been the work of 
ympressed artists; for there is extant an order, dated 
1350, authorising the impressment of painters and 
others for the works of this chapel. 

Without pausing to lament the destruction, provided 
it was not unnecessary, of these old relics,—for the 
time 1s come when the superstitions of taste, and the 
indule@ence of even harmless fancies, must give place to 
practical utilities—we may mention that underneath: the 
‘* House,” in passages or apartments appropriated to 
various uses, there were considerable remains, in great 
perfection, of an under chapel, of curious workmanship ; 
and an entire side of a cloister, the roof of which was 
scarcely surpassed by that of Henry VITI.’s Chapel, in 
the adjoining Abbey. 

The interior of the TYouse of Commons, as it existed 


previous to the fire, had nothing very strikine to re-., 


commend it to notice: convenience rather than orna- 
ment seems to have been the object of the eovernment 
in the successive adaptations of St. Stephen’s Chapel 
to the nse of the Commons, and even the former object 
was but imperfectly attained. It was too small, and 
this defect has been very sensibly felt by the members 
since the additions made to their number by the frish 
Union. There were galleries alone each side of the 
ifouse for the use of the members, and another at the 
end of the room, opposite the Speaker’s chair, to which 
the public were admitted, but this gallery was not 
capable of accommodating more than 180 persons. 
Lhese galleries were supported by slender iron pillars, 


crowned with gilt Corinthian capitals, and the walls of 


the whole apartment to the ceiling were lined with 
brown- polished wainscot. .‘The Speaker’s chair stood 
at some distance from the wall at the east end of the 
room: it was ornamented with @ilding, and surmounted 
by the royal arms. At a short distance before the 
Speaker was a table, at which sat three clerks of the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





[NovemBer 15 


House, and on which the Speaker's mace was laid 
when the House was formally sitting, and under which 
it was put when the House went into Committee. In 
the centre of the House, between the table and the bar, 
there was an area, in which a temporary bar was placed 
when witnesses were examined. ‘I'he seats of the 
inembers occupied each side and both ends of the room, 
with the exception of the passages. ‘The rows of seats 
were five, rising above each other, with short backs and 
oreen morocco cushions. ‘Ihe seat on the floor, on the 
Speaker’s right hand, was called the “‘ Treasury Bench,” 
as the principal members of the government nsually 
sat there; and the opposite seat was commonly occupied 
by the leading members of the “ Opposition.” No 
members had any particular seats, except those for the 
city of London, who have a right to sit on the Speaker's 
right hand; but of this privilege it was not usual for 
them to avail themselves except on the first day of a 
session. 

It is unnecessary for us here particniarly to describe 
the subordinate apartments of the Houses of Lords and 
Commons. ‘Their number and position will be under- 
stood by reference to the plan at page 445. 


Such was the state, as buildings, of the Houses of 
Parliament, when; between six and seven o’clock in the 
evening of ‘Thursday, the 16th of October, the sonth- 
west of the metropolis was alarmed by continued and 
extensively-spread cries of “ Fire!” followed by the 
rush of fire-engines and of multitudes of people towards 
the spot from which it arose, and which was indicated ' 
to a great distance by the deep glow in the atmosphere. 
That spot was the House of. Lords. It was about — 
twenty-five minutes to seven when the first alarm of fire 
was given, and by seven o'clock, by which time a large 
number of spectators had assembled, the fire was raging 
with @reat velhemence. 

Irom the part of the building opposite Henry VITI.’s 
Chapel, in the corner next to Westminster Hall, which 
may be indicated as the spot where the fire was first 
perceived bursting forth from the roof, the flames took 
three directions *:—it proceeded to the body of the 
}iouse of Lords, taking within its range the several 
apartments over the piazza facing Palace Yard, thence 
proceeding to the “ Painted Chamber” and extending 
to the * Library :” all these apariments were eventually 
destroyed, but not completely so until about one o’clock ; 
and even at that time the flames continued. The 
Library, which was a modern, large, and handsome 
biulding, was soon completely burnt, the roof falling 
in with an immense crash; but the collection of books, 
which was most extensive and valuable, was happily 
preserved, as, on account of improvements which were 
then in progress in the interior of the Library, they had 
previously been removed to an apartment which the 
fire did not reach. 

Lhe new gallery beyond the Library, built by Sir 
John Soane, as well as the staircase, which we men- 
tioned in our description of the House, were saved, 
owing to the thick party-wall which separated the 
eallery from the Library. ‘The front of the House was 
not so speedily consumed as tlie portion we have men- 
tioned ; but by nine o’clock all its apartments were in 
flames, and, ere long, althon@h the exterior walls 
remained standing, the interior was quite burnt down, 
and the roof and ceiling fell, but the fallen materials 
continned burning like a furnace within the walls. 
Between ten and eleven, two ereat masses of the front 
fell in; but the flames still continued to rage, and other 
portions to fall, until the whole front was reduced to 


Pd 


* The ground-plan which we have given will enable the reader 
to apprehend the disposition of the buildings and to trace the pro- 
gress of the flames, and supersedes the explanation on the former 
subject which, without it, would have been necessary, Lhe parts 
destroyed are indicated by black shading, 





























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such a state of dangerous ruin that, on the subsidence 
of the fire, it became necessary to level it with the 
ground. ‘The destruction of the modern parts of the 
building has revealed portions of old walls, &c., which 


probably formed part of the ancient palace; but the 


remains were of little interest compared with those of 


St. Stephen’s Chapel, the fate of which we may now 
proceed to describe. 

Another direction taken by the flames was still more 
extensively and rapidly destructive. ‘The course was 
eastward towards ihe river, the flames spreading also to 
the north and south, sweeping ali before them, except the 
strong ancient walls, even to the gardens. ‘he nume- 
rous large reoms which formed the offices of the Iouse 
of Commons were first consumed, and in these the loss 
in valuable books, papers, and precedents was very 
great. Mr. Ley’s house was also destroyed; and the 
library of the Commons, which occupied two stories, 
shared the same fate. The collection of books was 


much more extensive than that of the Lords’, and of 
Happily, through the timely exertions of 


much value. 
the librarians and officers ofthe House, with the proper 
assistance from the police and the military, the most 
valuable part of the books was removed before the fire 
had commenced its devastations in that quarter. "The 
ITouse of Commons itself was next attacked. From its 
proximity to the river, sanguine hopes were in the first 
instance entertained that its safety might be effected 
with less difficulty than had elsewhere been experienced. 
But the tide was then low, and, from the enclosed 
situation of the building, the fire-engines could not 
effectually be brought to play wpon it. The creat 
quantity of wood in the wainscoting and fittings-up of 
the House administered new fuel to the flames, and in 
an incredibly short time the whole was a mere shell,— 
but such a shell! The House of Commons was de- 
stroyed; .but the Chapel of St. Stephen’s stood in its 
Strength and beauty, like a rock amidst a sea of fire, 
and broke the force of its waves, which till then had 
gone on conquering and overthrowing. ‘The structure 
now stands as represented in our wood-cut, in a state 
of sufficient continuity and strength to admit of its 
complete restoration, if it shall be determined to restore 
it. ‘There are at least two comforts in this- fire, 
one negative and the other affirmative. It did not 
destroy Westminster Hall, and it did unveil St. 
Stephen’s Chapel. This chapel is, in fact, the only 
object of much interest which the ruins offer, and its 
present state affords ample testimony to the accuracy 
of Mr. Smith’s observations in 1800. The old walls 
and original proportions of the structure are now ap- 
parent, with much of the original mouldings and 
tracery and the carvings and paintings with which they 
were decorated. ‘“* It is really wonderful,” says a daily 
Journal, “ to see the sharpness and beautiful finish of 
the mouldings, the crockcts, the embossed ornaments, 
and other cunning workmanship in stone, notwithstand- 
ing the violence which the chapel has suffered from 
ancient destroyers and modern improvers, besides 
having come out of the fiery furnace of so tremendous 
a conflagration.” 

From the House of Commons the fire passed on to 
the Spealer’s official residence, which sustained great 
damage, though by no means to the extent which was 
at first apprehended ; and the approach of the fire was 
foreseen in sufficient time to allow the removal of most 
of the valuable property and furniture. 

Vhe other direction which the fire took from the 
point of its origin was westward, alone the range of 
buildings leading to the Commons’ entrance in Mar- 
garet Street, and facing St. Margaret’s Church. It 
consisted of Members’ waiting-rooms, on the ground- 
floor, above which were committee-rooms, and the next 
floor consisted also of committee-rooms, and Bellamy’s 
coffee-house. The whole of this range of buildings 


THE PENNY 








MAGAZINE. A4y 

was consumed, nothing but the walls being left b 
eleven o’clock. A reference to the plan will show that 
the Courts of Law and Westminster Hall must at this 
time have been in great danger. But by the in- 
cessant working of the engines, which were levelled 
through the window of the Hall, and from Palace 
Yard, no further damage was done. The papers in 
the Courts had been previously thrown through the 
windows into the street, and couveyed thence to St, 
Margaret’s Church for safety. 

When it is considered that the fire raged simul- 
taneously in all these directions, forming one tremen- 
dous conflagration, it will be seen that Westminster 
Hall was in the greatest danger while hemmed in on 
the east side and south end by the flames. Fears for its 
safety were entertained from the first appearance of the 
fire and through its continnance, and its preservation 
was the great object of anxiety and exertion amone all 
classes. There was more than one time when its 
destruction seemed inevitable. But its strong stone 
walls opposed such an effectual resistance to the con- 
suming element, and fire-engines, which had at an 
early period been introduced into the body of the Hall, 
played through the great window with such effect upon 
the surrounding fire, that the only injury it sustained 
was in the destruction of the glass in the upper part of 
this window. Had the flames burst through the window, 
as there was much reason to dread, the roof, which is of 
fine-carved oak, must have been destroyed, and a struc- 
ture consecrated by many historical associations would 
probably have become a rum. The strong anxiety 
which spectators of the very humblest class in life ex-- 
pressed for the preservation of this historical building is 
highly creditable to the national feeling. The antiqui- 
ties of a nation are amongst its best possessions. 

Next to the preservation of Westminster Tall, the 
safety of the cloisters and vaulted rooms, which formed, 
as it were, the ground-floor of the House of Commons, 
was an object of anxiety to those who were acquainted 
with the beanty of those ancient apartments, including 
the Speaker’s official dining-room, which lay immedi- 


ately under the room in which the Commons assembled. 
/In consequence of the strength of the arches, these. 
were also preserved in such a state as to admit of com- 


plete restoration. The cloisters were communications 
between the Houses and the different arched: rooms 
under the Commons. We indicate this now for the sake 
of giving completeness to our statement, but shall pro- 
bably have occasion hereafter to consider somewhat in 
detail these and the other subordinate buildings which 
can properly be comprehended within the limits of the 
view we purpose to take. 

The origin of the fire is still involved in obscurity ; 
and the subject 1s in course of being carefully in- 
vestigated by the Privy Council, with the view, 
apparently, of precluding the transmission of injurious 
surmises to future times, as well as now to set the 
public mind at rest. Many imputations and sns.- 
picions have obtained circulation; but, upon the whole, 
nothing has hitherto transpired to rendcr improbable 
the impression originally entertained on this subject. 
This was, that the fire was accidentally kindled by 
overheating some of the flues, which set fire to the dry 
wood by which they were surrounded. This over- 
heating of the flues is accounted for by the fact, that 
for some days previously certain subordinate officers in 
the Exchequer had been engaged in burning, in the 
bmildings adjacent to the House of Lords, a collection 
of old docnments and tallies which had become useless 
in consequence of the recent alterations in the manner 
of conducting the bnsiness of the Exchequer Office. It 
is supposed that in the execution of this duty the men 
orew too impatient and burned a great number together, 
by which the fues were choked, and the fire broke out 
in a number of places et once, 


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450 Titit PENNY 
‘Tae Church of St. Mary Redcliuf, Bristol, which is 
represented in our wood-cut, is one of the most beauti- 
ful ecclesiastical structures in England, and we shall 
avail ourseives of the opportunity it affords of furnish- 
ing an account of the important commercial city of 
which it forms so splendid an ornament. 

Bristol is a city having separate jurisdiction apart from 
the county, situated principally in Gloucestershire, but 
extending into Somersetshire: in other words, Bristol 


stands on the river Avon, which divides the two counties, | 


and about eight-ninths of its buildings are on the north- 
ern, or Gloucester shore. It is about eight miles from 
the mouth of the Avon, and at the confluence of that 
river with the Frome. Its situation on the Avon is 
thus alluded to by Spenser, in his beautiful catalogue 
of the British rivers, in the ‘ Faery Queene :-— 
‘¢ But Avon marched in more stately path, 

Proud of his adamants* with which he shines 

And glisters wide, as als of wondrous Bath, 

And Bristow faire, which on his waves he builded hath,” 

Bristol is one of the most ancient towns in Eneland. 

By the ancient Britons it was called ‘“‘ Gaer Oder,” 
which appears to mean a frontier town; and it seems 
to have acquired its more usual ancient name of ** Caer- 
Brito” while a protected city of the Britons under the 
Roman forces, which were stationed in the neighbour- 
hood. ‘The Saxons changed the name of the town to 
‘* Brightstow,” which signifies ** a pleasant place,” and 
of which the common pronunciation ‘* Bristow ”’ is 
manifestly a contraction. The Latin writers changed 
* Brightstow ” into “ Bristollia,” for the sake of 
euphony, and hence the modern name “ Bristol.” 
Seyer, however, in his publication of the ‘ Charter of 
Bristol City,’ gives the following as the preferable ety- 
mology :—‘* In Welsh, Bristol is still sometimes called 
‘Caer Odor,’ which means the ‘ City of the Chasin,’ 
and it is probable that the old site to which this name 
was first applied was on the hill near the old camps at 
Cliff-town, or Clifton, where the Avon runs between the 
precipitous rocks of St. Vincent. When the Saxons 
superseded the British, they translated Caerodor by 
Bric-stowe, ‘ The Place of the Breach.” ” ‘The account 
of its origin given by William of Worcester, on the 
authority of a MS., is that which was generally received 
during the middle ages. We says that Bristow was 
founded by Brennus, son of Malinutius Dunwallo, 
who was King of the Britons 380 n.c. This account 
of the origin of the town appears to have been satis- 
factory to the inhabitants, for they placed over one 
cf the gates two images of Brennus and Belinus, 
who are said to have reigned jointly after the death 
of their father. Whatever might have been its state 
under the early Britons, it is ceriain that it became 
a place of importance during the pericd of Rornan 
occupation, for Gildas, who wrote in the fifth century, 
reckons “‘ Caer-Brito” among the most important 


fortified towns in Britain; and in the year 620 it is 


mentioned by Nennius as one of the twenty-eight cities 
of Britain. Leland informs us that the town prospered 
greatly under the Saxons, and this was donbtless true; 
for it was first unequivocally recognised by history as 
an important place in the reign of Athelstan, and at 
the Norman Conquest Bristol was ranked after Lon- 
don, York, and Winchester. It now greatly exceeds 
the two latter cities in extent, wealth, and population, 
and thus acquired the name of “ the second city in 
England.” It is still sometimes thus distinguished, 
but younger towns have superseded its just claim to 
this title, unless by a quibbfe about the werd “ city ;” 
for Bristol is certainly the second city, although, as a 
town, it is inferior in population to Liverpool, Man- 
chester, Birmingham, and Leeds; and as a commercial 
port it is exceeded by some and rivalled by others. 
* Xn allusion to the brilliant crystals called Bristol diamonds, 





MAGAZINE. 


Bristol is still, however, “a place of great trade, and 
may still be considered in a prosperous state; but it 
is affected by the decline of the commerce with the 
West India Islands; and the rivalry and superior con- 
venience of other ports will probably prevent its rewain- 
ing the eminence it formerly attained*.” Bristol ap- 
pears, indeed, to have been always, according to the ' 
times, an active commercial town; and in the eleventh 
century it is said to have been the principal mart for 
the sale of English slaves of both sexes. Notwith- 
standing the pacific nature of its pursuits, Bristol occu- 
pies a very considerable place in the military history of 
the country; and, although we cannot enter much into 
this subject, it is desirable that the leading facts should 
be indicated. 

Karly in the tenth century, in the reign of Edward 
the Elder, the Danes sailed up the Bristol Channel, 
and ravaged the western shores of the country. Bristol 
suffered greatly from their incursions; and after Ed- 
ward had defeated the enemy in Wessex, among other 
defensive measures, he erected castles in places where 
they seemed to be wanting: one of these was at Bristol, 
and Turgot (an historian of the eleventh century, a_ 
monk at Durham, and afterwards Bishon of St. An-— 
drew’s and Primate of Scotland) says it was “ the 
goodliest of five built on the Avon.* This seems 
the origin of the famous Castle of Bristol. Some, in- | 
deed, consider Robert, Earl of Gloucester, the natural 
son of Henry L, as the founder of that structure: 
but it seems that he did no more than rebuild some 
parts, and make important alterations and improve- 
ments. As completed by him, it extended, exclusive of 
the outworks, 450 feet from east to west, and 300 from 
north to south; and it comprehended two great courts, 
many towers, a church, and a magnificent chapel: there 
was also a royal palace within the walls. Earl Robert’s 
nephew, Henry If., was partly brought up in this castle, 
which, in the reign of his son, Johu, was annexed 
to the crown, This king and his son, Henry ITI., con- 
firmed and extended a charter which had been granted 
to the city by Henry Tf. In the intestine commotions 
of these and subsequent periods the people of Bristol 
were generally found active partisans against the ex- 
isting government, which sometimes endeavoured to 
subdue their spirit by severe proceedings, and some- 
times endeavoured to conciliate them by the grant ot 
immunities and privileges. They besieged Edward L., 
while Prince Royal, in the castle, from whence, how- 
ever, he effected his escape. Edward ITI. constituted 
Bristol a city and county in itself; and in the next 
reign the people opened their gates to Henry of Lan- 
casier, and assisted him in storming the castle, in which 
many of King Richard’s friends had taken refuee. In 
the following century the inhabitants of Bristol were 
warm partisans of the Earl of Richmond, afterwards 
Fienry VIT.; and at the Reformation, in the following 
reign, Bristol was made the seat of a bishopric. The 
castle appears to have somewhat fallen to decay at 
the commencement of the seventeenth century; and 
Charles I., on the application of the corporation of 
Bristol, made a grant of the whole tc that body, receiving 
in return a consideration of 9592. The king had cause 
to repent of this bargain on the breaking out of the 
civil war, when the castle was repaired and garrisoned 
by the forces of the Parliament. It was, however, ulti- 
mately taken by storm, although with great loss, by Prince 
Rupert; but after the battle of Naseby it was retaken 
by Fairfax : and so important was this place considered, 
tnat this event is said to have given the final blow to 
the royalist party, and to have hastened the king’s sub- 
mission. When Cromwell became Protector he cave 

he 

orders that the Castle of Bristel should be demelished, 
anc so well were his orders executed, that scarecly “Any 
* © Boundary Reports,’ Part LY,, p, 219, 














































| THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 451 


vestiges are now remaining. Happily for the town, its 
military history terminated with the destruction of its 
eastle; and the most serious (though not the only) 
disturbance which its peace has since undergone, oc- 
curred at a very recent period. This was in Septem- 
ber, 1831, when an alarming riot took place during 
the ferment occasioned by the rejection of the Reform 
Bill in the House of Lords,—the immediately exciting 
cause beime the entrance of Sir Charles Wetherell into 
the city as recorder. ‘The eaols were broken open and 
burnt,—the Mansion House and Custom House de- 
stroyed,—the toll-gates pulled down, and many private 
houses plundered and set on fire. Irom two to three 
hundred lives were lost, either in the flames, or by 
the endeavours of the military to repress the tumult, 
The town of Bristol, in its most extended sense, 
includes many streets and buildings which lie beyond 
the boundaries of the ‘ city,’ and which contribute 
8072 houses to the number of 17,842, of which the 
town, as a whole, consists. ‘These suburban portions 
have been included within the lhne drawn by the Boun- 
dary Commissioners for the purposes of election; so 
that the town of Bristol may be stated to extend, from 
east to west, two miles and five furlongs, and from 
north to south, three miles and five furlongs ; while the 
diameter of the ‘ city” alone, the form of which ap- 
proaches to that of a square, 1s about one mile and four 
furlongs. ‘The “ city” covers a surface of 1840 acres: 
the area within the new boundary cannot be stated 
with precision, but does not appear to come short of 
10,000 acres, ‘The highest of the hills on which the 
city stands are St. Michael’s and King’s Down, which 
are 200 feet above the lower parts of the town. ‘The 
streets in the ancient parts of the city are narrow, with 
lofty houses of wood and plaster, ‘The fronts of these 
houses formerly projected in the usual style of old street 
architecture ; but, of late years, many of the streets 
have been widened and improved, particularly those 
which lead to the bridges over the Avon and the Frome. 
The buildings in the more modern parts of the town 
are elegant and spacious; this is particularly the case 
with the western suburb of Clifton, which is joined to 
the city by a continuous line of buildings. ‘ It con- 
stitutes,” says the ‘ Boundary Report,’ ‘‘ the most 
beautiful and ornamental part of the town, and is 
inhabited by many of its most opulent citizens.” The 
buildines in the external and suburban parts of the 
city are composed entirely of brick and stone; the use 
of wood, with which the old buildings are chiefly con- 
structed, having been prohibited by Act of Parliament. 
The streets are now in general well paved, with smooth 
side-paths for foot passengers. ‘The greater part of 
the town is lighted with coal-gas; but some of the 
shops, and the interior of many private houses, are 
lighted with oil-gas. 
fhe public buildings of Bristol which more par- 


ticularly claim our notice are the Cathedral, and the. 


| Church of St. Mary Redclhiff. ‘The present Cathedral 
is only a part of the original building, which-was the 
-church belonging to the Abbey of St. Augustine, 
founded, in the reign of King ‘Stephen, by Robert 
Fitzhardine, the ancestor of the Berkeley family, whose 
monument is still preserved within it. At the dissolu- 
tion of the monastery, in the reion of Henry VIITL., the 
church was partly demolished; but when the king had 
determined to create six’ new bishoprics, of which 
Bristol was one, and was informed that enough of the 
Duilding remained to form a cathedral, he put a stop to 
the work of destruction. The structure, as it now 
stands, consists of the transept, the eastern part of the 
nave, and the choir of the original building. ‘The 
length of the whole is 175 feet, the breadth of the tran- 
sept is 128 feet,—the breadth of the nave and aisles 








This tower, which, as usual, stands at the western end 
of the building, is of a large square structure, highly 
ornamented, and crowned with battlements and four 
pinnacles, The roof of the church is beautifully arched 
with stone, and it is remarkable that the two side aisles 
are of equal height with the nave and choir. There 
are some ancient painted windows, and many of the 
monuments are interesting as memorials of persons cut 
offin the prime of life while on a visit to the nei¢hbour- 
ing waters: among: these are Mrs, Draper, the “* Eliza ” 
of Sterne; and tlhe wife of Mason, whose epitaph on 
his lost partner is well known. 

We now come to the fine structure represented in 
our wood-cut. ‘The Church of St. Mary Redcliff,” 
says Camden, “is like a cathedral, and on all ac- 
counts the first parish church in Eneland.” It was 
commenced, in the year 1249, by Simon de Burton, 
who was six times mayor of Bristol; but it was not 
completed until 1376, and was then celebrated for its 
beauty througheut the country. The tower and spire 
were at first 250 feet high; but in 1445 a dreadful 
storm destroyed part of the spire, and considerably 
damaged the church. ‘The damage to the church was 
repaired by William Canynge, or Canning, five times 
mayor of Bristol, aud whose name occupies so prominent 
a place in the Chatterton controversy: the spire, how- 
ever, was never restored. ‘Vhe church is built in the form 
of a cross; and the nave, which rises above the aisles in 
the manner of a cathedral, 1s lighted by a series of lofty 
windows on each side, and is supported by flying but- 
tresses. ‘The tower is large, and, with the remaining 
part of the spire, richly ornamented with carved work, 
and with niches and statues. The principal entrance 
to the church’ is from the west front; but there are 
porches to the northern and southern sides of the 
church, the interior to the former of which possesses 
much beauty. Jt was over this porch that the room was 
situated in which Chatterton, whose father was sexton 
of the church, pretended to have found the poems 
which he attributed to Rowley. Although a massive 
building, yet, from its loftiness, and the peculiar beauty 
of its masonry, it has a light and airy appearance both 
without and within. The roof, which is nearly 60 feet 
in hei@ht, is arched with stone, and ornamented with 
various devices. The length of the church is 239 feet ; 
that of the transept 117 feet: it is remarkable that the 
transept consists of three divisions or aisles, like the 
body of the church, and the effect thus produced 1s fine 
and striking, when the spectator places himself in the 
eentre and looks around him. The breadth of the nave 
and aisles is 59 feet ; the height of the nave is 54 feet, 
and of the aisles 25 feet. ‘Phere are 15 other parish 
churches in Bristol, besides 5 chapels of the Established 
Church. ‘There are about an equal number of places 
of worship for Dissenters, Roman Catholics, and Jews : 
some of the churches are fine structures. 

(To be continued.] 


See SS 


Importance of accuracy in Accounts.—It is to be hoped 
that there are not many characters cast in the same mould as 
a tradesman in a provincial town, whose real name we shali 
suppress under the descriptive sobriquet.of “* Jamie Post- 
hume.’ Whenever a person of any consideration in his 
neighbourhood happened to die, Jamie was in the constant 
habit of sending a bill to the executor for groceries, linens, 
candles, or other articles in which he deait. For want of 
accurate accounts among the gentry, this source of income 
was found so abundant, that the half-uttered suspicions of 
some, and the open reproachies of others, were unable to put a 
stop to Jamie’s favourite fraud, by which he taxed the 
whole vicinity, offering them the alternative of a law-suitif 
they refused to pay him tribute. At length he was eflectu- 
ally arrested in his career by a gentleman, who, after com 
mencing his will with the customary invocation, proceeded 


is 73 feet, and the height of the tower is 140 feet. | to say,—* Jmprimis—i owe Jamie Posthume—nething !” 


3 M 2 


GAS.—No. ITI. 
{Continued from No. 166.} 


Arter passing through the lime, the gas may be con- 
sidercd pure. It is now in a state to be measured, and 
placed in the reservoirs destined to contain it until 
wanted for use. ‘The first of these purposes 1s effected 
by the @as-meter, invented in 1816. ‘The construction 
of this instrument may be seen in figs. 1 and 2, the 
first of which is a front section, or view of the meter, 
as it would appear if eut through by a plane parallel to 
the face, so as to show the inside work to a person 
standing in front: the other figure is a side sec- 
tion. The letters 
of refcrence are 
the same in both. 
€,.€, & C, 1s acy 
linder, or drum, 
elosed on every 
side except at the 
centre k, where 
there is a_ hole 
pierced through 
both sides, and at 
h, near the edge, 
where the gas goes 
out of the machine 
when measured : 
this hole is not 
seen in fig. 1. The 
eylinder is made 
of sheet iron, and is hollow. ‘Through one of the centre 
holes a pipe, @, is fixed, with its end turning upwards, 
to let in the gas to be measured. Withinside is another 
cylinder, d, d, d, d, which is 
divided inside into four com- 
partments, 2, 0, l, ¢, by plates 
of sheet iron; these compart- 
ments communicate by the 
holes, or slits, 6, 6, 6, 6, with 
the hollow in the centre, where 
the pas is first let in: they 
have no direct eommunication 
with each other, but are con- 
nected with the outer space 
by the holes e, e, e, e. This 
inner cylinder turns freely on 
a pivot, f, f, running through 
it; fixed at one end to the cy- 
hinder, and at the other kept 
steady by the bar a, 92, which 
is fastened across the centre 
hollow. ‘his end of the pivot 
dyes not reach to the outside of the cylinder, but is 
inserted in a hole drilled in the side of the pipe a, 
which enters the internal eylinder. Vhe other end 
projects front the inner cylinder, and reaches through 
the hole in the outer cylinder to a tin-cup, 7, 7, In a 
hole of which it turns. Within this cup, a cog-whecl, 
$, is fitted to the pivot, by which its revolutions are re- 
corded on the face of a dial by the aid of elock-work. 
Water is poured in at the cup, 2, 7, until it reaches the 
level, 2, and the machine is now ready for use. The 
operation of this ingenious instrument will be easily 
comprehended if the foregoing description has been 
well understood. ‘The gas to be measured is admitted 
through the pipe @, which is bent upwards, so that its 
orifice is, above the level of the water. ‘The small 
portion of the central hollow above the water is soon 
filled, the gas then flows through b into that division 
which is almost all undcr water; this in the figure is 
on the right hand, marked /. The pressure of the gas on 
the surface of the water forces that division to rise, and, 








consequently, the whole internal cylinder to turn round. | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 







































Te 
: [NovEMBER pap 


When this division is quite full of gas, the hole 6 will be 
just dipping under the water, and water will flow into 
it instead of gas. At the same moment, the slit, e, by 
which the division communicates with the outer cy- 
linder, will rise above the water, and the eas will flow 
out as the water enters the hole 6. ‘The next division 
will then be filled in the same manner, the inner cy- 
linder, with its pivot and the cog-wheel attached, will 
continue turning round, and the gas which has passed 
through it will leave the machine through the pipe /. 
It is now clear that in one turn of the inner cylinder as 
much gas will pass through the meter as is sufficicnt to 
fill up its four compartments; and if that quantity be 
known, it will be easy to arrange a piece of clock-work, 
attached to the machine, so as to point out on a dial 
the actual number of cubic feet that has passed through 
it. The measure of gas manufactured will thus be- 
ascertained by simple inspection as easily as the hour 
is known by.a watch. The gas-meter belonging to the 
cstablishment is made large enough to measure the 
whole quantity of gas manufactured; and smaller 
machines, capable of measuring a few hundred feet 
only, are sometimes attached to the houses of con- 
sumers of gas, by which the quantity they use can 
be accurately determined and paid for accordingly. 
‘These meters, from some cause which we do not under- 
stand, are not generally used in London, althongh it 
would seem they must be advantageous both to the con- 
sumer and manufacturer, as the former would not then 
be compelled to pay for more than he used, and the 
latter would not be cheated by unprincipled persons, 
who surreptitiously burn much more tnan they contract 
for. Gas-companies, of course, while lable to this 
species of imposition, are forced to average their charges 
accordingly, but the honest consumer is thereby coin- 
pelled to pay a higher price. 
An ingenious contrivance called a “ tell-tale ” is, tn 
some establishments, attached to the wreat meter. ‘This 
consists of a time-piece, 
A, placed perpendicularly 
over a card, B, attached 
to the meter, which goes 
round while a certain quan- 
tity of gas passes throngh 
the meter,—say 400,000 
feet,—which may be the 
average quantity made in 
twenty-four honrs. The 
card is gradnated as im 
the figure. ‘To the mi- 
nute-hand of the time- 
piece, a, a rod, b, is sus- 
pended, carrying a pencil, 
d, at one end, the point 
of which rests against the 
eard : the rod is restricted 
to a perpendicular move- 
mient by the guide-wires 
c,¢. When the minute- | 
hand of the time-piece is i, 
at 12, the pencil just y i= 
reaches the cdgc of the / 
outer circle on the card ; 
and as the minnte-hand 
goes on, the rod descends, 
and the pencil falls until the half hour, when it rises 
again until the hour is completed, making a descending 
and ascending stroke upon the card every hour. If 
during the hour, no gas had been inade, the card woule 
have remained fixed, and the pencil would have traced 2 
perpendicular mark in descending, which it would have 
marked over again in rising. ‘This would show, Ol 
juspection, that the workmen had been idle, or the 
works out of order, and that no gas had been mad 





| 
| 
p=} 
( 
he | 





1834.) 


during that hour; but if the card, during that time, 
had. moved forward by the action of the gas on the 
meter, the pencil would have traced a curve, wider or 
narrower as the card had moved more or less. This 
curve shows the quantity made every hour until the 
card is covered, when it must be taken out and a clean 
one put into its place. 

The gas when measured goes to the gasometer, 
This word properly means gas-measurer; and _ is, 
therefore, an improper term for a vessel which is 
merely a gas-holder. But such an_ instrument 


having been long employed for measuring as well 
as holding’ gas, before its present use as a_ holder 
of coul-gas, it has retained its old, and at that time 
Its appiopriate, name *, 


Fig, on 


Lhe gasometer is a very 
ad large cylindrical 
messcl,.¢ (iio. 3), 


covered at the 
top, and open at 
bottom, lke a 
tumbler turned 
upside down; it 
is .placed in a 
tank, or pit, 4, 


filled with water, 
just Jarge enough 
to allow it to slide 
up and down, 
where it is sus- 
pended by a chain 
Which runs over 
two pulleys, d, d, 
and a weight, e. 
These chains and 
weiglits are dispensed with in very large e@asometers ; 
for the weight of a hollow cylinder, whose sides are of 
a certain thickness, does not increase in the same pro- 
portion as its capacity increases: when it reaches ¢ 
certain size, it will therefore remain suspended of itself, 
and above that size it will require to be kept down 
by a weight placed upon it. Two pipes, c, c, enter the 
‘ gasometer through the bottom of the tank, passing 
through the water, above which tlicir orifices rise. One 
of these pipes serves to convey the gas from the works 
to the gasometer, and the other to carry it off when it 
is to be used. ‘These pipes are usually placed side by 
side, but are separated in the figure for the sake of 
distinctness. In the figure, the gasometer is full; if, 
now, the pipe which has brought in the gas be stopped, 
the gasometer, which has risen slowly from the bottom 
of the tank wlile the eas was entering, will rise no 
further, but will remain in its present position until the 
oas is wanted. When it is wished to send the gas into 
the pipes destined to convey it to the places where it is 
to be consumed, the other pipe is opened, and thie 
_gasoneter immediately begins to sink, pressing the gas 
in its descent through an immense range of pipes, often 
reaching many miles; and it 1s a curious fact that any 
increase or diminution of pressure is instantly felt at the 
most distant point connected with the gasometer,:the 
lieht increasing or diminishing at the same moment. 
The enormons size of these machines, some of them 
capable of containing 60,000 cubic feet of gas, and 
weasvring sixty feet in diameter, together with the ex- 
pense and difficulty of digging tanks to contain them, 
has led to the invention of other gasometers ; one of 
the most ingenious of which, called the ‘ Collapsing 
Gasometer,” was planncd by Mr. Clegg, in 1817. 





OM?) 
This machine was, in principle, similar to a portfolio, 
with the ends closed, It was placed in a shallow tank, 


* At some establishments no meter is used, and the quantity 
manufactured is estimated by the size and fulness of the gasometer. 
In this case the grasometer IS a PAs-mneasurer, though an imperfect 
CHE, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


453 


with its edges only a few inches beiow the surface of 
the water, and when half-full was in the position of 
which Fig. 4 is a section. As the gas flowed out, the 
sides collapsed, and the bars, or plates, d, d, prevented 
the edges, b, ¢, Fig. 4, 
from sinking 
lower as the ea- 
someter closed. 
In this contri- 
vance the ex- 
pense of dig- 
ong a tank was 
spared ; but the 
oreat, and as 
it appears in- 
superable diffi- 
culty, of mak- 


a 












ing’ the joints 
Tt ] ir —s 

periectiy — alr- eee G 

: ASE 

tivht,as well as a ee 


some minor inconveniences, prevented its introduction. 
Another invention, called the ** Revolving Gasometer,”’ 
seems also to have fallen into oblivion ; and, as far as 
we know, there are no gasometers now in use but those 
on the old cylindrical pnnciple. This part of the ap- 
paratus is the most unwieldy of the whole, and there 
appear to be no means of compressing it into a smaller 
compass. Where many gasometers are in use, ( and 
there are in some establishments nearly twenty), they 
form the most conspicuous and disagreeable objects in 


the building. 
[To be continued. | 


HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT.—No. I. 


TAPESTRY OF THE LATE Ilouse or Lorps. 


In our last Number we alluded generally to the tapestry 
with which tne walls of the House of Lords were hung, 
and which perished in the receut conflagration. It 
inay be proper to state that, although .etymologically 
the word “ tapestry” may be applied to any I:ning for 
the walls of apartments, its use is more usually restricted 
to a sort of woven hangings of wool and sik, frequently 
raised and enriched with gold and silver, representing 
fivures, landscapes, &c. Such hangings were in former 
times the usual linines to the walls of the principal 
apartments in the mausions of great people. An 
Kastern origin is commonly assigned to the manufac- 
ture aud its application; and it is said to have been 
brought from the Levant by the Crusaders, ‘This 
seems to be confirmed by the fact, that the early main- 
facturers were called Sarazins or Sarazinais by the 
French. Guicciardiui, however, claims it as an [uro- 
pean invention; and if the Bayeux tapestry was really 
the work of the Conqueror’s consort and her ladies, a 
kindred art must indeed have acquired much perfection 
in Europe before the time of the Crusades. ‘The fact 
seems to be that hangings of needlework were m1 use 
long before the loom was applied to furnish the same 
article with less labour and expense. Before that time, 
and to a smaller extent to a much later period, the 
working of figures with the needle formed a principat 
occupation among: ladies of quality. 

The first manufactures of tapestry that acquired 
reputation were those of Flanders; and they appear to 
have been long established in that country before they 
were introduced into England and France. This intro- 
duction took place in the seventeenth century—in Ieng- 
land in the reien of Henry VILI., and in France in 
that of Henry 1V. In both countries the art soon de- 
clined until it was revived, in France, in the reign of 
Louis XIV., when the French tapestry began to nval 
the best of the Flemish tapestries. Iu Iangland the art 
was revived at the instance of King James I., who gave 
20002. to assist Sir Francis Crane in the establishment 


454 


of a manufactory at Mortlake in Surrey. There is 
extant, in Rymer’s ‘ Feedera,’ an acknowledgment from 
Charles I., that he owes the sum of 6000/. to Sir Francis 
for tapestries; and he grants to him the sum of 20002. 
yearly, for ten years, to enable him to maintain his 
establishment. Previously to this time the tapestries 
used in this country were chiefly imported from the 
Netherlands; and of the perfection to which the art 
had there attained, the tapestry in the House of Lords 
was an interesting evidence. We lave already inti- 
mated that it was made in that country to commemorate 
the defeat of the Armada, in which the Netherlands, 
then strugeline to shake the heavy yoke of Spain from 
its neck, were almost as much interested as England 
itself. The poet Spenser, who lived at the time, gives 
a beautiful description of the tapestry which Britomart 
saw in one of the apartments of the house of Busyrane ; 
and in the description probably had in view actual 
specimens of tapestry then frequently to be seen in the 
principal mansions of this country. 
« For round about the walls yclothed were 

With goodly arras of great maiesty, 

Woven with gold and silke so close and nere 

That the rich metall lurked privily, 

As faining to be hid from envious eye ; 

Yet here, and there, and everywhere, unwares 

It shewd itselfe and shone unwillingly ; 


Like a disco!ourd snake, whose hidden snares 
Through the greene gras his long bright burnisht back declares. 


And in these tapets weren fashioned 
Many faire pourtraicts, and many a faire feate.” 


He then proceeds to describe some of the principal 
subjects represented, which were mostly love scenes 
from ancient mythology. With reference to another 
apartment of the same mansion, he says :— 
“¢ Much fayrer than the former was that roome, 

And richlier by many parts arayd ; 

For not with arras made in painefull Joome, 

But with pure gold it all was overlayd, 

Wrought with wild antickes, which their follies playd 

In the rich metal], as they living were *.”’ 

As it was, this splendid tapestry to which we are 
particularly adverting was one among many proofs of 
the strong sensation which the defeat of the Armada 
made throughout Europe. That great event was re- 
presented in various designs, exhibiting the first ap- 
pearance of the Spanish fleet ;—the several forms in 
which it lay at different times on the Enelish coast, or 
in presence of the comparatively small English force 
which pursued it;—the place and disposition of the 
fleets when engaged ;—and its partial demolition, and 
final departure. The whole was admirably executed ; 
and the dread that tlis fine work might perish through 
accident, or natural decay, happily occasioned the 
several parts to be engraved, about ]00 years since, 
by Mr. John Pine, to whose volume, published in 1739, 
we shall presently turn, but think it best to introduce 
an account of the tapestries by the following account of 
the Spanish expedition, which we have abridged from 
the article ‘ Armada’ in the * Penny Cyclopedia,’ to 
which we refer for more particular information than our 
space admits. 

In May, 1588, the Spanish government had com- 
pleted its preparations for the invasion of England, 
and the name of the ‘“ Invincible Armada” was 
solemnly conferred upon the naval force to which the 
execution of the undertaking was intrusted. It con- 
sisted, at this time, of 130 vessels: 65 of these were 
ewalleons and larger ships; 25 were pink-built ships; 
19 tenders; 13 small frigates; 4 were galeasses; and 
4 valleys. The soldiers on board amounted to 19,295, 
the mariners to 8050; of these, 3330 soldiers and 1293 
marimers had been supplied by Portugal: besides 
which, the rowers in the galeasses amounted to 1200, 


* ¢ Faery Queene, Book I1L., canto x1. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 





[NovEMBER 2% 


and in the galleys to 888. There were also on board 
2431 pieces of artillery, and 4575 quintals of powder ° 
347 of the pieces of artillery had likewise been supplied 
by Portugal. Two thousand volunteers of the most 
distinguished families in Spain, exclusive of the sailors 
and soldiers already mentionea, are stated te have ac- 
companied the expedition.* Besides this, another large 
military force was prepared by the Spanish gwoyernor in 
the Netherlands, the Duke of Parma, to co-operate 
with the fleet and troops from Spain. ‘These were held 
in readiness in the neighbourhood of Nieuport and 
Dunkirk, and flat-bottomed boats were provided fit for 
transporting both horse and foot. The duke was thus 
perfectly prepared for his part of the undertaking, 
aud anxiously waited for the Spanish fleet, persuaded 
that on its appearance the Dutch and English ships 
which cruised upon the coast would retire into their 
harbours, 

At the time when Queen Elizabeth beean her pre- 
parations, her fleet did not amount to more than thirty 
ships, none of them nearly equal in size to those of the 
enemy. Ultimately, however, the different descriptions 
of vessels, large and small, which formed her navy, 
amounted to 181 ships, manned by 17,472 sailors. ‘The 
military force consisted of two armies,—one for imme- 
diately opposing the enemy, the other for the defence 
of the queen’s person. ‘The army appointed for the 
defence of the queen’s person amounted to 45,362, 
besides the band of pensioners, with 36 pieces of ord- 
nance. ‘The other army amounted to 18,449; the total 
of both armies to 63,51], besides 2000 foot. who were 
expected from the Low Countries, 

It had been arranged that the Armada should leave 
Lisbon early in May; but the admiral, the Marquis de 
Santa Cruz, was, at the moment of departure, seized 
with a fever, of which he shortly died; and the Duke 
de Paliano, the vice-admiral, died also at the same time. 
Lhese circumstances, and the difficuity of finding a suit- 
able successor to so able a naval officer as Santa Cruz, 
occasioned some delay; but at last the Duke of Medina 
Sidonia was appointed admiral, and Martinez de Re- 
caldo vice-admiral. ‘The former was a person of high 
reputation, but of no maritime experience, which was, 
however, largely possessed by the latter. On the 29th 
of May the fleet left Lisbon; but on its way to Corunna, 
where it was to receive some troops and stores, it was 
overtaken by a violent storm, by which it was dispersed, 
and sustained much damage. All the ships, except 
four, however, reached Corunna, where they were re- 
paired with the utmost expedition; but several weeks 
elapsed before the fleet was again in condition to put to 
sea. News of this event having reached England, with 
an exaggerated statement of the damage, it was con- 
cluded that the expedition was ruined for that season ; 
and the English admiral, Lord Howard of Effingham, 
received orders from the government to lay up four of 
his largest ships and discharge the seamen. Instead of 
doing so, he determined to keep them at his own ex- 
pense, if necessary; and in order to ascertain how the 
Armada was actually circumstanced, and with the view 
of completing its destruction, if it had suffered so much 
as reported, he sailed for Corunna. On the coast of 
Spain he soon learned the truth ; and as a south wind 
had sprung up, he began to fear that the Armada might 
have already sailed for IEngland, and therefore returned 
without delay to his former station at Plymouth. 

Very soon after his arrival in port, Lord Howard 
was informed of the approach of the Armada; and the 
next day it was seen advancing in the form of a crescent, 
which extended seven miles from one extremity to the 
other. The precise object at which the Spanish Ad- 
iniral immediately aimed remained uncertain; but it 
soon appeared that he intended to press up the Channel, 
and effect a junction with the forces assembled by tie 





oe 


—-1884,] 


Duke of Parma. In endeavouring to accomplish this 
intention, the Armada sustained much loss from the 
desultory and harassing attacks of the Enelish ships 
which hung close upon its rear, ready to seize any 
advantawe which accident or the inadvertence of the 
enemy might offer. When the Spaniards at last ar- 
rived off Calais, their admiral ordered them to cast 
anchor; but was soon induced, by information received 
from the Duke of Parma, to direct them to proceed on 
their course. They had already arrived in sight of 
Dunkirk, when a sudden cali put a stop to the motions 
of the different fleets for an entire day. In the middle 
of the following night a breeze arose, of which the 
Enelish admiral availed himself by sending before it, 
against the different divisions of the Spanish fleet, eight 
vessels filled with combustible materials, which were 
set on fire. This threw the Spanish fleet into the 
ereatest disorder, and Lord Howard hastened to im- 
prove this advantage by ordering a general attack the 
next morning. The battle which ensued lasted from 
four in the morning until six at night; and although 
the Spaniards fought with great bravery, they were 
able to do but very little execution against the English, 
while many of their own ships were greatly damaged 
and several of them lost. The Duke de Medina was 
led, by such untoward circumstances, not only to despair 
of success, but began to be apprehensive for the safety 
of his fleet. The bulk of his vessels rendered them 
unfit, not only for fighting, but for navigation in the 
narrow seas. He therefore resolved to abandon the 
enterprise ; and feeling the difficulty of getting back to 
Spain by the way he came, he determined to sail north- 
ward, and return by making the circuit of the British 
isles, 

After the fleet had rounded the Orkueys, a dreadful 
storm arose, in which many of the ships were wrecked 
on the rocks, or driven on shore, or foundered at sea ; 
and subsequently almost equal damage was occasioned 
by another storm, which overtook the fleet from the west. 
The Duke de Medina himself having kept out in the 
open sea, escaped shipwreck, and arrived at Santander, 
in the Bay of Biscay, about the end of September, with 
no more than sixty sail out of his whole fleet, aud those 
very much shattered. An account published at the 
tine, apparently upon authority, thus estimates the 
loss of the Spaniards upon the coasts of England and 
Ireland :-—“ In July and August, ships 15, men 4,791 ; 
sunk, &c. upon the coast of Ireland, 17 ships, 5,394 
men :” making a total of 32 ships and 10,185 men. 


The interest which the Netherlands felt in these | 
events is indicated not only by the tapestry which has | 


oiven occasion to this account, but by the curious fact 


that the medals and jettons which were struck on the | 


occasion were entirely Dutch; none were struck in 
Kineland. 
The following is the title of Pine’s book :—‘ The 


Tapestry Hangings of the House of Lords, represent-_ 
ing the several [ineagements between the English | 


and Spanish Fleets, in the ever-memorable year 1588, 


with the portraits of the Lord High Admiral, and other » 


Noble Commanders, taken from the life. “lo which are 


added, from a book entitled ‘ Exxpeditionis Hispanorum | 
in Angliani vera Descriptio, a.p. 1588,’ done, as is. 
supposed, for the said tapestry to be worked after, ten. 


charts of the sea coasts of England, and a general one 


of England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Holland, &c., » 


showing the places of action between the two fleets, 
ornamented with medals struck upon the occasion, 
and other suitable devices.” ‘These charts, medals; 
and devices, form very. curious and interesting addi- 
tions to Pine’s work, in which he seems to intimate 
that the tapestries were executed on commission from 
this country; for he says,—"* Our ancestors that were 


personally im it (the defeat of the Spanish, Armada) 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


|corner, the first engagements between 





435 


were so careful that it should not pass into oblivion, 
that they procured the engagements between the two 
fleets to be represented in ten pieces of tapestry, with 
the portraits of the several English captains, taken 
from the life, worked in the borders, which are now 
placed some in the royal wardrobe and some in the 
House of Lords. * * But because time, or accidents, 
or moths may deface these valuable shadows, we have 
endeavoured to preserve their likeness in the preceding 
prints, which, by being multiplied and dispersed in 
various hands, may meet with that security from the 
closets of the curious which the originals may hardly 
hope for, even from the sanctity of the place they are 
kept in.” In another place Mr. Pine quotes Joachim 
de Sandrart as stating that the designs for the tapestry 
were executed by Henry Cornelius Vroom, “a famous 
painter of Haarlem, eminent for his great skill in 
drawing all sorts of shipping ;” and that it was woven 
by Francis Spirine. 

~The following account of the subjects of the several 
pieces of the tapestry in the House of Lords, exclusive 
of the border decorations, is drawn from Pine’s volume. 
No. 1. Represented the Spanish fleet coming up the 
Channel, opposite to the Lizard, as it was first disco- 
vered. No. 2. The Spanish fleet against Fowey, 
drawn up in the form of a half-moon, and pursued by 
the Englsh. No. 3. Represented, in the left-hand 
the hostile 
fleets ; after which the Enelish, as represented in the 
other part, gave chase to the Spaniards, ‘‘ who drew 
themselves up in the form of a roundel.” No. 4. The 
galleon of De Valdez springs her foremast, and is taken 
by Sir Francis Drake, while the Lord High Admiral, 
with the “ Bear” and ‘‘ Mary Rose,” pursue the enemy, 
who are in the form of a half-moon. No. 5. The 
adiniral of the Guypuscoan squadron being set on fire 
is taken by the Enelish, while the Armada continues 
its course until opposite the Isle of Portland, where 
another engagement takes place. No. 6. Some Eneg- 
lish ships are attackiny some Spanish ones to the west- 
ward, while the main body of the Armada, in the form 
of a roundel, continues its course pursued by the Ene- 
lish. No. 7%. Represented a severe engagement that 
took place between the two fleets on the 25th of July, 
opposite the Isle of Wight. No. 8. ‘The Armada, 


pursued close by the English, is: seen sailine up the 
| Channel, intending to stop at Dunkirk or Calais, where 
}it was to be joined by the Duke of Parma. 


No. 9. 
The Spaniards come to an anchor before Calais, from 
whence they are dislodged by the fire-ships sent among 
them in the night. ‘Phe Inglish appear preparing to 
pursue them. No. 10. The Spaniards are represented 
making the best of their way for the Northern Seas, 
and are in the mean time very much battered by the 

nelish, who closely pursue them. ‘The chief ealeass 
is represented as stranded near Calais. 

The views of the coast were, in some of the pieces, 
curious, interesting, and generally natural; and more 
attention than is usualiy found in the productions of the 
time was given to convey an idea of the different dis- 
tances of the fleets fromm the shore in the several pieces, 
except when the French and English coasts were ex- 
hibited opposite to each other in the same piece, when 
they are always much too near. In No. 8, part of a 
town on the French coast was broucht into view, with 
people hastening to the shore to witness the passing of 
the fleets. ‘The two last pieces represented part of 
Calais in the fore-eround, with soldiers and citizens 
upon the walls, and various other persons outside the 
walls, mostly engaged in animated conversation, with the 
exception of one man, who, in both the pteces, was re- 
presented as occupied in angling underneath the walls. 
Yhe sea was tolerably well supphed with dolphins, and 
other strange fish, which, in most instances, seemed to 


e coast, or by the capture 
each of which has 


[Novempen 22, 1834. 
Our weod-cut, which will 
f these compositions, is taken 


sified by the appearance of th 
or burning of single vessels. 
ive an idea of the style o 
from No. 2 in the series of pieces, 
just been specified, - 


oO 
Ss 








THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


ilar to one another, 
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leieet. 
he English 


o the Armada 
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1 


Several of the pieces are very sim 
representil 


oppose themselves, w 
progress of the Spans 


456 





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The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Tun Fields, 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, | 


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HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT.—No. III. 


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453 


Tr1s Chamber is commenty considered to have been as 
old as the time of IXdward the Confessor; and tradition 
even states that he died there. We believe that this 
circumstance was first noticed by Howell in his * Lon- 
dinopolis.’ The authority of this writer is not very 
high, and Anthony & Wood sneers at him and his book. 
Baker also gives the same fact, but brings no evidence 
i support of it on the one hand, or hints any doubt of its 
accuracy on the other. Itis certain that Edward the Con- 
fessor died at Westminster, and probably in the palace ; 
but it seems very doubtful that this identical chamber 
should have survived in its integrity all the conflagra- 
tions which have happened from the times of the Con- 
fessor until our own. However, it is certain that from 
very early times one chamber in the palace of West- 
niluster was known as St. Edmund’s Chamber. In the 
ceremonial of the marriage of Richard, Duke of York, 
second son of Edward IV., in 1477, a chamber is men- 
tioned by this name; and that the Painted Chainber 
and no other was intended is certain; among other 
proofs of which, the testimony of Sir Edward Coke 
inay be quoted. In his ‘ Fourth Institute’ he says that 
the causes of Parliament were in ancient times showed 
in tle Chamber Depeint, or St. Edward’s Chamber. 
Burnes, in his ‘ History of Edward IIT.,’ published in 
1688, speaks of a Parliament as meeting in 1364 in 
the Painted Chamber; so that it would seem to have 
been thus distinguished even at that early period. No 
cause, however, appeared for the application of the term 
‘** Painted” to this chamber, until the commencement 
of the present century, when, on the removal of the 
old tapestry with which the walls were hung, paintings 
containing a multitude.of large figures, and represent- 
ing battles, were discovered on these walls. Neither 
written evidence nor oral tradition existed to denote 
the period when these paintings were executed; nor 
was there any reason, from anything that was generally 
Known, to suppose that there ever had been any such 
paintings until the disclosure we have mentioned took 
place. ‘They were, however, certainly as old as 1322, 
and probably older; for in the manuscript itinerary of 
Simon Simeon and Hugo the Illuminator, dated in 
that year, and now existing in the library of Bennet 
College, Cambridge, a passage occurs, quoted by Gray 
in a letter to Horace Walpole, in 1768, of which the 
following is a translation :— 

‘ At the other end of the city (Liondon) is 4 tnoinas- 
ery of black monks, named Westminster, in which al} 
the kings of England are constantly and in common 
buried; and to the same monastery is almost imme- 
diately joined that most famous palace of the king, in 
which is the well-known chamber, on whose walls all 
the history of the wars of the whole Bible are exqui- 
sitely painted, with most complete and perfect inscrip- 
tiuns in French, to the great admiration of the 
beholders, and with the greatest regal magnificence.” 
this passage not only demonstrates that the paintings 
were there so early as 1822, but even indicates their 
subjects. There are strong reasons for consideriiie that, 
at least, many of the paintings were of the reign of 
MTenry TI. There is extant an order, dated in the 
twenty-first year of his reign, for paying to Odo, the 
goldsinith, clerk of the works at Westminster, four 
pouids eleven shillings for pictures to be done in the 
king’s chamber there, which very probably was this 
room; and if'so, there are many other orders dated in 
this reign for the execution and payment for painting's 
to be done in this chamber, anid other chambers of the 
palace at Westminster. The reader will find some farther 
information on this subject in No. 126 of the ‘ Penny 
Mawazine.’ 

On the discovery of the paintings in 1800, some per- 
sons had the good fortune to see them: but they were 
speedily covered with a coating of white-wash, which 
Smith, in his ‘ Antiquities of Westminster,’ earnestly 


.THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


‘-epbbts 


{ NovEMBER 29, 


exhorted the Antiquarian Society, but we believe with- 
out success, to exert their influence and interest in ect- 
ting removed, in order to have the paintings copied for 
the purpose of being engraved. 

The above account is chiefly taken from the work we 
have just mentioned; and it is worthy of being re- 
marked, that some of the copies contain, in a plate of 
the interior of the Painted Chamber as it appeared be- 
fore the old tapestry was taken down in 1800, one of 
the very earliest specimens of the then lately introduced 
art of lithography. The specimen is not very flattering 
to the new art, and it contrasts very disadvantageously 
in the copy now before us, with another plate of the 
same subject from copper. Mr. Smith also took the 
occasion to explain the art of which he furnished this 
specimen. - The tone of his report was rather cold and 
unfavourable, and would not have excited the expecta- 
tion of those results which the art afterwards realized. 

The Painted Chamber has been long used as a 
place of conference between the Lords and Commons. 
In Pennant’s time it made but a sorry appearance, 
“ being hung with very ancient French or Arras ta- 
pestry, which, by the names worked over the figures, 
seeins to relate to the Trojan war. The windows are of 
the ancient simple Gothic. On the north outside, he- 
youd the windows, are many marks of recesses, groins, 
and arms, on the remains of some other room*.” 


GAS.—No. IV. 
[Continued from No, 169. ] 


In order that the lights throughout the district sup- 
plied may burn with regular and uniform power, it is 
necessary that the flow of gasin the pipes which supply 
them should be at all times as nearly equal as possible: 
this would be very easy if the lights burning were 
always the same in number; but this is not thie case: 
a few lamps only are used by day, as in dark passages 
and counting-houses; a small opening in the main 
pipe affords, in such cases, a sufficient supply. When 
night comes on a great number of lights are wanted, 
and the quantity which was before sufficient is now 
quite inadequate to the purpose. The opening in the 
great pipe must be enlarged, the gas will flowin greater 
quantity, and the small supply pipes will be filled as 
before. Towards midnight the lights are generally 
extinguished, and the few remaining would, if the same 
pressure continued, be filled too full, and the flame would 
rise too high. The opening in the thain is then partly 
closed, the gas flows with less rapidity, and each remain- 
ing lamp still receives its proper supply. A very in- 
genious instrument for effecting these necessary changes 
was introduced in 1816 by Mr. Clegg, who named it 
the “governor.” This instrument, with some itnprove- 
ment by Mr. Cross- 
ley, is given in fig. 5: 
@ is a tube through 
which the gas enters 
the “ governor,” and 
b, another tube by 
which it Is carried 
off. It will be ob- 
served that in its pas- 
sare from «@ to b the 
gas will go throuch 
the hole h, through 
which a small wire 
passes, = suspetided 
from the inside of a 
bell-shaped vessel, c, 
and carrying a coli- 
cal weight, d. The 
: | bell-shaped vessel -is 
inverted in water withinside the “overmor.” Now sup- 
pose a full stream of gas to be admitted into the pipe'a, 

) * * Some Account of London, i793, - 


Fig. 5. 


= = 
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TF 


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’ 





1834.) 


when few lights are wanted, the burners could net con: 
sume all the gas supplied,—the pipes would be too 
much filled without some contrivance to prevent this 
effect, and all the lights would smoke in consequence of 
the over-supply. ‘This is obviated by the ‘‘ governor.” 
The pressure exerted by the too great flow of gas will 
cause the bell-shaped vessel, c, to rise in the “* governor ;” 
it will draw up with it the wire and weight, d, and close 
the hole, 2, more or less as the pressure is more or less 
strong, which will effectually prevent an over-supply 
to the burners. When more lights are used, which 
will be the case as it grows dark, the pipe, 2, will carry 
off more eas, the pressure will diminish, the bell-shaped 
vessel, being no longer kept up by it, will drop, and the 
weight also dropping will leave the hole, 2, open. With 
this instrument the flow of gas will supply the burners 
equally, whatever variation (within certain limits) their 
number may be liable to; but it would appear that its 
employment has not been generally found to answer 
the end proposed, at least in the large way, for, instead 
of this ** governor,’ men are employed in many esta- 
blishments night and day to regulate the supply of gas 
into the main pipe by means of a valve, which they open 
» or close as the supply is more or 
~ less wanted. That those persons 
may kuow what quantity of gas is 
required, a bent tube of glass, a b, 
called a * pressure gauge,” is con- 
nected with the main pipe by the 
end @, and 0 is closed; a small 
‘quantity of water, c d, stands in 
the lower bend. When the pres- 
sure of eas is strong, that is to say, 
when few lights are burning, and 
consequently the gasometer forces 
more gas into the pipes than the 
burners can consume, the water in 
the “ pressure gauge ” will be forced 
up at d towards 6; the person em- 
ployed then partly closes the valve 
| and lessens the supply of gas. 
When more lights are burning the¢supply of gas is 
insufficient, and the pressure diminishes; the water 
then falls in the tube, and the workman opens the 
valve. As acheck upon the persons employed in this 
duty, a very convenient instrument is in general use, 
called a “pressure indicator.” This is a little gaso- 
meter connected with the main pipe, which rises and 
falls as the pressure in the pipe increases or lessens; a 
pencil is attached to the gasometer, the point of which 
presses against a cylinder of paper twelve inches in 
length, which turns slowly round by means of clock- 
work. The cylinder is divided by hour lines traced 
from top to bottom, so graduated that at twelve o'clock 
the line marked 12 comes under the pencil, and at 
one o'clock that marked 1, and so on of the others. 
Thus the precise moment at which any mark was made 
by the pencil may be known atany time. ‘The cylinder 
is also divided by parallel lines all round, to show the 
heieht of the pencil, and consequently the pressure of 
the @as.at that moment. The “ pressure indicator ” 
was first used at the Chartered Company's Gas-works 
in 1824, 

We have now brought gas from its first impure state, 
as it left the coal, to the last stage of purity, when, 
having been accurately measured, it leaves the manu- 
factory to be carried to its destination. ‘The tubes 
which convey it are of a size proportionate to the. num- 
ber of lamps they have to supply; from the diameter of 
eichteen inches, where it leaves the largest works, to 
the small copper pipe which supplies a single light to a 
shop window. A pipe of one inch in diameter supplies 
gas enough to give a light equal to a hundred mould 
candies of six-to-the pound; andas a pipe of double the 





diameter has four times the area, it might be supposed | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


459 


‘that one of two inches would be equal to four hundred 


candles. It is found, however, that a pipe of that dia-. 
meter equals fonr hundred and fifty candles, and a four- 
inch pipe two thousand candles. This variation arises 
from the resistance caused by the sides of the pipe to 
the flow of the gas, which is proportionably greater in 
the smaller tube. The larger pipes are made of cast 
iron, with a socket at one end, and they are joined 
together by inserting the small end of each pipe into 
the socket of the next, and filling up the interstices 
with melted lead. ‘he pipes are laid as nearly in 
straight lines as convenient, and a slight inclination is 
given to them in order that the occasional depositions 
of oil and tar, which will take place in the best-purified 
gas by lone standing, may be collected in certain de- 
finite places, from whence they may from time to time 
be pumped away. From the mains which run under 
vround through the streets, smaller pipes are detached 
to the houses on each side the way, branching off to 
supply burners in the shops and other apartments. 

The burners are of different shapes, and from the 
easy flowing of gas in any direction, they admit of 
greater variety than any other lamp. Various names 
are given to those in common use, The “ Argand 
burner ” is in shape like the Argand lamp; a cylindrical 
ring with ten or twelve holes of one fortieth or one 
sixtieth of an inch in diameter, and a glass chinmney. 
The “‘ cockspur ” is a round head with three small holes, 
forming jets of light like a cock’s foot. The ‘‘ fan” is a 
spreading semicircle of small jets, and the “ bat’s-wing ” 
a thin sheet of gas, produced, not by passing throuch 
holes, as in other burners, but through a narrow slit 
sawed half-way through a hollow globe. The turning 
of a stop-cock below the burner admits a greater or 
less quantity of gas at pleasure, from the smallest point, 
in which it appears like a dim blue speck, to a full 
stream, longer and brighter than any other lamp conld 
produce. 

Tt has been ascertained by experiment that the larger 
the light produced by a burner the less is its propor- 
tionate cost,—that is to say, 1f Ina burner of a given 
size the gas is admitted so as to give a light equal to 
three candles, the consumption is much less than three 
times that of the same burner giving a light equal to 
one candle. In making this experiment an “ Argand 
burner ” of three-quarters of an inch in diameter was 
used; it was supplied first with enough gas to pro- 
duce a light equal to one mould candle; with this 
light nearly a foot and a half of @as was consumed in 
one hour. More gas was then admitted, until the light 
equalled that of four candles ; and with this great in- 
crease of light the consumption of gas was under two 
cubic feet in the hour. Consequently the cost of light 
in the first instance was a foot and a half of eas per 
candle; and in the second only half a foot, or three 
times as cheap. ‘The experiment was then continued 
until the light was equal to that of ten candles; when 
more gas was admitted the light became smoky, and 
the experiment was carried no farther. The following: 
the result of the whole experiment :— 


Consumption of gas Consumption of gas 
Light produced, per hour. for each candle’s light. 


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All those persons who burn gas by meter are inte- 
rested in the result of this experiment, if they wish to’ 
economise; they should get all the light they want. 
from as few burners as may be convenient, and when 
they wish to diminish their light, this purpose should 
be effected by extinguishing one or more lamps instead 
of lowering the gas in all. In this manner the greatest. 
light will be obtained at. the least possible cost. 

(‘fo be continued.) 
oN 2 





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Tue beautiful and fertile island of Madeira enjoys a 


elish 
0 


and strikes with a 
ger whom perhaps a few days 


have transferred from the gloom and chill of an En 
But the perfection of its climate is its equability 


of temperature ; the observations of eighteen years give 
and for the hottest month (August) 75° of Fahrenheit. | 


for the coldest month (January) an average of 64 


cloud. The air is soft and delicious, 
peculiar charm the stran 


wiliter. 





there is a peculiar 


which enables it to combine all the luxuries of climate 
clearness in the atmosphere, with a transparency which 
seems to bring out fresh hues from every object; and 
the sky, of a deep and stainless blue, is unsullied by a 


situation perhaps the most desirable on the whole globe, 
with the comforts of civilization : 


1834.] 


This and the softness of the air has caused it to be. 


mutch resorted to by invalids from northern climes, more 
especially those afflicted with pulmonary complaints ; 
yet, from its shores to the summits of its mountains, 
any degree of temperature may be enjoyed within a 
moderate range. The myrtle, the geranium, the rose, 
and the violet, grow around in the “wildest profusion ; 
the geraniums in particular are so common that the 
honey of the bees, which is far more pure and _ trans- 
parent than that of England, becomes almost a jelly of 
that flower. The island is also singularly free from the 
annoyances and inconveniences so common in warm 
climates, being subject to no epidemic fevers,—free 
from snakes, or noxious reptiles of any kind; it is, how- 
ever, soinetimes visited by an easterly wind similar to 
the Harmattan and Sirocco, which, like them, affects 
most constitutions with oppression, languor, headach, 
and dryness of skin. 

Its physical character is one mass of mountains, rising 

to the greatest height in the centre, descending abruptly 
to its shores, and riven throughout with deep ravines, 
radiating to the sea in all directions. ‘The cultivation, 
which occupies altogether only a small portion of its 
surface, is confined to the coasts and the bottoms of the 
valleys; vines, of course, forming the principal object ; 
for the corn grown annually on the island scarcely 
supplies the consumption of two months to its inhabi- 
tants, the deficiency being made up by importation 
from the ports of the Baltic. The only corn grown is 
bearded wheat and barley: maize, which forms the chief 
food of the lower orders, is imported mostly from the 
Mediterranean and the Cape Verde Islands. Amone 
tropical fruits, the guavas, citrons, bananas, and cus- 
tard-apples are considered even superior to those of the 
West Indies, and a very superior coffee is grown in 
wardens: the vegetables are mostly of the same kind 
as in England, and of much the same quality. 

The towns and villages are invariably situated on the 
sea-coast, generally at the outlet of a ravine; but where 
the soil is fertile, and the surface sufficiently level to 
permit it, country-seats and cottages are seen scattered 
about to.a considerable distance up the valleys. . Water 
is abundant, and of excellent quality ; springs are found 
everywhere ; and the. streams which flow down the 
ravines, fed by.the mountain mists, are never dry, even 
in summer, while the height from which they descend 
enables the inhabitants to divert their course at almost 
any elevation and in any direction; so that wherever 
the land admits of cultivation it may be irngated on all 
sides by these water-courses. On the coasts fish is abun- 
dant, and forms an important article of food to all classes. 

The capital of the island is called Funchal ; it is 
situated on the sea-coast,‘and stretches along the margin 
ofa bay about a mile and a half in length, “but scarcely 
oue-third in breadth, owing ‘to the abrupt rise of the 
mountains at the back. It is neither a handsome nor 
convenient town, though by no means so dirty as Por- 
tuzuese tow Ns usually are. This arises partly from the 
influence. of the English merchants, and partly. from 
the ‘streets being so steep that every thing finds its way 
down to the beach ; ; their cleanliness being also greatly 
assisted by a copious litt'e rivulet running down the 
ecntre, tlie sound and sight of which are ‘particularly 
prateful in a warm climate. ‘The streets “are very 
narrow, but this gives the advantage of greater shade 
to passengers (a plan on which many of the lar@e towns 
of Spain and Portugal are built), and it must be re- 
marked that wheeled carriages are not used on the 
island. 

The houses are generally low, not often exceeding 
one story ii height, and, being all whitewashed; have a 


neat and clean appearance ; “those belonging to the 
richer merchants are large and handsome. ‘They all 


have turrets elevated above the rest of the building, 


THE PENNY 


MAGAZINE, 461 
fromm which, owing to the rapid descent on which the 
town is built, a wood view of the bay and offing may 
be obtained. These towers are resorted to in order to: 
look out for vessels :—the first business of the morning 
is to mount the turret, to see if any ship has made 
her appearance since the preceding nightfall ; and as. 
every merchant has his own private sionals, the ‘names 
of both the vessel and her consignee are known long 
before she reaches the bay. 

The governor resides in the castle, a large irregular 
mass of half-modernized Gothic building, situated near 
the beach; but there is no other public building of much 
importance. The town abounds in churches, whose 
bells, on the numerous saints’ days, are very noisy ; 
and the cathedral; rather a fine edifice, has humerous 
altars and shrines, rich in gold, silver, and pearls, while 
the images of the saints are generally adorned with 
chaplets and festoons of fresh roses. It has, however, 
no ceiling, the rough unpainted rafters that form the 
roof being exposed | to view ; and the floor consists of 
nothing but loose planks, which are continually being 
removed for the purpose of depositing the remains of 
the dead beneath. Before its western door is a large 
open space, beyond which is the Terreiro da Sé, a 
promenade under four or five parallel rows of trees, 
enclosed by a wall a few feet high, with some pretty 
houses on each side, from the balconies of which tne 
ladies gaze on the gentlemen below. Beyond this is 
the market-place, which is very clean, and regularly 
laid out in streets and roofed stalls. The church of 
Nossa Senhora do Monte is the neatest on the island; 
in approaching the bay it forms a conspicuous object, 
standing on a terrace about half-way up the mountain’s 
side, and commands one of the most enchanting views 
imaginable. ‘There is an English church on the skirts 
of the town, an elegant and convenient building, lite- 
rally embosomed in ever-blooming’ roses and white 
daturas. The quintas, or country-seats of the English 
merchants, are most delightful retreats, scattered about 
in the most eligible spots among the mountains; and 
the hospitality of their owners is princely and un- 
bounded. 

But the most attractive ar the hatural beauties in the 
island is a place called the ‘‘ Corral,” situated a few 
miles to the north-west of Funchal: it isan enormous 
chasm, two miles or more in length, about half a mile 
in breadth, and about 4000 feet in depth ; it is enclosed 
on all sides by a range of stupendous mountain preci- 
pices, the sides and summits of which are broken into 
every variety of buttress and pinnacle, with occasional 
plots of the richest green turf, and a profusion of ever- 
green forest-trees, indigenous to the island,—while 
below is a fair region of cultivation and fruitfulness, 
consisting of a narrow, level plain, with a river running 
through it,—a nunnery, with its church,—and a village, 
whose white cottages seem half-smothered in the luxu- 
riance of their ewn vines and orchards. 

‘As no wheeled vehicles can be used on the island, all 
excursions made by visitors:must be performed on horses 
or mules, the owners of which have a singular custom of 
catching hold of the animal's tail. A par rty of strangers 
afford, on their hired hacks, an amusing sight, each 
dragging a man after him, who, while ihres tivists the 
tail round his left hand, goads the animal’s flanks with 
a sinall pike in his rig it, aud further stimulates it by 
shouting “ Cara, aa caval.” Vain are the en- 
deavours of the riders to rid themselves of this encum- 
brance by provoking the beast to kick; they are not 
to be so discarded, but retain their hold at the fullest 
speed of the Paine and will thus perform with ease a 
journey of from twenty-five to thirty niles. ‘The roads 

out of the town are paved causeways; to ascend them is 
well enough, but to ride down them is really frightful, 


as the muleteers insist on the rein being left slack, yet 


462 


so sure-footed are the mules, that a fall is of rare 
occurrence. The ladies are carried about in palanquins, 
which here is a sort of neat cot with curtains and pil- 
lows, swung from a single pole, and carried on the 
shoulders of two- bearers, one in front and one behind. 
The ladies of Madeira never wash their faces, and say 
that the English destroy their fine complexions by too 
much water; all cleansing js therefore performed by 
dry rubbing. If you intend to visit a lady you must 
send notice over night, and then she dresses herself as 
if for a ball,—in which costume they are frequently met 
reclining in their palanguins, generally with one foot 
hanging outside, especially if it have any claim to 
symmetry. 

A favourite visit of strangers is to the nunneries, 
where they can purchase artificial flowers and ingenious 
wax-work toys manufactured by the fair recluses. 
This traffic is carried on by means of a ‘* roundabout,” 
in which the articles for sale are placed with the prices 
affixed; the box is then turned round, the money for 
those taken placed in it, and the box again returned, 
without the exchange of a single word or look between 
the parties. 

-In addition to the many bounties which Nature has 
lavished on this beautiful island, art has contributed 
to spread its fame, for there is scarcely, in the inhabited 
regions of the globe, a spot where the delicious juice of 
its grape is unknown—its Tinta, Sercial, and Malmsey, 
which one sees carried about in such quantities through 
the streets of Funchal in the skins of goats, still re- 
taining somewhat the form of the animal, but with the 
hair inside. 

One drawback to the commerce of the island is the 
insecurity of its bay, which is exposed from west to 
south-south-east ; and though during summer the land 
and sea breezes are regular, in winter it frequently 
blows hard from the south-west, when ships are 1m- 
mediately obliged to put to sea. The water is deep, 
and the bank, which is steep, does not extend far off the 
shore; there is generally a surf on the beach, which 
makes the landing difficult and sometimes impracti- 
cable in ships’ boats. In the bay is a singular rock 
called the Loo, abont 150 yards from the shore, rising 
almost perpendicularly to the height of abont 80 feet, 
and crowned by a fort. ‘The citadel is a quadrangular 
building with bastions, to the north-west of the town ; the 
beach is fortified in front of the town with curtains and 
bastions, and there is also another fort to the eastward. 

Madeira was discovered in 1419, and has always 
continued an appanage of the Portuguese crown, with the 
exception of having been twice temporarily held by the 
English Gin 1801 and 1807) in trust for their allies 
when threatened by France. During the late civil 
war it was the last of their possessions that held out 
for Don Miguel, but on his abdication and flight the 
governor declared for Donna Maria. ‘The population 
is estimated at from 100,000 to 120,000; it is the see 
of a bishop, and its commerce consists almost exclu- 
sively of wines, of which it exports annually from 
15,000 to 17,000 pipes. 


_ The Prophetic Bird.—The former religion of. Otaheite 
instilled many superstitious ideas,.of which the most sen- 
sible of the natives even now find it difficult wholly to divest 
their minds. A remarkable instance of this is their belief 
that a small bird called Oomamoo is gifted with the powers 
of speech and prophesy; and I heard Taate and Hitotte, 
both principal chiefs, and reckoned intelligent men, declare 
that they heard this same bitd prophecy an invasion of the 
the people of Bora-Bora, adding that the chief was greatly 
incensed. These birds are also said to have called to persons 
when in the mountains, warning them of danger, and direct- 
ing them which way to take. They admit, with some regret, 
however, that since the introduction of the Christian re- 
ligion, this little prophet has become dumb,—JAZanuscript 
Journal of a Voyage, — | | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Reading.—A proper and judicious system of reading is 
of the highest importance. ‘T'wo things are necessary in 
perusing the mental labours of others ;—namely, not to 
read too much, and to pay great attention to the nature of 
what you do read. Many people peruse books for the ex- 
press and avowed purpose of consuming time; and thi 
class of readers forms by far the majority of what are 
termed the “ reading public.” Others again read with the 
laudable anxiety of being made wiser; and when this 
object is not attained, the disappoirtment may generally be 
attributed, either to the habit of reading too much, or of 
paying insufficient attention to what falls under their notice. 
—Blakey's Logic. | 


Influence of Music on the Mind.—Of the solace of music, 
nay more, of its influence upon melancholy, I need not look 
for evidence in the universal testimony of antiquity, nor re- 
mind such an audience of its recorded effect upon the gloomy 
distemper of the perverse mind of Saul. I myself have wit- 
nessed its power to mitigate the sadness of seclusion, in a 
case Where my loyalty as a good subject, and my best feel- 
ings as aman, were more than usually interested in the re- 
storation of my patient; and I also remember its salutary 
operation in the case of a gentleman in Yorkshire many 
years ago, who was first stupified, and afterwards became in- 
sane upon the sudden loss of all his property. This gentle- 
man could hardly be said to live—he merely vegetated, for 
he was motionless until pushed, and did not speak to, nor’ 
notice anybody in the house, for nearly four months. The 
first indication of a return of any sense appeared in his 
attention to music played in the street. This was observed, 
the second time he heard it, to have a more decided force in 
arousing him from his lethargy; and induced by this good 
omen, the sagacious humanity of his superintendent offered 
him a‘violin. He seized it eargerly, and amused himself 
with it constantly. After six weeks, hearing the rest of the 
patients of the house pass by his door to their common room, 
lie accosted them, “ Good morning to you all, gentlemen, 
I am quite well, and desire I may accompany you.’ In two 
months more he was dismissed cured.—Szr Henry Halford's 
Essays and Orations. 


Runic Inscriptions.—A very interesting treatise has been 
published by Professor Finn Magnussen, of Denmark, on a 
Runic inscription found at Runamo, in the circle of Ble- 
kinge or Carlscrona. The author remarks, that Runic 
stones are in general of the greatest moment in an his- 
torical point of view, and that it is most probable their 
destruction was the work either of enthusiastic missionaries, 
or newly-converted princes and chieftains, at the time when 
Christianity was first introduced, it being their object, so 
far as was practicable, to extinguish every vestige of pagan- 
ism. It is well ascertained that churches were frequently 
erected on the sites of ancient places of worship, and that 
Runic and monumental stones of Pagan origin were intro- 
duced into the foundations of ecclesiastical edifices. In the ’ 
kingdom of Denmark alone, there are known to exist at the 
present moment as many as 112 Klippen-Runen, besides » 
29 in Iceland, and 71 im those provinces in Sweden which 
once belonged to the crown of Denmark. Very recently 
two ancient#Runic stones have been discovered in Greenland, 
one in the Faroe Islands, and two tablets in stone with a 
Runic inscription, the characters of which are similar to 
those on the Klippe of Runamo. A deputation appointed 
by the Academy of Science, having last year taken an 
accurate copy Of the latter, Magnnssen, the archivarius, 
spent much time, but without success, in endeavouring to: 
decipher it.. The engraving from it having been laid before 
him for correction, a new mode of reading suddenly occurred 
to him; he began, therefore, to read it from right to left, 
and instantly aetected the meaning of the first words. In 
consequence of this discovery he was enabled, in the course 
of a couple of hours, to decipher the whole inscripfion. It 
was exccuted shortly before the battle on the Brawallahaide, 
A.D. 713; and composed by a warrior or skiald in Harold 
Hildetand’s service, who was himself one of the parties con-. 
cerned in that contest. If is conjectured that Harold's 
whole army, in whose march seven days are said to have 
been spent, halted at Runamo, and simultaneously gave 
utterance to the prayers contained in the inscription, and 
invoked a triumph in behalf of their leader.—From ihe 
Journal of Education, No. XVI, " 


[NovEMBER 29, 


18384] 


Writing.—The habit of committing our thoughts to 
writing is a powerful means of expanding the mind, and 
producing a logical and systematic arrangement of our 
Views and opinious. It is this which gives the writer a 


vast superiority as to the accuracy and extent of his con- | 


ceptions over the mere talker. No one can eyer hope to 
know the principles of any art or science thoroughly who 
does not write as well as read upon the subject.— Blakey's 
Logie. 





Inns and Conveyances in London in the Year 1684.,—An 
old book, entitled ‘ The Compleat Tradesman, London, 1684,’ 
gives a small Directory, which may afford some amusement 
to our readers, wlio may by it form some little idea how 
matters were managed in the time of their grandfathers’ 
grandfathers. The “ Alphabetical Account of ad/ the Carriers, 
Waggoners, and Stage-coaches that come to the several Inns 
in London, Westminster, and Southwark, from all parts of 
England and Wales, with the respective Days of their going 
out,’ is in ten duodecimo pages, printed in type of about 
the same size as that which the reader has before him, It 
appears that there was no more than one conveyance to any 
one place in England, and that the outgoings of the whole 
city of London (Westminster and Southwark included) were 
less than those from each of the principal inns in the pre- 
sent day. The following is the list :— 


0 0 re 33 
One. en ....8... 9 
Ne COMET... cece ee 
Thussdlay ....... 
Friday..... Ms ess s.s0. 52 
0 o2 





Motal..... 244 


[Ss SSS 


Averape... 41 


If we rate the importance of the inns (many of which now . 


exist with the same names) according to the number of 
out-goings during the week, we shall have the following 
list of the principal ones, to which the number mentioned is 
attached :— 
Castle, Smithfield ....... .ccueene 
Red Lion, Aldersgate Street....... 
Bear and Ragged Staff, Smithfield . 
Beile Sauvage, Ludgate Hill...... 
Bull, Bishopsgate Street......... 
Castle, Wood Street. Ce Oe ee 
George, Holborn Bridge ........5 
George, Aldersgate Street Cocerceeee 
Queen’s Head, Southwark ......3. 
White Swan, Holborn Bridge ..... 
Blossoms, Lawrence Lane .....%.. 
Spread Eagle, Gracechurch Street ., 


These appear to have been the principal houses of the 
kind, ° The whole number of inns mentioned is eighty-two. 
The most common signs ate ‘The Bell, which occurs six 
times, ‘ The George,’ three times, and the ‘ Cross Keys,’ 
three times. The only sign we never remeniber to have 
seem 1s the ‘ Dark House,’ the name of an init at Billings- 
gale, 


12 


ma 





HAWKING.—No. If: 
(Continued from No. 164.3 
Tue beautiful hills that rise to the horth of our vast 
metropolis,—or Haimpstead and Highgate, with the 
more gentle declivities of Hornsey in their rear, and 
more to the eastward the valley of Tottenham,— 
abounded in old times with wild boars and other eame, 
and even so late as the latter part of the reign of 
Henry VISI., with herons, pheasants, and partridges, 
This abundance of game proves the deficiency of popu- 
lation in the now crowded neighbourhood of our capital. 
he comparatively small town of London was then in 
fact surrounded by a thick belt or girdle of forest land, 


which at some points pressed closely on the suburbs of 


the town. The existence of that large aquatic bird, 
the heron, also shows that the country was very incom- 
pletely drained, and that marshes and water occupied 
spaces which we have always seen covered with pleasant 
meadows, gardens, and villas. Hawking at herons 
was, without doubt, “‘ the marvellous and delectable 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| thence to Islington, Hampstead, High 
| Park.” 


} unhappy Richard IT. 
| language, meant strictly a place where hawks were put 
j at the moulting season, and where they cast their 


| nation as to make it inapplicable. 


463 


pastime ” it is described to have been; but we cannot 
help thinking that the prevalence of fevers and arues, 
engendered by the miasma of the water and swamps 
essential to the herons, was rather a serious drawback 
on the pleasure. And the worst of this was, that all 
men were exposed to the malady, while only a feiv 
could partake in the sport. Those who suffered most 
were of course the poor who lived on the spot, or in the 
outskirts of the town, and in wretched huts; and those 
who exclusively enjoyed the benefits resulting’ from 
such a state of things were the rich. 'The wild de- 
claimers about the comforts and happiness of the pea- 
santry of ofd England will hardly fix their eolden age 
in these periods. But they will never fix their “ oood 
old times ” in any known stage of history. They change 
and shift their poor man’s Utopia about,—now brin ong 
it near to us, and now sending it off to a most remote 


|} and indefinite distance, precisely as the ancients did 


with their happy island of Atalanta, which island, as 
modern navigators have fully proved, never existed in 
any of the situations set down for it, and is not likely 
to have existed at all except in a few visionary imagi- 
nations. 

In the twenty-seventh year of his reign, Henry VIII. 
issued a proclamation in order to preserve the par- 
tridges, pheasants, and herons, “ from his palace at 
Westininster to St. Giles’s-in-the-Fields, and from 
gate, and Hornsey 
Any person, of whatsoever rank, who should 
presume to kill or in anywise molest these birds, was 


| to be thrown into prison, and visited by such other 


punishments as should seem meet to his highness the 
king. i 

It is worthy of remark that Henry VIII. removed 
the royal hawks (which had been kept there during 
many reigns) from the Mews at Charing Cross, and 
converted that place into stables. According to Stow, 
the King of England’s falcons were kept at the Mews 
in Charing Cross as early as 1377, or the time of the 
The term ‘* Mews,” in falconers’ 


feathers, ‘The name, confirmed by the usage of so 
long a period, remained to the building at Charing 
Cross, though Henry VIII. had so changed its desti- 
But what, however, 
is much more curious is this,—that when in more 


}modern times the people of London began to build 


ranges of stabling at the back of their streets and 
houses, they christened these places ‘* Mews,” after the 
old stabling at Charing Cross, which, as we have shown, 
was misnamed from the times the hawks were with- 
drawn from it. In accidental modes like this many an 
old word is turned from its original meaning, which 
eventually is altogether lost. 

We have already mentioned the high prices paid for 
hawks, the great expense attending keeping them, and 
the paramount estimation in which birds of a fine 
breed, and well reclaimed and enlured, were held. 
In one work we have consulted, it is stated that, in the 
reign of James I., Sir Thomas Monson eave 10007. for 
a cast of hawks, Hawks were sent as royal tokens of re- 
eard from kings to kings, and seem to have formed a 
customary present from the sovereien to the ambassador 
of a friendly power. We shall have to show that the 
last-mentioned usage is to be traced to the extremity 
of Eastern Asia. The greatest falconer of modern 
times was one of the Lord Orfords, who died towards 
the close of the last century. This nobleman, reviving 
an obsolete taste, had his mews and hawks, ‘and .a 
regular establishment of falconers. His necessary 
outlay was very great. He is said to have incurred an 
expense of 100d. per annum for every hawk he kept. 
Bach hawk had its separate attendant,—they all were 


464 


‘sent on occasional voyages to the continent for the sake 
of a more congenial atmosphere during their time of 
moulting, and for the better preservation of the plu- 
mage and courage of the hawks. This Lord Orford 
was accustomed to kill hares as well as birds with his 
hawks. In more ancient times casts of hawks were 
bequeathed as valuable and honourable legacies, the 
perticular clause in the last will and testament being 
often accompanied by a prayer or injunction, that the 
lewatee should behave “ kindly and dutifully ” by the 


said birds. + | 

The Grand Falconer was one of the most ilustrious 
officers: of the royal courts of Europe. The * Grand 
Fauconnier ”, of France had 4000 florins per anniwm, 
was allowed 300 hawks, and had 50 gentlemen and 50 
attendants to follow him. He rode out with the king 
on all grand.occasions. Froissart informs us, that, 
when Edward IIT. was carrying on his destructive wars 
in France, he had with him 30 falconers on. horseback 
who had charge of his hawks, and that every day he 
either went out hunting, or up the rivers to hawk. 

The English kings, in whose courts the office became 
hereditary, probably borrowed the idea of having a 
orand falconer from the French. ‘The present Duke of 
St. Albans is, by right of birth, ‘* Grand Falconer of 
England ;’ for, like so many other court offices, the 
name and dignity remain when the employments are 
gone and altogether obsolete. Scotland also has her 
hereditary grand falconer. The Duke of St. Albans 
keeps several casts of fine hawks. These bold and 


sagacious-looking birds are’ often to be seen during 


his Grace’s winter sojourn at Brighton, where they | 


are exposed for the amusement of the public in Re- 
sency Square, and occasionally flown on the Downs. 
In deficiency of proper game, a certain number of un- 
fortunate, pigeons are taken to the spot selected, in 
bags, and there thrown off,. one or two at a time, to be 
pursued by the falcons. Some of the Duke’s falcons 
seem well-trained, but of course they are not seen 
to advantage with such quarry, and the sport is ra- 
ther tame. .The scene, however, with the mounted 
falconers clad in forest-green—with antique hat and 
feathers—with the hawk hooded on the fist, or undressed 
and about to be cast-off, or answering to the lure and 


birds, and assist the conception of what hawking was 
when it had all its “* appliances and means to boot.” 
“The frequent mention of rivers in the history, ro- 


recent times, seems to indicate that herons and other 
water-fowl afforded the best diversion. When a river 
or brook frequented’ by game ran between high banks, 
or.was overlooked by hills, it was customary for a 


sportsman, with dog's well-trained to the work, to go | 


along by the.water’s side, while the rest of the party, 
mounted, and each with his hawk on his fist, cantered 
over. the high ground above the stream. As the dogs 
started the game from the stream, or its rushy banks, 
the falconers above prepared to cast-off their hawks at 
it.” In case of ‘its being a wild duck, or any smaller 
water-fowl, the hawk, descending from its elevation, 
grappled, or, as falconers say, bound it at.once, without 


having ‘any. necessity for “ the mount,” or upward | - 


flight. . We’ give, at the end of. this. article, another 
wood-cut from Reidinger, which shews the capture -of 

the quarry. ee ~ a 
_We have only to look at our:old literature for abun- 

, a iak ° 2 i t ; ; . 
dant proofs of the passion for and prevalence of hawk- 
ing. No art or craft whatsoever has more copiously 
contributed to ‘the figurative language, proverbs, and 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[November 29, 1834. 


complete mine of metaphor. . Our poets, from Chaucer 
to Spenser and Shakspeare, and down to those of more 
modern times, continually derived figures, illustrations, 
and comparisons from this gentle. craft. ‘Chose who 
are at all familiar with the works of our immortal 
dramatist will instantly recall many instances of this 
habit. Nor were our English poets at all peculiar in 
this practice. The same obtained among the old 
writers of France, Spain, and (perhaps in a more 
marked degree) amoung the old Italian poets. The 
ereat Dante abonnds in terms of falconry, and similes 
and allusions drawn from the same source; and so also 
does Petrarch. ; 

The popular proverbs and sayings derived from fal- 
conry are not wholly extinct among country-people, 
though their origin is seldom thought of, and their 
original meaning frequently perverted. It is a com- 
mon thing to hear country-people designate a dull, 
stupid fellow as one ‘ that can’t tell a hawk from a 
handsaw,”’—the proper reading of which would he— 
“ who can’t tell a hawk from a hernshaw, or hernsaw ,;” 
“ hernshaw,” or “ hernsaw,” being for many ages the 
popular ‘name for “ heron,” and so used by Spenser, 
and other English writers. The proverb is as old as 
the time of Shakspeare, who puts the words in the — 
mouth of Hamlet. _ - 


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House of Lords in the time of George II.] 


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466 


In. pursuance of the plan sketched generally in No, 168 
of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ we shall now endeavour ‘to 
bring into one view such information as seems to us 
most interesting in connexion with ‘the House of Lords, 
résérving for a futire oécasion a similar statement with 
reeard to the House of Commons. _ 
“The writer of avery instructive essay, published in 
1716, under the title of * An Enquiry into the Original 
Constitution of Parliaments in England and Scotland,’ 
says that “ for many ages all laws were hothing else 
but the king’s answers to the petitions presented to him 
and his council, as is apparent by many old statutes and 
the confession of Sir Edward Coke.” The fact seems 
to: be, that the legislative power rested essentially in 
the sovereion, who did not consult his great council on 
all. public measures, but only assembled them oc- 
casionally to obtain their concurrence when the measure 
in. contemplation was such as could not easily be 
carried into effect but through their agency, or with 
their consent. , 

Without going back to the times of Saxon rule 
in. this country, it should be recollected that, at 
least after the Conquest, the territory was chiefly in 
the hands of military tenants holding immediately of 
the crown estates of various extent. Some possessed 
immense tracts, having many subordinate holders, while 
others held estates inferior to those which were in 
the hands. of the vassals of the great proprietors ; 
but the holding directly from the crown constituted 
an. honour and distinction which entitled the person 
to:-a voice in the great council. When ‘ Domes- 
day Book’ was compiled there were about 700 such 
persons; but alfhough all were equally, by virtue of 
their tenures, entitled to be consulted in the business 
of the nation, if appears that only the person holding a 
barony—that is, the more wealthy and powerful of those 
military tenants—exercised the right. The rest were 
excused—and were glad to be excused—on the score 
that their means were inadequate to enable them to 
incur the serious expense of meeting the king be- 
comingly in the great council. The same right was 
possessed by the heads of the church, that is, not only 
the bishops, but certain abbots and priors, who claimed, 
as: heads of extensive monastic establishments, ri@hts 
and privileges separate from, and independent of, the 
bishops, by whom therefore their interests could not be 
represented. rl 

This was the original House of Lords,—and not only 
the House of Lords, but the Parliament, for there was 
no other house. The people were of no account in 
those days; and if they were at all thought of, their 
interests were supposed to .be sufficiently represented 
by. the barons, who stood in the relation of petty sove- 
reigns to the knights and gentlemen holding estates 
of them, while the tradesmen and inhabitants of towns 
occupied a position of dependence on the same barons 
which was little less than servile. ) 

To understand properly why the voice of the great 
body of the people was not heard in the national council 

if it.might be called such—we should a little consider 
the relative circumstances in which they were placed. In 
these times the most considerable “ boroughs” were very 
different from the towns and boroughs of the present day ; 
and the inhabitants were mostly small tradesmen who 
lived together in the same neighbourhood without any 
particular civil tie, and ‘‘ were not,” says Hume, “ even 
regarded as a body politic.” The same writer, whom 
we! here quote rather for his facts than his opinions, 
illustrates the condition of the burgesses of those times 
by stating, after Holinshed, that the superior lord was 
equally prohibited by the feudal law from marrying his 
ward to aburgess or toa villain (slave). ‘This fact 
shows very strikingly the estimation in which these two 


classes; forming fhe bulk of the population, were held ;} 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[NovEMBER 30, 


while it precludes any surprise at their political position, 
and accounts for the circumstance that the. nistories of 
those periods find no occasion to notice them, and give 
us reports only of the kings, the nobles, and the clergy 
—their foreign wars and domestic quarrels, When 
they are brought under our notice, it is as objects for 
whose protection the barons condescend to introduce a 
clause into some grant or’ charter extorted from the 
crown. We shall have another opportunity of stating 
more fully such facts as illustrate the early condition of 
the Commons; but it is desirable here to notice that 
the first representatives of the people were peers, twelve 
in number; and when afterwards men of inferior rank 
were admitted, their tone was most subdued and 
humble; they declined to interfere in great questions 
of state, and on several occasions could bring their 
deliberations to no other conclusion than that they 
would advise the King to abide by the counsel of the 
Lords. Even after the Commons began to be con- 
sulted, they were only occasionally summoned—that 1s, 
only when the question was of peculiar interest to thie 
communities they represented; and from the great 
annoyance they expressed when they were required to 
declare their opinions on general subjects of state—or 
questions of peace and war—it seems likely that, even 
when summoned reeularly to the Parliament, they only 
sat and voted with the Peers on particular questions. 

It is amusing and instructive to contrast this position 
with that to which the Commons had attained even in 
Elizabeth’s reign, when they ventured to engage with 
the Lords in controversies about forms. “ ‘They com- 
plained that the Lords failed in civility to them by 
receiving their messages sitting with their hats on; and 
that the keeper returned an answer in the same neg- 
ligent posture; but the upper house proved to their full 
satisfaction, that they were not entitled, by custom and 
the usage of Parliament, to any more respect. Some 
amendments were made by the Lords in a bill sent up 
by the Commons ; and these amendments were written 
on parchment, and returned with the bill to the Com- 
mons. The lower house took umbrage at the novelty ; 
they pretended that these amendments ought to have 
been written on paper, not on parchment; and they 
complained of this innovation to the Peers. ‘The Peers 
replied that they expected not such a frivolous objection 
from the gravity of the house; and that it was not 
material whether the amendments were written on 
parchment or paper, or whether the paper were white, 
black, or brown. ‘The Commons were offended at this 
reply, which seemed to contain a mockery of them ; 
and they complained of it, though without obtaining 
any satisfaction*.” . 

The cause which induced the sovereigns to summon 
the barons and prelates (and this cause ultimately pro- 
cured the Commons also to be summoned) was ob- 
viously because they despaired of giving effect to mea- 
sures to which a previous consent had not been 
obtained. Hence they had, on most occasions, reason 
to conclude that the subjects to be brought under their 
consideration would not be of the most pleasant de- 
scription to themselves, and the sovereign had, there- 


fore, often much difficulty in obtaining their attendance, 


notwithstanding his apologies for the necessity of re- 
quiring their presence, ‘“‘ The attendance was considered 
an irksome business, and a nuisance to be avoided. 
The strong; the cunning, and the weak, devised re- 
spective methods to ease themselves of the troublesome 
duty. ... ‘The earls and barons occasionally refused 
attendance, or rendered their appearance so unwelcome 


by approaching in fighting attitudes, that the king not 


unfrequently declined the honour of their visit and 


advice, or stipulated that their coming should be unac- 
-companied by warlike preparationsf.’ They came the 


** Hume, chap. 42, + Westminster Review, Oct. 1834. 


1834.] 


most readily when it was their determination less to de- 
liberate on the king’s proposals, than to force on his 
consideration proposals of their own. 

We stated generally, in the former Number, that the 
early Parliaments were seldom held twice consecutively 
in the same town. “ The constitution of King, Lords, 
and Commons,” says the lively writer in the ‘ West- 
minster Review,’ ‘* was accustomed to scamper as fast 
as the state of the roads would admit, all over the king- 
dom, from Berwick-npon-Tweed to the Land’s End. 
Within one year it would hold its parliamentary sittings 
at Carlisle and Westminster; in the following year at 
Exeter and Norwich, or at Lincoin and Worcester.” 
Again, “ Not only weve the early Parliaments holden in 
different towns, but they frequently moved from place to 
place daily during the session. The Parliament at Lin- 
coln, in the 9th Edward II., was holden on the 12th of 
February in the hall of the dean, on the 13th in the 
Chapter House, and on the 14th in the convent of the 
Carmelite Friars.” The same writer thinks that the 
fixation of Parliament at Westminster must have ope- 
rated very injuriously upon the towns which lost the 
privilege of occasionally entertaining the Court and Par- 
liament. It is, however, quite as likely that the country 
towns were heartily glad to be weil rid of the occa- 
sional visitations of these imperious and turbulent 
senators and their insolent and riotons retainers; and 
although trade must in those towns have been quick- 
ened for the time, it may be well doubted whether, in the 
long run, the flux and reflux, the excitements and false 
calculations induced by temporary prosperity, and the 
uncertainty where the Parliament would next meet, did 
not concur to render those visits sources of more harm 
than good even to the local tradesmen themselves. It 
is perfectly clear that the country generally was never 
the better for their movements. 

We do not imagine that the House of Parliament— 
that is, the Peers—formed in those days a very nume- 
rous assembly in itself, although the barons usually 
came with such large retinues of knights, gentlemen, 


= Pf lee 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


and inferior followers as brought a great concourse to | 


the place where they met. Perhaps the number at any 
previous period was never so great, or at least greater, 
than at the accession of James I., by which time the 
reions of the Tudor dynasty had repaired the diminu- 
tion which the wars of York and Lancaster had occa- 
sioned in their number. James I., on his accession, 
found that the number of the English peers amounted 
to fifty-nine. The great increase which took place 
during little more than a century after will be best 
Shown by the following table, which is taken from a 
scarce little work, published in 1719, under the title of 
“Two Lists, showing the alterations which have taken 
place in the House of Commons from the beginning of 
the reign of Henry VIII. to the end of that of King 
James I., and in the House of Lords from the accession 
of James I. to this time.” 


Meeting ti... Mm 59 Extinct. ‘Additions. 

Weeemee Te created g...0. G2 ..-..ecees | ee 45 
SO OS oS ae 5 i) a 38 
Chries JT... .. 00. es gn at 5s 11 
i A 2 OP 0 
Pvmeem end Mary..... 30 ......0055 2 RES o 5s 9 
IE ee SO ww eo ele 24 wc ceesceee 6 
ST ss 20 ce veces es 10 cece... 10 
ae 154 119 

Deduct Extinctions... 154 


Peers in 1719 .....6- 178 


From that period up to the present time, the rate of 
increase has been nearly in the same proportion. The 
present Enelish peerage consists of 25 dukes, 19 mar- 
quesses, 117 earls, 16 viscounts, 179 barons, exclusive 
of 16 Scotch and 28 Irish peers, who now form compo- 


467 


two archbishops and 24 English and 4 Irish representa. 
tive bishops, compose a total of 430 peers in Parliament. 

The powers and privileges ef the Lords, as a branch 
of the legislature at the present time, and the forms 
observed in their assemblies, are, upon the whole, simi- 
lar to those of the Commons, which we shall have ano- 
ther occasion to mention. A few pecnharities may be 
stated. As an integral part of the legislature of the 
empire, the consent of a majority of the peers is neces- 
sary to give effect to any law; but they have a privilege, 
not possessed by the Commons, of voting by proxy, 
without personal attendance. The peers, in each seve- 
ral rank, take place according to the date of creation ; 
and in voting, those of the lowest rank first declare 
their opinion in the words “ Content” or “‘ Not content.” 
On state occasions, the peers seat themselves in the 
house according to their rank; but in general no parti- 
cular order is observed, except that of the “ ministerial” 
or “ opposition” side of the house. The Peers always 
bow towards the throne on entering thie house, which 
would seem to imply that the king is always supposed 
to be present. He, however, rarely attends except ‘at 
the opening or close of a Parliament, or one of its 
sessions. On such occasions, after the kine is seated 
on the throne, the Lords sit down, but without beine 
covered. ‘The Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod is 
then sent by the king ‘to command the attendance of 
the Commons, who, on their arrival, stand at the bar to 
hear the king’s speech. The substance of this speech 
is addressed generally to both estates, in the words 
‘“’ My Lords and Gentlemen ;’ but towards the middle, 
there is always a part, relating to finance, specially ad- 
dressed to the “‘ Gentlemen of the House of Commons.” 
This is because no money bill, or a bill imposing a tax, 
can originate in the House of Lords; and when such a 
bill is sent up from the Commons, the peers must either 
agree to it or reject it altogether, for the least alteration 
is considered fatal to it. In such cases it is the usual 
practice for the Commons to introduce a new bill, in 
which the amendments suggested by the peers are 
incorporated. 

Besides its legislative character, the House of Lords 
has a judicial character. It is a court of appeal from 
the judgments of all other courts; and its decision 
is final. [t is also the supreme ‘court of ¢riminal 
jurisprudence, in which character it has cognizance 
of treason and other high crimes committed by Peers 
and others; and also tries persons impeached by the 
House of Commons. The Peers acquit or condemn 
without taking any oath, but simply declare, upon their 
honour, that the accused is ‘ Guilty,’ or ‘ Not 
Guilty.” Such trials, when of great interest or im- 
portance, usually take place in Westminster Hall. 

After the separation of the Peers from ‘the Commons 
in Parliament, the former continued‘ to sit in Westmin- 
ster Hall; and we have been unable to ascertain at 
what precise period they removed ‘to the apartment 
which they afterwards occupied. Stowe, who is seldom 
Wanting in information on such points, mentions’ no 
definite period. He only says: “ and ‘now, of @ long 
time, the place of the sitting of Parliament remains’ in 
the said ancient palace: the Lords in a fair room, and 
the Commons in that which was formerly St. Stepheui’s 
Chapel.” “This “‘ fair room” was the’ old House of 
Lords, which was situated near Westminster Hall 
by the Painted Chamber and Court of Requests. We 
have already traced the locality of the Lords to the 
house lately destroyed; and the apartment previously 
occupied seeins, in its interior arrangements, very much 
to have resembled that subsequently prepared for their 
reception, the principal difference consisting in the 
wreater size of the Jatter, the old house being an oblong 
apartment of scarcely half its dimensions. A com- 


nent parts of that branch of the legislature, and with the | parison of our two engravings will exhibit small differ- 


30 2 


468 


ences of detail much better thah atiy verbal description. 
The old apartment was considered spacious, lofty, 
every way adapted to its purposes, until the Union with 
Ireland brought an accession to the numbers compos- 
ing the House of Lords, and made more extensive ac- 
commodations necessary. In every description of this, 
as well as the more modern room, the tapestry, to which 
we have already devoted a’ separate article, formed | 
a prominent subject. The wood-cut in page 465 
represents this building in the time of George II. 

We have already had ‘occasion to mention that the 
recent House of Lords was’ formed out-of what had for- 
merly been the Court of Requests. “It is supposed that 
originally, and before the erection of Westminster Hall, 
this apartment was the great hall of the palace. In the 
time‘of Richard II. it is found described by the naine of 
Whiteliall, as it is also in 1429: for John of Gaunt 
is recorded to have sat as seneschal in the Whitehall of 
the King’s Palace, near the King’s Chapel, which can- 
not agree with any room so well as this, for the purpose 
of determining claims previous to the coronation of 
Richard II., and in 1429, on the day of the coronation 
of Henry VI.; the prince of Portugal’s son was knighted 
“1. the’ Whitehall -at’ Westminster. In 1193 the then 
king is represented as sitting at dinner at Westminster, 
in that’ Hall of his which was called the Little Hall, 
probably this ; ‘and the denomination was apparently 
given to it to distinguish it from the present Westmin- 
ster Hall. Sir Edward Coke speaks of the apartment 
as the Court of Requests, or the Whitehall, thus show- 
ing the identity of the place denoted by tliese names. 

According to Stow, the Court of Requests was In- 
stituted in the reign of Henry VIL. but the date of its 
abolition is not precisely indicated.. We shall quote 
the.account given by the writer we have named :— 
“At the upper end of the Great Hall by the King’s 
Bench is'a going up-to a great chamber called the 
Whitehall, wherein’ is‘ now kept the court of wards and 
liveries. * * And adjoining thereunto is-the Court 
of Requests.’ Both these are now also dissolved. A 
few words concerning this last-named court. In this 
court all suits made.to the King or Queen, by way of 
petition, were- heard and ended. This was called the. 
© Poor Man’s Court,’. because there he could have right 
without paying any money.: And it was also called the 
‘ Court of Conscience.’ The judges of . this court were 
called the ‘ Masters of Requests ;? one for the common 
laws and the other for the civil laws; and I find that 
it was a court of equity, after the nature of the Chancery, 
but inferior to it.*.* * The chief judge was commonly 
the Lord Privy Seal, and the Court-Bishops and Chap- 
lains, and other great’ courtiers, were the judges and 
masters*,”’ ins an i’ 

Pennant, who wrote not many years before the apart- 
ment was appropriated to its recent uses, said :—" It 
is a vast room modernized; at present a mere walking- 
place: The outside of the south end shows the great 
antiquity of the building, having in it two great round 
arches with zigzag mouldings, our most ancient species 
of architecture.” , : "4 

We have already described the interior appearance of 
this apartment as afterwards prepared for the reception 
of the Peers, and as it appeared previously to the late 
fire. “We shall, therefore, now. proceed to mention 
some topographical features of that portion of the mass 
of palatial: buildings to which our present statement 
particularly refers. | : : 

On the eastern side of those buildings was, and is still, a 
passage now called Parliament Place, which at one time 
led from Old Palace Yard to the water; but the end of 
which was in the early part of this century closed by a 
wall. To the west of this passage, at the south-east corner 

of Old Palace Yard, stands the end of the Prince's 
* Strype’s Stow; 6th edit. 1755+ vol, 11, p. 630, 
























MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


and | as the way to the House of 


{| NovEMBER 30, 


Chamber, inté which the eritrance tsed by his Majesty 
Lords immediately leads ; 
farther on, on the east side, was the Court of Requests,. 
which, since the Union with Ireland, has been the 
House of Lords, the principal entrance to which was 
from the passage at the south end of Westminster Hall, 
which passage at once served to connect the H all with 
the two houses of Lords and Commons, and as a way 
to them all from Old Palace Yard. Behind the 
Prince’s Chamber and the Court of Requests, (or most 
recent House of Lords), or, more properly, extending 
north and south between the Prince’s Chamber and the 
Painted Chamber, stood the old House of Lords. In 
this part there were many other nameless rooms which, 
with the old House of Lords, the Painted Chamber, 
the Court of Requests, the Prince’s Chamber, and a 
number of cellars under the whole mass of building, 
were undoubtedly parts of the ancient palace. 
On the left hand, in the passage called “ Parhament 
Place,” is the south side of the Prince’s Chamber; 
beyond which, to the east of that chamber, there was a 
small enclosed court; and in the farther corher of that 
court, very near the Prince’s Chamber, through which, 
and turning to the left through another door-way, was 
the immediate way into the cellar where the Powder- 
plot was intended to have taken effect. This cellar is 
imagined to have been the kitchen of the old palace of 
Edward the Confessor, a circumstance which the Earl 
of Northampton, who presided ‘at the trial of Garnet the 
Jesuit,—for his share in the Powder-plot,—stated that 
he had ascertained by ancient records. “At-one end of 
the east side of this cellar there was a door-way with a 
triangular arch, as it is called ; and atthe other end was 
a square door-way within a semicircular arch, and. it 
was through this door-way that Guy Fawkes intended 
to have escaped from the destruction with. which he 
purposed to overwhelm the estates of the kingdom. 
- When the: action itself: had been determined: upon 
by the conspirators, Percy, one of them, hired : for 
their use a house in Westminster, nearly adjoining 
the Parliament, and there they: began to make their 
mine about the llth of December, 1604. . The situa- 
tion of this house was a little to the north of the 
Kine’s Entrance ‘to the Pririce’s Chamber, and. its 
south-east corner was joined by the. Prince’s Chamber 
and a cellar under‘it; which cellar at that time belonged 
to the house standing there, and was undoubtedly that 
where this affair commenced. ‘ Guy Fawkes, in his con- 
fession, says, that when he came to the very foundation 
of the wall of: the house, which was: about three yards 
thick, and found the work one of great difficulty, they 
took to them Robert Winter. He adds;: that it was 








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they held possession, because it was directly: under the 
Parliament, or rather under the House of Lords, at 
whose bar the Commons would be standing to hear the 
King’s speech, at the time when it was intended that 
the plot should take effect. In this newly-acquired 
cellar they laid twenty barrels of gunpowder, which, 
to prevent discovery, they covered with billets and 
faggots. To this number they afterwards added four- 
teen more barrels, making altogether thirty-four, or, 
as Sir Edward Coke stated at the trial of the con- 
spirators; thirty-six barrels. Until the astonishing 


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thickness and strength of the stone walls are considered, 
this quantity of powder must seem much beyond what 
was requisite for the immediate purpose. We have 
already seen Fawkes describing a wall as nine feet 
thick; and others have been found, by actual admea- 
sureinent, to be nearly seven feet thick. ‘The size of 
the cellar was seventy-seven feet long by twenty-four feet 
four inches wide ; if, therefore, the force of the powder 
had not been sufficient to blow all these stone-walls to 
pieces, the explosion would have spent its strength 
through the doors without affecting the buildings above. 
The whole was intended to have been kindled by a train 
or match which would burn a certain time before it took 
effect, allowing Fawkes sufficient time to escape through 
the doors and courts, and down Parliament Place to the 
water-side, where a boat would have been in readiness 
to take him across to Lambeth. 


The exact spot where Winter, Rockwood, Cayes, 


and Fawkes were executed is not wenerally known; but 
Smith, in the ‘ Antiquities of Westminster,’ quotes a 


pamphlet, contemporary with the event, willie says 
that they were brought from the Tower to the Old 
Palace in Westminster over against the Parliament 
House, and there executed. 

We have spoken of the Gunpowder-plot dpmeyhat 
out of its chronological order for the sake of mentioning 
it in connexion a the immediate scene of operations 
which were so happily frustrated on the eve of accom- 
plishment. We may now proceed to notice more briefly 
some other circumstances which occur among our re- 
collections of the upper house of Parliament. The 
first of these circumstances probably occurred hefore 
the removal of the assembly from Westminster Hall; 
but it may be noticed as a curious illustration of the 
spirit of parliamentary proceedings In early times, when 
‘‘ debates were carried on more by the eloquence of the 
fist than of the tongue,” and when private broils more 
frequently engaged attention than measures,of public 
intportance. 

In the last year but one ‘of Richard ITI.’s reign, the 
Duke of Hereford appeared in Parliament and accused 
the Duke of Norfolk of having spoken to him, um pri- 
vale conversation, slanderously and treasonably of the 
king and his intentions. Norfolk denied the charge,— 
gave Hereford the lie, and offered to prove his innocence 
by single combat with the accuser. The Parliament, 
thinking it mght to take cognizance of this transaction, 
but not caring to prolong its session for the purpose, 
delegated its authority to a committee. With the con- 
currence of the king, and apparently of ‘this committee, 
every preparation was made for a grand duel between 
ihe parties, in the presence of the chief authorities of 
.the kingdom: but at the last moment, when the com- 
batants were already front to front, the king, with the 
advice and authority of the commissioners, interposed 
to prevent the effusion of ‘blood; and, to show his 
impartiality, sentenced the antagonist Peers to banish- 
iment, from which Hereford soon returned to pluck the 
crown from the head of his weak and miseuided cousin. 

In the early part of the year 1478, King Edward IV. 
appeared in the House of Lords to plead his own cause 
against his brother, the easy Duke of Clarence, 
against whom no charge was brought but that of 
having used certain ee expressions, which, if true, 
seem ‘to prove uothing more than his careless and in- 

cautious disposition. “But the truth of the charge was 
proved by no adequate evidence; the duke was declared 
euilty by the Peers, and the Commons petitioned for 
his execution, and passed a bill of attainder against 
him. The king favoured his brother with:the choice 
of the manner in which he would die, and, in pursuance 
of his choice, he was drowned in a butt of malmsey in 
the Lower. Hume, in a just remark on this transac- 
tion, well hits off the parliamentary spirit of that period. 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[November 30, 


‘The measures of the Parliament during that age furnish 
us with examples of a strange mixture of freedom and 
servility ; they scrupled to erant, and sometimes refused, 
to the king the smallest supplies, the most necessary to 
the support of the government, even the most necessary 
for the maintenalce of wars, for which the nation as 
well as the Parliament itself expressed great fondness. 
But they never scrupled to concur in the most flagrant 
act of injustice or tyranny, which fell on any individual, 
however distinguished by birth or menit.” 

The same historian remarks that this spirit lasted 
more than a century longer. Among other proofs of 
this, their treatment of Wolsey may be meutioned. 
No sooner had the capricious Henry VIII. withdrawn: 
his favour from that able but ambitious minister, than 
the House of Lords came forward with a charge of 
forty-four articles against him, and petitioned for his 
punishment and removal from add authority. ‘Thomas 
Cromwell, then a member of the House of Commons, 
but formerly a servant of the cardinal, and “ among the 
faithless faithful only found,” stocd up in the lower 
house to defend his benefactor. This Cromwell we find, 
a few years after, sitting in the upper house as Earl of 
Kssex, Knight ve the Garten Vicar-general, Lord Privy. 
Seal, Lord Chamberlain, and Master of the Wards, and 
was declared by his Peers in that house, among other. 
flatteries, to be “worthy, by his desert, of being vicar- 
eeneral of the universe.” A few d days after, “this so 
worthy man was sentenced in the same house to death, ' 
without trial, or examination of any evidence against lim. 

A few years before this last event, in the same reign, 
Queen Anne Boleyn lifted up her hands towards 
heaven, before a jury of twenty-six peers, and cried 
aloud, ‘“‘O Father! O Creator! thou art the way, the 
truth, and the life, tow knowest that I have not de- 
served this fate !’—the fate of being burned or beheaded | 
at the king's pleasure, to which she had just been sen- 
tenced by those peers. In the session of Parliament 
which commenced in April, 1540, none of the abbots 
were allowed to sit in the House of Lords. This natu- 
rally followed from the suppression of the greater 
monasteries, which had previously taken place. 

The Parliaments in those days do not appear to have 
wasted much time in debate. Except when the sove- 
reion wanted a grant of money, they rarely hesitated to 
comply at once with the wishes of the court. Hence, 
although during the long reign of Henry VIII. there 
were ten Parliaments, which held twenty-three sessions, 
—the time which they sat did not altogether exceed 
three years and a half. 

In 1549 a bill of attainder was brought into the 
House of Lords against the protector Somerset's ain- 
bitious brother, Seymour. ~ He had demanded a fair 
and open trial; but none of all his friends in the house 
stood up to support his demand, though many rose to 
say what they knew against him. ‘Three years after, 
Somerset himself, whose ruin involved that of many of 
his friends, was tried by the Peers, who acquitted him 
of treason; but, to the great regret of the people, 
sentenced him to death on the charge of intending a 
felonious assault on the Privy Council. 

On the opening of the first Parliament of Queen 
Mary, the court directed mass to he celebrated before 
both houses, with all the ancient rites and ceremonies 
which had been abolished by Act of Parliament, 
Taylor, Bishop of Lincoln, having vefused to kneel 
when the host was elevated, met with very severe treat- 
ment, and was violently thrust out of the house. ‘The 
Parliamentary history of the following year was re- 
markable for the steady resistance of | “both houses of 
Parliament to the desire of the Queen to be invested 
with the power of appointing her successor, with almost 
the avowed intention of nominating her husband, the 


King of Spain. 


1834.] 


We have already mentioned a little contest about 
forms which took place between the Lords and Commons 
in the reign of Elizabeth; and as we are now rather 
mentioning historical recollections than legislative mea- 
surcs, we may mention the trials of the Earls of Essex. 
and Southampton by the Peers as one of the most 
interesting local events of that reign. The trial was s. 


fair one for the times, and is rendered the more remark-: § 


able to us by the circumstance that Bacon, who had no 
official duty to perform, and had lived on terins of 


private friendship with Essex, was one of the most! 
It is | 
not pleasant to mention the infirmities of such a man | 
as Bacon ; but the most interesting, and, at the same |! 
tine, the most afflicting local association we can find { 
for the reien of James I., is that he, then Visconnt St. § 


active of the lawyers opposed to him on this trial. 


Albans and Lord High Chancellor of England, was 
impeached by the Commons at the bar of the House of 
Lords, and was obliged to confess with shame and 
sorrow, that his hands—the hands of the first judge 
in the land—were unclean. 

In the reion of Charles I. (1626), the Karl of Bristol 
appeared in the House of Lords, though forbidden by 


the king to attend, and accused the Duke of Bucking-| 


ham of high treason. ‘The most interesting judicial 
business which the Peers had to perform during this 


reign, consisted in the trials of the Earl of Strafford | 


and of Archbishop Laud, both of whom where con- { 
Seven | 


demned by small majorities in very thin houses. 
Peers alone voted on Laud’s trial. At this time the 


Commons were paramount, and their will could not be { 


@ainsaid. Uience they passed a vote, declaring it trea- 
son in a kine to levy war against Ins Parlament, and 
appointing a high court of justice to try Charles for 
this treason, they sent the vote up te the Peers. The 






upper house had then become of no account, and very | 


few of its members were in the habit of attending. On 
that day there was rather a fuller attendance than usual, 
there being sixteen Peers present, who immediately and 
unanimously rejected the vote of the Commons, and 
adjourned themselves for ten days. 
days had passed, the Kine had been tried and_ he- 
headed. When the Peers met again according to 
adjournment, they entered upon business, and sent 
«lown some votes to the Commons, of which the latter 
took no notice; but a few days afterwards they passed a 
vote that they would make no more addresses to the 
Honse of Peers, nor receive any from them; and that 
that house was useless and dangerous, and was therefore 
to be abolished. __ 

Cromwell created several lords, and wished to have 
a House of Peers; but none of the old Peers would 
attend, and the attempt was altogether a signal failure. 
Sir Arthur Hazelrig and some other of the new Peers 
preferred to sit in the House of Commons, which re- 
tased to acknowledge the jurisdiction of the other 
house. 

The Peers resumed their functions without opposi- 
tion in the Parliament which recalled Charles II. At 
one time during that reign the anger of the Commons 
Was excited by the refusal of the Peers to commit the 
Earl of Clarendon on their impeachment; but after he 
had escaped to France, they concurred with the lower 
house in the measures taken against him. A suhse- 
quent dispute between the two houses, which arese 
from an attempt of the-Peers to make some amend- 
ments in a money bill sent up by the Commons, obliged 
the king to prorogue the Parliament. When the next 
king, James II., fled with the intention of escaping to 
France, the bishops and Peers who were then in town 
assumed, for the time, the administration of the govern- 
ment, and took such measures as they judged necessary 
for the public welfare; and afterwards acted in concur- 
rence with the Commons in the final settlement of the 
Crown, 


Before the ten | 
of its existence many historical associations cannot have 


| place. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 47} 


‘There were some trials before the Lords of consj- 

derable interest in the following reigns, such as that of 
Dr. Sacheverell, in the reigen of Queen Anne, and those 
of Atterbury bishop of Rochester, the Earl of Maccles- 
field, and the Earl of Oxford, in the reign of George I. 
Oxford, who was prime minister under Queen Anne, 
was impeached by the Commons; but as they were 
prevented by a misunderstanding with the Lords, from 
appearing to support the accusation on the trial, he was 
acquitted. But the Duke of Ormond and Lord Boling- 
broke, who were also impeached but did not surrender, 
had their.names erased from the list of pecrs; inven- 
tories were taken of their personal estates; and the 
Duke’s achievements as Knight of the Garter were taken 
down from St. George’s Chapel at Windsor. Boling- 
broke was afterwards pardoned. 
' ‘The wood-cut at page 469 is after a painting by Mr. 
Copley, the father of the present Lord Lyndhurst, and 
represents a circnmstance which took place in the House 
of Lords in the year 1778, when the Earl of Chatham 
left the bed to which he had been confined by sickness 
and the infirmities of age, to appear once more in the 
Honse which his eloquence had so often thrilled. He 
spoke with the ardour of his best days on the motion of 
the Duke of Richmond for an address to his Majesty 
on the state of the nation. After having concluded, he 
listened with much impatience and restlessness to the 
reply, and attempted to rise in order to answer; but, 
after two or three unsuccessful efforts to stand, he 
fainted, and fell back in his seat. He was caught in 
the arms of some lords who stood near him, and the 
house immediately adjourned. His death is considered 
to have been immediately caused by this exertion, which 
he survived littie more than a month. ‘The reader will 
find a notice and portrait of this distinguished states- 
man in No. 39 of the ‘ Penny Magazine.’ 

Lhe addition made to the members of the upper 
house by the Union with Ireland in 1800, suggested 
the propriety of enlarged accommodation ; in conse- 
quence of which the apartment recently destroyed was 
prepared for their reception. Within the short period 


arisen. ‘The trial of Queen Caroline, in 1820, will 


| doubtless be considered the most interesting; but the 


circumstances of that event are too fully and familiarly 
known to the public to need any extended notice in this 
The following wood-cut represents the House 
of Lords as fitted up on the occasion of this trial. 


In our account of the Tapestry of the Destruction of 
the Spanish Armada, we omitted to notice a curious 
passage in Pennant’s description of the old House of 
Lords :— 

‘<The Honse of Lords is a room ornamented with 
the tapestry which records our victory over the Spanish 
Armada. It was bespoke by the Earl of Nottingham, 
lord high admiral and commander-in-chief on the glo- 
rious day. ‘The earl sold it to James]. The design 
was drawn by Cornelius Vroan, and the _ tapestry 
executed by Francis Spierine. Vroan had a hundred 
pieces of gold for his labour. ‘lie arras itself cost 
1628/. It was not put up till the year 1650, two years 
after the extinction of the.monarchy, when the Honse 


1 of Fords was used as a committee-room for the House 


of Commons*.” 

Speaking of the apartment in which the king was 
wont to prt on his robes when he came to the House 
of Lords, Pennant states that it contained a curious 
old tapestry representing the birth of Queen Elizabeth. 
Anne Boleyn was exhibited in bed, on one side of which 
stood an attendant, and on the other a nurse with the 
child in her arms. The continuity of the story was a 
little broken by the loss of a piece of the arras, which 
had been cut out to make a passage for the door 


* ¢ Some Account of London,’ p. 91, drd edit., 1793, 


472 


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church, having received the tonsure at the age of seven 
The influence of his family, no less than the 
erievous corruption of the church at that period, are 
manifested by the fact that the boy, being at that early 
age declared capable of ecclesiastical preferment, im- 


A474 


mediately received two rich abbacies, and that, in the 
course of a few years further, the number of the pre- 
ferments held by him amounted to not less than twenty- 
sever. But the favourite object of Lorenzo’s ambition 
for his son was his elevation to the cardinalate, with the 
ultimate view of his election to the popedom; and, by 
means of incessant - applications, he prevailed upon 
Innocent VILL. to confer that high dignity upon him at 
the early age of thirteen. 

But while Lorenzo thus exerted his interest> 
agorandizement of his son, he did not fail to use his 
best endeavours to render that son worthy of the 
dienities he had attained, and the higher dienities to 
which he aspired. ‘This wish of the father was for- 
warded by the dispositions and talents of the son, which 
were sueh as to enable him to draw the full benefit from 
the instructions of the able teachers who had charge of 
his education. Even the pope, also, who allowed him- 
self to be prevailed upon to elevate a mere lad to a 
place among the highest ecclesiastical dignitaries, had 
the good sense to make it a condition that Giovanni 
should spend three years in professional studies at the 
university of Pisa, before he should be invested for- 
mally with the purple. Accordingly, this solemn act 
took place in the year 1492, and the youth immediately 
went to reside at Rome as one of the sacred colleve. 
His father died very soon after, and was succeeded by 
his eldest son in his offices in the republic of Florence. 

The young. cardinal remained at Rome until his 
opposition to the election of Alexander VI. to the papal 
chair rendered it expedient for him to withdraw to 
Florence, from whence, at the invasion of Italy by 
Charles VILE. of France, he and the whole family of 
Medici were expelled, and obliged to take refuge in 
Bologna. In 1499 he went to Venice, Germany, and 
France; and after having remained some time in 
Genoa, returned to Rome, where he resided during the 
remainder of Alexander's pontificate and the early part 
of that of Julius I1., interfering little in public affairs, 
but devoting his time to the cultivation of literature, 
aud indulging his taste in the fine arts; while his 
leisure hours were spent in a select circle of acquaint- 
atice of tastes congenial to his own, or in the enjoyment 
of the ehase,—an amusement to which he was much 
addicted. ‘The fallen state of his family at this period, 
combined with rather expensive habits, occasioned him 
some pecuniary embarrassment; but he was supported 
under all his difficulties by a most cheerful temper. and 
by the hope of better days. 

Tt was not until 1505 that the Cardinal de Medici 
began to take any aetive part in public affairs. He 
was then appointed to the government of Perugia, and 
by his firm adherence to the interests of Julius II. he 
acquired the unlimited confidence of that pontiff, who, 
in 1511, placed him, with the title of Legate of Bologna, 
at the head of his forces in the “ holy league” against 
the French. At the'bloody battle of Ravenna, in the 
following year, the Legate was taken prisoner by the 
Freneh, and conveyed to Milan, where the sacredness 
of his function caused him to be treated with much 
respect. The French on their retreat took him with 
them; but on his arrival at the banks of the Po, he 
was enabled to effect his escape, and returned to Bo- 
logna, the government of which he re-assumed in his 
character of legate; and, while there, contributed to 
the restoration of his family to its former power at 
Florence. On this auspicious event he repaired to his 
native city, and continued to reside there till the 
death of Julins If. called him suddenly to Rome. At 
the scrutiny for a new pontiff, in 1513, the election was 
declared to have fallen on the Cardinal de Medici, who 
was them‘ riot more than thirty-eight years of age, and 
who, nevertheless, ascended the throne, under the name 
of Leo X.; with such manifestations of good will, from 


for the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


i 


[December 6, 


both Italians and foreigners, as had not fallen to the 
lot of many of his predecessors. 

The new pope indicated his disposition to patronize 
literature by appoimting as his secretaries Bemho and 
Sadoleti, two of the prineipal writers of his time. In 
his foreign policy, he followed the system of his prede- 
cessors In opposing himself as much as possible to the 
domination of foreigners in Italy. He therefore took 
such measures as, for the time, cleared the country of 


the French, and brought their kine to submission; and — 


he was no less fortunate in healing a threatened division 
in the Church. Leo had then leisure to attend to the 
welfare of literature and the arts. By new endowments, 
and by grauts of new privileges, but still more by filling 
its professorships with distinguished men, invited from 
all parts, he restored the university of Rome to more 
than its former distinction. He also established, in the 
university of Bologna, the first professorship in Italy in 
the Syriac and Chaldaic languages. The study of the 
Greek language was a very favourite object of his 
patronage. Under the direction of John Lascaris, 
whom he invited from Venice for the purpose, a society 
of noble young Greeks was formed at Rome for the 
purpose of editing Greek authors, and a Greek press 
was established in that city. ‘The pope caused public 
notice to be given throughout Europe, that all persons 
who possessed manuscripts of ancient authors should be 
liberally rewarded if they would bring or send them to 
him. Several private persons followed the example of 
the pope; and among these we may mention a mer- 
chant of the name of Chigi, who established a collection 
of works of art, and published an edition of Pindar and 
Theocritus 

In polities, the two principal objects which Leo kept 
in view were, the one to maintain such a balance of 
power as would protect Italy from the overbearing in- 
fluence of any foreign potentate; and the other to 
agerandize by every possible means the family of 
Medici. We cannot here enter into a statement of the 
various measures by which he sought to aecomplish 
these objects, and which were not always such as be- 
came his private character as a man, or his public 
character as a prince and a pontiff. His conduct in 
violently deposing the Duke of Urbino, in order to 
invest his own nephew, Lorenzo, with the territories of 
the dukedom, is among the most discreditable of his 
public measures. We are not much surprised to learn 
that, in the same year with the completion of this object, 
his life was endangered by a conspiracy which was 
formed against him. ‘he plot was discovered ; and 
Cardinal Petrucci, who was suspected of being the 
principal, was decoyed to Rome, from which he had, in 
the first instance, escaped, and was hanged ; and as many 
of his agents as were discovered were executed with 
horrid tortures. Others, whose guilt was not sufficiently 
proved to countenance their execution, were tortured, 
deprived of their dignities, and banished. It was 
believed at the time that many innocent persons suffered 
on this occasion; and certainly the eonduct of Leo did 
not illustrate the attributes of magnanimity and mercy 
which became his place. ‘To renaer himself more 
secure for the future, the pope, by a great stretch of 
his authority, created thirty-one new cardinals in one 
day. Many of these were his relations and personal 
friends, who had no apparent elaim to such distinction ; 
but there were others in the number who were acknow- 
ledged to be worthy objects of his favour. 

The unbounded profusion of Leo, and his magnifi- 
cent undertakings, rendered the ordinary suppiies to 
the papal treasury, altogether madequate to his ex- 
penses. ‘Then it was that an extraordinary issue of 
induleences was thought of:as a promising-means of 
bringing all Christendom to eontribute largely to the 
wants of the papacy. But the indiscretion with which 





1834.] 


this traffic was conducted in Germany roiised the zeal 
of Luther, who not only animadverted severely on this 
mode of raising money, but even questioned the pope’s 
power of remitting sin. The effect which JTuther’s 
vehement remonstrances produced is well known; but 
Leo, who little suspected the final result, neglected 
at first the attacks and efforts of the powerful Ger- 
man; and. when his interference was considered 
hetéssary, he was inclined to leuient measures. At 
length he was persuaded by the Emperor Maximilian 
to assume more rigour, and summon Luther to appear 
before the Court of Rome; but it was finally agreed 
that the Cardinal Cajetan should hear his defence at 
Augsbure. Nothing satisfactory was determined on 
this occasion, and the pope, in 1518, published a bull, 
asserting his authority to grant indulgences which 
should avail not only the living, but the dead in pur- 
gatory. Upon this Luther appealed to a general 
council; and when open war was thus declared, the 
party of the reformer appeared with a strength infi- 
uitely greater than the Court of Rome had foreseen. 
The sentiments of the Christian world were at that 
time, indeed, particularly unfavourable towards that 
court. ‘* The scandal,” says Roscoe, * incurred by the 
iufamy of Alexander VJ., and the violence of Julins IT., 
was not much alleviated in the reign of a pontiff who 
was characterized by an inordinate love of pomp and 
pleasure, and whose classical taste even caused him to 
be regarded by many as more of a heathen than a 
Christian.” 

While open war had thus broken out in the church, 
Leo endeavoured, but without success, to unite the 
princes of Christendom in a crusade against the Turkish 
Emperor Selim, who had made himself master of 
Egypt, and whose warlike dispositions occasioned con- 
siderable alarm in Enrope. Nearly simultaneously 
with his failure in this project, Leo sustained a severe 
domestic affliction in the death of his nephew Lorenzo, 
leaving only a daughter, afterwards the celebrated 
Catherine de Medicis, the Queen and Regent of France. 
On this event the pope annexed the Duchy of Urbino, 
with its dependencies, to the see of Rome, while 
Giulio, Leo’s cousin, was appointed to maintain the 
family power at Florence. Meanwhile, and after- 
wards, the Reformation continued to gain ground in 
Germany ; but the peacc of Italy was not disturbed by 
foreign wars, and this tranquillity allowed the pope to 
indulge his taste for magnificence in shows and spec- 
tacles, and in the employment of those great artists 
who have reflected so much lustre upon his pontificate. 
His private hours are said to have been chiefly devoted 
to indolence or to amusements which were not always of 
a kind suitable to his high and reverend station. He 
did not, however, neglect any opportunity of aggran- 
dizing his family and see; and it was im the midst of 
schemes and measures for these purposes that he died 
suddenly on the Ist of December, 1521, in the forty- 
sixth year of his age, and the ninth of his pontificate. 
The people in general expressed much concern at his 
death; but the honours rendered to his memory and 
remains fell much short of what might have been ex- 
pected. An exhausted treasury was the excuse for au 
economical funeral; and notwithstanding the number 
of the distinguished scholars then at Rome, the task of 
pronouncing his funeral oration was given to an illite- 
rate chamberlain. 

Leo himself was not distinguished by solidity of 
acguirement or brilliancy of talent. His merit—if we 
way so call it—the merit which made his reign remark- 
able, was the good taste which directed his patronage. 
And yet, while he afforded liberal encouragement to 
useful and reputable studies, much of his patronage 
was misdirected both as to things and persons. It is 


also to be remembered that his patronage was not of 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


475 


that high character which finds talent fainting in dark- 
ness, and brings it forward to the light of day; but of 
that sort which helps what others have helped, and 
completes what others have undertaken. Michael 
Angelo and Raffaelle had both risen to fame under 
Leo’s predecessor, Julius If., who had also planned 
and made a commencement of that stupendous struc- 
ture the Cathedral of St. Peter. Upon the whole, 
Pope’s description of Leo’s reign may be considered 
somewhat flattering ; but it has sufficient truth to allow 
it that place here which its beauty demands. 
But see! each muse, in Leo’s golden days, 

Starts from her trance, and trims her withered bays: 

Rome’s ancient genius, o’er its ruins spread 

Shakes off the dust, and rears its reverend head. 

“hen sculpture and her sister arts revive ; 

Stones leap to form, and rocks begin to live ; 


With sweeter notes each rising temple rung, 
A Raffaelle painted, and a Vida sung.” 


Our wood-cut is after Raffaclle’s celebrated portrait 
of the pontiff to whom this article relates. We have 
sufhicient evidence that it does not give an ideal likeness, 
as is the case in many that have come down to us as 
faithful portraits, but one, the truth and resemblance 
of which were considered astonishing at the time it was 
painted. ‘The portrait answers exceedingly well to the 
idea a person would form of Leo from the perusal of 
his hfe ;—a man of spirit, taste, and pleasure—an 
amiable and munificent patron of the arts, rather than 
an able or discreet ruler of the church. He is repre- 
sented seated before a table on which lies an open 
book. On his right hand stands the Cardinal Giulio 
de Medicis (afterwards Pope Clement VII.), who 
appears as if attending to some orders from the pontiff, 
upon the back of whose chair leans the Cardinal Rossi. 
Raffaelle has repeated the portrait of Leo in others of 
his works ; thus, in the painting of the Coronation of 
Charlemagne, he has given to Leo III. the lineaments 
of this pope. ‘The picture of Leo X. is on wood, and 
its dimensions are 4 feet 10 inches high, by 3 feet 8 
inches broad. 





HAWKING.—No IV. 


[Concluded from No. 170.} 


Tue old Eastern travellers, Father Rubruquis and 
Marco Polo, whose journeys we have described in 
preceding numbers of the ‘ Penny Magazine,’ make 
frequent mention of the practice of hawking among 
the wandering Tartars during the thirteenth century. 
Marco mentions a palace at Changa-nor, or the White 
Lake, which the grand khan was very fond of visiting, 
because it was surrounded with pieces of water and 
streams, the resort of many swans, and with plains, 
where cranes, pheasants, partridges, and other birds 
were found in great numbers. ‘* The grand khan,” 
says the old Venetian, “ derives the highest de@ree of 
amusement from sporting here with e@yr-falcons and 
hawks.” Ele also informs us that at another palace 
near the city of Chandu, in Tartary, the grand khan 
kept upwards of 200 hawks, which, during his stay 
there, he always visited and inspected in person at 
least once a week. ‘I'he mews were pleasantly situated 
in a park, where a variety of animals of the deer and 
soat kind were pastured, to serve as food for the hawks 
and other birds employed in the chase. According to 
Marco, the khan had reclaimed eagles also, which were 
trained to stoop at wolves ; and such was their size and 
strength that none, however large, could escape froin 
their talons. This grand khan (Kublai), who was at 
once Emperor of Tartary and China, had two court 
officers, of the highest dignity, called ‘“* Masters of the 
Chase.” In relating the number of his falconers, and 
the pomp with which he took the field, the Venetian 


‘mieht incur suspicion were he not fully coufirmed im 


3P2 


476 


all he says by several other accounts of the imposing 
establishments and sports of the Mongul!l ‘Tartars. 
Mareo, who was a keen sportsman and falconer him- 
self, (as became a well-bred Italian gentleman of that 
period,) may often have accompanied the grand khan, 
or emperor, with whom he stood in high favour. He 
says that, after residing the usual time at the metropolis 
of China, he always proceeded to enjoy the field-sports 
in the plains of Tartary, ‘‘ attended by full 10,000 fal- 
coners,’ who carried with them ‘Sa vast number of 
gyt-falcons, peregrine-falcons, and sakers, as well as 
mauy vultures, in order to pursue the game along the 
banks of rivers.’ He adds, that this host of falconers 
was not kept altogether in a body, and at one place, 
but separated into parties of from 100 to 200 men each, 
who followed the sport in various directions, and brought 
the greater part of the eame they killed to the emperor. 
Marco continues :—‘ The grand khan has likewise 
with him 10,000 men of those who are called éaskaol, 
implying that their business is to be upon the watch, 
and who, for this purpose, are detached in small parties 
of two or three to stations not far distant from each 
other, in such a manner as to encompass a considerable 
tract of country. Each of them is provided with a call 
and hood, by which they are enabled, when necessary, 
to call in and to secure the birds. Upon the command 
being given for flying the hawks, those who cast them 
off are not under the necessity of following them ; 
because the others, whose duty it is, look out so atten- 
tively, that the birds cannot direct their flight to any 
quarter where they are not secured, or promptly assisted 
if there should be occasion. Every bird belonging to 
his majesty, or to any of his nobles, has a small silver 
labei fastened to its leg, on which is engraved the name 
of tlie owner, and also the name of the keeper. In con- 
sequence of this precaution, as soon as the hawk is 
secured it is immediately known to whom it belongs, 
and restored accordingly. If it happens that, although 
the name appears, the owner, not being personally 
known to the finder, cannot be ascertained in the first 
instauce, the bird is, in that case, carried to an officer 
termed bulangazi, whose title imports he is the 
‘guardian of unclaimed property. If a horse, there- 
fore, a sword, a hawk, or any other article is found, 
and it does not appear to whom it belongs, the finder 
carries it directly to this officer, by whom it is received 
in charge, and carefully preserved. If, on the other 
hand, a person finds any article that has been lost, and 
fails to carry it to the proper depository, he is accounted 
a thief. Those by whom any property has been lost 
make their application to this officer, by whom it is 
restored to them. His situation is always in the most 
elevated part of the camp, and distinguished by a par- 
ticular flag, in order that he may be the more readily 
found by such as have occasion to apply to him. ‘Lhe 
effect of this rezulation is that no articles are ultimately 
Jost.” (It may amuse our readers to compare this 
Tartaro-Chinese regulation in the thirteenth century 
with the express law about lost and strayed hawks 
passed by our Edward ITI. in the fourteenth century. 
We have given the heads of the enactment in the 
first* of these papers on hawking.) ‘The Venetian tra- 
veller tells us that the grand khan carried his wives and 
the Jadies of the court with him on these expeditions, 
and that the fair ones also had their gyr-falcons, their 
hawks, and other birds and beasts, with which they par- 
took in the sports. What with ladies and their atten- 
dants, physicians, astrologers (who were never left 
behind), courtiers, slaves, and faiconers, these imperial 
progresses must indeed have formed an_ incredible 
multitude. ‘* When his Majesty,” says Marco, ‘“‘ makes 
his progress in this manner, many interesting occur- 
rences attend the sport, and it may truly be said that 
: * <Penny Magazine,’ No. 161, | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


{[DEcEMBER 6, 


itis unrivalled by any other amusement in the world? 
* * * * And thus the emperor remains until the 
first vigil of our Easter, during which period he never 
ceases to frequent the lakes and rivers, where he takes 
storks, swans, herons, and a variety of other birds, 
His people also, being detached to several different 
places, procure for him a large quantity of game. In 
this manner, during the season of his diversion, he 
enjoys himself to a degree that no person who is not 
an eye-witness can conceive; the excellence and the 
extent of the sport being greater than it is possible to 
express.” : 

In the same very interesting chapter, however, honest 
Marco lets us into the secret that, under this brilliant 
state of things, the great body of the people was op- 
pressed by game-laws and forest-laws, which differed 
very little from our own. The same odious distinctions 
we have described as existing under our old feudal 
system obtained in China and Tartary. ‘“* It is strictly 
forbidden,” says the traveller, ‘‘ to every tradesman, 
inechanic, or husbandman, throughout his majesty’s 
dominions, to keep a hawk, or any other bird used for 
the pursuit of game, or any sporting dog.” ‘To this 
he subjoins: ‘* Nor is a nobleman or knight to presume 
to chase bird or beast in the neighbourhood of the 
place where his majesty takes up his residence, (the 
distance being limited to five miles, for example, on 
one side, ten on another, and perhaps fifteen in a third 
direction,) unless his name be inscribed in a list kept 
by the grand falconer, or he has a special privilege to 
that effect. Beyond these limits it is permitted. There 
is an order, however, which prohibits every person 
throughout all the countries subject to his majesty, 
whether prince, noblernan, or peasant, from daring to 
kill hares, roebucks, fallow -deer, stags, or other animals 
of that kind, or any large birds, between the months 
of March and October; to the intent that they may 
increase and multiply; and as the breach of this order 
is attended with severe punishment, game of every 
description increases prodigiously.” 

In speaking of Tibet, a country which was then 
entirely subject to the grand khan, Marco says,— 
** Some of the best laner falcons are bred here, and 
also sakers, very swift of flight, and the natives have 
good sport with them.” ’ 

In the year 1419, about 119 years after Marco Polo’s 
final departure from China, Mirza Shah Rokh, the 
monarch of Persia, sent an embassy, of which an inte- 
resting account is preserved, to the Chinese Emperor 
at Pekin. By this time the conquering Tartars had 
been expelled from China, and instead of the Mongul 
princes, the descendants of the great Gengis and Kublai, 
the native Chinese dynasty of the Ming sat upon the 
imperial throne. The Chinese Emperor seems, how- 
ever, to have been as fond of hawking as the Mongul. 

The ambassadors of Shah Rokh took fine horses as 
presents, and in return the emperor presented them 
with shankars,—a much-esteemed species of falcon. 
One day the Persian diplomatists were summoned to 
court, when the emperor said to them, “‘ I am going to 
hunt; take your falcons,—they will fly and give you 
amusement ; but as for the horses you brought me, they 
are not good.” Indeed, that very day one of Shah 
Rokh’s high-bred horses threw the emperor whilst 
hunting. The fault was probably more in the rider 
than the steed, and when Shadi Khoja was reproached 
for what had happened, he told the emperor that the 


‘horse was a good horse, and had often been ridden by 


the great conqueror Tamerlane. By this saying Shadi 
Koja lost a fine hawk, for the emperor gave one more 
to each of his companions, but not to him. The puis- 
sant monarch then called for a falcon, and cast it off at 
a crane, but the falcon returned to hand without seizing 
its prey, on which his majesty struck it three blows on 


1834.] 


the head. It must be mentioned, however, that the 
emperor was old and sulky at the time. 

Mr. Rankine, in his curious work on the ‘ Wars 
and Sports of the Romans and Moneuls,’ says, it is an 
old custom among the Tartars to give a fine falcon as 
an extraordinary present, hawking being one of their 
favourite amusements. In the province of Dauria, 
near the Amoor, there are great numbers of milk-white 
nawks, and from this province China is chiefly supplied. 
In Siberia three sorts of falcons are used for sporting : 
the best of these is pretty large, ash-coloured, and 
sometimes speckled with white. Recent travellers in 


central Asia make frequent mention of hawks and 
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{Death of the Heron.] 


- Mr. Johnson, in his amusing sketches of ‘ Indian 
Field-Sports,’ informs us, that in his time (about a 
quarter of a century ago) all the native gentlemen of 
India, who were in the Jeast degree fond of sporting, 
kept hawks of various kinds, and never travelled without 
them. ‘“ The largest kind,” he says, ‘* are trained to 
kill deer, by pitching on their heads and picking out 
their eyes: they also kill large water-fowl, somewhat 
like the heron ; a sport affording considerable amuse- 
meut. Some are very small, and are only used for 
killing small birds. Others are trained to hover over 
ponds in which there are wild-fowl, which, on being fired 
at, rise immediately, when the hawk darts on them, 
and obliges them again to drop into the water, by 
which means the sportsmen get many shots, and kill a 
ereat number.” In describing (what he often wit- 
nessed) the number and magnificence of the hunting 
retinue of the Nabob-Vizir of Lucknow, Mr. John- 
son draws a picture which makes old Marco Polo's 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


pp Pa pl SP SSS, SP ti i 


A77 


when a poor dove, or curlew, or any other small bird, 
was sprung, the hawks were loosened after it, and the 
fortunate falconer, whose hawk caught it, received a 
reward from the vizir. The Persians, who are enthu- 
siastically fond of field-sports, still hawk at bustards, 
hares, herons, and partridges, and train several sorts of 
falcons for the purpose. ‘They have also a particular 
breed which they train to fly at antelopes, and to act 
in concert with dogs. The best of these are of Arab 
breed, and their owners are said to be as curious regard- 
ing their pedigree, as they are about the descent of their 
finest horses. 

The late Sir John Malcolm, in his delightful little 
work called * Sketches of Persia,’ gives some very ani- 
mated descriptions of these sports. He frequently partook 
in them during his journeys and embassies to the court of 
the Shah. Inspeaking of his stay at Abusheher (a place 
on the Persian gulf ), he says,—‘‘ The huntsmen proceed 
to a large plain, or rather desert, near the sea-side : they 
have hawks and greyhounds; the hawks carried in the 
usual manner, on the hand of the huntsman; the dogs 
ied in a leash by a horseman, generally the same who 
carries the hawk. When an antelope is seen, they 
endeavour to get as near as possible; but the animal, 
the moment it observes them, goes off ata rate that 
seems swifter than the wind: the horsemen are instantly 
at full speed, having slipped the dogs. If it is a single 
deer, they at the same time fly the hawks; but if a 
herd, they wait till the dogs have fixed on a particular 
antelope. ‘The hawks, skimming alone near the 
eround, soon reach the deer, at whose head they 
pounce in succession, and sometimes with a violence 
that knocks it over. At all events, they confuse the 
animal so much as to stop its speed in such a degree 
that the dogs can come up; and in an instant, men, 
horses, dogs, and hawks, surround the unfortunate deer, 
against which their united efforts have been combined. 
The part of the chase that surprised me most was the 
extraordinary combination of the hawks and the dogs, 
which throughout seemed to look to each other for aid. 
This, I was told, was the resuit of long and _ skilful 
training. 

‘The antelope is supposed to be the fleetest quadru- 
ped on earth, and the rapidity of the first burst of the 
chase I have described is astonishing. ‘The run seldom 
exceeds three or four miles, and often is not half so 
much. A fawn Is an easy victory, the doe often runs a 
good chase, and the buck is seldom taken. ‘The Arabs 
are indeed afraid to fly their hawks at a buck, as these 
fine birds, in pouncing, at times impale themselves on 
its sharp horns. 

‘“'The hawks used in this sport are of a species I 
have never seen in any other country. This breed, 
which is called Cherkh, is not large, but of great beauty 
and symmetry. * * * #* 

‘“The novelty of these amusements interested me; 
and J was pleased, on accompanying a party to a 
village, about twenty miles from Abusheher, to see a 
species of hawking peculiar, I believe, to the sandy 
plains of Persia, on which the Hubara, a noble species 
of bustard, is found on almost bare plains, where it has 
no shelter but a small shrub called geetuck. When 
we wellt in quest of them, we were a party of about 
twenty, all well mounted. Two kinds of hawks are 
necessary for this sport;—the first, the Cherkh (the 
same which is flown at the antelope), attacks them on 
the ground, but will not follow them on the wing ; 
for this reason, the Bhyree, a hawk well known in 
India, is flown the moment the Hubara rises. 

‘As we rode along, in an extended line, the men 
who carried the Cherkhs every now and then unhcoded 
and held them up, that they might look over the plain. 
The first Hubara we found afforded us a proof of the 


accounts seem perfectly credible. On these expeditions | astonishing quickness of sight of one of the hawks; 


478 


she fluttered to be loose, and the man who held her 
gave a whoop, as he threw her off his hand, and then 
set off at full speed. We all did the same. At first we 
only saw our hawk skimming over the plain, but soon 
perceived, at the distance of more than a mile, the 
beautiful speckled Hubara, with his head erect, and 
wings outspread, running forward to meet his adversary. 
The Cherkh made several unsuccessful pounces, which 
were either evaded or repelled by the beak or wings of 
the Hubara, which at last found an opportunity of 
rising, when a Bhyree was instantly flown, and the 
whole party were again at full gallop. We had a flight 
of more than a mile, when the Hubara alighted, and 
was killed by another Cherkh, who attacked him on the 
vround. This. bird weighed ten pounds. We killed 
several others, but were not always successful, having 
seen our hawks twice completely beaten during the two 
days we followed this fine sport.” 

On some occasions the Persians dress their hawks in 
what we may familiarly call leather-breeches. With Sir 
John Malcolm’s account of this toilette and its use we 
must conclude our account of hawking. ‘ When at 
Shiraz, the Elchee (ambassador) had received a present 
of a very fine Shah-Baz, or royal falcon, Before going 
out, I had been amused at seeing Nutee Beg, our head- 
falconer, a man of great experience in his department, 
put upon this bird a pair of leathers, which he fitted to 
its thighs with as much care as if he had been the tailor 
of a fashionable horseman. I inquired the reason of 
so 1nusual a proceeding. ‘ You will learn that,’ said 
the consequential master of the hawks, ‘ when you see 
our sport:’ and I was convinced, at the period he pre- 
dicted, of the old fellow’s knowledge of his business. 

‘<The first hare seized by the falcon was very strong, 
and the ground rough. While the bird kept the claws 
of one foot fastened in the back of its prey, the other 
was dragged along the ground till it had an oppor- 
tunity to lay hold of a tuft of grass, by which it was 
enabled to stop the course of the hare, whose efforts to 
escape, I do think, would have torn the hawk asunder, if 
it had not been provided with the leathern defences 
which have been mentioned.” In Enrope, also, with 
herons much care was required; and when the bold 
falcon had brought one of these powerful birds to the 
eround, it was the sportsman’s duty not only to break 
iis long legs, but to stick its strong, sharp bill in the 
earth, to prevent it from injuring the hawk. It should 
appear that with this quarry assistance was always 


necessary, and we see a dismounted sportsman render- 


ing it in the engraving in the preceding page. 


United States.—Common Schools.—Printed petitions to 
the Senate and House of Representatives are being cir- 
culated in America, embodying the propositions that: “ the 
net procecds of all the public lands shall be annually dis- 
tributed among the states in the ratio of representation, and 


shall be by them respectively invested for the support of 


Comimnon Schools, and the interest so applied, one-half at 
least being devoted to the direct and essential purposes of 
education; and that “ until the national revenues shall be 
reduced to the standard of expenses, at least one-half of the 
surplus shall be appropriated and applied to education in 
the same manner as the interests of the land.” These 
petitions are issued on sheets containing reasoning, autho- 
rities, and statements in favour of the proposed enactments. 
Among the statements the following are curious, and may 
correct some of the exaggerated reports respecting the state 
of education in the United States, which have been recently 
promulgated. After observing that “ the Common School 
System of New York State, in its organization, comprises 
already a beautiful outline or skeleton,” it is added, that 
“ this country contains more than four millions of children 
who ought to be under the influence of Common Schools.” 
But by arecent estimate, it appears that more than one 
million of children are growing up in the United States 
without the means of education; of these 250,000 are said 


to be in Pennsylvania, An estimate made in 1828 showed, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[DeceMBER 6, 


that of the children of New Jersey 11,742 were entirely 
destitute of instruction, and 15,000 adults unable to read, 
In Kentucky there are 50,000 children, of whom only one- 
third attend schools, and in most of the Southern and 
Western States this truly deplorable destitution is equally 
great. There is every reason to believe that a great majo- 
rity of all the children in the States are only imperfectly 
instructed, and by incompetent teachers.—From the Journal 
of Education, No. XVI. 





The Sacred Pig.—I heard Hitotte relate a story, whicli, 
as it exhibited great strength of mind, 1 think worth re- 
tailing. It was the custom in Otaheite to offer a roasted 
pig in the Morais ; and it was firmly believed that the god 
would visit with his utmost anger any one who sacrile- 
giously presumed to taste of this hallowed food. - Hitotte, 
however, having heard a great deal from the Missionaries of 
the fallacy of the national creed, and the impotency of their 
deities, resolved to put the matter to the most awful test he 
could imagine by tasting the forbidden food. He therefore 
took a piece of the roasted hog, and retired into the woods 
to eat it, not without great apprehension that his immediate 
dissolution would follow. It was really interesting to 
observe the varied expression of his countenance while 
relating the adventure ;—the cunning expressive of his 
taking and concealing the sacred morsel ;—the fall of his 
countenance when he told that he had done the deed ; 
—and the gradual brightening up as he related how days 
elapsed and he found himself not a whit the worse for his 
meal. It is needless to say that this circumstance had 
much effect in establishing conviction in his mind.—QJ/ZS. 
Journal of a Voyage. 


Waillis’s Visit to Otahette-—The natives say that the 
visit of Wallis was predicted by one of their priests in these 
words :—“ That a large canoe should arrive without an 
outrigger, having three cocoa-nut trees growing out of her,”’ 


‘The people expressed their disbelief, as it was considered 


impossible for a vessel to stand up in the water without an 
outrigger. The prophet then threw a large flat piece of 
timber into the sea, and bade them observe that it did not 
capsize. When the ‘* Dolphin” did arrive, they supposed 
it an island of the gods; and imagined the water to be 
fresh which ran down the sides as the men pumped out the 
ship. The only reason for their attack upon the vessel was 
to obtain one of these gods, and a bunch of red feathers 
was presented for the purpose of rendering them incapable 
of resistance, according to the superstition of the island. 
Some of our readers will remember that in the account of 
Wallis’s ‘ Voyage’ it 1s stated that, when the feathers had 
been ‘received, the chief who brought them withdrew, and. 
immediately after the attack began.—MS. Journal of a 
Voyage. 


BRISTOL—No. II. 
[Concluded from No. 169.T 
Our present wood-cut represents the gate of the ancient 
monastery of St. Augustin, to which we have already 
briefly adverted. Wedo not see much reason to lay 
any considerable stress on the opinions of some zealous 
antiquarians who are disposed to assign to the erection 
of this gate a date earlier than that of the monastery. 
This impression appears to have arisen from the absence 
of a date in the inscription which attributes the first 
foundation of the abbey to King Henry II. and Robert 
Fitzharding; and still more from the existence of 
Edward the Confessor’s arms sculptured at the top of 
the gate on the north side,—a fact which proves very 
little when we consider the respect with which the 
memory of that devout monarch was regarded in those 
early times. ‘The gate now appears to some disadvan- 
tage, in consequence of the ground having, in the 
course of several centuries, become raised at the base, 
which has in some measure marred tlie effect and 
beauty of its proportions. ‘The whole structure also is 
of unequal date. ‘The rooms in the upper part were 
considerably modified by several of the abbots, parti- 
cularly by Abbot Newland in 1515, who placed his 
own effigy and that of Henry II. over the gate. More 


recently the gate has been somewhat modernized by 


1834.] 


the substitution of sash windows for a laree bow win- 
dow with diamond panes, which occupied the whole 
centre, and extended from the summit of the arch to 
the top of the gate, where it was surmounted with a 
castellated summit harmonizing with the rest. 

We can do little more than name the other priucipal 
public buildings. The Exxchanee isa handsome structure 
in the Grecian style, built by Wood, the architect, of 
Bath, at the expense of 50,000/,; but ‘* exchange busi- 
ness” is, toavery large extent, transacted at the Com- 
mercial Rooms, The Theatre is an elerant and com- 
modious building : Garrick pronounced it to be the most 
complete in Europe. It was for a long time under 
the management of the late Mr. Macready, the father of 
the tragedian. The Bristol City Library is contained 
in a large free-stone building erected for the purpose. 
The Assembly Room has a beautiful free-stone front ; 
aud the Guildhall, the Merchants’ Hall, the Post 
Office, and the General Hospital, complete the list. 
In one of the squares of the town there is an equestrian 
statue of King William III., by Rysbrack, which has 
not often been surpassed by any similar work of art. 
There was formerly a statue of George III. in Portland 
Square; but during the late war, in which the com- 
merce of Bristol suffered very much, the head of the 
statue was one night knocked off, and the pedestal 
alone now remains. 

There is, perhaps, no town in England, except the 
metropolis, in which greater sums are expended than 
in Bristol, in every variety of charity, upon the sick and 
the poor, and for the purposes of gratuitous education. 
We cannot here recapitulate the establishments and 
endowments of this description; but it ought to be 
mentioned that Bristol claims the distinction of having 
shown to the rest of England the first example of a 


regular provincial infirmary. It was founded in the 


year 1735, through the exertions and liberality of John 
Ki lbordye, Esq., and Dr. Bonythorne, with the assistance 
of the corporation and the citizens at large. The Public 
Library consists of a very considerable collection of 
books; and there is also a Philosophical and Literary 
Institution, which possesses a theatre and a valuable 
museum of natural history, with mineralogical and 
geological specimens. Public lectures are occasionally 
given here, and papers read on philosophical and lite- 
rary subjects (if these are the subjects); and the 
reading-rooms belonging to it are well supplied with 
newspapers and periodical publications. 


The quay at Bristol is an uninterrupted wharf of |. 


hewn stone, extending for more than a mile along 
the shores of the Frome and Avon. Although thie 
depth of the Avon always enabled the largest 
vessels to reach the quay at spring tides, they fre- 
quently sustained damage by lying aground in the 
mud at low water, and were delayed by the necessity 
of waiting for the spring tide to get out again. To 
remedy these inconveniences a floating harbour was 
completed in the year 1809, by damming up the bed 
of the Avon and Frome as far as the Hot-Wells, and 
opening a new channel for the Avon through the Red- 
cliff meads. It is said that this energetic effort of the 
merchants cost nearly half a million sterling; and it 
has produced a harbour capable of containing a thou- 
saud vessels, which are not only kept afloat, but are 
enabled to enter the locks and go to sea at neap tides. 
The funds for this great undertaking were raised in 
shares of 135/. each. We do not kuow whether the 
extremely heavy shipping dues at this port are 
owing to the expense of these works, but such dues do 
exist, and many of the inhabitants attrisute to them, 
among other causes, the decline which has taken piace 
in the trade of Bristol. Upon changing the course 
of the Avon, two cast-iron bridges were erected by 
Mr. Jessop over the new channel. The span of the 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


479 


iron-work of each arch is 100 feet, and the rise 12 feet 
6 inches, or one-eighth of the span. There are two 
other bridges at Bristol: one over the Avon, erected in 
1768, in the place of one that had stood for several 
centuries ; it consists of three wide and lofty arches, 
with a stone balustrade seven feet high. The other is 
a drawbridge, with two arches of stone, over the Frome 
Dhe wet-ducks at Bristol are very extensive, and the 
dimensions of the merchants’ floating-dock are said to 
exceed even those of Plymouth and Portsmouth. The 
situation of Bristol has always rendered it a place of 
commercial importance ; and during many centuries it 
stood second to London, without dread of a rival. The 
part which Bristol took in encouraging the first attempts 
at maritime discovery are highly creditable to the city. 
Sebastian Cabot was a native of Bristol, and the mer- 
chants of the city contributed to the expense of the first 
voyage made by him and his father under the patent 
of Henry VII., which authorised the Cabots to dis- 
cover unknown lands, and conquer and colonize them. 
Newfoundland was discovered ; and the merchants of 
Bristol were among the first to engage in the cod- 
fishery on the coast of that island, as well as in the 
West India trade. That trade still forms the most 
important part of its commercial business; but it has 
a considerable general trade with all parts of the world. 
We have already intimated that a decline has taken 
place in the commerce of Bristol, and touched on the 
alleved causes; it appears, however, that the home 
trade has suffered more than the foreign, and this is 
attributed to the fact, that the canal communications, 
which have of late years been opened, have given to 
other ports the same facilities for internal intercourse 
which in former times Bristol more peculiarly enjoyed 
by means of its excellent river communications. The - 
following statement, which exhibits the number of 
vessels, with the amount of their tonnage, that entered 
the port of Bristol in different years, will afford the 
best information on the subject. In the year 1769 the 
number of vessels that entered from foreign parts was 
427. ‘The remainder of the statement may be exhi- 
bited tabularly, only observing that in the years imme- 
diately following 1787 there was a considerable increase 
which cannot be precisely stated :— 


British Ships. Tons, Foreign Ships. Tong. 
ee ef, rT i il 
M20 5.6.. Ql ae ae... i Bn 5,652 
4825 ..... 358 ..... 7ShGU.....88.... 11,323 
7230 wi. .c0RO7. .. 18. G6;409 1s. aD. 7,818 
ae? IJ 940 ...08 46,71 ....0 a » ee” 4,382 


In estimating the importance of these numbers, it is 
to be considered that an immense extension of com- 
mercial transactions has taken place during the sixty 
years in whicli the trade of Bristol has remained nearly 
stationary. However, the importance of a trade is not 
exactly to be estimated by the amount of tonnage it 
employs; and while, in this respect, the foreign trade 
of Bristol is inferior to that of Hull and Neweastle, it 
contributes to the customs an amount Inferior to that 
of London and Liverpool only. The manufactures of 
Bristol consist chietly of glass, sugar, braziery, and tin- 
ware; snuff, tobacco, spirits, beer, soap, leather, gun- 
powder, earthenware, white-lead, and other articles of 
less consideration, besides snch as the concourse of 
shipping more immediately requires. 

In the neighbourhood of Gristol are found those six- 
cornered stones called “* Bristol Stones,” which were 
formerly in such great request ; and about a inile below 
the city, on the banks of the Avon, is the celebrated Hot 
Well, the reputation of which has long rendered the 
vicinity the resort of invalids during the summer, and 
gradually produced the accommodations which are usu- 
ally found in connexion with places of a similar descrip- 
tion. The reputation of these wells was once higher 
than at present; but the water is still esteemed for its 


450 THE PENNY MAGAZINE. [DecrmpBeEr 6, 1834. 


purity, and large quantities are sent to different parts | number, 439 are employed in manufacture, or im 
12,640 are em- 

[n the largest extent, and for the purposes of com- | ployed in retail trade, or in handicraft, as masters or 
parison with other towns, the population of Bristol, | workmen; 2,933 are capitalists, bankers, professional, 
according to the Population Returns of 1831, may | or other educated men ; 8,178 are labourers employed 
ne stated at 117,000, although that of the “ city,” | in labour not agricultural ; and 707 are.employed in 
properly so calied, does not exceed 59,074. Of the | agriculture as occupiers or labourers. The number of 
larger number, 53,000 are males, and 64,000 females. | male servants in Bristol is 849, and of female servants 


of the world. making manufacturing machinery ; 


Ut the males above 20 years of age, in the larger | 3601 


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THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 


PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY. [December 13, 1834. 





HOGARTH AND HIS WORKS.—No. VII 


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| - Tue Pourrician. 
Tris piece of exquisite humour is said to have been 
suggested to Hogarth by a living and well-known 
character in his day—a Mr. Tibson, laceman in the 
Strand, who preferred politics to trade, and the 


‘Gazetteer’ newspaper to ledger and day-book. 
Vou, I, 


Never was a ruling passion,—an intentness on a 
favourite subject,—more happily pourtrayed than in 
the print before us. The mere position or seat of the 
old Quidnunc tells a story! From the way in which he 
has squared himself in his chair, you may see he is a 











482 


man determined not to budge until he has conned! his 
dear paper through, to the last line, word, and syllable. 


His short stout legs, with their broad bases of high- | 


quartered shoes, are set down on the floor like pillars! 
It would require a dray-horse to drag him from his 
occupation ! 

To throw a full clear light on his sheet (the only 
sheet, we may be sure, he ever reads), he has taken his 
tallow candle froin its socket, and, indifferent to the 
abomination of grease, holds it in his right hand, 
whilst his left hand grasps his journal,—the Benjamin 
of his heart. The ascending flame has set fire to his 
hat,—has literally burnt a hole through its broad brim. 
The candle is also fearfully burnt down and has 
outtered ;—the red-hot wick and the base of the flame 
are within the eighth of an inch of his fingers and it is 
difficult to say which part of him will be burnt first, 
his forehead, his nose, or his unflinching hand. But 
what of that! He is rapt, and altogether unconscious 
of his danger, and on he will read until the fire reaches 
him. Look at his countenance the while !—with its 
deep lines of thought, and the half acute and half 
solemn compression of his lips! ‘There is many a siege 
and blockade in the dropping corner of that mouth, and 
a campaign ora treaty in every wrinkle of that face ° 

In the days of Hogarth, newspapers dealt only in 
news, and most delighted in “‘wars and rumours of 
wars.’ ‘They had no idea of the step made in our 
times, when a single editor boasts that he directs the 
opinions of three-fourths of his countrymen, (poor 
countrymen !) and thinks it a merit to raise up an idol 
one day to throw it down in the dirt (if he can) the 
next. 

Thanks to the.introduction of narrow-brimmed hats, 
there is now no danger of our Quidnunces setting fire 
to their beavers. Their heads, indeed, are sometimes 
affected and heated more directly by flaming leading 


articles and paragraphs; but the heat is all inwards. | 


There are political occasions on which the people have 
to think and to act, as far as they can act legally ; but 
the only way to think and to act rightly is to be cool, 
and not set their hats or their heads on fire. 





Human Sacrifices in Otaheite.—It is well known that 
the horrid custom of human sacrifice was practised to a 
large extent in Otaheite when the Missionaries first arrived 
in the island, although it was by ne means a rite of an old 
date. Those men were generally selected who had few 
friends, or who happened te have incurred the dishke of 
the priests. They were often marked out long before such 
an Offering was required, and were then called “ Ta-ata 
Taboo,’ that 1s, a man devoted to the deity: so far, how- 
ever, from aspiring to this honour, if the victim suspected 
that it was about to be conferred on him, he generally en- 
deavoured to escape from the neighbourhood. But if so 
unfortunate as to have his refuge discovered, or else to have 
remained without suspicion of his danger, his place of rest 
was noted, and ‘‘ the labourers of the temple ’’ were sent in 


the night to dispatch him and bring his corpse to the Morai. | 


No such person was ever known to have been assisted in 
defending himself against his murderers.— MS. Journal of 
a Voyage. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Section XXXVI. 


CorrErr. 


Tuis metal was one of the earliest with which man 
became acquainted, and from very remote times it has 
been used for various instruments and utensils of 
domestic life. It is, after iron, of all metallic bodies 
the most generally useful in the arts, both in a state of 
purity and in combination with other bodies. It con- 
stitutes one of the most valuable and important pro- 
ducts of the mines of the United Kingdom. 

I'he appearance of pure copper is so familiar to every 
ene as to need no description, 


THE PENNY 


With the exception of } 


MAGAZINE. [DecemBeERr 13, 
the rare metal titanium, it is the only metallic substance 
of ared colour. Its specific gravity is 8.89, or nearly 
nine times heavier than water; it is a little heavier 
than iron, and not quite so much so as silver. It can 
only be melted at a very high temperature, but is more 
fusible than iron; it may be beat into thin leaves, and, 
next to iron, possesses the greatest tenacity of all the 
metals, for a wire one eight-hundredth part of an inch 
in thickness will support a weight of three hundred 
and two pounds without breaking. Its hardness is 
ereater than that of either gold or silver; it is the 
Inost sonorous of all metals, and is therefore used for 
making cymbals, many wind instruments, and bells. 
It'is capable of forming alloys with other metals, but 
in that combination remarkable changes sometimes 
take place. Thus, when alloyed with tin, which ts 
also a ductile metal, the mixture (bell-metal) is quite 
brittle: on the other hand when united with zinc, which 
is a brittle metal, the mixture (brass) is uearly as duc- 
tile as the pure copper. 

Ores of this metal.—Copper is found in a state of 
purity, or that form which mineralogists call ative 
copper, and also in combination with other mineral 
substances, constituting a great variety of ores. These 
may be divided into two great classes : in the one, the 
copper is combined with sulphur and other metals in 
various proportions, or with oxygen; in the other class 
it is in the state of an oxide combined with acids and 
with water. The following tables show the great 
variety of composition which is to be found in the exes 
of this metal. ‘They exhibit the results of analysis by 
different chemical philosophers, omitting, however, the 
more minute fractional parts. The figures express the 
number of grains of the substance at the head of the 
column which are contained in a hundred grains of the 
ore, 























goal = = ies ¢ 

S a @) my o be 

So | x — 2 i 
Yullow Copper Ores. .eosscce. Me) | Gee, 7 
Purple rr .a « ; 
Vitreous ai eM * F- 
Gray GO,  ccccccecce cd ams Mn |] | er) 
Arsenical Gray do. ...... eoes| 40 | TO ae pp 15 2° 
Antimonial do. dO. ..dsyees.-| JO a a i + Me | os 
Red Oxide of Gepper .........} 92a 7 

Se = S) & ad 

Blue Carbonate of Copper} 69 | 51] ..1{4..{../. 6 
Green ditto Y 7a ‘Soe oe 19 
Sulphate of Copper .....¢| do | Gouin . .. 
Muriate of do. ..+..e.| 7a |) 2a J een 
Phosphate of do. ......| 69 | 5. [iene . 
Arseniate of do. ......| 49 |} 35 |e ne On 





Native copper is of common occurrence, but seldom in 
large quantities together in one spot. The finest spe- 
cimens for museums are brought from the mines of 
Siberia, on the eastern side of the Oural Mountains, 
from Hungary, and Saxony, and very good specimens 
are occasionally met with in Cornwall. It is found in 
considerable quantity in Brazil, and also in Japan, and 
it is obtained rather abundantly in the vicinity of the 
Copper Mine River in North America. Masses of it 
have been found in Canada of more than two hundred 
pounds weight. 

More than nine-tenths of the copper of commerce is 
obtained from those ores in which the metal is combined 


j with sulphur and iron, and the yellow copper ore is the 


most abundant of these. The other combinations of 
the metal frequently accompany the sulphurets, but 





1834.] 


are rarely found in sufficient quantity to be smelted by 
themselves. The quantity of copper ‘contained in the 
sulphurets is very variable, on account of the intermix- 
ture of stony and other foreign ingredients, and an 
assay of the ore can alone determine its value. In some 
mines the ore does not contain above 3 per cent. of pure 
copper, and yet it pays for working. The poorer kinds 
of ore are chiefly sulphurets of iron, or iron-pyrites, 
containing copper ; while the richer kinds are sulphurets 
of copper, or copper-pyrites, mixed with iron and arsenic 
in different proportions. 

A considerable quantity of copper is obtained from 
springs containing sulphate of copper, or blue vitriol, 
in solution, which are frequent in copper mines, or in 
hills where the sulphuret occurs, the decomposition of 
the ore by the action of the air and of water changing 
the sulphur into sulphuric acid, which enters into a 
new combination with the metal. ‘The copper is ob- 
tained by immersing plates of old iron in the fluid: the 
acid having a stronger attraction for iron than for 
copper, quits the latter and combines with the iron, 
leaving the metallic copper on the surface of the iron 
plates, and it is then scraped off. This process may be 
easily seen by dissolving a little blue vitriol in water, 
aud if the blade of a table-knife be dipped in the solu- 
tion, in the course of a few minutes it wall have a bright 
coating of metallic copper. ‘This ts one of the most 
ready and correct tests for discovering if any of our food 
be poisoned with copper, which sometimes happens if 
fatty substances or acids be allowed to stand in a copper 
vessel not properly tinned. 

A variety of the @reen carbonate of copper, called 
malachite by mincralogists and jewellers, is used for 
ornamental purposes; it is bright green and opaque, 
and is found in solid rounded masses. When these are 
cut through, they have a waved and silky appearance 
with a great variety of tints, from dark to pale green ; 
the structure very much rcsembling that of the cal- 
cxreous deposits froin petrifying springs, called stalag- 
mites. ‘Che finest specimens of inalachite come from 
Siberia, from a mine not far from Kkaterinbourg; and 
masses have been found of such dimensions as to afford 
slabs for tables. There was some time ago In a mnseum 
at St. Petersburgh a slab thirty-two inches lone, seven- 
teen broad, aud an inch thick, which was valned ac- 
cording to Patrin at 20,0U0 francs, or about 8004. 
When sct in chased gold it has arich and beautiful 
effect in necklaces and earrings. Vessels are some- 
tines brought from China made of what is called white 
copper, which sels in China, when manufactured into 
utensils, for about one-fourth of its weight in silver. 
{t has been analyzed by Dr. Fyffe, who found it to be 
a mixture or alloy of copper, zinc, and the rare metal 
nickel, in the following proportions :— 


Copper. . « «+ « « « A404 
“unre y e ° ® ° @ e e 25 4 
Nickel 9 e e e 8 e e Sil .6 
Jron @ e eo @ ? g # 2 2.6 
100 


Geological situation of Copper.—The ereat deposits 
of this metal occur in the older rocks, both in the sedi- 
mentary strata and in the unstratified rocks, which are 
eenerally considered to be of igneous origin, that is, 
eranites, porphyries, and traps; and it has been met 
with in minute quantity in the lava of existing volcanos. 
Cornwall, which is the greatest copper country in the 
world, is composed entirely of rocks of the primary or 
oldest transition classes, chiefly slate associated with 
ovanite aud porphyry. The slate is called Aiddas in the 
country, the granite growan, and the name elvan, 
although more particularly given to porphyry, is ap- 
plied also to any other rock which is found in the killas 
or granite; sothat a fine-grained granite is often called | 


elvan, if it traverse the ordinary granite of the country. | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE, 


4s 


US 


The copper ore is found in veins composed of a mix- 
ture of the ore with quartz or fluor spar, or both, which 
occur for the most part in the killas, generally a 
greenish argillaceous slate, and veins which have been 
worked in the killas have been often followed into the 
granite, without any change in their magnitude, rich- 
ness, or general composition, althongh for the most part 
a change takes place in the quality of the vein when it 
passes from one rock into another. Mineral veins 
although called by that name from the resemblance of 
their ramified forms to the veins of the human body, 
do not occur like these in any distinct systematic 
arrangement, but with the irregularity and arbitrary 
dispersion of chance cracks in a hard body when frac- 
tured, the cracks being afterwards filled up by a new 
substance injected into them. If we suppose a vertical 
section to be made of a country composed partly of 
granite, and intersected by mineral veins, it woulce 
present an appearance similar to the following figure, - 


pi ia F 
tar an 6 oe 2 

<a so ce 

.s Wns ee % « * 

SE tage > * 

ei. -) 

Sale tee : e 

4 





pa ene 

hee 
cs Ste 

Ses ifen 
= ta 


¢ t f 


= 
OO cw 


-— = = © pees po et ied 


where @ is the unstratified eranite, and 6 the strata of 
slate, In which the continuity is broken by veins filled 
up with various minerals, different from either the slate 
or the granite. It is evident that the substance of the 
veins 1s of posterior formation to the rovks in which 
it is contained. It frequently happens that one series of 
veins intersects another series, as in the following fivure, 





‘where the vein c has evidently been formed after @ and 


b, because it intersects them, and the disturbing force 
which produced the rent that was afterwards filled by 
the matter of the vein c, was such as to throw the vein 
a off its continuous course, for the lower portion is at 
an inferior level to that portion which is above the vein 
c. Evidence of the same disturbance is indicated by 
the changes in the stratification of the slate, which are 
not attempted to be shown in the diagram, as it would 
be difficult to represent such complicated disturbauices 
as usually appear on such occasions. 

The courses of mineral veins are extremely irregular, 
and their phenomena are complicated in the extreme, 
Heuce the hazardous and deceptive nature of mining 
adventures. The theory of the formation of mineral 
veins, whether as to the causes which produced the 
rents, or to the manner in whici these rents were after- 
wards filled up, is involved in the greatest difficulty 


3Q 2 


ds4 


That the grealer part of them were filled by the injec-’ 


tion of melted matter from the interior of the earth, is 
uow the prevailing opinion of geologists,—but there 
are many appearances in veins which cannot be ac- 
counted for on that hypothesis. 

Copper ore is also found in the carboniferous or 
mountain limestone, as in Staffordshire, (O, diagram 1, 
No. 51,) but very sparingly, considering the great 
extent of that formation. In England none of the 
superior strata contain more than occasional traces of 
copper ores, but in Germany there are beds of what 
is there termed kupferschicfer, or copper slate, which 
occupy the same position in the order of stratification 


as the red marl, K, of the series of sedimentary deposits | 


in England, and from that slate a considerable quantity 
of copper is obtained. 

[In our next Section we shall give some account of 
Copper Mines. ] 





MECHANICS’ INSTITUTIONS. 


HINrs FOR THE IMPROVEMENT AND FOR THE EXTENSION OF THE 
Uriniry or Mecnanics’ INsriruTions, 

We have pleasure in extending the knowledge of a very 
interesting paper by Leonard Horner, Esq. on ‘Mechanics’ 
Institutions,’ which paper we abridge from the ‘ Printing 
Machine. Mr. Horner’s experience in subjects con- 
nected with the Education of the People, entitles his 
opinions to great attention. Most of the Mechanics’ 
Iustitutions may be said by this time to have passed 
through a state of probation, and their success has 
been very various: some have gone on flourishing and 
increasing in usefulness from their first establishinent 
—others have fallen off and languished ; some, it Is to 
be feared, have ceased to exist. The causes of failure 
have, no doubt, also been various; the difficulty of 
finding’ good lecturers has been one great source of 
vant of success, but more, perhaps, is to be ascribed 
to defects in the scheme of instruction. 

The audience of a Mechanics’ Institution being com- 
posed of persons following a great variety of traces, to 
teach the processes in detail of any particular art, even 
if it were practicable for any good purpose in such a 
place, would only interest a limited number. ‘The sub- 
jects to be taught must thercfore be such as will be 
useful aud interesting to all. The branches of sctence 
which are of most general application, are unquestion- 
ably the principles of chemistry and of mechanical phi- 
losophy ; for there is no art that is practised, the pro- 
cesses of which do not ina greater or less degree depend 
upon one or other, or upon both, of these principles. 
‘T'o treat these effectually, that is, in such a manner that 
the pupil shall get such a familiar acquaintance with 
them as to be able to apply them in practice, a syste- 
matic course is requisite—a course well planned before- 
hand, from which all that is extraneous to the purpose 
has been carefully rejected, and in which all that is 
inost important is fully dwelt upon. The lecturer must 
duly consider the capacities of his audience as recipients 
of what he is teaching,—not as regards their natnral 
abilities, but their previous preparation. He must 
recollect that they are not like students at a college, 
whose sole occupation it is to learn, but persons who 
ave spent a long day in, it may be, a laborious and 
exhausting employment, and with few advantages for 
private study: to use a colloquial expression, he must 
be careful not to shoot over the lieads of his hearers. 
‘Che lecturer must be no less on his guard against being 
led into the more abstruse and difficnlt parts of lis 
subject by an ambition to exhibit at the conclusion of 
his course some distinguished pupils who, in prize 
exercises, may display extraordinary acquirements ; for 
while these few would be following him, the majority 
vould inevitably be lost, and be very likely to be thus 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[December 13, 


driven to inattention by despair: his true ambition 
should be to turn out the largest possible number 
thoroughly conversant with that which may be acquired 
by average talents and reasonable attention. ‘The 
student, on the other hand, must recollect that, as there 
is no royal road, so likewise is there no mechanic’s road 
to knowledge; that before he can get a fast hold of the 
information he is in search of, he must work loug, 
patiently, and systematically. If college lectures do 
comparatively little good without frequent examinations 
and repetitions, such a practice is doubly necessary 
in a Mechanics’ Institution. They must be conducted, 
however, in such a manner as not to alarm the timid, 
and should be as much as possible in the style of 
conversation between the lecturer and his pupils, 
trying to elicit whether he has been rightly under- 
stood: ‘This, with: the repetition of the more im- 
portant experiments, will give an ample opportunity 
of setting in a clear point of view and of forcibly 
impressing all that is most difficult of apprehension. 
To teach the general principles of chemistry with that 
copiousness of illustration by experiments which shall 
be most likely to fix them in the mind of the student, 
a continuous course of not less than thirty lectures ts 
necessary ; nor will the student have acquired a thorough 
acquaintance wéth them until he has twice gone over 
such a course,—reading, at the same time, a good ele- 
mentary treatise. Neither can the principles of me- 
chanical philosophy be properly explained in a course 
of shorter duration; and the student, before he can 
comprehend them, must have acquired a competent 
knowledge of arithmetic, algebra, and geometry. There 
is no shorter way: it is vain to expect that accurate 
knowledge in either branch can be purchased at a less 
cost of time and study; and without an acquaintance 
with aleebra and geometry, the most useful works on 
mechanical philosophy must be unintelligible, But, 
under a@ judicious system, there is nothing to prevent 
a mechanic from acquiring the knowledge here spoken 
of, although he be daily occupied in his trade,—taking 
into account, also, the very limited portion of time he 
has at his disposal, and the other disadvantages he 
labours under, when compared with a young man occu- 
pied only with his education. 

It must be farther remenibered, that in all seminaries 
of instruction, unless the pupil have some object sct 
before him which is to be the reward of successful exer- 
tion, even the well-disposed will grow languid, and 
sink into indiffereuce. The number of those who toil 
from the mere love of learning, is small indeed. Had 
it not been for the hieh prizes which were to be won in 
schools and universities, science and learning would 
have advanced at a much slower pace than they have 
done. In the universities, the students are excited to 
labour by the degree which is to be conferred upon 
them, if found competent, at the close of their academical 
career,—an honour merely to many, but a substantial 
benefit to most, in their future professional prospects. 
Now,’ until something analogous to degrees be esta- 
blished in Mechanics’ Institutions—until some winning 
post at the end of the course be set up before the eyes 
of the student, the severer studies will uever go on 
with alacrity, and one of the most important objects 
of such schools will thus fail to be accomplished. Nar 
will such a result arrue any particular want of zeal or 
of capacity for such knowledge on the part of the 
mechanic; it will only prove that those stimulants to 
exertion have been wanting which all experience has 
shown to be necessary in order to overcome the vis 
inerfte which obstructs the progress and limits the use- 
fulness of the greater portion of mankind. 

The School of Arts, or Mechanics’ Institution of Edin- 
burgh, was founded thirteen years ago, ‘* for the in- 








| struction of mechanics in such branches of physical 


1$34.] 

science as are co? wractical application in their several 
trades,” and has confined itself almost exclusively to 
that object to the present day. JI took an active part 
in its first establishment, and have never ceased to take 
an interest in its progress. Two years ago, the number 
of students, though considerable (above 200), had 
materially diminished; and although that falling off 
could fairly be ascribed, ina great degree, to circum- 
stances independent of the management of the institu- 
tion, yet it appeared to me that something was wanting 
to excite a sustained and lively interest in what was 
going on in the Iecture-rooms ; and I submitted to the 
Directors a plan which seemed to me calculated to 
remedy that defect. It met with their approbation, 
and was acopted ; 
year in which it has been in operation, there is every 
appearance of its being attended with the most bene- 
ficial results. The course of instruction is as follows :— 

I. There is a junior class of Mathematics, which 
meets twice a week, and in which the following branches 
are taught :— 

Arithmetic, including Vulgar and Decimal Frac- 
tions ; 

Algebra, as far as Simple and Quadratic Equations ; 

Geonietry, first and second books of Kuch. 

In this class, a portion of each hour of teaching: is 
devoted to exercises and examinaticus. 

TI. There is a senior class of Mathematics, which 
ineets once a week, in which the followine branches are 

taueht :— 

Geometry, the remaining books of E:nclid ; 

Logarithms ; 

Mensuration and Trigonometry, with their various 
practical applications. 

in this class also a portion of each hour of teaching 
is devoted to exercises and examinations. 

IW. There is a class of Natural Philosophy, illns- 
trated by experiments, which meets once a week, and 
in which the following branches are taught :— 

Mechanics, including Statics and Dynamics ; 

ilydrostatics, Hydraulics, Pneumatics, and Optics, 
with such additional matter as time may permit of. 

A part of every fourth Lecture of this course is de- 
voted to examinations on the subjects treated of in the 
three preceding Lectures. 

IV. There isa class of Chemistry, in which the prin- 
cipies of the science are taught, to~ether with their 
application in the chief arts and manufactures in the 
processes of which chemical principles are involved. 
This class meets once a week, and a part of every 
fourth Lecture of this course also is deyoted to examiia- 
tions upon the subjects of the three preceding: Lectures. 

V. The winter session is from the Ist of October to 
the 30th of April, 
devoted to examinations as the Directors may find 
necessary. ‘The fee for each of the four classes above- 
mentioned separately, the Junior Mathematics, the 
Senior Mathematics, the Natural Philosophy, and the 
Chemistry, is five shillings. <A ticket whith gives 
admission to all the Lectures is 12s. The privileges 
of the library are extended to all students, whether 
attending one or more Classes. 

Tt is left optional to the students gencrally to attend 
all or any of the above classes; but in order to lead 
them to a systematic course of study, and to excite them 
to perseverance in it, the reward is held out of their 
being admissible as Members o¥ tne Scuoor oF Arrs 
for life, and of thereby becoming entitled to free admis- 
sion to all the lectures, and, for a very small fee, to the 
use of the library. Before, however, this honourable 
distinction can be conferred, the student is required to 

eo through the following course: 

During the first year, he must — the junior 


Mathematical class alone, 


such part of the month of April being | 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


and although this is only the second 


485 


During the second year, he must attend the senior 
Mathematical and the Chemistry classes; and 

During the third year, he must attend the Natural 
Philosophy and the Chemistry classes. 

At the conclusion of the session there is an examina- 
tion of the students of each class, conducted by the lec- 
turer, in the presence of at least two Directors, or other 
competent judges named by them; and all those stu- 
deuts who are found to possess a fair knowledve of the 
subject tanght in the class, will receive an allestalion 
of nroficiency therein. 

Every student, who at the conclusion of three years’ 
attendance shall be able to preduce attestations of pro- 


| ficiency from all the classes in the course of study 


already mentioned, shall receive a certificate, signed by 
the lecturers and two of the Directors, which shall 
declare that the person to whom it is oranted has re- 
ceived a regular education at, the bin nee H SCHOOL, 
or Arrs, in Arithmetic, Algebra, Geometry, the prin- 
ciples of Natural Philosophy atl Chenisiry, during: 
three years’ attendance ; and that he has been found, 
upon examination, to possess a competent knowledee 
of all these branches. 

The possession of such a document as this certificate 
calmot fail to be of great value to a young man in after 
life ; it will be the strongest evidence that he has 
passed his leisure hours for three years industriously 
and usefully, and is therefore of a well-disposed mind ; 
and it must be a powerful recommendation in his favour 
on any future occasion of his applying for a situation in 
a business in which an accnrate knowledye of such 
branches of science is desirable. 

It will ereatly extend the usefulness of mechanics’ 
institutions if a reading-room be attached. It imust 
frequently happen that students belonging to them have 
no comfortable quiet room at home to which they can 
retire to study; and undisturbed quiet is especially 
necessary to persons in their circumstances, if the subject 
of the book they are reading require close attention. 
There is no obstacle to advancement so seriously felt 
by that class of persons as the want of good dictionaries 
and other books of reference, generally far too ex- 
pensive for private acquisition; and such a_ reading- 
room, under proper arrangements, might be made to 
afford @reat facilities in this way. Besides, there are 
in the hbraries of most mechanics’ institutions large 
and expensive works, maps, plans, &c., which cannot 
be lent out, and therefore as extensive opportunities as 
possible should be afforded for consulting them. <A 
rezding-room well furnished, warmed and lighted, pro- 
sided with some of the most useful periodicals, dic- 
tionaries, gazetteers, inaps, &c., and open from six or 
seven to ten every evening, would be a very attractive 
place, anc wonld prove of the greatest valne to many. 
It would probably be found necessary to limit the 
admission to the students of the current year only, in 
order to prevent overcrowding. To preserve con- 
sistency In the objects of such a place, it would be in- 
dispensable to exclude newspapers: these must be read 
elsewhere. 


emeoe eas 





OLD TRAVELLERS.—BUSBEQUIUS.—No. I. 
Yunis excellent traveller, who has left us an eloquent 
account of Constantinople and Turkey at a period when 
the Ottoman Empire was at its highest pitch of power 
and splendour, was, like Father Rubruquis, a lative of 
the Low Countries. He was born at Commines, a town 
on the river Lis, in the year 1522, He was the illegiti- 
mate son of aman of rank. His real name was Busbec, 
which, according to the fashion of his country and times, 
was latinized into Busbequius, the appellation under 
which he is ipvarianly known in literature. His father, 
it appears, was too proud to marry a woman of inferiog 


| condition, but he brought up her child in his own house 


486 


with extreme care, sparing no expense on his educa- 
tion. Youne Busbee’s progress was very rapid, and 
his talents aud disposition were so promising, that his 
father was induced to apply to his sovereign, the Eim- 
peror Charles V., for a rescript of legitimacy, which 
act was obtained in the usnal manner by money. 

Rusbequius was sent to study successively at Lou- 
vain, Paris, Venice, Bologna, and Padua, which then 
boasted the best schools and universities on the con- 
tinent. Elaving finished his studies, he visited London, 
«where he passed some time with Don Pedro Lasso, am- 
bassador at the English court from Ferdinand, who 
was then titular King of the Romans, but afterwards 
Ferdinand I., Emperor of Germany, &c. After being 
present in the train of his Excellency Don Pedro at 
the solemnization of the ill-aungured marriage between 
Philip If. of Spain and our Queen Mary (on the 25th 
of July, 1554), he returned to Flanders with increased 
knowledge and experience of public affairs. His repu- 
tation indeed stood so high, and his friends at court 
were so influential, that a few months after his return 
from England he was selected for a difficult and most 
critical mission to the Turks, who had conquered a 
ereat part of Hungary, and spread terror and conster- 
nation even to the eates of Vienna. Busbequius was 
staying at Lisle when, on the 3rd of November, 1554, 
he unexpectedly received a letter from King Ferdinand, 
sulnmoning him instantly to Vienna. Paying a hurried 
visit to the paternal estate, to take leave of his father 
aud friends, he repaired to Brussels, where he met his 
friend Don Pedro Lasso, ‘‘ who,” he says, ‘* spurred 
me on to the journey, showing me the king’s letters to 
him (Don Pedro) too, commanding him to press me 
forward: so that I unmediately took horse, and made 
what haste I could to Vienna.” 

Our diplomatic couriers, and other hurried travellers, 
who can now fly with such comfortable speed from one 
ed of Europe to the other in an easy carriage, finding 
regular relays of post-horses wherever they go, and 
nearly everywhere, except in parts of Spain and Por- 
tueal, good roads and excellent accommodations, would 
shrink from such a journey as the refined and hitherto 
literary and sedentary Busbequins had to perform, 280 
years ago, In the middle of winter. He says—‘t My 
journey from Brussels to Vienna was very troublesome, 
beth by reason of my unaccustomedness to ride upon 
such inconvenient horses as I could then get, and also 
because the season of the year was not fit for travelling, 
the weather being tempestuous, the roads deep and 
muddy, and the days short; so that I was forced to 
berrow a great part of the night, and to pass through 
unfrequented ways in the dark, not without the greatest 
hazard of my life.” 

Tiaving received the instructions of King Ferdinand, 
Busbeqnius prepared in all haste for his embassy. 
Gefore starting, however, at Ferdinand’s desire he 
rode to Comora to consult with one Malvezius who 
had been long resident at Constantinople, and who 
was supposed to be well acquainted with the cha- 
racter, dispositions, manners, and customs of the Turks, 
as well as with their diplomatic craft and_ political 
latrines. 
a malady he had contracted during a two years’ con- 
finement in the Seven Towers, a horrible state prison 
at the southern corner of Constantinople, into which 
the Turks were accustomed éhen, and indeed down to 
our own days, to cast the ambassadors of Christian 
powers on any provocation. Notwithstanding his 
sufferings, the unfortunate envoy calmly instructed his 
successor, and during two days that Busbequius passed 
with him, he was cautioned and armed against the 
impositions and violence of the crafty and captious 
‘Lurks, and instrueted as to what he was to do and say, 
and what to avoid in his intercourse with them, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


Poor Malvezius was dying at the time of 


[December 13, 


Whereupon,” continues Busbequius, “‘ I posted back 
to Vienna, and began with great application and dili- 
gence, to prepare necessaries for my Journey. But such 
was the flush of business, and so little the time allowed 
to despatch it, that when the day fixed for my departure 
came, though the Kine did earnestly press me forward, 
and I had been extreinely busy all the day in equipping 
myself, and in causing bag and baggage to be packed 
up, even from the fourth watch, yet it was the first 
watch of the following night before I could be quite 
ready; but then the gates of Vienna, which at that 
time of the night used to be shut, were opened on pur- 
pose for me.” 

In those days he had not far to travel before he came 
in contact with the Turks, whose advanced posts pressed 
closely upon the Austrian frontier. ‘The day after his 
departure from Vienna was lost by waiting at Comora 
for an experienced Hungarian, who was to accompany 
him; but on the third day, after having crossed the 
river Vaga, and travelled three hours in a vast plain, he 
saw afar off four Turkish horse-soldiers advancing to 
meet him. At this sight the sixteen Hungarian 
hussars that escorted him were halted and sent to the 
right-about, lest, coming in contact with the Mussv!l- 
mans, *‘ some troublesome bickerings should have hap- 
pened between them.” 

Being joined by the four Turks, Busbequius went on 
his journey. He had not proceeded far, when, on 
descending into a low valley, he saw himself suddenly 
surrounded by a party of about 150 horse. He seems 
to have been startled at the unexpected appearance of 
such a force, which, however, was only intended as an 
honourable escort. His description of this eastern 
cavalry is lively and picturesque. 

** It was a very pleasant spectacle,” he says, “ to a 
man like me, unaccustomed to see such siglits, for their 
bucklers and spears were curiously painted, their 
sword-handles bedecked with jewels, their plumes of 
feathers parti-coloured, and the coverings of their heads 
being twisted linen (¢urbans) as white assnow. Their 
apparel was purple-coloured, or at least a dark-blue; 
they rode upon stately mettlesome steeds, that were 
caparisoned with most beautiful trappings.” 

These troops conducted him with much civility to the 
castle of Gran, which was situated on a hill above the 
Danube, and garrisoned by the Turks. The Hungarian 
city of Gran lay in the plain beneath the hill. Here 
Busbequius says he was entertained “not after a 
courtly, but after a military manner.” At night the 
Turks spread coarse shaggy rugs upon hard boards 
as beds for his attendants, and there were no sheets or 
coverlets ; ** but as for myself,” he adds, °* I fared hettev, 
for my bed was carried along with me wheresoever I 


The next day the Turkish governor, with all his 
retmmue and a large body of horse, accompanied Busbe- 
quius some distance on his journey to Buda. ‘* Phe 
cavalry,” he says, *‘ as soon as we came out of the 
gates, began to show me some sport,—curvetting and 
charging one another. They also threw their bonnets 
on the ground, and, galloping their horses with full 
speed by them, they took them up on the points of 
their spears; and many more such active pranks did 
they perform. Amongst the rest of them there was a 
‘Tartar, who had thick bushy hair hanging down over 
his shoulders: they told me he always went bare- 
headed, and would never have any other defence for his 
head, either against the inclemency of the weather or 
the hazards of battle, than his own hair.” ‘This man 
was probably one of the sct called Dvlhis (literally, 
madmen”) who were the desperadoes and fanatics of 
the ‘Turkish army, and whose courage, or bliud fury, 
and self-devotion to the prophet, were generally kept 
alive by copious doses of opium, Until very recently, 








1834.] 


no Turkish forces ever took the field without having a 
number of these madmen in their van. Upon his 
arrival at Buda, the pasha sent an officer to compliment 
him, and to inform him that a grievous malady pre- 
vented the pasha from receiving him at present. 

On making inquiries, Busbequius found the prevail- 
ing opinion was, that the pasha’s malady was grief, | t 
arising out of the loss of a great sum of money which 
had been stolen from the place where (in Turkish 
fashion) he had buried it. However this may have 
been, as soon as the pasha learned that the ambassador 
had with him one ‘‘ Master William Quackelben, a 
great philosopher, and an excellent physician to boot,” 
he entreated Busbequius to send him the practitioner 
that he might eive him some physic. ‘The ambassador 
immediately complied ; but he soon began heartily to 
repent of the transaction. The pasha, instead of 
crowing better after the doctor's visit, grew worse and 
worse,—and at last there seemed no hope of his ever 
recovermg. Had the great man died, the Turks would 
have laid his death at the door of the physician, whose 
life under such circumstances would not have been 
worth much, whilst Busbequius himself would have 
been exposed to suspicion as an accomplice ; 5. Toe, 
luckily for all parties, after many days of anxiety and 
fear, the pasha was restored to health. 

It was at Buda that our. ambassador first got sight 
of the redoubtable Janizaries, who were at that time 
the most numerous and altogether the best-disciplined 
body of infantry in the world, Busbequius compares 
them to the Pretorian guard of ancient Rome. He 
says,—-** Their dress is a lone garment down to their 
ancles ; upon their heads they wear the sleeve of a coat 
or cloak—the head is put into part of it, and the rest 
of the sleeve hangs down behind, flapping upon their 
shoulders ; in the front of it there rises a silver cone, 
somewhat long, @ilt over, and enwroughted with jewels 
of an ordinary. quality. These Janizaries usually came 
to pay me visits by couples. When they were admitted 
into my dining-room, they bowed down their heads and 
made obeisance, and presently they ran hastily to me, 

and tonched either my garment or my hand as if they 
would have kissed it, and then forced upon me a bundle 
or nosegay of hyacinths or narcissuses, and then pre- 
sently retired backward with equal spcecd to the coor, 
Wt so they might not turn their backs to me (for 
that is aceounted indecent by the rules of their order). 
When they reached the door, there they stood, with 
a great modesty and silence, with their hands upon 
their breasts, and fixing their eyes upon the ppm SO 
that they seemed more like monks than soldiers. But 
when I had given them some cash (which was what 
they came for), they bowed their heads again, and, 
giving me thanks with a loud voice, wished me all hap- 
piness, and departed. The truth is, unless [ had been 
told before what they were, | should have taken them 
for a kind of Turkish monks, or fellows of some college 
orother amongst them. Yet these are the J anizaries that 
carry such a terror with them wheresoever they come.’ 

When Busbeqnius compared the Janizaries to monks 
he was probably not aware how many truly monastic 
features were included in the original institution of that 
powerful corps. At their first “establishment, in the 
reign of Amurath I., the Janizaries were wholly com- 
posed of Christian youths, the children of the conquered 
or captured, who were taken when yonng, brought up 
most carefully in the Mohammedan faith, and educated 
to the use of arms. This new militia was consecrated 
and named by Hadji-Bektash, a celebrated dervish or 
Turkish monk, who stretched the broad sleeve of his robe 
over the heads of the principal officers, loading’ them 
with blessings, and promising them, in the name of 
Allah and Mahomet, a most brilliant series of conquests 
and success, and called them Yeni-tcher?, which means 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


| tion of them some ten years ago. 


A87 
“ "rhe new troop.” For these reasons the Janizaries 
ever afterwards adopted the surname of Bekfashis, cou- 
sidered the dervish in the light of their patron saiut, 
and adopted the sleeve of his robe in their uniform. 

They lived together in odas, or companies, having 
nearly everything: j In common, like some of the orders of 
the Catholic monks, and like monks they were, by the 
original laws of their incorporation, condemned to a life 
of celibacy. In after years these severe laws were set 
aside—they ceased to be recrnited by Christian youths 
—one by one nearly all their original institutions 
were depar ted from,—and finally, the body the dervish 
had _ blessed, instead of being the best disciplined and 
bravest of troops, became the most turbulent, nnwarlike, 

and contemptible, which they certainly were when the 
relening Sultan Mahmoud effected his horrible destruc- 
But at the time of 
our traveller their discipline was at its most perfect 
stage, and their organization had very recently been 
revised and invigorated by Solyman the Great, who 
was perhaps, on the whole, the most energetic and 
severe of all the Turkish Sultans. At the end of his 


journey, when Busbequius was admitted in state to an 


audience of the great Solyman, he gives the following 
aaditional and ¢ eraphic description : _— 

“Tt was all hush; not so much as a word spoken 
among them all—no humming noise as among our 
multitudes—no jostling one another »—but every par- 
ticular man quietly keeping nisrown stelien, * “ye * * 
Among the rest I most admired the Janizaries. Line 
there were several thousands of them, yet they stood a 
a distance one from another, s 
stock still, as we say, as if they had been statues; so 
that [, who was at some distance from them, at first 
thought verily they had been statues, till being told to 
salute them, as the customis, I saw them all bow their 
heads at once, by way of re-salutation unto me,” 





THE BLACK GATE OF TREVES.. 


Treves, in German 7’rier, is perhaps the most ancient 
town of Germany. It was a place of considerable im- 
portance in the time of Julius Cesar, as the chief city 
of the Treviri, and is often alluded to by Tacitus. Am- 
mianus Marcellinns called it a second Rome, from the 
maenincence of its public buildings; and the emperors 
frequently made it their place of residence. Many 
Roman remains are still to be found, and coins, medals, 
and inscriptions are not unfrequently discovered in the 
neighbourhood. ‘The remains of the baths are extensive ; 
but scarcely any traces exist of the circus and amphi- 
theatre. The most important Roman monument is 
that of the arch called the “ Black Gate,” a representa- 
tion of which is given in the engraving, and which 
appears never to have been completed. ‘The successive 
ravages of the Huns, the Franks, and the Normans, 
did much towards the destruction of the Roman mag- 
nificence for which ‘Treves was once celebrated, and 
time has effected the rest. ‘The Black Gate is still ina 
good state of preservation. ‘Ihe piers of the bridge on 
the Moselle are the work either of the Romans or 
Gauls. The Cathedral of St. Peter, built on the only hill 
in the town, is a large and massive edifice. The 
altars and a marble val! lery also render the Cathedral 
an object of interest, Another Gimmren, that of St. 
Simeon, is said to occupy the site of the building used 
by the Gauls for their public meetings, and by the 
Romans for a capitol, or town-house. ‘The Electoy’s 
Palace is converted into barracks, and the University, 
established in 1454,-has been changed into a Gym- 
nasium, The atic Library contains about 70,000 
volumes, and there is a society established in the place 

which possesses a good collection of antiquities and 
natural curiosities, ‘There is some trade carried on in 


A$8 


wine, @rain, and wood: and in the environs are to be 
found indications of iron, copper, lead, and silver. 

[t is said that the Binsin faith was introduced at 
Treves during the life of St. Peter, and that one of 
the seventy-two disciples was its first bishop. ‘The 
date at which it was erected into an archbishopric is 
disputed. Some accounts say that Pope John con- 
ferred this dignity in 969. Soon after this period, the 
archbishops exercised all the authorty of sovereign 
princes, and this ecclesiastical government continued 
for several centuries, the archbishops nominating the 
magistrates, fixing the taxes, and keeping the keys of 
the city. The archbishops were likewise electors of 
the German empire, and consequently possessed of 
high political privileges. The pretensions of their 
ecclesiastical governors were often opposed by the 
inhabitants of Treves, and the Emperors occasionally 
interfered in these disputes, and obtained the con- 
cession of afew privileges for the struggling people ; 
but in 1569 it was besieged by one of the archbishops, 
who raised the siege on condition of being allowed to 
re-enter the town with his troops. In 1585, in conse- 
quence of a decree of the electors, it was fully placed 


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: ..  e* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of. Useful Tnowlallge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 
— , LONDON :—CHUARLES KNIGHT, 22, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


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[December 13, 1534. 


under the power of its archbishop, and was compelled 
to endure additional ecclesiastical burdens. In 1681 
Treves was taken by the French; and in 1703, 1705, 
and 1734 they again rendered themselves masters of it. 
On the 8th of Augnst, 1794, it once more fell into the 
power of the French, who made it the chief town of the 
department of the Sarre.. ,The electorate was sup- 
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Treves is situated in the centre of a large valley, 
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Printed by Wiit1as Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 








THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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[DecemBer 20, 1834, 


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A490 


Tits remarkable city is situated in 36° 49’ north lati- 
tude, 3° 25’ east longitude, on the southern shore of the 
Mediterranean Sea, the waves of which wash its walls. 
It is built in the form of an irregular triangle, the 
base of which is formed by the sea-coast. ‘The streets 
of the town are remarkably narrow; filthy, and uneven ; 
very few of them cross others at right angles, and very 
few are straight. The principal street extends from 
east to west, traversing the town in its greatest 
breadth: its length is 1200 paces, and its breadth 
twelve. It contains the best shops, the houses of tie 
principal merchants, and the market for corn and all 
provisions: in all the other streets it is rarely that 
two persons can pass abreast. The inconvenient 
construction of the streets manifests not only the bad 
taste of the inhabitants, but indicates the absence of 
those numerous and complicated relations which are 
found in modern European towns, as well as the want 
of vehicles of burthen or convenience. Similar causes 
produced towns of a similarly bad construction in 
Europe in the imiddle ages. The liouses, as in most 
other Moslem towns, are square, enclosing an open 
court in the middle; into which, and not into the street, 
all the windows open. Previously to the French expe- 
dition of 1830, an order of the Dey was in force which 
directed that every householder should whitewash the 
walls of his house once every year; this practice gave 
to the city, as viewed from a distance, an appearance 
which a French writer compares to that of an im- 
mense piece of linen extended in the sun: the glare 
of these white walls was very distressing to the eyes. 
The roofs, as in most southern and oriental towns, are 
flat, and in the evening the families resort to them to 
enjoy the sea-breeze. Formed into terraces, they often 
support gardens with pavilions, or closets, to which the 
master of the house withdraws at the hour of the szesta ; 
and, reclining upon a sofa, amuses himself by smoking 
the tobacco of the Levant, or by chewine opium, while 
his attention seems directed to the sea, the softened roar 
of whose waves lulls him to slumber. As the houses are 
contiguous, a person may walk from one end of the town 
to the other along the terraces; but it is, nevertheless, very 
rare that any one complains of having his house robbed. 
House robbery does not indeed often occur in any of the 
Mohammedan towns; and, in the instance of Algiers, 
there was, previously to the French conquest, a severe 
law which punished with death any one found in the 
house of another without being able to assign a legiti- 
mate motive for his presence. Some few houses are of 
a very superior description, being paved with marble, 
and lined with wainscot, carved with some elegance, 
aud gilt or painted in the best style of Moslem taste. 
‘There are some handsome buildings without the town, 
and a great number of tombs, some of which are fur- 
nished with oratories, to which the inhabitants resort 
every Friday. 

The town of Algiers contained thirteen large mosques, 
with minarets, and about seventy small ones, or chapels, 
as we should call them, belonging to private individuals. 
There were alsoa synagogue for the Jews, and a chapel 
and hospital for the Christians, the last of which was 
supported at the expense of the Spanish government. 
The palace of the Deys Was in the lower part of the 
town; but the late Dey had his residence within the 
citadel, at the highest point of the city. The town de- 
rives from the country a tolerable supply of water, which 
is brought to it by an aqueduct, and then distributed 
hy conduits to the different parts of the city. Algiers 
contains the usual proportion of baths and coffee-houses, 
but there are none that appear to claim particular 
notice. The batteries which cefend the town towards 
the sea are considered very strong, but those on the 
land side are so weak and exposed that they offered no 
very serious obstacle to the progress of the French, who 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


approached the place in that direction. ‘The mole 
constructed by Barbarossa’s brother, Khair-ed-din, is 
built on a small island that faces the town, in the form 
of a semicircle, with a large opening into the haven, 
which is 150 fathoms long and 80 broad; and in 
which the largest vessels may ride in safety. The mole 
is defended by a castle,..which stands upon the solid 
rock, and which also serves as a light-house. It has 
three batteries of cannon, At the south end of the 
island there is another fort, consisting of three batteries 
to defend the entrance of the harbour. 

The population of Algiers was estimated at 70,000 
before its subjection to the French, since which it has 
undergone considerable diminution—perhaps of one- 
fourth—by emigration; but, on the other hand, it is to 
be remembered that the French army of occupation in 
the territory amounts to 24,862 men, with 2,775 horses, 
It appears from the French ‘Annuaire d’Alger for 1933, 
that the prices of commodities have undergone a very 
considerable increase during the period’ in which the 
town has been under French authority. Thus, the 
average price of an ass has augmented from 12s. to 
26. 10s.; a horse from 2/. to 8/.; a mule (the use of 
horses was interdicted to the Moors) from 6/. to 141. ; 
an ox from 15s, to 2l, 10s.; and a sheep from 2s, to 
10s.: the camel, of which the French make no use, 
has preserved its former price. The prices of other 
necessaries have increased in nearly the same proper- 
tion as those of animals: thus, for instance, the value 
of corn and wood has been doubled. 

Previously to the French invasion the ‘state. of 
Algiers was nominally subject to the Turkish sultan, 
but was, in point of fact, perfectly independent. The 
Turkish dominion at Algiers originated with the famous 
Turkish corsair whom we call Barbarossa, but whose 
real name was Horush, or Baba (Father) Horush,’ as 
his men were accustomed to call him. This person 
was called in by the Algerine Moors in 1516 to assist 
them against the Spaniards, and availed himself of 
the opportunity to make himself master of the place; 
but he ruled so tyrannically as to provoke the Moors 
to revolt, and he was killed in 1518, fighting at the 
head of his Turks. He, however, left a brother to 
succeed him, who, in order to secure his authority, 
placed himself under the protection of the then mighty 
Turkish empire, the ruler of which, Selim I., appeinted 
him Pasha and Regent of Algiers, and sent him a body 
of Janissaries. . From that time the Sultan used to. 
appoint the pasha of Algiers, who was at the same time 
commander of the forces, and to send men and money 
for the service of the garrison. But in the seventeentit 
century the Turkish militia obtained the right of choosing 
their own commander, and of paying themselves out 
of the revenue of the regency: the Sultan, however, 
continued to send a pasha, as civil governor, until the 
beginning of the last century, when Baba Ali Dey, a 
chief of the militia, seized the then pasha, put him on 
board a ship, and sent him back to Constantinople 
The rebel did not omit to send by the same vessel 
envoys with rich presents to the vizier and other prin- 
cipal officers of the Porte, intimating to them that the 
rejected pasha had treacherous designs, and that it 
would be well that the chief of the militia should in 
future perform the duties of the civil governor also, 
subject, of course, to the approbation of the sultan. 
The Porte was obliged to wink at this transaction; and 
from that time the Janissaries, with their chosen chief, 
have been absolute masters at Algiers. The dignity 
of Dey was one which the lowest soldier might hope 
one day to fill; but it was held by a most precarious 
tenure, as the tives of comparatively few of these military 
povernors have been allowed to reach their natura! 
termination. 

‘The piratical character of the state appears to have 


[December 20, 











1834] 


been derived from Barbarossa, who left his ships to his 
brother. From that time down to a very recent period 
the piratical pursuits of the Algerines, with their con- 
comitant barbarities, constituted a nuisance which it is 
marvellous that the powerful maritime states of Kurope 
should so long have tolerated. It is true that attempts 
have been made at different times to put an end to it; 
and some of the more important of such attempts 
require to be noticed. 

The first was made by Charles V. in 1541, at thie 
urgent entreaty of Pope Paul III]., who was greatly 
alarmed at the increasing power and audacity of the 
Aleverine pirates, who did not respect even the patri- 
mony of St. Peter. The emperor, whose own Spanish 
territories on the Mediterranean were daily exposed to 
insult and injury, and who was not without the hope of 
adding one more to his many crowns, readily undertook 
to put down the nuisance, having first taken the pre- 
caution of obtaining a promise of co-operation from 
several Arab chiefs. The fleet destined to this service 
left Carthagena on the 15th of October, in the above 
year; but its formidable appearance did not intimidate 
the pirates, who, being assisted by a terrible tempest, 
obtained an easy victory over the imperial fleet. 
Thenceforth the Algerine corsairs deemed themselves 
invincible, and their insolence and rapacity increased in 
proportion. The states of Europe seem to have enter- 
tained nearly the same opinion of them; for we soon 
after find nearly all of them, with the exception of 
England, forming alliances with the Algerines, and 
agreeing to purchase exemption from the attacks of 
the corsairs by certain periodical payments which the 
Algerines themselves called ‘* tribute”—and not without 
reason. ‘These tributes continued, in most instances, 
to be paid down to the year 1830. 

The next great expedition against Algiers took place 
in 1681, when Louis XIV., indignant at the outrages, 
in violation of existing treaties, of which the Aleerines 
were almost daily guilty, sent the Admiral Duquesne 
awainst tlem with twelve ships of war, fifteen galleys, 
three fire-ships, and several small vessels. Five bomb- 
vessels, under the orders of the celebrated Renau, who 
originally devised the means of rendering bomb-mortars 
available in vessels, completed this formidable arma- 
ment. Algiers was then, for the first time, bombarded 
with such vigour that the Dey yielded, and one of his 
ministers went in his name to the court of Versailles to 
ask pardon for the infractions of treaties of which his 
master had been guilty, and to promise better conduct 
in time to eome. But three years had not elapsed 
before they recommenced their insults upon the French 
flaw, and were punished anew by Marshal d’Estrées, 
who bombarded their capital and reduced it to ashes, 
but not until all the French in the city had been 
murdered, and their consul had been fastened alive to 
the mouth of acannon and shot against the bombarding 
fleet. This affair, which ended in the most abject sub- 
mission, obliged the Algerines to be somewhat more 
attentive to the obligations of treaties, and more care- 
ful how they incurred the displeasure of the greater 
powers. 

From this period until the French expedition of 
1830, the only expedition of importance against Algiers 
was that of Lord Exmouth in 1816. As soon as the 
termination of tlie continental war allowed leisure to 
atiend to this object, a squadron was sent to Algiers 
under the orders of that admiral, who was instructed to 
require that all the Christian slaves in the Algerine 
dominions should be given up on the payment of a 
stipulated ransom, and that the system of Christian 
slavery should in future be entirely relinquished. ‘The 
Algerine government, under the awe which the im- 
mediate presence of the English fleet inspired, was all 
submission, and concluded a treaty on the above terms. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


AOL 


But the fleet was scarcely departed when these terms 
were violated in the most shocking manner by the 
massacre of a large body of Neapolitan fishermen at 
Bona. This intelligence reached England almost at 
the same time that the treaty was brought home by 
Lord Exmouth, who speedily set sail again with aug- 
mented force to avenge this violation of the law of 
nations. ‘The Dey, who was sensible of what might be 
expected, made every preparation for defence. His 
strenethened bulwarks, however, availed him little 
against the force and resolution of a British squadron. 
On the 27th of August, after a most desperate conflict, 
the Aleerine fleet was reduced to ashes,—the powerful 
batteries which defended the harbour were destroyed, 
and Omar, the Dey, had no alternative but to submit 
to the humiliating conditions imposed by the English 
admiral, which were,—the restoration of all his present 
captives without ransom,—with the repayment of ran- 
soms formerly received, and the abolition for ever of 
Christian slavery in his dominions. ‘The Algerines 
still, however, retained the nght, as an independent 
power, of declaring war with any state they chose, 
and of seizing its merchant vessels, and imprison- 
ing the crews until peace should be concluded. 
The proximate cause of the French expedition against 
Algiers in 1830 was an insult offered by the Dey to 
the consul Deval in the year 1827. The expedition 
was preceded by a blockade of two years which cost 
I’rance nearly a million sterling, The expedition which 
ultimately proceeded with the intention of taking pos- 
session of Aleiers, commenced its operations against the 


' town on the land side in June 1830; and, on the 4th 


of July, they acquired possession of the “‘ Kmperor’s 
Fort,” which commands the city. On the following 
day the town surrendered to General Bourmont, on the 
conditions that persons, private property, and the 
religion of the country should be respected; and that 
the Dey and his Turkish militia should be at liberty to 
quit Algiers, carrying with them their personal pro- 
perty. ‘Ihe French then took possession of the town, 
the castles, and every kind of public property, among 
which were twelve ships of war, 1500 bronze cannon, 
and about two millions sterling in gold and silver. 
The last of the Deys withdrew to Europe; and Algiers, 
with some neighbouring towns, remains in the pos- 
session of the French, whose government does not 
appear to have any intention of relinquishing the 
footing thus acquired on the southern shores of the 
Mediterranean. 

As the chief wealth of the Algerine state proceeded 
from the plunder of Christian vessels, and the sale, 
ransom, or profitable labour of their enslaved crews, 
the Dey must really have had great difficulty in carry- 
ing into effect treaties which contracted the limits of 
depredation, and diminished as well the revenues of 
the government as the profits of powerful individuals, 
Hence such treaties excited great discontents among the 
young and adventurous corsairs, diminished the popu- 
larity of the Dey, and not seldom endangered his life. 
The corsairs formed a sort of republic among them- 
selves, of which the revs, or chief captain, was the head, 
aud the inferior officers formed a sort of council under 
him. ‘They sometimes eombined the pursuits of piracy 
aud commerce. When a prize was brought in, if was 
customary for the prisoners to be paraded before the 
Dey, who had the first choice of a certain number for 
his own use. The number which should fall to his 
share was limited by custom, but it was not unusual for 
him to indulge in the liberty of exeeeding his fair pro- 
portion. Of the Dey’s captives, some were employed 
in the service of the palace, and ot.ers were sent to the 
public works: the last had to endure great hardships. 
They were compelled, with a little aid from machinery, 
to drag enormous stones frum the quarries, while ‘Purks 


3B OR 2 


492 
attended with whips to urge on those whose labours 
appeared on any occasion to slacken. Their daily food 
consisted of two small loaves of very bad bread, and a 
certain quantity of oi]; and at night they were locked 
up in large buildings, destitute of light, and without 
any beds on which they might lie down. ‘The fate of 
those who became the slaves of private imdividuals 
varied with the dispositions of the masters; but, with 
some exceptions, it was much less severe than that of 
the public slaves, whose condition we have just men- 
tioned. j 

In the preparation of this article some assistance has 
been afforded by the article ‘ Algiers’ in the ‘ Penny 
Cyclopedia,’ ) 





Anecdote of Rats.—A. correspondent transmits us the fol- 
lowing curious anecdote, furnishing another instance of the 
occasional confidence of animals in others which they are 
supposed to regard generally as their natural enemies, It 
would have been interesting to have known by what pro- 
cess the strange familiarity it describes was acquired. 
“Some years since, I lived in the village of Ickleton, in 
Cambridgeshire. After my shooting excursions, the dogs 
were fed in their kennels, the food being placed in a long 
trough. To this duty I generally attended myself. “Upon 
one occasion, after feeding the dogs, I looked into the kennel 
through a hole in the door, and was somewhat astonished, 
not at perceiving a number of rats there, but to see them 
in the trough, quietly and fearlessly partaking of bread 
and milk with the dogs, who seemed to pay no attention to 
such ‘ small deer.’ I doomed the rats to destruction ; and 
the next day placed the trough in such a position, that a 
gun pointed through the hole would rake it from one end to 
the other. At the usual hour the food was placed as a lure, 
—but the dogs were kept out—in vain. I could perceive the 
head ofa sagacious old rat, peering out at more than one 
hole, and from under the manger, for the purpose of recon- 
noitring : but none descended. Having waited half an 
hour to no purpose, I let in the dogs, and in a few minutes 
they were again feeding cheek by jowl. Had I not ascer- 
tained this, 1 might have supposed that altering the position 
of the trough, or some other trifling disarrangement of the 
economy of the kennel, had aroused the suspicions of the 
\ittle creatures. They seemed, however, to be aware that 
their safety was connected with the presence of the 
dogs,” 


HISTORY OF GAS.—No. V. 
{Concluded from No. 170.] ° 
O1r-Gas, » 


As early as the year 1805, Dr. Henry, to whose expe- 
riments on gas we owe many of the processes now in 
use, published the result of his experiments on the 
destructive distillation of oil; from which he stated a 
eas might be procured which would afford a_ better 
light than any other material he had employed. WNot- 
withstanding this paper, and another to the same effect 
published in 1808, no attention appeared to be paid to 
the subject for many years, and coal-gas engrossed all 
the attention of manufacturers. But when gas-making 
became a profitable business, other processes were 
investigated by which a share in the advantages might 
be obtained, the writings of Dr. Henry were naturally 
adverted to, and oil was experimented on. The first 
person who adopted oil-gas as a manufacturing specu- 
Jation was Mr. John Taylor, who obtained a patent for 
an oil-gas apparatus in 1815, although, from some un- 
foreseen difficulties in the process, he was unable to 
introduce it with success until 1819. 

The principle on which oil-gas is procured affords in 
its simplicity a remarkable contrast to the complicated 
processes and elaborate purifications demanded in coal- 
eas: asmall stream of oil is projected into a red-hot 
retort, partly filled with pieces of coke or brick; it is 


immediately converted into gas, which passes off 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[DeceNBER 20, 


through a pipe issuing from another part of the retort, 
and little more remains to be done than to cool it, and 
to deposit it in the gasometer. The constant filling 
and emptying of retorts, the separation of tar and oil, 
the purification by lime, and consequent dirty processes 
indispensable in coal-gas, are all avoided; the ma- 
chinery is of very moderate dimensions and requires 
comparatively little attendance, and the gas, when 
made, has a considerably greater illuminating power 
than that obtained from coal, varying, according to 
different experiments, from double to quadruple. It 
would appear from this statement that oil-gas must 
decidedly obtain a preference over that procured from 
coal, and that in future no more coal-gas would be 
made. But there was one advantage possessed by coal 
over oil, sufficiently important to outweigh all others, 
namely, the cheapness of the gas it affords, which, after 
much conflicting evidence, has been finally established. 
It appears at first that there could be little difficulty in 
coming to a decision on this point; but there were 
many circumstances attending the question which ren- 
dered it liable to dispute. One was the different illu- 
minating power possessed by the two gases; the oil-gas 
being admitted by the most strenuous advocates of 
coal-eas to have the advantage. ‘The difficulty con- 
sisted in determining the amount of this superiority ; 
the defenders of oil-gas asserted that a given quantity 
gave four times as much light as an equal bulk of coal- 
eas, While the other party declared that the proportion 
was barely double, and some went so far as to say that 
there was little difference between the two gases, or at 
most that the light produced by oil-gas was only a 
fourth greater than that of coal. Such a discrepancy 
in a case admitting of direct verification must appear 
strange, and has been usually set down to the account 
of wilful misrepresentation. It is probable that pre- 
Judice may have swayed the opinions of all parties, but 
the truth is that oil-eas is very variable in quality ; 
some oils producing a gas of much greater power than 
others, and the same oil under careful management 
giving a gas twice the value of what would be procured 
with less attention: nay, that the very same gas, col- 
lected in a gasometer, will be found to vary consider- 
ably according to the time when its qualities are experi- 
mented upon; being, when fresh made, much better 
than when it has stood a few days. <A careful experi- 
ment showed, that, with fresh-made eas, a burner con- 
suming 206 inches per hour gave a light equal to one 
candle, but that, after five days’ standing, 257 inches 
were requisile to produce the same light. But thoueh 
all these causes of uncertainty were removed, and the 
two gases should always be taken at their most favour- 
able state (for coal-e@as varies in quality, though not so 
greatly as oil-@as), there will be still a subject of difli- 
culty in the size of the burner. We have already 
stated that the greater the light produced from the 
same burner, the less is the proportion of gas con- 
sumed ; for example, that an Areand burner consuming 
three feet of gas per hour gives a light five times as 
great as it would do when consuming half that quan- 
tity of gas. Now in the experiments made to asccrtain 
the powers of coal and oil-gas, equal burners have 
generally been used; the best eas has consequently 
been burned at a disadvantage, being brought down 
to the power of the inferior gas, and the burner there- 
fore consuming much less than its full supply. 

When all these circumstances are considered, it will 
not appear strange that experiments made with perfect 
good faith might produce very various results; and 
even now that the matter is much better understood, 
there is by no means a general consent as to the value 
of the two gases, though we shall not be wide of the 
mark if we estimate the illuminating power of oil-gas 
at double that of caal-zas, The expense of coal-gas, 


1834.] 


in an establishment producing 50,000 feet per day, has 
been estimated at Ils. per 1000 feet, including coal, 
wages, machinery, and interest of capital, while the 
same quantity ef oil-gas may cost about 35s. To pro- 
duce the same quantity of light with oil-cas, the expense 
would therefore be about half as much again as with coal ; 
consequently there can be little hesitation in preferring 
coal to oil-gas in such cases. But the cost of coal-gas 
is materially enhanced in smaller establishments,—such 
as are required in provincial towns, or detached build- 
ings,—while oil-gas may be made nearly as cheap at 
home, with a little apparatus, as at the largest manu- 
factory. We may finally come to the conclusion, that 
the small space occupied by the apparatus, the dispen- 
sing with at least one-half the capacity of the gaso- 
meters, the absence of condensers and purifiers, and 
the comparative freedom from nauseous smells, will give 
oil-gas the preference in all cases, except those where 
the making of gas is a trade conducted on a scale of 
considerable magnitude. 

The mode of making oil-gas may be understood at 
once by a reference to the annexed figure :— 





A B is a retort partly filled with pieces of coke or brick. 
C is a pipe, which admits oil from the reservoir D into 


the retort. The oil is constantly dropping into the 
retort, and as constantly entering the reservoir by the 
pipe E from the oil-cistern F. As soon as the oil 
reaches the hot coke or brick, it is decomposed, con- 
verted into gas, and sent off through the pipe G, one 
end of which dips into the oil in the reservoir D, which 
is always kept filled to the same height. From the 
reservoir it passes through the pipe H into the gaso- 
meter. The object of making the gas pass through 
the oil is to cause it to deposit any portion of the oil 
which may have been merely evaporated, or converted 
into a sort of steam, without being decomposed. This 
steam becomes oil again, and is ready to pass again 
into the retort. When the gas is produced rapidly, it is 
considered useful to pass it through water in order to 
cool it, but it will generally be cooled enough by the 
water of the gwasometer. This is the whole process. 
Several additional details are important to the manu- 
facturer, for the more ready carrying off the gas, and 
the more complete deposition of impurities; but the 
mode of its production may be seen better by the above 
figure than by a more complex apparatus. Oil-gas 
companies have been formed in London, Dublin, and 
New York, at’ Hull, Norwich, Taunton, Plymouth, 
Liverpool, Colchester, and some other towns. The 
success, as far as brilliancy of light is concerned, 
has been complete, but how far it has answered as a 
profitable speculation we are unable to say. At some 
of these places we are aware that coal has been sub- 
stituted for oil; possibly the extension of the manufac- 
ture may have occasioned the change, from a knowledge 
of tle superior cheapness of coal-gas when obtained on 
a large scale, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


493 


A great deal of excitement at one time existed as to the 
danger to be apprehended from eas, and two or three 
accidents happened which for some time delayed the 
spread of this valuable light; but they were so unim- 
portant, and so few in comparison of the magnitude of 
the operations, that they might rather be taken as 
evidence of the little danger of gas. Means were taken 
to prejudice the public, and calculations were entered into 
comparing the power of a gasometer full of eas with that. 
of barrels of gunpowder ; without noticing that the worst 
effects of gunpowder arise from its rapid combustion, 
while gas burns slowly. It is true that when gas is 
mingled with from five to ten times its volume of air, 
it will explode with rapidity ; but such a mixture could 
scarcely occur in a gasometer unless purposely made, 
and then all the calculations would be at fault, from the 
much smaller quantity of @as which would be con- 
tained in the gasometer. A ‘ Report,’ by Sir William 
Congreve, dwelling very unfairly, in our opinion, on the 
dangers of coal-gas, gave rise to a parliamentary inves- 
tigation in 1823. After a fortnight’s attentive exami- 
nation of evidence, the committee came to the conclu- 
sion that there was very little cause for apprehension 
and no necessity for legislative interference. The only 
danger to the public appears likely to arise from the 
escape of gas in confined places, such as cellars, cup- 
boards, and enclosed shop-counters, through which a 
pipe might pass: a flaw in such a pipe might in a few 
days emit gas enough to form a dangerous mixture, 
and a candle incautiously introduced might produce an 
explosion ; careful persons will not allow pipes to be 
laid in such situations, or, if that cannot be dispensed 
with, they will not bring a candle into them without 
due precautions. Little danger need be apprehended 
from an escape into any other place, it having been 
calculated that a hole of one-twentieth of an inch in 
diameter, emitting eas at the ordinary pressure into a 
room of ten feet square, would require two or three 
days to form an explosive mixture, and not then unless 
the room were nearly air-tight*. 


PARLIAMENT OF EDWARD I. 


PinKERTON, in his ‘ Iconographia Scotica,’ published in 
1797, gives a curious print of a parliament of Edward I,, 
‘taken from a copy, in the collection of the Earl of 
Buchan, from an ancient limning, formerly in the 
College of Arms, London.” On athrone, at the upper 
end, sits the king, with his name and arms over his 
head ; and, similarly distinguished by their names and 
arms, sit Alexander king of Scotland, and Llewellyn 
prince of Wales, the former on Edward’s right hand 
and the latter on his left, on seats a little less elevated 
than his own. Beyond king Alexander, but on a lower 
seat, is placed the Archbishop of Canterbury, while the 
Archbishop of York is similarly seated near Llewellyn. 
A woolsack lies crosswise of the House, and on it, in 
front of the throne, sit four persons, evidently the chan - 
cellor and the other chief judges of the courts of law. 
Two other woolsacks are placed at right angles with the 
former, and on each of them sit four persons, doubtless 
intended for the other eight judges. Another wool- 
sack is placed crosswise of the House, on which are 
seated four persons with their faces towards the throne, 
with their heads uncovered, and who these are it does 
not seem easy to determine. Behind these persons, and 
with their faces also towards the throne, are two 
persons standing uncovered with something like open 
papers in their hands, apparently clerks. Behind these 
clerks there is a cross-bench, on which sit seven persons 

* Weare indebted fora portion of the details above given to 


Matthews’s ¢ History of Gas Lighting ;’ particularly in that part 
of our sketch which narrates the first adaptation of gas to eco- 


| nomical purposes, and its consequent progress, 


494 


covered, all with their faces towards the throne, and 
dressed in gowns or robes; and the right-hand man, 
wht» appears to sit somewhat higher than the rest, 
is attired in a black gown with a chain round his 
neck. Smith, in his ‘ Antiquities of Westminster,’ is 
inclined to think that they are the lesser barons, 
cr county representatives, and that the person with 
the chain is their speaker, whose office at that 
time seems to have been much the same as that of 
the foreman of a jury at present, namely, to collect 
their opinions individually and declare the result col- 
-ectively in the name of the whole body. ach side 
of the room contains two benches at right angles 
with the throne: those on the left have two bishops 
and five peers on one seat, and seven peers on the 
other; and at the upper end of the front bench on 
this side, and on a separate seat placed a little more 
forward than the bench, sits the prince, the son of 
King Edward, afterwards Edward II. The mitred 
abbots are placed on the other or right side of the 
House, and on the bench nearest the wall; six of 
them on that bench, and thirteen more on a return 
which it makes at right angles, so as to come behind 
the above-mentioned bench containing the seven per- 
sons. The other bench on the right side of the House 
contains six bishops seated just before the six abbots. 
Some persons, apparently attendants, are also intro- 
duced, such as a nobleman uncovered, with a herald, 
also uncovered, near him, standing behind near Prince 
Kdward. Between the king of Scots and the Arch- 
bishop of Canterbury, but farther back than either, and 
separated from the rest of the house by their seats, 
stands a man in a gown, but uncovered, with a roll of 
parchment in his hand. In asimilar situation, between 
prince Llewellyn and the Archbishop of York, appear 
two persons who, although covered, do not seem to be 
members of the House, because they are divided from 
it by the covered bench, on one end of which that 
prince sits. The floor is chequered, and the seats of 
the barons, bishops and abbots are plain forms; but 
that extending across the upper part of the House, and 
on which the princes and archbishops are seated, is a 
sort of sofa covered with embroidered cloth, and in that 
part also the floor is covered with a sort of figured 
cloth or carpet. In the engraving, it looks as if the 
centre of the sofa were padded up to support, nearly on 
a level with the verge of its back, the king’s throne, 
which is a neat canopied chair with piers, surmounted 
by globes, on each side the seat. The king of Scotland 
and prince of Wales have crowns but no sceptres; but 
Kidward has a very formidable sceptre, and the arch- 
bishops have their crosiers. All the faces are without 
beards or mustachios, and the execution and perspective 
are such as might be expected in that age. 

The coronation of Edward took place on the 19th of | 
August, 1274. Alexander, with his queen, and many 
of his nobility, assisted at the ceremony. From the 
delineation here given, it also appears that Alexander 
and Llewellyn sat in the House of Peers in a parlia- 
ment held, as usual, after the inauguration. 

It does not seem difficult to determine the rank of 
the different persons represented in this engraving, with 
the exceptions already indicated. Pinkerton himself 
thinks that the uncovered person in the background 
near King Alexander bears the deed of homage for the 
lands held by that monarch in England ; and that the 
two covered persons standing behind, near the Arch- 
bishop of York, are the pope’s ambassadors. The 
seven persons on the cross bench are, with the excep- 
tion of the right-hand man, dressed like the barons; 
and, if we concur with Smith in suppoaine them the 
knights of the shires, the four uncovered ‘ersons seated 
before them, on one of the woolsacks which form a 
quadrangle in the middle of the house, may not im- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[December 20 


probably be the delegates of the City of London, which 
appears to have possessed the privilege of sending 
representatives to ihe parliament at a period somewhat 
earlier than any other town in the kingdom. 


= 





BARROWS. 


THs name is given to the artificial hills which were in 
ancient times very generally constructed to commemo- 
rate the mighty dead. Such hills are usually formed 
of earth, but sometimes of heaped stones. In the latter 
form they are almost exclusively confined to Scotland, 
and are there called cairns. Barrows are found in 
almost every country, from America to the steppes of 
Tartary, and probably exhibit the earliest and assuredly 
the grandest species of honorary burial; a humble 
relic of which we still retain in the mounds of earth 
over the graves in our churchyards. Assuming that 
the barrow indicates, in the matter of sepulture, the 
first step of man from the merely savage state; it does 
not seem to have been forsaken for monuments of 
greater art and delicacy until such further advances in 
civilization had been made as might be indicated to a 
careful inquirer by the alteration in the form or structure 
of the tumulus itself, and still more by the contents 
which might be disinterred ; for it was in all, except 
perhaps the very earliest instances, customary to bury 
with the dead their weapons, their ornaments, and other 
articles of value. In the barrows of the earliest period 
we might expect to find no more than the bones of the 
uncoffined and unurned barbarian with his arrow heads 
of flint; while those of a later period would furnish 
stone and earthen coffins, urns of metal and earthen- 
ware, spears, swords, shields, bracelets, beads, mirrors, 
combs, and even coins and cloths,—articles which are 
actually found in some tumuli; and most of them in 
those of this country. In general, however, a person 
pursuing such mvestigations would be most surprised 
at the very great resemblance which the barrows of 
remote countries bear to each other, not only in their’ 
structure but in their contents. In exploring the 
tumuli of distant lands, and comparing our discoveries 
with those made by. other persons in other lands, the 
writer has been frequently tempted to fancy that they 
were all, in effect, the work of the same people. 

We have felt very strongly the imposing effect pro- 
duced by the view of vast, open, and forsaken Mo- 
hammedan cemeteries at a distance from the existing 
habitations of men; but even this is nothing to the 
impression made on the traveller by the cemeteries of 
the early world, when he stands in Scythian or Tar- 
tarian steppes, and sees these artificial hills stretching 
to a vast distance around. It would be necessary to 
see them to comprehend the immense labour which 
must have been employed on their construction. 'They 
vary greatly both in height and circumference; but, 
generally, when one of particularly elevated appearance 
occurs, there are seen around it other barrows of 
smaller dimensions. It is reasonably supposed, that 
while the larger tumuli covered the remains of princes 
and heroes, the smaller contained the bodies of inferior 
dignitaries. The common people could not generally 
have been so expensively interred as even in the smaller 
tumuli. As this kind of barrow-burial is not in those 
countries open to notice as an existing usage, it isa 
particular advantage to be able to recur to Herodotus, 
who speaks-with a special reference to the people whose 
cemeteries we at present consider, and whose account 
is confirmed by the discoveries of such travellers as 
have been able to acquaint themselves with the contents 
of these burial-hills. He says that when a king or 
chief died the people assembled in great numbers to 
celebrate his obsequies. The body was taken to the 
district particularly appropriated to interments, where a 


1834.] 


large quadrangular excavation was made in the earth | 


(in its dimensions more like a hall of banquet than a 
grave), and within it the body of the deceased prince 
was placed on a sort of bier. Daggers were laid at 
various distances around him, and the whole covered 
with pieces of wood and branches of the willow-tree. 
In another part of the same immense grave were de- 
posited the remains of one of thé late sovereign’s con- 
cubines, who had béen previously strangled; also his 
favourite servant, his baker, cook; housekeeper, and 
even his horses,—all followed him to the erave and 
were laid in the same tomb, together with his most 
valuable property, and, above all, a sufficient number 
of gold goblets. This last is a refinement we should 
hardly have expected to find in the Scythians. Our 
Saxon ancestors were content to think that they shonld 
drink beer in the halls of Odin from the skulls of 
their enemies. No doubt all this arose from the widely- 
diffused persuasion among savages and barbariaiis that 
the deceased will enjoy in another world the services of 
the persons and animals, and the use of the weapons 
and utensils deposited in his grave. After this the 
hollow was soon filled and surmounted with earth, 
every person being anxious to do his part in raising the 
hill by which his departed lord was honoured. 

After this statement concerning some of the more 
aucient barrows, it may not be amiss to notice some 
discoveries of sepulchres of the same class in coun- 
tries explored at a comparatively recent date, and which 
will serve to show the extent to which this mode of 
burial, perhaps beyond any other, prevailed previously, 


and for some time subsequently, to a knowledge of 


architecture. Barrows have been found in New Cale- 
donia, and in the country north of the Hottentots. 
T’wo very curious tombs on the barrow-principle were 
discovered by Mr. Oxley in 1817-1818, in the interior 
of New South Wales. The principal of the two showéd 
considerable art. ‘Che form of the whole was semi- 
circular: three rows of seats formed one-half, and the 
erave, with an outer row of seats, the other. These 
seats or benches constituted segments: of circles of 
from forty to fifty feet, and were raised by the soil 
being trenched up between them. ‘The grave itself 
was an oblong cone, five feet high by nine in length. 
This barrow was supported by a sort of wooden arch: 
the body was wrapped up in a great number of opossum 
skins, covered with dry e@rass and leaves, and lay about 
four feet below the surface. | 
~ Barrows, and other similar tumuli; are also found in 
America, and are thus mentioned in the * Encyclopedia 
Americana :’—“ In the valley of the Mississippi, tumuli, 
or mounds of earth, are discovered in great numbers, 
of the origin and uses of which we are yet ignorant. 
Similar constructions also occur in Mexico. The bar- 
rows of the Mississippi valley have been found to contain 
bones, and are said to be composed of earth différent 
from that of the surrounding country. They exhibit 
no trace of tools, and are, in fact, merely regular piles 
of earth, without brick or stone. ‘They are commonly 
situated in zich plains or prairies. ‘There is one near 
Wheeling 70 feet in height, 30 or 40 rods in circum- 
ference at the base, and 180 feet at the top. There is 
a numerous group at the Cahokia, stated at about 200 
in all, the largest of which is a parallelogram, about 
90 feet high, and 800 yards in cireuit. It has been 
asserted that the skulls found in thesé mounds resemble 
those of Peru.” | - 
These American tumuli are not, like those we have 
peen hitherto considering, the monuments of individuals, 
but appear to consist of thick strata of bones, pro- 
miscuously strewed with alternate layers of earth. ‘The 
difficulty alluded to in the extract seems to be to deter- 
mine on what occasion they were constructed. Some 
consider that they were raised on the scene of memorable 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


49% 


battles, and contain the remains of those slain on the 
occasion—others suppose them to have originated in 
the custom of collecting, at certain periods, the bones 
of the dead wherever deposited—and many regard them 
as the cemeteries of formerly-existing towns. The first 
conclusion seems strengthened by the fact that the 
tumuli in Ohio afford skulls fractured by the battle-axe, 
and bones with the stone heads of arrows sticking in 
them; the second by the dispersed manner in which 
the bones are found; and the third by the fact that the 
sites of towns are indicated by walls and ditches havine 
been found in the vicinity of such barrows. Some 
curious facts on this subject, are given in a late Nuniber 
of Silliman’s ‘ American Journal of Science,’ 


THE OTTER. 


Tre Romans, on their arrival in this island, found the 
bear, the wolf, the beaver, the wild hog, and wild cattle, 
besides the stag, the roebuck, the fox, the otter, and 
many more, all objects of chase, in which the Britons 
spent a great portion of their time. Of these animals, 
the bear, the wolf, the wild hog, and the beaver, have 
long been extirpated. Wild cattle, the descendants of 
the original native stock, now only exist in one or two 
parks ; so that they may be considered as on the eve of 
being extinct. ‘T’he roebuck is very scarce, and the stag 
(except where preserved in inclosed parks) as much so, 
—both lingering enly in the wild mountain districts of 
the North. The fox, were it not that the breed is 
preserved for the gratification of the privileged few 
to whom its chase affords amusement, would soon 
disappear. 

The otter is one of the most interesting of the indi- 
genous beasts of prey which have a place among the 
British Fauna of the present day. Voracious, snbtle, 
active, and bold, it is notorious for its devastations 
among the fish in our rivers and lakes, which are not 
protected from this foe either by the element in which 
they live, or by the rapidity of their motions init. Tike 
them, the otter is at home in the water, swimming at 
any depth with the utmost velocity and address. It 
follows up its prey, silently and with indomitable per- 
severance, through every turn and maze, ever keeping: 
the victim in sight, which, after a chase of greater or 
shorter duration, is exhansted, captured, and killed. 
Nor is the otter less remarkable for the graceful ele- 
sance than for the vigour of its movements in the water. 
Whoever has witnessed the feeding of those kept in the 
Gardens of the Zoological Society cannot fail to have 
remarked the fitie sweep of the body as the animal 
plunges into the water,—its undulating movements 
beneath the surface while exploring the prey—thie 
abriipt and arrow-like velocity of the pursuit—and the 
easy turn to the surface with the captured booty, which 
is taken to its den and devoured. ‘The animal then 
returns to the water and takes another fish, which is 
dealt with in the same manner; and this process is 
repeated until no more fish are left. Sometimes, how- 
ever, instead of treating them thus separately, the otter 
contrives to bring up several at a time, managing not 
only to seize them with great dexterity, but to carry 
them hanging from its mouth. Eight or ten fish 
serve for a single meal ; but it is well-known that in a 
state of freedom an otter slaughters a mucli larger 
number of fish than it devours; and tlms some idea 
may be formed of the annual havoc occasioned by a 
pair of otters in a river or preserve for fish, In order to 
supply the wants of themselves and their young ones. 

It seems a matter of some surprise that an animal 
far from being destitute of docility, and possessing the 
instinctive qualifications alluded to, should not be 
known in a reclaimed condition, so as to be useful to 
man or subservient to his pleasure, There are, indeed, 





496 


several isolafed instances on record of its having been 
domesticated, and so trained as to exert its powers on 
behalf of its master. Bewick relates that Mr. James 
Campbell possessed a young one, which had_ been 
trained by him with such success to catch fish that, in 
a single day, it would sometimes take ten salmon. 
When wearied with its hunt, it would decline further 
exertion and receive its reward in an ample repast on 
the fish it had taken, and fell almost instantaneously 
asleep, being’ generally conveyed home in that state. 
It would fish in the sea as well as in rivers, The late 
Bishop Heber noticed in India, on one occasion, a 


number of otters tethered. by long strings to bamboo 


stakes on the water’s edge, and was informed that it 


was customary to keep them tame in consequence of 


their utility in driving the shoals of fish into the nets, 

as well as of bringing out the larger fish with their 
teeth. ‘Those which: Bishop Heber saw were almost as 
tame as dogs, and were enjoying themselves, some in 


swimming about, as far,as their strings would admit, 


-——others in rolling and. basking on the : sunny bank. 
The otter is admirably adapted to its aquatic habits. 
Its body is elongated.and flexible, and terminated by a 


long, robust, but tapering and somewhat compressed. 
tail, which serves as a sort of rudder in the performance 


of the evolutions of the animal in the water ;—the limbs 
are very short, but remarkably muscular and powerful ; 

and the feet, which consist of five toes each, are webbed 
so as to serve as paddles or oars. The eyes are large, 
the ears short, and the lips are furnished with strong 
mustachios. The covering consists of two kinds of 


fur,—an under-vest of close, short, water-proof wool, 


and an outer-vest of long, coarse, glossy hairs. Shy 
and recluse, the otter is nocturnal in its habits, lurking 


by day in its burrow, which opens uear the: water's. 


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edge, concealed among intertangled herbage, and is 
generally carried to a great depth in the bank. Here, 
on a bed of leaves and grass, the female brings forth 
and rears her young, attending to their wants with 
ereat assiduity, and exhibiting for them a more ‘than 
ordinary share of maternal solicitude. She a hata 
four or five young at a birth in May or June. =~. -=... 
Among the sports of our forefathers, otter-hunting 
was not one of the least esteemed; and a breed of 
rough-haired powerful dogs was employed in aiding 
the exertions of the hunters, As the water is the con- 
eenial element of the otter, a single dog has there little 
chance against so active and resolute an antagonist, nor 
indeed could auy number unassisted bring him to bay. 
When forced from his retreat, it is in the water, there- 
fore, that the animal naturally takes ‘refuge; here a 
host of dogs assailing him would oblige him to swim 
beneath the surface as long as he could hold his breath, 
and on his rising to breathe he would be met by a 
shower of spears, launched at him by the hunters on 
the bank. ‘Thus attacked on every side, still his activity 
and ‘resolution would, under ordinary circumstances, 
enable him, to baffle for a long time the.most vigilant 
pursuit of his enemies, and not unfrequently to escape. 
But ‘at length the poor animal perished, as too often 
happened, wounded. and oppressed by numbers, yet 
fighting to the last. . In our day otter-hunting is 
less commonly practised, as the animal is more scarce 
as well as more limited in its localities ; it is not, how-. 
ever, by any means forgotten. But traps, nooses, &c., 
are now usually employed i in order to rid the ets or 
river of so destructive a guest. 
The following cut is a ‘representation ‘of an otter- 
hunt i in Scotland, of which we shall, give a description 
ina future Number. | “ 


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#.® The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Usefal Knowledge is at 59, Lincoln’s Inn Fields, 
LONDON :—CLlIARLES KNIGIHUT, 22,-LUDGATE STREET, 





Printed by Wittran Crowrs, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE 


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society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge. 





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TACKS 


[Le Roi Boit, from Jordaens. } 


Tue above wood-cut is copied from the engraving in 
the ‘ Musée Frangais,’ after Jordaens’ celebrated pic- 
ture of the Flemish celebration of Twelfth Night, known 
by the appellation of Le Rot Bott—* The king drinks.” 
The picture is considered one of the principal works of 
that distinguished artist, with whom the subject seems 
to have been a favourite one, as he painted it several 
times. The several pictures present important differ- 
ences; but they are all ingenious, comic, natural, and 
above all, remarkable for the truth and magnificence 
of the colouring. ‘The picture before us is in the 
Louvre at Paris. It was originally in the possession 
of a mercantile family at Antwerp; but in the year 
1783 it was purchased for Louis XVI. The height of 
the picture is four feet nine inches, and its breadth six 
feet two inches. The spirit of the painting will be 
better understood by the following account of the cus- 
tom to which it refers, the materials of which are chiefly 
derived from Brand’s: ‘ Popular Antiquities’ (Ellis’s 
Edition), , Strutt’s ‘Sports and Pastimes; Brady's 
‘ Clavis Calendaria,’ and the letter-press illustration of 
the engraving in the ‘ Musee Frangais.’ The election 
of a mock-monarch to preside over the sports and 
pastimes of particular seasons is a very old practice 
which was formerly common in this country as well as 
on the Continent; and of which there are still some 
existing traces. Hence we read of the kings of Christ- 
mas, of the cockneys, and of the bean, the may-queen, 
the lords and abbots of misrule, corresponding to the 
Vox, Il 


abbot of unreason in Scotland—not to speak of the 
kings, popes, and bishops of fools on the Continent. 
Selden in his ‘Table Talk’ is of opinion that these 
whimsical assumptions of dignity are derived from the 
ancient Saturnalia, or feasts of Saturn, when the masters 
waited upon their servants, who were honoured with 
mock titles, and permitted to assume the state and 
deportment of their lords. It is indeed remarkable 
that our twelfth day nearly coincides in the time of the 
year with the’Saturnalia ; and Fosbrooke even finds that 
the king of the Saturnalia was elected, like the king of 
twelfth night,-by a bean. These fooleries were so 
exceedingly popular, that they continued to be prac- 
tised long after the establishment of Christianity, in 
defiance of the threatenings and remonstrances of the 
clergy, who at last yielded to the stream of popular 
prejudice, and permitted the continuance of the practice ; 
but so altered the primitive object of the institution, 
that the orgies which had marked the festival of a 
‘heathen deity became changed to Christian commemo- 
rations. a = * 

Of these various monarchs, who much resembled each 
other in their powers and functions, the one repre- 
sented in our engraving seems to be the ° King 
of the Bean,’ whose reign commenced upon the vigil 
of the Epiphany or upon the day (Twelfth Day) 
itself. We are informed by Bourne that “ it was 
a common Christmas gambol in both our universities, 


and continued,” at the tie the last 


495 


ed 
5 


rv 


century, “ to be usual in other places to give the name 
of king or queen to that person whose extraordinary 


sxood luck it was to hit upon that part of a divided cake | 


which was honoured above the others by having’ a bean 
in it.” Strutt, “however, is disposed to daria that in 
early times (for the title is by no means of recent date) 
the election of the monarch depended entirely upon 
decision of fortune; the words of an old) Romish 
calendar seem to countenance acontrary opinion. They 
are to the following effect, as cited by Mr. Brand in a 
note to the above passage of Bourne :—“ On‘the: 5th 
of January, the vigil of the Epiphany, the kings of the 
bean are created; and on the sixth the feast of the 
kings shall be held, and also of the queen, and let the 
banqueting be continued for many days.” At court, 
in the reign of Edward IIL. the title was conferred 
upon one of the kine’s minstr els, as we find by an entry 
in a compotus so dated, which states that sixty shillings 
were given by the king, upon the day of the Epiphany, 
to Revan the trumpeter, and his associates, the court 
minstrels, in the name of the king of the bean. 

As all the various customs. of different countries on 
this day concur in the common object of commemo- 
rating the visit of the three wise men, or kings, to the 
birth- ~place of Christ, a king is in some way or other 
always a conspicuous personage in the entertainments 
which take place. In France, previously to the Revo- 
lution, this mode of celebrating Twelfth Day prevailed 
as well at court as among the people in general. At 
the former, one ofthe nobles was chosen king, and at the 
entertainment which followed the Twelfth Day monarch 
was attended by the king and the courtiers. It does 
not seem that this custom was revived at the restoration 
of the Bourbons, but instead of it the royal family 
washed the feet of some poor people, and bestowed alins 
upon them. Among the people, the person who obtained 
the slice of cake was king, and reigned throughout the 
evening. ‘The first act of the new monarch was to dub 
some one of the company the fool of the ev ening, whose 
business it was to keep ‘“ the table in a roar” by his 
verbal and practical jokes. No one drank until the 
king set the example, for which every one was on the 
wateh, and when he placed the cup to’his lips, the place 
was In an uproar with huzzas, laughter, and shouts of 
** The kine drinks!’ It was doubtless this form of the 
institution, which prevailed equally in France, Belgiuin, 
and Germany, that Jordaens had par ticularly i in view. 
Time has somewhat altered the form of the institution 
everywhere. In France, the more respectable families 
are content with giving some of the cake to the domes- 
tics ; and, in ceneral, there is no election of a sove- 
reign, but the inistress of the house presides. 

It seems to have been customary to expect the king 
to bear the expenses of the entertainment, Sir Thomas 
Urquhart, of Cromarty, in a curious political tract, pub- 
lished soon after the battle of Worcester in 1651, Says, 
“ Verily, I think they make use of kings as the French 
on the Epiphany Day use their Roy de la Fehve, 
or King of the Bean ; whom, after they have hotioured 
with drinking of his ‘health, and shouting aloud, ‘ Le 
Roy boit! Le Roy boit!’ they make pay for all the 
reckoning, not leaving him sometimes one penny, 
rather than that the exorbitancie of their debosh should 
not be satisfied to the full.” So also Misson in his 
‘Travels in Kingland,’ informs us in a ne Dao. On 
Twelfth Day they divide the cake, alias choose king 
and queen, and the king treats the rest of the com- 
pany. 

Brand, in his * Popular Antiquities, quotes in one of 
his notes a passage from ‘the. work of Aubanus, en- 
titled ‘ Mores, Leges, et Ritus omnium Gentium,’ 
1620, which seems to vive a good general account of the 
mode of election. He says that. each family made a 


cake of flour, honey, ginger, and pepper 5 the maker, in | in some parts of England ; 


¢ 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[DecEMBER AP 
tr “eae wee 


the kneading, thrust in at random a small coin. When 
it was baked it was divided into as many parts as there 
were persons in the family. It was distributed and 
each had his share. Portions of it were also assigned 
to Christ, the Virgin, and the three Magi, which were 
given away in alms. Whoever finds the piece of coin 
in his share is saluted by all as king, and being placed 
on a seat or throne is thrice lifted aloft with joyful 
acclamations. He holds a piece of chalk in his right 
hand, and each time he is hfted up makes a cross on — 
the ceiling. ‘These crosses were thonght to prevent 
many evils, and are much revered. Brand says he did 
not know that the custom was, when he wrote, prac- 
tised anywhere in the north of England, though still 
very prevalent in the south, where after tea a cake 
is produced, and two bowls, containing the fortunate 
chances for the different sexes. The host fills up the 
tickets, and the whole company, except the king and 
queen, are to be ministers of state, maids of honour, 
and ladies of the bed-chamber. Often the host and 
hostess, more by design perhaps than aceident, became 
king and queen. According to Twelfth Day law, each 
party is to support his character until midnight. 

In this country, itappears, from the following verses 
by Herrick, that the twelfth cake was formerly made 
full of plums, and with a bean and a pea; whoever 
got the former was to be king, and whoever found the 
latter became queen. : , 


Pwerire Nigut, or Kine anp QuEENz. 


‘< Now, now the mirth comes 
With the cake full of plums, 
Where Beane’s the king of the sport here; 
Besides we must know 
The Pea also 
Must revell, as Queene, in the Court here. 


* Beem then to chuse 
(This night as ye use) 
Who shall, for the present delight here 
Be a King by the lot, 
And who shall not 
Be Twelfe-day Queene for the night here. 
‘ Which known, let us make 
Joy-sops with the cake; 
And jet not a man then be seen here, 
Who unurged will not drinke 
To the base from the brink, 
A health to the King and Queene here, 


Next crowne the bowle full 
With gentle lambs’ wooll; 
- Adde sugar, nutmeg, and ginger, 
With store of ale too; 
And thus ye must doe 
To make the Wassaile a swinger. 


“ Give then to the King 
pAnd Sjuegne wassalling 3 
And though with ale ye be whet here, 
Yet part ye from hence 
As free from offence’ 
As when ye innocent met here.” 

"Among the relics of this old custom the practice of 
drawing “for king and queen on this day, when the 
twelfth- “cake, which forms so important a part of the en- 
tertainment, is divided, may be numbered. “ Some au: 
thors derive it from a custom observed by the Roman 
children of drawing lots with beans at the end of the 
Saturnalia to see who would be king. Others consider 
it allusive to the offerings made by the wise men. ‘The 
classical origin appears to have been favoured in our 
universities, “where the custom of drawing king and 
queen was for merly common, and the lots were decided 
by beans found in the divided cake. The old calendars 
stated, that on the vigil of this day kings were elected 
by beans, and the day was denominated the Festival of | 
Kings. Although the honours of king and queen, 
with the other characters introduced to promote mirth 
and jollity, are now determined by drawing slips of 
paper, the practice of drawing by beans is still retained 
and whatever may have 


1834.] 


been the origin of this custom, it was probably first ob- 
served by the heathens, and, like many others, adopted 
by the Christians. England is not sineular in the fes- 
tive observance of this day, which has prevailed through- 
out Europe, with the variations naturally arising from 
national propensities or prejudices *.” 

In the picture before us we seem to recognize the 
mistress of the family in the richly-attired young woman 
seated at the middle of the table; the young female 
near her is supposed to be a servant, and all the other 
persons represented are probably of the same rank 
in life, with the exception of the child. The heads 
of the two youne females, the figure of the king, on 
which the light falls from behind, that of the old man 
by his side, and that of the young man who fills the 
cup, are all admirable in their way. The young man 
at the bottom of the table is evidently raising the shout, 
** The king drinks!” 

Ow engraving seems to come in somewhat appro- 
priately at this season, which is more rife with old 
observances than any other of the year. The connexion 
which any of them bear to the particular occasion which 
calls them forth it is difficult to discover, and some of 
them are singularly at variance with the feelings which 
the occasion might be supposed to produce. ‘ In them- 
selves, however, hardly any are positively evil, and 
many of them incline to social happiness and kind 
feeling. It is good that there should be a season in 
which every man feels bound to put on all the kindness 
of his nature, and in which every head of a family likes 
to see all its scattered members catherine around him. 
So far we are willing that its observances should endure 
for ever; but we confess that we look without much 
reeret upon the gradual decline, particularly in towns, 
of several of the old usages which prevailed -at this 
season ; conceiving, as we do, that the disuse is a ne- 
cessary consequence of a higher tone of mind, which 
the people are acquiring, and which has already opened 
to them purer and more varied sources of enjoyment 
than were formerly within their reach. 

Jacob Jordaens, whose picture has given occasion to 
these remarks, was a distinguished painter of the 
Flemish school, born at Antwerp in the year 1594, 
He was the pupil of Adam Van Oort, whose daughter 
he married at a very early period of life ; but he is con- 
sidered to have been much indebted to the instructions 
of Rubens, though it does not appear that he was ever 
recularly admitted to the school of that great painter, 
whose principles were more fully worked out by him than 
by any of the pupils except Vandyke. Rubens is said to 
have been jealous of him; but this is always said of the 
elder of any two contemporary painters. However, it 
is certain that Jordaens ranked very high in his pro- 
fession. He was in constant employment throughout his 


long life; and his great industry, joined to the facility 


and expedition with which he worked, enabled him to 
produce a vast number of pictures, and to acquire con- 


siderable wealth. His compositions are very tasteful : 
and effective ; his styleis brilliant and harmonious, and. 
his desions are eminently characterised by accuracy and: 


truth. He was particularly skilful in giving relief and 
rotundity to his figures; and from the character of 


their execution, he is prestumed to have studied his sub-. 
His principal defect is said by. 


jects by candle-light. 
some to be occasional grossness of subject and form, 
and a preference of images of low and common life; but 
the extent to which this cai be considered at all as a 
defect admits of dispute. He was never in Italy, but 
he is said to have omitted no opportunity of studying 
the productions of the Venetian school, particularly the 
works of Titian, for which he had a strong preference. 
It is stated, indeed, that Jordaens never left his native 
city, where he died in 1678, at the age of 84 years. 
* Brady’s Clavis Calendaria, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


499 
ON HYBERNATION. 
At the present season, when man has recourse to arti« 
ficial means of protection from cold, it is natural 
for us to inquire into the condition of the inferior 
animals, and to ask how are they defended and what 
is their refuge? Some are provided with an additional 
coat of thick fur, which is lost as the spring returns ;— 
some have a dense padding of soft down, and are 
covered (as is the ptarmigan) with a full warm vest- 
ment to the very ends of the toes ;—some, too tender to 
endure the severity of our northern winter, or unable 
to procure a due supply of food, wig their way to the 
sunny regions of the south, and find in intertropical 
climates a temporary asylum. But there are othiers 
which have no means of leaving winter behind them, 
and to which no additional clothing is afforded in order 
to protect them from the cold ;—vet of that cold are 
they sensitive in the hiehest degree. What then is 
their resource? It is in a peculiar state of lethargy, 
which comes on as the cold increases, and continues 
till the opening of spring and sunshine. They are thus 
said to hybernate,—and hybernation is one of the most 
mysterious and beautiful of the conservative operations 
of nature which the animal economy exhibits. It has 
been investigated by many physiologists, and lately by 
Dr. Marshall Hall, whose experiments have thrown 
much light upon its real nature. If during the depth 
of winter we discover a dormouse, hedgehog, or bat, it 
will appear as if in a profound sleep, and in that posi- 
tion which it usually assumes during sleep. But the 
trance is deeper,—breathing has nearly ceased, and 
the bodily temperature of the animal is reduced to 
the temperature of the atmosphere, the interual parts 
being perhaps three degrees higher. The almost ces- 
sation of breathing, which is so remarkable a feature 
during hybernation, leads to the inference that the vital 
property of muscular fibres, termed irritability, is at 
this time greatly.augmented ; an inference abundantly 
proved by experiments. Hence does Dr. M. Hall state 
the following results of his own investigations :— 
** J. that the irritability of the heart is augmented in 
continued lethargy in an extraordinary degree; 2. that 
the irritability of the left side of the heart is then little, 
if at all, less irritable than the right,—that it is in fact 
veno-contractile,—that in this condition of the animal 
system the action of the heart continues for a consider- 
able period independently of the brain and spinal 
marrow.” By irritability it may be as well to observe 
is meant that vital power of contractile or expansive 
movements which muscular fibres exhibit in conse- 
quence of the application of certain stimuli, which 
movements are independent of volition. 

The close connexion between the functions of respira- 
tion and the circulation of the blood is well known. If, 
under ordinary circumstances, an animal ceases. to 
breathe, the circulation through the heart is impeded, 
and death ensues. Now in the hybernating animal 
respiration is nearly if not quite suspended; and “ had 
not the irritability of this organ become proportionately 
augmented, the actions of life must Have ceased.” As 
it is, however, the circulation continues uninterruptedly 
but slowly,—the blood of the arteries being in a venous 
or unoxygenated condition. In the bat, the pulsation 
of the heart was found by Dr. M. Hall to be about 
twenty-eight times in the minute, and regular. 

With respect to sensibility and the power of muscular 
mobility, they are unimpaired; and those * yhysiolo- 
gists who have asserted the contrary have mistaken the 
phenomena of torpor from cold for those of true hyber- 
nation.” Torpor from cold is the beginning of death ; 
—hyberiation a preservative from death. Touch the 
spines of a liedgehog during hybernation, aud it rouses 
to draw a deep inspiration—touch the wing of the 


| bat, and it does the same; the hedeeliog may thus be 


308 


500 


roused, and the bat incited to fly, “* although exhaus- 
tion and death may subsequently result from the ex- 
periment.” | 

Torpor, the immediate effect of excessive cold, may 
become fatal even to an hybernating animal; and 
indeed true hybernation is not induced by intense 
severity of, but by moderately low temperature. “ All 
hybernating animals avoid exposure to extreme cold. 
They seek some secure retreat, make themselves nests 
or burrows, or congregate in clusters ; and if the season 
prove unusually severe, or if their retreat be not well 
chosen, and they be exposed in consequence to excessive 
cold, many become benumbed, stiffen, and die.”— 
‘“¢ ‘When we read of insensibility, of a stiffened state of 
the muscles, and of a cessation of the circulation, as 
obtaining in hybernation, we may be certain that a 
state of torpor has been mistaken for that condition. 
The actually hybernating animal, exposed to con- 
tinued severe cold, is, as M. Saissy correctly observes, 
just roused from the state of ease and preservation into 
a painful activity, and then plunged into a fatal 
torpor.” If cold can destroy an hybernating animal, 
so can the excitement of motion and sudden warmth, 
which rouses it to sudden reviviscence. For the great 
irritability of the heart, which renders it susceptible to 
the stimulus of cold unoxygenated blood in this state 
of lethargy, would be incompatible with the conti- 
nuance of life on the oxygenation of the blood by quick 
and vigorous respiration. Respiration, therefore, sud- 
denly restored, and permanentl? excited, is as destruc- 
tive as the stopping of respiration under ordinary cir- 
cumstances. 

If the phenomena of rev?viscence in an animal hyber- 
nating in its natural dormitory be observed, it will be 
found that the return of respiration is gradual, and that 
the acceleration of the blood through the heart, together 
with the increase of the temperature of the body, are 
in an equal ratio. Natural and healthy reviviscence 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


[DeceMBER 27, 


ON THE SYSTEM OF CONTRACTS PURSUED 
| IN THE MINES OF CORNWALL. 
Or all the varied and complicated relations incident to 
a highly-civilized state of society, there are perhaps none 
which it is so difficult to adjust in a fair and satisfactory 
manner as those which exist between masters and men, 
—hbetween that class whom education, talent, and the 
possession of capital, places in a situation to direct and 
to employ, and that far more numerous one whose 
ski] or labour can only be rendered available through 
the medium of the former. 

The object of this paper is merely to describe and 
render more generally known a system under which 
these difficult relations are made to adjust themselves, 
as regards one important branch of national. industry, 
—we allude to the plan long’ pursued in the mines of 
Cornwall, and of late years successfully introduced 
from thence into other parts of the kingdom. 

With the exception of the small number of individuals 
employed as superintendents, clerks, &c., and who of 
course are paid by fixed salaries, the whole labour of 
the Cornish mines is performed by contracts made at 
stated intervals, generally once in every two months. 
These contracts are made publicly in the open air, and 
the proceeding is attended by all the miners in the 
neighbourhood who may be desirous of undertaking 
any of the work which is to be performed. The manner 
in which the business is carried on is very similar to a 
common auction, the different parcels of work being 
the article bid for, and the men the »urchasers, or more 
properly (though technically) speaking the “ takers,” 
of these allotments, the price at which they are taken 
being entirely regulated by the competition among 
them. ‘There is however this peculiarity, that the work 
is always put up ata price much higher than ought 
fairly to be paid for it, ana this price is gradually 
reduced to a proper standard by the competition among 
the men. The whole proceeding is guided by certain 


is no doubt, in part, to be attributed to the anal forms and regulations binding on all parties, which are 


change periodically occurring in the atmospheric tem- 
perature, but is most probably also connected with 
causes in the economy of the animal not yet fully 
understood, operating periodically on the internal 
organs. 


Great Heads.—A description of an extraordinarily large 
skull has been published by Dr. Louis Valentin. This 
skull is preserved in the Cabinet of Natural History at 
Marseilles; it belonged to a man named Borghini, who was 
born in that town and died there in 1616. He lived to be 
fifty years old: he was only four feet high; his head was 
about a foot in length, and its lateral circumference was 
three feet. The skull is open to the size of a crown-piece at 
the spot where the sagittal suture meets the coronal, and 
the lambdoidal suture begins. Although this man, says 
Dr. Valentin, had plenty of brains, he had very little sense ; 
so that it became a proverb, which is still in existence at 
Marseilles :—a pas mai de sen que Borghini—you have no 
more sense than Berghini. As he advanced in life, being 
no longer able to keep his head up, he was obliged to have 
a cushion on each shoulder to support it. Dy. Valentin, to 
whom we are indebted for the preceding details, gives us 
also the following account of a man whom he knew at Mar- 
seilles, and who died there, in 1807, at the age of seventy- 
one. Philip Soomet had a very large head; his forehead 
was broad, and projected extremely. He nad not been in 
ped for thirty years ;—he spent the night in a reading-chair ; 
—he only ate once in twenty-four or thirty hours ;—he never 
used a fire or hot water. His passion was to compile from 
books, and to criticise contemporary writers, but only in 
conversation. The voluminous MSS. which he left behind 
him consisted merely of extracts. He was a diligent fre- 
quenter of the public library, and he affected never to look 
at the skull of Borghini, though he was obliged to pass it 
every time he came in or went out. He ordered thirty or 
forty or even sixty volumes to be brought him at once. He 
frequently fell asleep with a pen in his hand, and it was 
necessary to awake him when the librarv doors were closed. 





read aloud at the commencement, and the contracts 
remain in force for the ensuing two months, when they 
are again renewed in the same manner; due allowances 
being made for all the varying circumstances which 
may have affected the works during the preceding 
interval. | 

This system has been pursued im Cornwal! from time 
immemorial, and so admirably does it reconcile all con 
flicting interests, that sérikes among the miners are 
there unknown, although so prevalent among labourers 
of a similar class in the north of England: we allude 
to the coal miners, with whom a much less perfect 
system of payment prevails, and whose combinations 
and strikes, together with the outrage and violence 
frequently attending them, must be familiar to most 
of our readers. 

The mode of carrying this system into effect is in itself 
so interesting, that we shall now proceed to describe 1 
more minutely, together with such other circumstances 
as may be necessary to render the whole intelligible. 

The work done in the mines of Cornwall is princi- 
pally of three kinds, technically termed “ tutwork,” 
“* tribute,” and “ dressing.” 

Tutwork consists in making all those excavations 
Which have for their ultimate object the discovery or 
extraction of ore, but which are not executed for the 
sole purpose of obtaining it, being often made in the 
barren rock or in the unproductive parts of the vein. 
Of this kind are shafts, cross-cuts, levels, winzes, &c. 
This work is paid for by the fathom in depth or length, 
or in some cases: by the cubic fathom, and when the 
substance extracted, or a portion of it, is of any value, 
the miner receives in addition a certain proportion of 
that value, which induces him to keep the ore as clear 
as possible from the rock or rubbish which is broken 


1834. 


with if, and would otherwise deteriorate its quality. 
The price usually paid for tutwork varies from about 5/, 
or 62, per fathom, to 30/. or 40/. depending on the hard- 
ness of the ground, the nature of the work to be per- 
formed, and various other circumstances. In _ exces- 
sively hard ground as much as 80l., or even 100/. per 
fathom, has occasionally been given. 

Tribute is in some measure the reverse of tutwork, 
since it includes all those excavations from which ore is 
actually obtained, and which are made merely for the 
purpose of procuring it. As, however, the quality 
of the ores is extremely variable, this kind of labour is 
not paid for by the quantity of work done, but by a cer- 
tain proportional part of the @ctwal value of the ore, 
when brought to the surface, and reduced to a saleable 
stale, or one in which it is fit for the operations of the 
smelter, to whom it is generally sold on the mine, the 
business of the miner and smelter being usually quite 


distinct, and carried on by entirely different parties. ! 


The mode of estimating the price of tribute is by a cer- 
tain sum for every twenty shillings worth of ore raised 
from the mine and rendered saleable. Like tutwork 
‘this amount is extremely variable. Where the ore is 
very rich and abundant, from sixpence to a shilling in 
the pound is generally given; but when, on the con- 
trary, it is poor and in small quantity, the tribute some- 
times amounts to fifteen or sixteen shillings in the 
pound. In executing either description of work, from 
two to four men usually work together; but as the 
work of a mine proceeds day and night without inter- 
ruption, it is necessary that the party who take the 
work should consist of three times the number actually 
employed at a time, so that different sets of men may 
relieve each other in succession, each party working but 
ei@ht hours in the twenty-four. By a singular mis- 
nomer, however, such a party of men, although usually 
yarying in number from six to twelve, are always called 
a * pair,’ perhaps because only two often work together. 
In forming the contract there is always one man of such 
a party, who having agreed with the rest as to the 
terms, takes the leadin making the bargain. ‘This man 
is considered as the responsible person, and called the 
“‘ taker,’ by which means the proceeding is greatly 
simplified. 

Dressing consists of those processes which the ore 

undergoes when brought to the surface, in order to 
reduce it to a state fit for smelting, and is chiefly per- 
formed under the same contract as tribute, of which it 
may be said to form a part, although carried on upon 
the surface, and by a different set of persons. ‘The 
poorer parts of the ores, called the ‘‘ halvans,” which 
would not pay for dressing under the original contract, 
are again ‘* set” to other persons at a higher price. 
__ Hlavine now given an outline of the system of the 
different kinds of work, and of the mode of payment, we 
may proceed to what is termed the “‘ se¢éang,” or “ sur- 
vey,” which is the actual process by which the preceding 
arrangements are carried into effect. 

A few days previous to the survey, as the auction is 
termed, the captains, or superintendents of the mine, 
examine every part of it, and determine what operation 
shall be carried on for the next period of two months. 
Each of these works is distinctly specified and registered 
in a book kept for the purpose, and opposite each ts 
marked the rate which in their opinion will be a fair 
remuneration to the men for performing it. The cap- 
tains being always selected from the most intelligent 
working miners, they are of course well qnalified to 
form a correct judgment on this head, as the labour 
upon which they set a value is of a kind which they 
themselves have mostly been employed for years in 
performing. 

As all the contracts for the preceding two months 
expire on the “ setting day,” it is of course a holiday 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


501 


to those employed in the mine; and itis a pleasing sight 
to see the population, usually scattered in isolated groups 
throughout its subterranean recesses, all'assembled and 
enjoying for a time the light of heaven. 

The auction, or “* survey,” is always held in the open 
air, and before the counting-house or office, where all 
the business of the mine is transacted, and which is 
usually situated in a central part of it. In the front of 
this building there is always a small covered platform, 
corresponding in height with the first story. About 
noon the captains of the mine take their station on this 
platform, and commence the business of the day. 

By this time a group of men, amounting, in large 
concerns, to three or four hundred or more, will have 
collected around the spot. This group will consist 
principally of those who usually work in the mine, and 
partly of miners from the neighbouring country, who 
may be desirous of obtaining employment there. 

One of the captains commences by reading aloud 
a printed form of rules, which are generally the same in 
all mines, and prescribe certain conditions upon which 
the work is to be taken, fines for neglect or idleness, 
and other necessary regulations. 

The name and description of the first piece of work 
on the list is then read aloud by the captain; this is 
immediately bid for at a certain price by some person in 
the crowd below, who witli his party may be desirous of 
undertaking it. The price named is, however, gcne- 
rally much higher than there is any chance of actually 
obtaining, and some other person will immediately bid 
perhaps five or ten shillings lower. While the price 
continues high, the competition goes on briskly; but 
when it approaches what is known to be a fair remune- 
ration, the- miners become more cautious, the competi- 
tion slackens, and at last ceases altogether. 

The captain then throws a pebble in the air, and de- 
clares the last bidder to be the ‘* taker” of the work at 
the price last named. The man then comes forward 
and gives hisname and that of the companions who, 
take the work with him, all of which are then registered. 
in the ** setting book” opposite the work taken. 

It sometimes happens, however, that the men may 
have agreed not to bid less than a certain sum for the 
work, and this sum will of course be higher than what 
the captains have valued itat. Should the captains stilt 
be of opinion that the price they have fixed is a fair one, 
the work is not considered in this case as actually taken 
by the last bidder, who has merely the first option of 
taking it at the captain’s price, which they immediately 
call out and offer him. Should he not take it at this 
price (which, however, knowing it to be a fair one, is 
usually the case), the other bidders have in succession 
the same option, and it will generally be taken by one 
of them. Should, however, the combination be general, 
this piece of work, and any others similarly circum- 
stanced, are passed over and “set” again, at some 
future occasion, when it will generally be taken at the 
price originally offered by the captains, or should that 
really be too low, they are under the necessity of allow- 
ing a higher one, as the work will otherwise remain 
undone. 

In this manner the business proceeds, till all the dif- 
ferent pieces of work, or bargains have been taken by 
the mcn, and often in the course of a couple of hours 
work is thus disposed of to the amount of perhaps 
several thousand pounds, and which will furnish direct 
employment to many hundred persons for the next two 
months. All waste of time and trivial disputes are 
thus avoided, and what is of far more consequence, the 
price of labour is by this system continually adjusting 
itself to that standard which is determined by an infinite 
variety of complicated and fluctuating circumstances, 
and which no combination, either of masters or men, 
can permanently alter, | 


Tt requires but little examination to perceive that, by | 
the plan we have described, the interests of the men 
and of their employers 1s ‘most effectually combined. 
Cutwork, indeed, differs but little from the piece-work, 
so often employed in various manufactures; but by 
tribute, which is a higher kind of labour, and requires 
much foresiht and calculation, the wages of the men: 
and the profits of their employers are so regulated, AS 
necessarily to keep pace with each other, for it is @vi- 
dently the interest of the men to send to the surface 
and render saleable as large a quantity as possible of 
all ores that will pay for extraction, for the least pos- 
sible cost ; and this is also precisely the interest of their 
employers, who from this circumstance are, in great 
measure, relieved from the expense and trouble of 
minutely examining into all the complicated details of 
the concern. 

As, however, there are means by which fraud might 
still be carried on to somne extent, this is, in most cases, 
effectually prevented by the vig ilance of the captains, 
who, from having themselves heel working miners, 
ave well aware of the nature of any deceit which might 
be attempied. 

Another great advantage of the tribute system de- 
pends in ereat méasure on the peculiar nature of the 
employment. Mineral veins are always extiemnely 
inconstant and variable, both as to the quantity and 
value of the ores which they produce, but from certain 
indications the experienced miner can - often foresee 
changes of this kind before they actually take place. 
Tatellig ent and enterprising tributers will often there- 
fore underetiee to work parts of the mine (of course at 
a high rate of tribute) where the ores are poor and 
would otherwise be neglected ; because, from long 
observation and experience, they ate able to see a pro- 
bability of improvement or discovery; and should this 
take place, especially scon after, the beginning of a 
contract, their profits may be very considerable, as in 
this case they will be raising perhaps a large quantity 
of rich ores, at the same high rate of tribute agreed on 
when the ore was in small quantity and of inferior 
value. Sometimes, indeed, by this piece of good fortune, 
provincially termed 2 sturt, a party of four or six men 
have made a profit of 5002. or 6000. in the course of the 
(vo months. Such instantes of good fortune, however, 
result entirely from the enterprise and intelligence of 
the nen, who, should their expectations not be Yealized, 
nay sometimes even be obliged to give up the contract | 
with loss. Although, therefore, the first benefit of the 
discovery is generally that of the miner, the advantage 
to their employers is also great, especially after a new 
contract has been made, suited to the altered circum- 
stances of the case. 


MINERAL KINGDOM.—Secrion XXVI. 


Corpmr,—(continued.) 


Mines.—The county of Cornwall alone produces more 
of this metal than all the other copper-mines of Europe 
put together; and in no part of the world are there 
any so productive. ‘These vast riches became known, 
however, at a comparatively recent date, and copper- 
mines were wrought in Germany and Sweden several 
centuries before those of Cornwall were opened. The 
records of copper-mining in Great Britain are scanty 
aud imperfect prior to the seventeenth century. ‘The 
Romans had brass-foundries in different parts of Bri- 
tain, but it does not appear from what places they got 
the copper; the probability is that it came from the 
islaud of Anglesea, as in a part of that country, to be 
mentioned hereafter, ore of this kind lay very near the 
surface. ‘There are no remains whatever of the opera- 


tions of the Romans in anny of the copper-mines of 
It is stated by Carew that, in the year 1586, : 


Cornwall, 


THE PENNY 


7 Taam et 


erties: 


MAGAZINE. [DECEMBER 27 
the ore of a Cornish mine was shipped to Wales to be 
refined there ; but the copper ore of Cornwall prior to 
the year 1700 was principally, if not wholly, derived 
from thé tin-mines, or at least from mines which were 
originally wrought for tin. Copper was largely im- 
ported in the early part of the eighteenth century, and 
it was not until about the year 1720 that this country 
supplied itself with this metal from its own mines. 
The copper money of Great Britain was not coined 
from British copper until the year 1717. It was not 
till the latter end of the seventeenth century that mines 
were first set at work in Cornwall purposely for copper. 
At the revolution of 1688 the crown gave up all claims 
to the ores of what were termed the ionoble metals, and 
in consequence of this brighter prospect of realizing 
profits, large capitals became invésted in mining specu- 
lations in Cornwall soon after that period. They have 
been carried on with great enterprise and increasing 
skill from that time, especially i in later years, during 
which vast improvements have taken place in the whole 
art, but especially in the machinery employed for raising 
the ore and carrying off the water from great depths. 
M. Elie de Beaumont, a distinguished civil engineer of 
France, who visited Cornwall a few years ago, speaks 
in hioh terms of the skill with which the mining ope- 
ations are conducted, and that he found the most 
recent discoveries both in science and art applied in 
practice with great judement. 

The ereatest proportion of the mines of Cornwall lie 
betiveen the town of Truro and the Land’s End. They 
are not widely scattered, but are accumulated in eroups 
on a small number of points. The most lnportant are 
in the neighbourhood of Redruth. We have said, in 
the last section, that the ore is contained in veins 
which traverse Phe slate rocks, or killas, and the oranite. 
There are three systems of Midse veins, or lodes, as they 
are called in the country: the oldest and the most 
numerous run in a direction from east to west; the 
next series run from south-east to north-west; and the 
third series, which are only known to be of a more 
modern formation because they cut through the others, 
have also an east and west direction. These veins are 
not vertical, but for the most part incline at a con- 
siderable angle. The east aud west veins usually dip 
to the north at an angle of about 70°; but sometimes 
at so low an anele as 35°. Scarcely an inftanée has 
occurred of a vein “having been found to terminate dowa- 
wards, or, as the miner’s “phrase i is, being cut outin depth, 
When the working of a nine is @iven up, it is in 
general either on account of its poverty or of the expense 
of sinking’ to a greater depth beine greater than the 
produce would justify. The average .width of these 
metalliferous veins is not more than three feet, and they 
are considered to be large if they are six feet wide. 
Instances, however, occur of veins of nine and twelve 
feet; and in one mine called Relistian Mine, there 
were parts of the vein which were thirty feet wide. ‘The 
veins of more modern formation are, in general, wider 
than the oldest east and west veins. ‘Their length is 
very various: the east and west veins have been traced 
for seven miles, but they do not extend in general 
farther than from one to two miles. Many remarkable 
phenomena occur at the intersection of the different 
series of veins, such as the older vein becoming richer 
on each side of the intersecting vein, ancl soinetimes 
becoming richer on one side and barren on the other. 
‘These veins are not all copper lodes, for tin is also one 
of the great products of the Cornish mines. 

There are at present eighty-four different copper- 
mines worked in Cornwall. The produce of these is 
very various, some being so poor as not to yield more 
than about half a ton of pure copper annually, while 

others yield above 1900 tons. Some of these mines are 
worked to a vast depth ; that called Dolcoath has work- 


1834.) 


ings at 1368 feet below the surface. The Consolidated 
Mines are by far the most extensive of any in Cornwall, 
or indeed in any part of Iurope*. They are situated 
in the parish of Gwennap, abont three miles east of 
Redruth, along the brow of a range of steep hills, and 
occupy an area of about 800 acres. The site is about 
300 feet above the level of the sea, and the bottom of 
the deepest shaft is 1340 feet below the level of the 
sea, and 1652 feet from the surface, being the deepest 
excavation in Great Britain. The principal lodes are 
from two to eight feet wide, with branches from them 
varying from twelve to eighteen inches in width. 
There are vertical shafts, or pits, sunk upon the 
different lodes, which in the aggregate exceed twenty 
miles of perpendicular excavation over the whole area; 
and the ageregate extent of the levels, or ways, driven 
in all directions from these shafts, is about forty-seven 
miles. ‘‘ The enormous power of machinery, employed 
on this concern for drainage and other purposes, greatly 
exceeds any similar combination in the whole world, 
and forms an unparalleled example of mechanical skill 
and ingenuity as applied to mining on its most extensive 
scale. ‘This machinery consists of eight very large 
stcam-engines, employed in pumping, their dimensions 
varying from ninety to sixty-five-inch cylinders ;—a 
smaller engine, of thirty-inch cylinder, used for the 
same purpose ;—eilght steam-engines, of about twenty- 
inch cylinder, employed in drawing ore and vein stuff; 
—hbeing altogether seventeen steam-engines, of which 
four are the largest ever erected. ‘here is also a water- 
wheel, forty-two {eet in diameter, employed in pumping ; 
another, thirty feet in diameter, for driving machinery ; 
and four smaller ones, for stamping and other pur- 
poses; altogether six in number. Several horse whims 
are also employed. Calculating the force constantly 
exerted by this stupendous accumulation of mechanical 
power, when working at a moderate rate, it may be 
stated as equivalent to the work of from 900 to 1000 
horses; which, however, is by no means the extent of 
its power. Supposing that it were possible to employ 
animal power, three relays of horses would be required 
in the twenty-four hours, besides an extra stock for 
casualties, making the actual number of horses to which 


| rine-power at the Consolidated Mines is equiva- | ~**. 3 : | 
the Gages newer 2 the the }until her bright eyes, just peeping above the nest, were 


lent at least that of 3000 horses. It should, however, 
be taken into account that horses’ power, so termed by 
engineers, considerably exceeds the strength of an 
ordinary horse (according to some authorities by one- 
third) ; and bearing this in mind, it will not perhaps be 
tco much to say that the engine-power employed in 
these mines is nearly, if not quite, equal to the work of 
4060 horses; and were it exerted to its full extent, to 
that of from 7000 to 8000 horses. The amount of 
human labour is proportioned to the power of the 
machinery; the number of persons usually employed 
beige about 2,400, independent of the numerous class 
who derive support in an indirect manner from these 
mines.’ ‘The ore is chiefly that variety called “ yellow 
copper-ore ;” and the avcrage quantity of fine copper 
annually produced was, up to 1831, about 1200 tons, 
or about one-ninth of the total quantity of this metal 
annually furnished by Great Britain. ‘Since then the 
quantity has considerably increased, having amounted 
in 1832 to 1530 tons, and in the year ending June last 
to 1914 tons. The eross returns for last year were 
152,000/., the charges 105,000/., leaving a profit of 
47,0002. 

Several of the Cornish mines are worked under the 
sca; as in the parish of St. Just, where the entrance to 
them is almost on the very edge of the precipitous ter- 
mination of the land, and the workings extend from the 

* For this information respecting these remarkable mimes we ére 
jndebired to Mr. Frederick Burr, a gentleman in the office of the 
chief engineer of the mines, John Taylor, Esq., through whose 
medium we have obtained it, 


THE PENNY. MAGAZINE. 


503 


vertical shaft far under the bed of the ocean. It is long 
since the Cornish miner showed his daring intrepidity 
in undertaking works of this nature, for Botallock 
mine has beeti wrought under the sea from a very 
remote period; and Pryce, in his ‘ Mineralogia Cor- 
nubiensis,’ gives the following interesting account of 
another mine :—“ ‘The mine of Huel Cock, iu the parish 
of St. Just, is wrought eighty fathoms (480 feet) in 
leneth under the sea below low water-mark ; and the 
sea in some places is but three fathoms over the back 
of the workings, insomuch that the tinners underneath 
hear the break, flux, and reflux of every wave, which 
upon the beach overhead may be said to have had 
the run of the Atlantic ocean for many huudred leagues, 
and consequently are amazingly powerful and boisterous. 
They also hear the rumbling noise of every nodule and 
fragment of rock, which are continually rolling upon 
the submarine stratum, which altowether make a kind 
of thundering roar that would surprise and fearfully 
engage the attention of the curious stranger. Add to 
this, that several parts of the lode which were richer 
than others have been very indiscreetly hulked and 
worked within four feet of the sea; whereby, in violent 
stormy weather, the noise overhead has been so tre- 
mendous, that the workmen have many times deserted 
their labour, under the greatest fear lest the sea might 
break in upon them.” 


Anecdote of a Robin.—(¥rom a Correspondent at Lewes). 
A few yeays ago a robin built her nest in a hole of a wall 
behind the hay-rack of a stable, in the townof Lewes. The 
hay was tossed into the rack several times during the day, 
when she would seldom fly out of the nest, but remain 
buried in the hay. She could not get out of the stable till 
the groom went to clean the horse, which was generally 
about six oclock in the morning; consequently, both the 
old bird and her young ones were obliged to remain hungry 
for some time, as birds generally seek their food as soon as 
it is hight. It was very remarkable to see how patiently the 
old bird sat in her nest surveying the groom whilst cleaning 
the horse and tossing the litter about; and even the en- 
trance of strangers would not much disturb her. All she 
would do, when any one approached very near, was to draw 
in her head and extend her wings over the inside of the 
nest: so close did she lie that few persons could observe her 


pointed out to them. As sooneas the eggs were hatched, 
the stable-window was left partially open during the day, 
to allow free egress and ingress, but shut at uight. As 
soon as the young birds were able to hop out of their nest, 
the old ones enticed them away into the adjoming garden, 
—took their station in a thick shrub, and there fed them 
until they were able to seek their own hving. 


THE OTTER.—No. II. 


In the British Islands we have but one species of 
otter—the Lutra vulgaris. But the members of the 
eenus are very numerous, and spread respectively over 
every quarter of the globe—nor are all confined to fresh 
waters; on the contrary, some are fishers on the sea, 
and take up their abode, like seais, in the crevices of 
rocks on the shore. Of these we may instance the 
Lutra stellert, a native of the polar regions. 

~The otter is found on the wild shores of the westeru 
isles of Scotland. Among the ifighlanders it is a 
favourite sport to hunt this animal with dogs of the 
terrier breed. Parties will sally out with torches at 
night-time, when the otter leaves his hole to seek food. 
During the day he conceals himself under the large 
bare stones or fragments of rock close to the margin of 
the sea, forming what is called a “ cairn.’ It is a 
difficult matter to force him from this retreat. ‘ihe 
writer being in one of the Hebrides in the autumn of 
last year, accompanied a party of gentJemen attended 
by game-keepers for the purpose of witnessing this 
sport. It was a fine morning in September. Juanding 


es 


D04 


on one of the islands from a boat, the terriers were 
loosened from the couples and left to their own instinct 
to find the otter’s den. After scrambling a consider- 
able distance over masses of rock and loose pebbles on 
a remarkably wild and beautiful shore, the dogs, by 
their eagerness of manner and incessant barking, con- 
vinced the party that the game was within scent. The 
geltlemen, with guns cocked, then arranged themselves 
in convenient situations for intercepting the passage of 
the otter, should he attempt to take refuge in the sea; 
some mounted on the tops of rocks, others stood near 
the water or in the boat which had accompanied the 
party from the landing place. ‘The keepers in the 
mean time assisted the dog's in their efforts to discover 
the lurking-hole of the prey. One of them, a thick-set 
Highlander, displayed a very characteristic enthusiasm. 
Addressing the dogs in Gaelic, he set to work with all 
the fervour of the animals themselves, tearing away large 
stones from the mouth of the hole, and half burying 
himself to enable the dogs to come at their object ; they 
in the meantime ran about, yelping in the greatest 
excitement, and scratching at every aperture between 
the stones. While this action was going on at one 
hole, a large otter poked his head out of another, and 
looked about with as much astonishment as his coun- 
tenance was capable of expressing, until catching a 
elimpse of one of his enemies, he suddenly retreated 
from the light. This incident having been observed, 
the attention of the party was transferred to the retreat 
thus betrayed. A large stone was first uplifted and 
hurled upon the top of the pile, with the intention of 
either forcing the inmate out by the shock, or of break- 
ing some of the stones. Then a pole was thrust into 
the crevice, which was enlarged so as to admit a dog. 
One of the canine besiegers immediately rushed in, and, 
alter a few seconds spent in grappling with his an- 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


7 


[December 27, 1834. 


tagonist, an otter was dragged forth, at whom the whole 
body of dogs ran a-tilt. His defence was most heroic ; 
many of his assailants exhibiting evidences of the power 
of his bite. The battle was continued for several 
minutes; and to those who delight in the display of 
animal ferocity, the noise of enraged combatants, and 
the sight of wounds and death, must have afforded high 
enjoyment. Dogs and otter, involved in one compact 
eroup, rolled down a precipitous ledge of crags, at the 
bottom of which, the power of numbers prevailing, the 
poor otter yielded up his life, ‘*‘ dying very hard,” as it 
is called. ‘Two more otters were taken directly after at 
the same cairn; one was shot as he made towards the 
water, the other was dragged by the tail, by one of the 
men, from his hole, and bagged alive. This was called 
a good day’s sport. Although the otter, when attacked, 
is exceedingly courageous, he is considered a harmless 
animal, living, as described above, near the sea, and 
feeding upon fish. It is said, by the Highlanders, that 
this animal is somewhat of an epicure, selecting the 
back of the neck of the conger-eel, and generally pre- 
ferring the upper parts of fish, leaving the rest to be 
devoured by the eagle or cormorant. ‘his character- 
istic trait is confirmed by the written accounts of the 
river-otter. , ay” 
Several English sportsmen have expressed surprise 
at the small dimensions of the dogs used in this kind of 
hunt in the Highlands. ‘ It’ is nevertheless true, that 
though some of the dogs are scarcely Jarger than the 
otter, their courage is quite equal to any encounter ; 
and from their peculiarity of form they are’ perfectly 
adapted to enter the holes between the rocks, which to 
a larger animal would be impracticable. The writer of 
this account has seen little terriers of this breed exhibit 
marks of the severest bites from otters ;—one dog had 
its lower jaw quite bitten away. | 


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LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET, 


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Ir any mental infatuation might be called “ amusing,” 
none could be thus characterized with more propriety 
than that which most of the writers on the represen- 
tative branch of our legislature: exhibited during the 
century and half following the reign of Elizabeth. This 
infatnation was equally displayed by writers of the most 
opposite opinions. ‘Their minds equally laboured under 
the strong conviction that a thing was good and lawful 
in the same degree in which it was old. ‘Therefore those 
who were friendly to the popular branch of the legis- 
lature thought it absolutely necessary to go back to the 
times of the Saxons, and talk about wrttenagemotes and 
michel synoths, relating how the Normans subverted 
the ancient liberties of the people, which they afterwards 
slowly recovered in the form in which they are now 
possessed. Others denied or doubted that the people, 
as distinguished from the aristocracy, possessed any 
share in the old Saxon assemblies, contending that the 
powers and privileges of the Commons were inno- 
vations on the ancient forms of the Constitution, and 
were founded on regal concessions, which in the course 
of time came to be claimed as rights. Both parties 
stated this point as if the powers possessed by the 
Commons could hardly be just or legal unless they were 
immemorial, and appeared to be wholly unconscious that 
if the fruit were good and pleasant, it mattered little 
whether the tree were planted yesterday or the day after 
the flood. Oneof the most sensible of the writers of this 
period says,—‘‘ Though the rise of Parliaments, like 
the head of Nilus, be unknown, yet they have bin of 
long standing and great power*.” Thus, even when 
there was no attempt to trace tle origin of the power, a 
stress was Still laid upon the length of its duration. But 
the time is now come when people do not ask whether 
a thing be old, but whether it be just and good. We 
shall limit. our own view to the period since the Con- 
quest ; and without wishing to impair the force of any 
argument which might be derived from ancient British or 
Saxon times, we shall be content to find that the power 
of the Commons has been of recent origin, and that 
the rights and powers of the third branch of the legis- 
lature grew with the growth and strengthened with 
the strength of the people. 

A system of county representation seems to have 
been established at a period considerably earlier than 
the admission of burgesses to a place in the great 
council; but the first county representatives do not 
appear to have had any other business than to make 
the king and peers acquainted with the condition and 
the grievances of the several counties. For this pur- 
pose it was directed, in the reign of King John, not 
that the knights should attend the Parliament in person, 
but meet in their counties, and draw up their reports. 
But the * Mad Parliament” which met at Oxford in 
the reion of Henry JII., in the year 1258, appointed 
twelve commissioners, and the King twelve more, to 
whom, acting conjointly, full authority was given to 
reform the state. 
several very important regulations which are known by 
the name of the ‘ Provisions of Oxford.” One of 
these directed that. each county should choose four 
knights, who should make themselves acquainted with 
the grievances of whicli their respective neighbourhoods 
had cause to complain, and should attend the ensuing 
Parliament in order to give information of the state of 
their particular counties. 

From this time nearly seven years passed disturbed 
by wars and strifes between the king and the barons; 
and when the successes of the latter had rendered their 
leader, the famous Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, 
the master of the kmgdom, he summoned a parliament 
to meet at London, where his influence was very great ; 
and to this parliament he called several barons and 

* ¢ A Discourse of the Rise and Power of Parliaments,’ 1677, 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


This council of twenty-four made 


[DecEmBER 3], 


churchmen, who were not immediate tenants of the 
crown, and, instead of four county representatives as 
before, it was directed that two knights should be re- 
turned from each shire and two deputies from each 
borough. This (1265) may be considered the first 
definite epoch of the House of Commons as at present 
constituted ;—at least this is the first occasion on which 
the return of burgesses to parliament is at all men- 
tioned by historians; nor, indeed, in any account, how- 
ever particular, of parliamentary proceedings previously 
to that period, is there any appearance of a House of 
Commons: for if the knights of the shires were spoken 
of at somewhat earlier periods than we have indicated, 
it is to be remembered that the county representatives 
were no other originally than representatives of the 
smaller barons and lesser nobility, and could hardly be 
considered as representatives of the people. 

After the date of Leicester’s parliament, thirty years 
passed by, during which royalty regained its ascendancy ; 
and the measures of the Karl being regarded as illegal 
and invalid, the burgesses were not awain summoned to 
Parliament. Indeed, if some such measure as the ad- 
mission of the burgesses to the great council * had not 
become necessary on other accounts, that precedent was 
more likely to blast than to give credit to it*.” 

But while the inhabitants of the country remained 
vassals at the disposal of the barons, the towns had 
orown In prosperity and strength, and many of them 
had received important municipal privileges and fran- 
chises from the kings, whose friendly consideration was 
drawn towards them by their peaceable and orderly 
conduct as contrasted with that of the turbulent barons 
and assuming ecclesiastics, and by a just sense of the 
value of their labour and ingenuity to the prosperity of 
the nation. The king, however, still retained the power 
of levying taxes upon the towns at pleasure; but in 
early times the ‘* subsidies,’ as they were called, were 
drawn chiefly from the barons and the church; and 
the demands of the crown upon the towns were not 
exorbitant, nor indeed heavy. But when the towns had 
increased in wealth and importance, it began to be 
thought just that they should contribute more largely 
than formerly to the necessities of the state, and this con- 
curing with the fact that those necessities had increased 
beyond what the peers and ecclesiastics could easily be 
brought to supply, occasioned much heavier exactions 
than formerly had been levied upon the towns. It was 
soon found that a power was wanting to enforce such 
demands, and that, in order to proceed peaceably with 
the boroughs, it would be requisite, in the first instance, 
to‘explain the necessity to them, and to overcome opposi- 
tion by remonstrance and entreaty. To do this with 
every particular borough would have been inconvenient ; 
and Edward I. soon perceived that there could be no 
better way of obtaining a supply than by assembling 
deputies from all the boroughs to take the subject 
into consideration. For this reason, in the year 1295, 
the king issued writs to the sheriffs, instructing them to 
send to the Parliament, not only two knights for the 
shire, but two deputies from every borough in the 
county ; and that these should be empowered by their 
respective communities to consent, in their name, to 
what he and his council should require of them. 

It is desirable here to specify a distinction which has 
now for a long time ceased to exist in the House of 
Commons. ‘The knights of the shires were really 
knights, and the burgesses were really burgesses. . The 
former represented the lesser nobility or gentry, who by 
their tenures had, under the feudal system, a right to a 
place in the great council, while the latter represented 
the burgesses and citizens of the several towns froin 
which they came. Hence the knights of the shires 
occupied a different position from that of the burgesses, 

* Hume, chap, xiii. 











1834,] 


and appear to have regarded them as forming an 
inferior and distinct body with which they had no con- 
nexion. But ultimately the immense estates distri- 
buted by the Conqueror became much subdivided, by 
which the number of the knights and gentry was so much 
increased as greatly to widen the distance between thein 
and the barons. And in the same proportion that the 
distance increased bettveen the county representatives 
and the peers in Parliament, it lessened between them 
and the burgesses, who, meanwhile, had gone on iIn- 
creasing’ in wealth and consideration ; and as both the 
knights and the burgesges resembled each other in 
being representatives of large bodies of people, it in 
time ceased to seem wusuitable that they should unite 
to form one house and one interest. Aiter that the 
ventry made no scruple of appearing as deputies from 
boroughs, and all practical distinction between a knight 
and a burgess in Parliament very soon ceased, 

Having thus succinctly stated the origin of the 
House of Commons, we may proceed to notice some 
facts which illustrate its early condition. 

It is remarkable that all the early proceedings rela- 
tive to the convening of the commons, at least of the bur- 
eesses, recognizes a difficulty in inducing the boroughs 
to send representatives, and in finding’ suitable persons 
willing to besent. We may seek for an explanation of 
the unwillingness of the forme: in the fact that their 
representatives were generally brought to yield to the 
demands of the crown; and it could hardly be expected 
that the constituent boroughs would feel interested in 
facilitating the business of taxation. Besides, they had 
to pay the travelling expenses of their represeutatives, 
as well as to allow them a daily stipend while attending 
the parliament ;. and inability to meet such charges was 
the excuse af some boroughs for desiring to he exempted 
fram ihe duty of sending members to the great council. 
The sheriffs had much power over the elections in those 
days. The representatives of the boroughs were, as we 
have seen, actually burgesses of the places they repre- 
sented; and if the sheriff was unable, or affected to be 
unable, to find in particular boroughs suitable persons 
for representatives, he assumed the liberty of omitting 
those boroughs in his returns. For such conduct he 
usually obtained the thanks of the people; and as the 
voice of the majority of the deputies that actually at- 
tended was binding on all the boroughs, the court did 
not complain. Again,—‘“ If the sheriffs were knavish, 
and packeted the money levied for the travelling ex- 
penses of the members,—and inany such instances are 
found,—the circumstance hecame immediately available 


as an excuse for absence *.” 


| 
It is quite as easy to understand the reluctance of 


burgesses to undertake the office of representing their 
towns in parliament. By doing this they were brought 
forward uupleasantly, becoming exposed as individuals 
to the rapacity of the local or general authorities, and 
incurred liabilities to penalties aud forfeitures. Besides, 
their position in the “* king’s council ” was exceedingly 
awkward and invidious; and, what perhaps weiglied 
more than any other consideration, the condition of the 
roads and of conveyances was such in those times as 
to render travelling tedians and uncomfortable, while 
the state of the times and the country rendered it dan- 
eerons and unsafe. It does not appear as if the office 
were in the earliest periods ever voluntarily undertaken ; 
for the representatives always seem to have been per- 
forming a duty highly unpleasant to themselves, and 
which they were always anxious to terminate as soon as 
possible, and return to their homes. At first the per- 
sons elected were obliged to give sureties for their 
appearance before the king and parliament. ‘There 
seems to have been nearly as much difficulty in the case 
of the county representatives. In the thirteenth century 
* Westminster Review, Oct. 1834, 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


507 


the average qualification of a knight of the shire varied 
from 200. to 40/. yearly value in land. ‘* The object of 
selecting the man of money was evidently with the 
intention of seizing it in case of non-attendance. ... . 
If a knight chosen to serve in parliament chanced to 
lack property to the amount of 20/, whereby he could 
be distrained, and, being thus impervious to the sanc- 
tion attached to refusal, escaped from the Jjurisdic- 
uon of the sheriff's bailiwick, and hied him to another 
county, the sheriff was obliged to seek a substitute in 
the place of the fugitive to attend the king’s cauncil *.” 
it was probably with the view of obviating this reluc- 
tance to serve, that the system of wages was first de- 
vised. ‘Phe pay of a knight of the shire was usually 
from 3s. to 5s. a day, and that of a citizen or burgess 
from 2s. to 3s.,—sums respectively equivalent to much 
larger amounts at the present time. Tt was thus, and 
hy the skilful distribution of local offices in the admini 
stration af: justice and the collection of taxes, and still 
more by the increased respectability of the office of a 
representative in parliament, that the kings in time 
found the difficulty of canvening the commons of the 
kingdom diminish; but it was not until the reign of 
dames [. that a seat in the Mouse of Commons became 
decidedly an object of ambition and of contest at 
elections. 

The vepresentatives of the commons in the early 
Parhaments did nat amount to anything near the pre- 
sent number. ‘The number underwent little variation 
until the reign of Henry VIII., at whose accession the 
numbers stoad as at the head of the ensuing table, 
which also states the additions afterwards made. 

Counties and 


Boroughs. Members. 
At the Accession of Henry VIII. ..... 147 ..... 
Added by Henry VIIT. wo... eee eee eee FZ woe. 88 
3 Edward VI. eooueeereterereere 2% eoesee 44 
MU a eancactiieusaat Wteaiye®. 40 
5) Khizabcth eos Pe ee hore ar eee 3 | eos eee 62 
> James I. CoP ee eraere theres l4 eevee 27 
Tew eLs! oenancs! SOU adeoe S22 


This table, however, does not afford a perfectly true 
result, because it only stutes additions, and takes no 
natice of defaleatians in the number. ‘Thus the town 
of Calais in France was represented in Parliament in 
the three first reigns on the list; and several boroughs 
were excused by Elizabeth from sending representatives. 
From Hollinshed, however, we obtain the following 
as the actual number of the ‘‘ Cangregates in the Par- 
liament,” in the year 1586; and for the sake of com- 
parison we will oppose his statement with similar ones 
for the periads immediately preceding and subsequent 
to the passing of the Reform Bill ;— 


Before Since 
1586. Reform Bill. Reform Bill. 

Knights .csssceccesess GO panpyee DR pemsee- 158 
te Vee oe ee ee eee OS ee eee 

Burgesses 0. .ccaccerene GOd voveeee DOL voveer. 333 
Baronsofthe Cinque Ports 14 ...02-. 16 weveeese 

Uniyersity Members .... catia: ( BPatee b- 4 

Envland ..ceeeeese ABD cepeses DID cagesey 900 

Added for Scotland . re ee Re ae 53 

Ireland ee ereeves j00 eevee 105 

658 638 


Coke says that the number of the Cammons was 300 
in the time of Fortescue, and 493 in his own timeyt. 
This agrees with our tables, and shows that very incon- 
siderable addition has been made to the number of the 
English representatives since the reign of James I., 
although the accession of Scotch and Inish members 
has greatly enlarged the assembly on the whole. ‘The 
additions made by Henry VIII. consisted chiefly in 


* Westminster Review, Oct. 1834. 
+ Institutes, part iv, ch. 1. 


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(DECEMBER 3], 


1834.] 


giving representatives to the Welsh counties and 
boroughs. 

It does not exactly appear whether in the original 
constitution of parliaments any definite period was 
fixed for their duration. In practice, however, they 
were frequently called, but the matter seems to have 
been left to the will of the crown until the 4th of 
Edward IIJ., when it was enacted that a parliament 
should be nolden every year once, or oftener if need be. 
In the reign of Edward’s successor, the frequency of 
parliaments seems to have been a subject of complaint. 
Stow says that in a parliament held in London, the 
clergy granted the king a tenth, and the temporality a 
fifteenth, on the condition that no other parliament 
should be holden from the calends of March until 
Michaelmas. Another statement of the same writer 
shows that a year’s duration of a Parliament was con- 
sidered a remarkable circumstance in 1406 :—‘* The 
Ist of March a parliament beganne which lasted nigh 
one whole yeere ; for after the knights had long delayed 
to grant the king a subsidie, yet in the end being over- 
come they granted the tax demanded.” Nevertheless, 
Henry VIII. and his successors prolonged their parlia- 
ments at pleasure. That monarch had one that lasted 
nearly five years and a half; Edward VI. one of four 
years and five months; Elizabeth one of nearly eight 
years ; James I., one of nearly similar duration ; the 
* long parliament,’ commenced in the following reign, 
and dissolved by Oliver Cromwell, lasted upwards of 
twelve years; and one of the parliaments of Charles ITI. 
extended to the great length of nearly seventeen years. 
But in the same reign an act was passed “ for the 
assembling and holding of parliaments once in three 
years at least.” This was intended rather as a limita- 


tion of the recent practice than as an extension of the | 


original statute; and was afterwards repealed and 
again renewed; but in the Ist year of George I.'s 
reion, it was alleged that ‘‘ a restless and popish faction 
were designing and endeavouring to renew the rebellion 
within this kingdom, and the report of an invasion 
from abroad ;” and it was therefore enacted that the 
then existing parliament should continue for seven 
years and no longer. Since then the duration of Par- 
liament has been nominally septennial; but the prac- 
tical duration has, taken generally, been much shorter, 
in consequence of changes of administration and the 
demise of the Crown. Upon the death of the reign- 
ing king a new Parliament, as most of our readers 
know, must be summoned after a prescribed time. 

We have already alluded to the unpleasant, awk- 
ward, and inferior position of the original representa- 
tives of the people in Parliament. ‘* They composed 
not, properly speaking, any essential part of the Par- 
liament: they sat apart both from the barons and 
knights, who disdained to mix with such mean person- 
ages. After they had given their consent to the taxes 
required of them, their business being then finished, 
they separated, even though the Parliament still con- 
tinued to sit and to canvass the national ‘business*.” 
Their ultimate participation in general questions of 
state by no means appears to have been of their own 
seeking ; and here it may he interesting to quote a few 
instances which show how carefully the early represen- 
tatives of the people avoided such general questions, 
even when invited to their consideration. It enables us 
also to perceive the position which, even in their own 
opinion, they occupied ; and we are much mistaken if 
our readers will not consider it interesting to view, in 
the timidity and fearfulness of its infancy, an institution 
which has grown up to what the House of Commons 
now is. 

In the thirteenth of Edward III. a parliament was 
called to consult of the domestic quiet, the defences of 

* Hume, chap, xi. 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


509, 


the marches of Scotland, and the security of the seas, 
from enemies. 'The Commons were requested to afford 
their advice on these subjects; but they humbly desired 
not to be put to consult on matters of which they had 
no cognizance. In the twenty-first year of the same 
reign the Commons were urged to give their opinion 
on the great question of a war with France. They 
were persuaded to consult together on the subject, and, 
after four days’ deliberation, answered that, their humble 
desire was that the King would be advised therein by 
the Lords, who had more experience in such affairs 
than themselves. a % 

In the sixth of Richard IT., the Parliament was called 
to consult whether the king should go in person to rescue 
the city of Gaunt (Ghent) or send an army. When 
the Commons were asked their advice, they humbly 
answered, by Sir Thomas Puckering, their speaker, 
that the councils of war did more properly belong: to 
the King and the Lords than to them. _ The year after, 
they were requested to give their advice on the articles 
of peace with France; but they modestly excused them- 
selves as too weak to give counsel in such weighty 
matters. But being charged again, as-they valued 
the reputation of their country and the rights of their 
king, to give their advice, they humbly gave their 
opinion rather for peace than war. These facts sub- 
Stantiate the conclusion of the writer from whom some 
of them are derived, that a member of the Lower House 
of Parliament, in those days, ‘‘ thought it the adequate 
object of his duty to study the welfare, to complain of 
the grievances, and to have the defects supplied, of the 
place for which he served*.” Queen Elizabeth would 
seem to have had in view this early spirit of the Com- 
mons when she warned them, in her day, not to meddle 
with the queen’s person, the state, or church govern- 
ment. 

So strictly was the business of the Commons limited, 
in early periods, to the consideration of the pecuniary 
demands of the crown, that when there were grievances 
of which they had cause to complain, or evils which 
they desired to have redressed, their only mode of pro- 
ceeding was by petitioning the king. They could 
originate no measures themselves; and as such trans- 
actions are usually stated, it appears that all remedial 
measures were matters of hard-driven bargain between 
them and the crown. In return for their money, they 
petitioned for the removal of any immediately-pressing 
grievance; and, although their manner was humble, 
the king knew that it would be difficult for him to get 
the next supply from them unless he complied. Indeed, 
a long time did not elapse before they discovered that 
the most effectual way of procuring attention to their 
petitions was not to grant the supply demanded until 
their petitions had been answered. ‘* The more the 
king’s demands multiplied, the faster thei petitions 
increased, both in number and authority; and the 
prince found it difficult to refuse men whose grants had 
so often supported his throne, and to whose assistance 
he might so soon be again obliged to have recourse. 
The Commons, however, were still much below the 
rank of legislators. Their petitions, though they re- 
ceived a verbal assent from the throne, were only the 
rudiments of laws: the judges were afterwards in- 
trusted with the power of putting them into form ; 
and the king, by adding to them the sanction of his 
authority, and that sometimes without the assent of the 
nobles, bestowed validity upon themt.” ‘The form of 
a modern bill seems a remaining evidence of this state 
of things ; and is in its form but a petition that it may 
become a law by the sanction of the king. It begins 
with describing the grievance that needs redress, or the 


* © An Enquiry into the Original Constitution of Parhaments 
in England and Scotland, —17 16, 
+ Hume, chap, xi, 


510 


MONTHLY SUPPLEMENT OF 


[DecemBER 3], 


evil that requires remedy, and then says—“ Therefore | Houses before the Commons could punish an external 
may it please your Majesty that it may be enacted ;—- | offence against their privileges until they had conferred 
and be it enacted, &c.,” proceeding to the details of } with the Lords, and the latter had referred the punish- 


the measure. The actual difference is now that both 
the Lords and Commons must concur in snch a bill or 
petition before it reaches the king; and that it thus 
reaches him with an authority which is, in point of fact, 
irresistible, although the forms of the constitution give 
him the power of negativing its prayer. 

It does not appear that the House of Commons itself 
began to be petitioned until about the middle of the 
reign of Henry VII.; and even then, although the 
petition is directed to that House in point of title, yet 
its prayer is rather turned to the king than to the com- 
mons. The petition begins thus:—‘‘ To the right 
worshipful Commons in this present parliament as- 
sembled, shows to your discreet wisdoms, that tlie 
warden of the craft of upholsterers within London, 
&c.:” but the conclusion is,—‘‘ Therefore, may it 
please the king’s highness, by the advice of the Lords 
spiritual and temporal, and his Commons in parlia- 
ment, &c.” 
tory of England’ begins with this reign, numbers the 
following among’ the restrictions on the royal authority 
which had then become distinctly established—that the 
king could levy no new tax without the consent of both 
Houses, whose previous assent was also necessary to 
every new law. ‘“ England,’ says the same writer, 
** had acquired in the fifteenth century a just reputation 
for the goodness of her laws, and the security of her 
citizens from oppression. This liberty had been the 
slow fruit of ages, still waiting the time for its perfect 
ripeness, hut already giving proof of the vigour and in- 
dustry which had been employed in its culture*.” 

In the early periods of the history of the House of 
Commons, we find that the kings exercised the power 
of regulating writs and elections at pleasure, with the 
advice only of the privy council. In proof of this, as 
well as on account of some other points of interest it 
contains, we may quote the important writ of Henry VI. 
which placed the elective franchise in the hands of the 
40s, freeholders, as a limitation of the more extensive 
right of suffrage which previously existed. ‘‘ Whereas 
elections of knights have been made with great out- 
rages and excessive numbers of people, of which most 
part were people of no value, yet pretend a voice equal 
to worthy kaights and esquires, whereby many riots, 
manslaughters, and divisions among gentlemen shall 
likely be. Our lord the king hath ordained that 
knights of shires be chosen by people dwelling in the 
counties, every one of them having lands and tenements 
to the value of 40s. per annum at least, and that they 
who are chosen be dwelling and resident within the 
counties where they are elected.” 

After the separation of the two houses each set up 
particular jurisdictions for the better regulating their 
own house, and for the punishing of offences against 
its privileges ; but their orders, as at present, continued 
in force no longer than while their session lasted. The 
following two instances of the exercise of its jurisdiction 
by the Lower Heuse in the time of Elizabeth are from 
the fourth part of the ‘ Institutes’ of Sir Edward Coke. 
‘Thomas Long gave 4/. to the Mayor of Westbury to 
be elected burgess, and he was elected; the mayor was 
judged by the House of Commons te be imprisoned 
and fined according to law and the usage of parliament; 
and the election of Long was declared void. Arthur 
Hall, a member of the House, for discovering the con- 
ferences of the House, &c., was adjudged to be com- 
mitted to the Tower, fined 500/., and expelled the 
House.” 

Nevertheless it was long afier the separation of the 





* ¢ Constitutional History,’ voli. p. 2, 


Mr. Hallam, whose ‘ Constitutional His- | 


ment to them. We may quote an example of this 
which occurred in 33d Henry VIII. George Ferrers, 
the king’s servant and member for Plymouth, was ar- 
rested for debt by a process from the King’s Bench, 
When this was signified to the Speaker, Sir Thomas 
Moyle, he sent the sergeant that attended the Honse 
to the Compter to demand Ferrers; but the officers 
of the Compter not only refused to deliver up the 
prisoner, but showered abundant abuse an the ser- 
geant. A scuffle ensued, in the course of which the 
sheriff of London arrived, but as he took part with the 
Compter, the sergeant was obliged to return withgut the 
member. This being reported to the Commons, they 
immediately went and desired a conference with the 
Lords, who, on consideration, thought the contempt 
to. be very great, and referred the punishment to the 
Commons themselves. | 

There are numerous instances of the very light 
esteem in which the privileges of the Commons were 
held by the court for upwards of three hundred years 
after their first introduction to the parliament. We 
may quote one comparatively recent instance. In the 
twenty-third year of Elizabeth’s reign Mr. Paul Went- 
worth moved in the House for a public fast, and for a 
sermon every morning at seven o'clock before the House 
sat. ‘This motion was decided in the.affirmative by a 
majority of 150 to 100, and an order was passed accord- 
ingly. When the queen heard of this, she sent her Vice- 
Chamberlain to the House to signify,—“ 'That her high- 
ness had great admiration of the rashness of the House 
in committing such an apparent contempt of her express 
command, as to put in execution such an innovation 
without her privity or pleasure first known.’ There- 
upon Mr, Vice-Chamberlain moved the House to make 
an humble submission to her Majesty, acknowledging 
the said offence and contempt, and to crave remission 
for the same, with a full purpose to forbear committing 
the like thereafter. 

We the rather quote the above fact for the sake of the 
incidental statement of the early hour in the morning 
at which the House then assembled. It would appear 
that nine in the morning was then the usual time, as it 
long continued to be nominally, even when the actual 
hour had been altered. The reader may be interested by 
the following notices of the custom in this respect at 
different subsequent periods. The first instance is 
given as quoted by Malcolm from the Journals of the 
House :—“ 31st May, 1610.—This day the lord mayor, 
with the citizens in the liveries of their several companies, 
went to Putney on their way to Richmond, and waited 
upon Prince Henry coming down to Whitehall; the 
Duke of Brunswick, Earl of Shrewsbury, Earl of Pem- 
broke and the Earl of Marne in the barge with him, 
At nine o’clock in the morning they went. The drums 
and fifes were so loud, and the company so smail, that 
Mr. Speaker thought not fit, after nine o’clock, to pro- 
ceed in any business, but to arise and depart.” About 
thirty years after, Hyde, afterwards Earl of Clarendon, 
but then a Member of the House of Commons, is found 
complaining ‘‘ of the House keeping those disorderly 
hours, and seldom rising until four in the afternoon,” - 
A writer in 176i informs us that “ Although the 
Speaker always adjourns the House to nine o’clock of 


| the morning of the day when they agree to meet again, 


the House seldom meets till twelve.” ‘Till very recentiy 
the House did not meet for the dispatch of public 
business until five in the afternoon—a later hour than 
that at which Hyde thought it “ disorderly” far the 
House to remain sitting; and it seldom rises befere 
midnight, and often remains sitting until two, three, or 
four in the morning, ‘There has lately, however, been 


1834.] 


THE PENNY MAGAZINE. 


S11 


an early sitting, from twelve till three, for the reception | provided, the housekeeper, on such an occasion, claim- 


of petitions. 

It appears that so long as the two Houses sat toge- 
ther, the Commons had no fixed speaker; but after 
deliberating on a subject, they made choice of one 
of their number who was presumed to be best ac- 
quainted with the business in hand to deliver the con- 
clusion at which they had arrived. ‘This practice was 
found to occasion delays; and as the Commons could 


not have a regular president while the two Houses sat. 


together, it is considered one of the principal causes, if 
not the only cause, that led to the separation. The best 
way, therefore, according to Sir Edward Coke, to ascer- 
tain the time when this division took place, would be 
to find when the Commons first had a settled speaker 
as at present. After the separation, the same writer adds 
that the Commons sat in the Chapter House of the 
Abbot of Westminster, and cites, as his authority, a 


Parliament roll of 50 Edward III., which consequently | 


proves that the separation had taken place before then. 
‘he Commons assembled in the Chapter House, ad- 
joining ‘* Poets’ Corner ;” of course by the sufferatice 
of the Abbot of Westminster. The Abbots of West- 
minster were in those days great personages and lords 
in Parliament, and it does not appear that they held 
the privileges of the Commons in very high respect. 
The article in the ‘ Westminster Review’ which we 
have already quoted informs us that “‘ on one occasion 
the Commons, forgetting the solemn purposes of their 
assembling, became so riotous, and created so great a 
turmoil, that the Abbot waxed indignant at the profa- 
nation, and collecting a sufficiently strong party, turned 
the whole legislative wisdom out of his House, and swore 
lustily that the place should not again be defiled with 
a like rabble.” 

The necessary and frequent communications between 
the two Houses, in the progress of Parliamentary busi- 
ness, doubtless occasioned much inconvenience to be 
experienced, on account of the distance, while the 
Commons sat in the Chapter House and the Lords in 
a room of the old palace, on the east side of Old Palace 
Yard. It is not, therefore, surprising that, when an 
opportunity offered, St. Stephen’s Chapel should have 
been thought of for the meetings of the Commons. 
In what manner it was first fitted up for this purpose 
is nowhere explained ; but it is supposed that the paint- 
ings with which the stone walls of the original chapel 
were ornamented were, previously to that time, exposed 
to view, but that they were, on that occasion, wain- 
scoted up. In several law seals of the year 1648, in 
the Parliament seal of 1649, and the Dunbar medal of 
1650, the walls are represented with a plain wainscot- 
ing. It appears, however, that about the year 1651 
the walls were covered with tapestry-hangings, probably 
to conceal this wainscoting, for they are so given in the 

perspective view of the House of Commons on the back 
of the great seal of the Commonwealth of England 
in that year; and in this manner the walls continued 
to be decorated down to the time of Queen Anne, in 
whose reign Sir Christopher Wren was employed to 
repair the building, and refit up its inside with gal- 
leries. Mr. Onslow, when speaker, was heard to say 
that he remembered the tapestry hangings being up, 
and that every new Parliament a new set used to be 


ing the old hangings as her fee. From Queen Anne’s 
time no external or internal alteration of any conse- 
quence took place in the building until 1800: only 
a trifling change had been made in the form of the 
turrets, and a few variations at the east end. At 
the period last mentioned, as we stated in a former 
Number, accommodations for 100 additional members 
was provided by taking down the old side walls, which 
were three feet thick, and erecting others, the thickness 
of which was only one foot, thus gaining four feet 
additional breadth. The discovery of the old paintings 
and sculptures on the wall, which took place on that 
occasion, has already been stated. 

While these alterations, with a new fitting-up of the 
interior, were in progress, the Painted Chamber was 
prepared for the temporary accommodation of the 
Commons from the llth of November to the 3lst of 
December, 1800. The curious old tapestry supposed 
to represent the siege of Troy was taken down, and 
placed in a cellar 1nder the building. The walls were 
then covered with paper, for the convenience of hang- . 
ing which a scaffolding was erected, and this was the 
means of discovering those old historical paintings, 
with inscriptions, which we mentioned in the article on 
the Painted Chamber. 

Hutton, in his * New View of London,’ thus speaks 
of the House in 1708 :—‘*‘ The Commons’ House is a 
little to the northward from the Lords, somewhat 
nearer the Hall, a comimodious building accommodated 
with several ranks of seats, covered with green and 
matted under foot, for 513 gentlemen, of which number 
this honourable, learned, and judicious assembly con- 
sists,—the like, in all these respects, perhaps nowhere 
to be paralleled. On three sides of this House are 
beautiful wainscot galleries, sustained by canteleevers 
enricht with fruit and other carved curiosities.” The 
wood-cut at p. 505 exhibits the appearance of the 
House about twenty-five years after this period. 

A writer in 1761 thus describes the appearance which 
the House of Commons then presented :—“ It is at . 
present a spacious room wainscoted up to the ceiling, 
accommodated with galleries, supported by slender iron. 
pillars adorned with Corinthian capitals and sconces. 
From the middle of the ceiling hangs a handsome 
branch or lustre. At the upper end the speaker is 
placed upon a raised seat, ornamented behind with 
Corinthian columns, and the king’s arms carved and 
placed on a pediment. Before him is a table, at which 
the clerk and his assistants sit near him on each hand 
just below the chair; and on each side, as well below 
as in the galleries, the members are placed promiscu- 
ously. ‘The speaker and clerks always wear gowns in 
the House; but no other members wear robes, except 
the four representatives for the city of London, who, 
the first day of every new parliament, are dressed in 
scarlet gowns, and sit all together on the right hand 
of the chair next the speaker*.” The interior of the 
House, as it appeared previous to the recent conflagra- 
tion, has already been described. ‘The wood-cut at 
page 508 exhibits St. Stephen’s Chapel, as it is sup- 
posed to have appeared when it was used for eccle- 
siastical purposes. 

* London and its Environs described, 1761. Vol. ii, 0. 166. 


END OF VOLUME THE THIRD. 








*,* The Office of the Society for the Diffusion of Useful Knowledge is at 99, Lincoln’s Inn Fields,’ 
LONDON :—CHARLES KNIGHT, 22, LUDGATE STREET 


————— ann a 


Printed by Wituram Crowes, Duke Street, Lambeth, 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


View of Waltham Cross, page 1 

Aurora of Guido, 5 

Chinese Junk, 9 

Town-hall! of Louvain, 13 

Newfoundland Dog, 16 

Goldsmiths’ Hall, 17 

Rock of Gibraltar, 20 

Interior of Rock of Gibraltar, 21 

Portrait of Franklin, 24 

Middle Quadrangle of the Palace at 
Hampton Court, 25 

Shakspeare’s Cliff, 28 

Chetah, 32 

West Front of the General Post-office, 
London, 33 

Swimming Couriers of Peru, 35 

Hall of the new Post-office, 40 

i6 The Adjutant, 41 

Ruins of the City of Balbec, 44 

Circular Temple of Balbec, 45 

Chlamyphorus Truncatus, 49 

Skull of Chlamyphorus, 50 

West Front of the Cathedral of Amiens, 
52 

Virgin and Child, from south porch of 
ditto, 53 

Fishmongers’ Hall, 57 

Obelisk of Luxor, south face, 61 


— 
COwoewanusP to = 





25 east face, 61 
26 north face, 61 
27 ——— west face 61 
28 Tilbury Fort, 64 


English and Scotch Terriers, 65 
South Front of the Cathedral of Beau- 
vais, 68 
Remains of Stonehenge, 69 
Canterbury Cathedral—south side, 73 
St. Augustine’s Gate, do., 76 
Cathedral Precinct Gateway, do., 77 
Capital of a Column inthe Crypt,do., 78 
Nave of Canterbury Cathedral, 80 
Mango Tree, 81 
Front of the East India House, 85 
Ostrich carrying a Negro, 88 
The White Stork, 89 
41 The Last Supper, after Leonardo da 
Vinci, 93 
Tamarind Tree, 97 
Leaf, Flower, and Fruit of the Tama-~ 
rind, 98 
44 Town of Halifax, Yorkshire, 101 
45 South-west View of Norwich Castle, 104 
46 Curl-crested Aracari, 105 
47 Entrance to Dove-Dale, 108 
48 Scene in Dove-Dale, 109 
‘The Young Beggar,’ by Murillo, 113 
Cacao Tree, 116 
Fruit of the Cacao Tree, 117 
Cacao Bean and transverse section of 
the Fruit, 117 
Candelabra found at Pompeii, 120 
Portrait of Hogarth, 121] 
Marriage-a-la-Mode, 125 
The Cockpit, 128 
Choir of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, 129 
Garden Spider, suspended by a ‘thread, 
131 
Geometric Net of Garden Spider 131 
Nest of Mason Spider, 132 
Spinnerets of a Spider magnified, 132 
2 Scratchell’s Bay and the Needles, 136 
Pompey’s Pillar, 137 
Portrait of Mahomet II., 141 
5 Ruins of Scarborough Castle, 144 
The Adoration of the Shepherds, after 
Spagnoletto, 145 
Entrance to the Peak Cavern, 148 
Plan of the Peak Cavern, 149 
Malta, 152 ° 
One-horned RRINRCEROS. 153 
West Front of Exeter Cathedral, 157. 
Gondola, with a single Rower, 160 
North-west View of St. Paul’s Cathe- 
dral, 161 
74 Interior of St. 
Dome, 164 
75 Interior of St. Paul’s, looking East, 168 
76 Wolf Hunt, aftera picture by Snyders, 
169 
77 Cemetery at Grand Cairo, 173. 
78 Minster of Freiburg, 7 
79 ‘The Smoker,’ by Ostade, 18] 
80 St. Nicholas Church, Newcastle- ee 
Tyne, 185 
8] Grecian Sun Dial, 187 


42 
43 


Paul’s from under the 


82 
192 





83 Indian Tapir, 193 

84 Clocks, fig. 1, 195 

85 2, 195 

86 3, 195 

87 ————— 4, 195 
-88 ———_—-——. 5, 196 

BQ) were GLB ° 
90 ————_-—- 7, 6 

9] —————--——- 8, 197 

92 Open Court and House at Grand Cairo, 

200 
93 San Marino, 201 


94 The Manna Tree, 204 
95 Caernarvon Castle, 208 
96 Industry and Idleness—Apprentices at 








their Looms, 209 
97 ———__—__—_—___- Industrious 
’ Apprentice at Church, 213 
98 nn —— LA Tere 
tice gaming, 213 
99 Industrious. 
Apprentice in the Confidence of his 


Master, 216 
100 The Egyptian Lotus, 217 
101 Striking Machinery of Clocks , fig. 1, 220 








102 2, 220 
102. ——— 3,221 
104. = 4, 999 


105 The Prodigal Son, by Spada, 224 

106 Flamingoes, 225 

107 Mosaic from Pompeii, 229 

108 Boy extracting a Thorn, 233 

109 Turkish Burial Ground and Funeral, 
236 

110 Town-hall of Birmingham, 240 

11] View of the Island of Ischia, 241 

112 North-west View of Ely Cathedral, 245 

113 Alpine Marmots, 248 

114 Industry and Idleness—Idle Apprentice 
sent to Sea, 249 














115 —— Industrious 
Apprentice married to his Master’s 
Daughter, 253 

116 Idle Appren- 


tice apprehended for Murder, 203 

—————— Idle Appren- 
tice committed for Trial by the In- 
dustrious Apprentice, 256 

118 Knife-grinder, by Teniers, 257 

119 Interior of Haddon Hall, 264 

120 Remains of Upnor Castle, 265 

121 The Mammee Tree, 268 

122 Leaf, Flower, and Fruit of the Mam- 
mee, 269 

123 Perela Chaise, 272 

124 North American Bison, 273 

125 Island of Capri, 276 

126 Caverna Azurra, in the Island of Capri, 
277 

127 Pimento or Allspice Tree, 281 


117 








128 Fire, fig. 1, 285 
1299 ————- 2, 286 
130 3, 28 
131 4, 28 


132 The Enraged Musician, 288 

133 Front of the Northern Transept of 
Westminster Abbey, 289 

134 North Aisle, looking West, do., 292 

135 The Nave, looking West, do., 293 

136 The Nave, looking East, do., 296 

137 Kensall-Green Cemetery, 297 

138 Colonnade over the Catacombs at 
Kensall-Green, 300 

139 Descent from the Cross, by Rubens, 
301 

140 The Kalong Baf, 305 

141 Pillar of Sueno, 308 

142 Napoli di Romania, 312 

143 Bay Tree, 313 

144 Stadthouse, and part of the City of 
Amsterdam, 316 

145 Coach and Costume of Milan, 321 

146 The Cuttle Fish, 325 

147 Suckers of the Cuttle Fish, 325 

148 Pola-Phuca Waterfall, Ireland, 328 

149 The Distressed Poet, 329 

150 Rotterdam, showing the Church of St. 
Lawrence, 333 - 

151 Westminster Abbey, Interior of Henry 
VIL’s Chapel, 337 

152 Shrine of Henry V., do., 340 

153 Poet’s Corner do., 344 

154 Merino Sheep, 345 


Remains of the Amphitheatre at Milo, 


ee CL : —a 


230 House of Commons, 505 
231 St. Stephen’s Chapel, 508 


A 


155 Principal Front of the Bank 
land, 349 
156 Market Place, Hull, 353 
157 Afneas preparing to carry his Father 
from Troy, 357 
158 Piazza del Popolo, at Rome, 36] 
159 Blacklow Hill, near Guy’s Cliff, 364 
160 Guy’s Cliff, Warwickshire, 365 
161 West Front of the Cathedral at 
Rheims, 369 
162 An Oratory, or Place of Prayer, 372 
163 St. Mary’s Chapel, Hastings, and Ruins 
of a Castle on the Cliff, 376 
164 The Rake’s Inheritance, 377 
165 The Gaming House, 381 
166 The Haarlem Organ, 385 
167 Mineral Kingdom, fig. 1, 388 
168 —————— 2. 388 
169 Hawking—Going to the Field, 392 
170 Attack of the Boa Constrictor on a 
Sleeping Lascar, 393 
171 Mineral Kingdom—Diagram, 396 
172 The Bore: coming in of the Tide.on 
‘the Ganges, 400 
Hogarth’s Perspective, 401 .. . 
‘Tsar Kolokol,’ or King of Bells, in 
Moscow, 404 
Comparative Dimensions of Bells, 405 
The Rialto, at Venice, 409 
Hawking—Luring the Hawk, 412 
a — Casting off the Hawk, 


Calabash Tree, 416 

Oxford, from the AD MEdon Road, 417 

Upper ‘Part of the High Street, Ox- 
ford, 420 


of Eng- 








173 
174 


175 
176 
177 
178 


179 
180 
181 














182 Radcliffe Library, Oxford, 424 
183 Caravanseray, 425 

184 Gas, fig. 1, 427 

185 2, 427 

186, 3, 427 

187 4, 427 

188 5, 428 

189 6, 428 

190 7, 428 

19] 8, 428 

192 —— The Retort aeatite: 429 

193 .—— Purifiers and Condensers, A29 
194 Gasometers, 429 

195 Silver Coin found at Tutbury, 432 


196 


197 
198 


Representation of the Coins as found 
at Tutbury, 432 

Jaca Tree, 433 

Grand Organ in the New Hall, 
mingham, 436 

Menai “Bridge, 440 

Ruins of St. Stephen’s Chapel, 441 

Plan of the Houses of Lords and Com- 
mons, 445 

Ruins of the Houses of Parliament, 448 


Bir- 
199 
200 
20] 


202 








203 Redcliff Church, Bristol, 450 

204 Gas, fig. 1, 452 

203 ——-—— 2, 452 

206 —— — ae, 452 

207 4. 453 

208 ————— 5, 453 

209 Spanish Armada pursued by the Eng- 
lish, 456 

210 The Painted Chamber, 457 

211 Gas, fig. 1, 458 

212 —— 2, 459 

213 Town of Funchal, in the Island of Ma- 
deira, 460 

214 Hawking—Hawk seizing a wild Duck, 

215 ars of Lords tn the time of Geo. II., 

216 Death of the Earl of Chatham, 469 


217 House of Lords, as prepared for the 
Trial of Queen Caroline, 472 

Leo the Tenth, by Raffaelle, 473 

Hawking—Death of the Heron, 477 

220 St. Augustin’s Gate, Bristol, 480 

221 The Politician, by Hogarth, 48] 

222 Mineral Kingdom, fig. 1, 483 

223 — 2, 483 

224 Black Gate at Treves, 488 

225 View of the City of Algiers, 489 

226 Gas—Oil Gas Apparatus, 493 

227 Otter Hunt in Scotland, 496 

228 ‘ Le Roi boit,’ by Jordaens, 497 

229 Otter Hunt—Digging out of the Cairn, 

504 


218 
219 











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